#and it helps to see my new printed stack of what i Have Done So Far lol

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

okay, so: i’ve been grumpy about How Slowly Revision Have Been Going (coming up on.....almost a Year......), because it’s felt like i’ve been trapped in The Beginning This Entire Time.

however: i’ve input most of what i’ve done so far, and it’s uh. 78 pages?? which. isn’t an insignificant chunk. and i’ve finally cracked what my major hangup was re: the slowness (in text, not in life although life hasn’t been a mystery for a while lol) and i’m slowly unfucking that, so. i think i’m feeling pretty good, all things considered??

[milksuu]

Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers. 

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors. 

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

 EMAIL: yone123@riotstudios.com

TELEPHONE:  XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his  protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.” 

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.” 

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place. 

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.” 

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest. 

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute. 

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.” 

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn. 

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps. 

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness. 

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.” 

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool. 

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too. 

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.” 

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.  

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite. 

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.” 

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. <3

[little-jana]

"Three Times is a Charm"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: awkwardness?, sweet kisses, use of y/n

Words: 3,5k

Summary: Meeting Spencer Reid was like stumbling upon a rare book—unexpected and thrilling. Our paths crossed not once, not twice, but three times in the most peculiar ways.

I didn’t mean to end up at that bookstore. It wasn’t on my list of errands, and truthfully, I didn’t even know it existed until I spotted the faded sign hanging above the shop door: Old Tomes & New Beginnings—Clearance Sale. There was something irresistible about it, the promise of stories hidden in dusty corners. My car could wait, and my to-do list wasn’t going anywhere. So, I pushed the creaky door open and stepped inside.

The air inside was pleasantly warm, and the aroma of vanilla candles mixed with the familiar scent of old books. I could almost hear the stories whispering to each other, nestled in their places on the wooden shelves. A small bell chimed as the door closed behind me, announcing my arrival. The shop was a maze of tall wooden bookshelves, most sagging slightly under the weight of the books they held, their spines worn from years of handling. It was the kind of place that invited you to stay for hours, to get lost in forgotten pages and dusty memories. And that's exactly what I did. I wandered, my fingers trailing along the spines, occasionally pulling a book down and skimming through its pages before deciding to leave it behind.

Then, my eyes landed on it: Pride and Prejudice —not a rare edition or a first printing, but a well-loved copy with a faded cover and yellowing pages. There was something about it that felt inviting, as if it had been waiting for me to pick it up. I reached for it, standing on my tiptoes, trying to stretch my fingers far enough to grasp the spine. But the stack of books around it was precariously arranged, and as I nudged it, the entire tower of books began to shift.

"No, no, no!" I muttered under my breath, trying to stabilize the pile, but it was too late. The books tumbled one by one, crashing to the ground with a series of loud thuds.

"Are you okay?" a voice called from behind me.

I froze, looking over my shoulder to see a tall, slightly disheveled man crouched down, his hands already gathering the fallen books. His brown hair was messy, and his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as if they might fall off at any second. He was dressed in a cardigan that looked like it belonged in an old library, and his slightly awkward but genuine expression caught me off guard.

"I think so," I said, still kneeling. "Though it seems the books have declared war on me."

The man smiled faintly, then held out a hardcover to me. "Here," he said. "This one seems to have missed the fall."

I glanced at the title. It was Pride and Prejudice. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "You have good taste."

"Jane Austen is a classic," he said, a little too earnestly. "Not to mention a master at subtle social commentary. And Mr. Darcy’s arc... Well, it’s iconic."

I raised an eyebrow. "You really are a fan of Austen’s work, aren't you?"

He looked slightly embarrassed but managed to maintain eye contact. "Guilty as charged," he said. "I’m Spencer, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer," I replied. "I’m [y/n]." We exchanged a polite smile, and he moved to help me collect the remaining books. Once we were both standing, I found myself glancing back at Pride and Prejudice, wondering if I should buy it, but I didn’t want to seem too eager.

"You know," Spencer said with a slight hesitation, "I think Pride and Prejudice is the perfect book for someone who wants a little bit of everything. Romance, wit, social critique..."

I looked at him with a playful smile. "You’ve clearly done your homework."

"I suppose I have," he replied, looking sheepish.

Before I could say anything else, he gave a quick nod. "Well, I should probably leave you to the rest of your book shopping. Enjoy the rest of your day."

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t help but watch him disappear down one of the aisles. There was something about him—something intriguing, something different.

---

A week later, I found myself standing in line at my usual coffee shop, juggling my phone, keys, and a to-do list. It was a Monday morning, and the place was packed with people trying to start their day. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans and baked pastries filled the air as I anxiously checked the time on my phone, wondering if I’d make it to my meeting on time.

As I finally reached the counter to pick up my drink, I turned to make my way to a nearby table. That’s when I collided with someone. My coffee cup slipped from my hand in a perfect arc toward the floor.

"Watch out!" I cried, but it was too late. The hot coffee splashed across the table, narrowly missing the man standing in front of me.

He quickly stepped back, raising his hands in an attempt to shield himself, but the damage had already been done. I froze for a second, staring at the coffee stain spreading across the table.

"Oh no, I’m so sorry!" I exclaimed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

The man bent down and grabbed a napkin to start mopping up the spill. I blinked. There was something about this scenario that felt... familiar.

"Twice in one week?" I asked, still stunned. "Are you following me, Spencer?"

He looked up, his eyes widening in shock. "No! I swear, I’m not stalking you!" He paused, looking around at the busy café. "I mean, I do come here often, but I don’t think it’s quite the same thing."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the awkwardness of the moment suddenly lifting. "Same here. But I guess we just keep running into each other."

He gave a sheepish grin. "Maybe we’re just... fated to meet by accident."

I gestured to the table behind me. "Do you want to sit with me? It’s the least I can do since I’ve made a mess of your morning."

Spencer looked a bit hesitant but then shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

As we sat down and chatted, the conversation turned from the coffee mishap to our work. I learned he worked for the FBI—profiling, specifically—and was part of a team that investigated serious crimes. I couldn’t help but be impressed. His intelligence and passion for his job were evident in the way he talked about his cases, even though he seemed more humble than I expected.

We exchanged stories about our favorite books and movies, discovering that we had quite a few shared interests. Despite his shy demeanor, Spencer’s intelligence and sense of humor shone through. I found myself laughing more than I had in a long time, and before I knew it, hours had passed.

“Looks like I’ve kept you from your plans,” Spencer said, glancing at the clock and looking a bit guilty.

I waved him off. "No, I’m glad we talked. Let’s do this again sometime."

As we parted ways, I found myself secretly hoping that I’d bump into him again—preferably without any coffee mishaps. Gladly, we got to exchange numbers.

---

Two weeks later, Spencer invited me on a spontaneous picnic. I was hesitant at first; after all, Spencer wasn’t exactly the type to suggest spontaneous outdoor activities. But when he mentioned his favorite park and that he'd packed us both lunch, I couldn’t say no.

We met early on a Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking over the trees. Spencer had a basket in hand, looking as if he’d stepped straight out of a vintage romance movie. His cardigan, now unbuttoned, fluttered slightly in the morning breeze. He had a nervous energy about him, which I found endearing.

“I may have overpacked,” he said, setting the basket down next to a picnic blanket.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s in there? Enough food to feed an army?”

“Well, no. Just enough food to feed two people who might be hungry after talking about random trivia for hours,” Spencer replied with a smile, clearly amused by his own self-awareness.

We settled down on the blanket, the sounds of the park around us—children laughing, birds chirping, and the distant hum of traffic—mixing with the peaceful vibe of our little picnic. Spencer unpacked the basket, revealing an assortment of sandwiches, chips, and fresh fruit.

“Did you make all this?” I asked, impressed by the spread he’d laid out.

Spencer flushed slightly. “Well, I mean, I don’t cook a lot, but I thought sandwiches would be simple enough. The fruit is from a local farm stand.”

“You’ve got good taste,” I said, picking up a sandwich. “You sure you’re not a secret chef?”

He laughed. “I think my talents lie more in... making the perfect cup of coffee and identifying obscure book quotes. Cooking’s not my thing.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich. “Everything’s delicious.”

For the next few hours, we talked about everything and nothing. We shared little-known facts—Spencer told me about his favorite historical figures and how fascinated he was by World War II espionage. I laughed and chimed in with my own trivia, telling him about random facts I’d read in articles or heard in podcasts.

Every so often, I’d glance over at him and see how deeply he was listening, his full attention on me. It was a quiet, comfortable feeling���one I hadn’t realized I needed in my life. I hadn’t had many deep conversations with people outside my closest circle, but with Spencer, it felt effortless.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, we packed up the basket and sat together for a few moments longer. It wasn’t about rushing to the next activity but savoring the peacefulness of the moment. Just us, sharing a space without the pressure of anything else.

“You know,” Spencer said after a while, his voice quieter now, “I think I could get used to this.”

I looked at him, heart swelling with affection. “Me too. I’m glad we did this.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling under the fading sunlight. “Maybe we could make it a regular thing,” he suggested, and I felt the warmth of his words settle inside me.

“That sounds perfect,” I replied, squeezing his hand, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but feel like everything was finally falling into place.

---

From that point on, our meetings became a little less accidental and a lot more intentional. We made plans to see each other every weekend, enjoying more quiet moments, long conversations, and shared laughter. Spencer’s nervousness faded as he became more comfortable around me, and I couldn’t help but fall even harder for him.

One day, after another one of our cozy park picnics, Spencer turned to me with that signature smile that always made my heart flutter.

“I think we’ve made it a habit,” he said, his voice light and teasing.

“Yeah,” I agreed, squeezing his hand. “A really good habit.”

We both leaned back against the blanket, the soft rustling of the trees above and the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm light around us. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between us, but it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes. I could feel the closeness between us growing stronger, like something was just waiting to happen.

Spencer’s gaze lingered on me, and there was a softness in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat. He seemed almost hesitant, his lips parted slightly, like he was debating something in his mind.

Without saying anything, I slowly leaned in, my heart racing, and before I could second-guess myself, I brushed my lips against his. It was gentle, like a quiet promise, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just him and me, the cool breeze, the sound of our breathing, and the feeling of everything clicking into place.

When we pulled away, I saw the same warm, amused smile on Spencer’s face. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“That was... nice,” he said softly, as if he was surprised by the simplicity and sweetness of the moment.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed. “Yeah. It was.”

“I think this might just be my favorite habit of all,” he whispered.

I leaned in again, this time not hesitating, and kissed him once more—this time a little deeper, a little more certain.

As we parted again, I felt like the world had shifted in the most beautiful way. With Spencer, everything felt natural, easy, like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

We settled back into the blanket, hands intertwined, not needing to say anything else. The sun dipped lower in the sky, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like time was slipping away. It felt like we had all the time in the world.

[mentally-gone002]

surprise coffee kisses

(collage made by moi)

summary: literally the title ^^^

————————————————————————

paper bag in one hand, a coffee cup in the other and a visitor badge clipped onto my shirt accompanied me up to the floor in which spencer worked on in the FBI’s headquarters in quantico. 

i’d been in the building lots of times which meant finding my way around was no problem at this point whenever i’d visit. 

on this occasion my appearance was secret. spencer had left his badge at our apartment on his nightstand and by the unseen bowl in my sink i had a feeling he hadn’t had breakfast before he left, so i’d taken the liberty of running by his favorite cafe on my way to him. 

once i had stepped out of the elevator and strode through the large glass doors with the FBI symbol and the printed title of the unit “behavioral analysis unit” on them, i made a beeline directly to his desk where he was seated. his back was arched over and he seemed to be writing. 

i smiled, slowing my strides as i got closer until i stopped. the paper bag holding his breakfast and his coffee cup was placed quietly on his desk prior to my gentle arms wrapping around the front of his shoulders from behind his desk chair. “hey, handsome.” i kept my voice low so as to not startle him. my lips quickly stamped a kiss to his cheek. 

spencer leaned his head back until it met my shoulder. his brown eyes fell over what of my face he could memorize for the millionth time. “hey, what’re you doing here?” he was gentle with asking and didn’t mean it in a rude way, he was just curious of my sudden presence in his place of work. it made him instantly forget about what he was doing.

i hummed. “you forgot your badge at home, and i brought you breakfast.” my eyes flicked to the items i’d brought for him so that he knew where they were. “and i didn’t get to see you before you left.”

he smiled lovingly as i told him about my reason for being there. he never had to worry about the feelings i felt for him because i expressed them every chance that i got. “thank you, so much.” he beamed up at me as i unwound her arms from around his shoulders. he almost frowned at the absence of my touch but he hid his disappointment. he knew his coworkers would teas him later after i’d left. 

“you’re welcome.” i leaned against spencer’s desk facing him. “what’re you working on?” my hands reached blindly into my sweater pocket to retrieve spencer’s badge as i stared down at the open file on his desk. 

he shrugged. “just some paperwork i didn’t finish last night.” he wheeled his chair to the side and stopped in front of me. “what’re you gonna do today?” 

i sighed, looking up at the ceiling as i thought. “probably run a few errands. we need a few things food wise, and then i might clean the apartment.” i answered him with a soft smile. “when do you think you’ll be home?” 

spencer looked at his watch and then at a stack of files in a paper basket at the end of his desk. “maybe… five thirty. i’ll see if i can leave earlier though, if you need any help cooking.”

i smiled at his consideration but shook my head. “i’m gonna have it all done by the time you get home, if that’s okay. i’m trying something new and don’t want you to have to see me angry if i end up ruining it.” 

“oh you mean like the time you tried to make crepes at one in the morning?” he laughed quietly while i sighed with closed eyes. “you woke me up because you started cussing at inanimate objects.”

i laughed at the remembrance even though i wanted to stay serious. “you scared the hell out of me when you walked into the room to try and calm me down.” 

spencer nodded, leaning forwards in his chair and slid his hand up onto my knee. “they turned out pretty good though.” 

i nodded as i also leaned forward. our faces were inches apart. “they did, didn’t they?” 

we silently stared at each other, eyes just wandering over one another’s faces while the buzz of the bullpen filled the space of our ended conversation. spencer looked at my lips a few times so i decided to lean in and kiss him once, since i didn’t get the chance to this morning. 

as i was pulling away i whispered, “i should get going so you can work.” 

he frowned immediately but nodded. “okay.” he kissed me again before wheeling his chair back to where it was before i had gotten there. “thank you again.” 

i nodded, squeezing my hand over his shoulder. “of course.” my lips were continuously pinned in a smile when i was with him. “i’ll see you at home, okay?”

spencer nodded. “okay. i love you.” 

“i love you.” i smiled, waving as i walked backwards towards the glass doors. 

“you’re in love with that girl.” morgan said across the bullpen to spencer, earning a few nods of approval from their coworkers to which spencer replied with just a roll of his eyes as he went back to work.

morgan was right, as much as he hated to admit, he was right.

spencer was undeniably in love with me.

[moody-alcoholic]

Chapter 3 - The Ride Along

AN: It's a slow burn... I wanted to get some Simon & Johnny antics in...

Summary: Simon x reader, 4.4k words. You convince Price to let you tag along on one of the deliveries to see what the job is like. Although it doesn't really go according to plan.

CW: Implied violence, use of weapons, description of injuries, blood, alcohol.

Previous - masterlist - Next

AO3

Enjoy <3

When you get into work on Monday you have a plan. Not necessarily a plan to get into the store room but a plan to get answers. You don’t wait saying hi quickly to Johnny and Simon on your way up to John’s office. You take a breath in then knock on the door.

“Come in!” You hear him call. You walk in smiling. Confidence is key. He’s typing on the computer but stops when he sees you smiling and sitting back in his chair. 

“How was your weekend?” He asks. He puts you at ease almost immediately. Don’t let your guard down. 

“Good, got some housework done, you?”

“Mostly the same.” He says. “Did you need something?” 

“Yes actually. In my last job when I first started, I had the opportunity to ride alone with one of the delivery drivers. To see what that side of the job was like. It really helped me get a better understanding of how the flow of goods work. I can use it to improve my work and make sure it’s the best experience for clients and easy for the drivers.” You explain pushing the nerves away. 

“So you want to follow one of the drivers around?” He says his smile fading and his lips pressing together like he’s trying to think of what to say next. 

“Just for the morning, I’ll still make sure all my work is finished before the end of the day.” You say. Reassure him, it’ll make him feel better.

“Okay.” He says getting up out his chair and heading to the door. You try not to look shocked that he said yes, you were expecting him to shut you down come up with some sort of excuse. You follow him out to the top of the stairs. 

“Riley!” He calls. Simon walks up to the bottom of the steps.

“I want you to take the new recruit out with you she want’s to see the delivery side of the job.” Price says, Simon is frowning.

“But I’ve got the Renfolds job this morning,” Simon says.

“I’m aware, take her with you.” John says. 

“What if I need help with my other job?” Johnny asks appearing next to Simon. 

“Then you ask Simon for help.” John says almost sounding annoyed now. What kind of job would Johnny need to ask Simon for help in? More questions, burning questions you want answers too. John pats you on the shoulder and you hear him go back into the office as you step down to meet Simon. He does not seem too impressed. 

“Why don’t you go print the invoices off and I’ll get the van ready.” He says his arms crossed, you can’t tell if he’s mad or just annoyed, his mask hides half his face, regardless he seems to be good at hiding his emotions. You nod heading to the reception desk to print them off. You don’t think Simon likes you too much, maybe this will be good forced to spend some time with him. You pick up the stack of papers hearing your name being called.  

—————————— 

You drive out of the centre of London into what seems to be a very affluent neighbourhood, somewhere you have never been before. The houses just seem to be getting bigger. The ride had been pretty much silent. You needed to be careful when to ask the questions especially with Simon. You wished you could have been with Johnny or Kyle, they might have been easier to get answers from. With Simon you have to pick your opportunities wisely. 

“So who is Mr Renfolds?” You ask, he sighs his hand gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

“A client, a special client.” Simon says. That didn’t give you much information to work with. he pulls up to the massive gates of one of the mansions. Opening the driver door hopping out to go over to the intercom. A few seconds later he’s coming back into the van as the gates open. 

“Very fancy.” You say. Simon just hums in response. As soon as the gates are open he drives in parking the van by the door. You both get out as you hear Simon open the side door on the van. When you go to meet him though the door is already shut again. He hands you what looks like a toolkit. 

“What are we here to do?” You ask as you follow him up to the front door. 

“You’ll see.” He says ringing the bell. You don’t like how cryptic he’s being maybe you should just be pushy. If you’re annoying enough maybe he will just give in and answer the questions for you. A few seconds later the door opens there is a man stood there, he’s older defiantly in his 50 or 60’s, balding dressed in a smart suit. 

“Ah Mr. Riley, it’s a privilege again.” He says shaking Simon's hand. 

“And who is this lovely lady, do you have an assistant now?” He asks reaching out his hand to you you accept it and shake it. 

“Something like that.” Simon says before you can introduce yourself. Simon walks through the door to a case on a table in the centre of the lobby. You watch as Simon opens it as you stand behind him. Holy shit. It’s a weapon, a pistol. It looks scary as Simon picks it up turning it over in his hands. 

“You say it keeps jamming?” Simon asks Mr Renfolds. You look over at him as he explains the history. How he bought it from a visiting American but has only managed to fire it once before the whole thing jammed up and stopped working. 

“I wanted something small for protection, everyday use.” He explains looking towards you. You almost want to laugh. Small? everyday use? The weapon wasn’t small, it’s a hand gun sure but even in Simon’s hands it looks massive. 

“Do you want any tea, coffee?” Mr Renfolds asks.

“We’re good thank you.” Simon says. 

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He says and heads through one of the doors. 

“This is very illegal.” You say leaning so you’re whispering to Simon. 

“Open the kit.” He sighs. You do as you’re told opening it and setting it down on the table. 

“Rich fuckers don’t care about the laws, as long as they can afford bail.” Simon says taking the weapon apart with quick efficiency. He reaches over for a cloth cleaning the barrel and blowing down it. He holds part of it up to the light, you have no idea which part is which now. You stand there watching him work like he’s done this a thousand times. He probably has. He takes tools from the box muttering to himself as he cleans the weapon. 

“Do you have to do this a lot?” You ask. He looks up at you blinking.

“All the God damn time, they buy the weapons but don’t have a clue how to care for them.” He says. Once he seems satisfied he starts putting it back together. 

“Go find him would you.” He says, you nod and heading in the direction Mr Renfolds left in. The mansion is massive and you feel like you’re going to have to search for him forever but then you see him in the kitchen. You enter not really know what to say. He turns when he hears the door open. 

“Ah, finished so soon!” He asks jollily, clapping his hands together. You nod turning to leave and he follows you. You make it back to the foyer as Simon is packing the tool box away. 

“Got anywhere I can fire this?” Simon asks as soon as he sees the Mr Renfolds who nods enthusiastically. You let Simon pass you as you both follow him down the stairs to a basement. He leads you through a door with a key-code, when you walk in you gasp. There is a full shooting range down here, like ones you’ve seen on TV. The place is smaller but there is a wall with a bunch of scary looking guns. 

“I know, quite extraordinary.” He says sounding proud of the place. 

“It’s definitely something.” You say, Simon is stood in one of the booths he takes down the pair of ear defenders hanging above him.

“Here, put them on.” He says, you take them out of his hand putting them on. They’re too big for you but it’s better then nothing you guess. Mr. Renfolds finds a pair too and pulls them on. Simon walks over to a table and picks up what looks like weapon magazines. He places them in the booth then you watch as he loads the pistol. 

“What about you?” You ask, he turns to look at you. 

“I’m used to it.” He says and starts firing off shots. Even with the defenders the noise still makes you jump. Simon’s stood with his arms stretched out, you watch as his muscles tense with each kick back of the gun. His eyes sharp focused on the target in front of him. You wonder if he misses it, having a weapon in his hands. It seems the be the only time you’ve seen him like this before, it’s almost like... comfort. He shoots until the mag is finished then reloads it he fires off a few more shots and when he’s satisfied he unloads the weapon, placing it down. He turns round and you take the ear defenders off. 

“Brilliant, what a thrill!” Mr. Renfolds shouts going over to where Simon was standing. 

“Perfect shots! I’m going to frame that pretend it was mine.” He nudges Simon, who takes the ear defenders out your hand and hangs them back up. 

“Anything else we can do for you?” Simon asks. 

“No, you’ve been a great help as per usual.” Mr Renfolds says, still gawking over Simon’s shots on the target. Simon nods.

“We’ll show ourselves out.” He says and starts to walk out the room. You say goodbye as you follow Simon back through the mansion to the van outside. 

“So what you service people’s weapons? Do you sell them too?” You ask Simon as he opens the side door of the van taking the toolbox and putting it in. 

“No that would be illegal.” He says slamming the door closed. You scoff waking round the van getting into the passenger side. 

“What about all the guns in the store room are they just for personnel use?” You say raising an eyebrow. 

“Sometimes.” Simon says sighing as he starts the engine. You huff frustrated, he’s not giving you the answers you want. Or he’s being intentionally vague. It’s like trying to get water out a rock. You’re about to speak when you’re interrupted by Simon’s phone ringing. He presses accept on the dash. 

“Where the hell have you been I’ve been calling for ages!” It’s Johnny, he sounds pissed.

“We were in Renfolds basement.” Simon replies as he backs out the driveway onto the road. 

“Kinky. I need your help, jobs a bust-” Johnny get’s cut off by what sounds like gunshot’s. Your stomach drops you look over at Simon. 

“Johnny!” Simon is almost shouting. The van’s speeding up. 

“Shite, I’ll send the location, I’m pinned down in the back of some old warehouse.” Johnny says, you feel sick. A few seconds later Simon’s phone buzzes. He unlocks it and passes it to you. 

“Read the directions.” He says his voice low commanding it sends a shiver up your spine. You look down at the map. 

“R-Right at the lights.” You say pointing, trying to keep calm. 

“How’s the first ride along going lass?” Johnny says although his voice sounds strained, there are more shots. 

“Interesting,” you managed to say. “Left down this road there’s an industrial estate.” At least that’s what you think it is. 

“Aye, lass that’s it, what would Ghost do without you!” Johnny says, through more straining and more shots. 

“I’d be there with you,” Simon whispers under his breath. You don’t think you were meant to hear that so you look back down at the phone.

“Right in here,” you point to the entrance the gate is open and Simon drives in. You can’t tell if you can hear shot’s or it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You see the other van Simon parks behind it. 

“Any chance on that ETA?” Johnny asks.

“I’m here stay on the line.” Simon says killing the engine, he bends over you and opens the glove box. He takes out two masks handing one to you. 

“Put this on. Do not move from this van no matter what happens okay?” You nod following his instructions and pulling it over your face. You turn to look at him as he discards his black surgical mask pulling the balaclava on. His eyes dig into you and you swallow hard the hairs standing up on the back of your neck. Simon jumps out the van, slamming the drivers door. It makes you jump as you hear the side door open. 

“Where’s Gaz?” You hear as Simon rummages through the van. This is bad, you have no idea where you are. You gave instructions to Simon but you weren’t paying attention to the names. 

“Fucking hell Soap why didn’t you call sooner!” Simon sounds angry as you feel the van shake as Simon shuts the door. Your body is tense you don’t think you could move. Simon walks round the front of the van he’s wearing a bullet proof vest now, he has a rife in his hands as he pushes a magazine into it. You gasp as you see him. This is very serious. You don’t even have time to think of the consequences of that this means when a car pulls up.

You watch as John and Kyle get out slamming the doors shut. They’re also dressed in tactical gear with weapons bigger then you have ever seen. John starts pointing around and Simon and Kyle nod jogging off. John looks back at you and holds his thumb up. You’re just staring wide eyed, mouth gaping open as you bring your shaking hand up to give him a thumbs up back. At least your expression is mostly hidden. You have no idea if that’s the right thing to do but he nods and runs off in the same direction as Simon and Kyle. 

You sit there waiting, trying to listen. You think you hear shots, distant pops and banging. Why are the police not here yet? The place did look empty and you were on an industrial estate but still, this is London, people would report this. Your heart is thumping in your chest beating rapidly. You were in too deep, this is dangerous. This could get you killed. These are real people with real guns. Maybe you should run, there’s bound to be someone nearby you can get a lift from. What would you even say? No. You push the thought away. You want answers, that burning curiosity that bought you here in the first place is back. Curiosity killed the cat. You think back to the room with the guns. To Simon walking round the van with a rifle in his hands. It was a good look on him, he seemed more relaxed with a weapon in his hands. Maybe now they would have to give you answers. 

‘Aye, but satisfaction bought it back’ Johnny’s voice rings in your ears. You hope he’s okay, he sounded strained on the phone. The shots louder then the little pops you’ve been hearing here. They seemed to know what they were doing, of course they did they’re all ex-SAS, if anyone was going to be rescuing Johnny who better to ask. You’re not waiting much longer when you see movement ahead of you. You hold your breath hoping its them, all of them. You let out a sigh of relief when you see them come round. They all look fine, even Johnny. You want to get out the van and run over to meet them but you stay put remembering Simon’s instructions. Johnny waves at you when he sees you and you wave back. He walks over to the van and opens your door. 

“Suits you.” He says winking. You see blood running down his arm.

“Johnny you’re bleeding!” you say gasping. 

“Just a scratch, c’mon lass hop out.” He says moving to the side. You unclip your seat belt and swing your legs round jumping out the van. As soon as your legs hit the floor you wobble bracing yourself on the door. Johnny chuckles pulling the mask off your head and throwing it into the van. 

“So strangest ride along you’ve ever been on?” Johnny asks as you walk round him your legs still feeling like jelly. 

“Strangest anything I’ve ever done.” You say forcing a chuckle. You look past Johnny as Gaz walks over. 

“Always have to have all the fun without us.” Gaz says as he pats Johnny on the back. Johnny winces. 

“Aye, just the way I like it.” He replies. 

“I’m going to stay with Price clean this mess up, LT will drive you both back.” Gaz says looking at you and nodding. You nod back at him, he smiles. The adrenaline is wearing off now and you shiver. What just happened? You watch Gaz walk away and Simon come over you hear the beeping of the car being unlocked. Johnny leaves your side to walk round to the front passenger seat. You watch as Simon walks up to you stopping before he opens the driver door. 

“You okay?” He asks, his voice calmer now softer. It throws you off you were ready to be mad at him demand answers now he’s looking at you with those beautiful caramel eyes. You collect yourself ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks. It’s just the adrenaline, you tell yourself as you look away. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, your hand reaching for the passenger door handle. He hums, almost like he doesn't believe you. You get in the car sitting behind Simon putting your seat belt on. 

“Job well done!” Johnny says. Simon scoffs. “We got ‘em didn’t we.” 

“Who did you get?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Simon’s eyes look at you through the rear view mirror. It’s almost like a warning. Drop it.   

“Got the bad guy’s lass, like we always do.” Johnny says turning and winking at you. 

“What did they do?” You ask ignoring Simon’s warning as he drives out the gates onto the main road. 

“They had themselves a nice little-” 

“Johnny.” Simon snaps stopping him, your eyes flick to Johnny who looks less then impressed. 

“You want to know you’ll have to speak to Price.” Simon says, he gives you the look again. You meet his eyes, this time not backing down you want answers.         

—————————— 

When you get back to the garage Simon lets you and Johnny out as he goes to park John’s car in it’s usual spot. 

“I don’t think Simon likes me.” You say to Johnny as you head inside. 

“He’s like this to everyone.” Johnny says sighing. He’s not his usual chipper self. Maybe it’s the fact he still has a wound that needs seeing to. Or maybe it was the awkward drive back were no one said a thing after Simon snapped at Johnny. You could tell there was tension, whatever happened today was clearly not the way things were suppose to go. You follow Johnny up to the second floor and he flops down on the sofa. 

“Do you need anything?” You ask feeling kind of useless. 

“There’s a bottle of scotch in the kitchen, second cupboard from the sink.” He says smiling, and pointing over. You hesitate not knowing if he’s joking or not but he nods so you go over to look. Sure enough there is a bottle of scotch, it looks expensive. You grab a glass and walk back over to him. Putting it down on the coffee table. 

“Christ you’d think after getting shot so much you’d get used to it.” He says as he opens the bottle pouring some in the glass. 

“How many time’s have you been shot?” You ask. 

“I stopped keeping count,” he smiles downing the glass. You hear the door open and watch as Simon walks in. He walks across the floor to the store room going inside. 

“Want one lass? You look like you need it.” He says passing you the bottle. You nod blindly accepting it and taking a big gulp straight from the bottle. It burns as it hit’s your tongue and all the way down your throat. It’s horrible tasting like burnt wood. You’re pulling a face as you put the bottle back down that makes Johnny chuckle.

“Good ‘ol Scottish craftsmanship, it’ll put hairs on ya chest.” You cough as you hear the storeroom door close then Simon coming up the steps. He walks past you, his mask and vest are off he’s carrying a blue medical bag in his hand. He sits down next to Johnny. 

“Off,” He says gesturing for Johnny to take his top off placing the bag on the coffee table. You get up to leave.

“Sit down lass, I might need someone to hold my hand.” Johnny pouts. 

“That’s what Simon’s here for right?” You say as you sit back down looking at Simon who’s too focused on searching through the bag for something. Johnny pours himself another glass before taking his top off over his head. You can see the extent of the damage now. It looks bad or maybe it’s because it’s been bleeding for so long it looks worse then it is. Simon looks up at it and tuts rethinking his choice of bandages. You try to keep your eyes off Johnny he’s very good looking, fit and tanned with a nice stock of body hair. You can see tattoo’s down his arms and shoulder you haven’t been able to see before. You reach over and drink the scotch, you need it now. Johnny chuckles and you pour him another glass.

“What happened to not drinking on the job?” Simon says rolling his sleeves up.

“I was shot in the field.” Johnny says being dramatic. You smile the drinks going to your head. 

“You were grazed by being stupid.” Simon says pulling some gloves on. 

“You’re not as nice as the other nurses I’ve been treated by.” Johnny says. You can’t help smiling it’s like they’re intentionally winding each other up. 

“I’m not a nurse, keep still.” Simon says gripping Johnny’s arm to hold it in place. 

“Do you have to patch him up a lot?” You ask watching Simon inspect the wound. He looks over at you for a second. 

“He makes a habit out of it.” Simon say sighing. You watch as he tips some liquid onto a piece of cloth. 

“You might want that drink now Johnny.” Simon says. Johnny reaches over for his glass as Simon starts dabbing the wound. 

“Ay ya fecking bastard.” Johnny says through gritted teeth trying to pull away from Simon who just keeps him in place. You could swear you see a smile form on Simon’s lips for a second. Johnny continues to curse Simon out even after he’s finished his drink. You hear the garage doors being pushed open and you look to see Gaz. 

“Well that was quicker then I expected.” Johnny says. You hear the vans driven in as you watch Simon finish bandaging up Johnny. 

“Will I live?” Johnny asks as Simon takes his gloves off and starts packing the bag back up. 

“To see another day Johnny.” Simon says standing up. You watch as Gaz closes the doors again. Simon walks down the stairs and you hear the door to the store room opening again. You turn to Johnny putting his top back on. You still have questions you want answered. 

“Johnny, what happened why were you shot at?” You ask, Johnny sighs. 

“It’s just part of the job.” He says not giving you a satisfying answer. You hear footsteps coming up, more then one person. You turn to see John and Gaz, you stand up waiting as they come over. The storeroom door beeps and you see Simon making his way up too. Good they’re all here. Now you can get some answers. The scotch has filled you with confidence and you’re convinced you’re not leaving until they have explained what’s going on.

“I feel like I need an explanation. Not just about what happened today but in general. I know you guys are up to some shady shit. You make people disappear. And it’s upsetting because you seem like really nice people. And now I’m saying this out loud all I can think about is you making me disappear. Okay I think what I’m trying to ask is do you kill people?” It’s word vomit it doesn’t even make sense, you feel embarrassed heat rushing to your cheeks. So much for being cool and collected. Johnny laughs pouring another drink. 

“Sit down.” John says, he’s smiling. Johnny passes you the drink. 

“We don’t make a habit of it.” He says.

“The drinking at work or the killing people?” You ask downing the drink, it’s still disgusting, it still makes you gag and pull a face, you don’t know why you accepted it. 

“Both,” He says taking the glass back. 

“Why do you think we make people disappear?” Kyle asks as he goes to sit down next to Johnny. You feel sick, a lump forming in your belly. 

“My neighbour recommended you, said you helped with her sisters stalker.” You say. Fuck. You realise what you’ve said after you said it. Maybe they won’t pick up on it. 

“Recommended?” Simon’s low voice from behind you, you hear him take a step up to the back of the chair. You look up at John who’s stood with his arms crossed leaning against the balcony fence an eyebrow raised. You swallow hard. 

“I guess if we’re all in the position to be spilling secrets who wants to go first?” You ask looking round at them all. 

Next

Banners by Firefly Graphics

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | TEACHER! TEACHER!

request : I was wondering if I can do a small little blurby for myself with school right around the corner. Just like one of the marauders or all are helping set up the classroom and just helping out and cleaning — @loving-and-dreaming

g. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; teacher reader ; comfort fic ; marauders want to help reader ; they are so helpful ; sneaky stolen kisses ; remus is a hypocrite ; but we still love him ; sirius being dramatic ; james is whiny ; they want kisses too

length : 0.9k

“Wh-what are you doing here?” you stutter, staring wide eyed as the three men make it into your classroom. 

“That’s not important right now, princess,” Sirius approaches you with a soft smile and combs his fingers through your hair before gently pulling you in close to press a soft kiss against your temple. 

“Don’t do this all by yourself,” James tenderly eases the staple gun out of your hands, “this is what we’re here for,” he then walks over to a display on the wall where a stack of papers is placed beside on a nearby desk, “is this where you want to display…superlatives? And other stuff in the same pile?” James asks, looking through the small stack of colourful papers. 

“Uhh…y-yeah,” you utter timidly as Sirius pulls you into his chest from behind, nuzzling his face into the back of your head and pressing a kiss there before resting his chin against your shoulder. 

“Did you make all of this yourself?” you see James’s eyes widen, an impressed look crossing his face when he continues to look over your self-made posters. He looks over for a moment, a fond look in his eyes when you nod at him, softly smiling within Sirius’s affectionate embrace, “I’d be a whole lot smarter if you were my teacher at school,” 

“Ain't that the truth,” Remus comments from the side and the three laugh good-naturedly, with James pretending to get mad so that he can turn to the empty display and begin stapling the posters on the small diagram you had helpfully sketched out when planning its arrangement. 

“Come here, dollface,” Sirius urges you to move towards Remus, who had laid out a familiar set of dishes for you, “you should eat, we can handle everything else,”

“But…uhh—” Remus doesn’t allow you to protest, helping you into your seat instead, all while Sirius moves to another display and goes about filling it out the way you intended using your planned sketch. 

“We made sure to order your favourite so please eat,” the tall brunette urges, his eyes pleading for your concession. Thankfully, you didn’t have much fight left in you to protest their attentiveness. Upon sitting down, Remus makes sure that you begin to eat before he steps away and organises all the printed out worksheets you had yet to arrange into your filing cabinet. 

You watch as the boys move around you to do the chores that you had the responsibility of doing for the new school year. They were diligent and focused and didn’t appear bothered by the tasks either, which was a relief. Feeling like a burden was a regular occurrence for you but Sirius, Remus and James always made sure that you had no reason to feel that way around them; they were reliable and worked through everything with you without complaints. They were a blessing. Once the posters were done, Sirius and James looked over the to-do list you had written up on your memo pad at the front desk before setting off to do the next couple of tasks for you as well. 

Sirius went to clear out the back cupboards of the things you had previously marked as no longer needed whilst James went to retrieve the new box of workbooks that was all the way on the other side of the school, where the supplies were usually kept. They both had to pass you on their way to do their tasks and couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to your cheek, James on your right and Sirius on your left. They both found you so adorable when eating peacefully and clearly enjoying your meal, they couldn’t resist stealing a cheeky kiss. It even gave them additional strength and motivation to finish up the rest of the chores on your to-do list before the day ends. 

Remus looks over and sees the flustered look on your face as Sirius and James walk away to do what they planned. Smirking, he calls over his shoulder as he continues filing documents for you, “take it easy on our angel, boys,” he light-heartedly jabs, “we need her alive to teach the new generation,” he laughs as you shout at him in embarrassed protest whilst James and Sirius laugh to themselves.

“Sorry, Doll,” Sirius apologises with a wink as he ties up his lose hair. 

“Just relax, yeah?” James calls back before leaving to retrieve the workbooks. 

Relax… you think to yourself, slowly beginning to smile, it’s certainly easier with them around…  

Out of nowhere, Remus was suddenly in front of you, leaning over your figure and holding himself up with a hand on the desk you were seated at. You make a soft sound of bewilderment that Remus finds too cute to resist. For only a small moment, he savours the look of surprise you stare up at him with as he lifts your chin up and presses a kiss against your pouty lips. Sighing in bliss against his lips, you immediately kiss back, your lashes tickling his cheekbone as they flutter close. 

“Remus!” Sirius shouts in protest from behind you but it doesn’t break your kiss as you were both used to his dramatics, “You made us all promise not to get distracted!” Remus just deepens the kiss in response, which increases Sirius’s objections, “James! Get back here quick! Remus is hogging our angel again!”

You can only guess that the heavy but rapid footfalls echoing in the hallway was James racing back, his arms occupied by a box full of freshly delivered workbooks.

“That’s not fair Moony!” 

a/n : for the requester, this is a special thank you to all teachers who go above and beyond for their students without the proper acknowledgement. we love you, we care for you and we appreciate you so so much. i also have to apologise that this is so last minute, i know you said that school starts for you on the 14th and that's tomorrow but moving back from uni took more out of me than i expected, i hope the timing is still okay, darling x

navi.

taglist : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic

[pinkluver93]

Words Left Unsaid

A continuation of my KehXReader fic "Is This Jealousy I'm Feeling?" Enjoy!

“Ovenist….you’re attracted to me in some way, aren’t you?” 

Ovenist….Ovenist…. 

“Ovenist, you okay?” 

You look up and Nasir, the special agent helping you with the case, is looking at you oddly. You nod. “Yeah, I just got lost in thought for a minute….” 

You had called him to talk about the new evidence you’d found at Keh’s shop. He had come as soon as he could, since it’s busy at the WPA and it’s like he’s the only one there most of the time. It’s been a week since you investigated Keh, and you’ve reviewed all your notes. Now you two are reviewing the stack of papers you found. 

“I think it’s some sort of….manifesto or something.” 

Nasir studies it for a few minutes, looking at the pages. He nods with certainty and gives a determined smile. “So this appears to be a mockup for a pizza chain Keh is starting.” 

You look at him confused. “A mockup?” 

Nasir smiles. “Yes, it seems that he’s planning to expand his pre-existing pizza parlor into a chain…but it’s not called ‘Ambrosia’ now, it’s called….” He looks at the top of the paper. “Keh-lifornia Pizza Kitchen. Hmm, sounds familiar….” 

You nod. “Yeah, I suppose. I wonder if that’s why he might’ve stolen the dough. Maybe he’s using the notoriety from getting the dough to start his chain?” 

Nasir smiles. “Intriguing perspective, and it could be true, given his past….but I would talk to him and see what he has to say about it, since it could be motivation. Let’s keep our focus on the other suspects as well.” 

You nod. “Okay.” 

“Do you have anything else to show me or tell me?” 

You shake your head ‘no’. 

“Cool, call me if you want to talk about a suspect or show me a piece of evidence.” With that, Nasir leaves, and you get lost in thought. Not just about the case, but Keh’s words still linger in your head. 

How am I supposed to continue investigating Keh if he’s caught on to the fact that I kinda like him? Ever since PizzaPalooza ended, I’ve had these butterflies in my stomach I can’t control, and I SWORE I wouldn’t say anything! Ugh, why did I have to let him know how I felt about Angelica deep down? And how he shouldn’t be with her? What do I- 

“Hello? Can I get an All-Dressed Pizza? Can I also get it well done?” 

You snap out of your thoughts once again to take your customer’s order and move on with your day as usual. 

At close, you print the daily sales receipt from your tablet. It was considerably low; you had only completed one ZaZoom order and had to do 2 refunds.  

You document the day’s sales on the Pizza City Portal, where every ovenist had to input sales to show whether they are making enough to stay in business or not. You start to think about some aspects of the case you hadn’t thought of before and you grab your notebook and your special pen. Your notebook sits by you but your pen is not in its usual spot.  

What the-where's my special pen?? 

You move everything around in your reach by your shop counter-receipt paper boxes, your store’s lost and found box (which hasn’t been emptied since you opened and is filled to the brim), and some of your personal belongings...but your pen is nowhere to be found. 

Soon enough, you have searched your entire restaurant, from the kitchen to the one-person bathroom, and you have no luck. Your heart sinks as you pack up your things, lock the store and walk to your car. As you open your car door, you hear footsteps behind you, and prepare for the worst... 

....but instead of a robber’s voice, it’s a gentle, familiar voice.. 

“Ovenist?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Ovenist?” 

You close your car door in shock and the first thing you see is a shadow..albeit a very tall shadow. Next you look at who the shadow belongs to..... 

“Dr. Keh? What are you doing here?” 

He reaches into his lab coat pocket and takes something out to show you.... 

Your eyes widen. “Wait, is that-? My pen!” 

You mentally cheer, studying the golden fountain pen with a certain name engraved in it. You reach out to grab it, but pull your hand back.... 

“Hmm...” 

Keh looks at you confused. “What’s the matter? You don’t want your pen? You only tore 3 quarters of your miniscule shop down looking for it...” 

You do a double-take. “Wait what?” 

“Incase you weren’t aware,” Keh starts. “Every business in this city, yours included, is not only under 24/7 constant surveillance, but it is also public record and uploaded to the WPA website nightly.” 

You stand there, stunned. “Wow....that’s crazy...” 

Keh snorts. “Yes, I’m not really rather fond of being constantly under scrutiny, but that’s the cost of having a business in this city, and...it does have benefits..” 

“Yeah...” You absentmindedly say. “Wait, you see benefits of this?” 

Keh smiles. “Yes, it was rather fun watching you destroy a good portion of your store only to spend your time to put it back the way it was again. It was better than watching TV, dare I say.” 

You cross your arms and frown. “Real funny. That pen was very special to me, okay? The fact that I lost it and the thought that some member of the Deep Dish Gang had stolen it from me really messed with me.” 

Keh was still holding the pen and nodded. “I wasn’t laughing at the fact that you lost something valuable and meaningful to you, Ovenist. I was merely laughing at you destroying your store for any reason whatsoever. I cherish my belongings as much as anyone.” 

You nod solemnly, taking the pen from his hands. For a moment, your fingers touch his fingertips, which have a strong but silky-soft texture. It felt like a smooth lotion had just been applied to them. You think you saw Keh slightly blush at the contact, which you would’ve never seen if not for the bright street light by your car. “Well thank you for keeping it safe for me. I really appreciate it.” 

While he tried to hide his blushing cheeks, he coughed. “Well uh...you’re quite welcome.” 

“Do I owe you anything in return?” 

Keh raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

You slightly smile. “Well it’s just....whenever you do or want to do something nice for me, you expect something in return, like with the artichokes. So I was just asking....” 

Keh looks at you for a minute, then nods. “I see. Well, you dropped it when you quickly left my shop so I knew it was yours. I studied it and knew it was very special to you.” 

You look up at him in confusion. “But....why didn’t you come by if you knew it was mine? You waited until now to come....”  

Keh put both of his hands in his pant pockets and looked down a bit, then looked at you in the eyes again. “Well, we’re not exactly on good terms, Ovenist, given our history overall. I feared you would think I stole it if I brought it to you. I was originally going to have someone send it to you anonymously....” 

“Anonymously? Well why didn’t you go through with it?” 

Keh put his hands on hips and studied you. “Because for once, I wanted you to think of me as...well...” 

You look him in his eyes. “What?” 

“I wanted you to think I was a good guy, okay? I wanted you to...well, think at least somewhat highly of me...” 

You blush a bit. “But....why me? Why not the other Ovenists?” 

Keh rolls his eyes. “I could care less what Cicero thinks, I REALLY don’t care what Alicante thinks....but you, Ovenist....I don’t know. For some reason, you’re different.” 

You start to fiddle your special pen in your fingers and shyly look up at him. “I’m....different?” 

“I can’t explain it, but....yes.” Keh says. “For once in my life, I’ve found a puzzle I was never able to solve, and that’s you, Ovenist.” 

Now is your turn to snort. “You could’ve fooled me! You’re always so mean to me....” 

Keh swallows and nods. “Yes, and....I deeply regret it. I’m sorry. I’ve been trained since I was a youth to be incredibly competitive and ruthless, and.....because of that, I-” 

You both hear a group of tourists approaching, walking down the street.  

You widen your eyes. “I think we better go our separate ways for now. I’m sure you don’t want anyone spreading rumors, right?” 

Keh nods. “Yes, I agree. Though I think the Pizzagram hashtags are already trending....” 

You both get in your cars and drive away before the tourists see you both together.... 

[justheblueberry]

the process of binding a study in scarlette:

SO. i had a Vision for this fic, right from the start. so many new things i wanted to do and almost no idea how to do it. but let's start from the beginning, shall we?

i usually don't do anywhere NEAR this amount of brainstorming and designing but the fic has so many motifs and details that i knew i wanted to fit in, so i had to draw it all out and piece everything together.

here are a few of my behind-the-scenes brainstorming notes:

this was the very first brainstorm i did, it was basically me flinging a bunch of cool book stuff i saw other people doing at the wall and seeing what stuck in my brain.

this was an idea for a cover which incorporated symbols for each of the chapters inside the branches, but i just wasn't fond of the execution of the draft. so i scrapped it, eventually settling on the silhouette cover for the final.

i had big dreams! and not much experience to back it up with ! so after finishing the typeset, i put it aside for a bit and did a couple other binds first.

this was my second brainstorm, i started to figure out the direction i wanted the illustrations to go in, no longer aimlessly tossing vibes around!

i did a lot of waffling about different versions of the back cover design. here's a couple that i scrapped!

over the summer, i decided to finally stop procrastinating and printed out the typeset (after making a few revisions to it). it's a Chonk. i pressed it some, which helped, but it definitely still had a lot of swell.

sewing with red thread.

endpapers cut, glued, and a glow in the dark paint test.

built a press...up til this point i'd just been stacking a bunch of thick books on top of my binds, but for this one i needed a lying press to sand my edges, so i finally caved. who needs tools? my edge painted book needs tools :(

sanding edges with power sander

so. this was my first time doing anything with edges, so i did a little test on a book i already had; it was a bit of a process trying to work out how much i should dilute it, and it took a bit of trial and error. doing the bottom edge first was the right call ^^;; it's the flakiest out of all the edges on the final bind. i'm really happy with the fore edge though, i got a really even and nice coat on it.

rounding, gluing and (an attempt at) backing

so. it was the day before i was moving. i had run out of time to procrastinate any more. the rounding was quite rushed and i barely backed it at all. there was also the fact that i don't have backing boards and was winging it with absolute unfounded confidence. it still turned out okay though so i got away with it!

dug out a 5 yen coin from who knows where for the bookmark. didn't have pliers with me yet so i had to close the crimp with a metal water bottle and arm strength. who needs tools right

endbands. i love sewing endbands, but man, for chonk fics it gets Long. i think they each took like 2-4 hours to do. i briefly considered learning double core endbands for this bind but decided against it as i barely just got a handle on regular ones. discovery: my ambitions have limits!

this was my finalized cover design. i had planned to do it all with htv, but last minute decided to do the silhouette as a linocut instead. i'd never done one before but i had the materials and the fearlessness that only a beginner (who does not know the limits of fear) can have; i think it turned out good :>

the final stretch!!!! it was at this point, when i realized that the size i'd carved the linocut at would be too wide for the half binding case i had planned. improvisation time. i decided to switch from a regular case binding to a three piece bradel. i have only done case bindings and stab bindings at this point...and with only mild panic and stubborn hubris to fuel me, i went for it. i had already attached an oxford hollow and cut my boards, but it probably wouldn't make too much of a difference! fuck around and find out!

cutting the cloth and adhering the htv. the summary on the back was HELL to weed, and some of the letters ended up crooked. i should've just printed it letterpress, but i was running out of patience.

i followed DAS bookbinding's tutorial on youtube of his in-boards three piece bradel and the part where i had to tuck in the spine cloth in between the hollow was definitely the trickiest, but it went okay in the end!

after attaching the boards and gluing down the endpapers i was finally done!!!! after months and months of the unfinished textblock guilting me from the corner of my room, it's finally finished! fancy pics coming soon!

i learned SO MUCH from this bind, sanding edges, painting edges, linocuts, multiple colors of htv, oxford hollows, and a whole new style of binding....yeah. it was a ride! thanks for reading to the end!

[literary-motif]

could you write a scenario where Listener gets a panic attack after being overwhelmed by work and Isaac helps them through it? hurt/comfort tropes are my favorite 💕

Same, hurt/comfort for the win! I hope this is to your liking. Have a lovely day <3

Never Falter

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Warnings: panic attack, mild self-esteem issues

The work you normally so loved left you hollow inside. You had been staring at the pages in front of you — bills, pictures, legal documents, printed-out emails — for a good half an hour without understanding a single word of what was written on them. The letters seemed to blur together, the words not making sense in your head. 

It was a shame, really, because this was only the second case you had looked at today, and there was a whole stack of manilla folders resting at the edge of your desk, taunting you with their towering presence. 

You felt the overwhelming urge to send them all flying to the ground, spilling their contents over the green carpet in Isaac’s office, but that would only increase your workload and you were not keen on undoing yesterday’s work and falling even further behind. 

It would all be so much easier if you could close some of the cases, but there was not enough evidence to make sense of all the loose information you tried desperately to piece together. They all needed further observation and further research you did not have the time to give them because of the sheer amount of them. It did not help that you were supposed to look for new evidence as well, making it impossible to piece together the scraps you already had and puzzle the new pieces into the bigger picture of the case because there were just too many of them. 

There was too much to do, and you had spent the entirety of the previous night sitting at the desk, leafing through papers to revise the old evidence in the few hours where — at least in the US — there was nothing to observe because your targets were fast asleep. 

At around four in the morning, your exhaustion had crept up on you, making you nod off, awoken only by Isaac’s gentle touch on your shoulder a few hours later, his brows furrowed as he asked you if you had fallen asleep on your work. You had brushed off his question, hurrying to the kitchen to follow your primary duties of housekeeping and making him his signature cup of coffee. 

If he was disappointed that you had not had the time nor the energy to bake something, he did not let it show, instead suggesting almost offhandedly that you both could take the day off and try out his mother’s old recipe for crema catalana, a desert he had loved in his youth but never got around to make for himself. 

Practically seeing the amount of work on your desk double, the stack of documents increasing, the folders thickening by the amount of new evidence and potentially new connections you would have to catch up on if you slacked off for a day, you politely declined his offer and returned hurriedly to your desk, adamant to get more done today, to catch up with the development of at least a few cases and finally cross something off of your to-do list.

It had gotten increasingly long over the past few months, and you did not know how much longer you could keep up with the world around you spinning without cause, all the people doing what they did while you were supposed to keep track of it all. 

Every dawn brings a new day, yes, but every new day brings more work, and you were so tired of it. You needed to process the information, you needed to look at the evidence, and research it thoroughly so you could solve the cases and reduce your workload — close some cases. But it was impossible. 

The world kept spinning, the evidence kept piling up and you were slowly drowning in the flood of information, no longer understanding any of it, unable to comprehend what the case was about anymore. 

“Pickle?” Isaac asked, popping his head into his office in search of you. He had been going from meeting to meeting for the past week, absent from home for a long time to converse with employers and partners. He had told you about Asirel and his acquaintance, supposed to keep him safe, but you had only listened halfheartedly to his retelling of their meeting and the ensuing conversation they had had about his ‘pet’ as your eyes remained fixed on the documents before you, shifting through them in the hopes of understanding what you were even supposed to be looking for. 

You were so tired that reality seemed to melt away. “What is it, Isaac?” you asked, not raising your head despite being mildly surprised that his meeting with the ‘troublesome’ client had finished so soon.

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt,” Isaac said sheepishly, causing you to glance up at him briefly at the unfamiliar tone. He was loosening his tie, suit jacket already discarded, and hair a mess. Isaac looked about as exhausted as you felt, and the worn-out smile on his face did nothing to hide the faintly purple bags under his eyes. “I see you’re still busy, just— where’s dinner? I’m off to sleep after. I swear that man took all that was left of my energy, talking in circles for hours!”

Your heart dropped, and you raised your eyes to look at the big pendulum clock next to Isaac. It was late, already well past eleven at night, and you had grossly miscalculated the time, losing yourself in your reflections and the amount of work on your desk, on which you had yet again failed to make a dent. 

More importantly though — and the thought crashed through you as your wide eyes met the questioning tilt of Isaac’s head — you had entirely forgotten about making dinner.

“I—” you began, throat suddenly dry and eyes watering at failing to do your work. 

You had failed in your most important purpose. Isaac was sure to be disappointed, realizing that you were entirely useless and pathetic and nothing but a burden, and finally kicking you out, asking you to leave in the coldly professional tone he usually reserved for particularly bothersome clients. You were nothing but a burden to him. He hated you. 

“Oh god,” you choked, tears streaming down your face as your chest started to burn, feeling like a fire was scorching you from the inside out, something inside of you trying to claw its way out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t— I—” 

There was not enough air in the room, you suddenly realized. There was no air at all as the sensation of being pulled underwater overtook you, contrasting strangely with the fire burning inside your chest. Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense anymore, and you were struck with the thought that this twisting, bending of reality and the feeling of levitating through the air while simultaneously being pulled down to crash against the hard floor had to be what dying felt like. 

At least that way you did not have to face Isaac’s inevitable scorn, nor the heartbreak that would come with being forced to leave him as he told you he had no need for your assistance anymore. You had never been a good assistant anyway, nor a good housekeeper. Perhaps this was for the best.

“Hey, look at me,” the words reached you from far away, sounding like a faint whisper on a field with howling wind, “Open your eyes. Look at me. It’s alright, everything’s alright. Breathe.”

The voice was growing louder slowly, but the feeling of being pulled under, swallowed by something — a big mass of nothing hiding deep inside your chest, the void reclaiming what belonged to it — made it hard to concentrate on the words. 

“Pickle! Hey, breathe. I’m— I’m going to touch you now, alright? Don’t be alarmed, just—” The voice was gentle and calming despite the uncertainty and faint underlying alarm you could hear in the spoken words. It was strangely comforting, and you felt yourself slowly surfacing from the deep well you had unknowingly sunk into.

The world around you started to feel less wrong, and you slowly became aware that you were shaking like a leaf, gasping for breath on the floor while someone — Isaac! — was soothingly stroking your hand, which he held pressed against his chest with a firm but gentle grip.

“That’s it,” he exhaled in relief as you opened your eyes, vision still blurry with tears, “Breathe with me. It’s alright, you’re safe. Just copy me. Breathe, Pickle. Yes, just like that.” 

You tried your best to follow the steady rise and fall of his chest but lost the slow rhythm again and again. The pain in your chest made you whimper, choking on a sob as you were unable to take in a deep lungful of air that you so desperately needed.

Isaac shifted closer, tentatively releasing his grip on your hand to gather you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest, making sure you could feel the rhythm of his breathing. 

“Just like that,” he whispered against the top of your head, rubbing small circles into your back as your breathing gradually slowed. “You’re doing so well. Keep breathing. That’s it. I love you. Keep breathing. You’re alright. I’m right here.”

You lowered your hand, not having the energy to keep it up anymore as you slumped against Isaac’s chest, going boneless with exhaustion. The panic had subsided, leaving you utterly drained. 

“Isaac?” you murmured against his shoulder, eyelids dropping as your heartbeat slowed and you caught the unmistakable scent of Isaac’s cologne. 

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer against him as he felt you relax completely, drifting off to sleep in an embrace you knew would keep you safe. “Sleep, Pickle,” he said, taking a deep breath himself to slow his heart hammering against his ribcage, “We will talk about this tomorrow.” 

The next morning, you woke up in a soft bed, which you had neglected for an unacceptable amount of time, Isaac’s arms securely wrapped around you and keeping you close to him, as if he was worried you would slip through his fingers again.

[brinkworth]

I heard it was your birthday @heartofspells, so I wrote you a little crack fic as a gift. (curse?) Featuring Remus, who is just trying to print his smutty fanfiction and runs into printer trouble. Happy Birthday!

Tech Support

Remus can pinpoint the exact moment his bad luck started. He’d been working on a project, printing some of his favourite fanfiction. He liked the story so much that he wanted to put a physical copy on his shelf.

It was all going smoothly at first, his printer churning out pages, all with perfectly crisp black letters printed neatly in rows. He clapped his hands in celebration. At this rate, this project would be done in record time.

That’s exactly when the bad luck starts. The printer makes an alarming noise; the paper caught half in the printer and half out. After several angry beeps, the screen reads ‘Error - printer jammed. Please clear printer and try again.’

When he opens the machine, it’s full of paper jammed into every nook and cranny. Places he didn’t know paper could even go in a printer. The printer seems to fight him as he removes it. He has to press a foot against the desk for leverage to pull out a particularly stubborn piece and the printer makes an awful grinding noise. It’s later that he sees the warning message that says, ‘Do not remove paper by pulling in this direction.’

“Oops.”

Several hours later, he’s sitting next to a printer that no longer feeds paper at all as tech support tells him they’ll mail him a new one. It should be there in 7-10 business days.

This just won’t do. Remus doesn’t want to wait that long, so he makes a trek to the store and buys a new printer. Now he’ll have two, but they’re different. And he prints a lot, so it’s worth it. Only upon getting it home, the printer won’t print anything legibly. It all comes out looking like a copy of a copy of a copy. Remus spends hours adjusting settings and test printing.

In the end, he’s sitting next to a stack of badly printed pages of his favourite smutty fanfiction when he’s back on the phone with tech support.

“Hello, thank you for calling The Printer Company. My name is Sirius. How can I help you?”

“Er- yes, hello, I just purchased a new printer and I’m having trouble with the quality.”

Sirius is very nice and seems committed to fixing the problem. He has Remus test different settings and try again several times. After 45 minutes on the phone, though, they’ve accomplished nothing. It all looks the same, and Sirius is now just as frustrated as Remus.

“Will you send me a few photos of your printed pages? One good one from your old printer and one from your new printer,” Sirius asks. “It will help me see what the problem is, and I can share them with my supervisor, who might have an idea.”

“Oh - er - sure, yeah.” Remus replies, kicking himself immediately. He should have just hung up.

He suddenly feels too hot. He begins to root frantically through his stack of papers, to find ones that might be appropriate to send.

“Oh God, definitely not that one.” He thinks, more than once.

A few awkward minutes later, he’s found two pages that look fairly clean, though by the character names, it will be clear what this is, if Sirius has ever read one of the most popular book series ever written. WHY couldn’t these characters be named something normal? Like George and Henry…

He sends the photos and chews on his thumbnail as he waits for Sirius’ response.

“Oh, I see them right here,” Sirius says eventually. There’s a shuffling noise and Remus thinks he hears Sirius snort.

Sirius hums as if he’s studying them carefully. “I’m afraid I’m having a hard time telling these two apart...”

How is that possible? Remus wonders. They are so starkly different.

“I’m just going to read these out loud to verify which is which,” Sirius says. And Remus swears he can hear the man smirk through the phone.

Remus’ eyes widen. “Oh, of course, sure,” he blurts out and then kicks himself again.

As Sirius reads, Remus wants to crawl into a hole and die. The man takes his time, drawing it out, and reading more than must be necessary for what he needs.

“Yes, yeah, you’ve got that right,” Remus says in the end, just ready to be done with this.

Another 30 minutes later, Sirius has walked him through how to fix the printer and Remus is anxious to hang up before he can embarrass himself further.

“Thanks so much,” Remus says, his finger hovering over the end call button.

“Happy to help,” Sirius says. “And you have good taste, Remus.”

Remus’ head jerks back in surprise. “Sorry?”

“I’m partial to Heartofspells’ work myself, but this is good too.”

Remus is stunned into silence for a few moments before replying weakly. “Oh.”

“Have a good day, and feel free to ask for me personally if you need help again in the future.”

Remus bit back a smile. Maybe his luck wasn’t so bad after all.

[danpuff-ao3]

Fanbinding 2: Signatures (Print & Stitch)

Current project: A Choriambic Progression

Previously: Part 1

Disclaimer: still new at this. Please don't judge me. And also this is just what I do and really when it comes to some of the smaller details, that's personal choice and stuff you'll decide once you get going and know what you wanna do with it!

Step 1.) Signatures will print 4 story pages on 1 copy paper. I decided more or less early on to do signatures in sets of 20 pages. Though I know to print it by 20s, I still write it all out to try to keep track as I go. I write the total number of pages from Acrobat in the corner, then sort out each signature like so:

Obviously we won't always get a number divisible by 20, so the last signature might be off. But this tells me which pages to set when printing, and how many signatures I should have at the end.

Step 2.) CTRL + P aaand these are my printer settings:

Page Sizing & Handling set to "Booklet." Make sure booklet subset is set to "both sides." Binding: Left. Orientation: Portrait. Then up at "Pages to print" I click "Pages" and set the first one from "1-20" then once that gets to printing I go CTRL+P and set the next signature for "21-40" and so on and so forth.

Step 3.) I grab each signature when they finish and set them aside and group each signature together and easy to tell apart.

Helpful hint: I can tell a signature is done when one side has 2 page numbers side by side that go together (i.e. 68 & 69.)

Another helpful hint: you might need to do a few trial prints to make sure everything prints the way you like. I'd recommend choosing a shorter fic, between 3 and 10k maybe, and making a test signature to see that the font is how you like, what size you want to cut it to, that you're good folding it, etc. Also to get a feel for how to print it and make sure the print settings are right! That's what I did when I first started (I used my own fic Orange Blossoms as a trial run, then In My Veins In My Blood for a slightly longer one.)

Step 4.) Fold! I have bone folder & creaser tools I use for this. Have the side by side pages (i.e. 68 & 69) face up and fold them into each other signature by signature. You should be able to, once folded, flip through and see the pages all in order!

Step 5.) Smush the folded signatures. I keep them stacked and place some heavy books on top of them for a few hours. They need weight on them to settle down and flatten out a bit. You want to get it as tight and small as it's gonna get. I usually keep them under weight whenever I'm not working on them, but I give them a few hours under the books before moving onto the next step.

A note: I try to pick out my endpapers as early as possible and fold and cut and smush them along with the rest of my signature stack!

Step 6.) Cut paper. My copy paper is 8.5 x 11 inches. I know that how my signatures come out, the size I like to cut them to is 5 x 7.5. So with my paper cutter I cut one end down to 8 inches, then the other end to 7.5 inches, then lengthwise down to 5 inches. Again, whatever size works best for you, do that! Just make sure you know what the size is so you can keep it even across the board. (Or if you're like me: as even as you can get it.)

Step 7.) If I have time between cutting and poking, I smush them again, but if not I go right to poking holes!

Or...well, measure first. First you take one signature and mark on the edge where the center is. Then you make 3 marks on either side of it, spread out evenly. (I usually mark an inch apart for each mark outward.

Then you can stack the signatures and use a ruler and mark down so each signature has 7 marks for where you'll poke the holes.

Step 8.) Actual hole punching. I keep cardboard boxes around and use those to cut on top of. I grab a stretch of cardboard and place my signature unfolded on it and use an awl to poke a hole at each point I marked.

Step 9.) I like to give them more smush time before stitching, but after the holes you can stitch them. For this...I give you this Sea Lemon video: How to Stitch a Text Block for Case Book Binding. This is the method I use. I prefer unwaxed thread (I specifically use one I ordered from Hollander's) and I prefer to use a curved needle. I also use clamps to hold my "to do" pile of signatures together while I work, but that's because I like to stitch while laid out in bed or on the couch watching true crime videos LOL.

Not going to lie: stitching the text block is my favorite part. I find it very soothing! (Even if I'm watching true crime while doing it.) (Though for this one I was watching Wendigoon instead...weird/creepy stuff is just as fun as true crime ig 🤷‍♀️)

Note: a lot of sources I found have you glue the endpapers towards the end, but I prefer to stitch mine into the text block. I favor pretty sturdy endpapers, which is good since I basically have to do a row of stitching them alone, which might be too much stress for thinner paper.

Step 10.) yep...time to smush those signatures again!

Step 11.) Once they're pretty smushed, I do some gluing. I like to use headbands (which is decorative) and then you need to put down book cloth for extra stability. You need enough bookcloth to go down most of the spine, and a little bit on either side of the papers. Then you let it all dry while you work on the case, which I'll show you in Part 3!

I use PVA glue (I use Lineco brand which I ordered from Amazon) to put it all down. Normally I only glue down the spine, but for whatever reason I also 1.) used excess of the headband that I glued around and then I glued the bookcloth to the endpapers instead of leaving the excess out to glue down to the case later. Oops. Guess we'll see how that goes.

Also, while I didn't get a picture of it...

Step 12.) SMUSH. I put wax paper all around it so the glue wouldn't stick to anything else, then I stuck them back under weight. I've never smushed them again once I got to the gluing but I discovered the magic of wax paper a little late in the game last time, so we'll see how this goes!

[bluegoblinzz]

The Sky King’s Nest

Green fire crackled over coals in a metal dish in the center of the desk. Three obsidian eggs huddled against each other on top of the fire, their centers glowing a faint blue from the heat. Around the edges of this plate were jagged inscriptions. K’eriar script. The hot tempered brother of the flowing relaxed Lawam draconian script. 

There was a small notebook on the very edge of the desk to the left of this plate. A quill sat inside, with a bottle of ink sitting on the page in the upper right hand corner. On the left hand side, there were flowing black Lawam glyphs, stacked on top of each other. The lines grew and shrank in thickness, showing real attention to the meaning of the glyphs. On the right hand side, there was messily scribbled human runes. They read: 

One egg has hatched today. The hatchling was very sleepy and I needed to help it out and bring it outside myself. It appears this hatchling is not a sage dragon, but rather a green giant by the way it is not yet able to fly and hunt on its own as their twin species is able to. This is exciting news. I have never taken care of a green giant before, and if I tame it properly, there may be several adventures we may go on. I shall name them tomorrow. 

To the right of the plate, a small jade dragon slept, its head and tail curled towards each other, taking long and slow breaths, a plume of pure black smoke coming from its nostrils each time it exhaled. Despite this internal fire that must have lit itself, it still, slept close to the heated plate where the eggs of its siblings sat, completely neglecting the pillow that sat on the back corner of the desk, securely secluded between two walls. The pillow was a beautiful red with a large Lawam character drawn over it, waving spiraling golden threads knitted into the fabric. Its translation: Solace.

Viscous liquids in small wax sealed jars sat above the desk on a well dusted, all labeled with human runes.  They ranged from shades of brown, to green, to yellow with red speckles. On the far left was the darkest jar labeled “stomach tonic.” To the right of that was a green-ish liquid labeled: “love potion.” After that came a darkened yellow liquid with orange chunks floating inside. It had the consistency of a compote. It was labeled “Lust potion.” To the right of that was a dark brown potion that was less viscous than the rest of them. It was the shade of cacao, and was labeled “potion of luck.” Next to that was the only potion that was clear, though the jar was half empty, and it stuck to the sides like honey or sap. It was labeled “Demon warding salve.” The rest of the potions’ labeled were wearing off, and couldn’t be read. 

Over on the other side of the room was a bed barely fit for one person, the legs so short it nearly touched the floor. Despite this, the sheet was carefully tucked under the mattress, the green blanket folded over, both having no wrinkles in it. A cup of tea was left on the night stand, still steaming. Some of the golden liquid settled around the bottom, staining the light wood, and leaving yet another circle to join the knot. Next to it was another jar like the one on the shelf. It was labeled in much clearer and much bigger human runes. DO NOT USE UNTIL THE SKY CALLS. It was empty. On the pillow of the bed there was a note. 

He who finds this humble hut is my heir. Rejoice, as you have been gifted with powers many mortals only wish for, and experiences that are unheard of. The books shall teach you everything you need to know, and I shall show you all you need to see. You must relinquish your old life in order to guard the sky, as I have done when I found this cabin, and as I am about to do in order to teach you. A Sky King Must learn from a dragon he is about to rule. And his dragon teacher must know what it’s like to be a king. 

The door was left open, leaving speckled snowflakes to flow inside from the winter wind. Foot prints lead out away from the cabin, slowly becoming claw marks with a tail’s trail cutting between them. Then… they abruptly disappeared. 

[mo79zz]

Process Book Shots

These are my finalised process book shots done in the studio. I photographed my favourite pages and the singular front and back pages. The alignment for the front and inside front cover were perfect and there's no white borders or strips anywhere.

I really like what I added on these two pages, I think a message from the artist is a nice touch and I will be carrying this over in future books. The addition of the 3 stacked semi circles on the right helps to balance out the business of the left side cover while still keeping it nice and simple. Unfortunately, the pages of my book were slightly out of line with the cover when sticking it so the bottom of the shapes were cut off but as I had large margins on my pages it didn't effect the rest of the pages - and any with a full bleed image got cropped within the bleed marks still.

The addition of the tabs on the right hand side of each page was nice as when you look at the book side on you can see the block of colour (not pictured very well)

I really like my contents page and think it's unique to anything else I had seen. I maybe could have shrunk the text a bit more so that less was cut off but it is still 100% readable and works well. The pink and red contrast is nice yet still similar and the wavy line through it ties in everything well.

My front cover is simple yet gets the message across and still ties in all elements from my book - design wise. I like the colour difference from the back to the front and that the shapes cross over to the back - allowing me to add in my name in one of the shapes.

these are some of my favourite spreads. I like the layouts of them and how well you can see the images due to the size of my book, it helps being able to read the mind map for ideas and you can also slightly read the Miro board text. I really love the tracing paper page and how it symbolises my thinking in illustrating on top of images. I do wish however that I could have credited the images but I lost the links as they were downloads.

Evaluation:

At the start when we were briefed about this I was quite hesitant as I had too many design ideas so didn't know what to pick. I had the intention to work on it while doing projects so I could update it as I went but I'm glad I didn't as leaving it till the last few weeks of term meant I had more pieces to work with and flow through my book. I have really loved the process of making this book, being able to have my blog in a physical form with elements of my design implemented throughout. There are definitely some errors within, however only minor. I could have definitely done with doing an entire test print rather than just the first few pages as I forgot some of the coloured tabs on pages and there was a random shape on one of my pages too. These are such small problems though and don't affect much within my book. However, one slightly more major issue is that my QR codes have deactivated, the website I used only allowed a 7 day free trial (something I didn't even know about) which had timed out by printing. The canva created QR codes work for my app pages but none of the other ones do which is quite frustrating, so I will print out new versions that work and paperclip them in and update them on the indesign file to have functional ones for upload. This is something I will definitely take into consideration for my next book as I really like the feature as it makes the book quite interactive. I also didn’t proof read my text which is something I should definitely do, to make sure it all reads okay and to ensure there are no orphans or widows. Next time I will also try and keep all my text widths the same as they do vary throughout the book - and I will put more time into perfecting these things to get into the habit of doing it for future text heavy projects (and its just good practice in general). Overall, I am really proud of myself for achieving this, especially it being my first one and I look forward to creating more and being able to see my development from book to book and compare my first book to my final one.

[icanonlybe-human]

For once, I’ve actually got some good news.

You know how I said that the first psychiatric place I gave my referral to rejected it? Well that night, I emailed the other referral to the other place that (thankfully) AB insisted the doctor give me. I got a call yesterday morning while I was driving to work that the second place had a cancellation and was available on Thursday at 8.30am with the doctor that I had hoped to get if I was to go to this place. It all happened so fast and I’m so happy that I’ve made progress so quickly. I was expecting to have to wait months to see a psychiatrist, and here I am waiting 48 hours since I sent the email.

I think it came at a good time too. I’m still not in a very good headspace and I’m getting more paranoid about the girls at work. Even getting paranoid about Jay and whether she is actually my friend. My depression says that I’m just annoying her and I should stop Skyping her so much. It’s also telling me that I’m Skyping too much in general and working too slow and that my work is crap. I just spiralled a little writing that. My brain is telling me that the prints I’m working on now will never be sold because they’re no where near as good as the other girls’ work. And comparing how many prints I’ve done compared to the amount that they’ve done isn’t making it better. I mean, one girl had a day off because of a migraine and has still done more than me.

I know the healing and treatment is going to be a long process, but I think even just having that hope of having a first session is really helpful.

It fucking sucks how expensive it is though. Around 450 for the first session and Medicare only rebates half of it. So I still pay 450 AUD up front and then a day later get 225 back. But that’s 225 for a single hour. If I didn’t have the savings I do, I’d be fucked. Royally.

But tomorrow is my last day of the week because I’m taking Friday off. I’m seeing Dad tomorrow night, he’s down for the last time now he’s been made redundant from his job. Aunty N said we’re probably going to the pub for dinner which will be nice. I get puppy cuddles. And just spending time with Aunty N and Uncle Bo is really nice. They actually get what I’m going through. They know my autism diagnosis and haven’t treated me any different because of it. They’ve welcomed me into their home like I’m their third child and I’m just so grateful and love them so much because of it. I wish I could help out more than just giving them free underwear and body wash and now kids clothes. I don’t think anything could stack up to what they’ve done for me mentally.

[sincityriddler]

Weekly Update 1/8/2023

What an quiet but yet interesting start to the new year. I was glad I did not have to work but also was not able to plan to much outside of some things that I needed to get done. I need to spend some time today organizing a shelf I have in the garage so I can store all the plant supplies I have. I have gotten so much over time that I need to get all that organized and put into some bins so that they are easy to find. Currently I have everything all over the place and yesterday it would have been nice to have the tool cart I have some of the stuff stored on for working on my truck. 

I did ran into an old friend who had to give me a big hug because she was so glad to see me. It definitely was not a normal friendship hug but given all that has gone on the last 3 years I am not going to say anything. I did tell her I would help get some or the archives at the Burlesque museum she is helping to run organized. I am a history buff and have been volunteering at another museum since 2016. We need more stuff like museums here where I live.  I did get an archival box so I have a place to store my museum notes and notes of anything I do there. 

Which is also why I have been getting all the pictures I have from the museum printed out so that I can put them in an album. I did get some printed out as scrapbook pages but those are the ones that are for me since they are some of the fun things I have done there. Some are of my niece when I took her there to get to hold a snake and some of the lizards. I took all those pictures and had them printed out as a collage. This year when I go to comic con I am going to make a photo book of my time there instead of just putting everything on a portable hard drive. 

I know having photo albums will add to clutter but I can get some archival boxes to keep them in so that they are organized and kept safe. I do at some point need to get some bankers boxes to start storing some of my papers in so that they will be easy to keep track of and will allow me to stack them nicely for future storage and possible donation to a universities special collection. The history buff in me is never going to go away when it comes to some things. 

[ceterisparibus116]

Hi! Law-adjacent ask for the sake of fic-writing. What kinds of papers would/could lie around in a lawyers office?

I am writing a fic where I have a scene where I want Matt and Foggy to deal with some paper-mess in Foggy's office (so we're talking printed papers and Foggy's scribbled notes now, not Matt's braille copies) and I have no idea what documents lawyers reasonably would handle in digital format and what they would have on paper. Or in general, what materials/documents are part of every day life for a lawyer?

If it's possible, could you say something about where those physical papers would have come from (like what documents they would have gotten from someone/somewhere else and what kinds of papers they print out in their own office, or something like that), to maybe give Matt some sensory information to work with?

Hope you're having a great day! And it's alway a delight to read your fics!

Hi! This is a great question! Although...it really does depend on the office. So I guess that's good news, insofar as it gives you a lot of freedom to write what you want?

Documents in general include:

Police reports

Witness statements

Lab results (like testing drugs, blood alcohol levels, etc.)

Reports and evaluations (drug and alcohol evaluations, domestic violence evaluations, and psychosexual evaluations are the most common evaluations in my area)

Pictures!!! (Do these count as documents? If they're printed on paper?)

Motions and drafts of motions

Judicial orders

Notes, notes, and more notes

A printed portion of a statute or case law

Questions for witnesses

Opening statements / closing arguments / notes for other types of arguments (like an argument at a hearing)

Whether these things are printed or accessed electronically will depend on the attorney, and on how things are filed.

Like, I have to print out a lot of papers because my office is run on physical paper, and a lot of what we do (like redacting documents, filling out forms, signing things, etc.) is done with physical pens, and then we scan the documents to file them.

But other than that, my personal preference is to have everything online. I love my ctrl + f function, and I love zooming in to be able to actually see what I'm doing. So unless I'm literally going to trial, most of my notes are on my computer.

But other attorneys at my office swear by paper notes. They always want physical copies of everything.

I could totally see Foggy as the type of guy who'd print out everything. Idk, but he didn't seem to grow up with computers, and I just feel like he likes to run his hands through things and really feel an object's tangible presence.

So if you want Foggy to have a giant mess of documents, here are some ideas:

Police reports, witness statements, lab results, and other items turned over in "discovery" which he received from the prosecutor, probably online, and promptly printed out

(Note: these may or may not be from cases that are like over a year old)

Evaluations received from court-approved evaluators (probably also received online, and then printed out)

Personal drafts of motions and questions for witnesses, along with notes, that he's typed out and printed out, or scribbled on a legal pad, or even scribbled on the back of another document that he hopes isn't too important

Maybe an email from a client that he's very proud of and printed it out intending to hang up on his wall as a reminder that We Are Doing Good Here, Matt, but it somehow ended up in a stack of other papers

A very passive-aggressive email from a prosecutor who thinks she's all that, and it makes him laugh, and he printed it out to hang up on the microwave, but Karen told him that would be Unprofessional, so now it's lost somewhere

etc.

Does this help?