#and it still could probably use some work

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[elllisaaa]

OOPS - C. YEONJUN

KINKTOBER DAY 23 - SEXTING

SUMMARY : when your best friend receives a nude from you on a random tuesday, he feels the need to seek some clarification, and maybe that it is his chance to finally fuck you like he's been wanting to for years.

-> pairing : bff!yeonjun x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.6k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sexting (obviously), sending nudes and videos, masturbation (f. and m.), dirty talk, teasing, begging, praising, phone sex

+ the way i'm depicting yeonjun does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | txt masterlist | kinktober 2024

You had always been a clumsy person, and sending a text to the wrong person had already happened to you countless times, leading sometimes to awkward situations, but never as embarrassing as the one you were in right now. You groaned as you looked down at your phone screen, the chat with your best friend still opened. And there, a picture of you wearing pretty much nothing took centre stage. 

you :  [1 attachement] i could use some company tonight… junnie :  ??? wtf y/n ???

Your cheeks were burning, and all you wanted to do was to bury yourself six feet under but sadly you couldn’t. And you didn’t even know what to say because obviously, you hadn’t sent that to the right person. Truthfully, these nudes were just meant to some guy you met through a common friend. You had gone on a few dates together, and even though he wasn’t exactly your type, nor was he really interesting, you were a woman with needs, and a lonely woman at that. Hence why you were about to send him this mirror photo, with you posing in nothing but black lacy panties and your oversized shirt lifted up to show part of your boobs. 

you :  fuck don’t look at that delete delete delete it wasn’t mean for you junnie :  yeah could’ve guessed who were you going to send that to anyway ? you’re bitchless you :  first of all fuck you i’ve got plenty of bitches second and even though that’s none of your business, i’m seeing someone lately

The way Yeonjun seemed to care that much helped you relax a bit. His first reaction only seemed to be out of surprise, and you would have reacted the same way if you had received a sudden half-naked pic from your best friend too. Though, you would’ve probably not deleted it right away. 

junnie :  you mean that lame guy who couldn’t even pay for his own meal the three times you went out ? he’s an ass you :  well maybe but he’s my only option and i’m in need junnie :  doesn’t matter you can do way better than this jerk you’re too smoking hot to be sending that to him

Your cheeks took an even darker shade of red as you read his compliments, but it was not out of shame this time. It wasn’t unusual for Yeonjun to praise your looks actually, but never in such a bold way. And the fact that he was not referring to your pretty face but most likely to your body made some feelings swirl inside of your stomach - some feelings that shouldn’t even be there in the first place but that you couldn’t stop. 

junnie :  cat got your tongue darling ? you :  no gotta go  junnie :  to send him your nudes ? you :  and so what ? you jealous ? junnie :  maybe bet that loser couldn’t even make you cum anyway you :  and you could ?

This conversation was taking a turn you hadn’t expected, but a turn you liked very much, a turn you maybe liked a bit too much. You bit down on your lips as you waited for Yeonjun’s answer, though nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were about to read. 

junnie :  oh darling i would ruin you if you asked make you cum on my fingers first, until you’re dripping everywhere make you come on my tongue next, until you’re crying out my name and then i’ll give you my cock and i’ll fuck you better than any other guy you had before so, still need that jerk ?

You stayed speechless for a good minute that felt like an hour. There had always been some kind of tension between you and Yeonjun, always had been something underlying feelings that you didn’t want to misinterpret. He always looked at you and talked to you and flirted with you in a way that was way more than friendly, and you had always wanted him too - because let’s be real, who wouldn’t ?

you :  i’d let you do all that [1 attachment]

On the receiving end of your texts, Yeonjun couldn’t believe what was happening, couldn’t believe that this wasn’t just another one of his wet dreams, with you taking the first role and making him crave you and your body even more. He had wanted you for such a long time that it was hard for him to acknowledge that you had sent him another nude, another shot of your now naked tits, and that this time, you had done it while being absolutely conscious of who you were sending it to.

junnie :  fuck, you’re so beautiful darling tell me this isn’t a joke tell me you’re going to let me put my hands on you you :  i’m not one to joke about something like that, you know that are you touching yourself too ? [1 attachment]

His heart was racing in his chest as he opened the next photo - this time, a closer pic of your drenched panties, your fingers pressing against your clit through the material. He had been palming his cock over his sweatpants ever since he had received the first photo from you, and even if you had told him to delete it, he would’ve probably kept it for a while, because he couldn’t just forget about it just like that, because he needed you. And now, he needed you to see how bad he wanted you. He took a quick pic of the obvious bulge deforming his sweats before sending it to you without any shame. 

junnie :  [1 attachment] what do you think ? you :  show me more junnie :  [1 attachment] enough ? you :  shit i knew you were big you would fill me up so good [1 attachment]  wish it was your cock instead of my fingers

Yeonjun’s head was spinning with want, with all the fantasies he ever had about you and the new ones you were stirring inside of him with your little game. Every photo you sent became more and more revealing, and with each new one, his hand only sped up his rhythm. He didn’t care about how late at night it was, he didn’t care if one of the other guys could hear him, he just couldn’t stop when you kept sending him shots of your glistening folds and videos of your fingers covered in slick, spreading it across your hardened nipples.

junnie :  you’re driving me crazy look what you’re doing to me [1 attachment] wish you were here to sit down on my cock i know you would take it so well make the prettiest sounds for me too

The video of Yeonjun quickly getting himself off, paired with his airy moans and low grunts you could hear in the background made you even wetter if that was possible, your own fingers speeding up and rubbing against your g-spot making you feel close to the edge already. Your texts were starting to have more and more typos but you didn’t care, it felt too good to stop now. 

you :  i wpuld  frck junnie i nzed you so bad i’m so clode  [1 attachment]

This last video of you moaning his name was all Yeonjun needed to finally call you. The game had been fun, but he wanted to hear you as you came for him, wanted to hear through the phone how wet you were. Within a second, you answered the call and your needy whimpers immediately ringing through his ears felt like the greatest music he had ever heard. 

“- Fuck darling, you sound so good. 

- Junnie… Need you so bad…

- Me too, shit, you’re making me go crazy.”

Another one of your moans was the only answer he got, but it was more than enough for him to feel the knot in his stomach tightening as well. Your high-pitched voice was heavenly, and with his eyes closed and his imagination working overtime with all the photos you had sent to him, it was easy for Yeonjun to picture you touching yourself, all wet and ready for him.

“- I’m so close Junnie…

- Me too, darling… Cum with me, let me hear you.”

Your sounds of pleasure only elevated as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a hurricane, and Yeonjun let go too, covering his own hand in loads of cum as he moaned your name. For a while, the only sound that either of you could hear was the one of your heavy breathing, trying to regain some sense of consciousness after what had just happened. 

“- Are you still there darling ?”

You hummed absentmindedly, your mind still clouded with the intensity of your release. You rolled over your stomach to take some tissue and wipe your fingers from your slick, and then you took a hold of your phone again. You didn’t really know what to say now, but you didn’t want things to become awkward between the two of you, so you tried to crack a joke to break the ice. 

“- I thought you were a gentleman, but you’re here giving orgasms to girls when you’re not even with them.”

Yeonjun chuckled on the other end of the line, cleaning himself up a little too. 

“- I can be a gentleman. All you have to do is ask Y/N. Say the words and I’ll take you out on a date tomorrow. 

- And if I want you to come over and fuck me ?

- I’ll be there in ten.”

A smirk spread out on your lips as Yeonjun immediately hung up, but you had heard him rushing in the background before he ended the call. Sometimes, sending the wrong text to the wrong person wasn’t such a bad thing.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

txt taglist (fill in this to added) :

@lala-----------lala @bbgnyx @hann1bee @rikiives @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @seomisaho @dylanobr1ens @straytiny127

kinktober taglist (dm or comment to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @leeknowinggg @anxiousskylar @mikaelless

[fangdokja]

How about a yandere boyfriend on Valentine's Day? Where he wraps a gift to give to his sweetheart himself.

The perfect Valentine’s present: something personal, thoughtful, and won’t scream anymore.

♡ Yan-Apocalypse x Fem. Reader. Boss, Neighbor, Torture Professional, Loner

♡ Word Count. 3,407

♡ Yandere! Boss who has been a pain in your ass since childhood. You hated him back then, and you hate him now, except now he owns your ass as your boss in this wretched hellscape called the apocalypse. A born leader, an absolute slave driver, and the only man who could turn the end of the world into a business opportunity. He should've died with the rest of humanity, but no, he somehow made it out alive—alongside you. Lucky you.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who never let you live in peace even before the world went to shit. The kind of guy who would slip notes under your door just to remind you he existed. The guy who had the audacity to work in a cafe with a sickeningly charming smile despite making your life a waking nightmare. And now, even with society collapsed, he still finds ways to piss you off. He calls it love. You call it suffering. Turns out he was also a serial killer before all this. Should've seen that one coming.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who you used to think was just a weird but tolerable coworker. You considered him an older brother. He considered you his most entertaining toy. Now that the world has no laws, he's free to indulge in whatever twisted desires he kept hidden before. The worst part? He still acts like he's just your friendly workplace senior. Smiles and all.

♡ Yandere! Loner who is the only reason you haven't starved to death yet. Pays the rent. Handles all the outside world bullshit. Does all the talking for you because you'd rather die than interact with people. A true blessing in your hermit lifestyle, except for the small problem that he's hopelessly obsessed with you. A punk goth with a brooding air and a quiet intensity that makes your skin crawl. But if you had to pick a single tolerable person on the planet, it’d probably be him. That’s a low bar.

────────────

You, unfortunate recluse and apocalypse prepper, who told everyone this shit would happen.

They laughed at you. Laughed.

"A zombie apocalypse? Aliens? Nuclear fallout? Society crumbling overnight? Sure thing, basement dweller. Maybe you should go touch some grass."

Well, guess who's laughing now? Not them. Because they're dead.

The world didn't end in the way you expected. No rotting undead. No UFOs in the sky. No nuclear war or artificial intelligence takeover. No, what came was far worse. A virus, slow-acting, like a whisper through the bloodstream. It didn't kill outright. It awakened.

People started changing. Not into monsters, not physically. But mentally? The virus stripped them of the one thing keeping them from turning into beasts: morality. Empathy. Restraint. The very things that made human beings function in a civilized society.

Because love? Love was a sickness.

No, literally. Scientists called it the Eros Virus, but people online had a better name for it: the Yandere Plague. Something about brain chemistry short-circuiting. Something about possessiveness going haywire, loyalty turning to violence, and rational thought being replaced with "If I can’t have you, no one can."

Anyone infected didn’t just crave affection—they needed it, like oxygen, like water, like a reason to live. Love wasn’t an emotion anymore; it was hunger. A sickness that turned even the kindest souls into unrecognizable demons with one singular goal: claim, possess, devour.

They became killers for love.

Murderers in the name of devotion.

And you, the reclusive scientist, the unfeeling shut-in, the paranoid "loser" who had wasted her life avoiding people—

You were, somehow, the most normal person left.

Wasn't that hilarious?

It wasn’t the apocalypse you prepared for, but you adapted fast.

Because you had already prepared for everything.

Society? A joke. Socializing? A waste of time. Going outside? You’d rather gouge out your own eyes. What was the point? Every moment spent dealing with another human being was a moment spent losing brain cells.

So you did what any sane, logical, perfectly rational person would do. You locked yourself in your basement, poured your life into scientific research, and became a competitive hardcore gamer on the side—because who needed real friends when you had anonymous usernames to destroy in ranked matches?

Your bunker was stocked. Your defenses were up. A lifetime of being dismissed as a socially inept loser had finally paid off. You were immune, too, but not because of genetics or luck—you were just dead inside. No feelings? No infection. A win for your emotional stuntedness.

You should’ve been safe.

And then they came.

Great. Another reason to hate Valentine’s Day.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Boss who still forces you to clock in despite the apocalypse. Who calls you at ungodly hours with urgent demands, despite there being no more laws, no more corporations, no more hierarchy—just the last vestiges of his god complex refusing to die.

♡ Yandere! Boss who never celebrated Valentine's Day. Too busy grinding, too busy winning, too busy treating human relationships like expendable stock options.

♡ Yandere! Boss who always thought the holiday was pathetic, a weak man’s excuse to grovel for attention. That was, of course, until the virus. Now, Valentine’s Day is a state-mandated holiday. Forced festivities, sickly sweet declarations, and the absolute worst part—he has to participate.

♡ Yandere! Boss who takes it as seriously as a business merger. If he’s going to be forced into this, then he’s going to win Valentine’s Day.

You’re barely paying attention when he slides a box across the desk. You don’t even look up. “I don’t want it.”

He smiles. “You’ll want this one.”

You don’t. You really don’t. But you open it anyway.

Inside is a ring box.

You stare at it. Then at him. Then at it again.

♡ Yandere! Boss raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to try it on?”

You pick up the ring delicately. Turn it over. Squint at the inscription inside.

“Oh,” you say flatly. “My name’s on this.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean—it’s made of my name. Like, in bone.”

He folds his hands, smirking. “I figured you wouldn’t accept an engagement ring, so I made it special.”

You roll the ring between your fingers. It’s light. Suspiciously so. “And whose bones exactly did you use?”

“Whose do you want me to have used?”

You drop it immediately.

♡ Yandere! Boss laughs, plucking it up and slipping it onto your finger before you can protest. “Don’t lose it,” he says, voice like velvet. “It cost me quite a bit.”

And when you rip it off and throw it at his face, he catches it effortlessly.

“Now, now,” he chides. “If you keep rejecting me like this, I’ll have to find more ways to show you how much I care.”

Great. Fantastic. You were going to need more coffee.

♡ Yandere! Boss who believes this is the height of romance, who looks at you like he's waiting for praise, like he expects you to clasp the ring around your delicate finger and thank him for such a thoughtful gift.

"You will wear it," he informs you, adjusting his cuffs. "Consider it an accessory to your uniform."

"My... uniform?" you echo, bluntly.

"Your contract states that all employees must adhere to a strict dress code. That hasn't changed."

You stare deadpan at him. "What contract?"

"The one that legally binds you to me."

"...You mean the one that burned with the rest of the city?"

"The one I memorized, re-wrote by hand, and had laminated."

———

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who’s the kind of menace that thrives in a post-apocalyptic hellscape because it justifies all his worst behaviors. You were already suffering pre-virus—imagine living next door to a man who rings your doorbell at 3 AM because he 'forgot his keys' and needs to 'crash at your place' when you both know damn well he lives alone.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who worked at a café with peak customer service skills, all sunshine and charm, as if he wasn’t the same bastard who stole your mail and laughed when you had to fight a rabid raccoon over your own packages. Turns out, he was also a serial killer. Ah, that explains why he was so good at making latte art. Steady hands.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who still acts like life is just a quirky slice-of-life anime, despite the blood-soaked streets outside.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who doesn’t just run the only functional café left—he practically owns it, like some twisted romance game NPC who refuses to acknowledge reality.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who actually loves Valentine’s Day. Always has. Loves the chocolates, the flowers, the corny messages—but most of all, he loves the hunt.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who goes all out with the decorations. Pink hearts, tacky cupids, streamers. He makes his cafe look like a Pinterest nightmare. And you, his most reluctant customer, get the special treatment.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor knocks on your door on Valentine’s Day. You consider not answering, but then he kicks the door in.

“Delivery!” he sings, shoving a massive, suspiciously leaking gift box into your arms.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who doesn’t understand why you look at him like that. You always give him that look—like you’re two seconds away from dropkicking him into the abyss.

You look down. Then up. “I’m not touching this.”

“But I wrapped it myself,” he whines.

“That’s what makes it worse.”

He pouts. “At least open it before you reject me so coldly.”

You sigh. The world is already a nightmare, and you might as well see what fresh horror awaits.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who grins as he gestures to the heart-shaped box, red and gaudy, the kind of thing you’d find at a dollar store—except when you open it, the “chocolates” are… not chocolates. They’re actual, physical human teeth. A variety of them. Some still have bits of gum attached.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who bursts out laughing when you glare down at the "chocolates", like you’re the weird one. “What? I collected them myself! It’s personal! Romantic!”

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “You wanna know which ones are mine?”

You slam the box shut and push it back toward him. “I hope you choke.”

He laughs, leaning in closer. “On your love?”

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who laughs when you glare, toss the box onto the bunker floor, and stomp over it like roadkill.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who opts to present you with one more gift, a heart-shaped cake, homemade with love. You eye it suspiciously. He grins.

"Try it, sweetheart. You’re my taste tester, after all."

You stare at him. Then at the cake. Then back at him.

"Who did you kill for this?"

He just laughs.

You stare at him, unimpressed. He stares back, beaming.

“Eat up! It’s fresh.”

You’re so fucking tired.

———

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who you consider an older brother, but he considers you his future wife. Who was weirdly doting, oddly protective, and just a little too interested in your well-being.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who you think is just a little too eccentric, but harmless. Who used to send you the occasional unsettling text—things like “Ever wonder how long someone can scream before they pass out?”—but you always wrote it off as him being quirky.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who, in hindsight, should have been more of a red flag than he was. Who got way too much enjoyment out of cutting people open. Who told you, once upon a time, that he "studied anatomy for fun" and you just thought he was a medical student.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who worked in interrogation before the world went to hell. Who still carries scalpels in his coat because old habits die hard.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who doesn’t really get the “boyfriend” part of “yandere boyfriend” and just assumes it means he gets to be creative.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who’s technically been your co-worker for years, but only in the loosest sense—he’s not really part of the science department, just the clean-up crew.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who actually considers you his greatest weakness. His one fatal flaw. His "little sister"—if, of course, little sisters were meant to be dissected with love and put back together with slightly modified parts.

His Valentine’s gift arrives in a steel box.

With a lock.

"If this is actually chocolate," you say, voice flat, "I'll be shocked."

"Oh, sweetheart," he hums, tilting his head, "you should know me better by now."

You don’t even want to open it, but he’s sitting there, waiting.

You crack it open.

It’s a spine. A full human spine, polished and arranged in the shape of a bow, like a demented art piece.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who watches you closely as you stare at the ‘gift�� with the deadest expression known to man. He wants to see if you’ll faint. You don’t. You never do. And he loves that about you.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who chuckles, resting his chin on his hand. "A shame," he muses. "I wanted to carve your name into it, but I thought I'd let you do the honors."

"Do you like it?" he asks, voice laced with amusement.

"No," you say flatly, dropping the gift onto the table like it personally offended you.

“C’mon, doll,” he says, voice all honey-sweet persuasion. “I put a lot of effort into it. Had to find the perfect one. Strong. Flexible. A real good match for you.”

You slam the box shut.

He tilts his head, considering. “Oh, wait. I forgot the bow.”

He pulls out a severed head from his duffel bag.

You try to leave the room.

He doesn't let you.

He decides to go for Attempt #2.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional grabs and drags you inside another room, forcing you to sit on a chair, and claps his hands together like a magician unveiling his latest trick.

"Tada!"

You stare at the body strapped to the chair in front of you, gagged, trembling, eyes darting between you and him in terror.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who leans down and whispers, "You’ve been so stressed lately. So, I figured, why not give you something relaxing? Torture is incredibly cathartic, you know."

He presses a scalpel into your hand like an eager child handing over a crayon.

You look at the bound man, then at him, then at the scalpel.

You glance back at him. He grins back. “Isn’t it thoughtful? You can practice your anatomy studies on him! I even left his nerves intact, just for you.”

"I’m not participating in your therapy," you deadpan.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who pouts. "But it’s for you!"

"Return it."

He blinks. "Return him?"

"Yeah."

"That’s not really an option."

You blink at him. Slowly. "I'm reconsidering my stance on homicide."

"You always say that."

"And one day, I might actually follow through."

He beams. "That’s the spirit!"

———

♡ Yandere! Loner who is your roommate and unofficial apocalypse landlord.

♡ Yandere! Loner who barely speaks, barely interacts, and communicates mostly through nods, shrugs, and the occasional annoyed grunt.

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn’t talk much but somehow always gets his point across. He used to be a punk goth who smoked on the fire escape and ignored the world, but now he’s the guy who handles all communication while you rot in the bunker like a gremlin.

♡ Yandere! Loner who never cared about the world even before the apocalypse. Who was content to stay inside, hacking security systems and wiping digital footprints while you made ramen for two and tried not to acknowledge how much you depended on him.

♡ Yandere! Loner who, after dealing with your other admirers, is honestly the most tolerable one. This should concern you.

♡ Yandere! Loner who does not care about the virus, does not care about the world ending, does not even care about you.

(Except for when you leave the bunker without telling him. Or talk to the neighbor too much. Or look at anyone but him. Then it’s a problem.)

♡ Yandere! Loner who acts like he doesn’t give a shit about you, but your supplies never run low, your weapons always have ammo, and if anyone ever gets too close? Well. They stop existing.

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn’t do Valentine’s Day. Valentine's Day is a scam, a joke, a consumerist hellhole of forced sentimentality. He doesn’t do holidays. He doesn’t even acknowledge his own birthday.

♡ Yandere! Loner who, despite being the least expressive of them all, still participates in Valentine’s Day. Not because he cares about the holiday, but because everyone else is doing it and he refuses to be outdone.

♡ Yandere! Loner who somehow managed to get his hands on a plushie. In this hellscape. This absolute nightmare of a world.

♡ Yandere! Loner who shoves it at you, grumbling, "Took forever to find one that wasn’t covered in blood."

♡ Yandere! Loner who shifts uncomfortably as you hold the cute kitten plushie. It’s actually… normal? Soft?

Too good to be true.

You squeeze it. It beeps.

You glance at him. He avoids eye contact.

You unzip the plushie, revealing—

A grenade.

And human skin holding it together.

♡ Yandere! Loner who clears his throat. "…Ignore that."

You stare deadpan.

"What part of 'gift' involves explosives?"

You're not even going to question the stitched human skin. You didn't even want to know why the plushie still felt oddly soft and warm in your hands.

♡ Yandere! Loner who crosses his arms. "It’s multifunctional."

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn't even react when you chuck the plushie across the room, watching it land face-first on the floor with a sickening thud.

♡ Yandere! Loner who, after a long silence, mutters, "Rude."

He decides to try his next attempt at impressing you.

♡ Yandere! Loner who throws a bag at you. No wrapping, no note, just a body bag.

You blink. Look at him. Look at the bag. Look at him again.

"…What the fuck."

"You said you had a problem with that guy, right?" He shrugs, crossing his arms nonchalantly. "Problem solved."

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn’t even care if you appreciate the gesture. He’s not looking for a thank-you. Just confirmation that you understand.

You do. Unfortunately.

You put your head in your hands.

You need a new roommate.

────────────

Valentine's Day, in the apocalypse, is an absolute nightmare.

Normal people—if any still exist—would probably spend the day reminiscing about the past. Thinking about flowers, chocolates, candlelit dinners.

You, on the other hand, get body parts delivered to your doorstep like some kind of fucked-up Amazon Prime service.

Your stalkers—because, let’s be real, that’s what they are—seem to think this is perfectly normal. That nothing says "romance" like dismemberment, exsanguination, and ethically questionable corpse handling.

You, however, are beyond exhausted.

Maybe next year you’ll just dig a hole and die in it.

♡ A/N. I already have a Valentine's Day part scheduled. ... and my requests are closed. But fine, since it's a "holiday". A short drabble at least....

Yandere! Valentines Special

Novella : Red Roses, Black Hearts

This Valentine’s, your heart might be the last thing you give away.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha , @astreaaaaaa6

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[ailelie]

I'll have to consider a Google break-up. But this reminds me how I did just go through separation with Microsoft 365.

My very first step was listing out all the places where I use Microsoft and thinking through what my requirements were for replacing them. OneDrive, for the longest time, was my sticking point. This program has saved me twice now when I've had computer issues. I needed something that would keep copies of my files in the cloud, connect with multiple folders, sync instantly, and connect with my phone. I also wanted to pay no more than I was already paying for Microsoft 365. Finally, it had to be easy to use.

For the Office Suite, I just needed something that could open and edit my Microsoft files and have similar features. I rarely use Word/Excel/etc outside of work, though that may change if I do breakup with Google (I use Google Sheets for myriad things).

OneDrive

To replace the online drive and sync, I've switched to pCloud. It isn't free, though. It costs $50-60/year for 500GB (and about a $100 for 2T).

Steps for switching:

Make sure you have downloaded everything from OneDrive to your computer. Most of your files actually live in the cloud and you'll lose access to them when you uninstall OneDrive (note: they'll still be online).

Move all of your files into your User directory or somewhere else on your computer that isn't your OneDrive folder. (Learn from my mistakes...)

Uninstall OneDrive.

Go through your files and delete all of your OneDrive folders.

Download and install pCloud and follow their directions.

(Note: pCloud does have a OneDrive import feature, but I did not use that and I do not know how well it supports uninstalling OneDrive afterward.)

I also have pCloud on my phone now. I don't know if I just have rosy glasses on, but it feels nicer than the OneDrive app.

(Note: I do not rec NextCloud. I tried it and was met with nothing but pure frustration. Plus, for basic sync, I learned I had to download another program/extension, but then it was super unclear on how to install that extra bit and etc etc etc.)

ETA: OneDrive will still exist in some pretty critical default filepaths (e.g., your desktop folder). I followed this to fix it in my registry.

Office Suite

I've downloaded LibreOffice (free!)for this. If your Calc is an utter glacier when you open it, look up how to check the "Force Skia software rendering" box. That fixed the issue for me.

If you prefer ribbons over menus, there is a view option for that, too.

I am also currently trialing Typora, which costs $15 and is beautiful. It is a Markdown editor in which your Markdown is instantly rendered.

Other Microsoft Apps

I don't tend to use other Microsoft apps much outside of work. If I used a desktop email client, I'd probably go back to Thunderbird, which I used back in college.

As for OneNote, I'm not sure. Obsidian, which I use for my worldbook for my current story, is fantastic, but I've not tried to have different projects on it at once.

For teams, there's Slack and Discord. For the Sharepoint side of teams, maybe Box, Basecamp, or Confluence? I've not really looked into this because I don't use Teams in my non-work life and there is a 0% chance my workplace transitions away from Teams and Sharepoint anytime soon.

For Notepad, Notepad++ has always been one of the first programs I download to new computers. It is stellar.

For other apps, I'm already using alternatives (e.g., VLC Media Player, Firefox, WonderShare) or they aren't programs I even knew existed (e.g., Journal?, Family?). A few, though, just feel like system tools (e.g., Snipping Tool, Calculator).

Of course, there is the Linux of it all.

I have considered linux before. I have even tried linux (Ubuntu) before.

Most of what I use these days will work with Linux, with one major and rather important-to-me exception: Scrivener.

I am yet to find a single other application I like half as well as Scrivener.

Just in time for Valentine’s Day... 💔 

Ready to break up with Google?

So are we!

We’ve rounded up a bunch of privacy-centric alternatives for everything Google.

Check out the full list over on the blog!

- The Ellipsus Team xo

[girlyhornywriter]

Pushing her buttons...

Imagine having a button you could press that magically makes you fatter, by like +1 pound. That'd be neat, right? I wonder where you would draw the line and finally stop pressing it.

I mean, the first dozen presses would just be so you can test if it's actually working. One or two probably wouldn't feel like much, but by the time you hit the double-digits of extra pounds gained, you'd probably feel the extra tightness in your pants. Maybe your shirt would ride up a little bit because your belly and tits have grown a little bigger, but it wouldn't be anything *crazy*. Even after 12 presses, you'd still basically feel the same. Maybe your balance would be a little off with the extra weight, but nothing you can't deal with. If you put a hand on your midriff, you'd notice it bulging out more, and that it's softer and fleshier than you're used to, but all in a good way.

Being realistic though, you wouldn't stop there, would you? You've dreamed of stuff like this. An opportunity to make yourself *so* much fatter is just too tempting for you to pass up. Maybe you'd try to resist the temptation for a while, but we both know you'd fold under the pressure and start pressing it again. Fast.

You'd get undressed and stand in front of a mirror so you could watch your figure swell with dozens of extra pounds of soft, pale blubber. You'd hold your belly in one hand while you press the button with the other. Press after press, you feel it push out just a little bit further. It'd feel softer and softer in your hands as your gut grows heavier and jigglier.

Now you're thirty pounds heavier than you started, and you're *really* starting to notice the results now. Your belly hangs over your thighs quite a lot further than you remember, and your ass is looking so fat when you get a good look at yourself from the side. Stopping now crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it; your tits might be bigger, but they're not really big enough yet, and you're still only at "BBW" size anyway. You can handle some more pressing.

Click by click, you feel yourself growing heavier. Your belly has gotten so big and blubbery that it starts to fold into two thick rolls, giving you a definite double-belly that you can't wait to show off to your girlfriend when she gets home. In the meantime though, you keep pressing the button. You've lost track of the exact number at this point, but you think you're somewhere around 60 pounds heavier than when you started (it's actually closer to 80). You look at your doughy belly and thighs being groped by your hand in the mirror, and notice how much pudgier and softer your hand is starting to look. Nothing is immune to the weight you're piling on, and that just makes you even hornier. You resume clicking it.

Another thirty pounds make their way onto your figure when you stop again, this time because your gaze drifted upwards towards your face. Your cheeks look so much fuller now, giving your face a decidedly rounder shape. Your double-chin is much more pronounced than it used to be; your jawline is completely buried under a thick layer of chubbiness at this point, and you can't help but smile about it. It feels so good to be so much more... *plush*.

You tell yourself that you'll give yourself twenty more presses, then you'll quit. But once you get there, you decide... maybe just a few more. So you press it *another* ten times. Then you notice how close your breasts are to touching when you're sitting down, and can't help but want to see them finally become big enough to rub against each other as you walk. So you keep pressing it. Not really paying attention to the number any more, just to your breasts, as they get heavier and softer and rounder with every click.

Finally, it happens.

Not your breasts touching, like you were waiting for. The chair you were sitting on breaks instead. You hadn't heard it creaking as your fat ass grew ever fatter and heavier with every click of the button. It just hadn't crossed your mind that your furniture had already been struggling against your mass before you got this button. Now though, it had finally given up...

You decided this was your sign to call it quits - you should dust yourself off and think yourself lucky that you didn't do something stupid and make yourself absolutely massive. You drag yourself up onto your feet with a lot more difficulty than you expected, then push the shattered remains of the chair aside with your foot. You check your ass and thighs for any damage, but aside from the massive amount of extra cellulite now occupying them, and the angry red stretchmarks that have suddenly become even more omnipresent across your body, you seem to be fine. You look down for the button, but can't see it anywhere among the debris. You look around the room, when you finally spot it.

Your girlfriend is in the doorway, holding it in her hand.

"I like what you've done to yourself, babe" she says with a smile, her gaze travelling up and down your now much fatter figure, eyeing your new curves and rolls with glee. She licks her lips. "I wonder how you got so big, so fast, princess... Could it be this, maybe?" She presses the button.

Maybe you could have denied the effect the button had just had on you, if it wasn't for the fact that at that moment, the panties you had been wearing finally gave up, shredded by your immense girth with an audible rip and leaving you exposed to your girlfriend in more ways than one. The smile on her face broadens.

"I think I get the picture... Well, shall we see what this thing can do?" She starts clicking the button as fast as her fingers are capable of. Ten pounds, twenty pounds, thirty pounds, you feel your body swelling with the extra mass second by second as she starts to giggle. You try to run towards her, but you're far too fat now to move so quickly, so all you can do is waddle gracelessly towards her as she easily evaded your attempts to grab the button from her hand. You reach the doorway and look down at your expanding body, in awe at just how much of the weight seems to be going straight to your belly rolls. Your thickening paunch slaps against your thickened thighs as you keep trying to pursue your mischievous girlfriend. She escapes into the living room, and you follow her, your steps growing heavier with every click that echoes through your ears.

By the time you corner her in front of the couch, the click count must be at 250 by now, and you're feeling every ounce of the blubber she has poured onto your body. You're exhausted and breathless from trying to catch her, and she can see you're close to collapsing. She speeds up the pace of her clicking, holding the button high above her head where you have no hope of reaching it. You make one final lunge, hoping to swipe it from her hand before you're too fat to stand...

But you miss.

You lose your balance and stumble towards the couch, where you drop heavily onto the straining frame. Your ass takes up far more of space than you're used to and you sink deep into the soft cushions, hearing creak as it settles under your immense bulk. Your girlfriend stands over you, victorious.

"I think that couch had a max weight rating of 800 lbs, didn't it? Shall we test that?"

As much as you struggle against your own fattened figure, you can't haul your fat ass and gut off of the couch. You're just too heavy, and only getting heavier as she presses the button over and over and over again. Your thighs press together even as you try to spread them as wide as possible; your belly fills your entire lap and just keeps spilling out further and further over the edge of the couch; and your tits keep swelling too, easily exceeding G-cups in size with no signs of stopping.

Eventually, inevitably, the couch gives way to your blubber-laden body. You sink down even further as the couch breaks right down the middle, leaving you in a V-shaped dip, helplessly trapped by your hundreds of new pounds of fat and cellulite. Your hands grope your thick rolls of flab and you feel a strange mix of horror and arousal at how soft and jiggly you are now, *all over*.

Your girlfriend looks very pleased with herself.

"I hope you're comfy, big girl, because you're not going to be doing much walking from now on. I was always hoping I could get you to fatten up for me, to turn you into my stay-at-home piggy, too fat to do anything but make herself even fatter. It was always just a pipe dream, but apparently, dreams really *do* come true...

"I'll let you stay like this until I can find us a bed that can handle the massive whale of a girl like you've become. Once I've got you settled there though, I'm going to give this thing a couple hundred more clicks.

"You'll be so helpless and useless, but don't worry, princess. I'll make sure you know how much I love every single inch of you."

[milunalupin]

❤️ with the prompt “c’mon, like i need an excuse to spend time with you.” please!! thank you nicole ily <3

my lovely lovely san happy valentine's day !! thank you for the request ily so much <3

— do you wanna know a secret ?

remus lupin x reader ♥︎ 845 words

The air in the common room was thick with the excitement of Valentine’s Day. Some students were exchanging notes, others were planning for the dance that night, and a few were simply enjoying the sugary sweets scattered across the tables. You, however, found yourself hiding in a corner with your textbook, trying to focus on your charms homework. It wasn’t that you disliked the holiday—it just felt like a reminder of what you didn’t have: someone to share it with.

Of course, there was someone you'd like to spend it with. Remus, your best friend who always seemed to know exactly what you needed, whether it was a laugh, a kind word, or just a quiet moment together.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Remus appeared in the doorway of the common room, his messy hair falling over his eyes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cardigan. He caught sight of you almost immediately, and that familiar, warm smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that made your heart beat a little faster, but you pushed the feeling away. He was your best friend, and that’s all he could ever be, right?

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

You looked up from your book and tried to smile. “Just, uh, trying to get some work done. You know, not everyone is celebrating Valentine’s Day with a dance or chocolates. I’m just not in the mood for all the… fuss.”

Remus nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “I get it. The whole day just feels like a lot of pressure, doesn’t it?” He sat down next to you, shifting a few of your books to the side. “But, you know… if you want, we could just skip all that and hang out. Maybe take a walk around the lake, or—”

You blinked in surprise, cutting him off. “Wait, Sirius isnt forcing you into another double date?"

Remus chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I wasn't really interested in her, it wouldn't have been fun for either of us."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. “Oh,” you said, awkwardly fiddling with a pencil. “Well, you don't have to just sit here with me. I mean, you could always ask someone else…”

“C'mon,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “like I need an excuse to spend time with you. Besides, I don’t need anyone else.” His voice softened at the last part, and his eyes lingered on yours just a moment longer than usual.

For a brief moment, the world felt very still. There was something in the way he said it, something in the way he was looking at you, that made your chest tighten. You’d always known Remus as your closest friend, the person who could make you laugh without even trying, the person who always seemed to understand you in ways no one else could. But hearing those words took you by surprise.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah,” you said softly. “A walk sounds nice.”

The two of you left the common room, walking through the nearly empty corridors. The castle seemed quieter than usual, many couples having gone to Hogsmeade to celebrate the holiday. As you reached the entrance hall, Remus turned toward you, his face more serious now, as though he were gathering the courage to say something.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice hesitant. “Maybe I haven't been as obvious as I thought, but.. I care about you, more than I probably let on. And I guess I’ve been wondering if you.. feel the same?”

Your heart raced at his words, the question hanging in the air between you. It was all so sudden, but somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment in your chest. “Remus,” you said softly, “I’ve always cared about you. You’re my best friend.”

There was a pause, and then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, Remus reached out, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was warm, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“I think I want to be more than that,” he murmured, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles.

You felt your breath catch. For a long moment, you just stood there, looking at him, trying to reconcile the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. And then, with a soft laugh, you squeezed his hand.

“I think I want that too,” you said quietly.

Remus smiled, a mixture of relief and happiness in his expression. And just as the first snowflake of the evening drifted down from the sky, he leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead in a tender, quiet kiss—an unspoken promise.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled back, feeling more content than you had in a long time. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Remus.”

[maeintree]

first kiss statistics | s. reid

Summary: Spencer Reid can’t help but overanalyze, especially when it comes to new experiences. As the moment between you two grows more charged, he dives into a detailed breakdown of first kisses, but before he can get too far into the statistics, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: Fluff, light kissing, and suggestive sexual themes. Author's Note: jus some small fluff to get me started throughout the day! wrote this on the bus so forgive me if the writing is a 'lil ehhh. nevertheless, enjoy <3

Spencer Reid had a tendency to overanalyze, especially when it came to things like numbers, probabilities, and, as you quickly learned, emotions.

You had spent countless hours together—solving cases, sharing stories, laughing at random trivia—but the air between you two had started to shift. The way his eyes lingered a little longer on you, the quiet smiles, and how he’d look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know what was going on. You had been in the same boat for a while now, both dancing around the undeniable pull between you two. But Spencer being Spencer, it was only a matter of time before he tried to make sense of it all—calculated it down to the very last decimal.

And tonight, it seemed, was that night.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in his apartment, a case from the day still fresh in your mind. The distant sound of the TV playing was barely noticeable in the background.

Spencer had been rambling on about the latest book he’d read, something about quantum physics, when he suddenly quieted, his gaze shifting from the pages of his book to you. The space between you seemed impossibly small, yet neither of you moved.

You could feel the tension in the air—both of you were trying to navigate this unspoken thing, but neither of you knew where to begin. You glanced down at your lap, fingers fiddling nervously, before you felt the soft brush of Spencer’s knee against yours.

The light touch, so innocent and casual, made your heart beat a little faster.

“So,” Spencer began, his voice tentative as if he were still unsure of how to broach the topic, “have you ever heard of the psychology behind first kisses?”

You raised an eyebrow, shifting to face him fully. “Spencer, are you really going to lecture me on first kisses?”

His lips twitched in that half-smile you’d come to adore, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders. “No, it’s just... well, the first kiss is crucial. There’s a whole branch of research on it—on how it affects the likelihood of long-term compatibility, how it can set the tone for the entire relationship.”

You tilted your head, already suspecting where this conversation might go. “And what does the research say, Doctor Reid?”

He paused for a moment, considering, before launching into one of his signature monologues.

“Well, according to a study from the University of Michigan, there’s a 70% correlation between a positive first kiss and the success of a relationship. That’s a pretty high percentage, considering there’s so much that could go wrong. Lip pressure, angle, timing... There’s also a study by Dr. Justin Lehmiller that suggests kissing with passion can create a chemical reaction—dopamine and oxytocin—which, in theory, should make us feel more connected to each other.”

You had to bite back a smile.

Spencer Reid. His brain working overtime, analyzing everything, even when the situation didn’t need analysis.

The more he talked, the more you could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his expression becoming more and more absorbed in the science of it all.

“But,” he continued, completely unaware of the amused smile creeping onto your face, “there are a number of variables. For example, the timing of the kiss, the level of comfort between the partners, and—”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Spencer was too cute, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, and you needed to snap him out of it before he started bringing up the various angles and kissing techniques again. You reached out, placing your finger gently over his lips to stop his rambling.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice low but firm, “can you just... stop?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. “Stop?”

“Stop thinking so much,” you said with a soft laugh. “Just for a second.”

His eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “I—I don’t know how to not think, matter of fact, that's impossibl—”

You interrupt him. “Then just feel.” You inched closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you closed the distance.

His eyes darted between your lips and your eyes, his breath quickening, and you could tell he was still trying to calculate the probability of what might happen next.

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, cutting off his analysis entirely.

At first, Spencer was frozen—his body stiff as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening. But then, slowly, tentatively, his lips began to move against yours, a gentle and cautious touch that spoke of everything he hadn’t said yet.

His hand hovered beside you for a moment before gently resting against your shoulder, his fingers brushing your skin.

The kiss was everything you imagined and nothing like what you expected. It wasn’t about probabilities or perfect techniques. It was raw, unfiltered, and real. It was messy in the best possible way, with your hearts beating in sync and everything around you fading into the background.

When you finally pulled away, you could feel the heat on your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes were wide, blinking as if trying to catch up to the moment. His breath was shaky, and his lips parted slightly as though he were still processing the kiss.

“I... uh,” he stammered, trying to find his words, “I didn’t... I didn’t factor in the emotional connection, the—”

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Spencer, I swear to God, if you bring up another statistic right now, I’m going to kiss you again to stop you.”

His eyes widened, a flash of realization crossing his face. “Wait—what do you—”

Before he could say anything else, you stood up and, without a word, slid onto his lap. Spencer froze for a moment, eyes wide as he processed the sudden change, but then his hands instinctively settled on your waist.

His breath hitched as you leaned in, your lips meeting his once again, this time with more intensity.

You deepened the kiss, your hands threading into his hair as you pulled him closer. Spencer’s hands tightened around you, and you could feel the nervous energy melting away as he kissed you back, fully present—just the feeling of you in his arms. The kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, as though neither of you could wait any longer.

When you finally broke away, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing. Spencer’s face was flushed, his lips swollen from the kiss, and his eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and contentment.

“I guess I was right,” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse.

“About what?” you asked, still resting against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

“That some things... don’t need to be calculated,” he said with a smile, his hands gently caressing your back.

You grinned, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

"Good."

hope you enjoyed this fluffy fic. writing this made me happy and i hope you reading it will too :) likes, reposts, and comments are much appreciated!

[dannitarot]

What you need to hear

This short reading will tell you what you need to hear right now. Choose the photo you’re most drawn to. Some of you may feel drawn to more than one pile.

Pile 1-> 2-> 3->4

Pile 1

You can manifest your desires. You have the ability to create the life you want. Make your desires clear and wish wisely. Some of you may doubt your ability to attract what you want. Have faith that it’ll all work out. You’re being reminded to protect your vision by not sharing it with everyone, especially people who won’t believe in you even if they may have pure intentions. Some of you have toxic relationships with friends in particular and need to cut them off. It’s OK to be alone sometimes. You need to take time to yourself to reflect on what you really want for your life in the present and for the future.

Pile 2

Whatever you’re going through, just remember that this too shall pass. Your spirit guides are assisting you through this. They are with you. You could love music and probably listen to music all the time ,singing/humming or playing an instrument(s). Listening to music could lift your spirits and make you feel better. If you have interest in learning a new instrument, now is a good time to start. I see that you will reach a goal or manifest something you really want in the wintertime. Since it’s still winter here in my hemisphere , I feel for a lot of you that it will be by the end of this winter or by next winter for the rest of you. You need to take time to heal. Don’t rush the process. Things will get better. Think positive. What you focus on grows.

Pile 3

Your spirit guides are helping you manifest your desires so wish wisely. You could have been neglecting yourself or your needs. You’re being reminded to look within. Your inner world reflects your outer world. Work on your self concept. You could start with affirmations.

Pile 4

Pay attention to the signs around you. The higher powers speak to us through signs in our environment. You could be feeling motivated to start something and you’re being encouraged to do so. If you need help, ask for it. This new endeavour for you could require group effort. For a lot of you this is could be a business.

THANKS FOR READING 🤍!

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER Pt4

From:

You eyes opened and before you could even muster a work, the monitor said with the velvet voice you recognised so well.- Welcome back, my germ. I'm so glad you're finally awake. We have matters to discuss- Sawyer finished touching your face with his screen.

Your eyes closed halfway due to the light of the screen. A big eye observed you and a soft voice with a mechanic filter talked to you.

You still hadn't processed all of this information, being just woken up and basically blinded by a bright light was not exactly enlightening.

Harley?- You asked, still waking up- Harley is that you?- You looked confused and shocked. You didn't expect... This.- Is this what Leith did to you?.

Your hands started exploring his robotic body: inspecting the wires, twisting your fingers in them; the metallic articulations, bending the ones in his fingers as testing for movement; and his TV head, taking a closer look to the pixels that conformed it

He looked at you in silence while you analysed his whole self -... Yes. But that's not relevant now. I've been trying to reach you. And you've been squirming by sheer luck from my grip.- He still held you face with his cold metal hands. You found it comforting. A cold, dry feeling. It fitted him well.

So... You know what I did?- You already knew the extent of his control on the factory but you wanted to hear it from him- Yes, I do. I must say, excellent job. Liberating 1006... It was excellent- He laughed quietly.-

His hand on your cheek moved to your collarbone and while you were incorporating he put your arms against the wires that resembled his neck and shoulders in a way that you were now supporting yourself solely on him.

You cannot believe the progress the experiments have made...- He was talking very quietly, almost whispering- They had made hell real.- He seemed somewhat fascinated by his own words and you were listening to him very closely, wanting to know more information of the experiments

Some of them are nothing more than violents and hungry beasts.- The fascination was replaced by contempt- But others, the ones who you concluded that showed intelligence... They are taking control of little areas of the factory..

I've always knew that their resentment would make something great- You said, somewhat glad that some toys were showing dominance over others. You could already image who...- Horrible, but great after all.- The way you were saying it was almost mischievous with a hint of satisfaction.

And what about you?- You asked, your tone becoming softer this time- I've been searching for you. What have you been up to Dr?.

There is not much to do here but establishing our chances of survival and my dominance over this factory- You were confused by his words, tightening your grip on his shoulders-

What do you mean by insuring OUR survival?- The question came of a little bit more aggressively than intented.

The prototype... He was the one commanding the toys to end with anyone in their way. When you opened the cages most of them tried toe scale the factory but he blocked the way. He's searching for that clay doll.- You interrupted- The prototype is searching for Poppy? Why?- He continued- She wants to finish him. To destroy him. She disappeared after the hour of joy. That sneaky liar has managed to hide herself very well...

So... What does that have to do with you? With us?- You asked with precaution-

I've made a deal with the prototype... I will improve the toys we have to go against Poppy. He won't kill me since I'm useful. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he needs me for this. I'm his best shot. I'm not worried about the prototype right now.- Harley seemed confident in his statement, and probably he was right.

You remembered the Prototype... Before Doey, he and mommy long legs were your favourites out of all the experiments. They both showed high levels of intelligence and you often turned you interviews with them into something more like a conversation.

Mommy was always willing to talk. Often with a sweet voice but sometimes a more terrifying one would overcome the conversation trying to intimidate you.

But the Prototype was not always willing to talk. Mostly at the start he just stared at you, twitching his metallic hand.

He was the first successful experiment of the company and though he was far from perfect he was one of the most intelligent living beings you ever had the pleasure to converse with.

He was your first job with a non-human patient, it wasn't something you could forget. His hate for the company was never hidden, he had a deep hunger for violence and as new experiments started to come in he would often encourage them to violent acts, this led to him being isolated.

1006 became more erratic, violent and unwilling to collaborate. Other psychologist started to quit and refusing to work with him because of this same reason. They feigned pity for him, compassion and empathy, they tried to hide the instinctive fear they had for him so the prototype acted in response driving them away.

You on the contrary never gave up on him. You didn't offer kind words or condolences for his situation. You acknowledged him as the challenge he was for the stability for the company and talked to him out of pure interest. You own curiosity hungry for understanding what was going inside his mind. He was unique.

It was like the first toy you ever give to a kid. You can break it, hide it or give mor etoys to the child but the first one will always remain in their minds.

With time, the prototype started adopting some of your behaviours. He started imitating you tone of voice when asking, trying to seem more familiar to you by coping your corporal expression .

You knew what he was doing, you did something similar in your first years of career and even used that method with some people.

So tell me, Prototype- You adjusted the comments of the experiment in the table nearby- why did you intimidate the last professional- and please do not insult my intelligence by trying to lie to me- You sigh sounded more like a laugh- either tell me the truth or don't talk, let's not lose time.

What time- Do I HaVe To- LOSE??..- His voice changed from yours to a distorted one and then to mommy's.- YoUr FRIEND the D0c-t0r does Not- L3t M3 leave.

You know full well by, you are hyper aware of everything around you so don't feign innocence on why you are here- You knew Harley was watching through the one way glass on the wall and you knew the prototype knew as well.

Once you and Harley started becoming closer he started insisting on supervising you whenever you had interviews with the most dangerous experiments.

He understood you fascination with them. Their broken minds and the challenge they supposed were a fitting challenge for you, he felt the same with the experiments the company made him run.

Though he has never managed to comprehend your need to maintain direct contact with them. He always insisted on you staying on the observation room and talking with them through it but you always denied it, claiming it killed the fun.

Harley always saw them as nothing more than beasts, he didn't want to see you teared apart by them but he couldn't do anything to stop you.

You lived for the risk and for reconstructing the puzzle that composed the minds of the Playtime experiments.

Even though you were fascinated by the experiments you couldn't help but enjoying your superior positions in comparison to them.

You couldn't see yourself subjecting to your own protects, as selfish as that may sound.

Y/N?- Sawyer's metallic voice woke you up from your memories- Your heart rate has decrease, you have spaced out.

So basically, 1006 is the one in control here- You mumbled, still looking directly to only one place.

Harley, I'm not willing to subject myself to one of our projects.- Your tone was dead serious- I understand that the factory right now is the closest thing on earth to hell but I'm not willing to play apart on my projects game

No.- Voice dry, he responded- You don't seem to grasp what the factory is now.- He looked at you.

You weren't there to see it like he did. What the prototype did on the hour of joy, how he seemed to have it already planed. The speed he had to take control of everything

Again, he wasn't scared of his own survival and control within the factory. He was the only thing 1006 had, therefore, he wouldn't be discarded and if you could just listen to him, you wouldn't either.

The prototype is searching for Poppy. Right now I don't know why, not yet.- He said with that calculated tone of voice he always carried- I cannot get to wherever she is, wherever Ludwig hide her, he make sure to make her unfindable.

But you can- Both of his hands on your shoulders now.- Understand your position in this factory, you are the only human here, pure flesh and bones. You are vulnerable. Don't be prideful, it will get you killed.- He said severely and with harshness in his voice.

You took his hands away from you and started to stand up- No Harley, I have no interest in finding Poppy and neither in letting the Prototype dictate if I die or not. -You quickly changed topic trying to avoid talking about 1006-You have control over the systems of the factory don't you, maybe you might be able to get me high enough to search for a wrap pack... And you have an Omni hand as far as I'm aware. You should have executive privileges- You started standing up, with Harley making some resistance.

You started walking as if you were in your house and went to the room with all of the monitors, Harley closely following you.

You started touching some buttons and all of the factory became on sight for you through the cameras. You stayed observant of everything. Analysing every room, watching the changes made by the months of chaos.

At some point, Harley restricted you with another one of his bodies while the main one looked at you.

-You've always been stubborn but the circumstances are not on your favour and since you refuse to listen then I cannot let you go.- His metallic hand grabbing your chin so you would look at him.- Don't fight it. It will make it worse.

Harley knew that, when very deep in though, you would just not listen or not pay attention to your surroundings, so he made sure your attention was on him.

Harley, what are you doing?- Your voice was steady and neutral- I sense anger in your voice. Believe me, this was my last resort.- His hand left your face, he though he heard something from you but the moment he gave his back to you, he heard the sound of metal hitting the floor.

One of The Doctors robotic bodies, the one holding you to be precise, had dropped to the floor after you unplugged a certain wire that connected to his body. You supposed that was the one that permitted the hive mind effect.

He quickly looked at you again. You were running toward the exit door. He could easily outrun you, but now you knew how to unplug him from his body.

However he ignored that fact and went for you either way. His screen glitching and all of the nearby monitors turning on while you were passing running against them.

Now he could understood what you were whispering a few seconds ago "Mine as well". The same way his first option wasn't to restrict you; your first option wasn't to escape.

You knew you were in a huge disadvantage but just thinking about living with the constant paranoia of your live depending on the Prototype made you feel nauseous.

You knew his potential, that's what a very deep part of you feared him just as much as admired him. But after all, you should look out for yourself even if that means going against Harley.

You still don't know how you managed to get out of the land of none and get back to the main corridors that led to the construction area.

That was a safe place, at least save from Sawyer.

Your first option was not available but your second best was still there. The safe haven seemed like a resemblance of normalcy in this hellhole.

Doey looked relieved upon your return, and he locked even more glad when you said you where staying. You didn't specify the reasons why but at leat you had a generator completely independent from the main system and therefore, from Harley.

You were... a little hurt from your re-encounter with Harley... Just a little...

You didn't expected him to give control so easily, again, he could still have way more control than others could but being at mercy of others wasn't really your style and you weren't willing to go through that.

You spent so much time searching for him. And for what? For a half ass conversation without any closure. You didn't need any feelings that could make you dependent on Harley. You shouldn't let yourself get carried away only because you have feelings for someone...

Therefore, you just toned it down. You will do as you always do with every feeling that gets more complicated than curiosity, you will ignore it and then bury it.

You were able to ignore your fascination for the prototype because, rationally ,he was dangerous; you could ignore your affection for Doey or mommy because you still were curious to see where the limits where. So you should be able to bury your feelings for Harley because it puts in danger your life and your autonomy.

Harley was not much happy either. He wanted you back, he just needed you to see reason. Eventually you will encounter a big danger such as Catnap or someone big and you will understand that you can't do this alone.

You will realise sooner or later, but in the meantime he would keep a close eye on you and, if the opportunity ever arises, he will just accelerate the process and take you himself to his area.

He could still feel your touch on his wires. His body long gone was substituted by this machine. Though he couldn't eat, he could feel. A very weak stimulation but it was the nearest thing he had that resembled the reaction to touch.

It was a matter of time, its not like you will last long. No wrap pack, no weapons thousands of resentful creatures inpatient to eat you...

You will come back. You must.

When the prototype asked him where you were, he answered that there has been a problem but this they only needed time.

1006 was not happy. Even thought there was an argument Harley, always the calm doctor knew his experiments so he was able to deal with the prototype effortlessly.

His germ could not hide forever, it was not in your nature. Germs evolve, the expand and sooner or later, a doctor finds it and neutralises it.

He just needs to wait until you expand to catch you. You wont be still for long. You never are.

The doctor can only hope that you won't be late to your appointment

-unedited fic-

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

It's Day Fifteen, so it's the Babysitting prompt. I debated having them babysit Jee-Yun or Denny and Mara, but I miss Christopher and they probably do, too. In this universe, Eddie's move to El Paso was temporary and ended sometime in the late summer so Christopher could be back in LA for his next year of school. This is also on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

They’ve got Christopher for the afternoon, because Eddie has an appointment and then a couple of errands to run. He’d mentioned his schedule the day before while Buck and Tommy had been dropping a lasagna off for them, asking Christopher if he was okay following him around for a bit, and Tommy had said:

“You know, you could always drop him off with us.”

And Eddie, who'd been spending every free moment possible with his kid and working on a lot of stuff, had been almost hesitant to say yes. Then Christopher had readily agreed, because he hadn't been hung out with them in forever. Buck had turned pleading eyes on Eddie until his best friend agreed.

“Guess I should stop hogging you, kid.”

So Buck is thrilled to have Christopher over. He hasn’t had much hangout time since they came back from El Paso, but he’s also excited to show off his and Tommy’s place to one of his favorite people. Christopher has already seen it when it was just Tommy’s. He hasn’t seen it when it was theirs, though.

Christopher, being a teenager, doesn’t completely appreciate the significance of this, but he does say it’s really “cool” that they’re living together and that he likes the new couch. Buck gives Tommy a smug look over Christopher’ head, and his boyfriend makes a face at him. As far as he’s concerned, it’s the final nail in the “Buck was right in the furniture store” argument.

“You said you brought your Switch, right?” Buck asks, and Christopher nods. “Well, Tommy can hook that up while I grab us some snacks.”

“I can do it,” Christopher offers, taking a few cables from his bag.

“Nah, I got it,” Tommy says, taking everything as Christopher gets it out. “Hon, can you grab me some ice tea?”

Buck smiles and watches fondly as Christopher piles cables and plastic into Tommy's arms. “Yeah. What about you, kid?”

“Just water,” Christopher says, shrugging and smiling. “Thanks.”

He ruffles Christopher’ hair and goes into the kitchen. He’s probably going a little overboard on the tray of snacks he brings out, but he wants Christopher to be happy. He’s missed the kid like a limb, and he plops next to him on the couch and wishes Christopher wasn’t kind of too cool for cuddling now. He still gave Buck a really long hug when he arrived, but Christopher is a teenager. Teenagers don’t do couch cuddle time, though he does tip his head over onto Buck’s shoulder when Buck curls an arm around his head to kiss his hair.

“Thank you,” Christopher says, immediately going for the potato chips once Buck releases him.

Tommy reaches for his ice tea before sitting on Buck’s other side. “Thanks. Alright, we’re hooked up, kid.”

They play through a cup in Mario Kart, and Christopher beats the shit out of both of them. Buck lingers between third and sixth place the whole time, and Tommy’s only marginally better.

“I feel like this is not made for grown hands,” Tommy says, turning the Joy-Con over in his hands and giving it a dubious look.

“I have other ones, but they’ve got wires,” Christopher offers, diving into his backpack.

Tommy’s eyes light up, and he takes them when Christopher pulls out a tangle of wires with two controllers attached. “Way better. Just a sec.”

He hops up and fiddles with the Switch until he has the controllers plugged in. Christopher keeps using the small wireless controller that’s more comfortable for his hands. Buck and Tommy end up pulling their blanket chest and ottoman closer to the TV so the controller cables can reach.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Buck says eagerly.

He does a little better, Tommy does a lot better. Suspiciously a lot better.

“We had a GameCube on base,” he explains when Buck shoots him a look of betrayal. Tommy’s older, he’s supposed to be worse with technology. “What else do you have on here, kid?”

Buck knows he shouldn’t trust the nonchalant suggestion of Super Smash Bros, and Christopher doesn’t know any better yet. He doesn’t know that Tommy Kinard is a sneaky liar, but Buck has been learning things. Like his boyfriend pretended he'd never made focaccia before so Buck could show him how, and then he'd produced a professional grade loaf on his first try.

“You were really excited. But I really don't know how to make apple pie, I swear.”

He hadn't, it was a disaster until Buck intervened.

It takes a few minutes of Tommy doing seemingly random things on the sides of the stages while Buck tries in vain to go after Christopher, and then he makes a noise of understanding and absolutely destroys them for the next three matches.

“How?” Christopher demands.

“We did a couple tournaments while we were deployed,” Tommy says with an innocent shrug.

“Uh-huh, and who won those?” Buck asks suspiciously.

“Can’t remember,” Tommy lies, grinning.

“You hustled us,” Christopher says, but he looks delighted instead of pissed. He's doubtlessly adding this to the long list of things that makes Tommy cool, which Buck is proud of these days instead of jealous. “Can you beat the CPU on the highest level?”

“I have no idea,” Tommy says, reaching back to grab a carrot stick. “Let’s see.”

What follows is unreal, according to Christopher. They watch Tommy fight a computer controlled character at each difficulty level, and he manages to get through almost all of them. The last one, though, is apparently almost impossible.

“The reaction time on that thing’s literally not physically possible,” Tommy explains as he makes Fox McCloud do something with a shield that Buck can’t follow. When he gets taken out a moment later by the CPU, he sighs and sits back. “Yeah, nope. There’s no way.”

“Let me look up exploits,” Christopher says, poking at his phone.

“Wait, yeah,” Tommy says, twisting around. “Good call, kid.”

Buck settles back and snacks while Tommy and Christopher try to figure out how to exploit an AI-driven computer character, fail several times, and finally Tommy beats one. He jumps to his feet, fists in the air, and comes around the coffee table to shake Christopher’ shoulders (gently) while they roar in each other’s faces like animals.

He loves them both, but they’re two of the biggest nerds he’s ever met.

“That was so cool!” Christopher shouts as Tommy takes a few victory gulps of his tea.

“It was,” Buck agrees, because it had been incredibly entertaining to watch.

“Aw, babe,” Tommy says, kissing the top of his head. “Thanks for putting up with us.”

“Do you wanna play something else?” Christopher asks, and Buck and Tommy exchange a look. “What?”

“How do you feel about go karts?” Tommy asks, grinning. “Not Nintendo ones.”

Christopher looks between them, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. “Wait, for real?”

They pile into Buck’s Jeep, and Christopher hums happily from the backseat when they pull away from the house.

“I missed this car,” he says, and Buck’s heart warms.

“It probably missed you,” he says, glancing in the rear view mirror at Christopher’ smiling face. “I think pretty much everything in LA missed you, kid.”

Christopher rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but Buck doesn’t miss the smile that���s still on his face. Tommy’s hand covers his and squeezes, and Buck lifts it to his lips to kiss it and presses his cheek to the back of Tommy’s hand.

When he gets them safely to the go karting place, Tommy splits off from them to use the bathroom, and Buck hugs Christopher against his side while they scope out the track.

“I missed you, too,” Christopher says, and Buck bends down to kiss his hair. “Even though you and Tommy are all gross still. Dad said you’d mellow out by now, but I said you’d probably be like this even after you get married.”

Buck lets out a strangled laugh at that. “Married? Who said we’re getting married?”

Christopher looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “You guys are totally getting married one day. You’re, like, soulmates.”

He looks around to make sure Tommy isn’t sneaking up on them before leaning in and admitting: “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we are. Which also means that I get to ask you before I ask anyone else to be one of my groomsmen.”

He gets a considering look that makes Christopher look way too much like his father. “Do I get to go to the bachelor party?”

Buck barks out a laugh. “Not a chance, kid.”

Christopher groans. “Can you guys wait until I’m 18, then?”

“Dude, I’m not delaying my wedding so you can go to a bachelor party.” He squeezes Christopher’ shoulder and laughs when the kid sighs loudly and dramatically. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Promise,” Christopher says, raising his pinky. Buck’s breath catches, and he carefully hooks his pinky around Christopher’. “Can I bring a date?”

Buck’s laughing when Tommy comes up on his other side and asks if they’re ready to race.

“I call Christopher,” Tommy says quickly, and Buck lets out a squawk of outrage. “You snooze, you lose, Buckley.”

On the track, he catches sight of Tommy and Christopher more than once and can hear their shouts of joy even over the noise of the engines. He can’t even be mad when they beat him.

“What do I win?” Tommy asks, bouncing once on his toes. He's adorable, Buck wants to squeeze the life out of him.

“I can still hear you,” Christopher reminds them from where he’s texting Eddie. “Before you answer that.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with your dad,” Buck mutters, but he gives Tommy a kiss. “There. But also, there’s no way you’re winning the next one, because Christopher is coming with me.”

He still loses, because Tommy’s Mario Kart skills apparently translate well to real karts.

“Okay, now what do I win?” Tommy asks smugly.

“A high-five,” Christopher says flatly, raising his hand.

Tommy slaps it. “I’ll take it. You guys want to go around the corner? There’s a good wing spot.”

“Hell yeah,” Buck says, looping an arm around his waist.

As they walk outside and around the corner, Buck leans over and kisses his cheek.

“I’ll give you your prize later,” he promises in a low voice so Christopher can’t hear from where he’s a couple paces ahead of them.

“Yeah?” Tommy murmurs back. “Wanna give me a hint?”

“Dude,” Christopher says.

“There’s no way you heard that!” Buck protests.

“I didn't need to.” He stops so they can catch up with him and shakes his head. “You guys are like the kids at school who make out between classes.”

Tommy scoffs. “I think we have a little more self-control than—”

“Don't lie around the kid, Tommy,” Buck says with a sigh, looping an arm around his boyfriend's waist and letting the other one fall across Christopher’ shoulders. “We’re supposed to set a good example.”

Tommy slips away to go a few steps ahead to get the door to the wing place. “Are we? Because I thought we were about to have a wing eating contest.”

“Yeah, good examples of how to dominate at wing eating contests.” Buck presses a quick kiss to his lips as he passes.

They grab a table as Tommy and Christopher negotiate the terms of the contest, and Buck sends a text to Eddie to let him know that they're feeding Christopher along with a photo of the three of them before Christopher heads into the bathroom.

“I think we're about to win as best babysitters,” Tommy decides, stretching his arms over his head. “I can feel it in my bones.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. “Like that was ever a question. We're definitely the best. Right?”

“We gotta be.”

When Christopher gets back from the bathroom, he looks between them like they’re crazy when they ask him.

“Yeah, duh,” he says, and Buck fistbumps his boyfriend. “Aren't you guys too old to care about stuff like that?”

“Yeah, totally,” Tommy lies.

“Yep,” Buck agrees, also lying through his teeth. “Way too old.”

[anthurak]

Here’s something that might be a bit of a hot take:

I think Summer is inadvertently responsible for basically the ENTIRE current/‘modern’ plot of RWBY.

As in, Summer’s whole super-secret-sapphic-suicide mission with Raven wasn’t just the defining and inciting incident of Ruby’s and Yang’s whole character arcs. She also unwittingly kicked off all of SALEM’s current plotting and scheming.

I think basically EVERYTHING we’ve been seeing Salem do over the course of the show, from creating Grimm Hybrids to using Cinder to steal the maiden powers to even recruiting ALL of her current followers to her current plots to destabilize the kingdoms, ALL STARTED with whatever happened when she met Summer.

For one, I think it’s pretty apparent that Salem ‘learning she could do something new…’ as Ruby put it, didn’t just lead to her Grimm Hybrid program, but ALSO the ‘Grimm-Implants’ that have allowed Cinder to steal the maiden powers. Thereby giving Salem a far more direct way of getting to the Vaults and acquiring the Relics.

And that’s not even going into what ELSE Salem might have learned from her encounter with Summer and Raven. Say for example, things about the Silver Eyes that nobody else has realized…

I think 15+ years before the show started, Salem probably didn’t have ANY schemes or plots in mind and may have even been close to giving up on whatever her true goals actually are*. But then SUMMER not only inadvertently emboldened Salem, she gave her KNOWLEDGE that provided Salem the proverbial missing piece(s) she needed to finally accomplish her goals.

In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if we find out that, through Salem, Summer’s actions butterflied out to affect/inform pretty much ALL the major events that have shaped the present day of RWBY. Shaping not just Ruby’s and Yang’s lives, but maybe even Weiss’s and Blake’s too. Like perhaps Salem’s machinations as part of her new schemes are what led to the death(s) of Ironwood’s predecessors and lead to him being installed as headmaster, general and the unexpected new member of the Ozluminati, greatly altering the future of Atlas. Or maybe Salem’s recruiting of Leonardo informed waves of anti-Faunus actions in Anima via deliberate mismanagement/non-action from Leo, which in turn lead to the further radicalization of the White Fang?

Basically, given just how central she is to the stories of two of our main characters, and RWBY’s theme of decrying ‘heroic sacrifices’ and the implications that Summer’s mission is going to end up being framed as a huge MISTAKE on her part, I think it would be rather appropriate if Summer also unwittingly kicked off the ENTIRE modern plot of RWBY.**

Also you may note that I’ve been stressing that Summer unintentionally did all of this, because as I’ve stated elsewhere I think the idea that Summer might have willingly joined Salem just doesn’t work with everything we’ve learned so far. Particularly with Summer being the ‘patient zero’ of Salem’s Grimm Hybrid Program.

*Considering that Oz’s GUESS about her goal being a suicidal-cosmic-temper-tantrum is such an OBVIOUS red-herring at this point that it is baffling how some people still think it’s actually legit

**Also it would make a very fun twist considering how so much of the fandom seems to think that Oz is somehow at the center of everything.

[essycogany]

Why Shadow And Cream SHOULD Be A Duo

These are mostly Headcanons. They rarely interact, so I’m here to cover all of the things.

My first reason is they'd have the BEST DYNAMIC. Shadow is the mentor and Cream is his student. I know some people like the idea of him influencing her to be more violent, (which can be fun) but I prefer the idea of Cream solving problems in her own way whenever she's on a mission with Shadow. All of the crazy atrocities happening around her doesn't faze her in the slightest. She can be a tough cookie, but still soft on the inside and out. She doesn’t have to change her sweet spirit to be powerful in her own right.

Second reason. They would complement each other in the best way. Shadow could use someone to protect and I know Amy’s a good option, but there’s something about Cream that works better in my opinion. She’s younger, less experienced, brave, encouraging, kind, and ADORABLE. No, she isn’t and shouldn’t be a Maria replacement. I don’t want any character to have a good dynamic with Shadow just because said character reminds him of Maria. BUT Cream does have similar traits to her. More than Amy to an extent. The pink hedgehog is much more aggressive. Shadow would have a unique dynamic with Cream. Why? Because Cream is a literal child he needs to protect her at all costs. But she’s too stubborn to care about her safety. The older Cream gets, the more determined she is to go on adventures with him.

Because she’s so persistent, Shadow would feel obligated to teach Cream Chaos Emerald abilities. She would do terribly at first, but once she finally concentrates and takes her training seriously, she’d ace it.

The third reason I believe they’d be a great duo is because Cream would do her best to help him emotionally. But that’s not all. Shadow would notice how hard she’s trying and how much she struggles with failure. I’d imagine her taking it very badly due to a few issues in IDW and Sonic Dream team. Don’t get me started on the Metal Virus. She had to be the emotional support for Whisper (and the sweetheart did an amazing job) while she still struggled internally. Cream was the truest MVP during the Metal Virus.

But yeah! She’d definitely need someone with more experience with loss to help her with her self-esteem issues. Cream has so little confidence in herself when she shouldn’t. I know she has Sonic, Blaze, Amy, her mother, and many others but I believe Shadow would be the one to turn that emotion into action. He’s been through plenty. He wouldn’t just cheer her up (though he’d probably still try) but give her direct action base prof that she’s wrong with her training. She might not only need to be told she’s cable but also be physically shown.

I’d like to think she’d be able to pull as much weight for Shadow as he’d do for her. The tough love and support system. Like Sonic and Tails but with a Good Cop Bad Cop dynamic.

Cream still has Gemeral/Cheese and of course, they’ve already protected her the best way, but I’d like to think Shadow would be the one to teach her how to physically fight so she’d be able to help Gemeral. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about her too much. It’ll be like a training session. It helps that she’s already physically strong but Shadow would only help her enhance it.

She’d be an honorary member of Team Dark and would sneak into their missions. I’m not sure how Vanilla would feel about it but maybe this would be a situation where she’d find out when Cream’s older. Like a superhero reveal or something. Maybe Vanilla would have a long conversation with Shadow and Cream would stand up for him and take all of the blame. She’s loyal to a fault.

Their friendship also just sounds adorable to me. I can imagine Cream being surprisingly mature and intelligent and Shadow is always shocked. They'd talk about the different planets and stars together, daydreaming about a more peaceful world. Then instantly start kicking butt with Rouge and Omega and take down a giant monster and work with GUN. I think Rouge would question Shadow every time Cream came with them.

Rouge: Ugh! Shadow, why did you bring her here?! AGAIN?!

Shadow: I didn't. She came on her own.

Rouge: And you ALLOWED HER?!

Shadow: You can't say “no” to Cream. I've learned that the hard way.

It’s either letting Cream go with him or dealing with her whining for the rest of their picnic. Shadow isn't patient enough for that.

What kind of fun names would you guys give these two? Good Cop Bad Cop? Emerald Besties? Rebel Do-Gooders? Let’s give them a name!

That’s all the ideas I have for now. If you guys have any, I’d love to read them. My ask box is always open!

Stay Creative! 💜

[crowliphale]

ALRIGHT.... after roughly three days and one complete re-work, i think i can now proudly show off my silly sims creation...

Madrick Roslof's House

(disclaimer: i know it's shown to be a cutesie little cottage in the module but hush i have an overactive imagination)

I took some HEAVY, HEAVY inspiration from @sweet-reaper's fic What Lies Between Us (as in, it was supposed to be a recreation but i'm more than 100% sure i messed some things up) so go give it tons of love!!!

Tour below the cut!

The Outside (front & back)

I'll admit I'm not the greatest exterior decorator, but I'm still happy with how it came out! I was going for a building that wasn't constructed professionally, but rather by the people living in it. Personalized, asymmetrical, kinda like my grandparents house...

The Foyer/Livingroom

You'll notice right away that Roslof has an absolutely chaotic variety of furniture, and that's completely intentional! I wanted it to feel like this house has been lived in for decades, becoming more of a place to store all of Roslof's trinkets rather than an organized space. For sims reasons I gave him a TV, but if it were purely dnd-based that wouldn't be there lol. The dollhouse is there for Hootsie, who's a toddler in my game!

The Kitchen

Kremy's baby. He practically lives in this room. Despite it being Roslof's house and kitchen, I REALLY leaned into the fact that this is Kremy's space. It's a lot cleaner than some other parts of the house, and feels slightly more updated while keeping that awesome vintage vibe. Not a ton to say, it's probably the 2nd most accurate to my initial vision while reading reaper's fic.

The Dining Room

Not a ton to say here! I honestly didn't even intend on adding a dining room at first, but realized i had an empty room that served no purpose, so why not make it a dining room? I'm really happy with the eclectic collection of chairs, and I felt like a genius for putting one to the side after I replaced it with Hootsie's high chair

~ UPSTAIRS ~

The Guest Room (currently Kremy & Gideon's room)

The MOST accurate to my vision while reading reaper's fic, I think the only part I wish I could change is that the table in the back is meant to be a vanity table. I also would've added more clutter and the shrine to the Baron, but I kinda just don't have the space/CC for that </3 otherwise I love this room!!

Roslof's Room (formerly, now deceased)

This one's the most lackluster in my opinion, I really didn't have a clear picture of what his room looks like. It's also likely getting changed in the future as Hootsie grows up--Maybe I'll move Gideon and Kremy into here at some point... either way it isn't awful, I wouldn't mind spending my final days in here.

Guest Room 2 (Frost & Gricko & Hootsie's room)

I think this is where I strayed the most from reaper's story. Not totally sure how the arrangement is in the fic, i haven't reread it in a minute, but I know I typically make the three other guys all bunk together... but as you can see, this room is WAY too small for that. So instead it's just Frost & Gricko & Hootsie. Didn't put a ton of effort in, but that's mainly because I don't think Frost or Gricko have very many worldly possessions to their names.

~ BASEMENT ~

The Workshop (Gideon's baby)

I literally just DON'T have the CC to make this work that great, but I tried to still arrange things the same way they looked in my mind! Again not much to say, without the proper CC it kinda just became a filler room.

The Storage Closet (Torbek's room)

Poor Torbek... FJDSKFS I'm actually so sorry I put him down here partially as a joke and partially because I couldn't remember where he sleeps in the fic. and because I was pretty much entirely out of space anywhere else. Sorry big guy, I gave you a night light as consolation

~ THE GREENHOUSE ~

The Greenhouse (the greenhouse)

THE GREENHOUSE!! It's my absolute favorite part of the build it's just downright gorgeous, I tried so so hard to make it work despite not having the correct CC/DLC, and I'm super happy with how it came out!! Literally all I would add is some hanging planters from the banisters this thing is great.

and... that's the house! Hooray! Not sure how else to end a post like this, so here's the worst photo ever of how the guys look (+ toddler Hootsie)

I'll probably make another post like this but for the family's closeups/outfits/traits if I notice enough interest for it.. anyway tho hope you liked my silly sims build!! go read reaper's stuff its actually peak i'm so serious!!

[thewellofastarael]

The original website has shut down, so here's the original article, published September 10 2015:

"What happens when several thousand distinguished physicists, researchers, and students descend on the nation’s gambling capital for a conference? The answer is "a bad week for the casino"—but you'd never guess why.

The year was 1986, and the American Physical Society’s annual April meeting was slated to be held in San Diego. But when scheduling conflicts caused the hotel arrangements to fall through just a few months before, the conference's organizers were left scrambling to find an alternative destination that could accommodate the crowd—and ended up settling on Las Vegas's MGM grand.

It was an unmitigated disaster for the Grand. Financially, it was the worst week they’d ever had. After the conference was over, APS was politely asked never to return—not just by the MGM Grand, but by the entire city of Las Vegas.

Everyone knows that it's a near-impossibility to beat a casino's odds on a large scale. Lucky individuals' wins are always subsidized by the unlucky masses, and everyone's luck runs out eventually. So what happened? Maybe you’ve seen 21, and you’re picturing teams of sleek geeks using elaborate signaling systems and network analysis to gain a statistical edge over the house in blackjack. That’s been done in real life, but it wasn’t what happened at this meeting.

When I first heard this story (it's practically office folklore at APS), I immediately remembered a documentary I’d seen a while back, where some science-minded gamblers proved that a roulette wheel could reliably be beaten with a timer and a pocket computer…but guess again—they didn’t play roulette, either.

Some physicists have a knack for poker—the quick analytical thinking that lends itself to success in the classroom can translate well to a competitive card game: a Dutch theoretician took home a gold bracelet in the 2010 World Series of Poker. Did a group of the April '86 attendees somehow devise an optimized betting strategy, analyzing risks and payoffs, assigning weights, hedging their bets to come out in the black? Still no—or at least not en masse.

Instead, it turns out that the physicists found the one move guaranteed to provide an edge when the odds are stacked against you: You just don’t play.

See, usually when an organization announces that it's holding a big conference in a certain region, it triggers a bidding war among that area's hotels, and each tries to undersell the others and secure the group's contract to fill up as many rooms as possible. This goes double in a gambling destination like Las Vegas, where hotels have casinos built-in; the Grand doesn't just collect on room charges, it also gets a good portion of however much each guest was planning on taking to the tables. This is so central to the business model of casino hotels that they'll often give rates much lower than what a non-casino hotel could afford to offer, under the assumption that they'll recoup at the tables—it's the same reason you can often find free alcohol and startlingly nice food at all-you-can-eat casino buffets.

So were these physicists just too busy sharing their science, seeing presentations and posters, and catching up on homework to find time for the tables? That's one possibility. The fact that a significant portion of the attendees were broke graduate students probably didn't help matters. On top of that, all the attendees had to have known enough about probability and statistics to recognize the "Monte Carlo* fallacy" at work: When a roulette wheel comes up black ten times in a row, it doesn't make the ball any more or less likely to land in a red slot the next time.

Whatever the case may have been, the week of the '86 APS April meeting found the gaming floor almost completely empty, leaving the casino with its record-low take; in the (probably apocryphal) words of one casino waitress: "They each brought one shirt and a ten-dollar bill, and changed neither."

By staying at a gambling hotel but obstinately refusing to gamble, everyone who booked their reservation with the group effectively had their stay subsidized by guests who were lured in by the chances of a big win—which is probably why Las Vegas hotels never bid on APS conference contracts anymore. The MGM Grand learned a lesson the hard way that week: Physicists do not play dice."

—Stephen Skolnick

Fun fact: after the American Physical Society held their 1986 annual meeting at the MGM Grand, the entire city of Las Vegas politely asked APS to never, ever come back.

Was it because the physicists were super-smart MIT-blackjack-team forerunners who took the casino for everything it was worth? Actually, the complete opposite: they didn’t gamble. At all. After all, they knew their statistics. Most of them were broke grad students who had no intention of throwing away their stipends on fundamental misunderstandings of Poisson processes. As a result the casino gaming floor was dead. Sometimes the winning move really is not to play.

[reidology13]

drunk in love

Spencer Reid x fem!reader - Blind date gone wrong

cw: fluff, angst, first kiss, insecure Spencer, slightly implied age gap? (Spencer calls himself an 'old man'), drinking referenced, r doesn't like red wine, implied Alzheimer's fears wc: 2k a/n: posting this later than I had planned, but it's still Valentine's Day in some places!

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

How Penelope had convinced him to go on a double date with her and Luke for Valentine’s Day, Spencer was unsure. What he was sure of was that she had explicitly stated that he did not know the girl, a lie that became painfully apparent when you walked into the restaurant, waving at Penelope and Luke. The frown that twisted your face when you saw him made Spencer want to dig a hole to Hell and jump right in. Emotions that had to be somewhere between shock and disgust, he watched as you forced a small smile onto your face, walking over to the table. He watched as you glared at Penelope when you thought he couldn’t see, and fuck, he had never felt more embarrassed than he did in that moment.

When you reached the table, he sat frozen as Penelope stood to hug you, and as Luke engulfed you in his bear hug, your face relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Hello.” Eventually, Spencer thawed, just in time to stand up as you went to sit down, awkwardly half standing as you shook his hand. Somehow, you managed to look perfect, even with the uncomfortable expression on your face that he had caused.

“Hi, Spencer.” You let go of his hand as you sank the rest of the way into your chair. He observed the way you wouldn’t stop fidgeting, a clear sign of discomfort, and the way the hand he shook kept clenching and unclenching, as if you could still feel his skin. He could still feel yours, and although he found the feeling pleasant, he was sure that for you it was anything but.

“So, how are you?” He grasped for any semblance of conversation, tripping over his words in desperation to prevent silence from setting in.

“I’m okay, same as at work.” Spencer waited for a moment, expecting you to return the question, or give him some indication that he wouldn’t be interrupting you if he spoke. When you stayed silent, he decided to answer his own question, feeling guilty for trying to force a conversation you were clearly uncomfortable with.

“That’s, uh, that’s good. I’m also okay.” Well, he had been okay before you had walked into that room looking so angelic, laid eyes on him, and immediately shot Penelope a withering glare worse than any he had witnessed you use on an unsub.

Spencer wasn’t surprised when you stood up from the table barely five minutes after arriving, practically dragging Penelope with you. Hurt? Absolutely, but not surprised. Luke gave him a look that Spencer couldn’t quite decipher, but he figured it was pity and looked away, shame heating his face.

The rest of the dinner went much the same, awkward silence occasionally broken by somehow more awkward bursts of conversation that quickly dissolved into silence once again. About an hour in, you stood up abruptly, declaring that you were going to the bathroom and practically dragging Penelope along with you. Spencer turned to Luke and barely refrained from burying his face in his hands in an attempt to avoid the other man’s teasing. It didn’t work.

“Man, you have no game.” Luke laughed once you and Penelope were out of earshot, shoving Spencer’s shoulder lightly.

“You told me she was a stranger!”

“Penelope told you she was a stranger. And you still don’t have any game.”

“I’m not going to flirt with her when she’s clearly not interested.” Then he really did bury his head in his hands, an embarrassed whine breaking from his throat, “She probably thinks I set this up to get a date with her.” 

“You’re overthinking it, there’s no way she thinks that.” Spencer was about to rebut Luke when you and Penelope approached the table again, and although you still seemed upset with her, you smiled at Spencer as you sat down.

The rest of the dinner went marginally better, your general mood improved, and despite the lack of words shared, Spencer felt far more comfortable. Not that he didn’t still want to run for the hills, or really anything to just get out of there, but at least you didn’t seem angry anymore. Painfully uncomfortable, which when he thought about it was definitely worse, but not angry.

.*☆¸•

Of course, Penelope and Luke had insisted Spencer carpool with them to the restaurant, and he’d agreed, because public transport was notoriously bad in that part of town. It was a solution that promptly backfired when they decided to go back to Luke’s place to cap off their Valentine’s Day, leaving ‘you love birds,’ in Penelope’s words, on your own. 

Spencer tried to turn down your offer of a ride home, assuring you that he would just get a taxi, but you insisted, practically dragging him to your car. He couldn’t comprehend how you could be so nice to him when he’d just ruined your night. It was Valentine’s, surely you had been planning for a nice date with some funny, good looking guy that was on your level, definitely not Spencer. Not an awkward conversation about how the Romans celebrated the holiday by whipping women with animal skins to make them more fertile, which was just about the furthest from romantic anyone could get. Still, you offered him a ride, you really were just that perfect and kind, and he didn’t say no because he could never really say no to you.

It was about five minutes into the awkward silence of the drive when his mouth decided that enough was enough, and for some reason his vocal chords agreed with it.

“I’m really sorry about that, I promise I didn’t know it would be you. Not that I wouldn’t go on a date with you just I wouldn’t do it without asking because that would be rude and I’m just saying Penelope didn’t tell me or anything.” He swallowed, regretting the words even as he said them. It wasn’t the time for a conversation like that with you, ideally he would’ve stayed silent and hoped things would go back to normal by Monday.

“Oh. Yeah, me neither. That’s the point of a blind date, right?” He was almost glad you ignored the second half of his nervous ramble, although it meant he still had absolutely no idea where he sat with you.

“I just wanted you to know I’m not like some kind of creepy old man forcing you to go on a date with him or anything.”

“Wow, so first of all that would never happen.”

“Well actually about-”

“Not you.” You interrupted him, and it didn’t make him feel dismissed or discarded, and maybe that was what made you so ridiculously perfect, “You would never do that, it’s just not possible.”

“Realistically, predicting human behaviour is too unpredictable to label something impossible.” You were being nice, why couldn’t he just take the compliment, even if it was a bit odd? The whole conversation was odd, thanks to him, “But I understand what you’re trying to say. Thank you.” The addition was a little stilted, but it got his point across, and that would have to be good enough for now.

“Human behaviour is unpredictable, but I know you.” The car stopped, and Spencer realised you were parked outside of his apartment, and despite the fact that he’d spent the last two hours wanting to escape your presence, he found that he didn’t want to let you go.

“I’m still very sorry about tonight, I know it was probably the last thing you wanted from today, but…” He trailed off, unsure why he was even thinking about asking you for anything, why would you want to spend time with him? Before he could decide how to continue his sentence, or back out of saying anything at all, you spoke.

“No, it was nice. I like spending time with you. Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“I have a bottle of wine left over from Christmas, it’s too fancy to drink alone.” The words came out before he could think better of them, and although he didn’t voice it, the question still hung in the air between you.

“Red?” You asked, almost apprehensively, and Spencer wondered how you thought he could forget your distaste for the drink. He shook his head, and you were out of your car in a shockingly short period of time. Spencer’s brow furrowed in confusion. Sure you liked white wine, but not that much.

He followed you out of the car, holding out his arm for you, “I would never offer you red wine.”

“You know me so well.” You smiled up at him, hooking your arm through his.

Spencer grinned, the kind that lasted just a moment too long, and left his cheeks aching in a way that didn’t hurt at all because it was you, “I do.”

“Not impressive, by the way, you have an eidetic memory.” He rolled his eyes, leading you through the entrance of his apartment block.

“I don’t need an eidetic memory for you.” He glanced down at you, breaking the rule against inter-team profiling, an endeavour that proved to be fruitless. Avoiding eye contact and fidgeting, both behaviours that didn’t mean much on their own, and you seemed determined not to give him anything else.

You didn't respond, and Spencer almost resigned himself to not finding out the answers that you were hiding. But he was nothing if not a scientist, and over the last few minutes of conversation he had developed a hypothesis that he was determined to prove. He snapped out of his thoughts, realising that he had lagged behind, and jogged to remove the few paces between you.

“Slow down!” Spencer laughed, only catching up to you at the elevator, stepping in behind you. Almost immediately the cramped space felt like too much, his heart skipping a beat every time he saw you. You were right there, and despite the last twenty minutes he’d spend in your car, something about this was different, “I meant it.”

“Meant what?” The tilt of your head was a simple gesture, it wasn’t supposed to drive him crazy, but ‘supposed to’ didn’t stop his heart from fluttering at the sight.

He would have answered, but the elevator doors opened onto his floor, so he silently directed you out, a hand on the small of your back that remained as you walked down the hall. It remained as he took out his keys and unlocked the door. It remained as you walked into his home together.

“Meant what?” The reminder of the question wasn’t necessary, but he took it as he closed the door behind him.

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember every single conversation we’ve had, or when we share a hotel on a case and you wake up and you look so angelic I can barely breathe, or how your face lights up when you talk about something you love. I could never forget anything about you.” He hoped he couldn’t, hoped that he wouldn’t wake up one day without you in his head. Forgetting you would be like forgetting that the universe existed- it would be forgetting his universe existed. Watching every single star die out slowly—the sound of your laugh, the twinkle in your eye, the way light hit your hair, his name on your lips, your favourite drink—disappearing one by one into nothingness.

When you kissed him, he added another perfect star to that list of unforgettable details. His north star, because surely nothing could ever light up the night sky like the feeling of your lips on his.

He cupped your cheeks, holding you because if he let go you might disintegrate into a dust of fading memories. He didn’t let go when he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours and breathed in clearly for what felt like the first time in his life.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He didn’t let go when he heard those words from your mouth, leaning in for another kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet girl.” He didn’t let go.

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

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast - Comment to be added <3

[bunnyinvanilla]

fancy some old man company ceo!john price x young innocent little girl!personal assistant reader? (he’s in his late 40s and shes 21)

usually, ceos weren’t the ones in charge of hiring new employees, they left the boring job to their assistants or managers — but this morning, upon coming to his office, john price was met with the sight of a young, disoriented little girl, dolled up in heels and standing cluelessly like a lost little bunny in the main hall, curriculum file in hand, probably not having a clue where to go —

being the gentleman he was, as the boss, price welcomed you inside his office, telling you not to worry about the manager you were supposed to meet up with for the application, whom you had originally planned the appointment with…

“the file says you’re twenty one and fresh out of college,” his eyes briefly emerged from the paper he was holding with his thick, ringed fingers, slowly focusing on every inch of your sitting stance, taking you in with no hesitation nor costume mannerism, shamelessly staring, in a way that made you swallow nervously and nod politely, your hands neatly folded on your lap, right where the hem of your skirt hinted to your bare thighs.

”y-yes, sir, i-im actually looking for a job as a librarian, but i’ve been in need of financial assistance since graduating, so in the meantime i could really use a part time position.” you could feel every nervous beat of your heart vibrating through your chest as you spose, your cheeks like burning flames, bright and red as you barely manage to stay still on your seat, trembling like a shy bunny — how could you find yourself working for him if you can’t even meet his gaze? “this one would be my first job..”

price just hums, leaning back on his chair that crackles under his massive body, wrapped in a expensive tailored suit, bulk and buff muscles giving him an intimidating appearance — his thighs spread wide, legs parted.

you were a young, shy, pretty thing, sweet and polite, in the prime of her blooming youth and just eager to find her place into this world, to prove herself and make someone proud, earn their (his) praise. he had lot and lot of experience behind his back, even more years, and he was sure you would be the best, obedient good girl just by looking at you.

john price could be that someone, he was old enough to be your father, burly and exuded power and security, exactly what you needed — he could use a sweet, young personal secretary like you, all doe eyes and in need of praise and approval, make his exhausting job as the boss less stressful, you would get him lunch or coffee, print paperwork sheets for him, bring him new cigars, and even be his lap bunny, his trophy little girl, warming him up.

“you’re hired,” the words he muttered was so rough, gruff and low you had to blink twice, before opening your mouth and closing it right after.

“im sorry? oh- but— uhm, are you sure?” you feel a little dumbstruck by the rapidity of the interview, but you’re thankful nonetheless, “i thought I’d have to answer more questions..”

“we have a lot of work to do here and never enough employees, sweetheart, im sure your help will be..” he let his eyes trail down on your figure again, slower this time, his large hand coming to scratch his thick, dark and graying beard as he studied you “well appreciated and rewarded, little one”