#another time she was like ‘have you ever been to [local con]’

[nahoney22]

Congrats on the followers id yet again like to throw in another request please?

growing up I had difficult with reading or learning to read in general. I was wondering if you could come up with a slight angsty and fluffy fic of tech trying to teach reader (fem) to read? Maybe he’s not patient, makes a very tech-like comment that reader overhears that upsets her which sucks because she really likes tech? ❤️ thank u ☺️

🌊 Reading Between the Lines

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 6.1k

🫧 Plot: When Tech finds out you’re unable to read, he makes it his job to teach you. But after a comment to Echo, you think maybe he’s not the teacher for you.

🫧 Warnings: Safe for work, fluff and angst. Female reader, reader is unable to read. Tech makes accidental inconsiderate comments, comfort, play fighting, omega playing match maker, idiots in love trope, first kiss, reconciliation.

🫧: authors note: thank you @forbiddenwaves for this request and the kind words. Thanks for messaging me so we can work on this togther too. Enjoy 🤍

“Now, attempt the next word.”

You stared down at the datapad, the symbols swimming on the screen under the shadow of Tech’s tall frame. The sun beat down on your shoulders, and you bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to get this one wrong.

“Erm…”

“That is incorrect,” he stated before you could even finish.

Your brows furrowed. “I haven’t given you an answer yet,” you muttered, sharper than you intended. “It’s… con… cot…”

“Corellia,” Omega suddenly answered cheerfully from your other side as she bounds over.

You slumped with a groan, just as Tech gave a frustrated exhale.

“Omega,” he said, tone reproachful, “if you provide the answer, she will not learn.”

Omega winced, looking between the two of you with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry,” she said, eyes softening as they met yours.

“It’s alright,” you sighed in defeat. “I think I’m done for today. Besides, we’ve got to help the locals soon. That is why we’re on this rock after all.”

Tech folded his arms across his chest, expression unreadable behind his goggles. “We’ve scarcely covered anything of substance.”

“It’s been almost two hours,” you pointed out, rising from the crate you’d been sitting on, legs stiff. You turned to face him, half your features obscured by the harsh sunlight. “I need a break.”

He didn’t argue, but the way he took the datapad back from your hands with just a bit too much stiffness told you he wasn’t thrilled. “Very well. We’ll resume this evening.” Then, turning to Omega: “And I would appreciate no further interruptions.”

She nodded silently.

As Tech strode toward the ship’s gangplank, Omega reached for your hand, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. “Hey, you got the first two letters right. That’s progress!”

From halfway up the ramp, Tech’s voice floated back over his shoulder. “Technically, it is not. Especially considering we’ve made no discernible advancement in two full rotations. And the fact that we just returned from a mission on Corellia should have made that word obvious.”

Then he disappeared into the ship.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Not unless you wanted to cry out of embarrassment.

Tech didn’t mean to be cruel because that isn’t in his nature. But he didn’t realise how much weight his words carried and how easily they upset you.

Omega was still watching you, lips pressed into a tight, worried line. “You’ll get there,” she said gently. “It takes time, that’s all.”

You exhaled slowly, wiping the back of your neck, now sticky with sweat and heat. “Maybe. But right now… it’s not looking great.”

It had been Tech’s idea to take on the responsibility of teaching you like it was a personal mission ever since the squad had learned that reading Basic wasn’t just a struggle for you, but a near impossibility.

Though, Wrecker and Echo did tell you that they were impressed since it never hindered any mission and they never noticed it being an issue for you.

At first, you were excited. One being that you could finally be able to read a sentence clearly for once by being taught by a complete brain-whizz and two, getting to spend some one on one time with Tech. Because well… you liked him. A lot. You had welcomed the chance to be near him, maybe even impress him.

But now? Now you just felt like dead weight.

These lessons had been going on for a while now and every time you thought you were making progress, he corrected you. When you think you have gotten the hang of it, your hope is snapped like a thin wire. And even though his tone was rarely harsh, the impact landed just the same.

You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take before you self imploded.

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

When a few hours had passed and you were covered in dried mud, scraped hands and aching shoulders. Just a small testament to the day’s work. The mudslide had hit the outskirts of the local settlement hard. Homes had caved in, supplies were lost. You, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega had been on the ground all afternoon, helping wherever you could.

And for a little while, it had helped. Being useful. Doing something physical. Something that didn’t require datapads or deciphering Tech’s disappointment.

Wanting nothing more than to jump onto the Marauder to have a wash, as you climbed the Marauder’s gangplank with your limbs heavy and clothes still damp, the sound of your name halted you just short of the open doorway.

��She’s trying, Tech,” Echo said from inside, his voice low but firm. “I don’t think you realise how hard this is for her.”

“I am aware,” Tech replied curtly. “But effort without measurable progress doesn’t change the result. If she cannot fathom basic reading material after this long, I fail to see the point in continuing the same method.”

Echo exhaled, clearly trying to keep his patience.

There was a pause, and then Tech added:

“I don’t understand how someone who can’t read was cleared to be in this squad. It’s inefficient.”

You didn’t stay to hear more.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath sharp in your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed a datapad left near the hatch—someone’s, anyone’s—and turned sharply on your heel, boots pounding against the ramp as you vanished.

Inside the Marauder, Echo’s head turned toward the hatch, catching the blur of movement just as it disappeared.

He frowned. “Was that—?”

“Likely Omega,” Tech said without looking up from his datapad.

Echo didn’t answer. He stared at the doorway a moment longer with a small sliver of doubt.

Then he reached over and plucked the datapad from Tech’s hands.

“There’s nothing wrong with the material,” Tech started, instinctively straightening. “It’s relevant—”

Echo held the pad up and squinted at the screen. “You gave her an economics summary on Corellia’s supply line recovery?”

Tech blinked. “It’s context-based learning. The vocabulary is advanced but rooted in familiar scenarios. Planet names, trade metrics…”

Echo cut him off, reading aloud in a dry tone:

‘Blah, blah, blah… Corellia’s industrial sectors yielded a net increase of 17.3% in hyperlane freight throughput.’

He looked at Tech. “You do remember she’s a beginner, right?”

Tech’s jaw twitched. “Comprehension improves when one is challenged. It’s a proven learning model.”

Echo just stared at him, then gave a slow, knowing smile. “Right. You’re not making it harder so you get more time alone with her or anything.”

Tech shot him a glance. “That’s not what this is.”

“Mm-hmm.” Echo folded his arms. “Just a coincidence you give her material most cadets wouldn’t see until advanced training. And you happen to offer to teach it… one-on-one.”

Tech didn’t answer. Didn’t rise to the bait. But he also didn’t correct him.

You wandered until the forest opened up into a small clearing just outside the village, where a fallen tree had settled along the edge like a broken bench. The air was still, heavy with the scent of wet ground and crushed foliage. You dropped onto the moss-covered trunk, the datapad still clutched in your hand.

For a moment, you just stared at it—its dull, lifeless screen reflecting your muddied reflection back at you. You pressed the activation switch, but the interface was already unlocked. Swiping clumsily, you tried to navigate to something, anything. Maybe one of those Corellian reports Tech was so convinced would teach you context. But the layout made no sense.

Your thumb hovered. You tapped wrong. Backed out. Tried again.

Nothing worked.

And with every failure, that old, tight feeling started rising in your throat like a scream.

Calm down. It’s just a datapad. It’s fine.

But your hands were shaking now, the letters blurring into meaningless shapes.

You grit your teeth, jabbed the screen once more and when it brought up another menu you didn’t know, you let out a rough breath and flung the datapad down into the grass with a thud.

Slumping off the log, you slid to the ground and pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your forehead against them. You didn’t cry. Not really. But your eyes stung. Your chest ached. You were so tired of trying. So tired of hoping and for what? To be called inefficient?

Minutes passed. Then, from somewhere beyond the trees, you heard your name being called.

Your stomach twisted. You knew that voice.

You inhaled slowly through your nose, forcing down the storm of frustration that still bubbled beneath your ribs. You didn’t want to talk to him but you figured that avoiding him now would only make things worse.

“I’m over here, Tech,” you called out, keeping your voice level.

He appeared between the trees moments later, his eyes scanned the clearing until they landed on you, standing now beside the log.

“You wandered off,” he observed plainly. “Omega was not certain where you’d gone.”

“I needed some air,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

He took a step closer. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

Your gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m… I don’t want to do another one today.”

Tech blinked, thumb pressing beneath his chin in that thoughtful way he always did when evaluating something... or someone. “Lack of practice results in insufficient performance.”

“Yeah, I get it.” You rubbed your arm, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not in the mood to do anything else today. I’m… tired.”

He studied you, his brow furrowing faintly. “I suppose that is reasonable. You were engaged in extensive manual labor for most of the day. Very well. We will resume tomorrow.”

He turned to go but you spoke up, “I don’t want to do it tomorrow either.”

He paused mid-step, looking over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “And why are you putting off your studies?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You wanted to tell him. Wanted to throw his words back at him, cut him open like he’d done to you without even knowing. But what was the point?

“I just need a break,” you said instead, keeping your voice even as you play with your fingers.

“We have plenty of free time to continue—”

“I said I wanted a break, Tech,” you snapped, your arms folding tightly across your chest. Your shoulders stiffened as every nerve seemed to buzz.

He blinked again, head tilting slightly. “Your tone suggests there is something else bothering you.”

You looked away, lips tight. “Or someone,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“I’m going for a wash,” you said instead, ducking down and snatching up the datapad you’d discarded. You moved to step over the fallen log and held it out to him without looking.

He took it from your hand, confusion still etched into his features. “Were you just using this?”

You let out a tired sigh. “Tried to.”

The next morning passed slowly, the heat thick and relentless even in the early hours. Yourself and the others helped out in the village again —carrying supplies, sorting debris, fetching water—but your heart wasn’t in it today. Your hands worked on muscle memory whilst your mind is elsewhere.

You’d been quiet. Too quiet, apparently because Omega had noticed.

You were sitting beneath a large tree at the edge of the village, the sun flickering through its canopy, offering shade as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. You were tracing random patterns into the dust with the toe of your boot when Omega plopped down beside you.

She offered a bright smile, hugging her knees to her chest. “Feels nice to be helping people, huh?”

You nodded in reply, smiling faintly. “Yeah.”

She watched you for a moment, rocking slightly as she stared out at the village. “You seem kinda quiet today.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just tired.”

Omega leaned her shoulder into yours, playfully and soft. “You didn’t even complain when Wrecker gave you that heavy crate. That’s how I really knew something was up.”

That got a small chuckle out of you.

She tilted her head. “You and Tech didn’t do your lesson this morning.”

You grimaced before you could stop yourself. “I don’t want to do them anymore.”

Her brows knitted. “Why not? You were doing good yesterday. You almost had Corellia right!”

You stared down at your hands, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. “I just… I don’t think I can learn from him.”

Omega blinked, surprised. “Did you tell him that?”

You gave a little shrug, not looking at her. “Not really.”

She fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then, in a hopeful voice, she offered, “Maybe I could help?”

You looked up at her, surprised. “You?”

She nodded eagerly. “Why not? You already got the first letters down before I ruined it yesterday.” She says, “And I bet I could make it more fun than Tech.”

You hesitated at first but truthfully, it was the first time since yesterday you didn’t feel like a complete failure. Omega’s eyes were wide with hope and something that felt a lot like belief.

You smiled, a little uncertain, but it reached your eyes. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

“Great! Stay here!” She shot to her feet before you could ask what she needed.

You expected her to run into the Marauder for a datapad but instead, she ducked underneath the ship’s hull and rummaged around in the loose red soil.

A moment later, she returned triumphantly holding a thick, crooked stick like it was a prized trophy.

“No screens today,” she grinned, “just dirt!”

She crouched low beside you, and with one sweep of her hand, cleared a wide patch of dust between you. Then, with careful, deliberate strokes, she began to write out the alphabet.

“You ready?” she asked, smiling up at you.

You nodded and leaned in beside her, cross-legged.

“Okay. Repeat after me.” She tapped each letter as she said it aloud, slow and clear:

“A… B… C…”

You followed, stumbling a few times, but she didn’t mind. She would just start the whole thing over, patient and gentle. You did it again. And again.

And again.

And again….

Then she covered some of the letters with her hand and pointed to a random one. “What’s this one?”

You hesitated. “Uh… F?”

She shook her head. “Try again.”

You frowned, staring at the rest of the row, mentally replaying her voice in your head. “...G?”

“Yes!” She beamed. “Now this one?”

You pointed. “P?”

She giggled. “That’s a Q. Close though!”

With every repetition, you felt something shift. Like you were actually getting the hang of it.

You started getting more right. You hesitated less. By the time you went through the whole alphabet again, she sat back with a triumphant smile.

“Alright,” she grinned, handing you the stick. “Your turn.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I want you to write my name.”

You laughed nervously. “Omega?”

“Yup! Easy, right?”

“Uh… sure.” You crouched again, stick poised awkwardly in your hand. “Okay… O.”

“Perfect!”

“...M.”

She paused. “Hmm…”

You glanced up as she was pulling a face, lips squished to the side with one eyebrow raised. A funny way to say ‘try again’ without being harsh.

You looked back at the row of letters, furrowing your brow. “Wait… no. That’s N. This is M.”

You corrected yourself and carved it into the dirt.

“Nice!” she beamed. “Keep going!”

It took a few minutes, a few wrong turns, but eventually, you finished all five letters.

“O-M-E-G-A.”

She stared at the letters in the dirt, then at you with wide-eyed glee.

“You did it!”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Not forced. Not faked. Just real, honest pride.

“Yeah,” you whisper, sitting back. “Guess I did.”

Over the next few days, Tech noticed a pattern.

Every time he approached you about resuming your lessons, you deflected. A quick, polite excuse here. A firm “not today” there. Sometimes you didn’t even look at him when you said it.

At first, he chalked it up to fatigue. You’d been helping the villagers every day; moving debris, rebuilding homes, lifting spirits. But then he started noticing something else.

You were still learning. Just not with him.

From a distance, he saw you under the same wide tree where Omega first brought the stick and drew the letters in the dirt. She was sitting beside you, her arms moving in animated gestures as she pointed at something in the soil. You were watching her, laughing. Your smile was so bright it nearly startled him.

He tilted his head, hands folded behind his back as he watched the exchange from across the field. You used to smile during his lessons too. The first day, you’d grinned when you got your first word right.

He remembered it well.

In fact… he had the recording saved. Privately.

He’d downloaded the footage from his goggles later that night, under the guise of reviewing your reading pattern. But really, he’d wanted to see your smile again. The way your eyes lit up, the little wrinkle in your nose when you laughed.

But slowly, through each lesson, that smile faded. Replaced by hesitation. Then frustration. Then silence.

And now you were smiling again. Just not at him.

That afternoon, while you were away with Hunter and Echo, Tech approached Omega, who was fiddling with the stabiliser plate under the Marauder’s wing.

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

Omega blinked up at him, wiping a bit of grease from her cheek. “Sure!”

He adjusted his goggles. “It’s about her… reading progress. Has she been improving?”

Omega lit up. “Oh yeah! She’s doing so well. She even wrote my name in the dirt without help the other day!”

He nodded slowly, filing away the information. “I see. That is… impressive.”

Omega tilted her head then shrugged. “She said she might try reading a ration label next.”

Tech blinked. “Ration labels?”

“Yep! Said she wants to know what she’s eating before Wrecker makes her try it.” She giggled, then paused. “Why? You don’t think she can learn from me?”

“I did not say that,” he replied quickly, perhaps a bit too stiffly. “I merely did not know what… qualities you might offer that I lacked.”

Omega gave him a long look, then shrugged. “I guess I’m just more fun than you.”

Tech frowned. “Most likely.”

She smirked, but then the teasing faded, and she turned more serious. “She didn’t stop lessons with you because she doesn’t want to learn. She just… got upset.”

Tech’s brows drew together. “Upset? With me?”

Omega nodded, biting her lip. “She told me that she heard something. Well, she overheard you. You were on the ship talking to Echo about her.”

Tech’s mind reeled back. He’d said many things to Echo over the course of those conversations—some blunt, some logical, most private. “I did not say anything bad.”

Omega gave him a tight look. “You told me that she heard you say that it was ‘inefficient’ for her to be on the team because she couldn’t read.”

Tech opened his mouth, paused, then exhaled sharply.

“Ah,” he said at last. Perhaps that came out harsher than he intended.

He hadn’t yelled at you. He hadn’t scolded you. He never once implied you weren’t trying. But now, playing back through someone else’s voice, his words sounded callous.

Omega watched his face, seeing the moment it clicked.

“If it makes you feel better,” Omega started softly, “She doesn’t think you meant it, but it still hurt her. That’s why she’s been sad.”

Tech’s voice was quiet. “I see.”

Omega studied him for a beat. “You really didn’t mean it?”

He hesitated but only for a moment. “No,” he said sincerely. “I believe I was frustrated with myself. Not her. And the lesson was overly advanced. Echo pointed that out.”

Tech sighed through his nose, adjusting his gloves. “I believe I may have allowed my feelings to affect my judgment.”

Omega looks startled. “Your feelings?” She teased.

He looked away. “It is irrelevant.”

But Omega was already grinning. “You like her.”

He adjusted his goggles again, silent but not dismissive.

“I knew it.”

Tech rolled his eyes but then a thought clicked. “Did she inform you of anything else she heard? Possibly regarding my… feelings?”

Omega shook her head, “Nope, but maybe you should speak to her about that to her face.”

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

You sat by the old log again, your knees tucked up loosely and your fingers picking at a loose thread on your pants. The sun had started to shift, casting longer shadows across the clearing. Omega was supposed to meet you soon and today's lesson would be under the trees for a change of scenery. Actually she was the one who suggested it, thinking you might like some quiet after spending so much time helping the villagers.

A twig snapped in the distance, and you smiled softly. "Omega?" you called, turning your head toward the sound.

But when the figure stepped through the trees, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t Omega. It was Tech.

He moved towards you, eyes scanning the area until they landed on you. His expression was neutral and composed. Then, you swear that his gaze softened.

You scrambled to your feet, trying to act casual even as your stomach twisted. “Oh—uh, is Hunter looking for me? Do I need to head back to the village?”

Tech shook his head, stopping a few feet from you. “No. The situation there is under control. Echo and Wrecker are assisting, and Omega is occupied with another matter.”

You hesitated. “…So… you’re here instead of her?”

“Yes,” he said plainly. “I thought it appropriate that we talk, also.”

Your stomach sank a little, and you dropped your gaze to your boots, toeing the dirt. “I, um… I’m sorry I didn’t come and tell you I was dropping your lessons.”

“There is no need to apologise,” he replied, his voice measured but… gentler than you expected. “In retrospect, I recognise that my methods were poorly suited to your learning stage. I attempted to teach you material that was far too advanced, and for that, I take full responsibility.”

You looked up slowly, your throat a little tight. “I don’t think I’m ready now either,” you admitted, your voice low.

“That’s perfectly alright,” Tech said simply. “I did not come to resume formal instruction. I only wish to observe what Omega has already taught you.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. His shoulders weren’t tense, and there was no datapad in his hands. He looked reasonably patient which wasn’t what you had been used to.

You still hesitated. But then, he smiled and Maker, your knees almost crumbled beneath you. Curse him for being annoyingly adorable.

“S-sure,” you stammered eventually, barely managing a nod.

He stepped forward and sat beside the log without another word, resting his arms on his knees. You sat back down with him and instinctively held your hand out, ready to ask for the datapad, but Tech gently shook his head.

“Omega mentioned that using the ground has helped you more visually. I see no reason to change a method that has been working.”

You blinked at him, genuinely surprised. “You’re… being very lenient.”

“I’m being adaptable,” he corrected, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile again.

You couldn’t help but return a small one of your own. “Alright… what would you like me to do?”

Tech reached into one of his belt pouches and pulled out a long, clean stick—clearly chosen specifically for this.

“Please write out the basic alphabet for me,” he said, offering it to you.

You took it and then you turned toward the dirt, drew a steadying breath, before lowering the stick.

Crouched beside the alphabet you'd just drawn in the dirt, Tech had his hands loosely clasped together. He said nothing as you finished the last letter, and though a part of you itched for his input, he simply observed in silence.

You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

After a moment, he reached into one of his belt pouches again and carefully pulled out a folded stack of flimsi. “Omega prepared some simple quotes,” he explained. “Short phrases. Easier to process at this stage than full documents.”

He handed them over, and you took them carefully, the thin sheets a little crinkled at the edges from being carried around. You glanced down.

The first said: “Wrecker is loud.”

You gave a small huff through your nose.

The second: “Hunter smells like the forest.”

You smiled faintly. You could hear Omega’s voice in your head. As you read them out, slowly but surely, you see Tech nodding beside you with each word you get right.

The third said: “The moon is big.”

Tech, predictably, cleared his throat. “Technically, that is a misleading generalisation. There are thousands of celestial bodies classified as moons, and their size varies depending on the system. Some are smaller than a standard transport—”

You didn’t look up, but your smile widened all the same. You could practically feel the lecture coming.

You kept reading, fumbling only on a couple of the trickier words. The pace was slow, but steady. You were halfway through the last sheet when Tech said, quite suddenly:

“I’m impressed.”

You paused.

Your eyes stayed on the flimsi, but your expression changed. His voice had been gentle, even sincere—but for some reason… it didn’t land the way it used to. Not like before, when any praise from Tech would have lit you up inside.

You slowly lowered the flimsi. “You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Tech tilted his head slightly, brows drawing together. “I am not lying. I am genuinely impressed by how quickly you’ve picked up the basics. Your progress is tangible.”

But still, you didn’t look up. The compliment just didn’t feel real. Or maybe it felt too late.

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“It has come to my attention,” he begins carefully, “that you may have overheard a conversation I had with Echo… a few days ago.”

You went still. Your grip on the flimsi tightened slightly. It was not something you wanted to talk about but supposedly getting it out in the open was better than letting it tear you up inside. And judging by Tech’s quieter approach, it was tearing him up too.

You gave a single nod, still not meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to be inefficient to you.”

Tech didn’t respond right away.

Instead, you felt the flimsi gently slip from your hand. He set them then shifted, turning his body slightly more toward you.

You let out a slight exhale when you felt his hand brush against your wrist. Just a light, uncertain touch that was enough to draw your attention.

You turned toward him slowly, sitting up straighter.

“Your strength,” he utters quietly, “has never been in what you already know… but in how determined you are to learn. That’s something even I struggle with.”

You stared at him, lips parted slightly. Your cheeks prickled with heat at the unexpected praise. He didn’t sound like he was saying it just to fix things, he genuinely meant it. “And I am sorry for what you heard. I often say things without thinking of the possible repercussions.

“…Thank you,” you reply softly, voice barely louder than the breeze through the trees.

Tech’s hand withdrew from your wrist, but his gaze lingered, as if searching your expression for more unspoken feelings. After a moment, he cleared his throat gently and adjusted his posture.

“Would you like to resume your lessons with me?” he asked.

You looked at him, your heart still thudding a little too hard. But this time, the words came easily, bright with something lighter than before.

“Yes,” you say quickly, with more eagerness than you meant to let on. “I—I’d like that.”

A flicker of something passed over Tech’s face. Maybe relief. He reached beside him and picked up the remaining flimsis from the small stack, selecting a fresh one before handing it over to you.

“Then let us continue,” he said, voice returning to that familiar cadence you knew; firm, but encouraging.

You straightened up and took the flimsi with both hands, your eyes scanning the first line.

“Wrecker… eats… all… the rations.”

Tech gave a soft snort. “That one may be based on an actual occurrence.”

You smiled and read on. The next was simple too, and the one after that. Occasionally, you stumbled. When you did, Tech didn’t chide—he simply leaned in, pointing softly to the word with a gloved fingertip, his voice low and patient.

“Try this syllable first—yes, exactly. Now the next.”

You did your best to focus on the letters but it was difficult. When he leaned that close, all cognitive thinking was out of the window. His shoulder brushed yours now and then and you could smell the faint metallic tang of his gear, mixed with the sharp scent of oil and a tinge of light sweat. However there was something else entirely him. Every time he moved nearer, your stomach fluttered like a startled flock of birds.

You were just getting into a good rhythm when you picked up the next flimsi from the pile. you could tell even before you started reading that this one was Omega’s doing.

Still, you gave it your best shot.

“Tech… has… fe-…”

You frowned, squinting at the next letters.

“Fe-el… fe-lin… no—”

Your voice trailed off as Tech suddenly reached forward and plucked the flimsi right from your hands, holding it out of view with alarmingly fast reflexes.

“That one,” he said stiffly, “was a mistake. Omega must have included it by error.”

You blinked at him. “I was just starting to get it. I saw both our names.”

He faltered. “Yes, well. She must have been… testing your recognition skills.”

Your frown deepened as you leaned slightly, trying to peer around his shoulder. “What did it say? I recognised ‘Tech’ and my name. But not the rest.”

He looked mildly horrified, holding the flimsi higher as if you might leap up and grab it. “It was… structurally inconsistent.”

“…With what?”

“With the lesson plan.”

You raised an eyebrow, slowly. “So it didn’t not say something?”

Tech cleared his throat, looking up at the sky as though he might find a convenient distraction there. “We should return to the prior reading. I believe you were progressing well.”

Your lips twitched. Despite the warm burn in your cheeks and the racing questions spinning in your head, a flicker of amusement bloomed in your chest. Because Tech was very clearly flustered.

And for once, you weren’t the only one stumbling over your words.

“I believe we should return to the lesson,” Tech resumes, voice slightly higher than usual as a flush creeps up his neck.

You bit your tongue on a grin, letting him have the diversion. For now.

“Fine. But I’ve been struggling with something.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, “Yes?”

“It’s the ‘oo’ sounds,” you said, fiddling with the stick in your hand. “Like… how do I know if it’s pronounced like in ‘book’ or ‘moon’? They look the same to me.”

“Ah,” Tech said, pleased to be back in familiar territory. “That is a very common challenge, even for native speakers of Basic. It is primarily about memorisation, but there are contextual cues…”

He gestured as he spoke, one hand drawing invisible words in the air, the other occasionally flicking toward the dusty alphabet he'd helped you draw earlier. His brow creased adorably in concentration, and it was then that you realised you’d stopped listening to the explanation. Completely.

You were watching him . Watching the way he talked, how his whole body became animated with his words.

It hit you all at once. That same warm flutter you’d felt during your very first lesson with him. When it was just you, and him, and a thousand ways he accidentally made your heart beat faster.

“Tech,” you cut in suddenly, blinking yourself back to focus. “What did Omega write?”

His hand froze mid-gesture. Slowly, his eyes widened behind his goggles. “I… do not believe that is relevant to the lesson.”

Your eyes narrowed with a teasing smirk. “That wasn’t a no.”

He shuffled slightly, edging away as if he was guilty of something.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

You lunged.

He yelped in a surprised sort of way as you dove over his lap, trying to reach the hidden flimsi. “This is not going to help with your literacy!” he protested, trying to fend you off with one arm as he reached behind him with the other.

“Oh, I think it might,” you laughed breathlessly, dodging his elbow and scrambling after the paper. “Consider it a very interactive learning experience!”

“I must protest—!” he began, but you’d already tangled yourself half across him, your fingers grazing the edge of the flimsi just before—

He rolled.

One quick movement and your world flipped, quite literally. Your back presses into the warm ground as he pinned you there. Tech hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other knocking the flimsi just out of reach again.

You stilled.

He stilled.

Both of you froze in the silence that followed, hearts pounding. It wasn't from the mock wrestling, but from the fact that now Tech was so close. His goggles were slightly askew, and the wild fluster in his expression was undeniable.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first. Your hands were still tangled in the folds of his armour, his knee pressing into the dirt beside your hip, his weight above you holding you firmly in place.

“…This is also not helping with your literacy,” he said finally.

“I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he then speaks quietly, breath catching halfway through.

Your own voice was soft when you answered. “It’s okay. I’ve had two really good teachers.”

The wind picked up gently, brushing strands of hair across your face, and carrying with it the flimsis that had been scattered beside the log. You didn’t even notice them dancing away at first, neither of you willing to look anywhere else but at each other.

Your gaze broke from his however when a pale scrap fluttered to the ground just beside your hip, its scrawled ink catching your eye.

And you read it aloud before you could think twice.

“‘Tech has feelings… for…’” you read slowly, your breath catching, “f-for… y-you.”

Silence followed.

Tech didn’t speak.

Didn’t even correct your pronunciation.

Instead, his eyes dropped from yours, and you watched as the heat crept up his neck, blooming across his ears. He cleared his throat, the motion stiff and unconvincing. “That… appears to be the one Omega wrote.”

Your heart thudded. You didn’t know what to do at first or what to say. You had dreamed of hearing those words, but somehow reading them yourself felt like a different kind of victory.

Slowly, you reached for the hand he’d braced beside your head, your fingers brushing his. There was hesitation in your touch, and something in it made him glance up, brows drawn.

“I have feelings for you too,” you said softly, carried on a nervous breath.

He stared at you with those beautiful wide eyes, clearly stunned. “You… do?”

A warm laugh slipped out of you. “I do.”

And before you could say anything else, before you could even process the shift in his gaze, Tech slid an arm around your back and pulled you upright with unexpected, fluid strength.

You gasped as you landed squarely in his lap, eyes wide, your hands flying instinctively to his shoulders. “Tech!” you squeaked.

But his hands found your waist, firm but gentle, grounding you again.

He was impossibly close now. Goggles still a little wonky, breathing slightly elevated. “I believe,” he starts softly, “I no longer require you to read aloud whether I may kiss you.”

A grin tugged at your lips, heart hammering as your fingers brushed the curve of his cheek and then carefully fixing his goggles. “Well,” you murmured, barely more than a breath, “I don’t mind at all.”

The kiss met you halfway, tentative for a moment, then deepening with quiet certainty. His lips were soft, tasting of sunlight and stored-up longing, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck like you were something rare, fragile and cherished.

And as the trees whispered overhead and a forgotten scrap of flimsi fluttered past your boots, all thoughts of lessons, of hesitation, of past hurt all melted away.

The lesson was over.

But something else had only just begun

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez

[irisfixation]

it is generally understood within the adventuring community that some sort of contract should be preemptively made in order to protect oneself from an untimely death.

[original hypnosis fic, second-person narration from perspective of the subject. gender-neutral, little to no sexual content. please read accordingly, and enjoy.]

now, the act of seeking out such a contract, let alone the fact of its normalization, would have been taboo a few decades past. "we don't negotiate with pact-entities", the old elders crow; anti-demon and anti-fae rhetoric was accepted as the norm.

it only took looking at the rate of mortality, the expenditures of the local church, and getting over themselves to at last shake up the in-culture of heroics.

of course, that didn't mean they weren't diligent with their new protocols; information on prospective patrons was inscribed down in ledgers half phone book and half grimoire, noting the terms of agreement, the trustworthiness of pact-entity after pact-entity, any bargain a little too faustian struck through in red.

you'd watch your peers peer through the book, discussing the pros and cons of each. was an unlucky fate too much to pay? were compulsions too obstructive, did the bodily changes contrast too much with one's self-identity?

of course, they all ended up choosing sooner or another. better that than dying young and alone.

it was under this sort of necessity that you went to the house.

-------

it was closer to home than you expected, really - you anticipated some kind of ominous manor on the cliffs, or secluded cabin by the forest's edge, so the three minute walk from the town square came as a welcome surprise. its residence looked the same as any other lodging - you'd no doubt walked past it on your regular commutes countless times without batting an eye.

you knocked, and the door fell open, as if it had been awaiting your arrival; afternoon sunlight bouncing off the gossamer-thin threads adorning the hallway.

make yourself at home, she says. i'll be upstairs when you're ready to talk. you nod and ask if there's any consequences for eating any food or drink. i promise you this; all food i've set out here is yours to eat and drink without consequence comes the reply; perhaps a little verbose from anyone else, but necessary caveats for a pact-entity's trust. you oblige.

with throat wet and stomach sated, you ascend the stairs. the bedroom is small, humble even; you've seen more expensive homes by far from some of your more show-off rivals. more fit for a pauper than the-

"than Her Lady of Marionettes?"

yeah.

"i never cared all too much for the trappings of nobility. i'm satisfied simply living in peace here."

then why the contracts?

"it's mutually beneficial, no? i quench my thirst for control for a time, and you don't meet any horrible, lonely fates. it's no different from any other line of work."

more reasonable than any would-be evil queen you've ever met, let alone one considered an enemy to the hero's guild not so long ago.

"please. i never cared all too much for that arrangement."

she rolls in her bed to face you. despite her role, she looks little different from your sister or partner; eyes still closed, hands still set upon her crosses.

-------

you discuss business. she will string you up, she says; and then, if she were to find yourself in an otherwise fatal scenario, she will pull your body back, mend you, even clear your mind from any hostile entities trying to take it over.

what do each of you get out of this?

"i get to observe the world through your eyes. i get the joy of commanding a body beyond my own. you cede a small, negotiated amount of control, and in return you are freed from tragedy's grasp forevermore."

it sounded like a hell of a better deal than half of the faustian bargains you saw other contract-entities propose.

"if you'd like, we can provide a demonstration here and now. no permanent alterations, and you can back out any time you wish. is that amenable?"

it does indeed sound amenable.

-------

you're sitting by her side on the bed. she's set her crosses down in place of a needle she holds deftly between thumb and forefinger, pinched together like a bee ready to sting. "hold your left arm out, please? we'll begin now."

you do so, and she passes the needle through skin. you feel it travel up across the veins in your wrist, her other hand steadying you in place with the tenderness of lily-petals. your elbow twitches as it passes through; the nerves firing once in shock, but no more. up through bicep, then shoulder; and then out, a release in pressure from within as the needle finally leaves your insides, leaving a trail of silken fibres behind it.

she plucks the taut string left in its wake, and your arm twitches with it, pulled from within. "see? no pain at all."

next is the right arm, then the legs. she flutters around you like a sprite alighting upon forest blossoms, soft fingers and steel-precise nails moving you, adjusting your wrist or shoulders or rotation with studious diligence. the intimacy of being studied and guided like this is almost palpable.

"...and, done." she declares, finishing a line of thread across the shoulders and through the nape of the neck. "well, how is it? comfortable, right?"

"yes, miss", you are made to say; and then, immediately, recall the strings through your upper and lower lip alike, a third running through the seam in your tongue. right. you move your eyes to meet hers; she's smiling brightly, but it's more the naive smile of a child than the former evil queen's smirk you expected. the effect is equal amounts unsettling and genuinely cute.

"well, let's begin." she picks up her crosses again, and with one subtle rotation of a hand's balance, she guides you.

it's easy to follow through. your right arm raises with a poise and natural nature that shocks you, outstretched to one side. she returns her hand to neutral, and your arm falls back once again, more sudden and limp than you were expecting.

("excellent", she says.)

with that first test done, she guides you down the stairs. your eyes are still your own, so some reflexive part of you fidgets as your body glides down each flight of steps; you have no control over if you fall or not. she could throw you down the stairs now, and you'd be helpless; passenger in your own tumbling body.

but she doesn't. your hand remains firmly upon the balustrade, and your every footstep is delivered with care. by the time you reach the landing, your heart may be pounding, but you're just glad to have made it through.

("well done," crows her voice.)

the near-invisible threads all throughout your body continue to urge you forward - sometimes single strings tugging suddenly, but other times shifting in a steady unison, almost imperceptible from your body's natural movements save that no thought of your own guides it. you're in the kitchen, before too long - a rack of dried dishes shows that she, too, has been here recently. your fingers and palm grasp onto each bowl and glass, one by one, filing them away in procedure through the unfamiliar house.

with your body outside of your control, you'd think your mind would wander to idle thoughts; to the birdsong from beyond the window, perhaps, or to thoughts of how your companions are faring in their own attempts to find their own contracts. but all thoughts seem to be silenced by each consequent string's plucking, a resonance within yourself that numbs your brain under its force.

before you know it, the rack of dishes is clear, and you are ascending the stairs again. it's less scary going up, and she knows it; she takes each step faster now, with a fluidity of movement that your legs accept graciously. there is no joint pain, no hesitation - each step is placed with pinpoint precision, each movement following the next.

a puppet's dance, you think; then dismiss the idea just as quickly. you're just here to obtain insurance from danger, not to humor thoughts like that.

she's lying back down on the bed when you arrive - exposing her back to you, vulnerable. but her hands are still outstretched, each one holding those crosses linked to the many strings pulled taut across, within, and around you. "welcome back", she tells you. "i trust it wasn't too uncomfortable?"

"no," you say, "it was fine."

"i'm glad to hear it!" she says, turning to smile at you. "and you took to it so well, too! good doll."

there's something about meeting her eyes as she says those last two words that feels different from everything prior. something deeper, like the strings are mycelial network growing their own nerves to entangle around yours, setting them alight in a microcosm dance, your whole body twitching just subtly as you are affixed within her gaze, burning up from the inside out-

"oh, my apologies. old habits die hard it would seem."

she doesn't gesture you to sit next to her, but your body does so, so you can assume it was her will all the same. she turns to you and explains that the demonstration has concluded; that the act of forming a pact with her is something you can now think of on your own, that you can return to her any time you need and in fact she'll completely understand if she never sees you again. she snips off the strings, one by one, with a pair of ornate scissors - the ones within will dissolve organically, she notes, metabolized by your own body. nothing to worry about.

you're not worrying. you're not thinking much at all, in the aftermath of everything that's happened. but she is patient, and you have all the time you need to recover.

-------

she walks you to the door and waves you out with a flourish. you're reminded of how mundane the house is, and now you can see that same mundanity in the Lady's face; no different from any number of passers-by through the town square.

"safe travels~!" she says, and you walk out the door; your steps faltering just a little as you once more acclimate to control over your own body.

well, for a contract patron, that wasn't so bad. and she seems well-meaning enough. maybe you'll go back there sometime again, you think to yourself, and shrug as you make your way home.

[katharine1994-blog1]

Aaron Hotchner xBAUreader!

I Will Find You Part1

First time posting this kind of fanfic, super excited, would love feedback but please be kind haha! not totally sure of correct terminology so forgive for any mistakes.

Back story: You and Hotch have been very close/pining but nothing has ever happened despite all the team knowing and wanting you both together, when something goes wrong with a seemingly unconnected murder case and your stalker, Hotch is forced to confront his feelings about you and fight to keep you alive.

CW: age gap, pining, stalking, murder, kidnapping, physical abuse/assault, adult themes, sexual content. POV reader and POV Aaron Hotchner

The bullpen is eerily quiet, its a Friday 2am, the other agents have gone home or are out on field for other cases, your team is the only one in the office.

The team have been working tirelessly on a local murder case for a few days now and are no closer to catching this killer, 5 young women, all killed by asphyxiation, he's raped them before and again post mortem but leaving no physical evidence, then they are posed in the middle of the bed with a bouquet of dead flowers and dressed in a white dress, the rest of the scene is tidy and spotlessly clean, the local PD requested the BAU's support on Monday when they had the name of another missing girl, hoping she would be found alive, the press have started dubbing him the 'Black Groom' and started causing panic and chaos on the streets of DC, JJ has desperately tried to steer them away from using this name but to no avail, on Tuesday when the latest victim was discovered, Hotch, yourself and Morgan were first on the scene where you discovered a new detail, a new part of the signature.

The first periluminal profile built was he's a white male in his 20s to 40s, he's a sexual sadist and has a deep routed hatred of women in his life, possibly started with his mother but most likely a girlfriend or wife are the current stressor, perhaps a recent rejection or stressful situation where he feels a woman has emasculated him, despite his sadism he is methodical, calm even, keeps the girls for a few days before returning them home 'safely' tucked in bed or left in a motel room close by if there's too much police presence, none of the girls are linked, all single workaholic types with friends being the ones noticing them missing after a few days, usually these women keep to themselves so not hearing from them wasn't uncommon in most scenarios, no men in their lives not even online.

Garcia has combed through these girls lives and there's no link, all are on dating sites but with no common linked matches meaning he's likely stalking them for a few days, learning their habits and routes to and from work before taking them in a spree attack, he's using chloroform to subdue them, then he continues using this drug during the following 3 days likely to keep them subdued and too weak to fight back. But where is he holding them?

The only factor about the girls which was painfully obvious is that they all look just like you, no one had said it out loud which made it worse, you had been with Hotch when you saw the most recent victim and you'd become visibly distressed, Hotch tried to approach you but you had played it off as a bout of sickness, how could you tell him? The single perfect red rose left at the foot of the bed, the new signature, you see it in your minds eye, with the black satin ribbon tied round it, is it him?

You'd been working with the team for over a year now and grown close with them all, at first understandably they were weary of you but making some great calls on your first case and saving Morgan's life with an unsub along with a police officer in New York had really propelled you forward in their estimations, you noticed the most change in Hotch, at first he seemed to not like you very much, he seemed to pay particular attention to you, at first you thought he was being over bearing because you were younger, but as it continued you realised he was protecting you, he would stand with you when out in the field and would often put you in his team, he would help you with your bullet vest and would always check on you after a rough case, he even sometimes drove you home, you thought it was him being a great boss until Morgan pointed out it might be more, deep down you tried to stifle your feelings for him but you felt yourself leaning towards him while he spoke, reaching for his arm and being equally as protective of him, maybe he did feel the same, but nothing could happen, how could they? He is your boss for a start, your stern, tall, strong boss! he's had a kid, Jack was such a great kid and since Hayley's death 3 years ago Hotch had really taken time for them both, stopped taking on everyone else's work and allowed the team to help, all of you helping him finish reports on time, even Will and JJ making play dates even though Henry was far too small to really appreciate a bigger kid to play with yet you all spent time together outside and at work, its not surprising you feel this way. Everything screamed for you to stop liking this man, but you cant help how you feel, and even if he didn't feel the same way, what harm is it doing? apart from that one night, the memory is burned on your memory.

"Alright lets go over this again, the ME said the ligature marks were made on top of each other with fibres found deep under the skin like friction burns, these fibres are commonly found in satin scarfs or something similar, there's no way to pin point exactly from what or where, the unsub is likely choking them until they fall unconscious, the ME also suggested by the wound pattern he's raping them while they are unconscious" Hotch states stiffly rubbing the bridge of his nose "can we deduce anything with a geography profile Reid?"

"Not really, all these women live in different areas and are from different class backgrounds, so there's no safe zone he's choosing its very sporadic I cant work out whether he's working in or out of his comfort zone, I think he's choosing the girls rather than whether its easier or further from home. Their bodies at first seemed to never leave their own home with no evidence of a break in or struggle but the last people to see them said they were heading home they likely never made it, he's likely picked them on the way in a spree attack meaning ne knows their routes to and from home and picking the ideal spot, he will have a car or likely a van to go un-noticed. The latest victim we knew was missing which gave us an advantage slightly thinking he would bring her back home, but he's watching us too it seems, the motel was a few blocks away, he was in and out before anyone noticed she was there"

Reid says staring away from the map on the white board and turning to face the room, fiddling with the marker pen lid popping it on and off the pen, chewing his lip.

"Garcia, anything from the motel CCTV" Hotch didn't look up from his file as he spoke

"No sir nothing, the rooms were vacant with no security cameras on the grounds, seems like a cash on the door no questions asked kinda place, only ones I could find were located around the buildings and apart from supplier vans, cleaners, laundry services picking up, which I've checked there's nothing suspicious and all accounted for and have alibi's, its like he's a ghost" Garcia clicks the keys on the laptop in front of her joining the team in the main conference room as according to the current time frame, he has another girl and she's got less than 12 hours.

"Don't his actions scream remorseful to you guys? like he has to do this rather than wants to? he's not a rapist seeking dominance and to overpower his victims, not like your usual sadist, its the equivalent of turning their faces away during the act by having them being unconscious or asking how it was, his first kill could've been accidental, the scene seems more practice then perfect but caused him greater sexual release, leading him to want to do it again, to rein act the fantasy"

Emily interjects chewing the top of her pen leaning on her elbows on the table glancing down at the scene photos on the table.

Empty coffee cups and take-away containers scattered around the table, yours is untouched, you, Morgan and Hotch went to see the last victim on Tuesday and you've not been the same since, seemingly unfocused and jumpy, you've attempted to shake it off, he keeps them for 3-4 days, he's likely got a victim now but no ones been reported missing, he's 2 steps ahead and with this change in leaving the rose, his time line might of also changed, you sit staring into space chewing your nails anxiously

"Yet the Unsub is now killing them on purpose, you could argue it was an accident on the first victim but now he's got a taste for it, he's coming into his own sadism, he's likely a slim build, can't overpower women normally so the choking and drugging is a crutch, how he's leaving them yes you could say its an act of remorse, but what if its actually a taunt?"

Morgan points out to Emily, leaning back with his feet on the desk balancing on two chair legs

You shiver at the thought of it crossing your arms rubbing them as goosebumps appear all over, these girls suffered for hours before dying and he's only getting more confident, it makes the hair on your neck stand on end, but you've seen worse so why does this case matter you wonder? because its in your city, your home? or something else, the rose.

"He's spending hours with them, days even, I don't think the unsub is leaving them alone at all, the multiple rapes and choking is only a small part of it, see her hair has been washed and combed, she's got makeup on, it its well applied so maybe she's done it herself? but see her arms and legs, she's been beaten, and look this victim is the same, her abdomen is also bruised, victim one seems to of got the worst with him even leaving bruises on her face, he's beating them, either to keep them submitted or something is triggering him into a angry rage, this show pure rage in-between all the calculated steps he takes" he pauses and takes a breath in before continuing "they are workaholic, single, strong women, same build, hair type and race, who would likely not give him a second glance, we need to figure out who his real target is, profile the victim then we might find him, and figure out if she was one of these women or if she's still out there" Rossi states, removing his glasses and stares at everyone before letting his eyes fall onto you, he lingers then returns to his file in front of him.

You and Morgan look at each other knowingly from across the table, you try to avoid his piercing stare as your stomach starts turning when suddenly your eyes catch Hotch, he's been watching you for a while, even though you kept your eyes forward you knew he was watching you, you could feel it, his stern brow knitted together burning a hole into you, but when your eyes finally meet his eyes are all softness and concern, somethings off with you and he knows you are keeping something from him, you've been close in the past but for a few weeks you've been distant and it hurts not to tell him, since that night, keeping him at arms length and maybe been a little short with him, he keeps asking if you're ok, you cant worry him, not now, its better this way, its what he wanted right? there's a girls life on the line.

Morgan signals you to leave the room, you stand Hotch's eyes don't leave you as you try desperately to lose his gaze, if you could melt in to the wall you would

"excuse me" you say quietly and exit the room

"are you alright Y/N?" Hotch's stern voice low and calm freezes you into place.

"Yes, I just need some coffee" you lie with a full stone cold cup on the table, Hotch clocks the cup and his eyes burn into your head as you keep your back to him so he doesn't see the rising panic as you slink out the room, as you leave you hear Rossi whisper "come on Hotch she's clearly not OK, this unsub is hunting girls just like her, just give her a minute"

Morgan excuses himself and follows you, nodding at Hotch letting him know that he's on the case.

You stand in the small kitchen area your hands are shaking, you take some deep shaky breaths trying to steady them, you grab a glass and start filling it with water and take some slow small sips, barely being able to hold the glass, you it grasp with two hands, this cant be happening, it cant be him?

You had told Morgan a few months ago you'd been getting strange notes under your door at home, love notes along with a bouquet of red roses with a black ribbon nearly ever other day at work, at first you were flattered if not a little creeped out, Pen and Emily immediately started the 100 questions of who this guy was and how many dates we went on, but you played it off, after a while of sneaking them into the garbage you had told reception to stop bringing them through, as the attention was getting a bit much particularly from the team teasing about dating someone, and why they knew nothing about him, and he clearly likes you, this seems to really bother Hotch who you noticed would avoid the pit when you didn't get in early enough to remove them, but then they started appearing at home instead, you had tried to play it off and believed they would eventually lose interest, Reid had mentioned how he got gifts from victims we saved when they projected feelings on to us so you supposed this was a likely explanation. But as time went on you thought best to ask for some advise, once Morgan knew he got Penelope to see if she could find who it was, nothing, this guy was a ghost, Morgan even came home with you a few times to check everything over and had a rather heated discussion with the building manager about letting people through the building who didn't live here, the letters became increasingly graphic about your 'relationship' but a few weeks ago everything stopped, that was until Monday morning on your way out the front door of your apartment a red rose with a black ribbon lay on the ground next to a note saying 'we will be together soon', you hadn't yet told Morgan about this new development and weren't sure when it would need to come up again, surely it was nothing.

when you saw the rose at the crime scene everything had gone dark in your mind, this was no coincidence, this was your stalker! Were these girls dying because of you?

Morgan rushes through and grabs your arm forcing you to look at him almost making you drop the glass

"you need to tell him sweetness, this unsub is after you" taking the glass from your hands and resting it on the counter top

"we don't know that for sure, and you know the moment I do I will be off this case, I am much more useful to you helping the team"

"come on Y/N, the rose, you saw it, he's not been active for a while, has he been in touch again?"

you look at the floor contemplating how you should tell him, Morgan sighs and takes your face in his hands forcing you to look at him

"when?"

"Monday morning"

He drops his hands and panic filling his eyes and takes a deep breath

"Y/N you should've told me!! don't you get it? you are in danger"

"why is Y/N in danger?" A deep rumble seems to come from Hotch's chest, you both freeze and hold your breath as you turn and both see Hotch standing looking straight at Morgan, shock and pain all over his face

"its nothing I-" you begin but Hotch raises his hand to quiet you

"I was asking Derek, so will you finally tell me what is going on?"

It felt like hours past but it must've been a few seconds, you pleaded with Morgan in your mind to not make this a big deal, once he knows, everything will change, you will be a victim to your team.

"She's being stalked, and I believe the stalker might be our unsub, I think she's who he's actually after"

The air seems to leave the room, it was true, you thought the same you just didn't want to believe it, you were the intended victim, you were the reason these girls, these beautiful young women with their whole lives ahead of them, were murdered, because you caught this sick bastards eye. Your eyes begin to brim with traitorous tears as you fight them back.

Hotch looks at you for a while his face moving from broken, to full of rage, to completely calm in a split second, was he mad at you? did he blame you too? At that moment his phone begins to ring in his pocket, he takes a breath and reached in his pocket and turns away from you and Morgan to answer, Morgan turns to you and wraps his arm around you mouthing 'am sorry baby girl' as he kisses your forehead, you feel the tears fall down your face and wipe them away quickly. Hotch turns back to you both still holding the phone to his ear

"they've found another victim, up town"

Part 2 to follow

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 1

satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

plot: moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

themes: yandere, dead dove, non con/dub con, angst, naive reader, second person pov, thriller, toxic relationships, canon divergent

masterlist • read on ao3

Chapter Directory • Next Chapter >

1. Goodbye

Ever since the days of your childhood, you could see things that weren’t otherwise visible to anyone else lurk in the dark or simply just linger around people like parasites.

At often times, these beings would parrot the person they were shadowing, somehow perfectly resembling their true selves in the form of a grotesque caricature.

You quickly learned that this ability for being able to perceive such creatures wasn’t the norm and as such, your parents quickly caught on. Your mother told you fairly early on into life that you had a gift and it skipped every other generation on her side, so if you truly desire a normal life… then to just simply ignore it.

It was surely difficult, though.

For a while, you tried to live your life as normally as you could. You went to a normal school, tried to have normal friends and did your best to bury the ability to see things that you perhaps had no business seeing as time went on.

However, your gift was scouted out relatively quickly in a nearby school for special people just like yourself. It called itself a jujutsu school and the one in your area was one of the smaller ones in the country, meaning that you were the only student in your entire year and the only remaining two third years were gone by your second year with no fresh enrolments.

And when the time came to graduate, you did so alone as the only student sorcerer in the school.

The campus to your school wasn’t as greatly funded as the other schools so it didn’t quite have accommodation so you couldn’t really live there. This was apparently common in less populated areas.

Despite this, it felt like a blessing to leave your small town everyday and to simply just explore on field trips with your teacher. She was relatively young, she could have been your older sister as far as ages went and she did her best to make you feel included as a person, sympathising with you that this is indeed a lonely route in life at times but it’s all for something so much bigger.

But that wasn’t the reason you felt so alone.

There was another problem that resided in your town and it wasn’t loneliness, nor was it the fact that the town itself was polluted with generational problems — there was the problem of your lifelong childhood bully who simply did not like you and as such, made your life a living hell from the moment you could understand words.

If she hadn’t been human, she could have made a good cursed spirit. There was something incredibly off about her, something so twisted and perfectly vile, reflected and validated by the cursed spirits that hovered around her.

The town itself was crawling with them too; the town hall, the local hospital, the two schools and even certain houses harboured at least the simple ones. They weren’t dangerous, but they were there and keeping them around wasn’t doing anyone any good either.

Had you cared just a little bit more, you would have done something about it, but this town wasn’t kind to you and you weren’t going to be nice to it either.

Was that petty?

It sounded perfectly fair to you, even if you didn’t admit it to anyone. Your teacher told you that you were studying and learning how to be a sorcerer to protect people, to create a balance in this world, so technically you should have been exorcising those things in your free time.

As sad as it sounded also, she was also your only friend by the time you had reached graduation, too. You graduated from that place with the intention of becoming something similar, hoping to be someone’s support in what was an unforgiving and isolating life.

She helped you with everything beyond that point too, wanting to help you leave this place and explore your potential. She handled the references and getting your name to the right people, but still, it was starkly silent and you remained dormant for just a couple years more than you should have been after finishing school.

You hoped to land something in the bigger cities though, so you never backed down from the beginning. You knew that the cursed spirits that resided those were often worse and more intelligent, that the people there were simply just more complex, but that was besides the point—you wanted to get away from home as fast as you could, as far as you could.

Living at home in the sticks with your parents that were distant to you ever since you convinced them to let you go to that alternative school in a town under the spiteful eye of someone who understood perfectly well that there was something about you… wasn’t that great of a deal.

Especially after what she did back then.

The night that she went too far.

So, one could only imagine your relief and maybe some shock, when out of all of the places that could have taken you in for a teaching position, it was for Tokyo.

Your eyes stared at the letter for the longest time when it happened. You thought it was a prank at first, but it all seemed perfectly legitimate. Apparently your former teacher was hard at work to help you out and as it turned out, teachers with support-centric techniques were surprisingly in demand.

The letter recommended to move after the summer term had ended to get yourself set up and established, especially if moving from a place so far away. The school budget paid the teachers a minimum monthly salary due to some type of sorcerers’ union, so even if you were out of work for the summer, getting by shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

All you had to do was make it past the first month on your savings.

You were determined to make it work.

The moment that it was all set up and confirmed, you didn’t even look back. You thanked your parents for letting you stay and for not being too against your life, ready to head out and begin anew.

It would be different this time after all, you didn’t have to be the person you were before.

You could begin anew.

***

Upon arriving in Tokyo, it was admittedly a struggle with finding your bearings in such a crowded and bustling place. Your old school was nearby a city and you’d often go there for field trips, but it was nowhere near to this magnitude.

You were met at the train station by a jujutsu assistant. To your understanding, these were people who couldn’t quite make the cut as sorcerers but they were just as valuable with getting everything set up and done. Your old school had one too, but their job was simply to get you from your house and to the campus as well as the other way around.

This one on the other hand was absurdly helpful, their stature and tone laced with a certain type of professionalism that you didn’t think was possible; they not only drove you to the campus, but they also took their time to explain the layout, the facilities and even told you that you have a right to use the on-site accommodation over the summer if you didn’t quite having a living situation figured out just yet.

You didn’t, to their credit. You were about to live your first month out in a cheap hotel and hope for the best… so this was absolutely a step up in a better direction, at least as a temporary fix.

As such, you took that offer right away, not really thinking about it. It would make do for now, at least. You would be alone for the duration of it, but you didn’t quite care about that because you were already used to that to a degree.

Moving in as a result was easy enough; you chose the bedroom closest to the kitchen and bathroom, not bothering to explore the rest of the rooms because that’s all you needed.

You moved in a little earlier than the letter encouraged you to do so, but it was apparently fine to do so. As such, you were there right as the summer break had actually started so the existing teachers would be available to meet before they’d be excused for the holidays.

In a way, this thought mildly terrified you even if you were encouraged by the assistant to do so, to just get an idea of the types of people you’d be working with. You harboured some mild social anxiety from your isolated way of life and your main fear was coming across as strange in a way that was off-putting.

This was a high school so you fretted about it more than you should. What if your technique was lame? What if you came across as uninteresting? Did the teachers have cliques here or did they not care about such trivial matters?

Sorcerers were often weird themselves, so they were probably used to the latter.

Hopefully.

***

It took you a couple of days to get settled in and you took those moments to get used to the campus, mapping it out in your mind so that you could avoid getting lost wherever you had to be on your first day. The last thing you wanted to do was to mess up in front of your students, of course.

You also got used to using the nearby bus line that was close to the campus. The travel card itself was heavily discounted, just one of the many perks supposedly and you got used to small frequent trips to go and get groceries just as some strange form of exposure therapy.

Come Friday, or rather the final Friday, it was time to get to know who you would be working with. You being nervous was the understatement of the century. You always knew that you would end up at least somewhere to be a jujutsu teacher, but all of the big shots were in Tokyo and that’s who you would be working with.

The gathering point was in a standard staff lounge. The room itself was beige both in flooring and the surrounding walls had a few sofas stacked against them. There was otherwise a kitchenette further into the room with a coffee machine that apparently was labelled as defunct, despite the lingering smell of it going strong in the room.

The head of the school, Yaga as you had come to know him as, was the first person you met beyond that room. He didn’t let you say too much before he would lead you off to a group of people and throw you right in the middle of the conversation they were otherwise having.

As such, the anxiety began to fester.

You tried to keep your cool, though.

“These two,” he began to speak up as he pointed to a tall white-haired man and another with longer pulled back black hair, “will be your two official colleagues, you’ll be taking on the same students as a whole but you will be assigned individual cases based on your abilities.”

Both seemed to be around your age, which both comforted and unsettled you all at the same time

The white haired man was the first to interact with you as he drew out his hand to shake as you awkwardly scrambled to meet him halfway. His vibrant blue eyes were certainly unique, you thought.

“Pleased to meet you,” he spoke, his tone was playful and yet professional, “I’m Satoru Gojo, you can call me as you’d like.”

You have heard of that name before, at least the clan name. There were certain details that reached even your small school and you were aware of the major sorcerer clans at the very least.

“Suguru, Geto,” the black haired man added on, his handshake more curt and to the point.

A woman between the two of them cleared her throat, throwing a narrowly pointed stare at the principal and extended her hand to you as well. Yaga muttered something under his breath to her as he walked off, leaving you behind with three completely new people.

She had shoulder length brown hair and slight eye bags that occupied her face. She rolled up the sleeve to her white coat to comfortably shake your hand as well.

“I’m Shoko Ieri. Just call me Shoko, feel free to call these two by their first names too. They won’t mind, nor care,” she said as she introduced herself to you.

“I’m [name],” you nodded along as you introduced yourself, unsure what to really say beyond that point, “the new supportive techniques teacher, I suppose.”

“Ah, I heard we were getting someone new in that department,” Satoru said, his eyes scrolling up and down your body, leaving you feeling a little exposed.

“I’m the campus doctor so not really a teacher,” Shoko added along, “Satoru handles most of the students, Suguru helps train others with things like hand to hand combat and sword fighting.”

“Looks like we’ve finally got a solid facility,” Satoru smiled, throwing his arms around his two colleagues. You assumed that they were all good friends, something that you envied.

“So where are you from?” Shoko asked.

“Oh, I’m from a town further north in the country,” you replied, feeling just a little nervous for admitting it. You wondered if you should have just said you were from a city up north instead.

“How are you finding the big city?” Satoru almost teased, his teeth flashing through his playful grin.

“Exhausting,” you admitted with a small smile, your eyes trailing onto the ground as you mulled over your answer, “but I like it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he smiled before going off to pay attention to his other friend, seemingly concluding that brief interaction with you.

Shoko stared at him for a moment as she did so before turning her sights back to you.

“Hey, so we’re going out for drinks, nothing too serious, maybe you should come along?” she asked, her tone was friendly but it didn’t seem fake.

You considered it as you looked at her for a moment. You weren’t really the drinking type as you simply never had the opportunity to do so; your parents never kept alcohol at home and you didn’t have the friends to go sneak off and get it elsewhere growing up.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favour,” she spoke up again in a more lighthearted manner, noticing your hesitation, “it would be just me and these two otherwise.”

“I could,” you nodded along to it, after all. If you were going to be leaving your comfort zone, then you had to actually take a step out of it if the opportunity arose, which it did here.

“Great,” she smiled, pulling your hand along with her as she caught up to the other two, “if you’re going to be working with these two, you might as well get to know them.”

The two men didn’t say anything but they did make room to include you as they walked along beside you. You felt some discomfort as a result, as if you were a fourth wheel somehow intruding on a perfectly established dynamic.

You walked along in relative silence as you tried to keep up with some desperation as the streets quickly became more and more crowded. To your comfort, Shoko never once let go of your wrist and pushed through the masses with you in tow, telling you to just stare straight ahead because making eye contact with people only slows them down, to focus on that building right at the end of the road because that’s where you’re all going.

You listened to her words and took everything she said seriously as the bustle quickly got too overwhelming, finding that it surprisingly worked and as such, quickly found comfort in her company because she was the first person aside from your teacher to give you a chance.

You even sat next to her when you got to the bar as the two others went elsewhere, to get drinks from what it looked like.

“Shoko’s hogging the newbies again,” Satoru pouted as he came back with a few bottles of booze as his friend brought over even more, “always getting to know them before we do.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to get to know,” she replied as she poured herself a drink, pouring one for you right after, “besides you left immediately, what were you expecting?”

“For my grand charm to kick in and let the law of attraction do its work?” he laughed as he settled into his seat, seeming a little tired from what you could gather.

“So hopeless,” she replied as she took a swig from her glass, “you talk too much about yourself, and you don’t talk talk enough—someone has to be the middleman, right?”

“I do talk, though?” Suguru replied as he quietly poured himself a drink.

“You’ve said the least so far, to be fair,” Satoru piled on.

“The newbie isn’t talking much either,” he shrugged as he took a sip.

“That’s what the drinks are for,” Satoru smiled, “everyone’s talkative after a few.”

You suddenly felt as though it was now your queue to drink, but you didn’t really know what to expect from it but you tried your best and still managed to sour your face as you got into it, getting a couple of stifled laughs from the seats opposite.

“Take a big sip and then force it down,” Shoko said, “it gets easier as time goes by.”

You nodded as your cheeks quickly grew red from embarrassment.

“So, you said you were from the north right? Just how far up north?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, a little too suddenly interested in you after seeing you couldn’t hold your drink.

“Just… far enough… I guess…” you replied, your eyes slowly drifting off to the table as you felt less and less enthusiastic about sharing where you were from.

“You don’t sound too happy about that place,” Suguru observed as he replied to you directly, “that bad?”

You nodded a little as you made brief eye contact with him, talking yourself into drinking more for the sake of getting out of your bubble.

“[name]?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, completely ignoring the conversation that was otherwise happening.

“Yes?” you asked, suddenly caught just a little off guard from the tone he used. It was somehow accusatory and you weren’t looking forward to whatever happened next.

“I mean this politely, but is this your first time drinking?” he continued to ask.

You gulped down your embarrassment and decided to just go along with it, after all. You knew that it would only look worse for you in the long run if you made a big deal out of such things.

“I-I didn’t really get the chance to do that back home,” you tried to reply, laughing a little at yourself and hoping for the best.

“Really? I wouldn’t imagine that there’s much else to do in a small town, especially one that you’re not too fond of,” he replied, talking a little louder as the alcohol settled in his body.

“I mostly just existed there, I guess,” you said in a tone that was a little too sombre, quickly surrendering to another sip of the liquid comfort. To your peripheral vision, Suguru seemed to paying just a little more attention to you now but you weren’t sure if you were simply just imagining things.

You watched with both comfort and unease as Shoko topped off the glass that you barely finished as the others were by now onto their third glasses and then imitated a gesture of how you’re supposed to drink with her hand, expecting you to follow.

You sighed as you did so, perhaps it was some right of passage that you simply had to follow along. The drink felt sharp in your throat somehow, more so than before. It did wake you up though and to your embarrassment, you felt just a little buzz after it had finally settled.

“Attagirl,” she cheered you on as she patted your back with some pride, “see, you need to pick your poison in a place like this, otherwise it’s gonna burn you out.”

“That why you drink so much and smoke a pack a day?” Satoru teased her, leaning over the table and fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket.

“Hey,” she replied as she smacked his hand away, “you’re saying that like you’re not the cause for it.”

“I can’t possibly be that bad enough to give you both a drinking and smoking problem,” he said as he resigned back into his seat.

“Nah, she’s right,” Suguru agreed with Shoko.

“Really?” he asked in a fake exasperated tone, not seeming too surprised about the teasing.

“Are you actually surprised?” Shoko laughed as she topped you up once again.

They continued to laugh and joke with each other, finally relaxing within your company and you finally didn’t feel like such a fourth wheel even if you weren’t contributing much.

You finally also then took hold of your third drink and stared it down with such determination that Satoru even drummed his hands on the table as you were about to drink it. Shoko did the same and Suguru was the last to join.

When you finally downed it without making a face that time, you finally felt relaxed enough to smile and laugh with the rest of them as your milestone was finally met.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe, just maybe, it was finally getting better.

(But if only you knew.)

[fairylights-throughthemist]

Eddie Munson as tracks on The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift

Fortnight

Exhusband!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Tortured Poets Department

Friends to Lovers to Strangers with Eddie

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Toxic!Mean!Eddie x Reader

Down Bad

Protective!Mafia!Eddie x Reader

So Long, London

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader have spent lots of time in London during their relationship. Now that it’s ended she never wants to return.)

But Daddy I Love Him

Dad’s Best Friend!Eddie / Older!Eddie x Reader

Fresh Out The Slammer

Ex-Con!Eddie x Reader

Florida!!!

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader’s [now ex]boyfriend cheated on her, she went to Florida on vacation to forget about him. At a local bar she meets a certain rockstar touring the country with his band.)

Guilty As Sin?

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie broke up with you, yet you can’t stop thinking about him. Not even with another man in your bed.)

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader just made their relationship official and his fans can’t seem to keep their mouths shut. Haters online compare you to other women he’s been seen with, they make comments about your body and they don’t think you deserve Eddie.) (This description also fits for Delicate from Reputation.)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Mafia!Eddie x Catholic / Virgin / Good Girl / Shy! Reader

loml

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Situationship!Mean!Toxic!Eddie x Reader

The Alchemy

Hockey player!Eddie x Reader

Clara Bow

Rockstar!Eddie x Actress!Reader

(Reader always getting compared to other actresses, everyone wants her to be bigger and better than anyone before her. Eddie being the only one able to comfort her.)

The Black Dog

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

imgonnagetyouback

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Albatross

Virgin!Eddie x “Slut”!Reader

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie becoming addicted to drugs, reader trying to help him but giving up when he cheats on her.)

How Did It End?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(No one caring about how you’re doing, only asking about Eddie and asking what happened.)

So High School - my first fic ever!!

Best Friends to Lovers, Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader playing Kiss, Marry, Kill while high, Reader naming people when it’s Eddie’s turn, one of them being herself, leading her to ask “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me?”)

I Hate It Here

Eddie x You

(Yes you. We all know you read to escape reality.)

thanK you aIMee

Eddie x Reader

(Based on the title, not the lyrics)

(Think All Of The Girls You Loved Before, Reader thanking one of Eddie’s exes for contributing to the amazing man he is now.)

I Look In People’s Windows

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Prophecy

Eddie x Reader

(Post Vecna…)

Cassandra

Toxic!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader watching Eddie’s show in the pit and getting sexually harassed / groped by some creep. Not wanting to interrupt the show or cause a scene, she keeps quiet. Anxiety and stress leading up to a breakdown, Eddie being high out of his mind asking if everything’s okay. You snap at him and tell him about the incident at his concert but he doesn’t believe you. The day after your breakdown, Eddie asks you what happened last night, after a quick recap of the events your petty boyfriend chooses not to believe you.)

Peter

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Similar to Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me. Eddie being ignorant and giving half assed advice like “Just ignore it”. He doesn’t show how much he cares due to his newfound love for drugs.)

The Bolter

Eddie x Reader

(Reader being afraid of relationships and attachment. Her trying to bolt from Eddie’s love but he doesn’t let her. Steve and Robin being supportive of Reader and Eddie’s relationship, they felt the need to tell him about her attachment style before it was too late.)

Robin

Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

The Manuscript

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing anything so please be nice !!!!

[justanofficeworker]

Man's best friend

TW: This Fic contains kidnapping, dub con, NSFW scenes, Stockholm syndrome among other things. Please do not read if these themes upset or disturb you. That being said welcome and enjoy the ride.

Chapter 1- The meeting

The harsh fluorescent lights of my local grocery store shone into my eyes as I struggled to reach the top shelf for the last item on my list. I groan as I fall back from the tips of my toes. ‘God whoever put the brown sugar on the top shelf is a fucking whore’ I think to myself rolling my eyes. ‘Ok, round two’ I reach up to the shelf again, my hand just barely grazing the bag before a large scared hand plucks the bag down and offers it to me. My eyes follow the hand, up a thick arm to an attractive scared face, it's bottom half covered by a black surgical mask with a white skull decal on the front. 

“Need a’lil help love?” the man's voice was warm like hot chocolate and just as smooth. “ holy, blond babe” involuntarily slips through my lips, I need to start thinking before I speak. “ well that's a new one” he chuckles, a sound I would pay a premium just to have in a bottle. "Geez, I'm sorry, that was creepy. Thanks for grabbing that for me" I rush out, taking the bag of brown sweetness in my hand. " Don't worry about it, I've been told my appearance is a bit shocking to most civilians, I'm Simon" he holds his hand out for a handshake. 'civilians, maybe he's ex-military?' I think as I shake his hand. It's as warm as his voice sounds and he grasps my hand gently, not like how most men squeeze your hand to intimidate you when you're a woman. "I'm Y/n, but most people just call me Beanie" The sentence all but falls out of my mouth, god I'm awkward.

Simon steps closer to me as another shopper passes through the aisle. "Beanie? A cute name fitted for a cute girl" his eyebrows quirk like he was smiling or maybe laughing at his own joke. 'holy shit this guy is huge' runs through my mind as he gets closer. Simon has a least a foot on me and is nearly twice as wide, hes like a brick house covered in a fluffy green cardigan. "hello? Earth to ms. Beanie. You still in there? or do you just like staring?" He waves a hand in front of my face and i let out a startled squeak.

"I'm so sorry, I just um ,have a lot on my mind" a good enough excuse if I've ever made one. Simon looks pensive " well, I've got to get home before my , dog, gets antsy. But how bout we talk more over coffee. maybe you can tell me a little of whats on your mind" he pulls out a pen and receipt from his pocket and jots his number on it. "text me some time" he winks as he turns to walk out the aisle. " Oh um yeah ok" i call out to him , dumb founded, a hot english guy just gave me his number after calling me cute. The world must be ending. I finish my shopping quickly and begin my walk home, unable to shake the sudden feeling of being watched.

SIMON POV

“Toothpaste,sorbet, lemons….” Simon’s thoughts trailed off as he looked catching a glimpse of what had to be the most pathetic looking woman he had ever seen. She was small and curvy and struggling. Muttering under her breath , probably about the sugar she couldn’t reach. Her braids bounced with his movements as she tried to reach the top shelf again. Simon had know her, before he could stop himself he was walking over and reaching for the sugar, brown like her glossy skin, and handing it to her. He had asked if she needed help and in her surprise called him a ‘blond babe’. She was shy , like a mouse , in their short interaction she seemed to just loose focus and float off. A girl like her shouldn’t be by herself, she should be at home being coddled and cozy. At least according to Simon.

He had to know more, so he gave her his number, he knew she eventually reach out and then they’d have their girl. He excused himself and then waited. Soon enough she was exiting the store and walking , presumably, to her home. As he watched he called Johnny. “Soap, i’ve found a bird for us” he said into his earbud as he took a picture to sent to his partner. As the photo was received johnny groaned. “She’s a pretty one, looks sweet” came johnny’s voice.

“When?” Johnny barked impatiently

“Soon” Simon scolded as he got into his car and drove off

————————————————————————------------------------

The sound of the car door alerted Johnny to Simon’s return. Soon enough heavy footsteps sounded up the porch. Johnny opened the door for his partner, eager to know more about their new girl. Crowding Simon in the entryway and throwing questions left and right. Whats her name, when will she be ours , what does she smell like? The inquires dying in his throat as Simon curls a warm hand around it. “ patience johnny shes a skittish one. Quiet and easily distracted too. We don’t want to scare her , do we?” Johnny gave a whine and nodded “I’m going to take her out , wine and dine her and when the time comes bring her home. You will not interfere. Copy?” Simon pulled Johnny in close by the throat, towering over him. “ yes sir” johnny whined, his hips twitching against Simon’s leg. Johnny had always been impatient and impulsive, but now with the prospect of you all training went right out the window.

"Good lad, now kneel for me love" Johnny easily slides to the floor, his head bowed and lent against Simon thigh. Johnny was docile when he wanted something and in this case it was information. Slowly, johnny unzips Simon's fly, " tell me a bout our bird Simon, whats she like?" Johnny, voice sultry and sweet, is allowed to pull Simon from his pants.

" Eager are we puppy?" Simon hisses as Johnny kisses his leaking tip. "shes a golden goddess of a women, small and demure, she was shy when i approached her but" he pauses as Johnny's warm mouth engulfs his member. "i can see it , shes got a mean streak, was cursin' up a storm before she noticed me." Simon sighs as johnny takes him to the base. "Easy pet, wouldn't want to" Simon is interrupted by a high pitched *ping*.

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

" I'm home" you yelled into your empty apartment. You lived alone but had read somewhere that announcing your arrival and departures could help stave off the effects of depression. And god did you need a break from those effects. You'd been alone since you had kicked out your then boyfriend of 3 years after finding him in bed with your now ex best friend. "it's not what it looks like' he had said as you started grabbing all traces of him and throwing them out the nearest window, you friend's clothes included. You'd kicked them both out with nothing but the sheet off your bed and said good riddance. 'maybe i should get a cat" You mused as you unloaded your groceries. Your thoughts suddenly swerving to the huge blond you'd met, the number he had slipped you now burning a hole in your pocket.

Maybe you'd text him , be real suave and ask him out or something.

Beanie: Hey it's Beanie from the grocery store you helped me wit the sugar :)

Typing....

typing...

' He must be typing a letter or something, you think as you lean against your cabinet. Setting your phone down you leave the kitchen take a well deserved bath. As you turn the tap you hear a distant *ping*. You may or may not have run out of the bathroom and tripped trying to get to your phone faster.

Simon: Yeah Beanie

Simon: I remember you , the pretty bird buying sugar

You can feel your face heating at the compliment, already imagining his smooth as warm butter voice. You were having some inappropriate feelings about a stranger and you needed to *ping*. Another text.

Simon: so about that coffee love?

[shhh-secret-time]

hello ^^, i saw your secret soulmate au about craig, i don't have the words to explain how much i giggled, twirled my hair and everything XD! well, when you have the time, could you do a craig x clyde x reader smut? of course, if you feel comfortable with it! reader can be female or gn. it's practically normal smut but just craig fucking the reader from behind and clyde from the front, so that's it! tysm for reading, i love your writing too! <33 -✨️ Anon (I'm still new to tumblr so i might get confused on some things sometimes!)

Completely understandable, I too am confused with how tumblr works and I've been on this godless site since fucking Dash Con. I'm glad you liked the way I wrote those dorks! And thank you for fueling my Clyde agenda!

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Sub/Dom dynamics, blow jobs, orgasm denial, threesome

Pairing: Clyde x Fem!Reader x Craig

The sweet air of the votives swirls around the empty church. Empty except for the dim orange and red light that illuminates the book in the man's hand.

A woman at his feet, clothed in fine silks. A mix of reds and whites that twine together. Beautiful patterns of stars flow across the dress.

She dips her head in prayer alongside the man. The father of the church glides his fingers across her cheek as her mouth closes. Reciting scriptures of one's devotion for an unseen God. Everything in that moment was peaceful.

The warmth in the Father's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, the greens darken with a desire that he knows better than to have. It's difficult to hide the growing ache in his pants. More so when the woman's lips curl into a mischief smile, the warm glow of the candles makes them shine with an otherworldly glow. She looks up at him and her eyes fall deep into those pools of lust. Her hands break apart from that folded prayer and onto his black dress pants. They card up further against his thighs where they settle and clutch the material.

"Father, bless me...", a whisper that makes the Father groan.

Temptation never looked so sweet. This woman made his chest pound. Unholy thoughts flood his mind and go straight to his-

You let out a loud groan. Your forehead drops and hits the table beside your keyboard. The forgotten mug with now cold tea rattles.

Writer’s block, the very bane of any author’s existence. It's been haunting you for weeks now, making it impossible to get anything done. You've been stuck on this part of your romance novel the entire time. A part you were so excited to get to!

The buildup was perfect! You had calculated, plotted, and carefully crafted a budding romance between a witch and a holy man. A forbidden romance that took place within the walls of the church, the furthest outside the walls it went were the gardens that surrounded the area. The two fell in love after he saved her from the townsfolk claiming sanctuary.

Inspiration struck you like lightning after you fell in love with your partners. After publishing a sci-fi series, that honestly changed the name of how science fiction would be written forever, you met two fans at a book signing event. You had made a surprise appearance at a local library in some little town called South Park. Coming from the big city yourself, it was a huge surprise that anyone in the little town would actually be a fan of yours.

Apparently, you had quite a few. A man with bright red hair who had a black-haired man following alongside him. Both gushed about how the story inspired some kind of board game they played with their friends. A sweet blond woman who had the cutest southern accent you've ever heard. She gave you a piece of fan mail that had the most adorable sticker on it. Another black-haired man who dressed as Spock for some reason. He went on for a solid thirty minutes about a fanfic he wrote regarding the main character of your book and Star Trek's very own Captain Kirk.

Finally came the oddest duo you had ever met. The two were like day and night, a cat and a dog, fire and ice; the whole nine yards. A bright smile with baby brown eyes on one, and an ice-cold deadpan look with amber eyes to match on the other. At first you thought the brown-haired one was your fan and the man with the blue hat was just along for the ride.

"Haha! No way! I'm not into that..." He paused as if to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't, "...kinda stuff."

"That kind of stuff?" You repeat back at him, raising a brow.

"He means reading. He doesn't know how." The other spoke putting a hand on top of his head. With a little push he forced the brown-haired man's head down.

You giggled at that. The protests coming from the poor man was comical. You almost felt sorry for him, watching him struggle to move the taller man's hand off.

"Then I take it I'm signing this book out to you?" With a click of your pen, you look up at him.

The NASA jacket on the bright blue sleeves of his jacket should have given it away honestly. There's was a small tinge of a blush on his tan cheeks, almost hidden under the skin tone but you were able to make it out under the light. He looked away for a moment before nodding at you.

"Yeah."

"Name?"

"His name is Craig! He's a huge fan of yours by the way! So, if you could write something sweet for him that'd be awesome!" His friend chirped at you as he broke free from Craig's grip.

Craig's face twisted, those piercing eyes of his narrowed down. Before he could reach and grab him, the brown-haired man slid behind your chair. Putting his hand on your chair, he bent down to your level and tapped the blank white page.

"As you can see my big guy has a baaaaaad case of resting bitch face."

"Clyde..." the warning that slipped out of Craig's mouth made a shiver roll down your spine. It was even directed at you, and you felt threatened.

"So, you gotta imagine my surprise when he came home smiling! I was shocked! He didn't even smile when we started going out!" Clyde ignored him, an attest to his bravery. Or foolishness. Either way he continued, leaning down next to your ear. "Your book made him so happy, so it makes me happy. Think you could do that for me? Because he'll never ask you to do it for him."

You look up at him for a while, not even bothered that he had gotten closer to your face as he spoke. The browns in his eyes flickered with mischief but there were layers of love behind them. Chocolate that seemed to melt into tiny hearts when he spoke about Craig. It was honestly sweet, even if he was trying to tease his partner.

"How can I say no to that? I'd love to." You smiled at him and began writing on the empty page.

Yeah, who would have thought that fate would tie you to those two like that. Falling in love with Craig and Clyde was nothing like what they wrote in books or movies. It was a tornado of events that landed you in the eye of it all.

Despite their polar opposite personalities and looks, the two worked off each other well. Then when you got thrown in the middle, you filled in a little spot they desperately needed.

Clyde was social enough for the three of you. He was the one who reminded you and Craig that you needed to get out of the house. When you lock yourself away in your office, he would drag you out with a fun date idea. Movie nights, football games, arcade dates, and his favorite late-night walks. Doing the same to Craig who always seemed buried in work.

Craig gave off such scary dog privilege that you and Clyde never felt threatened. You could take those late-night walks with Clyde because you knew nothing would touch you with Craig following close behind.

That was nice sure, but under that scary looking shell was a soft teddy bear of a man. While he wasn't vocal with affection like Clyde, he was observant. Craig remembered everything, everything about you and Clyde's interests. If he saw something you mentioned in passing it was yours. Clyde needed new shoelaces because the ones on his favorite pair of red shoes were tearing? There was a new pack waiting for him on the table. You complained about the shift key on your keyboard sticking too much? An adorable keyboard that looked like a typewriter was found on your desk the next morning.

Then there was you. You have no idea how these two survived this long without you. Truth be told they don't either. Craig and Clyde couldn't cook to save their lives. Their diet consisted of diner food and Chinese takeout. While their house was clean enough, laundry was never put away or folded. Clyde was horrible at putting his dirty laundry in the bin and Craig was too tired most nights to even make it to bed. The final straw was when you took a shower, and their only soap was 3 in 1.

Absolutely not.

So, when you moved in things changed. When Craig was at work, you would take Clyde grocery shopping. Slowly you started him on simple dishes, working with him until he was comfortable in the kitchen. What was surprising was that he took to it quickly. He was a natural and before you knew it, he was cooking things you had never heard of. He had gone as far as looking up Peruvian dishes, practicing with spices and techniques that had your mouth watering. When you asked how he learned to do all of this, he gave you the biggest grin and told you it was YouTube.

When Craig came home that night to Chupe de Camarones it was the closest to crying you've ever seen from him.

Clyde really stepped up after that, feeling a sense of pride in taking care of you two. Seeing as you worked just as hard as Craig did. Clyde proclaimed something about being more than happy to be a malewife.

In return Craig started taking better care of himself, actually starting to care about his health. He stopped staying up so late and made use of the giant bed. Clean sheets and blankets that felt good on his skin. Even better that you and Clyde would be in it waiting for him. Clyde long passed out on your chest, a bit of drool sliding down the side of his face and onto your shirt. Not that you seemed to care as you just continued to read next to the little bedside lamp. Only pausing when you felt Craig's presence in the doorway.

Craig's smiles were rare, little treats from the universe to you. Ones like these where he smiles with love in his eyes. Where he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers, crawling into bed next to you. Arms wrapping around Clyde and with a hand settling on your hips. A silent squeeze lets you know it's time to put the book down and join him.

How can you say no to a smile like that?

Of course, not every day was perfect. Your relationship took time to hash out. It was different being with two individuals at the same time, but you made it work. The three of you were committed to one another.

Now if only you could commit to this fucking scene.

Your head’s little meet and greet with the table must have been louder than you thought because whatever Clyde was yelling about in the living room stopped. It was one of the rare weekends where Craig was home and off work. Choosing to spend it watching some show with Clyde, listening to the man ramble on about something.

So wrapped up in your thoughts, you let out a scream when you finally lift your head and Clyde is right there beside you. His body bent over just like the day you met him. With his hand on the back of your chair and his face next to yours. Except instead of using, you as a shield from Craig, he's reading your computer screen.

While he doesn't understand what it takes to be an author, he sees the effect it has on you. Days like this where you take on the posture of a shrimp, forgetting to come out to eat.

His lips start pursed, but as he continues to scan over the screen they break out into a smirk. He covers his mouth in a fake surprise, a gasp with widened eyes.

"Babe! This is...scandalous! Spicy, naughty even! What are you doing writing something like this?" His dramatic act continues, forming some feign surprise.

"What are you doing using words with more than one syllable?" You shoot back with a little smirk.

It takes everything in your power not to laugh at the actual pout on his face. Try as you might, the giggles escape your lips, and it makes him smirk. He leans down and nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me babe! I'm getting smarterer with you around!" You know he said that word wrong on purpose, just to get under your skin.

But he kisses you quiet before you can say anything. Holds your face in his hands so you can't pull away. You can taste the cherry chapstick on his lips, and the growing smile along with it.

"So, what's got you bashing your head into your desk baby? Craig and I heard a thump and got worried." He moves the kisses towards your forehead.

"Was it that loud?"

"Heard it over the tv." Craig's voice almost makes you leap out of your skin.

You bite your lip, looking down at the keyboard with a distant stare. The faded green and blue, spots where your fingers had smudged away the paint from typing so much.

"I'm just having trouble with this scene. I've been stuck on it for weeks now." You exhale softly.

Craig raises a brow and leans down on the other side of you. Both Clyde and Craig bent over to take a look at your screen. You're not sure why the fact both men reading your unfinished work makes you feel nervous, but it does. Or maybe it's the fact this is your first time writing a spicy scene like this.

"It's good. Never would have thought you'd go the Priest kink route." Craig says it so matter of fact, there's never hesitation in his voice. You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him flustered, and even then, his tone is flat.

"I-I’m not into it! I just- you guys are only reading a snippet of my book! There's been a romance blossoming between the two the whole time!" You try to defend yourself, but it only makes Clyde's lips tug into a smirk.

The temptation to tease you was too great, it was being handed to him on a silver platter. Clyde leans up and walks next to Craig, leaning into his chest. The man wraps his arms around himself and lets out a dramatic sigh.

"A forbidden love! A tale as old as time! But what I wanna know babe-" Clyde stops and lets the tension build. It makes you glare at him as you turn in your office chair. "-is why the witch's descriptions are reaaaally close to mine."

"That's a woman Clyde! She's got short brown hair because it was cut off when she was running from the townsfolk! Brown eyes are common and beautiful! There's not enough representation for them!"

"Aaaaaand her dimples?" He points to his, the little spots in his cheeks that sink in when he smiles. "Plus, my eyes are totally beautiful."

"It's not you!"

"Oh, and the Father isn't Craig. Tan skin, black hair? You gave the Father green eyes but other than that, it fits Craig to a T." Craig actually nods along with what Clyde is saying. He's got his eyes closed as if this is some kind of philosophical debate.

"Are you serious right now Clyde?! This is why you two aren't allowed in my study!" Your face was burning now, hot and flushed from his teasing.

"What did I do?" Craig breaks the little fight with a simple question.

"Nodding your head along! You know what he's doing and you're encouraging it!"

"So, you took inspiration from your partners in your romance story. It's cute." He responds with a shrug. He looks down at Clyde who's still smugly leaning against his chest.

Your mouth falls open, you go to respond but nothing makes its way out. Your brows furrow. Arms crossed under your chest in a pout.

Had you unintentionally based your characters off your partners? Is that why the romance novel was easy to write up until this point?

Whatever the case may be here, you didn't like being called out. So, you do what you always do when they get like this, you turn in your chair and ignore them.

Usually this works, let's them know that you're not in the mood for their games. That you'd rather be left alone than entertain another minute of their shenanigans. But this time Clyde wasn't going to let you go. He grabs the back of your seat and wheels you back towards him and Craig.

"Baaaaabe don't pout. Look I'm sorry~." No, he's not. "But hey I've got an idea."

You let out a little huff, enough to where he knows you're not actually mad at him. If you were you would have picked your chair up and walked it back to your desk. Instead, you sit there and wait for him to continue.

"You're stuck on that scene, but I think you need a break. Sitting here and bashing your head against the table isn't going to fix that. Soooo..." He trails off, moving to stand in front of you.

His fingers glide across the side of your face, cupping your cheek so gently. Clyde guides your face up to look at him, behind that cocky smile of his he's got such love for you in his eyes. The way his thumb brushes across your cheek, making your heart flutter so slightly.

"What do you say Craig and I help you out a little babe?" Clyde guides your face up towards him. He presses his thumb against your lips just as his voice dips into that playful whisper.

You raise a brow at him in response. It's not until Craig puts his hand on your shoulders, that you piece together this wasn't just his idea. Thumbs pressed into your muscles working out the knots and tension. For such a hard worker, somehow Craig's hands always stay so soft. The worn-out oversized t-shirt you stole does little against his hands. The material is thin from how often it's been washed and worn.

His hands pull a soft moan from you, it feels too good to keep yourself silent. Clyde pushes his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, the digit presses down on your soft pink tongue. He all but purrs when watches you wrap your lips around it.

"See...let's work out some of that tension. We'll make you feel real good and give you a little inspiration." Clyde hums as he pulls his thumb out, smearing the saliva across your lips.

When he doesn't continue, you realize he's waiting for your confirmation. Waiting for you to agree to their little plan. But that doesn't stop Craig from bending down and placing a kiss on your cheek. He trails the kisses down to your jawline, using his nose to nudge your head to the side. Lulling your head to the side, you gave into the feeling. Craig's lips move to capture the exposed skin. You can feel just how eager he is from the way the kisses turn to nips then to full on bites. His teeth sinking into the soft parts of your flesh pulling another sharp gasp from you.

"Come on honey. Let us take care of you." After he's done leaving small love bites on your neck, Craig moves to your ear nipping the shell.

"Y-yeah that sounds...that sounds good." You move your hands up towards Craig, running your fingers through his hair. One of the rare moments he's not sporting his blue hat. "I could use a little break..."

"That's our girl." Clyde's praise goes straight to your core. He lifts you up from your office chair, hands cupping the back of your thighs for support. They give your thighs a little squeeze, digging his fingertips into your flesh.

Craig moves out of his way and goes to push your office chair back towards your desk. Clyde chuckles softly seeing the confused look on your face. Instead of protesting you wrap your arms around the brunette lazily throwing your arms around his neck.

"We're supposed to be relaxing, we're gonna get nice and comfy on the couch." He drops you down on the couch, making you bounce a bit. He laughs when you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You ass." Your grumbles fall on deaf ears. Clyde just runs his fingers through your hair and gives it a harsh tug. It makes you cry out, craning your neck up towards him.

"Sweetheart, that's not very nice. You're being a brat right now." He tuts, feigning disappointment.

"You dropped me on the-" You suck in another cry when he tugs your head to the side, that firm grip on your roots sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hm? You were saying something? I did what?"

Clyde's smug little smirk made your blood boil. But his fingers in your hair felt too good to protest further. Especially when he switched between tugging and massaging his fingertips into your scalp. You watched his eyes flicker from yours to behind you. Before you could turn around to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, Craig's hands slid down your back.

Gently, much more than Clyde, he pushes you down towards Clyde. His other hand comes down to grab your ankle, pulling your leg back towards him. Once your knee is tucked against the couch, he does the same to the other leg.

If your face wasn't burning up before it certainly is now. Just as you go to hold yourself up with your hands, Clyde removes his hand from your hair and takes you by the wrist. Guiding you up towards him, he places them on the hems of his sweatpants. The grey university sweatpants do little to hide his hardening cock, you watch it twitch against the fabric.

"This is about where you left off right? She was about to take the Father's cock out of his pants?" Clyde says watching as you slowly pull his sweatpants down. He lets out a low chuckle that turns into a moan when you slip your fingers around his cock. "That's it, now keep your eyes on me baby."

There's a moment of hesitation as you bring the tip closer to your mouth. The bright red tip glides across your plump lips begging for you to open. His hand returns to your hair, smoothing down your locks from his earlier manhandling.

The gentle touch makes you look up towards him, just like he requested. There really was something so intimate about those chocolate brown eyes of his. Past that smirk and layers of darkened lust, there was devotion. The feeling of your hands on him alone made him weak in the knees. You put that to the test, pressing just a little kiss on the tip. Dabbing your tongue against his leaking member. Just from that alone he's letting out the prettiest moans.

"Sh-shit, c’mon don't tease me." That cocky attitude of his melts. You almost laugh at how easy it is to break him down. He was puddy in your hands.

With a little hum you move your hand up and down his shaft, creating enough friction to make him buck his hips towards you. He nudges his cock further into your mouth, pushing past your lips. The underside of his cock glides down against your tongue, smearing the pre-cum along with it.

So caught up in your little game, you almost forgot about Craig behind you. Almost. It's hard to forget him when he's got his hands all over you. Large palms cupping any exposed skin. Craig takes his time exploring every curve he can get ahold of. His nose nuzzled into the back of your head. His breath tickling the shell of your ear. Just the sight of your mouth around Clyde's member alone is enough to make him growl.

Neither men are patient when it comes to you. Craig shoves whatever is left of your pajamas down and off you, he doesn't bother with your shirt as it'll pull you away from your lover. Instead, he decides it'll make the perfect handle. He bunches it up until it collects at the collar. His hands grip the shirt and tug it backwards, making your hips rock back into him.

Somewhere along the way he stripped away his pants. The barrier between the both of you was the thin material of your underwear and his dark blue boxers. While Craig wasn't as vocal as Clyde was, with his teasing and little whimpers, he could be just as unfair if not more.

Grinding against your cunt slowly, grabbing and groping at your ass the entire time. He digs his nails into your skin, leaving little crescent moons. Craig rewards good behavior not with sweet words, but by giving you what you so desperately want.

He waits until you've got all of Clyde's cock in your mouth before he finally shoves your underwear down. It makes it to your knees before he just decides to leave them there. Too many times he got impatient and just ripped them off, and too many times you scolded him for it.

The hand in your hair pulls you back from his cock. Clyde moves your head back just enough to where only the tip remains, then slowly he brings you back down. Pushing you all the way down his length until your nose hits his stomach. You watch as his muscles flex under his skin like he's trying to resist letting his head lull back. He needs so badly to keep his eyes on yours, loving the attention you're giving him.

"Your mouth feels so good." He whines when he reaches the back of your throat. You gag around him, and it pulls another whimper from him.

Your hand slides down his thighs, using it to hold you up. The other hand is still being held by Clyde's grip. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding it up near his shoulder. Craig waits until Clyde rocks you back again, using the momentum to slip inside your wet folds. A pleased hum rumbles from his chest. You can feel it from how he's pressing his entire body against yours.

Just as slowly as Clyde moves your head, Craig pushes further into your cunt. The two find a slow and steady rhythm with one another. When Craig snaps his hips against you, it pushes Clyde's cock further down your throat. Your moans vibrating around him causing him to moan loudly in return. Clyde's whimpers and whines get louder when you dig your nails into his thighs. In return the grip on your hair is tightened. Creating this delicious cycle of pleasure.

"Baby, please. I wanna fuck your throat. You gonna let me? I need it so bad, please." Clyde's begging spurs something in you. Gives you the feeling of control even if you’re physically stuck between the two. From the beads of sweat that trail down his body and the way his body is shaking, you know he's at his limit.

You're able to pull back just enough, his cock springs up with a little bounce. Craig slows down just enough to let you talk, but you can tell he's not happy about it. The way his grip on your shirt tightens, you're sure he'll rip it soon.

"If I snap my fingers, you stop, okay?" You say giving him the okay. He caresses your face and presses a kiss onto your face, letting you know he understands the boundaries you've set.

At first, he's careful when he pushes his cock back into your mouth. You reward him with a swirl of your tongue, rubbing against the veins that are popping out.

"He's so needy." Craig huffs as he leans back up. The assault on your neck stops, but he's left it covered in bright red and purple marks. No amount of makeup will cover up what he's done.

You don't need to see him to know that he's smirking at it. Taking pride in the fact that he's marked you up. Or the pride making Clyde blush from his comment.  Craig's hips snap back into you, the force much sharper than his previous lazy thrusts. They're calculated, each time he pushes deep inside you he hits that spot that has you seeing stars. Clyde's hips take up the same pace, shoving his cock into the back of your throat.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. Moans turn to muffled cries, yet everything feels too good to stop. They're rough paced fucking brings your mind to a haze. All you can focus on is feeling good and making them feel good.

Craig's close, you can tell from the way he starts to lose rhythm. He's having a harder time controlling those grunts and growls. A hard time not leaving bruises on your skin from how rough he's holding onto you. He's long since let your shirt go, instead grabbing onto the back of the couch. But he waits until he feels that familiar clench around his cock. The way your walls clamp down around him as you cum. The only warning being the high-pitched muffled moan that gets swallowed by Clyde.

His hips slam into you one more time before he pulls out. Grabbing the base of his cock, he shoots that hot thick load onto your back. Heavy amounts of cum drip down your spine making you whine and shiver. Clyde can't take his eyes off the way his partner paints your backside. It makes a trail of drool slip down his chin.

The poor man can't do it anymore, he can't stop his eyes from rolling up to the back of his head. Not when your moans vibrate up him and your throat tightens from choking on him. He needs this release.

"I'm gonna cum baby. Please, let me cum. Let me cum in your mouth." Clyde all but cries in between panting. His begging dissolves into your name and the word please over and over again.

His flickering eyes catch yours again. It's when you give him a little wink and a hum, his cock violently twitches and cum spills from his tip. His cum is sweeter than normal, it makes it easier to swallow.

Slowly he pulls out of your mouth with one final whimper. It isn't until Craig swipes his thumb over his cheek that you realize he had tears streaming down them. Clyde presses his cheek into Craig's hand and lets out a pleased sigh. Once he knows Clyde is okay, Craig stands up and goes to get a towel to help clean your back. He does the same to your face, swiping away the left-over tears.

"Feeling better?" Clyde asks as he helps pull your underwear up. "Nice and relaxed?"

You nod and rest your head against his chest. "You've got good ideas sometimes."

"I've got wrinkles on my brain." He smirks to himself, taking your little praise miles.

Craig comes back after tossing the towel in the dirty laundry with a large blanket. He throws it over both of you before climbing in next to you. He lays his head down on Clyde's and grabs the tv remote.

"Kitchen Nightmare or Hell’s Kitchen?"

"Kitchen Nightmares! I need some petty British accents after my orgasm denial!"

You scrunch up your nose at Clyde’s comment. Almost wanting to pull back. "Smooth brain behavior."

"Smooth brain behavior." Craig chimes in.

The three of you relax into the couch, almost ready for the group nap that comes with the afterglow of love making. That is until inspiration strikes you again. Your eyes light up and you go to wiggle out of their hold. But Craig's arms are faster, they keep you firm against his chest. Clyde's hands come down a moment later, cupping your hips.

"Nope. You're staying right here."

"Guys! No! I just figured out how I'm gonna get that chapter finished! You gotta let me go! I gotta do it!" Your pleads are wasted, like they're not even heard.

"No. You're warm and I'm tired."

"That's not my fault or my problem."

"I'm making it your problem. Sit still."

"You know Tucker bear isn't going to let go. You're fighting a losing battle babe." Craig at least has the decency to let Clyde finish before pinching him. You know Clyde's nickname for him makes him grumpy. His little yelp makes you giggle.

"Fine....at least until you fall asleep."

"Look if you think you can get out of his hold, then be my guest. You earned it at that point." Clyde's smirk returns. He throws his leg over yours and tucks it in between Craig's knees.

"Fuck you." Your eyes narrow up at him. He's not as slick as he thinks he is, trying to cage you in with a sleepy Craig.

"Again? So soon. You're insatiable babe. Let us recover first." Clyde presses a kiss into the top of your head, pulling back before you can headbutt him.

His hand guides your head back down onto his chest and he just chuckles. It doesn't take long before Craig is passed out with his head nuzzled into the curve of your waist. Holding you like a teddy bear against his chest. Clyde's smile grows when he sees you trying to fight off sleep. But it eventually takes you and you lose the battle. He turns the tv down just a bit, deciding to join the both of you.

That chapter can wait another day.

[ahhhwomen]

Not A Toy?

Trigger Happy AU

Part 3

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Ik ik, everything has been written in very excruciating detail so far, this one being no exception, but I promise I'm going to up the speed and intensity very soon. Also, I am sorry if this one is a bit rushed, I just wanted to get it out there. Def not my favorite chapter...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language; all mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Kidnapping, murder, Mommy kink, smut, pet play, death (not main characters), framed murder, violence, drugging, angst, obsession, dub-con/rape-con | Minors DNI 18+

Warnings Part 3: Mommy kink, stalker Wanda, kidnapping (?), slightly stupid reader

Summary: Maybe you are more to Wanda than just a Toy.

Word Count: 1157

Your apartment had never been the best. When you moved in, months prior, that much became apparent. It was filthy, small, and there were large gaps between some of the floorboards. However, money was tight after you were cut off from your family, and the neighborhood wasn’t the worst. So, you took what you could.

You had lived there for all of 2 weeks before you got a roommate. In those 2 weeks, you tried to make it more pleasant and feel more like home. You got a carpet to hide the large gaps, you moved the furniture to make it feel like more space, and you deep cleaned.

As you came to learn, Jessica didn’t care much for that sort of stuff. Between college, working a part-time job, having a boyfriend, and loving parties, Jessica was barely even there. She had never bothered to do much around the apartment, she never cleaned, and never took any interest in changing things around.

It's therefore safe to say you are a bit confused as you take in the scene in front of you.

Why is your coach upside down?

You have no clue how you didn’t see it until now. It wasn’t like you, you had always praised yourself on your observation skills.

That damn policewoman was doing a number on you.

You are just about to pull your phone out when you hear a creak, another issue with the floorboards. The sound came from Jessica's room.

Your apartment has felt off ever since you came home, but now it feels like you are somewhere else entirely. Suddenly everything was colder, and your skin prickles with chills.

Your feet slowly inch closer to Jessica's door, trying to stay silent, and your hands push gently on the handle. Sweat runs down your back and you hold your breath, the tension is heavy in the air. With the handle down, you being to put a slight weight into the door. The door creaks open to reveal….

Nothing.

Your eyes scan the room, everything the same as when you left this morning. You let out a shaky breath, relieved, you close the door again.  

You remind yourself to send a quick text to your roommate about the furniture rearrangement before you walk back to the bathroom.

///////

Wanda bites back a groan as the door presses lightly against her. She can hear your hands shaking against the handle.

She had meant to get out before you came home, but you turn out to be a fast walker.

After her work was done for the day Wanda had spent a substantial amount of time tracking this roommate of yours. She was a busy girl. She worked at a local diner most of the week but had Mondays and Wednesdays off. She hung out with her boyfriend, that lived 2 blocks away, almost every day. She took a liking to people, always having to be around someone. She seemed to be your complete opposite.

By what intel Wanda gathered, you were a quiet girl, who liked to keep to yourself. You were sweet and always willing to help, but large groups of people made you uncomfortable.

You were perfect. Well-mannered, sweet, lonely. A good girl.

Hers.

Wanda is good at hiding her less savory side. Obsessive behavior never looked good on paper. She had only ever allowed herself to indulge in smaller doses. However, Wanda couldn’t just fuck this urge out with a random pretty girl she picked up like she was used to.

No.

Wanda needed you.

She needs to have you, nurse you, fuck you. She needs to hold you, have you wrapped around her like the little kitten you are. Hers, and only hers.

She just needed to push you a little.

So, she did what anyone would do, and began staging her crime scene.

Your apartment wasn’t exactly big, so how would a big fight play out in such a small space? Wanda was testing your living room when she heard your keys jingle in the hallway.

“I’m home!”

Wanda smiled a little.

You must have been so sleepy. There was a little crack in the door Wanda could look at you through, and you walked right passed the flipped coach and started getting your dinner ready. Wanda had to hold back a disapproving sigh as you picked up a microwavable dinner.

You were a growing girl who requires proper sustenance. Not, whatever was in those plastic tubs.

As the timer on the microwave counted down, you looked lost in thought. Wanda wondered what you were thinking about as your teeth sank into your lip, your scrunched-up nose indicating you were worried. Wanda's hands griped the door, if something was bothering her girl, it bothered Wanda.

Luckily you snapped out of it rather fast and got to eating.

You occur to be quite the messy eater. It was adorable the way you would huff in annoyance as the table became smothered in your mess.

Wanda made a mental note to always feed you on a mat. She didn’t want her floors to be stained like your table was.

You stood up.

Wanda couldn’t get a proper view of the bathroom from where she stood. She had intended on moving just a little bit to the left when her foot hit a loose tile.

Shit!

Wanda could hear you try to sneak over to the door, and she saw the handle slowly move downwards. If she made even the tiniest of noises Wanda knew the gig would be over. She pressed herself into the wall and held her breath.

You paused for a second when the door was almost all the way open. Wanda could hear you sigh. Then close the door again.

You make your way back to the bathroom.

Wanda stands there baffled for a second before sneaking out when she picks up the water running.

Who doesn’t open the door all the way when they think an intruder is in the house?

You just have to be happy it was only Wanda.

///////

“SOMEONE PLEASE!” The filth sobs as her voice echoes back to her.

Wanda smirks.

Don’t worry, it will all be over very soon.

[nee-biter]

Miguel x Peter x Reader x Jess? 😍

Thanks for the ask, anon! 🫶 So uh.. prepare yourselves 😭?

Internship Things | Miguel x Peter B x Reader x Jess

You are Jess's mentee, Miguel's sugar baby, and Peter B's mistress all the while trying to complete your internship hours 😮‍💨

Warnings: transactional relationships, sharing is caring, cunnilingus, consensual non-con, degradation, age gap, cheating, honestly it's just dirty

Your university was one of the most prestigious in Nueva York and had ties with both the local government and the local superhuman establishments.

Being one of the top students in your course, political science, you were tasked to survey and work in an institution of your choice; for whatever reason, you chose to intern at Spider Society.

How did you know Miguel O'Hara? He told you they don't accept interns. "There's no room for a regular girl like you." When you insisted, arguing that all institutions can benefit from having their systems looked into, he offered to sign your documents and pay for your tuition if you just shut that pretty mouth of yours and become a decoration in his office.

Maybe he was joking, so you spat back. He didn't like that.

How did you know Jessica Drew? That same day in that same office, she caught Miguel inside you, your panties balled up and stuffed in your mouth. His cum on your stomach, but he was still pumping it deep in you; your hands were wrapped around his neck and your eyes rolled back—couldn't escape him but also couldn't resist him. Jessica watched, turned on by her secrecy behind the door before she eventually came in and yanked you off from him. "Stop breeding girls like cattle, Miguel. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll treat you better."

She was such a caring yet stern mentor that you could forgive her if she sometimes had the need to lick your clit over and over again until you squirt on her mouth. After a long day of her missions and your paperwork, she would knock at your work space.

How did you know Peter B Parker? You caught him making out with Miguel on your way to inspect the weapons archive, so now you had to be in on their secret. And having only one secret to keep isn't enough, you had to be their little play thing now.

Miguel tempted Peter B to take you. For some reason Peter B can cheat on his wife with a man, but gets faint at the idea of fucking another pussy. Peter B gently assured you could trust him and so, when he finally touched you—a soft hand on your hip—you leaned into his touch and became pliable to his kisses. From your neck, to your collarbones, until your clothes have come off and his lips were on your breasts then your wet cunt.

"I'm sorry, baby, what's your name again?" Of course he only asked that once his cock was already inside you.

You were only three weeks into your internship, but the amount of times your pussy has been used between the three of them could not be counted on your ten fingers.

Sometimes, Peter B would make small talk with you and tell you all about his wonderful daughter that you'd been wanting to meet. But then the next minute, he would sit you down a couch and start fingering you, one of your tits being suckled by him. He asked you once, "Am I the oldest man you've ever had? I swear I won't be shocked."

On some days, Miguel would call you into his lab with a pathetic excuse like 'needing outsider perspective.' It's code for needing you on your knees, sucking him good but never once pleasing you back. As he buries his cock in your throat, Miguel would pinch your nose, further tormenting you. He likes to use you and he's making that clear. "You're my personal slut, I own you. I pay you."

Honestly, you have Jess to thank for taking care of you at the end of any day. She invited you to her universe once and rented a hotel room—"call it a work-related field trip." She would run a bath for both of you, ask about your day, before your two bodies would intertwine. She'd have you lean on the wall, leg up, as she lapped your juices. She'd have you on the bed, exploring positions until you're eventually spent and gasping for air. "Thank god you chose this place to work in. Can't live without mommy's princess."

When your school asks you what you had been doing in Spider Society, maybe just lie?

[desertdollranch]

Opening and reviewing my first Australian Girl doll

She spent more than a month in a box, making her way halfway across the world to her new home, and now here she is! I'm so relieved that she arrived safely. It was the longest I've ever had to wait for a doll, and through much of her journey I didn't know where she was or when she would be here.

I don't want to drop too big of a spoiler, but listen to this........ she was so worth the wait, and the money. This doll instantly won my heart with how exquisite she is in every way.

Australian Girl dolls were specially made for Australian children, by Helen Schofield, a grandmother who loved dolls. She created the brand when she couldn't find an age appropriate doll that was locally available or good quality. So she created these dolls to help children feel pride in Australian culture, while teaching them about friendship and empathy. There are five girls to befriend--Amy, Jasmine, Emily, Bronte, and Matilda, each representing a different region of the country, ethnicity, and lifestyle.

The company itself has quite high standards. They strive to reduce waste in their product packaging, and they use a factory in China that treats its workers humanely and does not use child labor.

If you've been around my blog for a while, you know how much I love collecting diverse brands and types of play dolls, especially international dolls. Also, this one will be extra special because I actually have an Australian grandmother--she's also a doll collector, and I'm looking forward to showing her my new doll the next time I see her.

After the cut, I'll show you who she is, and talk about why I chose her. I'll compare her with similar-sized dolls as well, and have her do some dressing up.

Before we get to the unboxing, let's check out the little goodies included with my doll.

First is a little pamphlet explaining why the dolls are special, but also represent real girls growing up in Australia.

There's another pamphlet about how to care for your doll.

All of the dolls come with a fun freebie: this cute pair of thongs.

Another freebie (a $30 AUD value) is this very sturdy doll carrier with pockets for accessories.

I also bought a pair of sneakers for my new girl. I figured her feet would be a bit larger than my other dolls, and these are cute, so she now has three pairs of shoes to wear.

Anyway. Enough of the small stuff. Let's let her out of the box.

It's Amy from Adelaide!

I chose Amy after three entire years of being indecisive and going back and forth on exactly which Australian Girl I wanted. They're all equally adorable, so I picked Amy because her personality seems very sweet, and I love that she has mixed heritage. According to the Austrlaian Girl dolls website, Amy's family tree is a mix of Aboriginal and Dutch on her mother's side, and English and Indian/Fijian on her father's side. Very representative of modern Australia!

I have no regrets. She is perfect!!! Just the most charming little angel. I am officially WOWED.

I'm seriously impressed at the superior quality of her construction. I understand why she was priced a bit higher than similar dolls. She is, from head to toe, beautifully made, with so many sweet details. Her dress and shoes are also impeccably made and feel very durable.

Her hair is flawless. It's a Kanekalon wig with loose curls, in a gorgeous shade of brown. Her eyes open and close. She has both painted and attached eyelashes.

She has a gap between her big toe and the next toe, so she can wear her sandals and thongs.

Her elbows are dimpled and she has subtle blush color on parts of her skin, including elbows and hands.

She has a crease across her palm.

She has articulation at her shoulders, hips, and neck. Her limbs, head, and shoulders are vinyl, and she has a huggable soft tummy. I don't really have a strong preference for either cloth torsos, vinyl torsos, or half and half like Amy. They all have pros and cons. This specific construction is nice in that she can wear low-neckline clothes without showing a cloth body, but it does make her harder to repair in case she has to be fixed.

I have a pretty good idea of what she'll be wearing when she's ready to change out of her pink party dress.

The first photo shows her in a dress I made. The second is a Maplelea dress and hat. The rest are all American Girl brand clothing, except for the shoes. Amy can comfortably wear most stretchy clothes by AG and similar brands like Our Generation, but her feet absolutely will not fit AG, OG, or Maplelea shoes.

The exception to the clothes is some of the tighter pieces. This AG shirt did not fit well. Amy's shoulders are a bit more broad than smaller dolls, and so without some extra give this is too tight.

Amy is 20 inches/51 centimeters tall. Here she is next to my Our Generation doll Jordana. I'm using an OG doll because they're actually available locally in Australia. Whereas American Girl dolls, which I usually use when I compare brands, have to make an overseas journey. So it's only fair that I consider any Australians reading this now who are wondering how Amy compares.

Amy is tall, but not the tallest doll in the family! Here she is next to Fernanda, my Karito Kids doll, who is about an inch taller although slimmer. Karito Kids dolls are in fact just slightly skinnier than American Girl dolls, so they have a much easier time sharing clothes.

In conclusion, I highly highly recommend this doll. She's absolutely sublime! I'm so thrilled to have her here, and I'm looking forward to having lots of adventures with her.

Obviously I'm far from Australia, but my Amy will still live her life as if she were in a suburb outside of the city of Adelaide. I've been looking at pictures of the geography of the state of South Australia, and there are some places in the mountainous parts that look pretty similar to the desert southwest where I live. So Amy will have no idea she's actually in the USA. Don't tell her the truth!

[essayofthoughts]

So back at the start of the year I was tagged in a "what are you reading this year" kind of tag game and we're halfway into the year and I've read... well three of the books on that list, but 9 new books total! Plus I saw @tobermoriansass post a "books wot I read in june 2025" which prompted me to finish up Doom Sword at last, so I'm doing this update. Books with an asterisk are from the original list.

So, thus far this year, I have read:

Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao - excellent sequel to Iron Widow, Zetian is indeed ready and willing to tear the sky down, the new deuteragonist is his own flavour of bi disaster who makes me want to commit Violents, Zetian stop making mistakes with him please, I get you’re still a reckless teenager but you really do deserve better. If you want Chinese elemental mechs with leftist politics and bickering over the best way to do things, a disabled poly main character, and a Lot of Anger, read this!

The Book of Ile-Rien by Martha Wells - Got into Martha Wells with Murderbot. Found out she did fantasy with Witch King and Books of the Raksura. Am now diving through her backlog for more. Very much enjoyed the setting of this and just the way that Wells approaches magic in general - mysterious advanced science, obscure to outsiders and not always fully understood by insiders. It very effectively makes magic seem magical, and it’s very cool.

Shadow’s Heart by Kresley Cole - So this is fantasy erotica. Kresley Cole’s Immortals After Dark is one of my guilty pleasure series, and some of the only non-fandom erotica I read. It is littered with issues, dub-con-y sex, overly pushy leads, hetero bullshit- I could go on. However,the worldbuilding and order of events stays consistent across multiple books which are happening in overlapping times. I'm 99% sure this woman has a spreadsheet. For a fantasy erotica series. This one had less than usual of the “we shouldn’t but we’re so horny” sex, and broadly, I enjoyed it!

Witchcraft: a History in 13 Trials by Marion Gibson* - So while I was wary at the start, the book does pick up and do better as it goes on. It gives an interesting look at various witch trials (including one fictional one), of both men and women. I do think its final conclusion is a little weak - it could talk about how gender conformity is an avenue by which “witches” have been attacked - but it does serve as a good introduction to recognising witch hunt tactics.

Horus Rising by Dan Abnett* - Recommended by someone in my book group after I made them read some Imperial Radch for similar "part of an imperial war machine and blinkered because of that" aspects. Better than anticipated! Also. Why do so many 40k people claim the fascist Imperium is the only way for humanity to survive “the grim darkness of the far future”? The interex was right there! 

Hellboy II: The Golden Army Novelisation by Robert Greenberger - So. I love this film. I’ve loved it for years, and it’s part of what got me obsessed with basically everything Guillermo del Toro has ever made. So when I saw this in the local comics shop, going for £1, obviously I bought it immediately. It was not even a question. It’s certainly not the best of the GDT novelisations I’ve read (Shape of Water is that for me) but it’s effective and helps to round out a few scenes with a bit more character insight!

The Poison Garden: An A-Z of Poisonous Plants by the Alnwick Garden - Many years ago my family went on a camping trip up through Yorkshire and Northumberland, and one of the places we visited was Alnwick Castle and Garden. The Garden is what’s especially notable: they have a poison garden. As a weird nut who loves old herbals and folklore, obviously, I loved this. Every now and again I get myself another herbal or poison book, just out of sheer curiosity at the many ways in which nature will try to kill you.

Death in the Garden by Michael Brown - … Look, I like books about herbs and poisonous plants. I find their history interesting! Where the last was kind of a brisk run through various poisonous plants and how they’ll horribly kill you, this is full of more anecdotes, both the author’s own run-ins with plants and stories from history and previous herbals and apothecaries. Very interesting, if littered with more than its fair share of typos.

Doom Sword by Peter Beere* - As I said in my “what are you reading this year” post, I read this once as a child. It’s… yeah about what I remember, which is to say Pretty Bland. It’s very clearly a LOTR retelling for an 8-12 year old bookish boy where the One Ring is a Cool Sword instead of a Ring. There’s even an evil spider fight and black riders chasing them across the map. The only cool bit is that the main character isn’t a hobbit but is a teenage boy from Norfolk who got isekai’d into the world. No, I’m not joking.

Anyway, if anyone else wants to ramble about books they've read so far this year - @davidstirlings, maybe? @secretaryofthebirds? - feel free and tag me if this is what prompted you to do so! I shall continue reading through my booklist and report back later.

[life-winners-liveblog]

Is or deer boy implying we make a deal?... A deal with destiny mayhaps???? (sorry I had too)

How about this

Once apon a time in a land known only to the sages of the past there was a kind man. The man had fled from his home from a tirant king that wished death on him and his family.

The man had been blessed with a new start and used it to create a vast safe space, a Sanctuary for all those without a home.

His love and kindness attracted the attention of 3 local gods.

A god of the stories passed around by large and small, from the tiniest of bugs to the most powerful of rulers

A god of the sun, his radiance spanning from one corner of the earth to the other

And the goddess of harvest, her love spanning through every kernel of corn or pop of wheat, feeding everyone she has placed under her protection.

The gods appeared before the kind man one by one, each showering the man with gifts and promises, hoping that the man would pledge his loyalty them.

The God of stories creating a son in his image, if the man raised him with love and compassion the child would go on to do great things the God promised

The God of the sun promised him the power to destroy all those who would ever threaten the beautiful lands of the Sanctuary

And the last goddess of harvest promised to protect the land with bountiful harvest each year for the lost souls who stumble apon the land seeking a new start.

The man, without skipping a beat, pledged his loyalty to the goddess, promising to never stray from his goal of giving homes to those who are like he once was.

....

Then there was something with a bunny man who happens to be his dad and a bard and stuff but that's a story for another time.... Now tell us another story

-Neth

Scott: Oh? A sun god?

Scar: The only sun god I know is BdoubleO!

Scott: WHAT?!?

Scar: Oh yeah we had this meetup with Empires and Bdubs came back a sun god.

Grian: I... uh...

Scott:... So then I shall recount a story as well! Since yours was so god heavy I am going to choose a story from: A collection of tales of Gods and Monster by Soliana Scarlet Terzed, first court writer of the fourth reign.

Grian: Do you remember all of that...by memory? Why?

Scott: When I was a child it was the book I used to learn how to read and write, I know every bit of it.

Scar: Cool!

Scott: So this is the story of the birth of Aeor himself so you might have heard of it?

Scar: Nope!

Grian: Yeah, no.

Scott: Ok, so, Aeor is the son of Clara, the goddess of space, his father is uncertain but what we do know is that Destiny despised his half brother to the point he declared that Clara would not birth any more children in the future.

Grian: Already sounds like a bit of an ass...

Scott: First Clara went to one of her grandaughters: The goddess of birth but even she could not go against Destinys law. And so she had an idea, she went to Wendarr, the god of time himself, with a request to allow her to give birth at a time before Destinys order. Wendarr tought and tought of the pros and cons until he came up with an offer, Clara would play a game of cards against him and if she won she would be able to give birth... The game lasted a long long time with Wendarr seeing Claras plays in the future and Clara omnipresence making her able of seeing Wendarrs cards. After days and days of playing however, Wendarr in part tired and in part convinced by her points purposely looses putting an end to the game and letting Clara win and finally give birth to Aeor and Exor. Destiny embarassed by his loss eventually agreed to go back on his edict and Clara had many more children.

[watchtheblog]

Cutting Slack

hello to the hierarchy of my besties: irl besties, internet besties, fantasy besties; the hierarchy of my haters: just the three of you, followed by someone who goes by the alias k.s on google reviews; an ever dwindling number of exes who can read, a handful of people i���m just getting to know who are about to know me too well too fast, and anyone else who has stumbled upon this highly specific page on the internet!!

if you’ve been here before, you know the deal. i’m going to weave a web of little jokes into a somewhat coherent story and then as a reward for knowing me you get the opportunity to see 20 things i hope to receive for my birthday, which, i hope you know… is tomorrow (26 september); i’m turning 94.

The joke web:

In february 2023 after the company I co-created sold to one of the corniest companies on the planet, I quit because they wanted me to set forth eight hours a day I would be available to do work. Seven years into a job I’d put 8 hours a year into, this was a startling task.

Also, they wanted me to become a member of slack, or get on slack, or write to them in slack. Or do something, whatever one does, on slack. You can do a lot of things to me, but what you’re not gonna do is make me go on slack. Many have tried in the past and not a one has ever succeeded.

Not to sound like Mark Cuban - or myself in [redacted] years -  but an 8 hour workday was not for me. And I explained this. I told a woman alleging to be my supervisor that every morning I woke up, I did cult for 20 minutes, wrote in my journal for 45 minutes, went for a 1 hour walk, came home, showered, drank a little poison, read for one hour in my garden, did some dilly dallying on the internet, and then I went to an appointment*, and by the time I was done with all of that it was already 4pm and that’s wind down time in my culture. 

Where did she want me to find 8 hours?!

(*i realize appointment time is not a thing (everyone can understand) but I’m gonna have to save it for another post. appointment time is sacred in a directionless little bug’s life and it deserves to be explained properly.)

If you think I’m joking that I laid out this schedule to a woman who was born inside a human resources complaint folder and whose dearly departed soul resides within a ludicrously capacious bag somewhere, I beg you to get to know me better.

Fundamentally, she did not understand and spiritually I was not the messenger to enlighten her, so I decided to quit.

I am impulsive by nature but this decision was incredibly thought out. I wrote down a list of pros and cons and I titled the cons list “things I’m not aligned with” and I listed 11 things.

“I dont want to be managed!!!!!!” (this is a literal copy and paste) topped the chart.

To follow? “Corporate weirdness”, and, simply: “Slack”.

On the pros list I wrote: “Freedom”, “I will finally be free”. (LOL!) Underneath it, it says “Take a fucking risk.”

I sat with these lists for approximately three minutes, and then I wrote an email announcing my resignation. And then I quite literally never spoke to anyone there ever again.

This all leads me to one short pivot before we’ll arrive at our final destination of my birthday list. 

When I mentioned earlier that I am impulsive by nature, I mean that I quit my job because someone said there was a question posed to me in Slack and I needed to answer it came to Ohio to visit my dad’s (RIP) childhood home and my (then) girlfriend convinced me to call the number on a commercial real estate building and within 45 days I’d signed a lease and 90 days later I had packed, driven, and moved my entire life across the country. 

When I moved here, I knew no one so I did a lot of things you may think only people who are on reality dating shows do, like: go to an espresso martini making class, cook marshmallows over an open fire in a state park at night with strangers, slide down a snowy hill on a plastic saucer as an activity, or attend a local rat’s birthday party.*

*disclaimer for anyone here who doesn’t GET me bc I’m scared to be misunderstood: i loved all of these things I’m not mocking them; I’m simply holding a light to the absurdity of my *on the spectrum, agoraphobic weirdo* ass doing these things in earnest because i needed to not kms. ◡̈  kms stands for k*ll myself.*

(Of course all of these things on a reality dating show would involve two people, whereas in my case I did all of those things alone.)

As a treat for my efforts to be a member of society, the universe provided me with the unique gift of meeting the anthropomorphic version of my intrusive thoughts!! 

We’ll call her Gloria (for no reason) and in our first phone conversation she had called everyone in the state of ohio “fat, lazy and bipolar” and told me my business would fail.

One minute after we hung up, she texted asking if I wanted to sauna with her right now. Now mind you, I’ve been doing shit “for the lore” since before it was called “lore” and men were just telling me I was insane (simpler times!!) so I grabbed a bikini and drove 9 minutes ready to go in a sauna with a random lady I’d never met.

And go in a sauna with a random lady I did... fully clothed for a reason that both confused and relieved me. In that sauna, Gloria repeated the aforementioned phone topics and added a pointed “nobody wants to work out; you will fail” while staring at me in a box heated to 130 degrees.

“It’s okay. Everything is always working out for me” I told her as she persisted in her negativity, because I lacked the ability to just tell her to shut the fuck up (and also because that is true). 

I considered the possibility of her behavior coming from a good intentioned place, like when cars driving the opposite direction flash their lights to let you know they just passed a cop (as if that ever hits). I considered it was an act of humanity, one unstable woman to another; trying to save me from the hell she thought was inevitable given her own - self proclaimed - “failure”. (she had opened and closed a studio of her own.)

So I let her keep flashing her dumb lights at me, showing up to my studio uninvited in the middle of my buildout telling me I should see if my landlord would let me out of my lease, texting me little foreboding horror stories about the perils of being in the fitness industry, sending me local businesses that were closing as if to say “i told you so; i’m warning you.”

“You’ll see” she said multiple times, as if to predict my ultimate demise in a way I’d be able to reflect on in the future, remembering she’d warned me. 

In those moments and in the months of desperation and grind leading up to the opening of my business I had no other choice but to move forward blindly, confidently. Long before I met this psychopath I had prepared for the possibility of failure. Unlike this woman, however, that preparation involved the potential of having to say “I failed… now what?” rather than “I failed. I’m the rule, not the exception. The journey is impossible.”

It’s been almost two years since I left the career I thought would define me, and while I certainly haven’t failed, I’m not writing this from the other side. I’m writing this from the beginning of a long journey I’m prepared and excited to be on that began the day I decided to take a fucking risk.

Two years ago I couldn’t find 8 hours a day to work and now somehow I’ve found 14-18…

and not a single one of them has been spent on slack. 

The Gift Portion!!!  the intangible: for the dismantling of nextdoor dot com, for all my bad memories to be erased, to win the war against seed oils, for the ai to stop(!!!), that the person who sullied my google reviews finds God and healing bc going against me is a form of psychosis, for great deals on this upcoming amazon prime day, that natalia grace is ok, that i never hear a telephone ring again, for watermelon to be in season all the time, that nobody is ever mad at me, that all eggs would turn to donuts in a way that would not have negative implications for chickens or negative repercussions for farmers, that everyone bounces back from whatever inevitable side effects ozempic will have, that my frequently used emoji are all safe and sound after getting rearranged, and for everyone I know and love to read the source by dr tara swart, and that they are all happy, healthy, successful, and in love forever.

the ones you can buy: these shoes (size 38)  or these shoes (size 38) also these (and you guessed it! 38) i want to fix my brain here, a casual five day immersive neurofeedback experience this watch this large suitcase or this one i cant pick this gorgeana kind of urgently, this these shoes (great deal alert!!!!) (size 38) i think the trajectory of my life would change if i owed four of these and maybe some other things to go with it big year for shoes … huge a stunning linen spray this practical thing her this or something else from her(e) these, white, small also kind of urgently, these this definitely the max mara teddy coat in the absolute smallest size and this is the last time I’m gonna put it here!!!!!! ykto!!! (lol!!)

[tlbodine]

Overthinking: Return of the Mummy

Phew. I got sick there for a little while and the world is a dumpster fire but I am BACK and like hell I am going to stop reading Goosebumps books at this hour of despair. Suck it, void.

Ahem. Anyway - Return of the Mummy is the second sequel we've encountered. It's #23, released in September of '94, and I don't recall having read this one as a kid. It's a good time, though, building on most of what was fun about the first Mummy book without feeling too much like a total rehash or the premise.

First, the Plot:

After the thrilling events of last year (which we allude to vaguely but never spell out), Gabe is back in Egypt to visit his Uncle Ben the archaeologist, who is on the cusp of another huge pyramid discovery. Also there is, of course, Gabe's cousin Sari, home from boarding school for the summer and as much of a competitive pain as ever.

New on the scene, though, is a reporter named Nila who thinks Ben is just the coolest, and he's definitely picking up what she's putting down. She trails along to witness their pyramid discovery and also hangs out around camp, flirting with Ben. Gabe still has his little mummy-hand summoner from last time, but he also has an amber pendant with a scarab in it that his uncle gave him. It looks just like a pendant Nila has that doesn't have a scarab, which surely will not come up again.

Ben's research partner is wary about opening up the tomb since there's a warning on it saying pretty clearly "Let me rest in peace" but Ben forges ahead anyway. They uncover a mummy and a ton of treasure, and research partner returns to the scene with local cops to secure the dig site even though Ben thinks that's unnecessary.

As they're celebrating, Nila casually asks if Ben knows about the secret words that are supposed to awaken the mummy if you recite them five times, and he recites them because he is a proper scientist who would never believe in superstitions and still has some plausible deniability from last year.

Gabe, who's been pranked repeatedly by Sari at this point, decides to get back at her by reciting the words five times. Right on time, they witness Ben's research partner seemingly man-handling him into the pyramid, and then leaving without him. Freaked out by this, they sneak into the pyramid and find Ben, unconscious and shoved into the mummy's sarcophagus. The mummy is shuffling around. EEK!

And lo and behold, who should show up on the scene but Nila, who -- we are all very shocked to learn this -- is actually a 3,000 year old priestess who has been spending her time as a scarab hiding in amber this whole time but now is here to hang out with her reanimated brother-mummy. Brother is pretty pissed about this turn of events (he TOLD HER to let him rest in peace!) and tries to kill her, but Gabe manages to intervene after retrieving his summoner from her (she stole it earlier). Shenanigans ensue, she turns back into a beetle and runs off, we put the mummy to bed and Ben wakes up in time to explain everything. Turns out he started to suspect Nila, but before he could actually confront her, she'd already awakened the mummy, and also his partner is a stand-up dude who went to get help. Happy endings all around and Gabe definitely did NOT feel the scarab moving around in his amber pendant that night, of course not....

Overthinking It:

This sequel doesn't hard ret-con anything like Monster Blood II, but it does skim past most of the first book's events, probably so that book isn't spoiled. It's a pretty clever way to handle a sequel in a series that can be read in any order.

Once again, I think Uncle Ben may be my favorite Goosebumps grown-up. He learned his lesson from last time and doesn't let these kids out of his sight or trust them with any assistants. He's a little love-blind, but he also hasn't had a woman in his life for over a decade so can you blame him? And when the time comes to do the right thing, he lets the evidence speak for itself and dumps Nila so...go Uncle Ben. Love that guy.

I also think Gabe and Sari have a great dynamic. They're almost as fun as Evan and Andy from the Monster Blood series. I really enjoy the competitive cousin angle, and the way they are frenemies. Sari is a particularly nuanced character for this series. She's confident and bossy and brags all the time but you can see straight through to the cracks in her self-esteem. Deep down Sari is absolutely desperate to connect with her dad and be good enough to soak up the attention he can offer.

The romance with Ben and Nila is understated but definitely there, and it's frankly a bigger villain in the story than the mummy. Deep down, this book is less about "what if mummy came alive" than it is "what if dad gets a new girlfriend but she sucks," and that is so intensely relatable.

If You Enjoyed This, THESE Will Really Give You Goosebumps:

Obviously go read The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb and enjoy all the film recommendations I gave for that one, because they're relevant here too.

I'd also like to suggest Candyman, both the original and its reboot, but a different take on the "vengeful dead guy who comes back if you say something five times" trope. That may sound like a stretch but I really did keep flipping back to that in my mind while reading this one.

By the way, I just recently discovered there's a new Egyptian-themed horror game called Amenti. I haven't played it, but I'm intrigued. Anybody have any experience with that one?

[budapestistanbul25]

Wednesday 18th June

Today is another big day with a scenic drive (if you discount the usual traffic issues caused mainly by road and bridge repairs) into the mountains to go to the first King of Romania King Karol’s summer palace. It is called Peleş Palace in Sinaia (named after Mt Sinai). King Karol was a Prussian asked to come and be King. He was young. His nephew married one of the SaxCoburgs hence a link to the British monarchy. The palace is a huge tourist attraction so very busy. We had slot with the English speaking tour fortunately. However with so many tours happening it is very congested and hard to see things. We had a drama as a tour guide not associated with the palace bought a group through and she was very rude and pushy and she gave our guide no end of trouble. They ended up in a slanging match. However we let her go ahead with her group to get her out of our hair. However our guide got her own back as she arranged for the palace tours to ban her taking tour groups through ever again. Her groups will have to use palace guides while she waits ours😁. I don’t have photos as too hard in the crush. Impressive but very dark with lots dark woods, very ornate and has different themes in different rooms. They had all mod cons incl electricity, sewage, hot water,central heating,lifts. Apparently the Queen wanted all mod cons and no roughing it🤣🤣. As per every Romanian there are thousands of stairs! Some outstanding collections of China and other items. The whole place is like a mini village outside with very flash buildings used for staff and others. Also a lovely garden. They are still doing renovations though so you only see a part of the building. I bought a book on it as it was so interesting. As with everything we have seen I can’t remember all the information.

We took a 20min walk (downhill no steps😂) back to the bus.

Then we visited Rhein wine cellar from Azuga, where we had lunch as well.This place specialises in sparkling wines and uses the same process as the French Champagne makers use. This has been owned by several people over the years including being nationalised during the communist era, a British company who sold after Brexit and now a company I don’t remember but is associated with brandy?. The process is very manually managed, no big machines. Bottles are turned mixed and processed by hand. They only make about 200,000 a year and do white and rose (both sparkling). We then had yet another outstanding lunch with a tasting of both the white and red sparklings. They were both excellent but the white really excelled. I would love to describe the process but takes too much time and can be found by researching the process called Methode Champenoise.

And we ended the day with Bran castle, the castle of Dracula fame.

Again due to traffic we didn’t arrive until just before 5pm. However it worked I. Our favour as apparently it is usually terribly crowded and as the castle has small stairs and rooms it can be frustrating and we had hardly anyone there👏.unfortunately it is full of stalls and tat as you walk up selling everything from vampire and Dracula stuff to local tour stuff and food. However once you get past the ticket machine where you get tickets it is free of all that. The castle has lovely gardens and a huge lake so the setting is beautiful. It does have an atmosphere though. It was built as a defence because it was at the time on the border but as times changed as did the borders it has ended up I. The middle of modern Romania! It is a labyrinth with narrow stairs. Vlad the Impaler is associated with it and this association probably inspired the Book by Bram Stoker. It was derelict for a time and I can’t remember other owners but eventually Queen Mary who was married to King Ferdinand the nephew of King Karel (who had no living children so gave the Kingdom to his nephew whose wife Mary was a Sax Coburg and so related to the British royal family. I am a bit rocky on my English history but Mary May have been a granddaughter of Queen Victoria?. Anyway she preferred a quieter life than the Royal Palaces and wasn’t that enamoured with her husband and on seeing Bram castle asked if she could have it. As no one says no to a Queen she acquired it! She then went about modernising it with the same mod cons of the palaces (except lifts!) and added some rooms. She apparently spent a lot of time there. She had 6 children but gossip says the last 3 were not by her husband as they had lived apart effectively for years. One of her daughter spent time with her at Bran and loved it and bought her children. So Mary left the castle to this daughter and although it was nationalised during communism the children of Mary’s daughter who all 3 (2 daughters and a so )lived in USA applied to recover their inheritance after Romania after communism and got it. Only the brother survives now and Bran Castle is owned by an American!

Believe me we fell into bed that night!!

[squeemcsquee]

PeoriaCon, 2025

In 2024, we only did Sunday. For 2025, we only did Saturday, March 29 (yesterday - yeah, I'm actually doing a timely review for once). I really hope they introduce weekend-rate pricing next year, since it's a bit pricey to buy single-day tickets for 2 adults for both days ($17/person/day this year) when you consider the con is still roughly 85% vendors and artists vs 15% all the rest of con stuff.

Despite that price tag, it's clear there's a demand for the event. When @lechevaliermalfet @pseudospectre , myself, and kiddo arrived at the Peoria Civic Center about half an hour after the con started, there was a decent line to purchase admission.

I love that it shows the event is growing in popularity, because my group got there only like 30 minutes after the con started and there was a steady line for the first couple of hours whenever we looked.

There was a nice, easy-to-understand info table just outside the entry doors, after you got your plain red wristband from the box office. I heard today's were blue and I was relieved to know there were measures in place to prevent people from trying to ghost the con on Day 2.

Once inside, they had an amazing array of vendors. The Civic Center really does have decent space in the exhibit hall for events.

However, any time I've been there for a con, the gaming area sound overpowers everything else. Yesterday was no exception - there were times the audio for the game tournament made it difficult to interact with the vendors next to it as you could hardly hear them.

They did dedicate a decent amount of space to both video gaming and tabletop, which was nice to see - I feel like the two areas were fairly comparable, size-wise.

Also, shoutout to @someoldmemory and another friend of ours, "Bob", who were running a booth for their employer.

We walked away from that booth with a Labyrinth movie poster. Now I need to figure out where to display it!

It was nice to see the Ghostbusters return to the con again, and their vehicle was an obvious photo draw for many attendees. I wouldn't be shocked if Scott Inness' booth also attracted a lot of photo ops, with or without the guest himself. I don't think I've ever been to an event where a guest of honor had such an impressive booth.

Speaking of guests, I did think they had a decent variety within the small handful that they had and I did overhear a group of attendees mention that they'd travelled 3 hours just for one of their members to get a voice actor autograph. PeoriaCon's size means that no celebrity line was ever too long if you wanted an opportunity for a photo or autograph, though I passed on those this year.

The designated panel area was far smaller, maybe with seats for about 25-30ish people? I admit, that's not unreasonable for a con this size, based on my experience. But the curtain walls and microphones for the panelists didn't always do *quite* enough to combat the noise from the gaming tournament. I ended up passing on most of the panels for this reason, only dropping in on the Ghostbusters Peoria one at 2pm. Local author Sylvia Shults was one of the panelists and she has done many local cons over the years. I'll always enjoy hearing her stories on the old state asylum.

But to backtrack before that...kiddo is now 14 months old and she was *not* tolerating the noise-cancelling headphones that she wore at Anime Aki Con in 2024. And she wasn't interested in sleeping through the event, like she did for PeoriaCon 2024. So we had a grumpy baby for the majority of the day. I actually had to take her out of the con floor and into the food vendor / dining area to attempt to quiet her. Our group ended up having an early-ish lunch of overpriced snack / quick food (popcorn, hotdogs, burgers, nachos, you get the gist) as that was what was on hand.

@lechevaliermalfet and I *tried* to get overpriced sodas from the vending machines and that promptly card our cards flagged for fraud.

So that led to a fun 30 minutes on the phone with the credit union in the middle of our con day. In the end, the poor rep couldn't figure out why the machines were flagging as fraud (he had me try using the cards while I was on the phone with him after I verified the transactions). Our debit card was unlocked, the credit card was escalated to the risk team and I was advised to avoid using it and to visit an ATM to get cash out instead.

Well, we tried to find the silver lining that we would absolutely be forced to really consider our con swag for this year and so it was totally fine that we had to keep circulating the vendors to keep the grumpy baby calm. Because it meant we *really* got to consider our options.

Like coffee. Cosplay ducks. Art galore. Local authors. Jewelry makers. And more!

Yeah, it was hard making choices. I did end up with some of that coffee, because the vendors were lovely people and they had free hot samples of many of the flavors. Probably spent a good 10 minutes at their booth talking to them. They're Itasha Coffee and they'll be at Acen 2025 and Anime Magic 2025.

There was a robotics demo in the con hall to observe as well.

Problem is, kiddo wasn't interested in staying still in any area. And at one point, she was cranky enough we again chose to leave the con hall. This time, we decided to attempt an ATM so that I could have some cash on hand. More bad news. The ATM (which was connected to our credit union) was refusing transactions. Cue another phone call to said credit union, and another 15 minutes on the phone with a rep looking into the issue. Turns out, that ATM had lost signal and wasn't processing *any* transactions. I wonder how many attendees ran into that issue...

Well, we had at least one working card. We went back in and finished our shopping. Then, when the cosplay competition came around, @lechevaliermalfet walked our daughter around the con floor in the stroller while I watched the contest.

I'd say the cosplay contest was probably a personal highlight for me. Saturday's was the Craftsmanship contest. Lots of awesome cosplays on display and many contestants really threw themselves into portraying their chosen character. I love that the contest has grown so large over the years that it can be divided as it was, over 2 days and between Craftsmanship (Sat) and Youth (Sun). And that Craftsmanship was further divided into the Novice, Journeyman, and Master categories. I also appreciated that there was a Judges' Choice and a Best in Show option, in addition to the 1st place for each category. (It was hard to get photos of the winners going up, sorry!)

I was surprised that Best in Show and Judges' Choice went to the same contestant - and that's no shade on them! Their cosplay was very well put together and far surpasses anything I've done over my con attending years. I know every contest has its own criteria and people can win multiple awards; I'm just used to Judges' Choice being awarded to those who didn't meet the criteria for any other award but that the judges still felt deserved a shoutout.

With the contest concluded, PeoriaCon was done for the day. And we were done for the weekend.

On the whole, despite a grumpy baby (who left with con swag of her own, getting a couple free stickers over the course of the day) and card issues, it was a fun PeoriaCon. I'm looking forward to next year, though I really hope they introduce weekend passes by then.

And yes, I did break out the PoGo. I barely play anymore, but it feels like the thing to do at cons.

I'm also sharing an abridged version of this review on the Anime Central discord / Peoria subreddit, so if any of the wording / pics seem familiar to you - that's why.