#but anyway!!! maybe one day i can share em with you!!

[zeke-fanfucs]

Can you do Karmor slightly becoming like Albus (like having some of traits similar to Albus) but then Albus is like "no, you don't wanna be like me, whelp, trust me"?

Well.. sorry I half heartedly made this. I need a nap 💤

The Same Kind of Broken

The house was quiet, save for the hum of old power lines and the wind whispering through cracked windows. Everyone was asleep. Everyone but two.

Karmor sat on the back steps, eyes fixed on the red moons overhead. His hoodie was pulled over his head, sleeves bloody. Not his blood. Not this time.

His hands shook.

Not from fear.

From adrenaline.

From exhilaration.

It scared him.

Behind him, a door creaked. Heavy boots followed. A familiar weight dropped beside him, smelling like alcohol, sweat, and the kind of regret you can’t wash out.

Albus didn’t speak at first. He lit a smoke, the fire briefly illuminating his hollow eyes, then passed it to Karmor without looking.

Karmor took it.

Albus noticed. “You don’t smoke.”

Karmor shrugged.

A quiet passed between them. The kind you only share with someone who’s seen the same kind of hell and doesn’t ask for details.

“You hurt someone tonight,” Albus said, not a question.

Karmor nodded.

“Enjoy it?”

Silence.

Karmor’s jaw tightened. He hated how much he had. The way his pulse still buzzed from the fight, the way he hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t held back, the way he’d smiled when the other guy hit the ground and didn’t get up.

Albus sighed like it hurt. “Yeah. I know that look.”

Karmor turned slightly, eyes narrow. He scribbled on the notepad he kept in his coat.

You do it all the time.

Albus laughed. Bitter. Dry. “Yeah, kid. I do.”

He took the smoke back and stared into the dirt.

“You know what’s funny?” Albus murmured. “You grow up with people beatin’ the worth outta you, convincing you you’re a tool, a weapon, a waste. Eventually, you stop cryin’ when they hurt you. Then one day, you realize you stopped cryin’ when you hurt them.”

Karmor looked away.

“Felt powerful at first. Like I finally had somethin’ over ‘em. Like if I couldn’t be loved, I could at least be feared.” Albus chuckled darkly. “Turns out that don’t fix nothin’. You just end up scarin’ the people who might’ve loved you anyway.”

Karmor’s hands clenched.

Maybe it’s easier this way.

Albus glanced at the pad, then snatched it out of Karmor’s grip and ripped it in half.

Karmor flinched, eyes wide.

“No. Don’t do that, whelp.” Albus’s voice cracked. “Don’t you dare start thinkin’ like me.”

Karmor looked at him, lips trembling, throat burning from words that wouldn’t come.

“I ruined every damn good thing in my life,” Albus growled, eyes wet and distant. “Faith. Dev. Hipswitch. They put up with me outta pity or debt or stubbornness. Not ‘cause I earned it. I don’t want that for you.”

Karmor finally wrote again. Hands shaking.

But you protect people. You survive

Albus exhaled. It sounded like he was choking on glass.

“I survive, yeah. But I ain’t alive, kid. Not where it counts.” He tapped his chest. “In here? It’s all ashes. You still got embers. Still got somethin’ warm left. Don’t snuff it out tryin’ to be like me.”

Karmor looked down, a single tear trailing across his cheekbone.

L

Albus, for the first time in years, reached out.

He pulled the mute boy into his chest with a one-armed hug—rough and awkward and so damn needed.

Karmor shook against him, finally breaking. The sobs were silent, but they hit like earthquakes. His nails dug into Albus’s jacket, clinging to something solid, something flawed but real.

“I got you, whelp,” Albus whispered, voice hoarse. “Even if you hate yourself tomorrow, I still got you. Don’t lose the parts that make you kind just ‘cause the world don’t deserve ‘em.”

They sat there until the moons dipped behind the hills, and the sky started to soften.

Two broken things, sharing warmth in the ruins.

[inkykeiji]

TOUYA'S JOURNAL ENTRIES?? DID I HEAR TOUYA?? DID I HEAR JOURNAL?? DID I HEAR ENTRIES??

HEHEHE yes u diiiiid (*ﾉωﾉ) just a lil insight into that wicked, wild head of his hehe

some of it is just stream of consciousness type stuff, like touya on a coke binge and just the constant stream of thoughts flowing through his head, just messily scribbled down to get them out of his head because they’re just so goddamn LOUD >.<

[maxlarens]

ok so i had an idea for the rb photographer fic if you're up for it

first of all im like in love w ur fics i love em all

and nextly, listen to this..

charles isn't single but manwhore carlos probably is?

he flirts w our photographer and makes max jealous?? roped in by danny ofc to get them together?? what do you think??

anyway have a great day! <33333

UM OKAY THANK YOU! max x rbphotographer!reader are literally everything to me and i am SOO thrilled to have gotten this request. very in character for daniel to get everyone involved in scheming even tho max has told him not to😭 love it so much😇😇 hope u enjoy and i am SOOOO sorry this took so long xx

MV: tonight (i wish i was your boy)

pairing(s): max verstappen x redbull photographer!reader

word count: 1.9k+

Max likes to think he’s not a jealous person.

Max likes to think that— but it doesn’t mean it’s true. Daniel would and has, argued that Max is an abnormally jealous person. In the sense that Max doesn’t like to share. Doesn’t like other people playing with his toys. Not that he thinks of you (or Daniel) as his toy— that’s absurd. He’s a jealous person, not some territorial asshole with an anger problem. (Okay, sometimes he has an anger problem. He’s been working on it. It hardly crops up anymore, but he’s not territorial).

He is, again, bad at sharing, and also uniquely used to getting what he wants.

It’s not because he’s got a crush on you. Despite what Daniel would like to assume. It’s just that you’re meant to be his friend. You’re here with him, because of him. He’s meant to be able to hover around you all night, getting carried away as he tries to explain something meaningless while you give him that half-grin that you don’t even realise you’re doing most of the time. He’s the one who’s supposed to be putting his hand on your back, and leaning in to ask if you’d like another drink—

Not Carlos.

Definitely not Carlos.

(Well, at least it’s not Charles).

Instead, Max is standing next to an overeager Lando at the DJ deck, gripping his drink so hard that he’s mildly concerned the glass will shatter to pieces in his hand. Actually, that’s not such a bad idea to get your attention. Maybe if that happens you’ll stop looking at Carlos Sainz Jr with big googly eyes and you’ll come nurse his hand or whatever it is you’re supposed to do in pathetic little fantasies like the one he’s entertaining. You’re not really the nursing type though, you’re more prone to start freaking out and calling everyone on the Red Bull team to tell them that Max has irreparably damaged his hand.

Max stops entertaining that particular fantasy.

Daniel’s not here, he’s gone home to Australia for a few weeks and skipped out on this weird little grid (+ friends) party that Charles is throwing. This is good and this is bad for Max. On one hand Daniel is not here to rib him about his half-admitted crush on you, on the other hand Daniel is not here to distract him from his half-admitted crush on you. There’s Lando of course, who can be just as good in the distraction department, but it’s not quite the same. 

Lando doesn’t quite know about the raging crush, which is probably for the better. He’s been around when Lando’s tried to set up Oscar before and that was an absolute unmitigated disaster.

“Hey man,” speaking of Oscar, “You good?”

Max frowns and then half turns to look at Oscar who’s now hovering next to Lando with a fruity little drink in hand, “Yeah mate,” he answers, confused.

Oscar gets this weird little micro expression on his face that Max wouldn’t usually take any note of— his forehead creases, he raises a disbelieving eyebrow— but the skepticism grates at Max a little, leaves him wondering.

“Why?”, he caves.

Oscar shakes his head, shrugs, “You're kind of staring down Carlos."

Max's mouth falls open, just a little. He is not. His eyes flit to Lando unconsciously for confirmation before he has a chance to defend himself against what are frankly untrue allegations from Oscar. But Lando is already shrugging, making a face that says he has been.

Fuck. Max frowns. And doesn't say anything.

Better to stay quiet and look moody than to admit anything to these two. Total menaces. Well, no that's Lando. Oscar might be helpful. Still, Max isn't going to admit anything. Daniel and apparently Charles knowing about it is more than enough.

Their hushed conversation behind him fades into the background as Max turns again to look at you and Carlos— and alright he gets it now. There's definitely a different kind of set to his jaw, a scowl on his lips as he watches Carlos put his hand on your shoulder.

There is something in his gut. Something sick. The feeling he gets when he's on track and the car starts sliding, the wheels locking up. When hears the va-rum of a car go by, sees something that isn't wide open space in front of him. Something like panic starts to climb up his throat. He knows he shouldn't be this bothered by you and another person, but he can't get rid of this voice in the back of his head that says you might like Carlos more than him. That you might stop hanging around Max, texting him at all hours of the day with photos of your food or random questions, waiting for him in the garage after sessions and not just because you've got to take pictures of him, and going out for food on 'friend dates' as you've taken to calling them.

If you and Carlos... okay no, Max doesn't even want to think about it.

He starts walking over, trying to smooth his face into something less intimidating as he goes. He turns it into a strained, mouth-closed smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He directs it at Carlos.

There's a glint in Carlos' eyes that Max doesn't like the look of.

"Hi Max," he says, flashing his white teeth, he gestures to you, "I was just getting to know your lovely friend here."

Alright. Max understands instantly. This has Daniel's name written all fucking over it. Max's fake smile falls, turning into a flat look that he levels at Carlos. He's trying not to scowl because he doesn't want you to catch on to anything, but it's not easy. His phone is burning a hole in his pocket, he doesn't care if it's the middle of the night in Australia right now, he's itching to call Danny and ask him what the fuck he is thinking pulling something like this from 14,000 kilometers away?

"Mm," Max hums, unimpressed, unable to fake pleasantries even for your sake, "Great."

You look at him, eyebrows raised a little incredulously at his tone. There's slight amusement there too, he thinks, as he returns your look. You squint a little, as if to say, don't give me that look, Max Verstappen. He can feel himself smiling, the corner of his mouth lifting with ease even though the object of his anger still has his stupid hand on your shoulder.

He can't help himself when he reaches for your elbow, asks, "D'you wanna get a drink?"

You bite down on the edge of your smile, "Sure, Maxie."

You turn and say something to Carlos that he doesn't listen to. Partly because he doesn't care, partly because the sound of you saying Maxie is playing on a loop in his head, like it always does whenever you use the nickname. Which is more often than not. God, he loves it. Maxie Maxie Maxie. It sounds so syrupy sweet coming from your mouth. Smothered in affection. You're the only person, bar his mum and sister that he lets use it. Daniel sometimes, but Daniel would say it regardless, the menace that he is.

"Max," you say, hand on his bicep, thumb smoothing back and forth there, "Where'd you go?"

Max blinks. Carlos is gone now.

"Hm, no, nowhere," you frown, so he says, "Just a bit tired."

This seems to satisfy you. You slip an arm into the crook of his, linking them together as you tug him to the bar. You order him a G&T and yourself a glass of wine before the two of you head out onto the balcony where it's far quieter. Less people, less chatter. Max prefers it like this, with no one there to get in the way of your attention on him, his on you. He thinks you prefer it too.

He hopes you do at least.

You sip your wine, Max’s eyes linger on the line of your neck, the way your fingers curl around the glass, how your eyes glitter in the early afternoon sun.

“What was that earlier?”, you gesture inside, raising your eyebrows again, “With Carlos?”

Max laughs nervously without meaning to, “Uh, what do you mean?”

The ‘something sick’ is back in his gut again. He hopes you buy his nonchalance, but doesn’t feel confident you will. You know him too well. That’s his fault.

You sigh, “I mean the dick measuring contest, Maxie.”

Maxie. Maxie.

Then he finally registers your words around the loop of your voice in his head, he guffaws, almost choking on his drink, “The dick measuring contest!?”

“Yes,” you hiss, leaning forward on your stool, “Yes, Max. I’m not an idiot, you were getting territorial.”

Max blinks. Max feels red creeping up his neck. Max feels butterflies and maybe a chainsaw in his stomach.

“Wha—”, he tries again, “I—”

His mouth doesn’t appear to be working. Maybe because he’s not sure what on earth he’s supposed to say. What do you even mean? Are you trying to say that you know he was jealous of Carlos? That you know he has feelings for you? Or are you just referencing the fact that he’s weirdly territorial of his friends sometimes? What is he supposed to say in response to any of it? He can’t figure it out for the life of him.

Then you’re blushing you’re blushing and you’re saying, “You don’t have to worry, Max. You’re my favourite person here.”

Okay, alright, what the fuck does that mean? God. Max hates this. If you were any other girl he’d have asked you out literally years ago. But because you’re you and you’re his best friend besides Daniel, he can’t ask you out. He has to smother his feelings into something platonic because he cannot bear the idea of losing you.

Despite his better judgment telling him not to, Max asks, “Really?”

You hum, “Really, really.”

It happens in slow motion, it must. Or at least that’s how Max replays it in his head every night before he goes to sleep. You reach forward and put your hand over his, fingers on his wrist, thumb drawing a pattern on his upturned palm.

Then you say, in a way that he can’t figure out for the life of him, “Love you, Maxie.”

Chills run down the length of his spine, that chainsaw starts up again in his stomach. Love you, Maxie. He feels sick— like he might word vomit the entirety of his feelings for you right there and then. Instead, he forces himself to smile. Closed-mouth, eyes crinkled.

“Mm, yeah, love you,” he says back, his voice cracking as he tries to make it sound normal and platonic and not wracked with nerves.

You smile, warm, beaming and showing your teeth, like he’s made your day infinitely better by just saying those words. As if you’ve not just made his stomach churn and his heart take leaps and bounds in his chest. As if he’s not going to think about the way you’d said it every second of every day. As if he won’t dream of you saying it in every other context imaginable.

You pat his hand twice, then pull it back to take hold of your drink again. Smiling as if you’ve not ruined him for anyone else for good.

[enwoso]

finding her way back home | alessia russo

i’m sure someone requested something with lotte and foxy from college era but i can no longer find the request or maybe i dreamt it idk but if not here it it anyways!

grumpy masterlist

alessia leaned back against the dorm room couch, her hand resting on her small bump as she watch lotte and emily animatedly discuss their future plans.

"i'm telling you," lotte said, pausing for a moment as both girls waiting for her to continue, "arsenal is where i'm heading after here. best club in england!"

emily rolled her eyes, "your so biased, arsenal's good sure but if you're really aiming for the best, you'd look across the pond. nwsl has the edge in-."

"emilyy, not again" alessia interrupted, laughing as she dragged out emily's name.

emily smirked, "fine but i'm staying in the u.s. anyway at least for now. but mark my words we'll all end up in london one day, we'll sign with a club together. it'll be epic"

"deal" alessia said softly, looking between her two best friends. "i don't care what club we're at as long as we're together again."

lotte grinned, "you'll have to hold out the talks with manchester united until you're ready to come back though."

"yeah, the deal with them is still early days" alessia said a wistful smile crossing her face. she loved the idea of returning to england and playing there but for now, football felt like a distant dream.

she had other priorities now - a tiny, growing priority who was going to depend on her for everything.

emily leaned forward, her serious side kicking in, "oh, speaking of priorities, less have you taken your prenatal vitamins today?"

a small groan came from the blonde, this had been the same conversation she would have with the american everyday. she wouldn't forget. "yes, emily"

"and the iron supplements? you've been looking pale the last couple of days."

"wow thanks em, but yeah i have"

"and you're drinking enough water?"

"yes, emily!" alessia said, exasperated but unable to hide her smile, her heart warming at the fact of how caring her friends were over her now.

emily raised an eyebrow, "don't 'yes emily' me you were standing for like two hours at that student center thing yesterday. you've got to take it easy less!"

lotte snorted, "your like her personal midwife"

"somebody has to be!" emily shot back, tossing a pillow at lotte as she giggled on, "she's carrying out honorary niece or nephew. i take my duties very seriously!"

—

after a long morning, and a few teary goodbyes mainly saying goodbye to lotte and emily who walked alessia to the further point they could in the airport before sharing a group hug, promising one another that they'd see each other soon.

alessia was finally settling into her seat on the plane, rummaging through her carry-on, pulling out the book emily had packed for her.

as she opened the front cover she noticed a bright pink sticky note with emily's neat handwriting sprawled on it.

‘make sure you drink water every hour, you're already bad enough at this on the ground, don't make me come 30,000 feet and lecture you! safe flight lessi.’ emily

a small laugh bubbled up despite her exhaustion, emily had never let up since the the moment alessia told them and alessia could never not be grateful for the two.

a couple hours later, the flight going somewhat smoothly apart from the fact alessia was finding it rather difficult to get comfy, as she kept having to get up every half hour to use the bathroom. luckily she was on the isle seat..

as the flight attendants handed out complimentary snacks, alessia reached into her own bag for her own stash she'd bought in the airport. as she unwrapped the granola bar another little sticky note fluttered out.

the one had a messier scrawl of letters on it, accompanied with a doodle of a football. alessia immediately knowing it was from lotte.

‘granola bar = good. chocolate = bad. unless you want me and em to tell your little one that their mum broke all the rule, only kidding. take care of yourself, okay? we love you.’ lotte<3.

shaking her head with a smile, alessia carefully folded the note and slipped it back into her bag. her journey back home continued as she found more and more notes that the two girls had hidden in her bag in unexpected places.

reminder to stretch her legs.

a reminder to take her vitamins (no guesses needed to guess who that one was off..)

a reminder to have a nap.

but finally she found a small handwritten card tucked into the side pocket of her bag, where she kept her headphones. the note being from both of them:

‘alessia, we're so proud of you. we can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you but you're the strongest person we know. and we know that your little one is so lucky to have you as their mum, and we're are so lucky we get to have you as our best friend. don't forget we're only a call away — no matter what the time it is. this isn't a goodbye, just a see you soon. we love you so much! lotte and emily <3'

tears filled her eyes as she read their loving words. holding the note tightly as she pressed it to her chest, overwhelmed by the love and support they had shown her. looking up at the time left on her flight: ten minutes and she'd ben home.

—

when alessia finally stepped through the arrivals gate in london. her body ached for her own bed from the long flight and her mind was foggy with fatigue. yet her heart leapt when she saw her family waiting for her.

her brothers were the first to reach her, gio stood tall with a big grin on his face as he pulled her carry on from her hand. "what's this? didn't they charge you extra for the snacks you probably smuggled on board?"

"or is it baby stuff already?" luca added with a smirk, reaching to grab the trolley with her suitcases on, "bibs and tiny shoes?"

"hilarious" alessia said rolling her eyes playfully. normally she'd fire back with a quick comment of her own but she was simply too tired to engage as she let out a breathy laugh and muttered, "just make yourself useful and carry my bags would you?"

her lack of a witty retort made both her brothers pause, gio nudging luca with his elbow. "she'd either growing up or she's too jet lagged to care?"

"one hundred percent the second one," luca quipped back quickly.

mario was standing slightly behind them, giving her a warm smile as he silently pulled her into a hug. alessia closing her eyes as she leaned into his steady presence.

when he released her from the hug, he took one look at her tired face and gestured towards the doors of the airport, “let’s get you home, you can sleep in the car”

but before they could move any further, carol appearing rushing forward to envelop alessia into her arms.”

“oh my baby!” she cried, happy tears already spilling down her cheeks. her hands immediately going to alessia’s six month bump

“look at you, you’re glowing. are you eating enough? have you been taking those vitamins i told you about? and oh- names! have you thought about any yet? what about james or izzy? or-”

“mum,” alessia said with a tired laugh her voice soft but affectionate, “i’m too tired to think of names right now”

her mum wasn’t deterred, as she looped her arm through alessia’s and began walking in the direction of the car, her chatter filling the quiet night.

“that’s okay, we can talk about it tomorrow. did you know your gran suggested peter? i told her absolutely not and then your aunt said olivia, but that’s..” alessia let her mum’s voice wash over her, a small smile tugged at her lips.

she was home.

the drive back to kent alessia’s head was leant against the cool glass of the car window the air cool and a lot less sticky than the hot air from the states as alessia’s eyes half closed.

her brothers keeping up a low and playful banter next to her as mario hummed softly to the radio as he drove. carol keeping a watchful eye on alessia from the corner of her eye the entire way.

when they finally pulled into the familiar driveway of her childhood home, alessia felt a wave of emotion rise in her chest. her family bustled around her, her brothers unloading her bags as her dad quietly set up a spot for her to sit in the living room. her mum of course already started to plan where they were going to go for breakfast.

alessia sat back, her hand resting on her bump as she let the moment sink in. she was surrounded by love, laughter and warmth. this is what her baby was being welcomed into, a family surrounded by people who already cared so deeply.

for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt at peace. she was home and she couldn’t wait to welcome her baby into the world.

—

it was well past midnight when alessia finally sank into the soft cushions of her old bed, her body aching with exhaustion but her mind too restless to sleep.

her family has tucked her in for the night with promises of a big family breakfast in the morning, but the quiet hum of the house only made her miss lotte and emily even more.

reaching for her phone, alessia stared at the time. it was early morning in north carolina - ridiculously early. she debated whether to call, knowing she could leave a message and they’d get back to her later.

but before she could second guess herself, her fingers had already pressed the button.

to her surprise emily picked up after only two rings, her voice groggy but alert. “less? everything okay?”

“why are you awake?” alessia asked, startled at the americans accent and by the fact she actually answer the phone.

“it’s five thirty am,” emily muttered, “i have morning conditioning in an hour. why are you still awake?” alessia chuckled, that’s one thing she wasn’t going to miss in a hurry - the early morning sessions.

“i just got home and i- um couldn’t sleep. i wasn’t expecting you to answer. i was just going to leave a message.” alessia explained as emily had placed her phone down on the counter to fill up her water bottle.

“like i’d miss your call,” emily said her tone softening as the american glanced across her dorm room, “wait, here comes lotte.”

a moment later, lotte was on the screen a tired smile on her face but still filled with excitement to her see the blonde. “less! your home already? how was the flight? did baby behave? did you find the notes we left?”

“slow down lotte..” emily interrupted with a teasing smile, “let her answer one question at a time”

alessia laughed, warmth spreading through her chest, “yes i’m home. the flight was fine - long but fine. baby is all good, kicking my ribs but that’s usual these days. and yes i found all the notes. thank you for those by the way.” her voice softened, “i already miss you guys.”

“don’t make me cry at five am,” emily groaned, “it’s too early for emotions.”

“literally? who gave you the right?” lotte added, but her teasing tone couldn’t mask the affection in her voice.

alessia leaned back against her pillows, “it feels weird without you both. and em you’ll be happy to know my mum has already taken over your job”

"job?”

“mhm the constant reminders about vitamins and water” alessia replied a hint of amusement in her tone, “first you, now her. it like i have my own personal tag team of nagging.”

“poor you” emily dai, her voice mock dramatic, “you live such a hard life. imagine having people who actually care about you. must be terrible.”

alessia snorted as she rolled her eyes playfully, although the two on the other side of the facetime call could barely see by the blondes dimly lit room.

“don’t mind her less,” lotte said her voice light. “you know she gets snappy when she’s tired.”

“i’m not snappy when i’m tired.” emily protested as lotte and alessia both looked to each other and burst out laughing.

“you are..” lotte countered as she stopped her laughing, “but it’s okay we love you anyway.”

the banter made alessia smile so wide her cheeks were beginning to her. these two girls were her rocks, her family away from home. even though right now they were miles apart she felt their love and support as strongly as if they were sitting beside her — if not more.

“thanks for answering” alessia said softly, “i didn’t think you would.”

“of course we did.” emily said her voice losing its previous teasing edge, “we told you that you can call us anytime, less. even if it’s just to say hi, we’re here for you.”

“always,” lotte added, “now you need to sleep. you’ve got the whole growing another human thing to keep up with.”

alessia laughed as she could feel the baby kicking slightly, “okay okay, goodnight— or good morning.. i guess”

“love you less!” they said in unison making the blonde grin.

“love you guys too!”

as alessia hung up the room felt a little less quiet and her heart felt a little less heavy. even across an ocean her best friends were always there for her. with a content sigh she fitted off to sleep one hand resting on her bump knowing she’d never be alone in this journey.

[macfrog]

the jellyfish | one shot

today marks one year since i posted the fic i’m proudest of, san angelo. i loved this joel and this girl so much that even after i posted their story, i couldn’t shake them. i wrote a little extra for my own heart, never intending to share — but now feels as good a time as any. enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: they just drift, jellyfish. they go wherever the current takes ‘em. i think you and i were a little like that. i think the universe delivered me straight to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so all the expected major character deaths. star-crossed lovers who transcend universes to be together and all that good shit. word count: 5k

psst. you might wanna read this post before you jump into this fic. x

She comes through on the heels of a sunbeam.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Ten seconds or ten minutes or ten days, maybe – but she’s still a kid with rosy cheeks and plaid pajama pants, so you figure it can’t have been long.

No, it can’t have been long at all.

“Sarah?”

You push through the ghostly glow of a thousand other people. It’s iridescent chaos, wherever this place is. A flurry of panicked strangers – their forms hazy and only half-here.

They sweep from your path like silk. The screaming is deafening. Some are on their knees, sobbing into the nothingness. Others are searching every face, calling names you don’t recognize, crying out to a god or a universe you know is no longer listening.

All you know is this is it. Whatever you had, whatever you knew – it’s over now. All that’s left is here. Some kind of dreamscape, an astral plane.

If you didn’t know better, you’d call it heaven.

She looks just like the photographs he’d shown you. First day of school, he said – and he grinned wider than you’d been able to make him the entire night. Shoot, this one’s a little blurry, but – you see that trophy in her hand? Fifth-grade science fair. Smartest kid in her class.

“Sarah,” again.

She turns.

Her eyes meet yours, crystal blue and streaming. And as if she, too, knows your favorite superhero and the way you like your mac and cheese – she holds her arms out.

You pull her in, feeling her little hands lock around your waist. Your cheek falls to the crown of her head. She smells like bitter iron. It makes your teeth hurt.

She’s crying. Wetting the front of your shirt, pushing her face so hard into your tummy that she can barely even breathe.

“What happened?” you ask, cupping the back of her head.

Her hair is linen soft, fair and cropped at the top of her neck. Sweet like bubblegum pink shampoo, she smells just like strawberries.

“Tell me, honey – what happened?”

The smallest voice you’ve ever heard. She speaks between thick sniffles. “I don’t –” gasp, “– I don’t know.”

You kneel in front of her, cupping her cheeks. Your thumbs catch her tears as they come. “Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t know,” she sobs, and wraps herself around you again.

She asks who you are on the third day.

By now, you’re wandering around hand in hand. Things have settled, the pale fog has cleared. Your world is one of bursting greens and rolling blues; flowers which lift with the sun and sprawling hills which cushion her fall at the end of each day.

Gently, one by one, the others disappeared. Into the night, into the sun – into their own little corners of this world. You and Sarah are the only two left, settled in a snug valley populated by wildflowers and families of deer.

It’s better this way. It’s calmer. You can listen to the sway of the long grass, can pluck out the different types of bird just from their song.

You hush Sarah to sleep every night. You’ve managed to quieten her crying, had done by the second sunset. She has no reason to trust you, but she does – and you figure you owe it to him to watch over her, anyway.

At least until he gets here.

“I knew your daddy once,” you tell her, taking in the dusky pink sky. The sun is lowering. She’ll grow tired soon. He wouldn’t want her up past her bedtime. “We met a long time ago.”

“Did he like you?” she asks, earnestly – but you pause.

It rises from your chest like painful little bubbles, each one shattering more violently than the last. Tears spring along your waterline. You swallow the tremble in your voice.

“I hope so,” you whisper. “I liked him very much.”

She hums to herself, walking on. Her arms wrap tighter around the firewood she’s holding. “I bet he liked you just as much,” she says. “You musta been pretty special.”

It lingers for a moment. The beauty and the pain of it; the flood of violet that designs a fresh bruise. The memory swirls around you in the breeze.

In the next life.

Promise.

Sarah strolls off in the evening light. The clouds tint her hair a peachy rose. She’s already out of your reach.

The blood jumps in your veins. You gather your skirt and hurry back to her side, masking your nerves with a smile. “Well, I feel it,” you nudge her, “being in your company.”

She giggles for the first time since you found each other. This sweet little melody. It blends in with the birdsong.

The kid goes everywhere on your back.

Closer than your own shadow, hanging from your arm, watching everything you do with a filial affection. Becoming someone’s person wasn’t exactly something you meant to do, but then – neither was meeting her dad in a dive bar.

You’ve been dealt worse hands.

You braid her hair while you sit in the valley. Knots of gold threaded with daisies and dandelions. She names the deer and nods hello to each of them. She stands on your toes and walks backwards, squeals when you trip over one another and tumble across the bed of grass.

It’s not hard to see why he loved her so much. This little dove of a girl. Soft around the edges, a springtime sweetness to her like cherry blossom or fresh snowdrops. Something you want to cradle, tend to with careful hands and shield from the rest of the world.

She wraps her arms like twigs around your shoulders. She chatters in your ear about soccer and movies; asks to hear your favorite everything so she can compare it to hers.

She talks about him every day. Talks about him the same way he’d talked about her: laughter splitting her words, each one rounded by the toothy grin on her face.

When she sleeps, her head in your lap, your fingers sifting through her hair – you look for him. You try to find him.

It’s a gift and a curse that you always do.

Boston, at least at first. Gruesome and unforgiving. Dingy streets and dirty deals; a woman with a mind as sharp as her tongue. He trusts her. He feels safe around her. She relieves some of the ache in his chest and that relieves some of the ache in yours.

You walk in stride with them at night. You watch him break bone and break his own heart, over and over. He looks nothing like he did in San Angelo. His brother can’t look him in the eye anymore.

He’s an open wound. Agony from the inside out. A heart split like the skin over his knuckles.

You follow him back to his apartment and try to whisper words through the dark. Can you feel me? I’m here. I’m right here.

He only ever rolls over and scoops the bare pillow, wrapping his huge arm around it. He’s lonely, drowning in it, though he’d never admit it. He’d never admit any of it: he’s not hurting, he’s not grieving. He doesn’t remember her smile or the weight of her on his back.

That’s the thing. He remembers all of it. He can’t shake her from his shoulders. He can’t stop answering when he hears echoes of her voice. Crying only seems to pain him all the more, the burn of salt on his skin.

You curl up behind him, hoping he might feel your heartbeat through worlds. Hoping he might feel your arms around him and know, somehow, that he’s carrying his kid, too.

Sarah asks in the morning why your eyes are so red.

“No reason,” you reply, tucking a forget-me-not behind her ear. “Let’s go pick some apples.”

She slings herself over your back, an empty string bag dangling from her wrist. She kicks her legs as you wander from shade to shade, dodging the blazing sunlight.

Sarah’s no idiot. She’s her father’s daughter. She can feel the effort in every step, sense the burden heavy on your shoulders. She jokes that your shadows look like some kind of giant cockroach wearing a summer dress, and it makes you laugh.

In the orchard, she climbs up onto your shoulders. She reaches above, clawing for the shiniest ones. Deep reds with freckles just like hers.

“Be careful,” you mutter, feeling her rock with the branches to pick the best fruit. Your grip tightens around her ankles.

The fear sets like a pebble, heavy in your stomach. The same fear that sinks anytime she leaves your reach, the same fear that plummets when she’s shoulder-deep in the river and you think the current might sweep her off at any moment.

She’s not your kid. She’s not. But she’s his – and he was as much yours as anyone.

The sun flashes between the leaves, becoming too hot to stay out much longer. You must be in the thick of summer by now. It’s scorching.

“Sarah,” you plead, squinting up at her swaying silhouette. “Please be careful.”

“You got it,” she calls, voice strained. She plucks and plucks, a satisfied sigh with each apple she rolls into the bag.

Back home, you stand by the sink. The cool shade of the cottage, fruit bobbing in the water. Sarah wants to slice some of them, sit outside and watch the bees pollinate the flowers.

You flick your blade up, fishing the biggest apple. As you line the silver against the swollen skin, you feel her eyes on you.

“You okay, honey?”

She smiles. Her eyes flit to the blade in your hands, the droplet of juice dribbling between your knuckles. “Can I do it?”

“Chop the –?”

Sarah nods.

You look back down at your hands, hesitating. The blade winks back. Heat begins to creep up your spine. “I…I guess.”

She swaps positions, spreading her fingers over the fruit. Her small hands curve around the handle of the knife. The sight of it makes your stomach turn.

“Like this?” She positions it between her first and middle fingers.

You wince, laying your hands on her wrist. “Yeah,” you gulp, “but just be –”

“– careful?” she says, smirking. “Daddy lets me help him with the cookin’ all the time.”

Yeah, you think, that’s ‘cause Daddy can’t do it by himself.

The knife plunges down with a wet crunch. The halves roll apart. The air punches from your lungs.

Sarah looks up, bright eyes twinkling.

With a sickly anxiety, you realize she wants to do it again.

��Good job,” you say, voice wobbly, fists balling on the counter. Your nails dig into your palms. “Now, uh – now half ‘em again, and make sure you cut the seeds out. You eat the seeds, an apple tree grows in your belly.”

She snorts. “I know that ain’t true.”

The dragonflies hover politely near the river, metallic wings fluttering.

You lay a blanket down in the shade of a willow, fringed from the rest of the valley by its drooping curtain of leaves. You suckle on the shards of fruit, lips lined with a sticky sweet.

Sarah picks the best apples. You know this by now.

She sucks her fingers clean, staring at the sparkling river as it trickles by. You’ve been here longer than you could guess – longer than you care to – but still, she asks, “What if you’re lying?”

You dig between your teeth for apple skin. “Huh?”

“You said you knew my dad,” she says, turning back. She rubs one eye with her knuckle. “What if that’s not true?”

“Then I’d be pretty damn good at bluffing.”

She snickers. “I believe you,” she says, “I always did. There has to be some reason you found me.”

You sit back, leaning on the heels of your palms. Your chest swells with emotion, the lonely pain of waking up to an empty bed and an empty apartment.

“You like soccer,” you tell her. “You play for the…the Defenders, right? Number fourteen. You won your fifth-grade science fair with a project on jellyfish.”

Sarah looks down at the grass, cheeks lifting. She picks a daisy and twirls it between two fingers. “You remembered all that?”

“Like I said,” you sigh, “I liked your dad a lot.”

You keep looking for him every night.

He’s been out of Boston for a while, and you’re glad of it. He found himself a shadow of his own right before he left – a little girl with freckles and a light like sunshine.

Just like yours.

She’s spunky, she has heart, and she can kick ass. Every second word is a curse, feels like. She tells stupid jokes and she pulls on all the right threads. She’s unwinding him, and you’re sure neither one of them knows it yet.

She’s saving him.

You took to her the day they met. He took a little more convincing. You knew he’d come around eventually, and you spent weeks waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It didn’t happen so suddenly. Day by day, hour by hour, he mellowed. His bark quietened, the blaze in his chest tamed. Soon, he let her close enough to warm her hands.

And he was aglow all over again. He looked the way he had two decades before.

It must be years now – the way he’s grayed and she’s sprouted. You can’t keep up with the passing of seasons, the way their conversations change. Change and change and wither away.

And – just as you’ve adopted all the other scars and bruises and fractures in his soul – their distance hurts you just as much as it hurts him. It feels hollow, like his bones are protecting nothing. Ghostly. Barren.

The worst of his pain comes during a blizzard.

It’s a fucking mess, the entire thing. You can’t hear anything over the kid’s screaming. Faces keep bleeding in and out of view; grunts and gasps and terrible, terrible groans.

He’s on the floor – that’s what drew you in. He’s on the floor, broken in two. A mammoth captured in a snowstorm, slain in the basement of a mansion.

You wait for him to notice you. He’s come close before – scuffles in backstreets, on horseback with a puncture in his stomach – but he’s never looked at you before.

You stumble around the edge of the room, stifling your screaming as the girl’s arms lift again. The bite of metal is nauseating. The blood is spattered up the windows behind him.

A shell of himself – this man who once held you, whispered sweet nothings and silly jokes in your ear. Who held his palm open and let you trace over it, score secrets into the skin forever.

He’s done some shit, sure – but hasn’t everyone?

She brings the club down on his skull. His body bends in on itself, breaks in a way you never knew it could. He’s past able to make any sound. The size of him gives one final shudder, and just then –

He looks.

He looks you square in the eye.

Joel?

He blinks. A wet gurgle leaks from his lips.

Joel, can you –? Shit, can you see me right now?

It’s dribbling from his chin like tar. Thick and black. It runs quicker when his lips try to move.

You can, can’t you? You can see me.

His brother and kid are out cold. You step between them, whispering apologies as you pass, and kneel at Joel’s side.

I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay, baby, you’re okay.

Your eyes screw shut. He’s in your bed, his shitty Motorola in one hand and your fingers in the other. He smiles. He smiles and he laughs and he kisses you again.

God, Joel, you sob, I love you. I love you so much. Tell me what to do. I don’t know what to fucking do here.

Please. I need you to get up. Can you get up for me?

Can you – can you move? Can you hear me?

Joel?

Sarah brings you tea and sets it down on the table.

She sits beside you, tucking her knees right under her chin. She warns about the flies, says you’ll be drinking bug soup if you don’t get to it quick.

You force your lips into a smile and thank her, ruffling her sun-bleached hair. One tiny sip – only to please her – and your head rolls back, face skyward.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks, laying a hand over yours.

When she finally managed to wake you, you were both crying. She said your scream almost deafened her. She thought something terrible had happened, until she lit the lamp and saw you clutching your bedsheets, sobbing into the cotton in your sleep.

You squeeze her fingers. “Yes,” you lie. “I’m sorry I scared you. It was just a bad dream.”

“I used to have those sometimes,” she says, sniffing. She rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “Not since I came here.”

“You know what it is?” You turn to look at her, one eye closed in the sunlight. “I ate cheese before bed. Cheese gives you funny dreams.”

Her head tips back with a giggle. “No, it doesn’t. That’s so silly.”

You lift your eyebrows. “I blame the cheese, Sarah Miller.”

She nudges the mug an inch closer, and you take another sip.

It’s good – the tea. She knows exactly how long to brew it for, exactly how much sugar you like. It’s as if she counts the granules by hand – and, if you know Sarah, you wouldn’t put it past her.

You balance the warm mug on your breastbone. “Wanna help me hang the sheets up?”

She nods. Always eager to help, eager to do everything and anything. She disappears back into the cottage and you listen for the sloshing of water, the wet slap of the sheets being flung into a basket.

Nothing has come of it. Your dream. No knock at the door, no calls of either of your names echoing through the valley. After you convinced Sarah to go back to sleep, you stood outside and listened to the wind for forty-five minutes.

He is not here.

It’s the first time you’ve ever wondered where here really is, anyway. For this long, it’s been yours and Sarah’s. A secret kingdom in some dusty shelf in the universe; pixies and sunshine and splitting apples by the river.

You don’t want any of it, if he’s not here.

You’ll pack a bag, pull Sarah over your back. Find somewhere else. Somewhere with room for him, too. She needs her dad, and you need your – well.

Sarah meets you by the clothesline. She drops the basket with a sigh, then twirls around the pole as you untangle the sheets. She spirals until she’s sat on the grass, legs crossed, passing you clothespins as you work.

“I was thinking we could stay up late tonight,” you say, slotting a pin over the sheet. Forcing a casual air through your voice, trying to keep it steady. “Watch the sky for a little while, maybe hunt for shooting stars.”

You’re only trying to wring out the hours you’ll be without him. You don’t want to spend the night staring at the ceiling, slowly forgetting what he looks like.

Sarah says nothing. She knows you’re full of it. She leans forward and picks a ladybug from your skirt, rotates her hand to count its spots.

The sheets lift in the breeze, billowing and twisting around one another. The clouds turn over – rolling from perfectly white to an afternoon blush. The world is preparing to turn in already.

And that’s when she says it.

“Daddy?”

Your back is turned. You’re sipping at your tea. “What, honey?”

She pulls herself up and steps forward. She walks through the sheets, ducking her head to miss their brilliant flashes. Staring straight ahead at something you can’t see yet.

“Dad…”

In one swipe of the linen, she’s gone.

With a gasp, she sprints off downhill. She screams as she goes, footsteps thundering through the valley.

“Sarah!” you yelp, swatting the laundry out of the way. It swirls around your arms, waving across your vision in a white smirk. “Sarah, come back –”

The fabric spills over your arm when you lift it. Your heart stops short in your throat.

He’s knelt in the grass, arms wide open. Same jeans, same wintery boots. He flicks his fingers and his little girl collides with him, her tiny body crashing into his.

They roll back into the soft grass and for a few seconds, they disappear. But as quickly as your heart stops, it starts again. He rises from the flora, Sarah in his arms.

He nuzzles his face into her shoulder. He’s sobbing, you can hear it from way up here. Sobbing, then roaring with laughter, then gasping for air – though he won’t pull away from his little girl long enough to breathe.

They have the same laugh. The exact same. It echoes between them, this delighted string of sound. That hearty, giddy laugh.

She stands straight, still holding tightly onto him. Like she’s scared if she lets go, she’ll lose him again. Planted between his knees, fixing threads of silver hair from his eyes. Talking to him, yapping and giggling, her head bobbing all over the place.

He talks straight back – bass voice even deeper than you remember. The only words you can make out are baby girl. He can’t stop stroking her hair, can’t stop bursting into euphoric laughter.

After a minute, he stands. One hand locked in hers, arms swinging. He scopes the valley, murmuring something to his daughter while shaking his head in disbelief.

She points everything out to him. The hills and their peaks. The spot where the sun rises and the spot where it sets. The willow by the riverside, the knolls where the rabbits burrow. And then – she spins around and points to you.

Your hands knot at your stomach.

Shielding his eyes with his arm, he looks up and spots you. He pauses for a few seconds, just stares and stares. He doesn’t move until Sarah tugs on his wrist.

She drags him the whole way back to the cottage. “It’s…it’s…” she pants, squirming with joy as she hauls both of them uphill. She takes your outstretched hand and shakes it. “It’s my dad!”

“Sure is,” you whisper. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think. It hurts to be so close to him and still nowhere near enough.

Joel mirrors your expression, loose with shock. He reaches the yard and sighs. His shoulders rise and fall with the effort of his breath, sweat lining his brow.

He’s older. Of course he is, it’s been twenty-five years. Salt and pepper, just like your dreams. More wrinkles, more scars – though, in the sunlight, he looks just like the man you knew. Those same embers of light in his eyes, smirk unconcealable even behind his thicker beard.

He looks the exact same. He never changed a day.

“She said she knew you from long ago, Dad,” says Sarah, beaming up at him. She won’t let go of either of your hands, a little chain link between this world and the last. She blinks back and forth between you.

“Yeah, baby girl,” he finally says, and you hear that familiar sandpaper rasp, smoothed over by a lacquer drawl. “We knew each other pretty well.”

The girl squints in the sun. “She taught me how to make tea. You want some tea?”

He finally drops your gaze. He looks down to Sarah and smiles tenderly. “I would love some tea.”

She squeezes your hand, then turns on her heel and skips back to the house.

Joel watches as she disappears into the kitchen, then turns his attention back to you.

His hairline is rusted with dry blood, eyes still a little bleary. His blood-soaked jacket is gone – and, if you know him half as well as you think you do, you know he rid himself of it sometime before his daughter noticed him.

He hooks a thumb through his belt loop and smiles, perplexed. He drags a heel through the terrain, stones scuffing under his boot. He lifts a finger and points in your direction.

“Mind’s still a little hazy,” he says. “Have we met?”

It floods through your body. That same twenty-something-year-old feeling. A kiddish glee, a teenage flush. You bite right into it.

“I was wondering the same thing. You look familiar. Did you do something with your hair?”

His head tips. He runs his hand through the flicks of hair by his neck. “That oughta be it. I grew it out,” he drags his fingers down his jaw, “Grew out my beard, too.”

“Mm. Yeah, I see that. Looks good.”

Your voice is breaking. It’d be embarrassing if you were paying attention to it.

His arms cross. “You look good. You look beautiful.”

Another little hm. Then –

“If you don’t touch me right now, I’m going to scream.”

And he jumps.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you suddenly and heavily against his chest. He’s so solid and yet so soft; so weathered and still the safest thing you’ve ever known. He feels just like he did all those years ago.

“Joel,” you sob into his shirt, and he kisses your head.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers into your hair, sniffling. He kisses down your neck and across your shoulder.

“Hi,” you weep. You pull back, cradled in his arms, blinking through your tears.

His cheeks are glistening, eyes streaming all over again. He laughs with you, shaking his head. “Jesus,” he chuckles, “look at us.”

You nuzzle into his palm, closing your eyes. “I missed you so much,” you whisper.

“Oh, darlin’,” Joel strokes your cheek, “I missed you, too. I thought about you every day. Every –”

“– damn day,” you echo. “Me, too.”

“I wish I’d gone back for you,” he admits. “I should’ve found you, I –”

“Hey,” you lift his jaw and press your forehead to his, “You found me. I’m right here, see? Feel me? You ain’t gotta worry anymore. You found us.”

He pulls you into the same bear hug again. He squeezes tight and breathes in your hair.

“This is where you’ve been?” he asks, still drinking in the expanse of the valley.

“Yep,” you mumble into his chest.

He kisses your forehead. “And you looked after my little girl?”

“She looked after me, too.”

He laughs, tears slipping though his beard into your hair. “How? I mean – how?”

“She just – appeared. Right in front of me. Like it was meant to be.”

“That night?”

You nod, welling up. “I was already gone, Joel.”

He turns away for a second, pain twisting across his face. He holds you protectively. “Baby,” his voice breaks, “I’m so sorry.”

You press your fingers to his lips.

It needn’t matter now. None of it. Not here, where the sun drowns the valley each morning and the flowers dance in the breeze. Not here, where you and Sarah played handclaps and you taught her how to make daisy chains.

Not here – where the universe finally gave him back to you.

“It happened,” you shrug, “Look where I wound up.”

He nods, but you know it’s a bruise. You know it matters to him. Matters more than any of the rest of it. You can feel his heart throbbing in his chest.

“The next life,” Joel whispers. “Is this the one I get to keep you in?”

You smile. “Yup.”

He hums, playing with your hands. His head drops and he takes a deep, painful breath.

“There are some things you should know about,” he says – and for the first time, it’s like he’s uncomfortable. “Things that probably got a lot to do with why I’m here.”

“I already know,” you say. “I was with you the whole time.”

“You were?”

Your eyes close. “Mhm.”

“Shit,” Joel winces, “I never wanted you to see –”

“Shh.”

You take his hand and open his palm. It feels like velvet against your lips; as warm as the day you met. You kiss each mount, each plain of skin. When you pull away, you run your fingers over the same lines you read all that time ago.

“See? Still the same,” you reassure him, smiling. “You’re still my Joel.”

“Your Joel,” he teases. He tightens around you again, nuzzling your nose with his own. “That who I am, huh?”

“Uhuh,” you giggle, squirming when he tickles your waist.

His lips find yours in a crash of a kiss – a hungry, messy thing. His hands on your jaw, yours in his hair. Vanilla and pine, the scent of home you’ve been searching for ever since that very first night.

You tug gently and Joel groans into your mouth, his tongue rolling against yours. He tastes like beer and second-hand smoke, like the pinch of lime and the sting of love. He tastes like you, like twenty years too long apart.

He tastes like forever still to come.

The wind picks up and swirls around you both. The sun washes over your skin. The sheets snap back and forth, drumming over the kettle’s whistle inside.

“C’mon,” you whisper, leading him to the door. “Your daughter makes the best tea in the world.”

“Hey,” he says, reeling you back in against his body. He smooths your skin with his thumb. The same honey glow in his eyes, the same hidden magic.

“I love you,” he says. “I loved you the minute I saw you at that bar. Loved you no matter how many miles or worlds were between us. It’s the one thing that never changed.”

You smile, bringing his hand to your lips.

“It’s over now, Joel. You can come home.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Matchmaker

Summary: JJ tries to set Spencer up with Henry's pediatrician.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x pediatrician fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none!

Word count: 1.1k

a/n: gonna grab his cute little face and smooooochhhhhh

btw i will be posting on tuesday's and friday's because they won the poll but this is a bonus thursday post because i'm hungover and want spencer's love

main masterlist

“Hey, Spence!” JJ called out as she strolled into the bullpen, her bright smile making Spencer look up from the file he was reviewing.

“What’s up, JJ?” Spencer replied, adjusting his glasses and setting the file aside to give her his full attention.

“So, I was thinking…” JJ began, her tone light and playful, but before she could finish, Emily chimed in from across the room, a grin spreading across her face.

“Well, that’s never good,” Emily chuckled, earning an amused roll of the eyes from JJ.

“Love you too, Em,” JJ shot back, her voice dripping with mock sarcasm before she refocused on Spencer. “Anyway, as I was saying, I was thinking, you’d be a really good match for Henry’s pediatrician.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “Ohhh, what’s she like? Super brainiac nerd?” Emily teased, wiggling her eyebrows at Spencer, who scoffed lightly.

“Rude,” Spencer shot back with a half-smile before turning back to JJ, his expression softening. “And uh, that’s nice of you, JJ… but I’m not really looking to be set up.”

JJ, undeterred, leaned against Spencer’s desk, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of determination and affection. “Oh, come on, just meet her. She’s the best! I know you guys will click.”

Spencer’s smile faded slightly as he considered her words, his brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, he sighed, his tone gentle but resolute. “Sorry, JJ. I’m not interested. It’s sweet of you to think about me, though.”

Spencer assumed that was the end of the conversation, especially since JJ didn’t bring up the mystery woman again in the days that followed. He thought he was in the clear, believing that JJ had respected his decision. Little did he know, JJ wasn’t one to give up so easily, especially when she believed she was doing something good for someone she cared about.

—

“Hey, babe,” you greeted Spencer when he answered the phone, your voice warm and light, immediately bringing a smile to his face.

“Hi,” he replied, and even through the phone, you could hear the smile in his voice, the simple greeting filling you with that familiar warmth.

You and Spencer had only been seeing each other for about six weeks, but those six weeks had been transformative—arguably the best of both of your adult lives. Every moment spent together seemed to be a little brighter, a little more meaningful, as if you had both found something truly special.

“What’s up?” you asked, settling into a comfortable spot on your couch, your curiosity piqued by the call.

“Well,” Spencer began, his voice carrying a note of hopeful anticipation, “I was going to see if you would want to hang out Friday night. We could watch that movie I was telling you about.”

A smile spread across your face, touched by his thoughtfulness, but a twinge of regret quickly followed. “Awe, Spence. I’d love to, but my friend actually invited me out that night. I’m sorry, honey.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, just long enough for you to wonder if he might be disappointed. But then Spencer’s voice came back, just as warm and understanding as always. “Oh, it’s okay, maybe Saturday?”

Relief washed over you, your smile returning in full force. “I can do that! Put me in your calendar, genius.”

“Will do,” Spencer said, and you could almost picture the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“See you then, can’t wait,” you replied, your voice full of genuine excitement. The anticipation of spending more time with him was something you both shared, and as you ended the call, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar flutter in your chest, counting down the days until Saturday.

—

Seeing as Spencer didn’t have any plans for Friday night, it didn’t take much convincing for the team to drag him out for drinks at their usual bar. The large booth was already filled with the familiar hum of conversation and laughter as the team chatted amongst themselves, waiting for JJ to arrive. The atmosphere was relaxed, the kind that only comes from years of friendship and countless nights spent together unwinding after a long week.

When JJ finally walked in, the group greeted her with smiles and waves, but it didn’t take long for them to notice that she wasn’t alone. Following close behind her was another person, and as they got closer, Spencer’s eyes widened in disbelief. No way.

“Hey guys!” JJ greeted, her voice full of excitement. “This is my friend, Y/N! She’s Henry’s pediatrician, and she is absolutely amazing. Spencer, this is who I wanted you to meet.”

Spencer couldn’t even try to hold it in. The absurdity of the situation hit him all at once, and before he knew it, he was laughing—right in JJ’s face. It wasn’t just a chuckle, either; it was a full, genuine laugh, the kind that took him by surprise as much as it did the rest of the team.

“Reid, have some manners. What is wrong with you?” Derek’s voice cut through the laughter, laced with awkward confusion. He wasn’t used to seeing Spencer act this way, especially not when meeting someone new.

But before Spencer could even attempt to explain himself, you joined in, your own laughter bubbling up as you leaned down toward him, completely unbothered by the awkwardness. With a playful smile, you kissed Spencer on the lips, the simple, affectionate gesture leaving everyone at the table stunned. 

“Hi, baby,” you greeted him warmly, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Spencer, still grinning, managed to recover enough to return the greeting, “Hi.”

The rest of the team stared in shock, jaws practically on the floor, while JJ’s expression morphed from confusion to wide-eyed realization. “Wait… you two know each other?” she asked, her voice rising in surprise.

“Oh, we more than know each other,” you teased, taking a seat next to Spencer and intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m Spencer’s girlfriend.”

Derek’s eyes widened as he looked between the two of you. “And you didn’t tell us, pretty boy?”

Spencer shrugged, a bit sheepish but mostly amused by the whole situation. “It just… never came up.”

Emily finally broke the silence with a laugh. “Well, this is one way to find out!”

JJ groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment before laughing along with the rest of the group. “I can’t believe I tried to set you up with someone you’re already dating!”

“It’s okay, JJ,” Spencer reassured her, still holding your hand. “At least you know that your matchmaking skills would have worked out.”

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[violetarks]

"they don't love me like you do!"

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: despite the countless valentines day offers he receives, satoru will only ever accept one confession. but you're confessing... to his best friend?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, high school! au

"please accept these chocolates, gojo!" says the girl in front of him. satoru casually pulls down his glasses enough to see the red, heart-shaped cardboard box.

"oh, uh... thank you." he awkwardly says. this girl was two year below him, judging by the colours of her indoor shoes. he didn't even know her name. "this is... a surprise."

"i've liked you ever since orientation day. i hope you like these." she says with a nervous grin. she's stiff as he takes them out of her hands, standing up straight to stare at the tall man. "thank you for always being so funny and helping everyone you can."

"ah, you're welcome." he says, tucking the chocolates and the letter taped to it under his arm. luckily, the lunch bell had rung and everyone should've been off to enjoy their break. "well, i'll... see you around."

"b—bye, gojo!" she calls, waving at him as he walks the other way. he gives a kind smile before he turns the corner, dropping it immediately.

on the way to class, multiple other students watched him as he carelessly skimmed through the letter before stuffing it in his book bag, ready to throw it (and the others) away once home. valentines day was this week and it was two days before it today. yet satoru had received tons of confession letters and date proposals, none of which he had the intention of accepting.

plopping down in his chair, he groans, hanging his head, "ugh! i hate being so loveable..."

suguru rolls his eyes, outting his book down. "here we go again." he grunts, shaking his head.

"seriously! why can't i be left alone around valentines day?" he questions out lout, pulling his lunch box from his bag.

shoko bites into her sandwich as she listens to him. as she swallows, she retorts, "maybe it's because you flirt with every living being on earth." satoru sends him a pointed look. "so how many letters today?"

"seven." satoru responds, knocking his bag.

"and?"

"none of them were from y/n." he sighs out, picking up his chopsticks.

"wait, y/n?" suguru pipes up, putting his juicebox down, "as in y/n from class d?"

the blue-eyed boy raises a brow, halting his movements. "uh, yeah? l/n y/n." he recalls to his friend, tilting his head, "what? i've been talking about 'em for the past three months—suguru, have you been listening to me at all?"

"oh!" the dark-haired boy chuckles, nodding his head, "i know y/n. we're in the same literature class."

satoru stares at him in disbelief. the other students surrounding them are in their own little world, but the three of them didn't even mind them hearing if they tried. shoko continues to eat her food while suguru shrugs at his friend.

"are you kidding me?" satoru gasps out, waving a hand in the air, "i've been trying to get with them for three months and you tell me this just now?"

"you should've been more specific, man." suguru retorts, waving it off, "anyway, you gonna' ask them to be your valentine?"

satoru sighs loudly, hanging his head back, "i don't know... we only share bio together, i bet there's a lot of people who have asked them to be their valentine. they probably won't even accept mine."

shoko purses her lips and stretches her arms. "i don't know about that." she claims, "you're a pretty guy and everyone knows you. i doubt they'd pass up the chance to revel in that popularity."

"... thanks, shoko."

soon enough, the bell rings and the day goes on.

the next day, satoru notices something in your hand during biology class.

"whatchu' got there, y/n?" he asks, peaking over your shoulder. he sat behind you, enough room to see the handwritten letter you were writing.

"satoru!" you jump a little, covering the page. he furrows his brow. "it's, uh... i'm just writng something."

"is it... for valentines day tomorrow?" he inquires, curious to who was the lucky person. but you were still hiding it from him!

"no, of course not." you were lying, he could tell by the way you look to the left. a pout falls on his lips. "it's notes. for another class."

"oh... okay." he responds, a bit disappointed. why would you lie to him? he sits back in his chair, writing down some paragraphs from the textbook mindlessly. he saw the way your elbow quickly shifted, you were writing faster. your head was down too, never looking up. you were so concentrated.

he's known you for a couple of months now. you bumped into him on the way to school, and you admitted to him that you were a bit lost since you didn't live around here. satoru, being the gentleman he is, offered to escort you. you thought he was some creep (he tried reaching to hold your hand and when you jerked away on instinct, he played it off as it being the wind).

but once realising you two shared some classes together, you grew fond of him. you knew of the countless students throwing themselves at him. both older and younger. he was the school heartthrob. it's a shame though, only your smile could make his heart race like he makes others do.

when you gave him your lucky pen when he told you he didn't study and he was freaking out, you had this kind smile that made him think 'i don't want anyone else to see this but me'.

and he noticed that you awkwardly took it back from him, looking away as he clasped your hands tightly in the filled hallway and thanked you. your reactions were just the cutest...

when the bell rings, you perk up, putting your 'notes' in a suspicious looking envelope and signing it off with something. you stand up and satoru is quick to walk by your side when a classmates holds his arm to talk.

"huh?" satoru grunts, furrowed brows.

"gojo, i... i wanted to give you this." they say, holding out a teddy-bear saying 'be my valentine!'. satoru frowned when he took it. "you don't have to answer today... just let me know tomorrow, please."

as they continue to talk, he sees you exit the classroom. the letter sits comfortably in your palm, and you look left, right, before walking off. satoru is electrified.

"okay, thanks!" he says, running out of the classroom while he clutches the bear in his hands.

weaving through the crowd, he looks for the top of your head. after more and more people pass him, staring at the teddy and whispering 'who gave that to him this time?', he spots you turning the corner, a nervous look on your face. he mutters out apologies as he bumps into people heading to their next class.

the hallway you're in now is empty. you stand in front of a classroom door, waiting. notably, suguru's math class.

satoru stands at the end of the corridor, behind the corner, as the classroom door opens to reveal his best friend, geto suguru.

"suguru!" you call, smile. your shoulders are straightened, you hold the letter in front of you. not scared to show him...

"oh, y/n, hey." he responds, grinning as well. the comfortability around you two was so strange to see. "what's up?"

satoru feels like he's buzzing out. he can't hear everything you're saying, but you look a bit excited yet anxious. he hears your sweet voice speak to his best friend with such kindness that he's jealous. sure, suguru was attactive and nice and he definitely didn't feed into the popularity like satoru did, but...

why did it have to be you who was interested in him?

"please, take this." you say, handing him the same letter you had before. except this time, satoru sees the 'g.s' on it. 'geto suguru'. and you take out a box of his favourite snacks to hand to him. "thank you for everything, again. you're the best."

suguru takes it with ease, seeing how you looked at him. his gaze softens as he takes the treat as well. "you're welcome, y/n. anything you need, i'll help with." he puts the letter in his own bag before slinging am arm around your shoulders. "now, what're your plans for after?"

he was blatantly asking you out now! right after satoru told him he had feelings for you! such betrayal!

you two walk to the other end of the hallway, in the direction of your literature class. satoru slumps against the wall, furrowed brows and lips pressed into a thin line. after a second, he pushes his glasses up and lets out a slow exhale. he could get over this...

"gojo! may i please have a moment of your time?"

"wait no! me first!"

"gojo, can i talk to you?"

"please accept these!"

or maybe he couldn't.

valentines day was today and you danced into school with such confidence. you had a bouquet of flowers in your arms, chocolates of the sweetest kinds, and a bag of new perfume that you knew your crush would like.

you were so excited.

satoru, who was walking a few people behind you, was not.

he saw the amount of passion you put into the holiday, and it made him sick to know it was for his best friend. the guys was in such a bad mood, he ignored suguru and shoko's calls this morning to meet up and walk to school together like usual.

satoru clicked his tongue, thinking about how dramatic the whole valentines day idea was. really, who needed it all anyway?

in homeroom, he can hear your class (which is next to his, across the hall) start whooping and cheering when you walk in. and he knows it's you by the chants of your last name being heard. he sits in his chair in anguish.

"satoru, morning. finally." shoko says, sitting down as well. she grins, bitting the popsicle stick between her lips. "where are all of your valentines presents?"

"stuffed in my shoe locker and under my desk." he claimed, opening the top of it to showcase the blaring red and pink gifts. she picked at one pocky box, munching on the biscuits. "how about you?"

"i got a couple letters and cookies in my locker." she claims, shrugging her shoulders, "lots of 'em are from the badminton team. i don't know why."

satoru shrugs as well as soon as suguru sits down in front of him. the blue-eyed students scoffs, looking away.

"good morning, satoru." he says, noticing his friend's behaviour, "what's got his panties in a twist this morning? does he know we called him a hundred times?"

"i dunno'." shoko says, looking out the window to the school garden. "ask him."

"satoru, what's wrong? didn't get enough presents this year?" he teases, leaning in his chair to poke his head, "wake up late?"

but satoru angrily swats his hand away. the raven-haire boy blinks curiously before satoru glares at him. "why didn't you tell me you were interested in y/n?" he asks, hurt.

shoko looks back to the two boys, seeing suguru just as confused as she is. "you're into y/n?"

"what? no! who said that?" suguru retorts, hands up in defense, "i'm not interested in dating y/n, swear on my life."

"that's a lie!" satoru accuses, pointing a finger against his friend's nose, "shoko, i saw him and y/n all... all... familiar yesterday after period 2! he had his arm around them!"

"suguru..." shoko warns.

"wait wait, that's—you got it all wrong." suguru groans, now understanding. he digs through his bag and pulls out a piece of paper. "here. open it."

satoru pushes away the paper reading 'g.s'. "no way! i'm not reading y/n's love letter to you!"

"ugh! just open it!" suguru grunts, shoving it onto his desk.

satoru begrudgingly takes it and gently opens the letter, not wanting to rip it. once his eyes fall upon the page, he confirms that it's your handwriting.

'thank you for being the sweetest boy to me. i am truly honoured to know such a beautiful person, inside and out.'

satoru wants to barf.

'sitting near you in biology really helped me to understand you, satoru. you're not only a pretty face, but a world-class sweet tooth, a sucker for romantic cliches and a cologne-collector.'

satoru thinks this is the most beautiful thing he's ever read.

he contiues to read, expression changing, letting shoko and suguru understand his thoughts. the girl looks to the other boy, who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

"i'm confused." shoko states, tilting her head.

"y/n isn't confessing to me, they're confessing—"

"y/n is confessing to me! me, satoru!" satoru exclaims, waving the letter around like a maniac. everyone else in the class was suddenly a listener, peaking at the trio. they were interested in finding out what the one confession that resulted in this reaction was. "oh my god, oh my god!"

suguru nods his head. placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "yes, yes, they are. i was meant to give you the letter this morning to read before homeroom, but someone was pissy." he scoffs, shaking his head, "so i had to go and tell y/n that plans had changed."

"you... helped y/n plan this all out?" satoru mumbles, "but you didn't even know!"

shoko chuckles, staring out the window again.

"i just said i wasn't paying attention so you didn't think i was snooping. which i was. and i only told you i knew y/n so you wouldn't get any ideas, like this." suguru circles the air with his finger, deadpanning at the clueless satoru, "you think anyone would do this without definitive proof the other person liked them?"

satoru continues to read the letter you wrote for him before his eyes land on the ending. "'please meet me at the school fountain before homeroom ends.'" he murmurs out, blinking, "suguru—"

"you were meant to go two minutes ago." his friend sings out, standing in front of shoko's desk. he points out the window, much like other students were doing in their own classrooms. "you should..."

when his friends turn around to him, satoru is already one foot out of the door. he's rushing downstairs (down three flights of stairs, actually) with your letter clutched in his hand. he almost flies into a couple teachers on the way to the garden, only for their attention to be caught by students opening the windows and pointing outside.

when he rushed through the doors to the garden, you're staring at the floor, still holding the flowers and gifts you brought to school with you. taking a moment to gather himself, satoru runs fingers through his hair and fixes his glasses. the pair you've complimented a thousand times.

satoru walks closer to you and when he catches your eye, you stand up straight and smile.

"satoru." you chime, not missing the thousand pairs of eyes that were following your every move. "good morning. happy valentines day."

you hold out the flowers to him. it's set in a nice box, and the treats are in a gift bag. when you give it to him, your smile is awkward but hopeful.

"happy valentines day, y/n." he replies, taking it from you. he sits down on the fountain edge, and you follow along. "i'm so sorry, i... i don't have anything for you."

"no, no, no." you retort, grinning, "it's fine. this was a surprise for you, anyway."

he sighs, "no, i'm sorry... please, let me make it up to you."

you laugh a little, placing a hand over his on his lap. the flowers were sat on the fountain with his gifts. "sure thing." you retort, "hey, suguru told me that this morning—"

"i'm sorry, i know, i just thought..." he begins, cutting you off. he looks embarrassed, heavy blush falling over his cheeks. "i saw you and suguru yesterday and you gave him that letter. had me thinkin' you were confessing to him instead of me."

you let out a small chuckle, making him gulp, "oh my goodness, i'm sorry, i didn't mean for you to see that. we were trying to be sneaky."

satoru's chest feels lighter, and he feels better just hearing it from you. he links his fingers with yours, facing you fully.

"ah, no it's fine." he tells you, the most purest form of adoration in his eyes that you can see from the top of his slanted down glasses. you grin softly. "listen, i have had a crush on you for months... and i was hoping that you'd go out with me. i want a chance to get to know you personally, away from any prying eyes."

you peer to the side, seeing the people watching you. they were practically hanging out the window, waving their hands and fighting to view the whole scene for themselves. cameras took photos and videos, capturing your moment with him.

"i'd love that, satoru." you say, scanning his face, "you're the best."

it only takes him a single second to reach his hand out and brush his thumb agaisnt your cheek. you don't freeze up though, only relaxing into him. he was the most inviting guy you've ever met.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, voice unwavering. his blue eyes are staring at your face with such kindness that it cannot be described.

you don't even say anything, only leaaning forward and pressing your lips to his. he's smiling against your lips, gentle hand caressing your cheek. your eyes flutter shut, holding his hand tightly.

cheers erupt from the school. screams and whoops from guys and girls alike. most students are heartbroken due to the obvious confession. nobody had even gotten that close to satoru. no one has been able to hold his hand, let alone get him to go crazy over a letter. you got him to race out of that classroom like a madman, and everyone was surely surprised.

the shouts die down as the kiss deescalates, many of the students sighing as they're forced to move on from the heart-throb gojo satoru.

when you pull away, satoru chases, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. your smile is wide and you pinch his cheek softly.

"you're such a drama queen, satoru." you say, standing up, "i was wondering why everyone started yelling and staring at me all of a sudden."

satoru stands with his presents, rubbing the back of his neck as he holds your hand. h goes to answer when a voice is heard from the fourth floor.

"the idiot took some convincing, y/n!" suguru shouts, waving his hand, "glad to know he's got some sense in him!"

"shut up, suguru!" satoru calls back, showing his fist.

"first period is about to start, you two!" the principle says through a window on the third floor, "this is all heart-warming, but you've failed two of ms kinoshita's classes, gojo!"

"r—right!" he retorts, pacing to the school entrance as people begin to 'ooh' at him. he looks back at you, smiling the brightest. "let's go out after school today, yeah? i'll buy you as many sweets as you want."

you chuckle, kissing his cheek, "my hero."

[princessbrunette]

stepbro!jj 😩😩😩😩 i’d be playing footsies with him at the breakfast table in the morning, acting all coy like he didn’t bend me over his bed last night

i rlly love the idea of reader being the horny sick n twisted one whilst jj is trying desperately to cling onto his morality <333:

•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•

jj was not nonchalant by any stretch of the word, but now sat at the breakfast table — your cunt still aching from the way he’d fucked you through the night, he was seeming to play it incredibly cool and collected. no trace of a knowing smile or secretive glances, just his regular behaviour, sat reclined in his seat wearing his usual get up and a backwards hat. the dismissal would have maybe hurt if it wasn’t turning you on a little.

“i’m headin’ downtown for that AA meetin’. load of horse shit but ‘least i’m tryin’.” luke maybank chats as he messily spreads butter on his toast at the counter, taking a moment to lick some off his thumb. your mother is also rushing around the kitchen ready to head out on her own shift at work— you’re avoiding eye contact with her the most, more shameful of the acts you’d commit under the shared roof only a few hours prior.

“well, we are all proud anyways.” she praises, looking around at you and jj for contribution. you nod, and jj clears his throat, shuffling closer to the table opposite you on his chair.

“yeah, real proud pops.” you can tell it’s difficult for him to say from the way he looks down at his food as he says it.

“don’t get sappy on me, squirt.” luke’s words come muffled through a cheekful of toast, and soon your mother begins to fire overbearing questions at him about the recovery course he’s taking. as they talk, you zone out — eyes flickering to jj who is spooning up soggy cereal onto a spoon.

things felt very familial during moments like this. the whole family going about their regular morning routines, jj and yourself sat opposite at the table like a regular old brother and sister duo. you knew you were sick in the head from wanting your step brother in the first place, and now you were secretly fucking him — the idea that he was able to sit opposite you without a soul knowing he was balls deep earlier on was turning you on once more.

you glance over at luke and your mother, seeing them wrapped up in their own conversations — and you toe at the entrance of jj’s jeans, running your foot along the inner side of his calf. when he looks up at you through a heavy brow, cheek still full with cereal you can tell he’s warning you to stop — but knowing he couldn’t verbally express this, and that any vision of your feet was obstructed by the long gingham table cloth — you felt obliged to continue. no one even notices when jj winces and you giggle, too stuck in their own conversation.

you manage to stretch your leg to get your foot in his lap, briefly rubbing at his cock before he grips your ankle and throws it off him, angrily licking his lips and tensing his jaw, doing a double take at the parents when they turn their heads, the attention attracted by your whiny and dramatic ‘ow!’

luke scoffs out a laugh, walking towards the kitchen exit, shaking his head and spitting into a tin waste bin by the door. you truly wondered what your mother saw in him. “kids, huh. who’d have ‘em.” he comments before exiting, making jj cringe at the general insinuation that the two of you were in any way related, or kids.

your mother is quick to follow, barely sparing the two of you a glance. “i can drop you off some lunch if you’re going to be all day, i finish early and —” her voice trails off before the two of you hear her yell out a goodbye to you and the door closes. jj barely waits for them to be gone to push heavily out of his chair, letting it scrape on the floor and wander over to your side, gripping your jaw from where he stands beside your seat, forcing you to look up at him.

“do you think this is funny? like — i’m almost certain you got some weird fetish for wanting to be caught but i don’t, alright — quit bein’ so obvious.” he scolds before letting you go, quickly lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair as he wanders to the counter to cool off and pour himself a coffee. he was already dressed, set to meet the pogues a little later whilst you wandered around in tiny pyjama shorts and a thin tank top that made him wanna slap you.

you giggle despite his sternness and push out your chair to follow him, poking him in the back as you speak. “oh c’mon jayj, s’just a little fun. no one noticed anyway. you’re acting like i got under the table n’made out with your dick. not a bad idea for next time actually.” you muse jokingly and he all but slams his coffee mug back down to whip around to face you.

“y’know i can just like, confiscate everything i’ve been doin’ for you. s’not hard to find pussy, and if you wanna keep actin’ like an actual annoying little sister i’m gunna start treating you like one.” he ticks his head, squinting in irritation and your eyes widen in faux offence and fear.

“aw, don’t do that to me jj. i thought you liked playing with me.” you pout, and oddly — despite knowing you were playing games with him, it makes him soften the tiniest bit, shoulders falling a centimetre or so.

“well, look— i do…” he rolls his eyes and you smile. taking your hands, you push your tits together, looking up at him with mocking babydoll eyes.

“yeah, just like playing with your lil sis too much, huh?” you coo and he yanks your hands off yourself, tongue in his cheek — clearly losing his patience a little.

“nah, keep it up. you’re not getting shit from me anymore i’m dead serious.” he raises his voice a little, that southern twang jumping out a little extra and you giggle elatedly at the threat. you spin around, pressing your ass to his crotch and looking over your shoulder.

“nuh-uh, you like this view too much.” you tease before your jaw drops, mocking quiet ‘uh-uh-uh-uh’ moans as you repeatedly thump your ass against him, the blonde watching with a deadpan, unimpressed expression and arms folded over his chest. he goes to say something, but the sudden banging of the front door closing wipes the amused expression off your face quicker than he can and you jump up straight, looking like a deer caught in headlights when your mother walks back through the door.

“forgot my keys.” she shakes her head before her eyes land on the two of you standing near eachother, jj looking smug and you looking guilty. “everything… okay?” she raises an eyebrow at the weird atmosphere.

“yes! yeah everything’s fine.” you squeak, sounding oh so innocent and afraid. jj snorts, turning back around to the counter and continuing to pour his coffee.

“well alright, see you guys later.” she smiles before disappearing once more, leaving you looking bashful.

once she’s gone, jj glances over his shoulder at you and pouts, barely concealing his grin.

“aw, that scare ‘ya, lil sis?”

•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•

[solarmorrigan]

Written for Day 3 of @steddie-week

Prompt: Mutual Pining | Rated: E | Additional Tags: Modern AU, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Hypothetical Top!Eddie/Bottom!Steve

-

Need more trope reversal with gay!Steve and still-thinks-he's-straight!Eddie obliviously pining after each other

Like, Eddie isn't into guys, but it's fine that Steve is. It's cool! Eddie is super supportive! He even helps vet Steve's dates. And whatever anyone (coughRobincough) says, he is not overly invested in Steve's love life. Sure, he might judge potential partners a little harshly, but it's for one of his best friends! Steve is great, and he deserves the best; it's not Eddie's fault so many guys fail to live up to standards.

Meanwhile, Steve is quietly dying, because he's been into Eddie since forever, but Eddie is straight, and he has to sit there and listen to Eddie extol his virtues and talk about how he deserves someone great while not being romantically interested in him whatsoever. But Steve also never claimed he isn't pathetic, so he'll take what he can get; maybe dating a guy who Eddie deems worthy will be almost as good as getting to be with Eddie himself?

Anyway, that train wreck is happening, and it all sort of comes to a head one night when Steve comes home to their shared apartment from yet another date, visibly frustrated and a bit disappointed, and Eddie isn't one to say I Told You So (much), but he had told Steve so. He'd said he hadn't liked the look of the guy's profile picture; Eddie has a sense about these things.

But still, he asks, "Bad date?"

Steve shrugs. "It wasn't- terrible."

"Oh, high praise."

"Well, it wasn't!" Steve gives a little laugh. "I mean, he was... nice."

"He bored you, didn't he?" Eddie can't help himself. "I told you he would be boring, who uses a picture of themselves in a suit for their profile on a dating app?"

"He wasn't boring, he was just- nice," Steve hedges. "A little too nice."

Eddie raises his brows. "Like... suspiciously nice?"

"No, not- we just weren't compatible," Steve says, still frustratingly vague.

Eddie is silent, staring at Steve, willing him to go on.

"In bed," Steve finally elaborates with a sigh. "The sex sucked, man."

"Ah." Eddie nods sagely. And then, because - okay, not because he's overly invested in Steve's love life, thank you very much, but because he's a good friend, right? And a good ally. And - yes, fine, he's also a little curious, sue him, but because of all of that, he asks, "You don't like 'em nice?"

Steve snorts. "I'm not saying I like people to be mean, it's just - I mean, it's kinda hot, you know? Having a guy who can push me around a little - take over so I don't have to think. Like, people just kind of assume I want to be in charge, that I'm gonna take over and-" Steve shakes his head, "I dunno, that's just not really what I'm into."

Eddie nods; this is definitely important information that he needs to have, obviously, if he's going to help Steve find The Perfect Guy. And he can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want to give Steve exactly what he wants - he would be so pretty, pressed into the mattress, clutching at the sheets, scrambling for purchase, for a way to channel the pleasure as he gets fucked. Who wouldn't want that?

Like, objectively. Objectively, Steve is an attractive guy, anyone can see that, so objectively he'd probably look hot while getting railed within an inch of his life. That's just science. Surely any guy who also likes guys would be into that.

Eddie realizes he's maybe been silent for too long. "So you're a pillow princess, huh?" he teases, trying to will away the image he's got in his head of Steve begging for some guy's cock, faster, harder-

"Fuck off." Steve gives Eddie a shove, but he's laughing a little. "I am not. I'm definitely not opposed to doing some work to get what I want."

The Steve in Eddie's head that for some reason won't go away shifts from arching his back while on his hands and knees to sitting in some probably undeserving guy's lap, riding him like a fucking pro, head thrown back in ecstasy, and Eddie very much needs to go now, needs to go address the completely unavoidable boner that's come up because they're talking about sex. That's just what happens sometimes. Unavoidably. Totally normal.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind. While we're hunting for your dream guy, I mean," Eddie says quickly, levering himself up off the couch and making for his bedroom as quickly as he can without being suspicious. "Sorry the date was a dud. We'll find your man, though, Stevie, despair not!"

He barely catches a glimpse of the odd look Steve is shooting him before he shuts his bedroom door. He can't think too much on it, because his brain is busy with other things - things like initiating the most confusing jerk-off session of Eddie's life.

But they were just talking about Steve and his preferences in bed, alright? It doesn't have to mean anything that Eddie's suddenly imagining it's his lap that Steve could be bouncing in, whining and crying out as Eddie thrusts up into him, hitting him just right. It doesn't have to mean anything that he imagines putting Steve on his back, imagines Steve's legs wrapped around his waist, imagines holding Steve's hips so hard he leaves finger-shaped bruises, imagines fucking Steve until he's sobbing and still begging for more, because Eddie understands what Steve needs, Eddie can give him what he wants--

It doesn't have to mean anything that Eddie comes harder into the slick clutch of his fist, imagining it's Steve's tight ass, than he has in ages.

It doesn't have to mean anything, but Eddie gets the feeling that maybe it does.

And shit, he may have to do some self reflection.

(Meanwhile, if Steve retires to his own room to have some private time with his favorite toy, fucking himself like he wishes Eddie would, shoving his own fingers in his mouth to keep from calling out his name, that's his business. And if he didn't admit to Eddie that the biggest reason the date had sucked had simply been because the date wasn't him, well - that's Steve's business, too.)

[screamingforests]

How would task force 141 react to the reader giving them puppy eyes (🥺)when they want something?

AND how would task force 141 go about getting the reader to do something for them? Would they get payback and use the puppy eyes as well? or do they have some other method?

Ahhh this is such a cute idea!! I love these sort of asks. This is gonna be quite long

Gaz - he doesn't immediately fold to the puppy eyes, but they do weaken his resolve by quite a bit. With enough pleading and over the top dramatics, he folds quite quickly.

~

"Pleeeease?" You ask, holding up your phone to show some online shop selling something you've been after for ages. A soft plush that has a giant blanket inside. "It would be perfect for movie nights!"

Kyle sighs, "c'mon, love, we have enough blankets and plushes around the house for movie night now."

And when you pull out the puppy eyes with some more soft pleading, he just sighs.

~

Though, when he wants something, he's more sly about it. He 100% uses that charisma to get what he wants without puppy eyes, and he's so smooth about it. It almost makes you mad.

Soap - Folds. Immediately. No hesitation. Your puppy eyes are his greatest weakness and you know it.

~

"Look at her! I could use a companion while you're on missions!" You show him the newspaper listing that someone was selling kitties.

"No, bonnie! I don't want to have to share you with some wild cat!" Johnny pouts at the idea, crossing his arms.

And when you pull out the puppy eyes, he's immediately calling the listed phone number. One would be fine, he supposes.

~

This man would definitely use puppy eyes to his advantage in return. You don't fold quite as quickly as he does, but you still do eventually. It's a win-win, really.

Ghost - I mean, he was more than likely going to buy you whatever you wanted anyway, so the puppy eyes just speed it up. He likes showering you in gifts because he knows he isn't always the best with words. Though, the gifts are meaningful(mostly)

~

"Si!" You shout from across the apartment, running to show Simon what you had just found. "Si! Si! Si!"

"Woah, dove-" Simon grabs your waist, stopping you in your tracks. "What's got you in a hurry?"

"Look!" You shove your phone to his face, your screen showing off a matching pajama set. "I want matching pajamas with you!"

And you already do, but you want another pair so you don't waste any time using your best puppy eyes.

Simon sighs, "Alright, giv' it here, I'll get 'em."

~

When he wants something, he just asks for it straight up. He doesn't ask for much so you know if he's voicing it, however nonchalantly, he must really want it. He spoils you so why can't you return the favor?

Price - Does NOT work on him. He finds it more amusing than anything. Even if you know it doesn't work, you still always try because what if it does work some day?

~

"John, can we stop at that new restuarant?" You ask, pointing it out as the two of you walk around the city.

It was date night, and he was already planning on taking you somewhere even nicer, though you didn't know that.

"Not tonight, luvie," John replies, squeezing your hand. "I have somewhere else for us."

"Oh, please?" You plead softly, pulling out your puppy eyes. "I really want to try it with you tonight."

"Not tonight, maybe some other time," he chuckles softly, "now c'mon, we've got to keep walking if we plan on making it in time."

~

This. Man. Does. Not. Ask. For. ANYTHING. You basically have to pry it out of him, and even then, it's a fight. He just wants to spoil you, and he does not want you spending your hard earned money on him. That's your money, not his. Still, getting him to talk after a few heavy-handed glasses of whiskey is pretty easy.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

The Cold Never Bothered Him Anyway

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam sighed heavily as he tried to walk away from his sister. But Emily was persistent.

Emily: Addy please stop!

Adam: Emily I’m not discussing this any further.

Emily: Your killing souls Adam! I think this is something you and I need to discuss.

Adam stopped and ran a hand through his face. Though in the end Adam had gotten what was planned and the exterminations would follow in a month it was still quite a disastrous meeting.

Especially now that Emily had found out about what he and his girls did.

He turned towards her and instantly regretted it when he saw the look on her face.

It was a mixture of disappointment and anger directed completely at him. Never once had they known each other had she ever looked at him like that.

What was worse was that she had a hint of disgust behind those eyes. She didn’t understand the whole picture. If it wasn’t for him sinners would be going rampant.

Adam: Emily you don’t understand-

Emily: Darn right I don’t! How can you be willingly be alright with the slaughter of these poor souls let alone leading the charge!?

Adam: ….Poor souls? Emily trust me when I say that these souls are far from innocent. If they could find a way they would kill us back without a second thought.

Emily: But still killing them!?

Adam: You just don’t get it and never will. Especially an angel of your standing.

Emily: …..Is this the reason you have been cold for the last two hundred years?

Adam’s eyes narrowed: Emily.

Emily: This isn’t the brother I know! The Adam I know is a sweetheart who loves music and sharing his talent with others!

Adam: People change Em.

Emily: You haven’t just changed your not you anymore! You’ve become a…..

She stopped herself from finishing that sentence. But he knew what she was going to say. He was a monster in her eyes.

Adam: If you really hate me that much then maybe I should just leave and never return. Would that make you happy?

Emily: What? No!

Adam: Because it sounds to me like I’m no longer your brother!

Emily: That is not what I meant Adam and you know it! You hardly smile anymore, you’re always irritable and closed off. And you’ve shut everyone and anyone out! You’re even cold to Abel.

Adam: Don’t you dare bring him into this. In fact I’m done with this conversation entirely. I have an extermination day to plan out.

He turned to leave but gasped when he felt Emily grabbed onto his hand and when he tried to rip himself away from her hold he only sucked in allowing her to take his glove off.

Immediately he brought his bare hand close to his chest and covered it up with the loose sleeve of his robe.

If there was one thing Adam hates more than anything it was his own skin.

Adam: Give me my glove back!

Emily: Adam please, PLEASE, I can’t live like this anymore! Being shrouded in secrets and betrayal! By my own family no less!

Adam: ……Then maybe you should leave. Because that is just how Heaven is and never will it change its ways.

Without another word Adam turned on his heel and started walking over to the court’s exit.

Emily: ……WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!?!?

Adam: Enough Emily.

Emily: NO! Why are you so set in your own ways!? Why do you think this is the only way to protect Heaven!? I’m sure if we could find another way-

Adam: Emily-

Emily: We can come up with a more humane solution-

Adam: Emily-

Emily: Because I will not stand for my own brother turning everything I believe in to absolutely nothing!

Adam: Emily please-

Emily: No, why do you think this is good for the people!? Why do you go through with it!? Why have you been shutting me and Mom out!? What are you so afraid of!?

Adam: I SAID ENOUGH!!!!!

Emily and Adam both stopped in their tracks. Both angels felt their hearts thumping against their chests.

Emily stared at Adam’s back with tears forming. In all of her years never once had he ever spoken to her like that.

Adam: …..That is enough Emily.

Unfurling his wings he took flight and made sure that the young seraphim didn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Emily was left standing there trying to not shed any tears as she gripped tightly onto the piece of material belonging to her brother.

For little did she know that would be the very last time the two would speak to each other in the Heavenly realm.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hiiiiii, this is my first time requesting!

I was wondering if you could do nsfw head cannons for poly Reid and Hotcher, maybe like what their like in bed or their kinks. Kinda like a NSFW alphabet, anyways thxxx, Love, Cookie🍪💕

(18)+

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | i also want to preface this by saying i do not ship aaron and spencer, it's just for this dynamic, okay? okay. this turned out WAYY more smutty than you probably thought it was gonna be, and i'm kind of ashamed of myself, so i'm gonna go hide under a rock now, bye!

you are literally never without an orgasm like... ever.

there's always someone ready to touch you, it's like a 7/11 but for sex.

contrary to popular belief, i think the threesomes are kind of rare, because at the end of the day, they both have jobs and aaron is a dad.

but that's not to say that they don't happen, because when they do, they. are. glorious.

it's a whole lotta man let me just say that; big old meat sandwich.

aaron usually is the one that takes control during group situations. gives me heavy soft dom vibes than anything.

he definitely guides spencer on what to do, i.e how to please you, edge you, etc.

that isn't to say spencer gets a bit feisty and then you have two dominant men in your hands.

the dynamic is so incredibly balanced, and the fact that they're both so mature, there's rarely ever any conflict when it comes to sexual situations.

and that credit is being given to the incredible communication that's between the three of you.

i feel like neither of the men would be willing to enter a situation like this without a two way street of communication.

because at the end of the day they are colleagues.

rounding back to that, i feel like spencer takes up the sub role alongside you.

sometimes you two are just so whiny and needy that it's kind of adorable like...

there'll be moments where your touches are so clumsy, and uncoordinated, and aaron can't help himself but watch.

there's no rules on one-on-one contact with one another. you guys can have sex with each other without a third party present.

sometimes when one stays behind while the other goes out on a case, phone sex is a popular activity.

it helps to give the other person away some stress relief when they can.

alright, so i have this scenario in my mind where both you and spencer worship aaron's cock together.

like both of you are on your knees sharing slobbery kisses all the whole you're stroking him.

STRAPPING.

you cannot tell me that there wouldn't be any strapping going on around here.

i already know there are moments where aaron and you gang up on spencer, either to play with him or to just get him out of his head using aaron's cock or yours.

a crazy amount of anal.

like y'all are lowkey a big fan of double penetration, it's one of the ultimate ways to get closer together.

also aaron and spencer do have sex with each other please ungrip your pearls.

i believe that if they're gonna be in a throuple, they're gonna go all the way. there's none of that no homo shit around here.

there will be boys kissing, and honestly one of aaron's favorite things to do is send you videos of him toying with spencer.

i'm talking in his office or on the jet, anywhere where there's even a lick of privacy, expect some nasty messages.

just thinking about the positions you guys get into is kind of ridiculous.

where spencer is more hesitant to try things, i think aaron is more open.

that's why i think there is some heavy bdsm involved in certain scenes, but not a lot because at the end of the day one of 'em is an old man and he can't get down like that.

he damn sure does try though.

it's entertaining to see him with two younger partners, but there's just something about you three being together that just makes sense

you keep him on his toes - yes, the dirty picture and video sending go both ways.

it's to a point where inside of work hours, if aaron sees a text from either you or spencer when he isn't in office with him, he makes sure to turn that brightness down.

lord knows how he'd explain his girlfriend sending him a video of her jerking off his subordinate while he's moaning his name.

even though it is a nice sight to see.

the three of you are very private with your arrangement.

not because you're ashamed or that you think anyone on their team would judge you guys, it's just that they are relentless.

old man grouchy aaron hotchner and loser boy genius spencer reid being in a throuple?! yeah, go ahead and sound the alarms, because tonight's drama is good.

so, you three just like to keep your little paradise to yourselves, though the others aren't stupid.

though you don't work with them, spencer and aaron are almost always together, so there's bound to be some boyfriend actions that take place on accident.

especially if the two of them come out of the same room together and one looks a little disheveled.

besides that, i think they are very kinky when it comes to your sex lives, and i think there's something new every time it happens.

[gingerale13]

I churned this out so fast excuse the quality.. anyways there's a cheesy ass note to my mutuals + followers under the cut bc I love you guys 🧡🧡

This year kinda whizzed by for me! A lot happened in my personal life that I don't want to share online, but throughout all of the highs and lows I was always able to come back to this wonderful fandom. It's been a huge comfort seeing other people theorize and discuss my favorite characters!

I've meet a lot of awesome people through Tumblr & Ao3, cosplaying, and various TF2 groups. As of writing this post I've got a solid 260 followers, which is an insane number to me when this blog simply started as a place to organize my creative works 😭

All of the little tags and comments on my stuff have seriously kept my life whimsical (for lack of a better term) and I would like to shout-out some notable people and works that kept me going through 2024!

First up, and probably the biggest one, is the lovely @aussie-bookworm and their fic, Going Through The Motions. These updates seriously made my day, and I couldn't have been happier you accepted my offer to proofread. It's been super fun discussing the differences between our countries, yapping about the Mercs, and different AUs. I hope to read many more of your works in 2025 B)

Next, another fanfic author, is AhChunta! If you like slow burns, mystery, and Speeding Bullet, I would really recommend Stolen Pieces. It's a super cool crime boss AU that I've been enjoying this year. Plus it deserves more attention!

Another awesome artist is @800db-cloud, who is honestly CARRYING the Freak Fortress fandom. I love how silly your depictions of those freaks are 🧡 and also YOUR ARTSTYLE IS SO COOL AND SATISFYING TO LOOK AT ARGHHH.. You're just super awesome 👍 also shout-out to @riskreward1, my chillest mutual. I think your Getting Milk comic series is hilarious and amazing, but seeing all of those other fandoms you draw is like a gateway drug to me because it's drawn in your KICKASS artstyle‼️plus you like The Mountain Goats and that's based

@thechocolatearmor!! The other Medic Cosplayer I met at my first con!! My friends still mention the in-character convo we had, you were hilarious and I'm so glad I got your Tumblr because I love reading all of your takes on reblogs. I hope I see you again so we can be insane together again 🔥

also @mikimel, I admire how silly you are 😭 I still have that little doodle you drew at the con, and I wish your Tomodochi Miis well <3 AND THE SOLLY FIGURE. He's beautiful. Your fashion sense is fire, and I hope to see more of your cosplay projects! :0 (specifically Soldier Miku. If that's still a thing hehe)

@ivvyzzspark you. You know what you did.

Another HUGE thanks to my very very patient proofreader @emiette for helping me make Crates readable! Em dashes are my new favorite form of punctuation.

And lastly I would like to thank @mvabank because you were the one who made me start rotting over TF2 in the first place 🫶 Magmas were always so fun with you and the image of your little sona with the big ass eyes is forever seared into my brain <3

Maybe it's because 2025 is divisible by 5, but I have a feeling this year is going to be a good one. Stay safe out there, people! Cheers 🥂

[a-tired-human-draws-junk]

LU Four headcanons + Minish cap thoughts

EDIT: HELP I DIDNT MEAN TO POST THIS YET💀 fuck it we ball

So I've been playing minish cap and I'm having a great time it's so fucking whimsical and lovely everybody ever should play it right now but it made me realise how little?? Minish cap stuff gets mentioned in linked universe??? like where is my funny little figurine collection I spent thousands of shells on, where is my cute minish lore, where is my cane of pacci, where are my KINSTONES!!!

Anyways this is basically me nerding out over Minish cap and sharing my new silly little thoughts on Four (and spreading my new knowledge to the fic writers please there is so much untapped potential here you dont understand😭)

I've never done this before so bare w me

Starting w KINSTONES

So much of this is kinstones why does nobody talk about them I've read hundreds of LU fics and did not even know they existed till I played minish cap

I think Four has just SO. MANY. KINSTONES.

He just has a bag of random kinstone pieces on him at all times

Imagine the chain all sitting around the fire one day and fours like "anybody wanna match kinstones?" And the others stare at him like... "bro what is even that 😭"

Another funny idea, he just goes through his bag and starts trying to match the pieces he has, one actually works and a chest just appears next to the chain and four is like "aw hell yeah that's some good luck"

Everybody else "four how did you just SUMMON TREASURE"

"Got lucky :]"

Imagine hes not even really known as a hero in his home town but as the kinstone guy™

They go to Fours hyrule and little kids will just come up to him like ",,kinstone,,?" And he will just whip out the biggest bag of kinstone pieces and grab the exact one needed to match

It's like a magic trick

Desperately need some good luck? Talk to the kinstone guy hes gotchu

Imagine the colors all get their own bags

He just has four bags of kinstones at all times (maybe five if they have a community pile)

(There are more at home)

Also animals? Can have kinstones?? I feel there is comedy potential in that

Four has a collection of silly little figurines he paid thousands of mysterious shells for and I need somebody to talk about it

He has over A HUNDRED SILLY LITTLE FIGURINES

I dont know what to do with this knowledge but it is important to me that people know that

Cane of pacci.

CANE OF PACCI

Please its concept is so fucking funny people need to use it more.

(I've seen it a few times but NOT ENOUGH!!)

Imagine dink shows up and gives an evil monologue and everyone is having an intense stare down and four just discreetly grabs his cane and zaps dink w it and he just fucking flips upside down smacks his head on the ground and passes out

LIKE PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT

Theres a hole in the ground and he just zaps it and jumps in and rolls around and fucking flings himself into the air

I've seen so many fics where Four can just shrink down at will and that's fine I like em but in game you have to use minish portals and it's a whole thing

And I've seen people utilizing portals which I love

But I need more funny moments so

In game they are so very inconvenient and some are so fucking funny to me

Four just walks into a house flips this beautiful, giant vase, upside down jumps on top and becomes smol

Like??😭 going into people houses and breaking their pots is a link tradition but just... flipping one upside down is for some reason incredibly hilarious to me

Or running head first into a tree using pegasus boots to reveal a portal

Somebody do something w these portals they are so incredibly good

Also piccori are SMALL

They are TINY

When I imagined the minish I was picturing a lil guy the size of my thumb maybe a little smaller

NO

THESE BITCHES THINK ACORNS ARE BIG!!

THEY ARE SO INCREDIBLY TINY!

MINISCULE!

I dont know what to do with that I just desperately needed to share

Imagine the picori lore potential yall

I've seen a few good ones but I NEED MORE LITTLE GUYS

Fours hyrule has a whole lotta beliefs and traditions about the minish me thinks

I mean they already have a festival about them

So imagine-

They find chips on the walls of their homes that are neatly shaped and nicely trimmed and they leave them, they take it as good luck, the picori are staying here

You see many of such spots in someone's home and you take them as kind, the picori stay with them

I think they abide by leaving picori paths

Random small planks connecting homes and making paths too small to walk are left where they are

If a plank starts decaying they leave a similar sized one nearby and the next day find the old one replaced and a kinstone lying nearby

If your flower pots neatly lined in a row suddenly have a small gap between two, keep it, the picori are passing by here

I think they make spaces in their homes for them

I think Four would go out of his way to leave space for the picori in his

Maybe he makes little houses he keeps in his yard or on a shelf or on the rafters or all of the above

Maybe he leaves out food in odd places and when it disappears he finds treasures somewhere nearby

He basically has a whole neighborhood of minish living in and around his house

I think Four has actually learned minish

Like yes he used the jabbernut to understand them initially but I think he went out of his way to properly learn it

And there are canonically different dialects, lil tidbit courtesy of Ezlo, so maybe hes learned multiple versions of minish

Imagine the funny moments where he just fucking starts saying smth in minish like "pico pipi pori co" and the chain stare at him and he just stares back like 'what?' "WHAT DOES PICOROCOPOIPO MEAN,??"

Hes just spent too much time as a tiny guy

[desperate-gay]

ok… i don’t know why but i get secret relationship vibes from stina.

what if reader is new to arsenal, she transfers cause of stina, and nobody knows their dating/married… reader says her girlfriend/wife’s name is emma (which is stina’s other first name) and all the girls keep bugging reader to meet her or see her at a game. then something happens when it’s like team game night where reader slips up and calls stina ems or emma and everyone’s like 😮

Meet The Wife

Stina Blackstenius x fem!reader

summary: the girls find out your married and just need to figure out to who

“Baby, time to wake up. You have to get ready so we can get our drills in before the game.” You say softly, moving the blonde’s messy hair to the side and rubbing your thumb up and down her cheek.

“I’m too sleepy.” Your wife grumbles into the pillow, making no movement to get up. Standing up, you sigh making it sound as if you’re just going to leave her bed but her wishes are soon destroyed when you yank the covers off her body and onto the floor.

“What was that for?” Stina exclaims, now sitting up in bed with an annoyed look pointed at you.

“Good, now that you’re up you can take a shower. You stink.” You fake grimace while folding the blankets that were on the ground. Too caught up in your head, you don’t notice the tall blonde towering over you from behind. Cold hands rest themselves below your shirt, causing you to jump in place.

“Maybe you can join me in the shower, kärlek.” She suggests, nipping at the skin of your neck as you shakily continue what you’re doing, trying not to give in.

“Nope.”

“Ugh, really? You’re going to turn down sex?” The taller girl throws her head back, groaning at your denial. All she needs as an answer is the stone expression plastered on your face. Your wife sighs and walks over to the closet to pick out her outfit for the day but not without mumbling under her breath in her native tongue.

“C’mon Stinky Blackstenius.” You joke which the other girl doesn’t find as amusing. She huffs and goes into your shared bathroom, slamming the door. “Ooo Stina Black-stinky-us. Much better.” You announce over the sound of the shower starting.

“I want a divorce!”

—

“Good game out there, speedy. Glad we snatched you up before anyone else could.” Katie pats your shoulder, passing you to get to her cubby.

Your transfer was pretty sudden but long-awaited, having played for Vittsjö in Sweden. You and Stina met each other when you both debuted on the national team. It both took you a while to admit your feelings for one another, but now here you are, married for 5 years.

No one knows besides your family and a few of your national teammates who’ve accidentally caught you making out in a storage closet. It’s not that you don’t want people to know, you both just enjoy your private life with no interruptions.

“It wouldn’t have been a tough choice anyway. I’d choose Arsenal in a heartbeat.” You proclaim, stripping out of your sweaty jersey.

“Why here?” Vic asks the question everyone is secretly wondering.

“The whole spirit here, the fans, the overall club just outshines the others, and I guess the people here aren’t too bad either.” You yelp as Kyra pokes behind your knee, making your leg weaken and almost make you fall. “You’ll regret that.” You point your finger at the younger girl with a scold.

After your shower, you’re brushing through your hair and gathering everything up in your bag, getting ready to leave as soon as possible to be able to lay around and relax with your wife. Just as you’re about to sling your bag over your shoulder, a sharp gasp stops you.

“Is that a ring?” Steph shouts, grabbing all the girl’s attention. Stina watches from afar with a small smile as the team hounds you with questions.

“Since when?”

“Who’s the lucky gal?”

“You’re engaged?”

“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

“Okay, okay. Yes, I have a ring, no, I’m not engaged.” You answer to which all the girls frown. “I’m married.”

An uproar is held all around the locker room along with several more questions. You sigh with an exhausted smile and answer short questions to the best of your ability.

“Her name is Emma and we have been married for a few years. She’s the light of my life and I could never ask for a better person to wake up to in the morning and go to bed to at night.” Everyone coos at the new information, all finding out their new teammate is in love while Stina looks across the room with a love-sick smile on her face.

“Can we meet her?”

“Maybe one day.”

—

A few weeks later, the pestering never stops. Every day before a game the girls beg you to bring your wife to one so they all can meet her. You and Stina snicker over how oblivious they are to the wife being her.

It was someone else’s turn to host movie night since Beth and Viv’s place is being occupied by a very wild puppy that wouldn’t allow a quiet movie time. Stina surprisingly offered, the house being big enough and the living room having many different seating arrangements.

“Are ya comin’ to Stina’s tonight for our annual movie night?” Katie asks, watching you do your squatted reps.

“Of course. I couldn’t miss if I wanted to.” You breathe out, setting the bar in its original spot. Katie quirks her head in confusion but shakes it off, moving to start her turn. As your head flips around, you catch your wife’s gaze set on your ass with no shame. You wave your hand to wake her out of her trance which it does but also makes her flush and turn back to her workout.

As 7 pm began to approach, many of the girls began showing up, all bringing snacks and beverages. Some of them asked why you were so early, so you just made up an excuse saying Stina needed help with setting up and they all believed it.

About half an hour later, everyone is here and settled in their designated spots. You’re currently scavenging through the kitchen looking for your candy that you bought. You huff before walking over into the living room.

“Em, do you know where my candy is?”

“Em?” Alessia quips confusingly.

Leah quickly puts two and two together and jumps up to hug both of you awkwardly with Stina still sitting down on the loveseat while you’re standing.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” She asks angrily, hitting both of you on the backs of your heads.

Multiple of the girls remain confused besides Viv, Lia, Kim, and Steph who are all smiling in their spots, waiting for everyone else to figure it out.

“Can someone explain here for those of us who don’t know what you’re talking about?” Kyra groans, not liking being out of the loop.

“Our new friend here has a wife we haven’t supposedly met before and her name is Emma.” Leah tries explaining, but the girls remain silent and confused.

“Stina’s first name is Emma! She just called her Emma even though no one else does. You guys comprehend?” The English Captain rushes out, waiting for everyone’s heads to shift. Soon multiple gasps are heard and you’re both quickly crowded by everyone.

“Everyone give my lady some space.” Stina interrupts, pulling you into her lap suddenly, making you shriek. “We get this information might be a little shocking but now you know.” She shrugs, smiling lovingly at you before kissing your cheek.

“A little shocking? Maybe try something bigger than that.” Beth scoffs with her arms crossed.

Once everyone gets their questions in, you all settle on a comedy movie and cuddle into someone. You remain seated in Stina’s lap with your head rested against her shoulder. She randomly kisses any part of your skin she can reach, enjoying not having to hide as much now.

“I have a question for you.” You whisper, turning your attention to the Swede.

“And what would that be?”

“Where’s my candy?” You whine from your lack of snacks which your wife finds adorable. She reaches beside her and pulls out a familiar colored bag.

“I had it ready with me right here, älskling.” Her hand holds up the bag away from your reach just as you’re about to grab it. You huff in annoyance and slump down into your previous position. “I need a little convincing to let you have these.” Stina smirks before perking her lips.

You roll your eyes at the once-shy girl who never wanted to show affection in front of her friends. Your hand grips her jaw, angling her face so you can smash your lips against hers. She hums into the kiss and soon traces her tongue along your bottom lip, but just before anything starts, a whistle grabs your attention.

“Oi lovebirds, get a room. We don’t wanna see you two swapping saliva.”

“Kyra, that is strike two, you better start running.”

[suzukiblu]

hi, question for you, have you ever experienced prolonged writer’s block before? do you happen to have any advice for getting a writing flow going again, that you’d be willing to share?

bc i don’t want to get too heavy in your asks, but between chronic illness/fatigue and longterm autistic burnout i haven’t been able to write a single word in several years now, and GOD am i tired of it. it’s like all the stories and words are stuck inside me and i can see it all in my head but the faucet is jammed and i just can’t get it OUT! i have been slowly feeling like the creative embers are maybe starting to spark again but it’s so hard not to get impatient with myself because it never seems to actually transfer to paper (or word document or notes app). any ideas or tips?

no pressure to answer this if you don’t want to of course, regardless i really enjoy your writing and i’m so glad that i can at least engage with fandom through other authors even when i can’t write my own stories! 💛

Oh god, yeah, I DEFINITELY have experienced that, hahasob. I have gone through at LEAST a year or two without, like, putting down a single word or even drawing anything, just total creative block/not there-ness. Like I feel u on that one, bud.

Good news: now if I write less than 2k in a day I think "oh that's kinda low, huh", so like . . . definitely "didn't write jack shit for [ INSERT TIME PERIOD HERE ]" has yet to sink me, and therefore fuck if it's gonna sink ANY of us. We persevere!!

So like, in my experience actually helpful writing advice is just SO wildly "you just gotta try shit 'til something works"-based that I'mma just give you a list made up of a bunch of, like, assorted tips and tricks that I use on myself to make my brain put words down when it's being stubborn about it, though different ones work at different times and obvi YMMV here anyway because for obvious reasons these are all approaches that I have tailored to my own needs, hah, and some of them are a bit facetious and some are also a bit heavy, but absolutely and unironically I reguarly use them all and they have all repeatedly worked for me.

Also, they're all gonna be goin' behind a cut because WOW there's actually a lot more of them than I realized I had, hahaha. The psychiatrist who recently used me as a case study told me I was very self-aware, so take from that what you will, friend.

Get up and do a chore/take a shower/eat a snack/literally just walk through a friggin' doorway, more often than not it'll at least make your brain reorient enough for you to realize you were just beating your head against a wall and need to do [ INSERT DAMAGE CONTROL/HARM REDUCTION BEHAVIOR HERE ].

Track your progress. Write to-do lists and cross shit off 'em. Keep track of your word count when you write; put it in a spreadsheet or a notebook or on a graph on your bulletin board.

Get a NEW way to track your progress. I currently use, like, three different "to-do list" apps to varying degrees in varying ways, not counting just my basic calendar app ( for the record: Finch, Structured, and just a generic notes app, but mostly Finch and Structured and seriously I CANNOT recommend Finch enough, go get yourself a bird buddy immediately. do you want a friend code, I will GIVE you a friend code, I think it gives you a bonus mini-pet or something if you use it. ), and also set myself MANY a phone alarm to remind myself of things that I need to do in case I space out or get distracted by somebody/something/the specific phase of the moon.

Did you take your meds? Take your fucking MEDS, self, good LORD.

Leave the house even if for literally, like, thirty seconds to just stand in some actual natural light. Or leave the house to go eat at a cafe or library or fast food place and just put yourself in a new environment for literally any length of time whatsoever.

Switch pens. Switch notebooks. Get a NEW notebook. Use your laptop instead. Use your PHONE instead. Get a nicer notebook. Get a shittier notebook. Use the scratch paper at work. Use the Procreate app on your friggin' iPad if you gotta, whatever, you do what you want!!

Don't write!!

Seriously just don't, go watch an actual scripted TV show or movie or read a book or a comic or some fic. Feed your brain something you didn't have to make up yourself.

Come up with a convoluted way to trick yourself into being accountable to someone else. Join a writing group. Make a Tumblr post about how you're gonna go write now. Ask Tumblr for their opinion on what you should write now. Ask Tumblr to spin this random wheel spinner game you generated and tell you what answer they got, and then write THAT.

HAVE you had a snack? Did you eat breakfast? Did you eat lunch? Did you remember to move around the house at any point whatsoever during the day? Maybe like, do that. Like, at least the snack part. Maybe a stretch or something wouldn't hurt either though.

Meal prep is so fucking useful and saves you SO much annoying time and also, like, makes you eat actual veggies and fruit and shit, genuinely actually works, the gym bros were not wrong, go figure. Also then you don't have to think about what you're gonna eat all the time and then cook it and then clean up and then--yeah anyway meal prep, god bless it. Once a week I make a batch of pasta salad and roast a pan of good-when-roasted veggies with like, garlic and salt and pepper and some olive oil and add bacon after, and then I portion it all into tupperware and in the morning I add spinach or crack an egg into that day's share of veggies for breakfast and maybe make some toast, and just grab one of the pasta salads whenever I want something lunch-like. It saves SO much time and distraction when you are hurting for free time/focus. So, SO much.

Unfortunately the gym bros were also correct about exercise, if that's doable for you. Exercise does in fact make you feel better and more energized and less depressed, fuck those guys for being right about that shit. Assuming you have enough iron in your blood to actually, like, do it, which admittedly I frequently do not, but the point stands.

Dude why are you even trying to write, you're so tired, go to bed and get up early, you write SO much better in the mornings anyway.

Hey, I know that's how you USED to write, but like, is that actually how you write right now? Is that actually even what works for you anymore? Actually maybe outlines COULD be helpful or maybe you don't need all those worldbuilding notes all at once; maybe your inner architect needs to let the building decay and go back to nature or maybe your inner gardener has developed a taste for trellises, metaphorically speaking and all.

Please eat something. Also please DRINK something. Like ideally water but we'll go for anything that involves a liquid, seriously.

Hey did you know actually if you ONLY eat instant ramen and microwave pizza you'll probably get scurvy and die instead of, like, writing your magnum opus? Like probably?? Put a fucking egg in that ramen, man! Slice up a scallion in that bitch!! EAT AN ACTUAL WHOLE FRUIT or at least, like, buy a smoothie with actual fruit involved somewhere in it on occasional. The whole fruit, unfortunately, is better. I like apples. Apples take a REAL long time to rot if I forget they exist for a couple weeks or whatever. But like, mango smoothies are also the shit, can't turn down a mango smoothie or a good strawberry-banana. Hey did you know the grocery store just, like, will let you just buy one single apple and they don't give a fuck? You're free! The cashier won't remember you in five minutes!! Buy your one single apple and work your way up to maybe two apples next time!! Also now I want an apple!!!!

Don't write. Don't write THAT. Write the other thing. No, the OTHER other thing. No, not THAT other other thing.

The rules are made up and the points don't matter.

Fuck it, we ball.

[ INSERT FULL-THROTTLE STIMMING BEHAVIOR HERE ]

Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic.

God, that's the weirdest fucking idea you've ever had, literally NO ONE but you would read it. So you should write 180k of it and also make it even weirder and yes it will absolutely be the one fic that just about everyone in MCU fandom who knows you exist knows you for, don't even worry about it, this isn't based on a true story at all.

Actually you could probably storyboard this scene to figure out wtf is happening here. Or like just draw literally anything related to this story, a bit of that might work some kinks out of the whole process.

Did you get that snack yet?

Hey go pet your dog, she's very soft and wants attention and also her OWN snack. Pet your dog and eat an apple and idk watch some anime or a weird niche documentary or an even more niche reality show, have you seen Deep-Fried Dynasty yet, it's on Hulu and was surprisingly engrossing.

Why are you even following the rules, we've been over this, they are made up and the points do NOT matter, and also you're not even getting graded for this anyway.

Yeah okay that thing you wrote sucked, but it turns out that Dean Koontz somehow has a writing career and also Twilight happened to all of us, so actually even the suckiest thing you ever write is gonna be better than the perfect ideal of the scene in your head, because the suckiest thing you ever write is something OTHER people can READ. And again: Dean Koontz has a career. Colleen HOOVER has a career. And fucking good for them, they're killing it, they are fucking WRITING!! Who gives a damn anyway, fix it in editing if you're that worried about it, they call it a rough draft for a reason.

Hey if that thing doesn't work you can just, like, delete it. Or rewrite it. Or stick it in your back pocket and do something else for a while. The sunk-cost fallacy is bullshit and you don't have to listen to it.

Maybe drink some more caffeine, that'll calm you down. [ DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE OF ADVICE TAILORED TO A PERSON WITH MORE ADHD THAN LITERALLY NINETY-FIVE PERCENT OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH ADHD; THAT PERCENTAGE IS ON THE ACTUAL LEGITIMATE DIAGNOSTIC PAPERWORK ]

Seriously you can just write anything you want, nobody can stop you. Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic enough that that's like, thirty-seventy odds at BEST.

God that idea is so niche and weird and niche, better tone it the fuck down to--oh wait no mass appeal means you're writing popcorn and literally no one will remember it in five minutes anyway, stop reflexively censoring yourself for some imaginary audience that will just chew straight through your one-size-fits-all story for The Content(tm) and then immediately move onto the next one without even bothering to hit "kudos" or remember anything about it later. I have written shit so weird that people still remember how weird I was TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, man, and that is why literally anyone will EVER remember that you exist or wanna read your stuff or follow you to a new fandom where they don't even know the source material, fuck it, they'll wiki some shit. And also who cares anyway, it's YOUR stuff and YOU wanna read it. Your agnostically-possible god did not make you this weird and niche for no reason, don't pussy out now!!

Actually you can just write in the bath/on the bus/while waiting for your roommate to finish up with the guy running this estate sale. You've got your phone, right? Fuck it, pack a notebook. Pack an extra notebook. Pack a smaller notebook. Pack a BIGGER notebook.

It's not stupid if it works. You don't have to do what literally ANYONE else is doing, you just have to do what works.

You can literally just skip to the good part and write that, actually. Nobody's gonna throw you in writer-jail. What are we, cops?? Actually do you even need this lead-up here or do you just need to write this one specific blorbo gettin' laid REAL enthusiastically kinkily and/or maybe having a nervous breakdown sobfest over their perception of their personal self-worth and everything else is kinda just window dressing??

I mentioned the snack thing, right? Also sugar rushes are fake but sugar CRASHES are real so maybe be a little careful on that one, maybe buy some trail mix/jerky/smoked salmon, smoked salmon is SO good, smoked salmon is just objectively delicious.

Go talk somebody's ear off about what you're trying to write about. Bonus points if you can find somebody who matches your freak enough that you write, uhhhhh /checks smudged writing on wrist/ a 60k Overwatch fic in two weeks and also like 280k of Witcher fic in less than a year specifically because they're just a real good cheerleader. Wow. Wow that was a lot more Witcher fic than I was aware I had written. THE POINT IS LOOK FOR A WRITING BUDDY, WRITING BUDDIES ARE THE SHIT.

If the writing buddy doesn't work out though the first time I won NaNoWriMo I did it directly out of spite because someone said they didn't think I actually would. So like, spite is always an option, you can always keep that one on tap if you gotta.

Stephen King did not write "On Writing" because he didn't want you to write. Francesca Lia Block did not introduce you to the weirdest and gayest shit teenage!you had ever read so you'd grow up and be a fucking NORMIE about this shit. SIR TERRY PRATCHETT DID NOT WRITE LIKE SIXTEEN OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT YOU TO WRITE WHAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY FRICKIN' INTO.

Clean your room. No, better than that. Okay fuck it just set a ten-minute timer and do what you can in that time, we work with the spoons we've got.

Random number generator. Random color generator. Random "hey followers here's a very oblique poll, don't even worry about what it's about, just click a button please and thank you".

Did you know the internet will just GIVE you free graphs/trackers/bullet journal page designs and you can just print 'em out and do whatever the heck you want with 'em?? Yes my new little "color in the squares every day you do the thing" tracker IS just six daily writing tasks and two daily "just go pick some stuff up in this specific room" tasks and that is MY BUSINESS, MS. SIR AND MR. MADAM AND MX. [ INSERT BUZZER SOUND ]. And also, like, has done much better at getting me to do chores than anything else has in a minute, go fig.

You can actually just do whatever you want forever.

Literally, like just forever.

Fuck, how many times HAVE you done this? You'll never get better for good, it'll always go bad again, you'll always get sick again, you'll always get SAD again, you'll always fucking forget how to even DO this again and have to start all over.

Well yes, obviously, because you'll always have done it again. So do it again. One more time.

( seriously though did you take your meds-- )