#even i can mostly feel it more than i can hear it

[kainuhsblog]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ I'm Better Than Him

prompt         when jeongin got the text from you that you were upset at him, he rushed over to your favorite take out spot and got you extra chocolate. what he didn't expect to see when he got there though, was you on your couch CUDDLING SOME OTHER DUDE?! pairing          idol!jeongin x fem!reader genre           misunderstandings, established relationship, fluff, humor (idk, it seemed funny in my head at times) warnings      mentions of infidelity, jeongin being a weirdo, chan being the root of the problem word count  1,450 (i had fun!) a/n                 hi! i'm back! i can't really remember what inspired me to write this (since i took too long to actually write) but here's something short and sweet for my bias jeongin! want more skz posts from me? check them out here, here, here and here!

“I sure hope whoever that man is on your shoulder can fight, because I’m about to knock him out!” is what startles you out of your drowsy state, eyes widening in shock as you turn to see your boyfriend placing a bag on the counter and rolling up his sleeves. 

You blink at him a few times, mostly to blink the sleep out of your eyes, and partially to figure out what he was even talking about. The person he mentioned makes no headway to move from your embrace. 

“What?” you stupidly ask, eyes still trying to blink away the sleep, not noticing how red in the face your boyfriend has gotten. 

“The guy with his head on your shoulder? Hugging you? In YOUR APARTMENT? WITH NO REGARD OF THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?!” Jeongin exclaims, getting louder and louder by the sentence. 

“Jeongin, sweetie, what in the world are you talking about?” You sleepily inquire, watching as his eyebrows hide behind his bangs and try to touch his hairline from the shock that morphs on his face. 

Jeongin makes a gruntled sound that mixes disbelief and surprise in his tone, walking closer to the couch with heavy steps that vibrate the room. 

“So I’m seeing things? Are you literally not cheating on me right now?” He accuses. 

You move your eyes from your boyfriend of almost three years to scope your surroundings. Your eyes drag across the room, taking in your shelves with figurines and books, smoothing over to your tv that displays your 439th rerun of Avatar: The Last Airbender, catching the glint of the plates and utensils that sit on your coffee table, before coming to look at the arms that encase your body. You look up to see the face on your shoulder, and in your half asleep haze, you crack a smile at the head that rests on your shoulder. 

“And you have the audacity to smile at him like I’m not standing here! What qualities does he have that I don’t, huh? I’m pretty sure that I’m better than him. I can sing, I can dance, I can cook, I crack the funniest jokes, I have the best style, I come at your literal beck and call?!?! What does he have on me, huh?” Your boyfriend starts to spiel, hands raising and falling as he runs his mouth a mile a minute about the conclusion he seemed to jump to all on his own. 

The body beside you moves slightly, adjusting himself as he hears the shouts of his bandmate above him. He opens his eyes slightly, head pounding as he takes in the noise. Then, he moves from you to stretch his body, bones cracking satisfyingly at the movement. He looks up when he notices the noise dying down around him. 

Jeongin’s bandmate takes a look at you, then at Jeongin, then raises his hand up with a small smile to greet him.

“You’re cheating on me with my HYUNG?!”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Jeongin kneels before you, head bowed in remorse as he looks at the fluff on your inside slippers. The embarrassment swirls in his chest faster than a blender can make a smoothie. The shame slaps pain onto his stomach quicker than the butterflies of anxiety can flap its wings. 

He doesn’t even look up when he feels his groupmate pat him on his back reassuringly. All he feels is shame. He wants to cry from the amount of embarrassment that threatens to crawl up his neck from his chest. 

“Jeongin, can you at least look at me?” You ask him softly, watching as your boyfriend shakes his head swiftly in response. 

You turn your head over to Chan, who scratches his head in indifference. He yawns a second later, and that tells you that he still feels sleepy. At least one of you can close your eyes and sleep right now. 

You stretch your hand out to touch your boyfriend’s face, placing your fingers under his chin to guide his gaze to you. When you see his flushed cheeks and watered eyes, your gaze softens, and you chuckle innocently. 

“I’m sorry.” Jeongin says once his eyes find yours. 

“I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating on me. That was not right of me to do, and it was not right of me to grip Channie hyung by the collar like that either.” Jeongin finishes, eyes looking from you to his hyung and then back to the floor. 

“No looking at the floor Jeongin. C’mon, let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” You ask him, using your fingers to nudge his face up some more. 

“Now, I can’t say I’m not upset with you right now for wrongfully accusing me as soon as you step into my apartment.” You start off, moving your hand over to the side of his face to tap them whenever he moves his eyes away from yours. 

“The fact that you tried to fight me was very surprising as well, Innie.” Chan says from the arm of the couch that he decided to sit on. 

“I would just like to know how you even came to that conclusion. What brought this on?” You ask him, watching as his hands start to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. 

Jeongin makes no move to look from your eyes, especially since your hand is now on his cheek instead of his chin, but he can’t exactly find the words to say to justify his thought process.

He got a text that you were upset with him, so he ran over to fix whatever it was that he messed up on. Then he walks inside your apartment to see someone cuddling you, comforting you. The sight made his blood boil like no other, and despite being a very rational guy, his thoughts just tumbled out of his mouth with no warning. 

When he explains this to you, all he gets is a head tilt of confusion in return. 

“When did I send you a text? The last time I remember talking to you about anything was this morning.” You ask, eyes narrowed and face contorted to express your emotions clearly. 

“You sent me a text thirty-five minutes ago?” Jeongin answers back, equally as confused. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, holding it to his face so that it can open. It opens right to your message, so he turns the phone around to show you. 

“Yang Jeongin, I am actually so upset with you right now, when you get home you will pay?” You read off, ending your reciting with a tilt of bewilderment at the message. 

“I don’t remember texting this to you darling.” You tell him after racking your brain for a minute and a half to figure out what could’ve happened for you to even send that message. 

You and your boyfriend don’t notice the person who stiffens beside you until you hear him clear his throat. 

“Ah, that was actually me.” Is all Chan confesses at first, shying away slowly from the looks that you and Jeongin were giving him. 

“You ate the last bit of cookie butter at the dorm, so I came to (name)’s place to ask for hers and vent about it. I think I picked up her phone by accident when I went to text you. My bad.” He spills out, avoiding both of your gazes as the words process in your brains. 

Jeongin looks over to the coffee table to see that there were two phones with the exact same case lying there. Then he notices how one phone was white and the other … was black. 

Jeongin taps your hand slightly, giving you the hint to move your hand away. You move your hand from his face. 

Jeongin then stands up for a second, looking at his hyung for a few seconds with an unreadable expression. 

Then Jeongin grips his hyung again by the collar. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You eat your favorite takeout with a giddy smile on your face, watching the scene where Toph swindles the man out of money and safely manages to keep Sokka’s sword. 

“Want some?” You ask the guy to your left, who shakes his head no at your question. 

Jeongin kneels in front of your shelf with four books in his hands above his head, eyes staring at the floor of your apartment in shame. Chan readjusts the ice pack on his jaw as he yawns once again. 

You laugh a bit at the words Toph says to Katara, and tell your boyfriend to lift those books higher in the air.

That’ll teach him not to jump to conclusions like that ever again.

[mariasont]

A Simple Rinse Would've Sufficed - A.H

summary: sweetheart!reader is completely convinced hotch's first aid response is overboard

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader

warnings: dbf aaron hotchner, teeny tiny cut on readers hand, pre-relationship, reader being lil obsessed with hotch

wc: 0.9k

"This really isn't necessary," you murmur, but the words lack conviction, trailing off before they can land.

Hotch doesn't look up. Doesn't hesitate. Just finishes unscrewing the cap on the antiseptic like he didn't hear you—or more likely, he did, and didn't care for the argument.

It was just a scratch. Practically invisible. Nothing to fuss over. But apparently, Hotch is operating under some kind of every minor injury is a security threat policy.

Which felt especially ridiculous considering you'd just walked away from an arrest unscathed. You'd spent the last twenty-four hours proving yourself—running down leads, securing evidence, even keeping up with the rest of the team during the suspect pursuit. You were proud of that. 

And then you got back to the precinct, went to grab a file from one of those awful old metal drawers, and bam. A tiny, inconsequential scrape across your palm. You had survived actual violence, only to be bested by office furniture.

So now you were getting a full medical exam over something that wasn't even visible unless you really squinted.

You shift on the edge of the table, legs swinging, mostly because sitting still feels impossible under his touch. His hands are big—bigger than you realized until now. Strong, but you'd say also careful, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly against your skin as he holds you in place. The sensation sends an unsteady type of warmth curling up your spine, landing somewhere behind your ribs.

"It's barely even a cut," you say, attempting to sound exasperated instead of—whatever this was. "Like, I'm pretty sure I've had worse from opening candy wrappers."

That earns you a look, and you instantly shrink under it.

Not a harsh look, not even an annoyed one—just Hotch's look. That's explanation enough. The kind that makes you feel like you should probably quit while you're ahead, but also makes you realize you're probably not capable of quitting while you're ahead.

So, naturally, you keep talking.

"I mean, I really don't think this requires a whole medical response, sir," you add, the nervous energy bubbling under your skin making it impossible to shut up. You clamp down on the urge to chew your lip, shifting slightly under his attention.

The antiseptic meets your skin with a sharp little sting, and you suck in a breath, fingers twitching like you might actually yank your hand away from your boss.

Hotch doesn't even blink. Just presses a little firmer, holding your wrist steady like he already expected you to flinch. "Hold still."

And gods help you, but something about it turns your thoughts into white noise.

It's nothing. Objectively, logically—nothing. Just Hotch being careful, thorough, like he is with everything.

Except his hands are warm. Rough in a way that makes your breath feel a little short, moving over your skin with a level of care that shouldn't make you feel nearly as dizzy as it does.

You blink, zeroing in on the plain, standard-issue bandage he's peeling open—completely unremarkable, completely ordinary. Like forcing your brain to register on the most boring detail in the room will make you stop spiraling. 

"It's just funny," you blurt, because the silence is suffocating, and you're panicking a little.

Hotch gives you a look, not quite questioning but not dismissing either.

You clear your throat. "I mean, you do realize you've done more for this than most people would do for, like, a full-on stab wound, right?"

A pause. Just long enough for you to start regretting speaking at all.

And then—to your absolute horror—something shifts. A flicker of amusement. So quick, so barely there, you might've imagined it.

Oh no.

You'd almost prefer it if he just ignored you. If he shut you down with that infamous serious look he always wore. This, the possibility that you might've entertained him for even half of a second, was infinitely worse.

His thumb smooths over the bandaid, pressing it into place, and your body locks up.

Because he doesn’t move away.

For a second—maybe less, maybe nothing at all—his touch lingers, barely there but there, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin adhesive. He’s still holding your hand. His thumb still resting against you, light, thoughtless. Like he doesn’t even realize it.

You should move.

You should say something.

You should not be sitting here, waiting to see if he notices.

Then, as quickly as it happened, it’s over. Hotch lets go, caps the antiseptic, and steps back like it never happened.

"There," he says, so even, so unaffected, like none of this was anything. For him it probably wasn't. "You'll live."

You exhale a laugh—too thin, too breathless—like your brain is trying to reset itself, like you weren’t this close to total system failure. “Well, thank God. I was getting worried.”

He doesn’t react, doesn’t even glance up at you as he secures the first-aid kit back in place. “Check in with Prentiss before you go.”

You nod—too fast, too much—and push yourself off the table, legs feeling weirdly unsteady, like you’ve been sitting too long. That’s all this is. You just need to walk it off.

And then he's gone. You stare at your hand, fingers flexing experimentally. 

“You do realize that was entirely unnecessary.”

You jolt, turning so fast you almost trip over yourself. Reid is standing there, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he’s studying something under a microscope.

You blink. "I—what?"

Reid gestures toward your hand. “That wound wasn’t significant enough to require antiseptic or dressing. A simple rinse would have sufficed.”

You stare. Your brain is still buffering—half stuck-on Hotch, half trying to figure out how Reid manages to be the weirdest and most correct person in any given room.

"I—uh." You clear your throat. "Good to know."

Reid nods. "Just thought you might find that interesting."

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taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

[thepitlanepress]

NEVER TOO BUSY FOR YOU –

↳ oscar piastri + gf!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: i like to think im the sweetest person alive so this is written for my girl nadsies while she isnt having the greatest day ever. just a short lil fic bc im working on the smau pt2 and some other ones ;)

you dont like bothering oscar when he's at work. its a weird thing you have, one that oscar's tried getting out of your head on more than one occasion. does it stick? no.

the cramps you had been feeling for the entire day had made it almost impossible to move, so you weren't exactly able to reach your phone to tell oscar either.

that is a fact you use in a later argument. which by the way doesn't work.

so when the door to your apartment swings open and you hear your boyfriend's voice, you nearly flat out start crying. its so nice to hear a comforting sound.

"sweetheart?" oscar calls out for a second time when you don't reply, even talking feels like too much right now. you hear some shuffling around and then the soft footsteps as he walks down the hallway.

"hey, baby," he murmurs when he enters the room, coming to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. his hand comes to rest on your back rubbing slowly through the duvet. "how are you feeling?"

a noncommittal grunt escapes you and you wince in pain as another wave of cramps hit you like a train. fuck periods actually.

oscar sensing your situation quickly, he gets up and places a quick but soft kiss to your forehead before walking back out to the kitchen promising to be back soon. you stay awake for a little while but eventually the sounds of him moving around, and the soft clinking of dishes quickly puts you to sleep.

it was a comfort knowing someone else was home with you.

some time later you feel a dip in the bed beside you, two arms wrap around your waist and pull you into their warmth.

"hey you," you whisper.

"hey you," he whispers back his hand drawing circles on your skin. "are you feeling better after that nap?"

"sort of," you sigh. "mainly im-"

"hungry?" oscar guesses, you can hear the smile in his voice and you slowly sit up, cautiously testing different positions before finding one that doesn't make you feel like you've been shot.

you look over at oscar who has turned away bringing a tray of snacks over from the bedside table. it has all your favourite snacks, chocolates, your phone and a warm cup of tea.

"i called mum, while you were asleep earlier," he said almost nervously. "and asked her what type of tea to use because i was worried and wanted to help and she said to use-"

you shut him up by placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth "its perfect thank you osc," you settle back against the pillows - and him, okay mostly him. his arms are wrapped around you as you soak in the quiet afternoon, the soft sound of the show you had playing on your computer earlier the only noise in the room.

"why didn't you call me?" his voice rumbles through you.

"i didn't want to bother you while you were at work," you look down to the cup of tea in your hands and realise now that you probably won't be winning this conversation. there is no one who cared more about you than the man currently wrapped around you. he would drop anything in a second for you.

hence why you didn't call him. he cant be distracted from work. its so important to you.

but he won't take that as an answer.

"you know i always have time for you, sweetheart, i'm never too busy for you. you're my number one priority. always."

the cramps didn't seem so bad after that.

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— should’ve kept quiet —

Warnings: angst, slight fluff

Summary: Jason’s told some new information that has him reeling.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (mostly focused on Jason’s relationship with Dick and Bruce)

A/N: I saw this prompt on TikTok in passing and it stuck. I’m pretty sure it’s an original Tumblr post so if anyone can find it, let me know. Enjoy this small drabble!

DC M.List || Navigation M.List || MCU M.List

Jason stared at you in disbelief, your previous words knocking the air out of him as they continue to echo in his mind. He let out a breath that sounded more like a squeak than he would’ve liked. But he couldn’t bring himself to care after the bombshell you had dropped on him.

“I’m Bruce’s first legal kid?” He repeated your words in a question. It didn’t make any sense.

Dick had been Bruce’s ward much before and longer than he had even been in his presence. Dick and Bruce were the original duo, the kid who started the whole Robin mantle, made up the name, the costume, and everything else. Dick was the one who had named the Batmobile and the Batcave and everything else with the word ‘bat’ in front of it.

How could Jason be the first legal kid? Unless—

“He never adopted Dick?” Jason’s voice is pathetically breathless. In shock. He didn’t care about how he sounded because, even though he’s had his differences with Dick, he was angry at Bruce for not adopting him.

Jason’s heart dropped at another realization.

“He wasn’t ever really my brother?” Jason’s voice cracked. He could see your building guilt, but his own emotions, lying heavy in his heart and unable to process yours in that moment.

“You two are brothers,” you tried to console, but you both knew it a futile attempt at deflection. The harsh truth was that Bruce had never legally adopted Dick and by extension had never legally made Jason and Dick brothers.

Jason tried to calm himself. “So… that means…” he couldn’t even say it out loud without feeling like he was hearing nails on a chalkboard. His heart squeezed unbearably as he thought about not being Dick’s brother.

His real brother.

Dick had been everything to him throughout his childhood. The one who had shaped and trained him to be a better Robin than himself. He had been there when Bruce was too busy to attend a school concert. Dick had been the one to teach him how to ride a bike.

His older brother, through and through.

So how could Bruce not adopt Dick? The mere thought was ridiculous. Dick was the perfect son. He was always ready to listen, always there for his siblings and Bruce, and never turned his back on his family. So why didn’t Bruce adopt Dick?

His eyes met yours, steeled and determined. “I need to go to the Manor,” he said, but he knew you already knew what was coming.

“Should I—”

“No,” he answered, pressing a chaste kiss to your hair as he walked around the couch. He grabbed his leather jacket and motorcycle keys before he turned to grab the helmet you were now holding outstretched. “I gotta do this on my own.”

You kissed his nose. “Call me if there’s anything.”

He managed a small smile. “Always.”

[himbopunk]

For hakim: i think the concept terrifies him cuz hes scared of commitment so itd take a little bit post-game to feel comfortable with the idea but eventually the idea that he wants to spend his life with lucanis nests in his brain and the second lucanis proposes he Will say yes. (Not sure how this is working with the neve throuple situation. i feel like shed be similarly a bit touchy on it and i feel like hakim just barrels into the subject one day like. Hey neve you wanna get married and shes like what the hell rook). i feel like the wedding would be in antiva, though rook would kind of prefer to do it back in rivain, i think theres a certain amount of appeasing caterina that has to be done. he is wearing as much as his rivaini gold and such as possible though. oh god i want to design wedding outfits now.

i think esp w the throuple sitch that the actual ceremony is done first fairly privately, so its like caterina, illario (lol), teia, viago, the veilguard so davrin, bellara, emmrich, taash, i'm undecided if they ever manage to track down hakim's dad but if not theyd leave a seat open for him and harding despite knowing they wont be there & isabela is there cuz shes the closest thing hakim has to family at this point. i dont. Know if neve has living family i never remember seeing her talk about it??? shrug. maybe rana and tarquin show up. uhhh strife, antoine and evka. thats it. the reception though? oh buddy the reception is a party, tons of crows, lords, raiders and even some shadow dragons in one place means someone is getting poisoned (alcohol or otherwise) and something is getting blown up by the end of the night.

traditions wise i feel like its mostly a traditional antivan wedding that teia and caterina did most the planning for with rook occasionally throwing in some must haves for rivaini like. theyd all be tiny superstition things you do at weddings like to appease spirits n such. which is funny bc i dont think hakim generally comes off as superstitious but hes a sailor at heart i guess. i think seer rowan officiates also for this reason. i think neve has some little things she brings to it as well but i cant. Think of anything specific other than like food and attire

for iktom... he heard that dialogue w harding and emmrich where emmrich says hed hoped hed get married someday and is immediately hearing wedding bells. he struggles to wait until the endgame to ask about it and i think emmrich and him had both mentally prepped a whole thing on how to approach the subject but in reality what happens is theyre doing a small mission in arlathan or something helping out in the postgame and when they defeat whatever it is iktom blurts out DO YOU WANNA GET MARRIED and kills emmrich on the spot DHFKSKGKS trying to figure out who the funniest third person to be here would be. i can picture bellara there like omg... i dont think iktom cares Where the wedding is, though i dont think he wants a huge to do about it. i think it happens in nevarra and its a fairly closed event... more than Just Family probably but nothing spectacular.

emmrich does a lot of the planning, iktom only has a small handful of anderfel traditions to add to the mix (i think his first wedding was mostly dwarven in tradition so they may be things he didnt get to do then and kinds regretted not doing) (i think theres like One qunari thing also he talks to taash about cuz the qunari dont exactly. Have marriages under the qun so?? but maybe theres other ideas of partnership n such or a symbolic gesture that still works & emmrich is very excited to incorporate). I know emmrich is going to serve absolute cunt in the outfit he picks god. iktom is going to pass out. i feel like one of them cries. iktoms outfit is fairly plain in comparison but maybe has a little flair cuz lucanis helped with it. get him a nice little like shoulder cloak situation idk.

i think antoine and/or evka officiate the wedding, mamfreds the ringbearer For Sure. a bunch of mourn watchers and a handful of spirits that emmrich is friendly with are there, including hezenkoss' skull fsr. handful of wardens, iktoms father if hes still alive by this point. his ex wife, and staalgard (who is buddies w his ex wife And harding atp so.) i think illario viago and teia show up with lucanis and neve. (at one point illario starts flirting with iktoms ex wife and lucanis warns him hes playing with fire) (if bouquets are tossed taash reaches over everyone to grab it and harding is very flustered about it)

Hey, hope you all had a good weekend! Unfortunately, it’s Monday =/ Fortunately, it’s time for Rook Intro Hour! 🍀🌺🌼🌸

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): Does your Rook want to get married to their LI(s)? Do they care about where? Is there a specific tradition/traditions they want to follow, when they do? Who would they invite? What would they wear?

Have fun & thanks for sharing!

[d-emeter]

Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

[unpanzito]

can you yap about your ideas for ur jeff rewrite :3

Alright, sorry for taking long to answer, I literally had nothing when you asked "x(. Now I kind of do. First of all, I'm not trying to make a super original and fantastic version of Jeff, I wanna keep it close to the "canon" and just give my little turn to it, my original part starts with Zalgo's deal, what happens before it's not very important to me.

Liu is like 5 years older than Jeff.

Jeff's accident happens when he's like 16.

Jeff already had schizoid personality traits before any accident or even suffering from bullying.

There's not a specific group of bullies, all of Jeff's classroom either talks about him at his back, excludes him or ignores him for being kind of a psycho, for his appearance, or Jeff himself provokes it 'cause thinks they're all stupid and boring, so he scares them on purpose. Randy is the one Jeff hates the most, mostly 'cause Jeff is not capable of scare him away.

Jeff's accident, and yes it was an accident, occurs in a school camp, a random kid brought their dad's flare gun 'cause they thought it was smart. At night many kids started gathering to see the gun, Randy came and grabbed it starting to aim at the sky, then he aimed at Jeff who was sitting alone in front of the campfire (it was slightly lit), deep in his thoughts, another kid came and tried to take the gun from Randy's hand, the gun shoots and hits the floor, bounces and hits Jeff in the face, exploding.

When Jeff's finally released from the hospital, Randy and his mom go to his house with a cake as a gift, Randy didn't want to be there at ALL 'cause he felt so guilty. He's sent to the backyard to search for Jeff, he can't find him at first, Jeff appears from his back and hits him with a wrench, he hits him until Liu comes running and throws Jeff off Randy, both mothers come after him. Randy is hospitalized with a very serious head concussion.

Jeff's actions were associated to his head traumatism and his brain being swollen (by the shot).

One night Jeff can't sleep and needs to take some medicines for which needs his mother's help. She was kinda pissed and done with him after Randy's and how overall aggressive he was getting, so his mother dismisses him and sends him to sleep. Jeff got really pissed off and abruptly decides to end it there, he goes to the bathroom and tries to swallow a bunch of pills, he fails 'cause he almost can't move his facial muscles and can barely open his mouth, so the pills fall to the floor. Jeff, already out of his mind, searches for a knife and comes back to the bathroom, starts to tear off the bandages closer to his mouth and after that, cuts two slits at the sides of his mouth. (These slits weren't as prominent as what my design has now).

Jeff can't feel his face, neither then nor now, but now he can move his facial muscles normally.

After Jeff slits his face, and checks that it kinda looks like a smile, laughs a bit, hears his mother walk through the hallway "Jeff, I told you to go to sleep". Then she opens the bathroom and sees Jeff. "Go to sleep, ma." says Jeff in a mocking tone (yes, laugh). There's no fight, the mother can't even scream, she faints. Idk what happens then but Jeff somehow kills her, I don't need to detail that.

After a while, Liu gets home, he's all messed up, drunk, high, everything. He sees Jeff sitting in the stairs in the dark. He tries to talk to him and ask if everything's alright, and when he goes to turn on the light right in the stairs, Jeff hits him with a mirror, that shatters in his face, he hits him like 3 more times and Liu ends up passing out 'cause of the hits, the fall and all the substance in his body. He wakes up minutes later in the same spot with a slit in his throat and cuts all over his face. You imagine all the stuff later.

I've already shared this part, where it all goes south, Jeff runs to a hiking trail or something and just lies down waiting to bleed out or die 'cause of the cold, and then a talking dog appears (Smile dog, which doesn't really talk, it's Zalgo) and offers him the deal of keep on living until "finishing what he started" (he has to kill Liu) or dying there and suffer forever.

For other part, Liu ends up being the one in jail because of the murder of his mother and the disappearance of his brother.

And that's what I have for now, at least what comes to "Jeff rewritten". I'm open to constructive criticism x), tho as I said, I don't want this to be neither the best story ever nor in any way believable, there's a demon-dog possessed by an interdimensional chaos being, idc if it's unrealistic :P.

[dr9com9ge-ix]

What If Sunshine Suburbia! Black acted more like Sprunki Mortality! Black?

HI ANON- I don’t know if you know how much Sunshine Suburbia would be affected by Black/Tenebrae not being a complete monster!!! So I hope you’re ready for the entire insane rambling my friends had to hear in a VC after I woke up to this ask!-

(Also for anyone here who somehow doesn’t know/ hasn’t read Sprunki Mortality go GO MY SCARAB, WITNESS IT. It’s great and I love it, Savior does a great job with the art and writing! ^^ and it’d probably help contextualize some of the changes to this particular scenario.)

So- I’m taking this as “He’s more of a tired old man, A bit exasperated by people. But overall kind of a normal reasonable dude.” So this scenario’s Tenebrae is basically!!! A god who is tired of being god and thus is in retirement, ascending the Sun and Moon to be his willing replacements (This happens when the two are adults so they aren’t condemned to being 12 year olds forever- Though that means they outlive their families. Their relationship with Black is akin to master to protégé/ Co-workers.) He’s mostly just minding his own business, There isn’t much of a stigma to knowing his name but he prefers to be left alone. He mostly just messes with his god powers to either have a small harmless kick (Making a stupid looking animal) or fixing small things that bother him and travels about Cacophony (Hitchhiking in people’s shadows)

At some point he ends up in the Spire monastery to check on the cult there because the Sun asked him to and basically found Jevin and his sisters who aren’t treated that well on the account of the sun worship and rituals being prioritized over their well being. (Also a note that in both in this scenario and in the original au that Black meets Jevin when he is around 17/18, with Ceruna the youngest sibling being 15 and Belilah being 20.)

So basically Black went “What the FUCK? Okay no- My kids now and also I’m telling the Sun you’re all out of your damn minds!” and took the siblings with him to go snitch on the cult to The Sun. The cult is disbanded because The Sun told them to knock it off rather than Black massacring people in there.

Now Black is a father of 3 whole kids and The Sun lets them live in the Sunshine Suburbs when it was made (It was made for similar reasons as the baseline au) and at some point in time Jevin finds Sky and adopts him (Also Jev and Sky are both really into biology with Jevin actually becoming a professor.), Ceruna gets married to her girlfriend, And Beliah becomes a Lighthouse keeper— And like… Sky is so much more carefree and gets to be a kid rather than feeling the need to protect his dad / Having severe trust issues.

They’re pretty much a normal family (As normal as they can be-) for like the 40 years Black has spent with them! Maybe at most they all have a bit of a bad habit of swearing like sailors (The mental image of Jevin going “Ah bitchnuggets” in the softest voice as he accidentally drops something.)

I don’t even think horror mode / The eclipse happens in this because he’s literally just a dude! (Unless some outside force comes with a hammer to his family but like really its all just chill I think.)

There’s also alot of other things that get effected by Black being just a chill dude that I haven’t brought up- But I think thats most of the significant changes!

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part nine//t.c.

Warnings: cursing, beginnings of smut

The Golden Globe Awards ceremony was rather uneventful for you. You hadn’t seen any of the other films nominated, the food was good, but nothing spectacular, and it was difficult to get anything to drink that wasn’t alcohol.

You spent some time on your phone. Photos of Kylie kissing Timmy were everywhere on social media. It did hurt your heart to see her cupping his face, pulling him into a kiss. "Don't worry about her." Timothee had said. You did your best to pay it no mind.

You didn't really know anyone at your table. It was a bunch of other assistants and crew members. You weren't much of a social butterfly, so you mostly just kept to yourself. After all, you came for one reason: Timothée, your boss. Was he also your lover now? Well, maybe not officially. Yet.

At the end of the event, everyone just kind of piled out like they were leaving a high school dance. It was awkward and oddly paced walking toward the exit.

You met up with Timmy eventually and his almost sullen looking face lit up when he saw you. He gave you a small wave and smile. His other hand was occupied by Kylie Jenner. He was leading her out by the hand. You couldn’t tell if their fingers were interlocked or not.

Kylie saw you, gave you a really blank sort of stare. You tried to smile politely at her, feeling strange yourself, you mouthed a ‘hi’ to her, since it was quite loud with people talking in all directions. She didn’t respond to you at all, it felt like she was looking straight through you, so coldly.

She wasn’t more than a half a pace behind him as she tried to keep up with his long strides. You could understand her desperation, as Timmy always covered a lot of ground quickly, though right now he seemed to be moving even faster than normal.

You stayed behind a few feet to give him and Kylie space as people were still taking photos and recording them. You didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.

…….

Once outside, you looked on as Timmy walked her to her car that was waiting in the back where there were no paps. There wasn’t an exchange between them. He had dropped her hand once out of view of the cameras. She got into the back seat of the car without even looking back at him.

You waited until her car left and Timmy was walking away. You walked towards him, saw that he had his phone in hand. You were approaching him as he looked up and smiled at you. "Hey, I was about to text you."

"No need to now." you smiled back. “So where are your guy friends? Seems like they always accompany you everywhere."

"Yeah, I told them to just hang back. That I'd just be going home solo. Let's get out of here."

You walked together to find Timmy's car and driver and there were some fans on the street, so naturally, he had to stop.

You stood off to the side, waiting patiently and not wanting to ruin any of the young ladies' time meeting him. There were more little handmade bracelets, and one woman gave him a rose quartz crystal. They were so sweet to him and you loved that he matched their energy right back.

Once back in the car, he leaned on your shoulder almost immediately, letting out a sharp breath of exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" you asked him.

"Yeah." he sat up straight, looking at you, still touching his leg to yours, "I am now."

Taking the initiative for the first time, you leaned in and kiss his lips. You didn’t even care that they had been touched by another. It didn’t matter to you.

Timmy had brought his hand up to your face while you kissed, and when your lips parted, he spoke, “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, I hope it’s nothing bad.” you giggled. His face was barely an inch away from yours as he held your cheek.

“I want to make love to you tonight.” he stated.

You weren’t surprised, but it was still sweet to hear him say it, “Oh, Timothée Chalamet. You always seem to know what a girl wants to hear.” you grinned.

“I only care about my girl.” he declared, pulling you into a deeper kiss, one of hunger and passion. Your bodies became sinfully close in the back seat of the SUV. Your hands roamed over his shoulders as he held your waist.

..........

It was a rush to get inside his house. Once the front door was closed, you were attached to each other. Your lips were unable to leave each other, his tongue wandered eagerly into your mouth. You moved through the kitchen together, with you running your hands through his fluffy hair and him feeling your breasts through your dress.

"Hm, eager are we, Chalamet?" you joked, cheekily.

He smirked as he held you tightly, "Fuck yeah I am." He resumed kissing you that instant.

You moaned in his mouth, loving the feeling of his hands on your body, squeezing your boobs, kneading your hips, then cupping your ass.

Without any warning, his fingers found the zipper at the back of your dress and he dragged it down with haste.

"Oh my gosh, you're trying to get me naked in your kitchen!" you exclaimed.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" he joked, sliding your dress down your body.

You were left in your lingerie, but you did not take the time to feel nervous or insecure about your body or the way he would perceive you. You wanted this. You both did. And you knew that Timmy cared about you a lot. So, he would never judge your body. You knew it wasn't anywhere close to the perfection that Kylie had. But maybe he would like that about you.

Timmy let out a a breath, shaking his head once as he looked down your body, then back up into your eyes. “Jesus Christ. You,” he put his hands on the counter behind you, trapping you between his arms, “are,” he pecked your left cheek, “amazing.” He kissed you on the right cheek.

Your face was warm and your chest heaved slowly in anticipation. When he captured your lips once more, you tugged on his Tom Ford jacket.

He followed suit, quickly whisking the jacket off and tossing it into one of the island chairs.

You threw his blue tie off of him without a care, then unbuttoned his shirt in what must have been record time.

Timmy made out with you as he hurriedly unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the floor. "mm," he backed away from your lips just barely, "do you know how much I've wanted you, right here?"

"Here?" you placed your hand on the counter, teasing, "Really?"

"Yes, y/n, you have to know that I've wanted you ever since the first day I met you. You were so nervous, but you were so fucking cute."

"You thought I was cute?" you egged him on, though the information was new to you.

He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, smashing his lips onto the tender spot there. "Yes, baby." he whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

Your hands clapped onto his back. His beautiful, bare back that you had only seen a few times, but each time you had wanted so badly to grab him, to scratch your nails down that back. Now, you could.

January 30, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala @heatherpi

[flowersintheimpala69]

post cage Sam can’t handle the dark.

In the cage, when lucifer got bored of beating and cutting Sam he’d leave Sam alone for a few millennia. The euphoric respite from pain that Sam would feel was always short lived. Being alone in the vast darkness of the cage for thousands upon thousands of years fucked with Sam more than lucifer flaying or crucifying him ever could. In the darkness Sam couldn’t move. He couldn’t see or hear. He couldn’t even feel his own touch. He couldn’t sleep and was left with only his thoughts 24/7. The anxiety and panic would build in him with no way of getting out. He couldn’t cry or shake or yell and so his anxiety would be stuck in an endless feedback loop.

When his wall breaks he can’t handle being in the dark anymore. Dean shuts off the motel lights to get some sleep and Sam instantly starts letting out these guttural cries that scare the shit out of dean. Sam won’t tell dean what’s wrong, he just keeps crying and shaking. Dean flicks the lights back on to better assess what’s wrong. The second the lights come back on Sam’s yelling stops and his shaking mostly subsides.

Sam never tells Dean why he can’t stand the dark anymore and Dean never asks, but they now have an unspoken rule that lights stay on—even at night. Eventually Sam becomes okay with the lights being off—as long as a lamp stays on or the bathroom lights stay on so they can illuminate the room a bit.

By the time they move to the bunker Sam’s gotten substantially better at handling the dark. He can go outside at night and he can be in a room with the lights off, although it still distresses him slightly. Dean buys him one of those small plug in lights and Sam initially rejects it saying “I’m not a baby Dean I don’t need a nightlight” but when Dean walks by Sam’s room one night on his way back from the bathroom, through the slightly ajar door he can see the faint glow of the night light.

[aperrywilliams]

Satellite Call. Part II: I Wish I Could Do More (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Words count for this part: 4.1k

Series summary: Your world crushes when Spencer is arrested. Between finding a way to get him out and keeping you afloat, there is something else you need to focus on, too. And even when you thought things couldn’t go worse, a tragedy makes you question if you can make it through.

Part II summary: While Spencer is transferred to Milburn, you must be strong and find a way to get him out, even if you're hurt by what he did. Some news could make this even more difficult.

Series warnings: ANGST (with CAPS). 18+ (MDNI). Some heavy topics will be discussed and shown here. Prison arc, but mostly from Reader's perspective and Emily’s. More detailed under the cut.

Spencer lies to his wife. Drug consumption (against their will). Pregnancy symptoms. Spencer is in jail for more than three months. Hospital visits, doctor’s info dumping (not accurate). Alcohol consumption. Arguing. Strong language. A lot of crying. Emotional breakdowns. A car crash happens (as in the CM storyline). Character dies. More hospital things. Miscarriage. More angst. Depressing symptoms. Mourning. Self-doubt. Suicidal ideation, and almost consummated. Emily is everyone’s emotional support.

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You couldn't sleep that night. The mere thought of Spencer in a cold cell, alone, disoriented, and scared, makes you sick. You had been talking to Emily late into the night, trying to figure out legal options. She assured you she had an excellent lawyer who could defend Spencer and that they could visit him the next day to give him the news.

As planned, you and Emily arrive at the police station early in the morning. After a routine check, you are allowed into the cell block. Emily tells you to go first while she waits for Fiona, Spencer's new lawyer.

The moment he sees you, Spencer rushes to hug you. You hug him just as tightly, resting your head on his chest.

"Are you okay?" you ask, muffling your words in Spencer's old cardigan he is wearing. It gives him some kind of normal semblance, considering the circumstances.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Spencer says, kissing the top of your head.

His voice tells you he is everything but okay. You are sure he didn't sleep, the same as you.

When you part of your embrace, Spencer doesn't want to let you go, clasping his hands in yours. Inspecting your face, he knows there is something you need to tell him, and you don't know how.

"What is it?"

You sigh, tightening the grip of his hands.

"The FBI decided they won't support you legally. They refused to provide a lawyer to take your case."

"What?" He lets go of your hands, surprised by the news you are giving him. "But why? I didn't do anything!"

"We know, but you made that trip without your FBI passport and didn't tell anyone. They won't take responsibility for it." As you see Spencer starting to hyperventilate, you rush to explain Emily's plan.

"Hey, Spencer. Listen to me. It doesn't mean you won't have a defense, okay? Emily is here too, and she got a lawyer for you. They will be here in a minute."

"But - but I don't have money to afford a lawyer. I - I spent a huge amount of my savings on my mom's treatment."

You didn't know that. That's another thing Spencer hasn't shared with you in the past months. He notices your expression after what he just said. He can see the betrayal in your eyes, even if you want to mask it for his sake.

"We'll manage." It's the only thing you can say, keeping your voice steady. Spencer sighs and grabs one of your hands.

"I know it's not fair for you. Please, tell me what you are thinking; tell me what you are feeling. Tell me everything that I deserve to hear."

What are you really thinking and feeling right now? It's a mix you can't decipher yet, but this is not the time or place to try to figure it out.

So you act as if he didn't say anything and try to divert the subject.

"Emily and Fiona will be here in any minute. Fiona is your lawyer's name. Emily told me she's good-"

"Baby-" Spencer calls you, but you continue with your rant, letting go of his hand.

"Her credentials are pretty impressive, to be honest. Emily handed her your file already, so-"

Spencer knows you are deflecting, so he cut you off.

"Can you stop for a second, please?"

And you do. Spencer's frustration is very clear in his voice, although as the words leave his lips, he retracts immediately. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to snap."

You keep looking at him. It's not you're annoyed or angry. It's not difficult to understand Spencer's anxiety about all of this and the compel to explain himself before you. But you don't know how to deal with it either, so you think being proactive might help. Help to focus on the important, leaving behind the storm blowing inside you.

Spencer can see you're holding back. He wants you to talk to him, but since you arrived, the conversation has only focused on him, and you don't seem keen to change that.

You are considering switching subjects again, but what can you talk about that isn't the obvious topic? Before you dwell much on it, Spencer spares you the decision.

"So, you say she'll be here soon?"

"Yes."

"Will you stay?"

"No. By protocol, Fiona must talk to you alone. Also, you must tell her everything in detail. Even the things you haven't told me."

Spencer might be in a vulnerable position right now, but he's still a profiler and, beyond that, your husband. He can read your subtexts better than anyone.

"You are still mad."

It's simple and accurate, but you don't want to acknowledge it, much less address it.

"Can we focus on the important here?" You don't deny it, but you prefer not to talk about it.

"And you think how you feel is not important?" Spencer asks, eyes scanning yours.

"It's not important when the one locked here is you, and we have to use all our energy to get you out."

Spencer knows you are right, but he also knows you're hurting because of him.

"Not a million 'I'm sorry's' will change where we are now, and it is very cynical of me to ask you for this, but please, don't leave me in the dark. I want to know what you are thinking and feeling. Although you believe the priority is focusing on my case, that's not the only thing that matters to me."

You take in his words for a moment. You know he's genuine, but the clench in the pit of your stomach makes it difficult to push away your anger. All this situation is unfair, and you don't know how to deal with your emotions.

"You're right. Nothing will change where we are now. That's why I'm trying to focus on the practical things. I can't even process what I'm feeling right now, so don't ask me something you didn't do, and I can't do either."

What you said is not much in words, but it's heavy enough to make Spencer's head hang low.

Spencer knows he's a hypocrite asking you for something he didn't do: talk to you when it was needed.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles, stepping closer to you. He wants to hold you, but you are shaken enough, plus you are starting to feel nauseous, so you step back.

"Baby," he repeats, and before you can reply, Emily and Fiona enter the room.

Emily quickly notices things are tense between you two.

"We can give you some more minutes," she offers. But you brisky refuse.

"It's okay. You guys need it more than me," you say, now looking at Fiona. "Nice to meet you, by the way. I'll leave you at it."

Spencer calls your name, and you turn to him with apologetic eyes. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise. We can talk about that later, okay?"

And before anyone in the room could say anything else, you leave.

You feel suffocated, and your feet don't move fast enough to get out of there. Your breathing quickens, and you start to feel like the walls are closing in around you. Luckily for you, the exit is only a few more meters away. Once you're out of the building, you crouch down and start to inhale and exhale hard. Over and over again. Your breathing is getting controlled, but you get a horrible nausea that makes you empty your stomach in a corner of the sidewalk.

You considered staying and waiting for Emily, but you decided to go home instead. You messaged her to let her know when she had news.

That same afternoon, Emily calls you and gives you details about the legal strategy Fiona will pursue while the team is instructed to look for evidence to exonerate Spencer. The arraignment will be the next day, and Fiona will try to get Spencer out on bail. That gives you some hope, although, in terms of the investigation, you're all still in the dark.

It doesn't help that the judge denies Spencer’s bail the next day. Neither the evidence of his impeccable previous conduct nor the arguments about his contributions to the FBI convince her to give Spencer bail, so she orders his incarceration in the Milburn correctional facility until his trial, which will take place in three more months. You can’t believe it. No one does. It breaks your heart to see Spencer’s face when he looks at you before being cuffed and whisked away from the courtroom. He’s scared, and you can’t do anything about it. Spencer tries to mask it, mouthing an ‘I love you’ to you. You do the same, trying to keep your tears at bay.

Never in a million years would you have imagined something like this. Still in shock, you can barely hear the encouraging words of Fiona and Emily, who begin to formulate a new plan for Spencer. Helplessness overwhelms you, and not wanting to listen anymore, you excuse yourself and walk toward the exit of the courtroom. You are not sure why, but there is no reason to remain stunned in the same place, either.

This time, it’s  Rossi who finds you sulking as you sit on the stairs of the building entrance.

“The kid is strong, you know that, right?”

You look at him when he sits by your side.

“He is. I know,” you sniffle. “But he needs more than strength right now. He needs us to prove his innocence, and here I am. Crying and doing nothing to help him.”

“And we’ll prove his innocence. But one step at a time. Today, we lose, and it’s okay to dwell and cry, to get up tomorrow and keep fighting.”

Rossi is probably right. After all, he is the one with the most experience in life. But it is hard for you to see how to continue fighting when you feel like you have been losing battles for days.

You take David’s advice—one day at a time. Exhausted, when you get home, you plop on your couch and try to digest everything. You cry and curse, but at the end of the day, you just hope the next day could be better.

When you arrive at the BAU in the morning, Emily calls the entire team into the conference room. On the round table, you see a pile of papers while Penelope is already sitting, working on a laptop.

“Okay, we need to assume Scratch is behind Nadie Ramos's murder. We need to figure out how he knew her,” Prentiss starts.

“She wasn’t his target. It's circumstantial due to her connection to Spence,” JJ states. Tara nods.

“True. But it can’t be a coincidence we’re talking about someone connected to alternative medicine and plants. The same Scratch uses them to make his drugs.”

All give some ideas on how Scratch could be related to Spencer’s case, but even when they have good hypotheses, there is something that doesn't fit you.

“What are your thoughts?” Stephen asks you when he notices you’re the only one who hasn’t said anything yet.

“Why Spencer?” Your colleagues' attention is on you now. “I mean, it could have been any of us. If Scratch already targeted us, why Spencer, and why now?”

“He had messed with Hotch and Tara by now. I guess he will try to get us one by one,” Luke answers.

“Yeah, but isn’t it inconvenient for him to expose himself like this? I mean, he didn't do this alone,” you argue.

“I don’t think that bothers him. He likes the attention and will do anything to get it. This time, it is the kid who is in the middle,” Rossi concludes.

You’re not so sure, but you don’t have any evidence to refute your teammates. You also feel that maybe you’re being a bit paranoid saying this is especially against Spencer, so you don’t keep pushing and leave the team to bounce their theories.

Two full days pass, and you don’t have anything to prove Spencer’s innocence. The team keeps the same approach settled the days prior, and you’re getting impatient. That, and the lack of sleep, gets you irritated. It's something all can see, but they don’t have the heart to call you out.

Emily has to do something after you yelled at Penelope in front of everyone after she came with nothing about Scratch's supposed partner, and two seconds later, you started to cry disconsolately, asking her for forgiveness.

“You need to go home. I won’t tell you the reasons because you already know them. We need you with fresh eyes. Spencer needs you with fresh eyes,” your boss reminds you. Of course, you want to argue with her, but she is right. With no words, you nod and grab your stuff from your desk.

Emily is right; you need to find a way to keep your shit together. It's hard, you tell yourself, but you have to try. The next morning, you’ll visit Spencer at Milburn. It’s the first time they will allow him to see someone that is not his lawyer.

Sleep doesn't come so quickly that night, but at some point, exhaustion wins the battle, and you fall asleep.

You don’t remember if you were dreaming or not, but still, in a haze, you feel your stomach churn and then some horrible nausea. That’s what fully wakes you up. Jumping from the bed, you run to the bathroom to empty your guts.

Jeez, not again. You have been cautious not to eat something that could make you sick. But to be honest, you haven’t been eating much the past few days due to stress. Maybe your nausea is also due to that.

When the uncomfortable feeling dissipates, you peak at your clock and realize it's time to get up. After brushing your teeth, you jump into the shower.

You've been to different prisons around the country many times. Sometimes, with Spencer himself, interviewing inmates. Some of them being the worst scum the world has to offer. And now, in front of Milburn correctional, the irony isn’t lost on you.

The visiting room is full of people waiting for the time when the prisoners can enter and sit in front of their visitors. After the sound of an old buzzer, a gate opens at the back of the room, and one by one, the prisoners begin to enter. They are all dressed in that orange jumper that already bothered you before but that you will now learn to hate even more.

You spot Spencer, and your stomach tightens. His gaze meets yours, and he gives you a shadow of a smile.

“Hey,” you mumble as he sits in the chair in front. Separated by an acrylic glass, you can’t touch each other. That’s the rule, and you already hate it.

“Hi,” Spencer greets back, biting his lower lip. For him, it's so good to see you, but not like this. Your last encounter didn't end well either, so Spencer is worried about how to talk to you.

“How are you holding on?” You are direct; it is not useful to ask how he is doing in a place like this. Spencer shrugs.

“They let me read. It's not that bad.”

“Have you been sleeping?” You have a list of checkup questions to assess Spencer's current state.

“Not that much. But it's okay, you know I usually don’t sleep that much.”

Before your next question leaves your lips, Spencer speaks.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you are left speechless. It’s the cue Spencer needs to keep talking. “And I hate every minute I can’t be with you. I fucked up, and I know you want to focus on my defense instead of talking about how you feel about this.”

“Spencer-”

“It’s okay,” he rushes to say. “I’m going to respect that. But I want you to know I do care, and you don’t have to spare me anything for my sake.”

Your eyes fill with tears, and some start to run down your cheeks. You can’t help it. The knot in your throat begging to be untied.

“I - it’s like-” you try to collect your thoughts as you wipe your tears. Spencer only wants to jump the glass to wipe them himself.

“It hurts, Spencer. It hurts that I can’t do more to help you. Yeah. I’m mad at you for not trusting me. I’m mad at myself for not being enough for you to trust me. I love so fucking much, and it scares me because I’m not thinking clearly, and I should be working to catch the son of the bitch who puts you here.”

Your rant finishes with you out of breath and hiccuping. “I’m sorry, I just spilled-” You want to apologize, but Spencer calls your name to catch your attention.

“Baby, it's okay. It's okay to let that out. You need to. And I’m here to listen to you. I would never judge you for telling me what you are feeling. I love you so so much. I know you are doing your best, and I wish I could be more helpful, too. After all, I‘m the one who left his guard down.”

“What can I do, Spencer? How can I help you? I feel so lost right now,” you admit, and Spencer understands perfectly your frustration.

“The only thing I dare to ask you is to keep loving me. Please. To know you are here and that you love me gives me a reason to go on. To fight.”

“There isn’t a universe where I don’t love you. I’m your wife through thick and thin,” you tell him, voice full of emotion.

It is raw and utterly true. Spencer’s glassy eyes are evidence of how your words hit him in the best way possible.

“I love you,” he mutters, resting his palm on the glass. You mimic his gesture to match your palm with his.

“I love you, too.”

The visit ends not much later, but you can discuss the lack of progress in the investigation and how important it is that Spencer remember more details of his days in Mexico. This will give you a clue about who Scratch’s partner can be.

You go home with a bittersweet taste. Seeing Spencer and talking to him is the sweet one, but the lack of good news is the bitter one.

In the afternoon, you call Emily to tell her about your visit to Milburn and ask for updates. While you do so, your stomach reminds you how little you have been eating in the past few days. Between the bug you think you had and the stress, your last meals haven’t quite achieved the minimum nutrient requirements. So, after an inner struggle, you go to the kitchen and cook something better than tea and crackers.

You boost some energy into your system and use that to do some of the house chores. The place is kind of a mess.

That's why at night when you let your head hit the pillow, you’re fast asleep in a matter of minutes. And unlike the days prior, you dream.

-

You and Spencer are sitting side by side on the jet, discussing the last case you closed—coincidentally, your first case as a BAU official member. ‘How is it that she didn't notice any signs of being pregnant? I mean, your body changes; you should notice it at some point,’ you argue, talking about the unsub wife, who didn't know she was expecting until the day she gave birth. ‘It’s not that uncommon. The known symptoms of pregnancy can include missed periods, tender and swollen breasts, nausea or vomiting, increased urination, fatigue, and food aversions or cravings. However, each woman's experience with pregnancy can vary significantly, and not everyone will experience all of these signs. Plus, some of those symptoms can be related to other health affections, such as stress, digestive issues, or even blood imbalance like anemia.’ ‘Why do you know a lot of things about those things? The last time I checked, none of your PhDs were related to an MD.’ ‘I like to know about a lot of things. And I read a lot.” ‘I can tell.’

-

You wake up startled from your dream. Why did your brain trigger that specific memory right now in your dream? Sitting on your bed, still panting from the sudden wake-up, you go to recheck.

It does not take you much time to connect the dots. Fatigue, morning sickness, mood swings, food aversion. When was the last time you got your period?

Fuck. Fuck. And fuck.

You jump from the bed, pacing in your room. No. It can’t be.

But after a quick trip to the pharmacy at five in the morning and three pregnancy tests later, you get your answer: the three came positive. You are pregnant.

What will this mean in the vast aspects of your life? In this timing and these circumstances?

You don't have answers. You don’t have anything at hand to help you think clearly, so you decide to go to the person who maybe can see this from a better perspective: Emily.

When Emily opens the door, she looks already concerned that you’re knocking on her door at 6 AM, and her worry worsens when she sees you crying.

“Hey, what is it? Why are you crying? What happened?” As every question leaves Emily’s mouth, she rushes you inside her apartment and makes you sit on the couch.

You feel like you're having a hard time breathing, but you close your eyes and do your best not to collapse on your friend’s floor. Emily moves quickly and goes to the kitchen to grab a glass of water with some sugar to calm the nerves. After you take some sips, Emily holds the glass and leaves it on the coffee table. Now, with her full attention on you, you know she needs answers.

“Emily, I’m pregnant.”

Without any prompting, the words leave your lips. And it still feels so foreign to you. Even if the three pregnancy tests on your bathroom counter can confirm it’s something real. It’s your reality right now.

Emily is silent, not because she doesn't know what to say, but most of all because she wants to gauge your reaction and know your thoughts about it. Your face is unreadable, though.

“Are you sure? Did you check with a doctor?”

She thinks it’s a cautious question, considering everything that has been going on, and it could be a false positive.

“Not with a doctor. But three different tests say I’m pregnant. Em, what I’m going to do?”

“Okay. Let’s see,” your friend prompts. “First of all, we need to get you checked. The past months have been rough, and we need to know how your health is. Then you can think about what to do.”

You still can’t wrap your head around the idea of being pregnant. But when the doctor confirms you are, it becomes real. Fortunately, Emily is by your side when this happens because you’re sure you have fainted without anyone to ground you there.

“How are you feeling?”

Emily returns with you to your apartment after the doctor’s appointment. She’s handing you a mug of tea while you’re tuck-sitting on the couch, hugging your knees.

“I don’t know. I mean- I don’t know,” you confess as Emily joins you on the couch.

“It's okay if you don’t know yet. You need time to process it.”

“Do I have time to do that? Knowing Spencer is in jail and - and this,” you look at your still non-existent baby bump. “And this is happening? What am I going to do?”

“It’s not ideal, but you need to think this through. I can’t tell you what to do because it’s your choice.”

Your choice. And the less you want to do is to decide big things these days.

“At least tell me what you think. An insight can help here.”

Emily contemplates her answer for a moment.

“Okay. Have you had this conversation with Spencer before? The kids thing?”

“Yeah. We agreed that, at some point, we want to. I guess that's why we haven’t done much to prevent it.”

That's the thing. It's not that you both were actively trying, but the fact that it is happening now? It's not the best timing.

“Well, if that's the case, just know I’m here to support you. Whatever you decide to do. I’m not going to judge you. No one will do. Not even Spencer, okay?”

You know Emily is telling the truth, and you appreciate her support, although you still don’t know what your choice will be on this. The only thing you‘re certain right now is how complicated everything has turned out.

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Series Taglist: @strawb3heart @lunaryoongie @bwlol7

[sah-crescentmoon]

I will have to thank you for that idea. I actually failed to mention something about Dalnim and I don't know why. Especially since it has been something I planned and added since the beginning but neer spoke about it. Not sure how I will add it in again. Oh, and I have finished making the omakes for All Eyes on You. Two parts, one for the adults and the second for the classmates. I should from now on add those to be sure no confusions occurs again haha especially because Dalnim is an unreliable narrator (I forgot that word lmao).

As you said, it would be nice to see the perspectives of others. I would love to see what Nayeon is thinking. Also, bro I forgot about Tokgasi. He is forgetable to me and I feel bad. Writing in other perspective does give a nice break on whatever dark stuff we be cooking up y'know? (I am mostly joking here).

About that, I have never thought of it? I did originally have him live with his sisteer, but it never made sense for me. I have it now that he lived somewhere that the school keeps an eye on. So, I guess a dorm. The last two years puts more emphasis on preparing them for military life, so instead of a self-study period, it is more about learning what kind of careers there are and how things will work. Sometimes, they will cancel history class in order to talk more about that if needed. In the omake, I reveal that Dalnim lives in the dorms and shares a room with a classmate (I may or may not be excited to share that!). While this isn't an important part of my story, it would be nice to have some background info y'know? I tried to make a schedule, but I forgot my high school schedule and it's all different now so I can't use that as reference. Did you know instead of 7 classes, they only have 4 now? I wished that was me, but I did like my classes before (except Adv World Literature. That teacher will haunt my dreams. Ok, I am being dramatic but she was the worst).

As for what they are eating... kimchi. That's it. I'm just kidding lol. Honest answer is that I never thought of that. My whole story doesn't revolve too much in the past. The past is just to explain the present. I would have done present first, but I felt it might be a bit too confusing since people would have too many questions and I am shy.

Oh! I know you mentioned making layouts. But that is more details than I thought. It's nice that you are doing that. Shows you are putting a lot of work into your story. I am excited to see where it goes. I would say do things seperately. If you are doing it digitally, you don't want to accidentally merge the layers and somehow the app won't let you undo it. It happens sometimes. It's safer to do it seperately in my opinion.

I am not too sure about layouts of villas (especially since I don't know what that is). But, it's fine to take some liberties if the changes are small or important. Do things as you wish to do as long as it makes sense to you. As someone who reads and looks at your work, I don't go out to fact check you or anything lol. As I always say: don't stress yourself with small details. If the details won't be noticed then don't worry about it. Maybe I am reading that paragraph wrong since reading comprehenstion does not exist for me :D

Thank you. It's been a bit hard to let go of that fact my family could not formally attend the funeral, but I know he will understand regardless. And sorry to hear that you also didn't get a chance to know your own grandfather.

I mean, true. Why break her heart? It's like my mom and sister hiding things from me to make sure I don't get hurt. I can see her grandfather and others being the same. They cares about her too much to hurt her even if it was in a way to protect her. Because it won't take away the fact that someone she is friends with is an enemy.

She is a spy without being a spy or knowing she is one. Though, I wonder if she would feel used if she ever realized that. I can't imagine how it would feel to be in that situation. But, I don't think anyone would allow her to get close to figuring that out.

I am sure you know this already, but if I remember correctly: Nayeon, the idol, has "bunny teeth" so she is referred to as a bunny. Though, she shaved her teeth so they wouldn't resemble the teeth of a bunny. I think she got rid of them. So, there is a chance that is where the name meaning comes from. Because looking at at leat 6 hanjas, means either beautiful or something else. And idols having bunny related traits (personality or physical traits) is quite popular within Kpop communities. I still think the name fits. Sure, it can be double beauty. But, hey, Nayeon is a beauty due to her pure soul and because of her friendlieness. It's like finding a nice flower growing in a harsh environment. So, even if Nayeon did not mean "Cute Bunny", I think the name is cute regardless.

Something I did while I was waiting for class.

I don’t know if she would be a new character of mine. But if she was, she would be working as an archivist or doing something based around culture. Idk. She isn’t a character I would place in OFP since she wouldn’t be a solider. She would have been exempted.

The quality came out a bit wonky

[theradicalace]

my friends are starting to tell me that my voice sounds deeper hehee :3

[envolvenuances]

and I think child modelling should be illegal I'm not even joking

[acaesic]

man. i wanna get back into multifandom stuff but at the same time i cannot feel anything for things that arent idkhow anymore :,)

[arolesbianism]

I've been thinking abt new game+ friend quests and it's just me going ah yes and they have all these issues and talk abt these things and oh oops this is all accidental foreshadowing