#i miss when i watch s1 for the first time

[lemongogo]

viktor prev 🤖

[demadogs]

stranger things season one 2016 was so fucking incredible. it exists as an entirely different entity to me than the rest of the show. you literally just had to be there. to this day nothing has ever come close to the amount of universal love for a fictional story that stranger things first received. ive been chasing this high for eight years.

[namelessprince]

discovering new mental illnesses by looping evelyn evelyn and thinking about 10 month timeskip ghostknife

[artekai]

I love the season 1 finale because if you saw it out of context you'd probably think the show was playing it straight by building up the romantic atmosphere and getting you into Rebecca's head and all that but really it is not a triumph but a defeat for Rebecca, she's finally getting everything she wanted, everything she worked for, everything she upended her life for, and she might not know or want to know it at the moment, but then there's me in the audience, even on my first watch, chewing on furniture because it's clear that this can only spell disaster for her, and, despite the pretty music and the gorgeous shots, Rebecca getting her dream man is NOT a happy ending for anyone, underneath the sweetness there is a layer of bitterness that you can't shake off, even though we all know this was where the narrative was headed all along, and this is only the beginning

[iamnot-theboynextdoor]

lmao i saw my psychiatrist yesterday and the very first words he said to me were "have you seen it?"

[dexxtrosee]

Safekeeping

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader

Summary: A baby got to the ER thirty minutes ago and hasn't stopped crying since. It's starting to get on everyone's nerves. He is, unfortunately, the one in charge, so it's his problem to deal with.

A/N: Set a few months after the last episode of The Pitt's S1. Mind you, this was supposed to be me testing the waters with the fandom and instead I got dunked, I just can't get this man out of my head. Oh well. Part one, I guess?

There´s a baby crying two rooms away from the one he’s at. 

The baby hasn’t stopped crying in thirty minutes, a world of difference from the case Robby is currently using as a teaching lesson for Santos and Whitaker. He doesn’t need to be a genius in emotional expression to notice she’s bored to death, while Whitaker seems relieved to be away from an immediate life threatening situation for once. He won’t admit it, not even to Dana, but he is using it as both a punishment for her and a break for him. He barely got between her and an abusive mother just a few hours ago before they drew blood. He managed to save Santos from being escorted out in cuffs along with the mother by sheer force of willpower and some favors owed by the cops.

And he won’t say it to her either, but if he were thirty years younger and a tad more stupid, that would have been him. She doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Are you a smoker, miss Rossi?”

The lady, a seventy year old woman who insists on them calling her miss, because she’s “divorced, dammit”, shakes her head and turns to look at her granddaughter. Robby can practically hear her thoughts (Can you believe this boy?) and has to bite back a chuckle. 

“Do you, by any chance, often cook on firewood?”

Miss Rossi shakes her head again, this time with an added eye roll. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

Whitaker is starting to play with his hands, glancing nervously at the granddaughter and at Santos. The boredom seems to have eased a bit, now replaced by amusement from seeing the poor boy suffer. Robby doesn’t interfere. 

“Have you done strenuous activity recently?”

At this, the teenage girl sitting by her side perks up, glancing at her grandmother with pursed lips. Robby smiles when Whitaker catches it and latches onto it like a starved animal. 

“Maybe cleaning around the house? Too long walks? Heavy lifting?”

Miss Rossi finally seems to think about it. Santos starts fidgeting where she’s standing, checking her watch. He suppresses a sigh and writes a mental note about mentioning it to her. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

“Well, I went with the kids to the park this morning. Had to chase them around when they grabbed the youngest and put her inside the basket of one of the bikes! Can you believe it? Those fuckers.”

They all let out some chuckles and sighs of relief. 

“Are you from Allegheny, miss Rossi?”

She nods, smiling for the first time since they both got here. “Born and raised, boy.”

Robby nods at him, giving him a thumbs up. Santos tries to hide her own smile. 

“Alright, seems you can handle this one.” Robby glares briefly at Santos, and she nods with so much annoyance he shakes his head. “I’ll go check on other cases, call me if anything happens.”

He doesn’t wait to see the answers, just steps out and walks straight to the room with the crying baby. 

Before he enters, he notices Dana standing inside and talking softly to, he assumes, the mother. She has her back to him, shoulders shaking and head hung low. Samira and McKay are bent over a cradle. A hole inside his stomach appears when he notices how anxious they both seem to be. 

“Good morning, I’m doctor Robinavitch. What seems to be the problem here?”

Dana turns, frowning and looking at him like he’s the worst thing to happen to her today. He reels back slightly, tries to peek behind her back. She shakes her head, motions him to fuck off. 

McKay doesn’t move. Samira stands up straight like he just pulled her back string, nervous. “All good, sir. We can handle this one, no worries.”

Robby frowns, bites back the need to tell them all off. “Well, that poor thing hasn’t stopped crying in more than half an hour. Are you sure?”

McKay waves at him from her bent position, shaking her head furiously without actually turning to look at him. 

Without saying anything, he turns to Dana again. She sighs, lets go of the mother’s hands and pushes him out of the room with no explanation. Before she closes back the curtain, he tries and fails to catch a glance at the mother.

“What the fuck is going on?”

He loves Dana, he truly does. Still, sometimes he wishes he could work with someone less hardheaded. He has enough of it in himself.

“She doesn’t want any men near her baby.”

Robby tilts his head, frowns deeper. “Should I call the cops?”

Something inside him burns and itches when Dana shakes her head. “They’re already aware of anything worth reporting.”

Robby nods, clenches his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when the baby lets out a louder cry. “What the hell is wrong then? They haven’t figured it out yet? Should I bring Collins here?”

She’s busy dealing with a broken leg from a teenage boy that got too excited with his skateboard, but the cries are starting to get on everyone’s nerves, he can see it. 

“Maybe you should, yeah.”

“Fuck.”

He turns away, walks to Langdon and grabs him away from the nurse bay. He doesn’t protest, hasn’t since he came back last month. It still weirds Robby out. 

“I need you to finish Collins’ case, she has to help out with a different one.”

“I can do it,” The need for approval drips from his words. It still twists Robby’s chest. He shakes his head, doesn’t explain, pushes him inside and motions Collins out with just a smile to the parents.

“Need you to help in Room Two, I’m sorry.”

She gets it immediately, smiles softly and nods. She’s trying again, Robby knows. Still, he’s tried his best to keep her away from any babies. 

When they go back, Dana steps out and grabs Robby. He lets her lead him to the corner between rooms, crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere near the baby unless it’s completely necessary, I know. What now?”

“She wants to talk to you.”

The mother, he guesses. He nods, interlaces his fingers and then unthreads them when he notices how tense he feels from it. 

“Just… be gentle, Robby. She looks six seconds away from throwing up out of stress.”

There are so many things he could say to that. Instead, he just nods. Dana goes inside, doesn’t come out again.

When the mom steps out, the first thing that crosses his mind is “wow, holy shit”.

Then he starts berating himself because, holy fuck, what the hell was that?

You take a few steps closer to him, playing with your fingers, and cleaning a few stray tears away from your face. His hands twitch by his sides.

“Hi.”

Dear God, take him now. Warmth spreads all over his chest when your voice reaches his ears. 

“Hello,” he starts. He has to clear his throat before continuing. “Dana mentioned you wanted to talk to me, I’m doctor Robinavitch. Or Doctor Robby, if you prefer.”

You nod, trying and failing to smile at him. “Nice to meet you. Are you… like, the boss around here?”

He nods, unsure of how you may react. He doesn’t notice any disgust or annoyance, but there’s no positive reaction either. He relaxes his shoulders and makes sure to leave his hands visible. 

“Indeed I am. What can I do for you?”

He has to hold his breath when you raise your head to look at him straight to his eyes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Can you make sure no male nurses or doctors come near her?”

Irrationally, he wants to sit you down and make you spit out any and all information about your baby. Why you seem so scared one second and ready for combat the next, why your eyes are so pretty, why you don’t let him near the babygirl.

Instead, he just nods, asks softly “Is there anything or anyone we should be worried about?” 

You shake your head, give him a satisfied smile that seems to pull the ground from under him. “No, not anymore.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He feels lightheaded, unsure of where he stands. You tilt your head slightly, then jump when Collins comes out. He realizes now that the crying stopped. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can we have a word?”

Your face falls. It makes him irrationally mad, wants to twist the world around until you’re smiling again. He doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong? Is it serious?”

Collins puts her hand on your hand in an effort to comfort you, shaking her head. He glares at her hand like it personally offended him. “Nothing serious, it seems like she just had an allergic reaction to formula. Could you tell me which one she's taking?”

It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air as soon as there’s something related to the baby anywhere near you. You turn around, back to him while you pull up a picture in your phone and show it to Heather. She nods and smiles, letting you know it’s nothing too bad. He notices your entire body relaxing, and the tips of his ears turn red. 

“So what should I do at home now?”

The anxiety you exude makes him tense, almost angry. He’s bothered by not being able to get an actual look at the situation, relegated to talking to you only and away from what seems to be the center of your universe. He takes a deep breath to try and push out the uncomfortable feeling of uselessness.

“We would like to keep her here, at least for today just to keep an eye on how she reacts with different formulas, and maybe give her some fluids in case she’s dehydrated.” Heather’s voice is tender, gentle in a way he’s not sure he could manage now, not after so many years of hoping it would help and seeing it turn people into aggressive maniacs. 

But you just nod, pocketing your phone before turning back to look at him again and knocking the air out of his lungs. 

He's sure he's earned his year in Hell when faint excitement blooms as he realizes you'll be around for a few hours. He doesn't understand what's happening, why he's acting like a teenage boy with a crush or a fresh student handling his first case with an attractive person. Fuck. Fuck.

“Can you make sure the people from other shifts respect what I ask?”

He’s already mentally preparing his speech for Jack. “Of course. And I’ll see if we can keep you here along with your baby, just to be safe.” 

You beam at him, and once again, he feels like the Earth tilts under him. “Thank you, doctor Robby.”

He notices Dana staring at him from inside the room, grinning.

Oh, he’s absolutely fucked.

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

AO3

[fawnnlvr]

sixth shot | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid × fem!bau!reader

masterlist

summary: after each alcoholic shot, you go through drunk phases that the bau have documented, but out of all the times you all have gone out drinking, they never know what happens if you take a sixth shot.

word count: 2.3k

inspiration: that one scene in brooklyn 99 where the others try to see what happens to my queen amy santiago.

content warning: alcohol use. cringe. first time writing a spencer reid fic. maybe a part 2 because the ending has a lot of loose ends.

author's note: i just started watching criminal minds maybe last week. i just finished s1 and i have been nonstop writing fic ideas and this one stuck with me so enjoy my lovebugs. i steered off track as i wrote this so it's a bit of a mess but :3 also, throughout this entire fic, i think you'll be able to tell that i have never really gotten drunk in my life. only half a soju bottle and a bit of my dignity ꪆৎ

Working as an agent at the BAU means that the people you work with are the people you spend most of your life with. Solving cases and locking away criminals is what you bond over and this cones with being with each other through the highs and lows. These nights were one of the highs. After solving a long case, Rossi had made plans for everybody to head back to his place to celebrate over drinks.

You expected the night to be filled with fun and love, but this was the BAU, nothing could ever be great without an underlying evil that preyed on one's downfall. This underlying evil just so happened to be some of your closest friends and coworkers. Well, all of them. As you prepared and got ready for a night of what you think to be fun, you didn't expect people you considered family to be plotting against you.

"What do you guys think will happen?" Penelope asked her phone, an eager smile detected through her tone. She was currently on a five way call with Spencer, Morgan, JJ, and Emily.

"I think after her fifth shot, little miss princess will start doing backflips." Morgan put in his bet.

"I think it'll be too much for her and she'll throw up on Rossi's carpet." JJ guessed

"What are we even talking about?" Emily asked, confused as to what they were talking about and that's when she heard Penelope gasp.

"Right! Prentiss doesn't know about her drinking phases. Spencer, go explain it!" Penelope eagerly ordered.

"I-I don't know. This feels kind of wro-"

"Do it!" Penelope interrupted.

"Fine. When [Name] starts drinking, she has these phases after every shot. After her first shot, she can't seem to stop laughing and will simply laugh at anything around her for no apparent reason. On her second shot, she is wandering the place. She can't stay still. On her third shot, she's dancing-"

"We once found her dancing with this elderly woman who was busting it down on the dance floor." Morgan laughed. "She even pulled Spencer out on the dance floor when we went to the club."

Spencer blushed at the reminder before continuing, "On her fourth shot, she's crying. She gets really emotional and it doesn't seem like anybody can stop her from crying unless you give her another shot and by her fifth shot, she's back to dancing."

"Which leads us back to our hypothesis." JJ explained, "What happens to our dear little agent once she has her sixth shot."

"And this is the perfect time to test it out." Penelope explained.

The BAU house party at Rossi's was nice in your opinion. He made his delicious Italian dishes and brought out the alcohol. Morgan and Penelope were sweet enough to bring their own alcohol too and offered you a lot. If only you could've seen the evil smirks of those who handed you each shot.

Spencer watched from afar as you were being handed shots and happily accepting them. He planned on staying to the sides and watching over you, making sure you didn't get hurt, but that soon changed when Morgan offered him a shot in the shape or a chemical tube and he couldn't resist the creative packaging.

You were now on your third shot. Spencer knew this due to your little robot dance by the beat-box with JJ who matched your energy. It was a funny sight to see; however, that smile quickly dropped when you made eye contact with him and walked towards him with a mischievous smile. You stopped about two meters away from him and imitated the moves of a fisher casting his line. He rolled his eyes at your attempt to make him do the stupid dance move. The goofy smile on your face as you starting to roll the fishing line towards him, and your encouraging nod made it difficult to resist you.

He wanted to say he didn't succumb to your odd ways but he did as he jumped your way. Yes, he knows he looked stupid but all he could focus on was your proud smile as soon as he reached you.

He had wished that moment lasted a little longer but Morgan came around with another round of shots and happily gave it to you. Spencer said that he wasn't interested and tried to get you to do the same but you didn't, instead it backfired on him.

"Oooo, more for me then. Double!" You grabbed both shots.

"I don't think that's a good i-" You already downed them before Spencer could finish those words and you felt a bit dizzy from the disgusting taste it left in your mouth. This would technically be considered your fifth shot but you've never taken a double before and Spencer supposed it would have the same effect as if taken separately, but your reaction proved otherwise.

You should be back on the dancefloor once the alcohol set it, but Spencer brought you to on of Rossi's kitchen island stools to sit down. He spotted Derek, Penelope, JJ and Emily both staring at them with hawk eyes, knowing they are one shot away from finding out what happens on her sixth shot. Spencer shook his head at their antics and looked back at you to find... that you were nowhere to be seen.

There you stood with Rossi, trying to imitated a traditional dance he was teaching. Italian music played in the background as Rossi showed you how he dances. You were smiley and asked if you did it right and he nodded and encouraged the others to join. Oh wow, you were a stealthy little handful. Spencer sighed in relief as he saw you felt a little better.

Spencer Reid had many degrees and phds but none of them could really tell him the phenomenon behind your drunk phases. It worried him what would happen next. Sure your first five stages were nothing terrible, it was all in good fun except for your emotional crying stage. However, what if you have your sixth shot and it pushes you over the limit and you end up throwing up or passing out. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out, especially since you never had any more shots after your fifth since you were so tired of dancing and talking that you declined any more.

All the other times you and him have gone out drinking, you normally ended up in a secluded area in the bar and drank some water or ordered some bar food and waited to sober up a little bit. Spencer never tried offering you another drink but Derek has and youd always decline. Sure, he too was curious, but if you had a reason to abstain then you had a reason and he didn't want to push it.

You had always known what would happen after your fifth shot. It was not cute. Well, to you it wasn't, but to the group of friends you hung out with as soon as you turned 21, it was. Drinking more than five shots was not in your best interest, especially being at a party with your colleagues and boss. It didn't matter how drunk they were, you didn't want to risk it because you knew how you'd get.

Despite being five shots in, you still had some sense of sobriety and knew how to decline drinks. But that double took its tow on you, and who could decline another shot being offered by the cute little Penelope. As you sat on the couch, exhausted from dancing with Rossi, you simply watched the moving pictures on the television with a slightly entertained smile. Hotch was on the singular person holding couch while you took the bigger one. He eyed you weirdly as you chuckled at the screen static.

That was when Penelope sat down with a shot glass you couldn't resist. She told you she bought edible glitter and ordered a special shot glass with a Persian cat printed on it. You gasped at the sight as Penelope gave you such a nice gift.

"You're a sweetheart Penelope. Thank you!" You genuinely said, warmed at her kindness. She told you it was no problem at all and told you she'll be over with Derek if she needed anything. You nodded and admired the pretty shot glass before taking it and setting it down with a content smile.

"Mission accomolished." Penelope smiled as she high-fived Derek and JJ while Emily stood beside them, watching. Spencer shook his head from beside Penelope.

"What's wrong pretty boy?" Morgan asked.

"I'm going to give her some water. She might throw up or something."

"Relax, she's only on her sixth shot. Alcohol posoining from vodka takes like what, 13-16." Morgan stated.

"That only applies to males over 160 pounds which she is neither. With her height and estimated weight, she's about two shots from trouble and we don't know how she'll react." Spencer stated and grabbed a closed water bottle before walking it over to you.

JJ leaned closer to the three, "Do you think Spencer can see how much he cares for her?"

"Pretty boy has had his eyes set on her since the moment she walked in." Morgan chuckled. "It's only about time."

Derek stared at Penelope who had an evil smirk.

"What's going on?" Emily asked, very confused. It seems like she missed something.

"You'll see." JJ smiled and gestured back over to the couch.

Penelope was like a bubble. She floated around person to person and everybody loved how innocent and non-deceiving she seemed, but she likes to have her fun too. People often confided in her and that's how she learns many of the agents' secret. Secrets they don't think is anything worthwhile, but to Penelope, she just hit the jackpot. You see, Penelope has always known what happens when you little miss princess drinks her sixth shot. She always has ever since she walked you home one day from a night of drinking and you confessed that you didn't want to drink anymore because of one thing...

You get embarrassingly clingy.

"Hey. I got you some water." Spencer sat down right beside you and opened the water bottle, handing it to you.

You took your eyes off the screen and melted into a smile as you saw him in arm's distance. "Doctor Spencer!" You opened your arms and gently wrapped them around his neck, lifting just slightly from the couch to match the height.

"W-What?" He stuttered as he made sure the water didn't spill on you. His arms were flared out, not wanting to touch you while you were in an intoxicated state. He could smell the perfume you sprayed on your hair and neck hours ago and the fragrant filled his brain. You pulled away with the same dopey smile and held eye contact with him.

Your body was fully turned towards him; your leg closest to him was bent and placed on the couch so you could fully face him. Your hand rested on his knee, "I feel like you've been gone forever."

You repositioned yourself and scooted closer to Spencer who was now stuck between you and the couch arm. He had already closed the water bottle at this point and dropped it on the carpeted floor. You ignored the small thud and wrapped your arms around his and rested your head on his arm. He felt you melt into his arm and simply relax in his presence.

He was frozen. He couldn't move. It was as if he stared into Medusa's eyes and became a stone statue. He couldn't even move his eyes to see the reactions of the ones that organized it.

"This feels nice." You dreamily sighed and Spencer could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He kept his hands to his sides, avoiding touching you.

"I-I should go." He managed to utter out, but he couldnt escape your grip.

"Why? Do you hate me?" You asked, looking up at him with a small frown and furrowed eyebrows.

"N-No! Of course not." He eeped in a high pitch voice as he felt you intertwine your hand with his.

"Then don't go. Don't leave me." You smiled as you felt him settle back in his seat.

Spencer frantically looked at somebody for help but found everybody paying no attention and giving them their space. Hotch was on call with his wife and brushdd off his eyes that screamed S.O.S and those who set this up were innocently eating dessert in the kitchen. It didn't take a genius profiler to know that he, Spencer Reid, had been played. So Spencer accepted his fate.

It wasn't a bad fate to accept. He looked at the woman on his arm and felt himself sink into the cushions of the couch. This wasn't too bad. He looked down at you as soon as you looked up at him. You smiled and he reciprocated it.

"Hug me." You ordered. It was a soft order. A small command that barely escaped your lips. Who was he to deny a small action that would've made you smile even more.

He carefully moved his hand that you held onto and brought it around your shoulder. You wasted no time to connect your hands back together and mindlessly played with his fingers.

You weren't sure how you got back home. You were on your bed, still in the clothes you wore the night before but in a cardigan you remember all too well. As the memories of last night slowly re-entered your mind, you didn't what any normal person would've done and screamed in horror.

Penelope, who was sleeping on the other side of the bed, immediately shot up in fear. "What happened?!"

"My life is over." You cried out, dramatically falling into your pillow and hiding your face with your hands before you came to a realization. "You planned that didn't you? I should've known something was up when you decorated that last shot so beautifully that I had no choice but to drink it and reveal the most embarassing part of my drunk stage."

"I'm sorry honey but at least you were the little cutey you always are." Penelope said, thankful that you werent getting murdered and was just embarassed.

"What happened after that last shot?" You were scared to hear the answer and Penelope's answer reinforced that notion. With each action she listed, you felt yourself getting ready to jump out the window from the third story of your apartment building. "I can never face Spencer again. I need to change my identity and- and - and leave."

Apparently after your little stunt on the couch, you refused to let go of Spencer, even when it wss time to go. You only let go of him when you saw Penelope. You threw your arms around her and gave her a hug as well, then went down the line. Penelope got ready to walk you home since you planned in a sleepover afterwards, but apparently, you threw yourself back on Spencer when he tried leaving too soon. You don't even want to try and remember what happened after that.

A whole mess. A whole mess that you created with the terrible influence of Penelope and those she employed in her little act. A mess that you would need to face and deal with. Oh the stress.

You buried your head in your pillow and tried to forget reality. This was a nightmare.

[bloodrvvvsh]

I Have No Shame. | Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Spencer joins the Mile High Club with your help.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Warnings: Handjobs, semi-public sex, they get caught (sort of?), soft sub!Spencer, soft dom!Reader, Spencer being a whimpering whining mess, facials, cum eating, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, honey, good boy), literally so much praise, a little bit of crying from Spencer, like one (1) use of Y/N, slight dumbification, begging

Word count: 1.5K

Notes: My first Spencer fic wow!!!! It’s been so long since I’ve written an actual fic, I missed it so much. Anyways I hope you all enjoy! For this I imagined like s1-s4 Spence but could technically be interpreted as any season

Cross-posted on A03.

Spencer Reid was not a bold man.

In fact, he would go as far to say he was the total opposite. At least, in his personal life he certainly was. He never made the first move, always waiting for that perfect time that never came.

He didn’t like taking risks. Even calculated ones were too much for him sometimes. So he stayed in his little bubble of comfort and safety. He liked it there. Sure, it might make him the subject of a bit of teasing and he missed out on a few things, but at the end of the day he still liked it there.

Until he met you.

You were everything he wasn’t. Outgoing, daring, bold. In some ways, you could even be described as a bit of an adrenaline junkie. It’s actually partly what led you to joining the FBI. You liked the thrill, the high stakes, the way it got your blood pumping when you had to chase down a criminal on the loose. 

You lived for taking risks. The idea of never truly knowing what might happen made your spine tingle, every one of your hairs stand on. There wasn’t a better feeling than feeling a little sick to your stomach with nerves and excitement for you.

It's an interesting dynamic you and Spencer had - he was all for playing it safe and keeping to himself, while you could be a wildcard. Spencer learned that very quickly after you two started dating. And while it wasn’t that you were trying to change him (you would never!), you were simply opening him up to things he wouldn’t have thought twice about.

Everyone else on the jet was fast asleep. Slumped over and curled up in positions that would certainly give them a knot in their neck later. Spencer had his head laid over your lap, curls sprawled across your thighs while you mindlessly twirled the strands around your fingers. 

You were still wide awake. The rush of the case just closed still ran hot through your veins. You’d most definitely crash later once in the sanctity of your apartment, but for now you were full of energy. You tried to distract yourself by staring out the jet window, watching the world go by, but it wasn’t working.

You glanced down at the pretty boy sprawled across you like a sleeping angel and a little thought popped into your head. You shifted in your seat, sitting up straighter, before you gently threaded your fingers into Spencer’s hair. Your nails scraped across his scalp and you almost swore you could have heard a little purr rumble in his chest.

You leaned over him, breathing slowly in vain attempt to settle your already racing heart. “Spence,” you crooned softly. “Spencer, wake up, baby.” Once Spencer actually fell asleep, he was a fairly light sleeper. It didn’t take much before he was stirring awake with a quiet groan.

“What is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. His hands raised to rub at his eyes and you could only smile. “Did we land?”

“No,” you said a little too quickly, “No, I just..” You trailed off a little as your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip. “I had an idea.” You stood to your feet and offered your hand out to him. He quirked an eyebrow, glancing between your face and outstretched hand, before slowly placing his in your grasp.

There was a little bit of a bounce in your steps as you led him in the direction of the bathroom and in that moment, Spencer regretted agreeing to whatever you were about to do. He squeezed your hand and you tossed  him a smile that reeked of mischief over your shoulder.

It was a tight squeeze once inside. Because, like most airplane bathrooms, it was meant to only fit one person at a time. That didn’t stop a lot of people, though. And you were one of them.

You crashed your lips against his the minute the door locked behind the two of you. It was hot, full of passion and lust as your hands roamed over his body. He whimpered softly against your lips before relaxing into the kiss. His hands were warm and broad against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

You didn’t waste time when you wanted something, and you wanted him right here and now. Your hands drifted until they hit their target - his belt. You broke for air, panting heavy and hard, as you tried to make quick work of shedding the layers between you and his dick.

“Y/N-” he gasped. “Wait, wait-” He took hold of your wrists, halting your movements. His eyebrows pinched together and his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly. “What if we get caught?”

You grinned at him. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to be quiet so we won’t.” You knew just how much of a struggle it was for Spencer to keep himself under control when he was feeling good. The noise complaints from your neighbors were proof enough. 

Your hand dipped into his pants and underwear and you tried to suppress the smirk that threatened to spread over your face when you wrapped your fingers for his half-hard cock. He gasped, but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth when you shot him a look.

His eyes rolled back as you began to stroke along his length. Your thumb brushed over the tip, smearing the pre-cum gathering and Spencer’s knees buckled. Your pace was slow, almost languid, teasing.

“Please,” Spencer whined. You grinned once more.

“Please what?” you murmured. You leaned even closer to him, somehow, hovering over his lips. You were both breathing heavily and practically sharing breaths. You took a moment to look over his adorably flushed face. “You’re so pretty, Spence..”

“Please.” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, pleasure clouding his usually bright mind. “Please, please, pl-ease.” His voice cracked when you sped up, his head lulling back. “F-feels so good, oh god.”

You cooed at the state of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Faux pity coated your words, making Spencer whine again. “Come on, use your words, honey. I can’t read minds.” You snickered.

His hand jumped to grab your wrist, not to stop you, no. He was too far gone to stop you now. He simply held it there, keeping a tight grip on you as you jerked his cock. 

He looked like a total mess. An absolutely stunning mess, but a mess nonetheless. Curls sticking to his forehead and cheeks, plush lips parted in soft moans, eyes squeezed tight, face flushed shades of red. His hips arched into your touch, cock twitching in your hold.

“Are you gonna cum?” you asked and he nodded frantically. His lips twitched into a soft frown as tears began to well in his big brown eyes. God, he always the prettiest he was all dumb and fucked out. “Good boy,” you crooned at him.

You dropped down to your knees. You finally freed his dick from the confines of his underwear and he hissed at the feeling of the cold air. You didn’t waste a moment to resume your ministrations.

“Look at me, Spencer,” you commanded and he immediately followed the order. He nearly lost it at the sight of you on your knees before him. “Good boy, that’s it..” You picked up the pace even further, hand almost a blur stroking him.

“I’m- I’m gonna-” he stumbled over his words, unable to even form proper words as the pleasure grew. You shook your head.

“Do it, Spence,” you commanded again. “You can do it. Cum all over my face, pretty boy.” And that’s all it took for Spencer to tumble right over the edge. He tightened his grip on your wrist, back arching as he spilled over your face in thick spurts.

You worked him through his orgasm, stroking slow and gently, until he began to whine from overstimulation. You slowly rose to your feet and Spencer was already offering you paper towels to clean yourself. You ran a finger through one of the streaks of cum on your face and brought it to your lips, eyes fluttering shut and soft groans escaping you as you tasted him.

When you opened your eyes again, he was beet-red and looking oh-so shy and cute. You giggled. You gladly took the paper towels and began to wipe away the remnants of his cum.

You connected your lips in a chaste kiss when you were finished, making him blush even more. “You did such a good job, angel,” you praised before pressing another kiss to his lips. He tucked himself back into his jeans and buckled them back up. You entangled your fingers together, leading him out of the bathroom.

You made your way back to your seats, a sense of satisfaction settled in your chest. “Reid?” The call of your boyfriend’s name had you both glancing back to see Hotch awake in one of the jet chairs. “Don’t do that again”

Heat washed over both of your cheeks and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the growing smile on your lips. “Yes, sir,” Spencer said with a nod of his head.

At least you had fun.

[kirislovelygf]

Req: (pre end of s1 events) Sevika falls in love with the (maybe younger??) reader who works at the last drop and she awkwardly has to figure out how to talk to them, knowing that she's intimidating.

across the bar (sevika x gn! reader)

contents: sevika has a crush on the bartender and keeps coming by but doesnt know how to talk to reader, have a little late night walk, they talk more, fluff, first meeting, confession, first kissesssss, reader has a FAT crush on sevika wrd count: 3.1k (yikesss)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

i’ve been a bartender at the last drop for about a couple months now. and almost every night i’ve been working here, sevika’s been in the corner. i thought she was hot at first. 

but then i caught her staring. at first i thought it was cute, like eye flirting but she never actually came up to talk to me. i’d bring shots to her table, some of her minions would come up and order for her, but she never talked to me. 

and every time i tried to talk to her, i’d miss her. she’d walk out ot he bar before i could get the chance. 

i was kind of creeped out. a big scary woman with scars and dark eyes watching me?

i got freaked out and started carrying a knife with me for the late night shifts. 

but then later, she actually started saying hi. my first instinct was to be nice. and there’d be instances where she’d try to come up to the bar but i was busy running around, making drinks. 

but the day came when she actually came up to order from me. 

i was laughing with my friend as they were sitting, sipping on a beer, when sevika came up and slammed her beer glass on the wood. we stared at her awkwardly and my friend took that as a sign to walk away. “i’ll.. come back later.” he said. 

i glared as he left. i look up at sevika. “hi. need a refill?” i asked. 

“nah.. what’s that?” she tilted her chin to a green and yellow colored drink a woman was enjoying in the corner booth.

“oh... zaun sunset. want one? i make them myself.” i said to her. she tilts her head slightly. “don’t you make all the drinks yourself? 

“i make some of them. but i just pour everything else.” i said. she squints her eyes at me, making my heart drop to my stomach. 

“anyway.. i’ll get started on that.” i smiled softly.

i went to get the drinks to make it while glancing every couple seconds. she didn’t leave the bar and everytime we made eye-contact, she’d look away. 

now that she’s not in the darkest corner of the bar and i can see her face, she’s actually really hot. 

hopefully she’s just hot and not a creep. 

i placed two cherries on the drink and went and placed it in front of her with a napkin beside it. 

“here you go.” i smiled softly. 

she stared at it. “it’s a little.. frilly, don’t you think?” she muttered. 

“is it the cherries?” i chuckled. 

she stares at it for another second and picks out the cherries onto a napkin i placed beside the drink. i laugh softly before she takes a long sip. 

i watched her eyes widen and i chuckled softly. “is it still too frilly?” 

“what the hell did you put in this?” she asked. “everything.”  

i smiled at her. she's kinda.. 

someone called me over for a refill. “you enjoy that.” i said to her. i took the cherry from her napkin and popped it in my mouth before  i walked away. 

the rest of the night continued to pour people's drinks and stuff. 

around two a.m, i closed the bar for the night. i waved bye to the last person that walked out and locked the door. 

i then turned to the dirty, unorganized, sticky, smelly bar and sighed out. 

it was my night to clean so i walked over to the record player before getting started. 

while looking for some music, someone knocked on the door. 

“we’re closed, go away.” i yelled out, looking back at the door. the silhouette looked familiar and i walked over to the window. i stepped on a chair to look through it. 

it was sevika pacing the floor outside the door. 

“oh..” 

i jumped down from the chair, unlocked the door and opened it. she had her fist rased, about to knock again.

“hey. sorry about that, um.. you know we’re closed right?” 

“i know. i just uh..” she stuttered. 

“i noticed you didn't leave.. and there’s some drunk guys down the alley. i just.. didn’t want you walking home alone.” she explained. 

so she was waiting for me to leave..

“oh! okay.. well, i have to clean the bar, so maybe once i’m done, you can walk me home?”

her eyes widened slightly. “um..” 

“i’ll be quick. i could use the company anyway.” 

she nodded and i let her in before locking the door again. i went over to the record player and found a song. “la camisa negra” played the opening notes before i turned up the volume. 

“can i help?” she asked as i walked over. 

“nah, just sit. talk to me.” i smiled. i went to find a rag and spray. 

“your name’s sevika, right?” 

“um.. yeah.” she said as she took a seat at the bar.

“do you know my name?” i asked as i walked to a table. 

“i might be wrong. is it y/n?” 

“yeah, good guess.” i chuckled. 

i looked up at her, smiling softly. she shakes her head. “i feel bad just sitting here.” she stepped off the bar stool and walked over. 

“here..” she stands in front of me and gently takes the rag and spray from my hand. 

“i got these tables.” she hummed in a low tone. 

i have never been so turned on. oh my god. 

i stared up at her as my face went hot. “uhuh.. thanks..” i muttered as i walked away. i looked back at her wiping down the table with her hand. 

i huffed and waved a hand at my face. “hot.. hot in here.” i whispered. 

i found another rag and spray bottle and joined her. 

it was silent for a second before i started talking to her. 

“so.. what do you do? besides hang around here..” i asked. she glances up at me before muttering. “um..” 

“if i had to guess.. cake decorator?” i smiled. she laughs softly. 

“orr.. maybe you make cute clothes for little dogs.” i said. 

“dogs need clothes?” 

“yeah! they get cold.” i joked. she shakes her head. 

he picks up her supplies and moves to a table closer to me. oh my god, look at her muscles. she looks so good. 

“so what do you actually do?” i said, regrettably taking my eyes off her.

“i work for vander.. sort of.”  

“wow.. i was way off.” i moved to another table. “you just.. move deliveries for him or something?” 

“sort of.” she hummed. 

i look over and she’s not smiling anymore. 

“what about you? is this the only thing you do?” she asked. 

“the only thing i get paid for. and it’s not much, you know how cheap vander is.” i joked. she smiles softly.

wait, she's so cute, aw.

“but i paint and stuff sometimes. that canvas over there?” she looks at me and i direct her to a canvas hanging over the booth in the corner. it was of the skyline of zaun but brighter with happier colors. 

“i just finished it last month.” i told her. 

“whoa...” she hummed. “it’s nice.” 

i smiled. “how long did it take you?” 

“just a week or two. it’s hard to stop when i’m really into something.” i said. 

“hm.. is there more?” she asked. 

i look up from the table. i move on to the one she was at. “yeah, i paint stuff all over the city. not those dumb, sloppy graffiti tags kids make.. most of the murals you see, i made them.” i shrugged. 

“no way.” she said. “you should show me once we get outta here.”

“you sure? we’re gonna walk a lot.” i said, looking up at her. oh my god, her lips look so biteable. would she mind if i jumped over this table right now? 

“i don’t mind.” she shook her head slightly before moving on to another table. i watched her before moving to another table. 

we eventually finished and she insisted on lifting all the chairs to put them over the tables. i’m so glad i let her. 

i got to watch her flex her muscles for like ten minutes while pretending to clean the bar. 

i wasn’t cleaning no damn bar. i was imagining what her muscles would feel like around my head. 

“you finished?”

“huh?” she was in front of me on the other side of the bar. she blinked. “are you finished here?” 

“oh! yeah, just about.” i chuckled. i quickly wiped it down before moving to put away the bottles of liquor i left out. 

i was too lazy to get the step stool from the back, so i tried reaching the top shelf to put away the whiskey.

“let me get that for you.” i heard sevika mutter.she went up behind me and she took the bottle from my hand before placing it on the shelf with ease. 

she goes for the other bottle. “this too?” 

“yeah..” i breathed out. 

i was under her, watching her, staring at her face before she looked down at me. 

i should have some shame but i don’t. and i don’t care!

“thanks.” 

“no problem.” 

“i could use your help around here more often. to reach the tall stuff.” i hummed softly. 

i thought she was going to kiss me before she walked away. “maybe..” she hummed. 

i swear she was teasing me. or what if she hates me? 

my eyes rolled to the back of my head before i went to go find the broom. 

she tried to take the broom from me but i insisted it was fine. “it’s okay! i got it.” i laughed. 

“just go sit.. pour yourself some whiskey or something.” i chuckled. 

“i just put it away.” she said as she walked over to sit. “then water, i dunno.” 

we look at eachother, chuckling softly. 

“i still feel bad just watching you.” 

“there’s literally nothing else for you to do. just talk to me.” i chuckled as i sweeped under tables. 

“i’m not.. very good at that.” she said. 

“that’s okay. um.. what's some stuff you like to do?” 

“drink.. gamble.. smoke.. read.. that’s it.” she shrugged. 

“okay..” i chuckled. “reading is cool. what do you like to read?” 

“old history books mostly. sounds boring, but i always loved learning.”

i look over at her. “that's… unexpected. you don’t see many people over fifteen reading down here.” 

“my old man made me learn when i was young.” she said. “ohh.” i chuckled.  

“so history.. what about fun fantasy books, hm? you like the ones with magic and stuff?” i asked. 

“when i was a kid, yeah.” she chuckled. “grown-ups can read those books too.” i said to her. 

i look over at her. her back against the chair, her arm and hand on the bar, my clothes slipping off. 

i mean, whaaatt. 

“i dunno.. after growing up down here, i stopped believing in  those stories, you know?” she walks over to the record player and changes the music. 

“just like everyone around here.” she hummed. 

i stared at her. i realized i just sweeped up the whole bar. i walked over to stand next to her seat. 

i leaned against the bar. “isn’t it better to believe in those than in whatever mess zaun is?” 

“it’d be nice but it’s not reality.” 

i studied her face. she had dark circles under her grey eyes. i wonder if her lips look that good  naturally or if she likes wearing lipstick. 

she looks down at me before nervously averting her gaze. 

“d-don’t you need to put that away?” she muttered. 

“ah.. yeah. i’ll be right back, then we can get out of here.”  

i walked away from her and came back to her, taking a cigarette out of her pocket. 

“alright, i’m done. lets go look at some of my art.” i sighed out. 

she turns off the record player and i turn off all the lights. 

she holds the door open for me. “what a gentle-lady, thank you.” i smiled. she laughed nervously and i turned to lock the door. i glanced at her. 

she was nervously flicking her lighter to get a flame. 

i smiled to myself at how such a terrifying woman can get nervous so easily. 

“come on..” i said to her. 

i’ve gone home with other hot people but i never completely trusted any of them. but for some reason, i felt so safe with her behind me. 

probably because she’s 6’5, like two hundred pounds of muscle and has a gun on her belt. 

i led her through the lanes, showing her a couple of my smaller murals. she had little to say about them but seeing her face, i knew she liked them. 

i finished showing her another one before taking her hand. “my best one is this way, come on.” 

i led her to an alleyway before i let go of her hand. we turned a couple corners, climbed a couple stairs, until we reached the rooftop of an old building and then onto its balcony. 

she jumped down first before holding her arm out to help me. 

“thanks.” i smiled at her as i touched the metal floor. we look over at my mural on the wall of an old factory that towered over the neighborhood we were in. 

“this is the biggest one i’ve ever done. took me a couple months.” i said to her. “i named her 'the woman in the wind.' i think it’s my best piece.” 

she stared up at my piece in awe and i never felt so accomplished for a piece. 

i look up at her face. “you’re.. so incredibly talented.” she spoke. “how’d you even come up with something like this?” 

“it was supposed to start out as a mural of my mom, who died when i was little.. but i realized when i was sketching out her face that i didn’t remember her as well as i thought i did.” she both leaned against the railing to stare at the artwork. 

“even now, i’m not completely sure i remember what she looked like. and it was just barely.” i smiled. 

“so, i called it the woman in the wind because everytime i tried to remember her, it was like little details would come and go, like they were blowing past in a breeze..” i shrugged. 

i look up at her and she’s still staring. “i know it sounds weird and corny but-” 

“no.”

oh?? 

“it’s.. absolutely beautiful.” she nodded. 

she looks at me and smiles. suddenly, the scary woman who never spoke was the sweetest and prettiest person i’ve ever seen. 

“you know i’ve walked past this mural… probably a hundred times.” she sighed out.

“i think it’s even more beautiful now that i know someone like you made it.” she said.

no she didn't! that was perfect.

i laughed softly. “come on, don’t make me blush.” i jokingly hit her arm and she laughs. 

we’re silent for a moment, just staring at it. 

“have you always dreamed of doing something like this?” she asks, taking a drop from her cigarette. 

“yeah, but.. i dreamed of becoming someone famous and getting out of the undercity. i’d dream of owning a fancy apartment up on topside, selling my art..” i said.

she chuckled. i shoved her arm. “hey, don't laugh. i was a kid.” i laughed. 

“okay, okay..” 

ugh, she’s gorgeous. 

“you had to have had crazy dreams when you were little too., right?” she chuckled.

she blinks and looks away. “nah..”

“yeah, you do. come on, i won’t laugh.” i smiled. 

“i mean.. it was a long time ago but for a while i wanted to be a zookeeper. i liked animals, so..” she shrugged. 

“that’s.. not crazy. that's so cute! never would've assumed you were an animal lover.” i said teasingly. 

she laughs softly. “you have any pets?” 

“nah, i don’t got any time for that. running all over the lanes keeps me busy.” 

“hmm..” i watch her with a smile on her face. i dont know why i was ever scared of her, she’s so cute and sweet.  

“anyway.. we should get you home.” she said, exhaling smoke. “it’s getting late.” 

“you can say you’re bored of me, it's okay.” i said jokingly. “what? no!” she chuckled. i climbed up to the roof before turning to help her but she barely needed it. 

we walked through the lanes lit by neon green and purple lights. we talked the whole way home and all the weird junkies and prostitutes and just weird night people walked right past us or avoided us. 

i have to take like ten shortcuts just to avoid the main streets. but everyone was  terrified of even making eye contact with sevika.

the closer we got to my house, the more she started opening up to me.

we finally arrived to my small place. i had my key in my hand and stepped on one of the steps that led to my front door. 

“i really appreciate you walking me home.” i said, leaning on the railing. 

“yeah, of course. but.. do you usually work so late? and walk home by yourself? it’s not very safe.” 

i laughed. i pulled up my pant leg and took out the knife i mentioned i started carrying when she first started borderline stalking me. 

“whoa-” she jerks her head back at the size of the blade. 

“yeah, not safe for anyone who talks to me. me? i’m good.” i shrugged. she laughs slightly before i put it back. 

“huh.. well, next time, just let me know. i’d be happy to do it again.” she inched closer to me. her chin was slightly lifted up as i’m now around her height. 

“unless you have a scarier and taller person to do it instead.” she shrugged. i laughed.

“nah, i think i'll just stick with you.” 

ugh can she kiss me already. okay, you know what? i’m getting this over with. fuck a slowburn, i need her tonight.

“actually, it’s way too late for you to walk home.” i said. her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

she knows she will obviously be fine walking at any hour at night by herself. 

“you can stay over tonight..” i hummed. 

“are you sure?” she asked. i simply shrugged. she looks down at my hand and takes it in hers. 

she stares at me for a second before pulling me forward. i caught myself on her chest and we laughed as my hands went to hold her face. 

we kissed before her hand snaked around my waist. 

i never walked home by myself again after that night. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: thank you @dopemusiccowboy for submitting this!! i had fun writing it!

[fear-is-truth]

CHO SANG-WOO (조상우)

₊‧꒰ warnings ꒱ ‧₊˚ soft dom!sang-woo ۶ৎ age gap ۶ৎ s1 spoilers ۶ৎ nsfw 18+ . . . headcanons ˚₊˙⋆ ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊. ˚₊‧꒰ note ꒱ ‧ i was trying to be realistic so…

PRE-GAME

۫ ꣑ৎ he takes you to meet his mother early on—this is huge, considering sang-woo is a private person, and his mother is the only family he has. so if you meet her, it means he sees a future with you. she adores you, treating you like the daughter she never had.

۫ ꣑ৎ your parents simply love him. they can’t believe their child is dating a graduate from seoul national university. it doesn’t even matter that he’s a few years older than you—they brag about him constantly. “he’s a genius,” they tell their friends. “successful, hardworking. polite, too.”

۫ ꣑ৎ if you don’t like him smoking, he promises to cut back. never smokes in your presence, doesn’t lets the scent cling to his clothes when he comes home to you. he’s careful about it, rinsing his mouth before kissing you. if you catch him sneaking a cigarette on a particularly bad day, he sighs and stubs it out before you even have to say anything.

۫ ꣑ৎ sang-woo thrives on intellectual conversations, especially enjoys debating with you, because he finds your mind fascinating.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s a perfectionist in every aspect of his life, including your relationship. sang-woo holds himself to an impossibly high standard, and sometimes, that extends to you—he doesn’t mean to be critical, but he has expectations, and when they aren’t met, he gets frustrated. he learns, over time, to be gentler with you, to let go of the idea that everything needs to be perfect.

۫ ꣑ৎ chronic insomniac. but if you’re beside him, if your hand is resting on his chest or your leg is tangled with his, he sleeps a little easier. on nights when sleep won’t come, he watches you instead.

۫ ꣑ৎ occasionally gifts you with expensive jewellery, but nothing gaudy. real gold and diamonds—elegant in their simplicity. he prefers to see you in things with longevity that won’t lose their value. doubles as an investment piece, not just accessories.

۫ ꣑ৎ no matter how busy he is, sang-woo never forgets important dates. your birthday, your anniversary, even the day you first met. he never brings it up in advance, but he always has something special planned.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s disciplined, wakes up at the same time every day, drinks his coffee black, works for hours without rest. but for you, he bends—just a little. if you want to sleep in, he lets you, only sighing fondly when you roll over and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his back. “five more minutes,” you moan, and against his better judgment, he stays.

۫ ꣑ৎ not outwardly possessive, but he is a bit controlling. he won’t tell straight up dictact who you can and can’t see, but he will casually criticise them if he thinks they’re a bad influence. he won’t demand your location either, but will insist that you check in with him, just so he “knows you’re safe.”

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s very reliable (until he isn’t) at first, he’s the perfect lover. calls when he says he will, never forgets your birthday or anniversary, handles things efficiently. but as his debts mounts and pressure builds, there’s a certain tightness in his jaw when money is mentioned. he won’t talk about it. he won’t let you in.

POST-DEBT

۫ ꣑ৎ not emotionally available, prefers to keep things bottled up. when sang-woo is stressed, he withdraws into himself.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s haunted; the investment failure eats him alive. gradually becomes distant, distracted, and hates when you ask questions about his finances. sang-woo lies—first to you, then to himself—because the truth is unbearable.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s frustrated at himself, but it manifests in other ways—he snaps over small things, withdraws from conversations, goes through more cigarettes per day.

۫ ꣑ৎ still tries to take care of you. he won’t let you pay for things, even if he can’t afford them. he’ll miss meals before letting you notice that money is tight. his pride is too big to let you see how bad things have gotten.

۫ ꣑ৎ he hates that you don’t leave; he wants to tell you to go. you should be with someone who isn’t drowning in debt and in constant fear of the police. but he can’t bring himself to say it. instead, he avoids you, keeps you at arm’s length.

۫ ꣑ৎ if you ever found out about his debt, the man would break down—nobody is supposed to know. not his mother, especially not you. if you find out and don’t leave? he’ll be both relieved and devastated, because you should leave. and yet you don’t.

۫ ꣑ৎ he debates leaving you “for your own good.” he genuinely thinks you’d be better off without him. if you catch onto his self-destructive tendencies and reassure him that you want to be here, he just stares at you like he doesn’t understand why.

NSFW

۫ ꣑ৎ not the type to outright deny you, but when he’s teasing, it’s in an excruciatingly nonchalant manner. he’s busy, he says, without even looking up from his laptop. too much work, too little time—yadda yadda. he makes you wait, makes you impatient, until he finally shuts his laptop and pins you to the mattress as if he hadn’t been ignoring you for the past hour.

۫ ꣑ৎ doesn’t experiment much, because he knows what works and doesn’t see a reason to change it. but if you want to try something, he won’t shut it down, either. he’ll simply raise an eyebrow, consider it for a second, and say, “if that’s what you want.”

۫ ꣑ৎ doesn’t talk much in bed, but because he doesn’t see the point. he’s focused, too busy paying attention to you to bother with unnecessary words. at most, you’ll get quiet groans, maybe a low, approving hum if you’re particularly responsive.

۫ ꣑ৎ mostly vanilla sex. no elaborate kinks, except for the occasional bondage using ties (but it’s more for effect). he likes routine, and that applies to the bedroom too. sang-woo knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly how to get the reaction he wants out of you.

۫ ꣑ৎ when he’s stressed though, he gets rough; burying his face in your neck as he fucks you like he’s trying to forget everything else.. not intentional, just a byproduct of the pressure he’s under. afterward, when he realises how rough he was, he’s gentle again—hands smoothing over your skin, lips pressing on your temple as an apology.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s a soft dom!!!! and you’re his pillow princess, whether you intended to be or not. he prefers to the one doing the work.

SQUID GAME

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s shocked to see you there. horrified, even. sang-woo was ready to do what it takes to win, but you weren’t supposed to be here.

۫ ꣑ৎ will not let you slow him down. sounds cruel, but sang-woo is in survival mode. he will help you, but only as long as it doesn’t jeopardise him.

۫ ꣑ৎ if it comes down to a split-second decision—you or him—sang-woo doesn’t want to think about what he’ll choose.

۫ ꣑ৎ tells himself he doesn’t afford to love you under the deadly circumstances. but when he closes his eyes, all he sees is you.

pic creds to AESTHCORE_276 on pinterest

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[k1mbe3rly]

Haii pooks I'm back with another request 😼 I didnt know if you write headcanons or squid game s1 characters the hc would be fem!reader relieving her stress/fear by sucking her partner's tits (so female characters)

The characters included : Sae Byeok (067) , ji yeong (240) , jun-hee (222) , young-mi (095) , Se-mi (380) , No eul (guard 011)

🔥🔥🔥

bet😩😩 lowkey bad since i barely do heacannons 💔

Sucking squid game women’s tits head cannons

featuring: Saebyeok (067), Ji yeong (240), Jun hee (222) but not pregnant, Young mi (095), Se-mi (380), No eul (guard 011)

warnings: smut, titty sucking.

Sae byeok:

- She’s the type of person to refuse at first since she wants to ‘focus’ on the games

- eventually she does give in and ask you too after tug of war

- She praises you when your sucking them

- After maybeee she’ll eat you out

Ji yeong:

- Most likely to ask you first after the game tug of war as well

- praises you as well, and strokes your hair while your sucking on them

- Would wanna feel your tongue in her boobs many times, probably even after lights out

- “Hey, after this game do you maybe..wanna.. like have some fun? as in sucking my boobs??” she asked with a cheeky smile

Jun hee:

- You were the first one to ask, She doesn’t miss the opportunity and quickly takes action, Especially after that mingle game? yeaaa she definitely needs it

- Probably doesn’t gaf is Myung gi sees yall..again

- Throws her head back with soft moans, maybe even grips on your hair a bit

- Maybe you suck on them one or two more times

Young mi:

- Gets very flustered when you asked her, you asked her after the six legs game, freezes for a whole minute before answering

- Is the type to hesitate, afraid yall are gonna get caught so she wants to wait till lights out

- Once lights out she covers her mouth to not make any sounds or to wake anyone up

- Poor baby would most likely cum and apologize for it

Se-mi:

- After Min-su basically betrayed her, you stayed with her and even after the mingle game asked to suck on her tits to make her feel better

- She might be a little rough like shoving you into them or even degrades you

- She groans out as she watches you, she lovesss feeling your tongue sucking and licking on them

- “Ah..you little slut. You’ve been wanting this huh?” “Fuckk you whore..you’ve done this before right? i could fucking tell”

No eul:

- Probably asks her after those guys cut her face a bit, your a guard as well btw

- She’ll let you but keeps her mask on, you kept your mask on as well put pulled it up enough to show your mouth

- She’ll probably even get more turned on by the way your tongue slides over her nipples and how well you suck ok them

- fingers you right after as an award for doing so well and for helping her, But after she kinda ignores you

[wishfulsketching]

I think some people miss the fact that Silco loves as hard as he hates. After the fallout with Vander, he had no real friends left. The betrayal, which was not merely a repriortizing of ideals but an outright murder attempt that left him disfigured, may have actually pushed him to become a bigger zealot than he already was.

The betrayal led to hate, that goes without saying, but I'd argue that all of Silco's love also redirected from people (who cannot be trusted) to his ambitions (which cannot hurt him, at least not directly).

I think it's really telling that once Jinx entered his life, Silco loved her more than his ideals. If he had only loved her insofar as she was useful to him, Silco would not hesitate to give her up. We see this was not the case. And, after finally understanding Vander's perspective and likely ruminating on the irony of his impending death, Silco bore no ill will against Jinx accidentally shooting him in a fit of distress. Instead, he affirmed his love for her and tacitly forgives her.

This makes Silco's forgiving of Vander in the au timeline believable. If he found the letter or Vander apologized and told him that the violence was in a moment of passionate weakness, Silco would forgive him provided not too much time has passed to allow resentment to fester. Jinx in the original timeline proves that an abundance of love and forgiveness are in-character for him. He is in fact a character of tremendous extremes.

Sorry for sitting with this for a while, wanted to have the time to answer.

I think this is a very good analysis of Silco, yes. He was never perfect, most likely could be very intense about their plans for Zaun and maybe did not care about if Enforcers got hurt, but that is almost given. He lived in absolute misery and he had clear enemies.

The thing that really made me get Silco was when he was confronting Vander in s1. The way he says "for RESPECT?!" was so telling of his...well, whole deal, the way he looks to the side like he could not believe that Vander didn't get it. He was still fighting the fight but now with trauma! Yay!

I can see him being able to forgive but like you said, there should not be too much time in between the drowning and the forgiveness. The way Vander tried to drown Silco is so violent, I was so taken back by it when I first watched Arcane. It was so clear that Silco could not do anything when Vander got his hands on him, the power difference was too great. He was terrified

And even when Silco tried to escape, leave the situation, Vander attacked again. It's so...cruel?? And that is why I love it. I love how messy they are. They lived among violence their whole life so yes, what's a bit of murder between them if they just talk about it seriously after. And give time to each other.

It's just so juicy that the man who most likely protected Silco his whole life attacked him the cruelest way possible. AND. It gives some nice flavor for Vander. He might be a house wife but he can kill you

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Up until the almost-end-of-the-world, the way Aziraphale and Crowley maintained their relationship was through a collection of well-established and repeated patterns (dances, you might say). These little rituals were what they used to communicate affection, intimacy and trust when they couldn’t say the things they wanted to say out loud. I like spending time with you. You make me happy, and I like making you happy. We’re in this together. I’ll always be there for you, even when your own side is not.

In season 1, as the stress of the impending apocalypse puts more and more pressure on their relationship, we see their patterns start to break down, and it’s very distressing for them. They’ve been communicating like this for so long that they don’t know what to do when one of them doesn’t follow the dance steps.

When we first see them in season 2, they seem in some ways to be closer than ever. They touch each other more easily, Aziraphale in particular. Crowley is comfortable enough in the bookshop that he has a Spot for putting his sunglasses when he takes them off by the door. They’re more open about acknowledging how much time they spend together and how many things in their lives are shared.

And I think, also, we expect them to be happy. They won, didn’t they? So it takes a while for the cracks to start to show.

It wasn’t until this post pointed out that the whole season, we never see them sit down and share a meal together in the present day (no, Crowley doesn’t eat; yes, it still counts) that it started coming together for me. The closer you look, the more you realize the old patterns they’re used to relying on are broken.

Three times, we see them sit down to their usual table for two (at the coffee shop, the bar, and the French restaurant) and then almost immediately get up again. This post also points out that we don’t see present-day Aziraphale eat anything on screen, other than one of the little candies in the Bentley. This in the same season we learn that Crowley is the one who introduced him to food! It’s one of their oldest rituals!

Even one of their most visually recognizable patterns starts to go wonky this season. In season 1, when the blocking allows it, Crowley’s always on Aziraphale’s left. When they’re standing or walking side by side, and most of the time when they’re sitting side by side together (there are some exceptions due to camera angles)…Crowley’s always on Aziraphale’s left (screen right if they’re facing us, screen left if we’re behind them). It’s one of the clues about the body swap that is easy to see when you know what to look for—in Berkeley Square they are each initially sitting on the “wrong” side of the bench. It’s so reliable that Aziraphale hears a little miracle bling in the sushi restaurant in s1 ep1 and turns to his left—because that’s where Crowley would appear—only to be startled by Gabriel on his right.

Go look at the scene where we find out Gabriel and Beez are a couple. You know the one.

And of course, many people have noted that in the end credits, we’d expect their positions on screen to be switched. They’re on the wrong sides. And it’s such a long shot that I think it has to be intentional.

Some people have speculated that this means they swapped bodies again. I don’t really buy that. Rather I think it is supposed to indicate what becomes extremely clear on a second viewing, that things are Off and Wrong. They are not okay.

And the more you watch them you see that Aziraphale’s excitement during his little adventures is manic and brittle, and that he misses having a place and a purpose and a mission to do good. And Crowley is depressed, unhealthily codependent, even more hypervigilant and cagey and angry than he was before. They both have layers and layers of trauma, and no way to talk about it. They have the time and freedom now to talk about what they want to be to each other, now that they don’t have to hide and encode and maintain plausible deniability. But they have no way to talk about that either, because that’s never been an option before. They don’t know how, and they are both so, so afraid.

And in the fights they have in episode 1 and episode 6, you realize they haven’t resolved anything from season 1. They’re having the same fight they had at the bandstand. Crowley wants to run, keep the two of them safe and damn the rest, and Aziraphale wants to stay and help, believing he can make a difference even in an imperfect system, and neither of them really understands the other’s position. It’s the same damn fight. They haven’t been able to move past this impasse, and it’s the exact thing that breaks them in the end.

And it’s just. Fuck. It’s such a human thing to have happened to them. To make it through the fire (metaphorical and literal) and then have everything go to shit afterward because of unaddressed traumas and insecurities and things left unsaid until they fester.

I know this is not at all how I expected the season to go, and I think it took a little while for me to parse what was going with their relationship, because we are predisposed to want them to be happy and to want things to be easy for them now. But it makes so much sense that this is where they ended up at this point in the story.

I know they’ll make it back to each other. They both love each other too much to give up. They’ll fight their way back together, and I know they’ll figure it out in the end.

But goddamn.

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter One

also on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag to find other chapters | warnings: pre- s1 (for now), profanity, mentions of death, addiction, and prostitution

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter One:

The undercity was certainly something.

Especially at night, when shadows extended their smoky tendrils to allow those dabbling in unsavoury business to lurk, gloomy buildings hiding things you’d be safer off not knowing within. People milling about, going about their private, dangerous business.

Water splashed across the street as your foot landed in a puddle, ankle twisting the wrong way as you tore through the filthy streets, enforcers hot on your heels. All this for heckling an officer? You clutched your shawl around you as the wind almost buffered it away.

It was ridiculous.

After bumping into a large man, a mother and her child, and knocking over a crate of sludge-y creatures, shouts trailing after you, you found an alleyway to disappear into. You scrambled up some wooden beams, eventually emerging onto the flat roof of the low, squatting building. You watched the idiotic Pilties run straight ahead, missing your small detour entirely, and scoffed, stepping away from the edge.

You turned, and made your way across the rooftops of Zaun. 

You’d reached an impasse. Well, not really- nothing a simple jump couldn’t fix. You squinted down into the dusty darkness of the narrow alley below your feet. This part of the undercity was silent- but you could hear the lapping water, and knew you were close to the river.

Vaulting over a concrete bar and pushing off with your feet, you landed on the other side of the gap with a thud. The roof shook, and you yelped as a tile slid off the edge, and crashed into the darkness.

Holding your breath, you heard nothing. The water continued to rumble. You turned to leave.

Until- 

“Fuck.”

You froze in horror. 

Creeping back towards the piped edge of the roof, weight on the backs of your feet, you peered into the darkness. The glowing end of a cigarette burned orange. You gulped.

A man emerged, stepping into your view. His brow was furrowed. Your hands were shaking. “I-I’m sorry!” You called out, and he scowled. 

“You nearly hit me!” He almost-yelled back. But taking a look at your face his expression softened. Against better judgement, you slid down the pipe, feet landing on the ground with an oof.

He looked at you, eyebrows raised. Someone in the undercity coming down to personally apologise for something like that instead of laughing in one’s face and running away was rare. He looked at the apologetic look on your face, and watched as you opened your mouth to speak while also stretching out your hand.

“I’m sorry…”

He reached for your hand too, ready to dismissively accept your apology and move on with his night.

“…But can I have a cigarette?”

His expression dropped.

You lazily took the cigarette from his hands and took a long, deep drag, tendrils of smoke curling from your mouth. At his frown, you moved it from your lips to speak.

“What? You don’t have herpes, do you? I’m not going to get it, am I?”

Wordlessly, he shook his head. You studied his face. Strong features, blue-green eyes. He wasn’t half bad looking.

I wouldn’t mind getting an STD from him.

Without a single reaction to your rather graphic thought you took another drag on the cigarette, before handing it back to him. “Thanks. Not everyone here knows that sharing is caring.”

He laughs, guarded, and then stops himself, surprised such a sound even came out at your words. You smiled at him sweetly. “And sorry for almost hitting your head and bashing it in with a tile. Though it wasn’t my fault, was it?”

“I suppose it was an accident,” he said stiffly, a strand of hair falling in front of his face. He dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his heel. “Miss…”

“[name]. Janna, I really needed to calm my nerves.” You stretched, arching your back like a cat, feeling the bones pop and muscles stretch deliciously. The man wet his lips, looking out at the street through the alley.

“And why would that be?” His voice was smooth. You readjusted your shawl. 

“Some enforcers were chasing me. The usual.” You let out a slow sigh, going to leave the alley without as much as a goodbye. He didn’t say anything, just watched you leave.

You planted a foot out into the street.

“That’s her!” 

You whipped your head around, watching a gaggle enforcers charging towards you. A scream tore from your lips you rushed back into the alleyway. The man grabbed you as you almost crashed into his chest.

“Fucking run!”

Shimmying up the pipe, you were back on the roof. You didn’t spare a turn to look back as your heavy lunges rattled the roofs, leaping over bars and gaps. You turned and saw an enforcer slip through a gap in the roofs, crashing into the street below. The man from the alley was just at your shoulder. Without a sparing a second you turned and left.

Once you were certain you’d lost the enforcers you stopped, chest heaving, and slumped onto the ground- roof- beneath you. The man stayed standing, eyeing you with an unreadable expression.

“Okay,” you gasped, turning over. “Now I’m actually sorry.” Coughing while trying to catch your breath you extended a hand. “Do you have water or something? I’m sorry.”

He let out a heavy sigh, not knowing how to behave in this situation as he took out a flask, crouching down and holding it out to you as you continuously mumbled apologies. You gulped down the water inside. “It isn’t poisoned, is it?” You sighed, wiping your mouth as you handed it back. He sat down as he took it, joining you on the slanted roof. 

“You only think to ask that after you’ve downed half the thing?” His voice was filled with amusement. You ignored him.

“I’m sorry, mister…”

“Silco.”

You stared at him as he took out another cigarette, patting his pockets for a lighter. Without a word you took one out, flicking it open and pushing down to activate the flame. You held it in front of his face. “I’m sorry, Silco.”

The cigarette lit up. You studied his profile, mainly the line of his sharp nose as he inhaled deeply.

“It’s fine. Why do you keep apologizing?”

“I got you involved in a chase with enforcers after almost dropping a tile on your head and taking your cigarette.”

“You didn’t have to take the cigarette,” he muttered, miffed. You ignored him, the lighter snapping shut. “And my plans for the night have been ruined…”

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. He looked at you, chuckling. “I’ll make it up to you somehow, if you want.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Such generosity is rare.”

“Not generosity. Justice.”

He laughed again, at your dramatics this time as he rolled the cigarette in between his long fingers. “Right. Justice.”

“So, one favour.”

“That’s a dangerous offer, [name].” A thought struck him, and he furrowed his brow. “Don’t tell me you’re from topside.”

You stared at him for a minute, then scoffed. “Of course I’m not. What makes you think that?”

“Your naivety.” He blew smoke from his lungs, and you watched as it curled over the rooftops. “It’s not a good idea to go around offering favours to strangers.”

“I’m as much of a trencher as you are, Silco,” you scoffed.

At this, he suddenly grabbed your wrist. You stared at him in shock as his lip curled, expression furious. You blinked, unmoving. 

“Zaunite.”

“Wh-what?”

“Use Zaunite. Not the name they gave us.” His grip on your wrist loosened before falling away completely. You nodded.

“Right.”

It fell silent.

“And I’ll never cash in that favour.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Because, it’s a stupid idea. If anything, I’m doing you a favour.” Another drag. You turned over to look at the sky.

“Thanks… I guess?”

He chuckled again, smoke curling from in between his teeth. Your face felt warm. “You’re strange.”

“So I’ve been told. What exactly were the plans for your night that I so rudely ruined?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I hope you weren’t visiting a cathouse.”

He groaned, and you laughed, snatching the cigarette off of him. He didn’t stop you. “Certainly not. Not for the cats, at least.”

“The cats?”

“The women, [name].”

“Well, what else would you go there for?”

“You’d be surprised.”

You frown. “Right… so no prostitutes.”

“Definitely not. It’s an immoral practice.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “A trencher with morals. I see.”

“Zaunite,” he said through gritted teeth.

You shrugged, sucking on the cigarette. “Well, I don’t care. They’re just making a living.”

“And what would you consider immoral?”

You blew out a cloud of smoke, and for a moment you considered saying something that he’d agree with, racking your brains for an appropriate answer. He clearly hated topside…

“What those Pilties are doing. Their prejudice against us,” you said proudly. He gave a small laugh.

“Right. Everyone thinks that. Something unique, please.”

You stayed silent. “Well… I do believe capitalising on addiction is quite immoral.”

“Ironic, considering that cigarette you’re holding.”

“There are extremes.” Your voice was low, and it was clear there was a story behind the subject. He didn’t press you, simply watching you put out the cigarette on the tin roof, your appetite for nicotine crushed.

After a quiet moment you spoke. “My sister was pregnant. Some… drug lord got her hooked onto something.” You rested your head down. “It was dangerous. They don’t make it anymore.” He hummed silently. “I lost both her and the baby. And she was all I had left, so…”

“The father?”

You scoffed, and that told him more than he needed to know.

“That… drug… business owner… whatever he was- he didn’t need money. He was filthy rich,” you spat. “A-“ your eyes slid to Silco- “A Zaunite, hoarding money, sucking life out of his own people, and not sharing a single drop. I hate that bastard.”

“What became of him?”

“Business crushed, killed by enforcers.” Your response was curt.

He hummed. “Well, in that case, I certainly won’t go down that path.”

“…I suppose I won’t work in a brothel either.”

“Or own one,” he added. You laughed.

“Or own one.”

You sighed gently, standing up. “Well, I hope whatever business you missed gets resolved. Goodbye, Silco.” You made to climb down to the street.

“Wait-“

You looked up.

“You said you don’t have anyone. If you’re ever… looking for company, go to the Last Drop. Tell the bartender you’re looking for Silco.”

Your eyes enlarged as you stowed the name in your memory. “The Last Drop,” you repeated, then nodded.

“Goodbye, [name].” 

You smiled again, and dropped down into the crowd.

When you looked back up to the sky, to the roof, he was gone.

-

[moonlight-prose]

this prompt with husband tommy miller because i know damn well that man writes love letters, i just KNOW it "I tried to burn the letters, the memories, but the fire wouldn’t take them! It’s like the universe won’t let me forget you!"

an old owl calling

a/n: the speed at which i wrote this request shocked me honestly. i haven't had this much inspo for tommy since s1 came out. but us watching the first episode together and barking over how good this man looks is sparking the creativity again. also i'm just a massive sucker for angst and he called for it immediately. i genuinely can't even explain how much i missed him, but hopefully this does that for me.

summary: memories were bullets you could never dig out from a body that had seen too much. flashes of when you were happy together, moments in time you ached to return to. loving tommy was easier than breathing - letting him go took everything you had. he only wished he could say the same.

word count: 3.8k+

pairing: tommy miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, gratuitous prose for the angst (i'm back to my roots), heartbreak, blood + wounds as an allegory for love, past relationship, arguments, tw addiction, ptsd, mutual pining, they're a bit toxic ngl, second chance romance, confessions, idiots in love.

Snow packed under your boots as you trudged forward, a rile slung over one shoulder and a pistol at your side older than you ever thought you’d get to be. Hard to believe three years ago you dug it out of a garage that might as well have belonged to a grandfather. Maybe it did—what with the records piled in disintegrating cardboard boxes, and photo albums housing reminiscent black and white photos of a time where there was no one left.

No person to tell the stories, no one to even remember them.

You supposed that was the way of things now. Memories held weight—too much of it to carry. The significance of time you’d never get back, people who you knew to be dead back in a place you tried to wipe from your memory. Alcohol helped. Pills subdued the grief, the agony of remembering. But their faces took up space in your mind, spreading like a tumor along an already weary amygdala.

“Good morning.” The pleasantry tasted false on the tip of your tongue. Lies you told yourself to appease the ache in your throat; if you ignored the pain it might go away.

Joel’s grim expression never failed to spill comfort into your chest—your own version of old reliable. “Good would be less snow on the ground.”

“Then just a plain morning,” you dryly shot back, glee itching at your heart with the peek of his grin. “Do I have watch today?”

“Not today.” He groaned with the effort of standing too quick, his knees popping subtly. A sound overshadowed by the heavy thump of his boots. “List says you’re out on a patrol nearby. Just to check for any strays that might show up with the cold weather comin’ in.”

“Sounds easy enough. Who’s the partner?” You could feel the regret echo in your stomach, pulling sharp at old wounds you never bothered to stitch up.

“Tommy.”

One day in the near future the mere echo of his name off someone else’s tongue wouldn’t violently split you open. The curve of each letter, the scribble of his own hand writing on that fucking paper beside yours, might be just another person in the long run. Hoping for it felt like a sin, yet ripping him out of your life altogether echoed with a salvation you weren’t strong enough to give yourself.

You tried not to gasp in anguish, but Joel—ever the perceptive man—caught how your face twitched. The shake of your hand, blunt and ripped fingernails buried in the calloused skin of your palm.

Memories were a bitch to hold onto; each one shining with their own brutality. His smile, the feel of lips along the column of your neck, the touch of hands gripping your thighs. He echoed with sentimental domesticity that would never be. A man who allowed his promises to fray at the end of their already thin rope, having forgotten that you were clutching the other end with sore fingers and a hoarse cry for help.

“You don’t have to go,” Joel offered.

A quick fix to an already lethal disease.

“Yes I do,” you replied, blunt and void of what you struggled to swallow down. “It’s what I was assigned. I’ll keep to that schedule.”

“I’m just sayin’ if you wanted somethin’ else-”

“When have you ever known me to run from responsibilities?” The pen held little ink left, the signature of your past scribbled and faded beside Tommy’s. “Let him know I’ll be by the stables.”

“I just…” Joel coughed, thumbing the edge of his jacket. “You should know this. Even if he’d hate me for admitting it. But Tommy requested you.”

Your brows furrowed; the little anger you held onto shuffling to the back of your mind. “Is that even allowed?”

“What can I say he’s got pull with the right people.”

“And he used it for this?”

Joel huffed, scrubbing at the side of his face. “He didn’t use it for just this darlin’. He used it for you.”

“Yeah right-”

“But you knew that already.” He saw through your false need for stability and dug into hot flesh and pulsing veins—determined to find that one singular wound which hurt the most. “I don’t need to know all of it. What my brother does is up to him, but you’re both hurt and this town is too small to pretend he doesn’t exist.”

How could you tell Joel it was easier to forget the existence of someone so hazardous to your already brittle soul? Tommy didn’t remain a man at the end of it all. He existed as the arrow already embedded in your heel, the knife that turned sharp and jagged in an already fragile heart.

No matter how you tried—burying volatile emotions in a grave that reached the core of your being—you couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.

One way or another you’d claw your way back to him, dragging along the dirt and filth to feel the warmth of his smile against your skin.

But to accept that would crack open a part of your heart you weren’t ready to confront yet. Satisfied to float in the oblivious bliss of being a heartbroken hollow shell of who Tommy once loved.

You last saw him a week ago in passing. He was engrossed in a conversation with the town’s council, the lines beneath his eyes dark and apparent, his face paler than you were used to seeing. Passing it off as the cold air—winter making itself known with the hastening snow storm—you did what you could to rip out the feelings of guilt that rose to the surface.

He wasn’t sleeping, this much you knew. Not when he once stumbled into your bed, exhausted and broken from yet another day of fixing what continued to break. He’d find his spot beside you, hands entwined in yours against the steady thump of your chest, face buried in the back of your neck. Healing always came easier when he woke up to the sight of your eyes—the curl of a sleep addled smile pressed against his chapped ones.

The papers stuffed in your coat pocket burned your skin. Familiar scrawls of a handwriting you could picture with your eyes closed, his words carved with ink to haunt you at the end of it all. He wrote three of them—one for each year he loved you.

Paragraphs of the emotions he’d never admit out loud. Pleas and apologies to forgive how he pushed you away, rambling promises that depicted a better man. Someone you could take back with open arms and a delicate heart.

The fictional idealized version of himself he longed to become.

You bundled them up wherever you went. Toying with the thin strand of twine he used to wrap the papers together. A soft touch—the thread entangled and twisted with a love you couldn’t forget.

You didn’t bother to wait for Tommy to arrive at the stables, swinging your leg up and over Comet. His black coat was a stark contrast to the first snowfall of the season. His hooves already packed with white fluff as he trotted out towards the familiar pathway through town—the sway and dip of each shift a comfort you could lose yourself in, your fingers tight around the reigns and knees tapping slightly to quicken the pace.

Tommy would catch up.

“You’re meant to have a partner before heading out.”

The frigid air burned your lungs with each breath. “I’m capable of handling myself out there.”

“Doesn’t matter Soot.”

“We’re resorting to name calling?”

Jimmy scoffed. “Last I checked I wasn’t the master of lighting fires.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The echo of hooves on the ground should have alerted you. The hair on the back of your neck rose fast enough to give you whiplash at the sound of his voice. Just a small shout of hello and yet your insides were turning over, heart squeezed with the strength of his fist as it curled around the helpless organ. He smiled at Jimmy, coming to a stop at your side—the horse’s chuffed breath forming a cloud in the air. As if offering his own greeting to the people who knew him best.

“You plannin’ on taking off without me?” he asked, finally turning his head to meet your gaze.

Eyes you looked into more times than your own burned a hole in the center of your chest. The hue of brown sparked with something dangerous. An understanding that this was more than just a patrol. This was Tommy finally pinning you down, getting you in a space where you couldn’t avoid his words.

The confrontation you never allowed to happen was down the snow covered pathway; you longed to crawl back into your house and cower beneath the covers.

“You took too long,” you snapped, clicking your tongue to kick Comet into gear.

“And waitin’ was too much work?”

He followed close behind just out of sight. A part of you felt grateful for the small convenience of taking the lead, but you could feel his stare burning a hole in the back of your head. No matter how much you tried to run from it this was bound to happen eventually.

What were you to do when your souls were bound long before tragedy struck the world? When you knew him as a younger man—his face free of lines and hair still short enough to fall along his forehead in curls.

“You’re the one who set this up. I just did my job and showed up.”

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“Like what? Patrolling? Then why did you pick it-”

“What you’re doin’!” Clicking loud enough to ricochet off the trees, he caught up to your side. “I don’t like you talkin’ to me like I’m a fuckin’ stranger.”

You sighed, leading Comet down the path lined with hoof prints. “How else am I supposed to talk to you Miller? We’re…”

“A hell of a lot more than strangers.”

“Yeah. You can say that.” Stubbornness is what kept you alive. The instinct to dig your heels in and wait it out was how you found your way to Jackson, surviving alone all those years before Tommy came across you. Half dead, buried beneath snow, and yet still the whisper of your name from his lips sent you careening back to life.

“Fuck this shit,” he muttered, flicking the reigns until you were cut off—Comet reeling back with a displeased sound you felt in the base of your throat. “Talk to me Soot. Yell at me. Call me a fuckin’ bastard for pushing you away. Curse my existence and spit at me, but please stop treatin’ me like I don’t exist.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Tommy.”

The break in his anger, the pain in his eyes, filled you with a sick satisfaction you loathed the second it entered your heart. You didn’t want to hurt him. Not like he hurt you. You were just trying to survive.

“We can walk it from here,” you said, dropping to the ground and slinging Comet’s reigns around an old post hammered into the dirt.

He followed in quick succession, matching your stride as he yanked out the gun attached to his hip—always on edge when it came to protecting you. The anger was palpable, thick enough to slice through as it hung over your shoulders like an ashen colored storm cloud waiting to drown you both. You stewed in what flared to life at the base of your stomach. The rage of a fight never had lingered, peeking its head out no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of what remained.

The love would always exist. A passion you couldn’t bring yourself to release. You knew that was why you came here today—expecting a fight with bared teeth and growled curse words that would make even Joel blush.

An inevitable explosion of all you were to one another. A ticking time bomb, counting down faster than either of you expected.

“I know what I did was fucked up,” he began, the truth flowing with ease past a mouth you dreamed of at night. “You think I wouldn’t have written those letters if I didn’t know? You deserved a better man than I ever could be, but I wanna be that man baby.”

Your teeth sunk into any part of your cheek hard enough to make you wince. “Let’s just get this over with okay?”

“No. We’re gonna have it out. Right here.”

“We’re in the middle of the woods Tommy. Stop pulling this shit would you? This isn’t the time for your games-”

“Well I wouldn’t have had to pull a move like this if you would acknowledge my damn existence in town.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The stoic expression threw him off guard, his eyes narrowing with the challenge of splitting you right down to the marrow of who he knew. Someone he longed to recognize.

He scoffed, meeting your bullheaded response with horns of his own. “You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about huh? Well forgive me Soot if I call fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Tommy-”

“You’re lying right to my face thinkin’ I won’t see it. But you forget I know you. I know you better than anyone in town ever wished they could.” Your first mistake was leading him to familiar ground—the hard headed version of you that kept him on edge twenty years ago, intent on getting what you wanted. “Better than any of those old men who practically lick their fuckin’ lips at the sight of you.”

The words struck you—caving in a small opening he pried open with his hands until blood ran down his knuckles. He was keeping tabs on you in the two months you were separated. Watching how certain men in the town nearly cheered at the knowledge you were single again. Jealousy ran deep in Tommy’s veins—a trait you learned to love and accept. But this was different.

This held an edge he no longer walked with the trepidation of a man scared to lose you.

He didn’t give a shit about the consequences when he was living them. Tommy reaped what he sowed and sunk his teeth into the end result—a flare of covetousness surging back into an older version of himself. He never liked when you had lovers in the past, always greedy for what they’d never get. Your friendship, your shining attention.

But to see it turned on himself left you gasping for breath. Lust wrapped tight and hot around the base of your spine, sparking feelings that never went away.

“You think I never saw the way they looked at you? I know what I had—what I lost. So you’re gonna stand there and talk to me. I know you probably didn’t read those letters, but that isn’t stoppin’ me from telling it to your face that I’m sorry. That I would take everything back in a heartbeat.”

“Tommy…don’t-”

“And yes I pulled every string available to get you here. Yes I’m a selfish bastard who probably doesn’t deserve your attention anymore. But I need you to hear me-”

“Shut up!”

He straightened, his jaw clamping shut at the roar of your voice echoing off the trees. His words overwhelmed you, dragged you into a place you barely escaped from a month ago. Pain laced each breath you took. But that wasn’t what had your temper flaring, bringing to life the person who fought for everything they had. Someone who learned that life didn’t offer good things unless you were willing to fight tooth and nail for it.

“What the fuck are you smiling at?” you growled, watching his lips curve into a crooked grin.

“There you are,” he murmured. “I thought I lost you.”

The fighter he knew still resided just below the surface of your cold front. The person who dragged themselves through hell to get here, seeking a place of comfort after years of torture. You did it without help. You managed without him. And yet you no longer had to, you didn’t want to; the lack of his warmth evident in how numb you felt, how your heart barely fluttered anymore.

Tommy Miller didn’t save you, but he sure as hell was determined to protect the parts you kept alive.

“I read the letters,” you hoarsely admitted, ripping the band aid off without hesitation.

“I know you did.” He sighed, his breath forming in the air and obstructing him from view. “I know why you won’t talk about ‘em.”

“That’s not it.” Sucking in a breath felt like needles puncturing the crumbling remnants of a person who deserved love. You know you did. So why couldn’t you accept it when it came crawling back? “I just… I wanted…”

His solemn nod sliced off another piece of you, dropping it to the ground without a care in the world. “To forget me.”

“You’re so…” Hot tears collided with your frozen skin, the words thick like molasses in the back of your throat. “You were everything to me Tommy. And when you gave up on what we had-”

“I didn’t give up. I’d never do that.”

“You left me!” you shouted, voice cracked and chest heaving for air that wouldn’t come. A match that refused to ignite, striking haplessly against whatever it could reach. “You walked out when all I wanted was to know this version of you. Every part.”

Stumbling towards you he reached out, brown eyes muddled by wounds he tried to hide—grief he couldn’t weigh on your shoulders. He could barely carry it on his own. You knew the man he was before kissing him, long before you dragged him into that bed and let him between your thighs. Horrors trailed after him in a red streak of what he did, the torture he caused, the deaths tainting his hands.

But you still let him touch you. With red stains and all you allowed him to grip your body like a lifeline, mouth meshed with his as tears trailed past your temples.

You loved him in spite of the darkness.

“I wrote it down for you,” he said, eyes cast to the forest—on guard in more ways than one. “I put it all in those letters. All the bad shit I’ve done, all the people I killed. I laid it all out for you to see. But if you want to forget me-”

Throwing your hands up, you no longer tried to stifle the tears—the anguish he should see play out on an already exhausted face. "I tried to burn the letters, the memories, but the fire wouldn’t take them! It’s like the universe won’t let me forget you!"

“Baby…”

Your sobs echoed off an empty forest blanketed by picturesque scenery—such an opposition for the cracking of your heart you were certain he could hear. “I couldn’t start a fire to throw them in Tommy. I couldn’t… I don’t want to forget you. Why would I? When I still love you.”

Silence filled the air, the forest taking over for the words left unsaid. You could hear an owl calling in the distance, the rustle of a rabbit in the bushes as it ripped what leaves still remained to pieces. The forest thrived in the absence of humanity. You could see how it ignored the anger, the frustration that fell a part on the floor.

The forest didn’t need you.

Not the way Tommy did.

The shock dissipated as you stood there heaving in gasping breaths, fighting back whimpering pleas for him to say something—to not let the final piece of you break and land in the snow. He surged towards you, gloved hand gripping the back of your neck to yank your face close, his still chapped lips finding your frozen ones with ease. And for the first time in two months you could breathe.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your open mouth, tongue delving into a space he longed to taste again. “Can’t fuckin’ survive without you baby.”

You didn’t bother responding, slinging an arm around his neck to drag him even closer. His kiss burned you, the match finally striking with perfect ease to light that roaring fire. Loving him came quick, overtaking who you once were in order to build someone new. Someone he could cherish and keep safe at the end of the world.

His grip dropped to your hips, pulling you close enough to feel through the layers of coats and sweaters. Later you might laugh at how careless you were so out in the open. A story told over whiskey, the tipsy relief of contentment fueling teasing words and touches that strayed far past appropriate.

Tucking his hands into your back pockets, he ran his nose along the side of your still frozen cheek—lips curled into a smile you mimicked. “I liked writin’ you those letters.”

“Yeah?” you sighed, catching his lips softly.

“Mhm.”

“Write me some more.”

He chuckled, cupping the side of your neck, thumb running along the fluttering vein. “I can do that.”

“I hope you know… I really missed you.” Breathing the words against his cheek, you felt his hold tighten—as if terrified to let you go after all that happened.

“Me too,” he whispered, pressing his face into your neck, breathing the scent of your cold skin. “It nearly killed me bein’ away from you.”

“Then stay.”

His head shot up, clear eyes catching yours. “I’m never leavin’ you again honey. Till the day I fuckin’ die I’ll be by your side.”

Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks, eyes shining with unshed tears. “That might be sooner than later if we’re out here any longer.”

That familiar bright smile brought back the feeling in your chest—heart fluttering in time with his. “Then let’s head home yeah?”

Home. A word uttered in the darkness of long days and weary limbs begging for reprieve in the comfort of a squeaky old mattress. It sounded jarring coming from him with ease. As if he’d been longing for your shared space, where love could flourish and a future solidified with each day spent within the walls of an old house.

The space had seen people before you, it might see others after you, but for this brief time on this planet it was yours.

“Okay,” you replied softly, reverence dripping from the word. “Let’s go home.”

[mimicha-arts]

LC - YINGDU EP1 SPOILERS, TW - blood, death scenes

Yeah I logged in just for LC to sum up things in my DMs with Forest (love u), mostly about dives.

Still have too many ideas about how mechanics actually work, as well as abilities transmigration, so I'll focus on differences of dives and some things from previous seasons.

Scene with Vein.

In my understanding, the opening scene already includes 2 different developments of events.

1, where CXS, after being wounded, was led by LG into the room, while Vein went to pick up the gun. We see bloody footprints, traces on the table, but that's all.

2, where Vein is already standing at the closed door, clearly shows other events - a chair, other objects scattered on the floor, according to the blood prints, the body seemed to have been dragged + there are no prints on the tabletop.

What is also interesting is that the background is slightly different in both scenes, if you pay attention to the shelves on the left.

There is a difference in the photos too - the first version shows only a crack, the second - a broken glass.

For me, the conclusion is that already here we see 2 different timelines.

Lu Guang's injury

In the first option, although Vein shoots at the door, he misses (time ~ 23:11), Lu Guang closes the door and is not injured

So , missing scene

We don't know what happened for about an hour. In the second version (cause it has stains on the floor, overturned things), the blood on the photo already speaks of the not shown scene. I doubt that Vein simply changed his mind and left, so Lu Guang had to "deal with" him.

At this point, he himself is deeply wounded, but the most important thing is that in these shots we are shown his yellow eyes - this is already a dive in a dive, some kind of repetition of the events.

s2ep12

At the same time, this drive is different from the drive that was shown in the second season.

The blood pattern on his clothes is similar, but even if we exclude the fact that he doesn't look out of breath/in pain, there are other details.

- blood stains on his face - furnishings, of objects on the table - blood on hands (by the way, in the scene with Vein, when he raised his hands in front of him, both of his hands were covered in blood)

Lu Guang's watch

For us as viewers, the watch on his right hand is a familiar part of the design, he wears it on his right hand in both s1 and s2

So, after diving, the first thing he tries to do is check the time, and looks at his right hand.

We still don't know the origin of his watch, since he didn't wear them in almost all the flashbacks. Except for the new one, where the watch is on his left hand.

Thus, Yingdu gives us a new diving point - April 12th (in addition to the dives on September 13).

Maybe the time of this dive will correlate with the time indicated in s2 (but with which there were no associated events)

Except for the poster, the watch on Lu Guang's left hand appeared in the flashback of CXS's death in s2, which probably separates this variant of his death from the ones shown in the scene with Vein, and perhaps the difference can give us insight into the timeline's chronologies later on.

September and April

To be honest, this whole thing makes me very excited, because of the existence of the old theory about the broken time in April and September - I wrote about it in detail a year ago in that post

Emma, April-September and chronology

For me, this means that circumstances of the case, who the unknown victim was, although they have faded into the background now, will still be a key.

Pretty sure this has all been discussed, but thanks for reading. Let's all… have fun with the new season ~