#i talk a lot about sandwiches in this one

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[bam-stroker]

I got possessed by the opportunity for silly in @keferon's Texaid mech au and ended up with a slice of serious as well. Oh well, Bone Apple Teeth! - - - - -

Every muscle and joint in First Aid’s body aches. Flopped over the official break room lunch table, his face has been buried in his arms for at least twenty minutes. He’d taken one tired bite from a sad little sandwich at the start of his break, and now it’s just wilting beside him before he officially decides to just trash it. To be honest, he can’t find the energy to actually care. After months of cleaning up the messes left behind by that thing, lunch has become a “me time” escape for him as opposed to an actual meal. 

Well, to an extent. It can only be so much of a solo time with the cross over of employee lunch breaks. 

“You know, it’s not good to skip a meal when you work as hard as you do.” 

The sentiment is entirely sincere. Even face down, he can see the exact sad little face across from him. Those familiar blue eyes always twinkling with feeling. First Aid only grunts in acknowledgement. Why does Tailgate always have to be so… caring? He thinks to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of harsh laughter echoes at his thought. But it’s mechanical. As if that… machine is now a part of him. Haunting him. Or maybe it’s like a disease? But he can’t think of any illness where something like that can listen and watch to see the world through his eyes. Haunting it is then.

Whatever. He’ll take more time to care about that when he’s able to lift his head back up. Below his breath First Aid mutters, “I bet you like that, huh? Wearing me out. Must be so funny.” 

The voice in his head has nothing to say. 

First Aid huffs. Jerk.

Tailgate on the other hand, continues to pry. “So… Were you talking to him just then?”

Great. He’s saying shit out loud. Stellar! Amazing! This is going to do great things for his crumbling people skills. First Aid musters up that one sandwich bite’s worth of energy left in him to sit up. The popping of his joints should be concerning, but on the priorities list—stepping into a death trap daily as a new career—it’s hardly the top of it. 

“Look, Tailgate, I’m sorry. Yeah… I was talking to—” he starts to reply, and then cocks his head in confusion. “Wait, did you just say ‘him’?”

And there goes the old Tailgate big wet eyes shine. He nods his round little pale face, the short crop of his bleached white hair bouncing with the movement. “Well, yeah! Vortex is the one haunting it, right?” 

First Aid can’t help but sigh, slumping back into the uncomfortable break room chair. “Come on,” he replies. “Don’t tell me you’re another ghost believer?” 

He tries to keep the shake out of his voice. He tries to keep up the act, because if he admits it… if he admits it then it all becomes real.

Tailgate nods, giving a thoughtful hum as he eyes the sandwich waiting patiently to be eaten. “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand. But, it feels easier to talk about it like that,” he says. Looking back up to lock eyes with First Aid, there’s a weight behind his gaze. “You’re not the only one cleaning up the messes around here. So let me be a little superstitious to help me get through the job.”

With a heavy sigh, First Aid breaks the eye contact. It’s too much. 

He crosses his arms, staving off a shiver from the memory of the first time he ever cleaned up the mech. Of the look on Tailgate’s face, so scared, when he’d handed him the remnants. 

The janitor and the wannabe medic. What a sad sorry pair.

All First Aid can offer is a nod of his head in acknowledgement, before he changes the subject. “So yeah, I’ve been talking to…him. It’s about all I can do, since he’s the one, ugh, actually driving.” 

Tailgate gasps loudly, as he leans forward. “It’s like reverse Ratatouille!”

“What??” 

“He’s the rat, and you’re the chef.” Tailgate continues, an entirely too excited smile on his face. 

“No!”

“Yes!!” 

First Aid groans, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “Tailgate. Please. How is this anything like ratatouille?” He pleads.

Between the cracks of his fingers, he watches Tailgate gleefully lay out his vision. “Everybody thinks it’s you—but it’s really him driving. So you’re like the chef, but instead of being on the outside, you’re on the inside—that’s why it’s reverse—because the rat is in the hat driving the guy like some kind of chef mech suit in the movie. But the ghost mech is driving you. So you’re reverse ratatouille!”

There are no words. There’s absolutely nothing he can say in response to the nightmare of his new life being summed up as accurately as “reverse ratatouille”. 

With a weary sigh, First Aid leans forward on the table, staring down as if some other answer to what his life has become will appear like a magic eight ball in the scratched up countertop. 

No such luck. It’s the same table he’s looked at day after day. 

“Reverse Ratatouille…” First Aid murmurs. A haunted look in his eyes.

“Reverse Ratatouille.” Tailgate chimes back chipperly.

Far off in the haunted abyss of his mind, First Aid hears the crystal clear laughter of the mech at the revelation. 

Reverse Ratatouille.

[barcaatthemoon]

drives me crazy || laia codina x reader ||

Laia trusts you, but that doesn't stop her from getting jealous.

18+

"I need a night out." You never could have imagined where that one sentence would take you. A bye week for Arsenal meant that when the weekend rolled around, some of the girls were more than happy to go out for the night with you. Somehow, Laia had managed to talk friends from other teams into going as well, and that was how you ended up sandwiched between two Spanish women who were definitely not your girlfriend.

You had known Leila for long enough to know the woman was handsy. You came to Arsenal from Manchester City, transferring after the Spanish woman's first season. The two of you were friends, so you didn't bat an eyelash at the way that her hands gripped your hips.

Laia Alexandri seemed to just follow Leila's lead when it came to dancing with you. Both women were getting a bit handsy with you, but you reminded yourself that they were naturally much more affectionate. You remembered the way that your own girlfriend had been early on your relationship. These two were even more naturally friendly and affectionate than your girlfriend seemed to be, so you were kind of letting a lot slide.

Your girlfriend, however, simply put, was not. Laia had been getting a couple of drinks at the bar, one for herself and one for you, when she looked over to see Leila tilt your head back. She had noticed you sandwiched between the two women earlier in the night, but now it genuinely looked like Leila was making a move on you. You seemed oblivious, and Laia had to remind herself that you weren't letting them do that because you were interested.

"No intervenga!" Laia shouted over the music. You felt yourself getting pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see Laia staring at Leila with murderous intent. Laia pushed you behind her towards the bar to collect the drinks while she pulled Leila off to the side. You watched them argue, knowing damn well both women were speaking Spanish too quickly for you to understand it if you had been close by.

"She does not look happy mate," Katie commented as she watched the exchange.

"I don't know if I should go over there." You were biting your lip, slightly worried that one of them would cause a scene. "What do you think?"

"I think that if Caitlin had let two other women touch her like that, we wouldn't be speaking for a while," Katie said. You suddenly got much more afraid of the situation. Laia and Leila parted ways, Leila going right back to the dance floor and finding herself someone else to dance with. Your girlfriend briefly stopped by the bar to grab you on her way out, not saying a word until the two of you were nearly halfway to the car.

"Laia, babe, I'm sorry," you apologized. Laia glanced back at you, but only briefly. "Laia, please talk to me."

"Are you doing that on purpose?" Laia asked you. You tilted your head at her, puzzled by her question. You hadn't done anything intently, things just got a little out of hand with Leila.

"No, I'd never knowingly put myself in a situation like that. I mean it, I'm sorry about the thing with Leila. I shouldn't have let her get that handsy with me." Laia put her hand up to stop you from rambling. She placed her hands around your waist, tugging you flush against her.

"You drive me crazy sometimes," Laia whispered, as if she was afraid of anybody else hearing her words. Her gaze was fixed on your lips, but she didn't kiss you. Laia only walked with her arm around your waist for the rest of the way. She was still a perfect gentlewoman, opening your door and shutting it for you before she made her way around to the passenger's side.

Laia didn't let anything take her attention away from you. She acted as if you'd cease to exist the moment that she did. Still, Laia waited until the two of you were safely inside of her apartment to do anything.

You shouldn't have been surprised, but you were caught off guard by Laia pressing you up against the door. Her hands made quick work of undressing you, only breaking the absolutely bruising kiss to toss your clothes away. Laia backed away only when you were naked, leaving you to feel a tiny bit exposed with Laia still completely dressed in front of you.

"I should never let you out of my sight. If I had my way, we'd never leave the bedroom," Laia told you. She grabbed you by the hand and walked you over to the couch. Laia sat down first, making herself comfortable before she pulled you onto her lap.

You landed with your knees on both sides of her lap. Laia kept you raised slightly as she ducked her head down to bury her face in between your breasts. You could feel her pressing kisses to the skin there, going back and forth between your breasts as her fingers came up to tweak and tease your nipples.

"Laia," you whined, hips canting forward, but not enough for any friction. Laia seemed to like the sound of you whining for her, so she pinched a little harder. You tried once again to seek out friction, only to come up with nothing. "Laia, please."

"Keep saying my name, I love to hear it. I don't ever want to hear anybody else's name. Only mine, just us," Laia told you. She didn't tease you for much longer. Her hands fell from your breasts and trailed down your sides until they met between your legs. It wasn't exactly what you wanted, but you could grind against the palm of Laia's hand now. "Tell me how much you want me, and I'll give you everything you want."

"Laia, please. I need you so fucking bad," you told her. Laia made you repeat yourself again andd again, just barely giving you more each time you asked. You felt like you were on the verge of crying before you finally felt her push two fingers inside of you.

"You're making such a mess on my lap. I can feel you dripping onto me," Laia said. You believed her, not having felt wet like this in weeks. Laia wasn't normally one to tease, but tonight, she was putting you through it. You knew that it was a punishment for letting her Spanish teammates touch you like that.

You knew that every moment you had to wait while Laia's fingers moved so close to where you wanted them was your fault. It gave you a bit of a rush, being punished like this, but you also hated it. You hated whining and feeling needy like this because you weren't used to it. Laia had never really driven you crazy like this, but you could see that she loved it.

"Cum for me, I can feel that pretty little pussy of yours trying so hard. You don't have to hold back. Stop thinking and just cum, that's all I want. Am I not good enough for you anymore? Do you need Leila for that now?" You didn't want to cum while Laia questioned you about Leila, but that was just how it went. Every rational thought flew from your head as Laia's thumb pressed against your clit. The pressure from that had you spilling out into the palm of her hand. "You're such a fucking dirty girl, but nobody is ever going to know it. That's a secret for me and you."

"Fuck Laia," you swore as you fell against her body. Laia wrapped her arms around you, holding you in a tight embrace. "Only us, just you and me."

[pullthehilt]

Reader is Yuu with an implied family with siblings. Not re-read or edited.

One day you realise that there is just a bit too much food on the table. It takes eating with the others to truly notice, but it starts with Grim complaining.

"We've been eating the same thing for days now!" And you laugh because it's true. After eating it fresh the first day, you tend to pack up and store the rest equally in the fridge and freezer because, yes, it's a lot. Dishes that are soups, or meals that are cooked in the larger pots and pans. Food that is to be served with rice on the side, portions that are bigger than your face. That isn't to say that you had a lot of thaumarks on you as you're just good at making bulk purchases worth it.

Everyone laughs at Grims moping, remarking of how he should be greatful you're feeding him at all. The banter is great.

But you're picking at your packed lunch now.

Why do you cook so much? Why do you reach for the bigger pots and pans? Why are your portions always for more than one?

From the fog of your mind, you see... your kitchen. Or you think it's your kitchen. It's not the kitchen back at Ramshackle, but the one from before Ramshackle. You're bustling around the counter, chatting to a faceless figure by the table, and reaching for seasonings without even looking. You're opening cabinets and finding what you need easily and asking the figure to make some rice to accompany whatever is in that pot. There's the squeals of children and hearty laughter from the other room. And hands, there's a hand at the small of your back and you think it's a motherly touch because how else can you describe the gentle way they press you to the side of their body.

For the next few days you can't eat properly. There's weight at your gut that substitutes for food and you don't make anything more. When your friends come over to invade the living room of Ramshackle, you don't have much snacks to offer them.

Peering into the fridge only reveals the stacks of containers of food you were eating days prior. You're mulling about maybe something you can make for them when,

"Whoa, talk about excess. Grim wasn't kidding." Ace's voice is right behind you.

"Ugh, sorry guys. i don't think I have anything proper to really feed you guys--"

"Is that some sort of egg salad?" Deuce's hand slithers forward to grab at one of the containters. "You have bread?" Nodding you gesture to the other cabinet. "Then I'll snack on this-- Er, if you wouldn't mind."

Epel peers from the doorway. "You don't happen to haf' some meat in 'er do ya?" Your fingers linger, before meekly pulling out a corrisponding tupperware.

"It's a bit stiff though, Epel."

"Hah, I'll jus' throw it on tha' stove or somthing. If it's still tough, I dun' care. Sometimes just gotta eat the greasy foods." He takes the tupperware and slaps it into a pan to heat it up. The aroma of sizzling meat is quick to attract both Sebek and Jack who add to the noise of chatter amongst the others, the former mostly.

You find yourself to the side, watching as they scour through your leftovers, opening and nodding at the meals inside before choosing which to heat up. And it's loud, but not grating. They're navigating through your space with expertice, slipping past each other and peering into cabinets. Jack's making rice and Sebek is counting the plates (whilst also making sounds whenever he sees a chip in the odd one or two). Over the stove Epel and Ace are jerking their hands into the pan, nipping their fingers to the corner pieces of the meat to just 'check if it's ready to eat'. Gathering the spoons and forks, Deuce nibbles on a piece of his egg salad sandwich before disappearing in the living area where everyone is setting up.

The dinner table has been set. You don't feel entirely there, floating to a cushion on the floor as your left overs are bought over to the table plate-by-plate. Everyone sits around you, Grim settled into your lap as he nibbles on a piece of fried fish, and they're passing the dishes around.

You've eaten these things before but you've always eaten them with Grim or alone when Grim takes his naps early. Instead of one set of cutlery scraping at porcelain, there's multiple sets-- a symphony playing to their hunger as they gather more to pile onto their plates.

[thisismeracing]

Can you please do Mick dating Raikkönen!reader hsc, please?

sure <3 hope u like it, nonny!

Requests are now CLOSED.

MICK DATING A RAIKKÖNEN!READER | MS47

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

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Raikkönen!reader just like her father is not in for silly jokes or small talk. She’s direct. If she doesn’t like you she’ll tell it to your face. The opposite is true as well - that’s how she told Mick she liked him after they hung out for a few months;

“I like you.” Short, simple, and direct. So direct that Mick wasn't sure if she meant she liked LIKED him or if she was being friendly, but since the latter was unlikely, he gathered up his courage and asked her on a date;

Though Michael and Mikki raced together, and Mick pretty much grew up inside the racing scene, the same was not reality for Yn. She did like racing, but when she was a kid Mikki and her mother chose to prioritize her privacy and her studies, that's how she wasn't friends with Mick. But once they met, it was a perfect match. Mick was shy at first, so that made him silent, and Yn just wasn't interested in talking. The silence was comfortable, though, and she saw herself walking near the bench he was sitting on and sharing a piece of her granola bar with him. Her dad had seen the friendship unfold, and he nicknamed them 'birds' because they would feed each other silently and then leave only to come up the next weekend with a sandwich, a granola bar, a candy, share in silence, and then leave again;

When Mick finally asked Yn on a date she told her dad and though he used to make fun he ended up feeling jealous - he even suggested that he could go too as if it was a friend meeting, not a date. Yn laughed at the situation, something she didn't do all the time, which made it even more special to those around her;

She sent Mikki a picture after the date. Their faces squished together on the screen of the phone. He could see Mick's arms around her shoulders, but her smile was so bright he couldn't help but feel happy for them;

He has dinner with the Schumachers the next month, minus Mick, of course. And they talk about the likelihood of their relationship becoming serious. They end up choosing to support them, Mikki being pretty sure that Yn wouldn't back down if he told her to, and the same with Mick;

Now, Mikki is a bit unsure of everything at first. He did see Mick grow up. He was friends with his family. But still, it was Yn! His little girl. That doubt went away a few months after they announced the seriousness of their relationship. Older Mick was a fun guy, nothing like the babbling kid nor the grumpy teenager he used to be. So the Schumacher and the older Raikkönen ended up realizing they had a lot in common;

After that, it's always "Where's Mick, Yn? Is Mick coming to the family vacation? Are the Schumis spending Christmas with us? Did you give him the book I handed you?" it's funny even;

Mick calls Yn by Raikki a short for her surname. Sometimes he calls her Rai or even Kiki, she hates the latter, though;

I feel like they would be super private. So much that it took almost a year or so for people to pierce the pieces together;

But being private didn't mean they weren't in love. That they were and the garage they attended quickly picked up from the way Mick would smile at her or how she would laugh around him;

Just black cat and golden retriever vibes, but Mick showed Yn her golden side too (the opposite too because Mick started to stand up for himself a tad more);

You know those couples where at least one has to be the person to tell the waiter they got the order wrong? Now imagine Yn is the one who does it while Mick is there like "I wouldn't mind eating raw meet :(" and Yn is like "I want another dish and I want dessert on the house," super serious while Mick is giving an apologetic look to the employee;

Yeah. hihi

[unhingedangstaddict]

Because the weather is absolute garbage (well below freezing temperatures and snowing) and I'm feeling kinda unmotivated atm here's a small teaser for the next chapter of All Of You, All Of Me (Intertwined) - my bucktommy mpreg fic

The next morning Tommy walked to the coffee shop and arrived early, only to find Evan had also just arrived. “Hey.” He said as he approached Evan.

“Hey, why don’t I grab us drinks while you find us a table?” Evan suggested.

“Sure.” Tommy agreed.

“What do you want? Not that I forgot your usual order but you probably can’t have your usual because the caffeine…” Evan frowned. “Not that I’m trying to police what you eat or drink!” He added quickly.

Tommy had to chuckle a bit at how nervous Evan was. For a moment it could almost be Evan’s regular old nervous excitement and not the new much more complex nervousness that Tommy had instilled in Evan yesterday with just just five words. “You’re fine. Get me a decaf mocha with raspberry syrup-” Tommy could see Evan’s face twisting into one of confusion or perhaps disgust. “It’s what she wants. I’m not exactly a fan but it does taste good.” Tommy explained, gesturing vaguely at his stomach.

“Got it. Coming right up.” Evan nodded and went to order.

Tommy got them a table in a quiet corner of the coffee shop and waited patiently for Evan, who soon came over to the table with their drinks in hand.

“Have you uh, have you had a lot of cravings?” Evan asked as he set Tommy’s drink in front of him, then sat across from Tommy.

“Yeah. This drink is one of two consistent repeat offenders and there’s been lots of one time cravings for different things too.” Tommy nodded. Tommy knew they should be talking about more important things but Evan was nervous and it was probably less nerve-wracking for him if they eased into it, and maybe it’d be easier for Tommy too.

“What’s the other consistent one?” Evan wondered.

“Lucy makes fake gagging noises every time it comes up,” Tommy admitted. “Grilled cheese with peanut butter and tomatoes on it. Usually needs to be on sourdough bread, cinnamon-raisin bread on one particularly notable occasion though.”

“Like all together in the sandwich heated up?” Evan wondered.

Tommy nodded and shrugged. “It's what the kid wants. Can’t wait til she decides she’s sick of them.”

“No kidding.” Evan mumbled and sipped his drink.

“Look, I’m sure you have things you want to say and ask, and so do I. There’s a lot up in the air at the moment and I just want to make something super clear before we get any further.” Tommy told Evan.

“Okay,” Evan sat up straighter and made sure he was showing that he was paying attention.

“I know I told Lucy, to tell Eddie, to tell you this, but I wanted you to hear it from me directly also. If you don’t want to be involved, I don’t expect you to. The last thing I want is for you to feel trapped by this in any way. So, if you’re not interested you can walk away now, no hard feelings. I can’t promise she’ll never get curious or grow up and find you herself, but if you don’t want to be a part of this, I will keep you out of it as much as I can.”

“Tommy I want to be involved-” Evan started.

“And if that is genuinely what you want Evan, then great.” Tommy cut in. “But if you think there is even the smallest chance you’re gonna wake up one day and regret staying, just walk away now. It’s one thing for us to break each other’s hearts, it’d be another to do that to our daughter.”

“I know I just found out but I swear I’m not going anywhere. I- I’ve been a sperm donor before- I told you about Connor and Cameron’s son- and I’m not interested in doing that again, Tommy. I want to be a part of my daughter’s life.” Evan insisted.

Tommy nodded and almost smiled. “Okay.”

(Read the full chapter on ao3)

[lover-of-skellies]

About to riot

I want doordash burger king. Which is maybe close to $11. I have less than a dollar in my bank account. Gdi

Is this the part where I'm petty and eat all the bread in the cupboard? Maybe. Who knows

[sadaveniren]

.

[big-city-times]

various villain schooler headcanons as well as a random pb&wham shitpost

[e77y]

Glad I’m starting therapy so soon after moving out ☝️ I am already feeling the helplessness and loneliness

[peapod20001]

The oc thoughts in my brain... immense

[non-un-topo]

No one talks about this so here's a small reminder to keep your eyes on your own plate. If a skinny person is refusing food, it does not necessarily mean a) they have a restrictive eating disorder or b) they are calling you fat. Mind your business.

[espytalks]

didn't know jelly could mold, but here i am, eating a sandwich with a different (inferior) non-grape jam-like product cause apparently it can go bad.

[wkiwf]

cleaned my bathroom. offloaded my photos off my camera. posted said photos. did laundry. made lunch (+ dinner). got annoyed by a fruit fly that would not stop harassing me in my bedroom. hung out. chilled. hung up the postcards and posters i got in chicago. my day of rest and relaxation.

[iwakuraz]

theres a new spider in my room so I decided to give him a name. he is called Sandwiches Time and he is named after that one kind of shitty weezer song

[autumnoakes]

the people in my life who think everyone should eat healthy and that any """junk""" food is disgusting, not worth eating, will destroy your body everytime you even look at it, etc. vs me who just wants food i'll eat honestly