#i would cook a breakfast item then a lunch item then a dinner item so that the whole day of food things would be fulfilled

[shalom-iamcominghome]

For somebody who was a Cooking Mama addict, I sure don't make for a very good cook 💀💀

I'm following a challah recipe and I'm letting her rest until I'm back from work and the gym but 👁️👁️

If it's even half (or a third!) as good as the challah that we have at shul I'm going to be happy

[bvidzsoo]

♡ ATEEZ as dads ♡

author: bvidzsoo

pairing: ot8 x reader

tw: none

word count: 3.3k

genre: established relationships, parents, blurbs/scenarios

rating: sfw

summary: have you ever tried envisioning Ateez as fathers? well, this is my take on the subject ^^ a collective of short and cute drabbles bellow the cut

a/n: hello, my lovelies, this was a cute little request and despite not taking requests (just wanted to clear that up), today is my birthday and I decided to make this my little gift for you all! ^^ also, anonie, I hope this is satisfying and close to how you imagined it to be! divider

🐿️Hongjoong

☆ Okay, so, despite all the boomer vibes I get from Hongjoong he'd still be the coolest dad, like?! All of your kid's friends would love him because he's just the type of father that not only shows up for his child but also like partakes in like absolutely everything?! Oh, you have an event at school where you have to bring one parent? Yup, Hongjoong is going (dressed to the nines, might I add, while also wearing something matching with his kid) and he's also going to be cheering you on loudly from the sidelines (to the point the other parents will be side-eyeing him, but that's fine, he doesn't care). And like, he's also the type of dad to sneak inside his kid's room when it's completely dark and then scare the living shit out of them as he starts making monster-like sounds, the kid is terrified okay, but soon they are giggling and wrestling, and the child will go to sleep rather fast because Hongjoong managed to wear them out. But Hongjoong is also the type of father who wants to capture everything so he always has his camera with him and he takes a lot of pictures, okay, and he also makes albums at the end of each year because his kid is growing and he doesn't want to miss even a second (are you sobbing? I would be if I had a dad like him).

☆ And Hongjoong is also the type of father to plan trips mostly in nature, where you can go on a hike and just forget about the ruckus in the city, where you can connect with nature and just be in the moment. He would definitely pick a colour scheme or one clothing item that would be matching for all the family members because it's cute and because he's infinitely proud and eager to show off his kid(s) and wife. He cracks jokes (even if they are your typical dad jokes), and he makes sure his kid(s) feel seen and heard. He tries not to pressure them and lets them explore the world while remaining a guide they can always rely on.

🐰Seonghwa

♡ Yup, trust this man to get up before his wife and child to make them breakfast and something to pack for later when they get hungry, he's that type of guy, yeah. We know he's soft-spoken, and I see him as the type of dad who is very patient with his kid(s) and who pays a lot of attention to them to make sure he truly understands them. I feel like Seonghwa would organize "chill nights" where you all cosy up on the couch and pick a movie (which is age-appropriate, obviously) and he lets you eat excessive popcorn because he knows his wife isn't keen on their kid(s) eating junk food.

♡ Also, I get the feeling that holidays would be big at the Park residence. Like, he'd make sure everything is perfect because he'd be also organizing big ass get-togethers where both sides of the family are coming over for lunch or dinner. And I think he'd also love Christmas because he could spoil his family without getting complaints or reprimands, so yeah, he'd make a big deal out of it each.time. He'd help cook and bake and clean, he'd probably do more of that, and he'd disappear for hours because he was looking for the perfect gifts (and trust that each person will get at least three items if not more). I also think Seonghwa would check on his kid(s) anytime he wakes up in the middle of the night, and he'd certainly tuck them in each time, pressing a kiss to their forehead(s). He'd be very gentle and soft and the kid(s) would grow up in a safe space where they'd know they can freely speak and express their likes and dislikes because their parents will be supportive no matter what.

🐶Yunho

❀ This man is a giant, we know that too well, so honestly, piggybacks and him letting his kid(s) sit on his shoulders while they are out and about would be routine at this point. Like, even if his kid wouldn't ask to be carried, Yunho would be sweeping them off their feet and letting them do whatever as he carried them around. I feel like he'd also quite often get cute aggression, so he'd definitely be tackling them (in a gentle and non-endangering way) to press a dozen kisses against their cheeks, and I think he'd also love tickling them because of their cute laughter! (I'm struggling rn, who's getting cute aggression now??) Anyways, I have a feeling that if his kid(s) somehow manages to hurt themselves (like they fall and scrape their knees or hands) Yunho would rush to their side and hold them and sweet talk to them with a pout on his lips and sad eyes, trying to lighten their mood while he tells them that everything will be okay.

❀ I feel like Yunho is the type to get emotional over, perhaps, non-trivial things that concern his kids. Their tooth fell out and the Toothfairy is coming? Yup, a tear is rolling down his cheek because "Omg, the kid is getting bigger!", also you know that thing where they make you stand against the wall (or edge of the door) to measure your height while you're still growing? Yeah, I feel like Yunho would have to take a walk around the house after measuring his kid's height in order to will the tears away because the kid is two centimetres taller than he was a month ago and he “can't do this, why are they growing so quickly?!” Yunho is definitely the type of father who wakes up his kid(s) in the morning by brushing their hair aside and whispering to them softly, coaxing them out of their sleep. He'd also be always smiling, his kid(s) wouldn't know what Yunho's serious face looks like because he'd never looked at them like that. He'd be cracking jokes and making his kid(s) laugh, but he'd also listen to them if they came to him for advice, and I feel like he's great at reading people's moods, so he'd know when to offer them space or annoy them until the kid(s) get fed up with him and give in to him wanting to kick a ball or something.

🦄Yeosang

 🜲 Well, let's be honest, with a dad like Yeosang, I feel like the kid(s) would be considered a little peculiar? But like in a very positive sense of the word because have you seen Yeosang's humour? Immaculate, dare I say, and his kid(s) have definitely inherited that from their dad. I feel like Yeosang is generally a calm and quiet person, but when it comes to his kid(s) he gets like hyper because he wants to do everything they ask him to, and he'll talk and talk until his kid(s) are pressing their tiny hands against his mouth to make him shut up. I think Yeosang would love to listen to his kid(s) stories, like "Yes, tell me all about your mate from kindergarten and his rescued grasshopper and also, what do you mean you ate a spider, child?! Spiders are not for eating!!" Yeah, I feel like Yeosang would forget his kid(s) at daycare at least once or twice (only at the beginning, I promise, like my dad forgot me there once: TMI). So what I was saying is, that because Yeosang loves hearing his kid(s)' stories, he will be reacting with grand gestures and everything and it will only amuse his child, because they'd get even more excited to tell him more about his day.

 🜲 Also, I feel like while his kid is a baby and can't speak, he'd blabber back to them and constantly poke their tummy "Because babies are so cute, I think I'm going to combust", and he'd definitely rush up to his wife with the baby in his arms to show off that they have reached new levels of communication, and it'd surprise his wife because the two are now blabbering to each other and the baby is laughing and Yeosang is grinning so wide his cheeks are hurting. I think Yeosang would love to take the baby out on walks as the sun is setting (assuming they are in Seoul) and watch the sunset as the sun disappears behind the Han River, and he'd definitely snap pictures with the baby where his face isn't fully showing just so that he can post it, and then he'd take selfies and send them to the family's group chat. I think Yeosang would be the type of father who never shuts up about their kid (even to his own parents) and tries to be the best father, super supportive and, not going to lie, he'd probably spoil them too because he wants to give them everything they want and need. He'd be always there for them, even if just from the sidelines, and if there were a contest for proudest father of the year, Yeosang would surely win it!

🐱San

❀ The most important question here is, who's the baby? Okay, I'm joking but San would definitely sleep facing the baby, eyes watery because he still cannot believe that's his child and that child is going to grow up by his side and he's created a tiny life that will turn into a grown person one day and he cannot stop it just go with the flow. So yes, San would be the emotional type of father, but not to the extent that it becomes uncomfortable lol. He has strong principals/morals so he'll definitely teach his child the views he has of the world and life itself, but he'd make sure to leave space for his kid(s)' own opinions and views, so that they can create their own believes while taking an example out of their father. We all know San's background, so I think he'd definitely sign up his kid(s) to Taekwondo or another similar sport, mostly because he wants them to know how to defend themselves, but also because it teaches them discipline.

❀ San's kid(s)' will be the politest and most well-behaved you'll ever see, I think they'd rarely cry and stick close to their parents because they know they are safe and comforting. San would have a close and good bond with his kid(s), he'd take them places and let them explore the world. Given that San loves amusement parks so much, I'm sure he'd make it a weekly program to take them there, trying out rides that were appropriate for their ages, laughing all day and eating whatever their tummies (and hearts) desired. I think San would only give his kid(s)' the best, so yes, they'll go to the best school, they'll only wear the best clothes, and they'll only eat healthy food (with exceptions, ofc, he's no tyrant to deny a good hamburger and fries), but he wouldn't spoil his kid(s) to the point they become brats. Also, I feel like San would love it if his children would be on good terms with his best friend's kids, so yup, expect a lot of get-togethers and trips with the two/three (or eight lmao) families, which would be a hustle to every outsider lol. So, all in all, San would be strict but so very loving, he'd do his best to raise his kids well-mannered and humble (just like him bfr) and he'd make sure that he was a strong pillar they could always lean on and count on. (why am I getting emotional too...?)

🐣Mingi

 🜲 *sigh*, where do I begin??? Bickering, lots of it, because "What do you mean you don't like mashed potatoes but you'll eat french fries?!!! They are the same, child, just eat it and stop whining!!" oh, and also, "What do you mean you want to go party, it's 11 pm and you're only seventeen?!" (if you've seen 10 Things I Hate About You, just picture the girls' dad when he makes Bianca wear that pregnancy vest before going out LMAO). So, yes, lots of nagging too, I guess, but it's actually well-intended and oh so loving!! Everyone thinks Mingi is intimidating (bfr besties) and I think his kid(s)' friends would be intimidated at first sight, but then Mingi invites them inside and goes to the kitchen to fetch them some snacks, and he accidentally knocks into the chair or table and he swears loudly and the kids start giggling because swearing is an adult thing still and it's funny, and then Mingi appears in the doorway and he's scowling, but he flushes when he realizes the kids heard him, so he tries to play it off but really, he looks like a clown so his child's friends instantly take a liking to him!

 🜲 You can't contradict me on this, but I feel like if his kid started crying over something, Mingi would stare at them blankly before starting to (fake) cry too and this often leads to 2 outcomes: 1. the kid stops crying and looks at him like Mingi's crazy (judgingly) & 2. the kid starts crying harder because they know Mingi is making fun of them, and it makes Mingi panic, so now he's cradling them to his chest and trying to shush them and calm them down, because "If the wife hears, we're both dead kid, got it???" I think Mingi would be his kid's best friend before being their father, if you get what I mean? Like, sure, he'll scold them and put them in their place if needed, but he'll totally gossip with them and bring them a sandwich just so he can lounge around in their room (because Mingi won't admit it, but the kid is getting bigger and he feels like he's running out of time and that's terrifying), and he'll tell them things that perhaps should've been better if he kept it to himself. I think he'd always be in front of his kid(s)' school (no matter the age) after classes to pick them up, and he'd definitely do carpool karaoke on their way home, only running one red light (excuse the man, he's excited or something). So yeah, Mingi would be caring and careful with his kid(s), attentive and there for them, but he'd show them that just because he's their father it doesn't mean they aren't equal (most of the time), and they don't have to hide anything from him, really. (Just maybe the fact that they didn't come home last night at the agreed-upon hour, oops~)

🦊Wooyoung

♡ Loud, both of them, loud. But it's fine, because if they are loud at least the wife knows they are enjoying themselves. Because when it becomes quiet, that's when you just know they are up to no good. Like that one time when you were working from home and their giggling and screeching stopped, prompting you to check up on them, only to find your kid(s)' hair drenched in some neon-pink colour which is, ofc, washable, your makeup strewn all over the floor because Wooyoung was feeling funny and decided to paint their faces (it looked terrible, but you said nothing). Also, menaces, both of them, to the point they'd wear matching Halloween costumes and freak out the whole street as they'd randomly start chasing both children and adults (they are either dressed as Chucky or Ghostface, there's no in-between). All of that put together, however, Wooyoung would be always by his kid(s)' side if he could, and he'd be teaching them everything about the world. He'd read to them a lot and he'd watch a lot of History and National Geography with them lol.

♡ And yes, we know Wooyoung is a very affectionate person and that he likes to show his love physically, so there would be a lot of kisses, cuddles, hugs and tickles. Wooyoung would love to carry his kid(s) in his arms while they were still that age, holding their small heads against his chest, pointing out things to them as he explained everything the baby was curious about. I feel like Wooyoung would also take the family to the seaside a lot, he'd love to go inside the sea and play around by splashing each other, accidentally getting swept up by a wave, making his kid(s) laugh as their father struggled to find his footing again. And I'm pretty sure Wooyoung would constantly feed his kid(s) while they were eating, putting more and more food in their plate despite it being almost full already, and no matter what age, Wooyoung will coo at his kid(s) because they will always be his babies! (*cue the sobbing*) And I am sure Wooyoung would be his kid(s) safe haven, someone whose arms are always wide open and ready to comfort or just to hold them, remind them that he's always there for them. Wooyoung would be the type of father to encourage his kids, always, teaching them that the world's opinion about them never mattered and never will, that they should always chase their own dreams and live a happy and fulfilled life. And, similar to Hongjoong, his camera's SD card would be filled with so many memories, ah…

🐻Jongho

☆ A complete jokester, sneaky and the type of father to first laugh when their kid falls before going over to pick them up. I feel like the kid wouldn't be able to tell if their father is their worst enemy or best friend at first, because Jongho isn't afraid to scrutinize them and judge them down to the bone, but the next second the man is sticking his tongue out and cracking a joke, and the child is confused because why can't their father just pick one mood for five minutes at least? I think Jongho would love to antagonize his children with dad jokes, he's aware they are terrible but seeing the look on his children's faces is always worth it. Imagine Jongho trolling his kids any chance he gets, as an excuse for preparing them for life (we all know he just likes playing with them), and he'd be tapping their shoulders and hiding behind a tree or something, and he'd run after them down the dark hallway, making scary noises, and he'd randomly open their doors and just stand there with a blank face until his kid(s) are either scared or screaming at him to get out.

☆ I don't know why, but, I have to mention cooking. I'm pretty sure he'd gather up the family at least thrice a week, and their evening would consist of picking a recipe and making it together while some sports plays on the TV and the parents are sipping on wine while the children can have orange juice or maybe chocolate milk. I also think he'd often buy his kid(s) flowers, no matter the gender because everyone deserves flowers, and he'd probably buy them chocolate too because (guess what?) he secretly eats them and blames it on his wife so the children don't pester him about the missing chocolate lol. I feel like Jongho would raise his kids to be smart and logical, always finding solutions and not fearing the unknown (I mean, if your father chases you down a dark corridor, who fears ghosts anymore, no??) and because he's a little sneaky shit, of course, his children will end up like him too ("it's okay to cheat when playing board games", would say Jongho but also whine for an hour if he found out one of the family member's did cheat, acting as if he didn't also). Jongho would be their best pall but also their role model, he'd raise his children to be outstanding and determined, unafraid to go after what they want. I know he'd support their hobbies and always encourage them to try out new things. He'd love quiet evenings where he can hear his kid(s) in their room(s) giggling and laughing about whatever, calling him to keep them company before it's time for bed. <3

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[chronicallycouchbound]

Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals

Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.

On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.

I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.

People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.

Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.

And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.

And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.

So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.

Our world revolves around food.

I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.

It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.

Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.

Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.

Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22

[fireblossomdoll]

Ups and Downs

Synopsis: You're pregnant and having mood swings today, but Madara makes you a snack

Content: Uchiha Madara x Reader, f!reader, pregnant!reader, pregnancy!!, fluff, crack, mood swings

Word count: 987

A/N: A request from anon <3 (here are hcs about Madara and pregnant!reader)

You were already in the third trimester of your pregnancy. You couldn’t wait for your baby to come. You had picked and decorated a room with Madara, both of you really wanted this child. 

You decided to go to the market today to buy a little charm you had heard of. You had seen some children wrapping these cute pendants on their kunai, so you wanted one for your baby. The streets weren’t very crowded today, making for the perfect day out.

When you got to the store, you couldn’t find the charms. You had asked a few kids where they had gotten theirs and all of them led you here. Yet, as you searched the shelves, you couldn’t find the damn thing. Even worse, there was no staff in sight. You marched further into the store, looking for someone who could help you, and you started to think this trash place was empty.

“Hello?” You asked, annoyingly to no response.

“Hellooo??!!” You asked again, raising your voice so that the store’s useless employee could hear you.

An ugly, greasy looking guy appeared from behind one of the shelves.

“Hello, ma’am! How may I help you?” He said with his ugly smile. He sounded so nice it made you frown immediately.

“Finally! Where are you people hiding the cute charms I’ve seen around?”

“Uh, our kunai decor?”

“Are you dense? Yes, the kunai charms.” You were getting increasingly irritated by this.

“We’re unfortunately out of stock of this item.” He said, still with that hideous smile.

“The hell you mean, out of stock?! I’ve seen it everywhere!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It is indeed one of our most popular products, and because of that, it’s currently sold out.”

“Argh!”

You were exasperated and left the store in a bad mood. You just wanted to do a nice thing for your baby, but everyone seemed to be against you today.

As you walked back home, more people started to come to the streets. Of course, you couldn’t even have this one thing.

In front of your house, you saw your roses blooming. They were so pretty! You remembered how Madara helped you find the seeds, plant them and take care of them. Even if he didn't really want to garden, he still helped you grow these beautiful roses. 

Madara had taken such good care of you during this pregnancy. You loved him so much, you couldn’t have asked for a better husband. He always made sure to not let you use too much effort, and he smelled so nice.

He would let you play with his hair while he cooked you breakfast, lunch and dinner. His hair was so soft and long, you loved fiddling with it. Oh yeah, sometimes it would smell like roses if you two worked with them for too long. And he would cook for you. Such delicious food, but maybe not what you wanted right now. You wanted something lighter and sour, like a green apple. But also very sweet, like honey.

As you wandered through the living room, you heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the house. You went towards Madara's office and put you ear on the shoji to listen to what he was saying.

“–find the scrolls? –”

“ –working on it. The team hasn't–”

You couldn’t hear it properly, but what they were talking about didn't matter. You knocked and waited. Nothing happened so you knocked again, with a little more force.

“Hmm? Come in.” You heard Madara's deep voice come through.

You opened the shoji, seeing Madara and Hikaku with some scrolls laying on the table. Both looked back at you, as you stayed halfway hidden by the shoji, not really entering the room.

“Madara,” You dragged his name a bit.

“Yes?” He gave a little cute smile.

You looked down and around the round before continuing, “I wanted something to eat,” He arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but you kept going, “Some apples dipped in honey would be very nice, you know?”

“Right now, dear? I'm in the middle of something,”

“Please? Cut apples with honey sounds so good, though,” You insisted.

He sighted and stood up.

Did you bother him too much? Maybe he was tired of working and trying to get done was fast as possible, and you made him late. Or maybe he was very concentrated and you interrupted all his thoughts by coming here. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No, my love, I'm not bothered at all, just getting up,” Madara looked in your eyes, “This wasn't so important, Hikaku can deal with it by himself.”

“So it was important matters that I–”

“Not at all, let's get going,” He interrupted you and pointed towards the hallway, “Shall we?”

You followed him to the kitchen, where he picked a couple of green apples from a basket.

“You should sit down,” He told you as he grabbed a knife.

You sat down by the table and kept looking at Madara as he prepared your snack. He looked so good today, it made you smile.

When he finished cutting the apples, he poured honey into a small bowl. You were very happy with how things were looking. The honey and the apples looked delicious, you couldn't wait for Madara to bring them to you.

“Now, now, here's whatever this is supposed to be.”

Madara placed two bowls in front of you, the sliced apples and the honey. 

“Yay! Thank you!” You said as you reached out to grab one apple slice.

He walked to your side and bowed his upper body until he was slightly above your head. “No problem. Try not to make a mess with the honey, okay?” He told you before kissing your temple.

“Sure,” You said with your mouth full of apple and honey. “It's so sweet!”

“Well, it is honey,” He giggled, leaving you in the kitchen.

[sarathrwizard]

7 Day Camp Stay. Day: 1

okay, so this is part 2! (I know, this is confusing. Day 1 part 2, huuuuhhhh????)

Again, souly based on my camping trip. Most I changed was I turned into Donnie and minimizing 10 people onto 4.

Still wish I could be making some of this stuff up, but it was what it was. And it was still a good trip all in all. :)

Hope you enjoy Day: 1! (under the cut.)

7 Day Camp Stay

Day: 1

Three times he had woken up last night. But this time the sun was up. Donnie checked his phone for the clock. It was already 10:15. Donnie groaned. It was too cold to get up. He had his sleeping bag all nice a cozy! But what was the point in sleeping away the entire day? He reluctantly got out of his sleeping bag and quickly threw on his coat.

He unzipped the door and stumbled out of the tent. It was sunny, if anything. But the wind was atrocious! It was making the tent go haywire! He looked over and saw the others have had their breakfast. He walked over and stood next to the fire pit.

"I didn't start you any eggs cause you were still sleeping. You know, they would have gotten cold!"

Mikey waved his toungs around. Picking at the charcoal pieces that were still glowing red.

"I can start you some now if you'd like!"

Donnie looked at Mikey, then looked at the coals. The fire was completely out and he didn't want Mikey to have to build another fire just to cook a couple of eggs.

"No, no. It's okay. I'll have something else."

Donnie said as he walked over to the picnic table. He grabbed a couple pieces of bread and put a slice of cheese in between. It looked stupid, but it was a cheese sandwich none the less. Just not grilled. About an hour after having his breakfast, the others were starting lunch. Good-old turkey sandwiches! Without avocado this time.

"Hey, Donnie! Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Okay, we'll pack your sandwich away for later then!"

Donnie ran his finger through the dirt. He felt like he was missing something. Something he forgot to bring. No, it wasn't his lab. It wasn't even technology related. But he was missing it.

Throughout the day, Leo and Mikey were also finding that they had forgotten things they wish they brought along.

"Okay, okay! Fine!"

Raph flung his hands into the air and stood up from his camping chair.

"I can swing by the lair and grab some things for yall, okay? Now, what was it ya wanted?"

Mikey and Leo told him the various items. Raph knew he wouldn't remember all that so he had them write it down. Donnie was still sitting in the grass. Pulling out the grass blade by blade.

"Donnie, was there anything you wanted while I'm back at the lair getting these two guys their stuff?"

Raph knew it was a dangerous question, asking if Donnie wanted anything from home. He could ask for his entire lab, and Raph would have to tell him no. But Donnie seamed oddly quite. He nodded his head.

"Okay? Can you tell me?"

Donnie lifted his eyes to looked at Raph and shook his head.

"Okay then. I'll just bring you back with me so you can grab it yourself! Sound good?"

Donnie stood up and seamed like he was ready to go. So raph took Donnie back in the Taxi rocket to the lair with him. Raph had finished gathering the stuff on the list and went to find Donnie.

"Yo, Donnie! I'm done! Are you ready to go?"

Donnie came out of his room holding something small in his hands.

"Is that it?"

Raph asked because he was surprised Donnie didn't have a truckload of tech in his arms. Donnie nodded.

"... What is it?"

Donnie slowly opened his hands to reveal an Atomic Las action figure. It was silly that something so small and so simple felt like a lot more when you didn't have it near you. Raph chuckled slightly.

"That's all you want?"

Raph asked with a smile.

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's get this stuff over to the campsite!"

Soon they arrived back at camp where Mikey was already starting the fire to make dinner.

"Back so soon I see?"

"Yup! Here Leo, I gotcha your comic books."

"Thanks!"

"What are you making, Mikey?"

"Walking tacos! It's where you take a small bag of chips-"

Mikey proceeded to demonstrate.

"Put some ground beef in it. Put some cheese, lettuce, sour cream, guacamole-"

There was that avocado again. Something about 'guacamole' didn't sound very appatizing that day.

"Close the bag, mix it up, aaaand done! For you, Donnie!"

Donnie took the bag and peaked inside. It looked like a jumbled mess. But I mean, it smelled good! And he was kind of hungry sense he didn't actually eat that extra sandwich they made him. He took his food over to the picnic table and ate there. Mikey proceeded to serve everyone else too.

After they were done eating, Donnie picked up a bar of soap and was about to walk to the restrooms himself, until everyone else decided they had to go as well. So they all walked over to the restrooms. This wasn't so bad. It felt safer knowing his brothers were right there by his side. Mikey, being a typical younger brother, ran to the restroom. Either he was blowing off excess energy, or he really had to go that bad. That was a question only Mikey could answer.

Four entered the restrooms, but only three appeared to have come out. Raph and Leo were chittering there heads off. Donnie looked around and noticed Mikey was not with them.

"Where's Mikey?"

"Probably still in the bathroom."

Leo foulded his hands behind his head. Donnie stopped and turned around to confirm this probability. Opening the door, he peaked inside to see if he was washing his hands. Nope.

"Mikey? You still in here?"

...No answer. Donnie walked in and peaked under the stall doors to see if his feet were anywhere. Empty. Mikey was not in the restroom. He went back outside and checked around the restrooms. He wasn't there either. He quickly made his way back to the camp. Just when he was about to tell the others that he couldn't find Mikey, he found him snuggled up in an orange sleeping bag.

"Oh... Hi Dee! What's up?"

"I could have sworn you had went to the restrooms with us!"

"Oh, I did!"

"...Then how come I didn't see you exit?"

"Cause I was done before you even left the stall."

"Oh, Oh.. okay, I understand now. Sorry to bother you."

Donnie exited Raph and Mikeys tent and walked over to his he shared with Leo. Speaking of which, Leo was already in his sleeping bag and sound asleep! Guess it doesn't take much to run his energy battery down. Donnie quietly crawled into the tent and wiggled into his sleeping bag. The temperature should be warming that night. Somewhat of a relief for Donnie. He did not like the cold, at all.

...

30 minutes later, a horrible dizziness came over Donnie. It made his stomach turn. He shifted his position but nothing was helping. He looked at the tent as it swayed back and forth, back and forth. That didn't help at all! Quickly he scamper out of the tent. He felt like you could throw up at any given moment. His stomach settled down slightly once he was outside. But the wind was still howling. Sending shivers up and down his spine. Donnie decided he'd make a break for the restrooms. He grabbed the soap again and quickly rushed to the restrooms. The temperature was warmer that night by 20 degrees. Then why did it feel like it was freezing? His back tensed up and his teeth chattered so loud he could have woken up his brothers from a mile away!

He made it to the restrooms and quickly got inside. Again, he went into his little corner in the large restroom stall and took deep breaths. If he threw up now, at least he could easily clean it up. His throat felt thick. If he had just a little water to drink, that would fix everything, right? But he left his bottle at the tents. He then started thinking about the food he ate. At that very moment, food sounded like the most disgusting thing ever! Thinking about it made him feel sicker! He took in a few more deep breaths, hoping to calm the storm building up in his stomach. Slouching over made it hard to breathe, but sitting straight made his head spin. It was a lose-lose situation. All he could do was pray that it'd go away.

An hour he sat in that restroom stall. And finally, it felt like the dizziness left. He got up and briefly use the bathroom while he was there. Washing up, he could feel he wasn't so cold anymore. And when he walked outside, the temperature felt better. Still a little chilly, but it was manageable now. Donnie made it back to the tents. Opening up his tent door, he saw Leo, sleepily sitting up. Donnie stared at him, but Leo just stared into nothing. Before Donnie could ask if anything was wrong, Leo settled back down in his sleeping bag and pulled it up as high as it would go. Donnie saw that he looked a little cold sense he wasn't wareing his coat to sleep, as he usually would during camping. Donnie grabbed a small blanket from the side and draped it over. Leo stirred, but looked comfortable. Donnie proceeded to climb into his sleeping bag and drift off into sleep for the night.

____________

Ough boy! That was not a fun night, but I made it through!

If you enjoyed the story, then... yay? Good to know you love ✨️MiSeRy!✨️ (just kidding!)

Hope you have a wonderful day! Lord bless you! ❤️

Last x Next

[base0h]

Can I request Zoro, Luffy and Sanji reacting to their partner having an allergic reaction, like it’s so bad they can’t breathe. Perhaps it’s a new dish sanji had made and their partner didn’t know they were allergic to something in the dish until now. :D

a/n - this is supposed to be serious but if you know me I can’t be serious with one piece characters most of the time 😭 sorry anon but there’s crack in zoro’s and luffy’s💀🫶

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, reader has allergies, crack (zoro and Luffy’s part)

- lunch is Luffy’s favorite time of the day, nothing can stop him from eating lunch (it’s important to have 5 meals a day obviously 💀)

- there’s breakfast, breakfast 2, lunch, after-lunch meal, dinner, and then dessert (there’s like two deserts but he doesn’t think it counts as a meal)

- today, Sanji decided to use a sea king Luffy absolutely destroyed (it tried to steal his breakfast, rip sea king)

- it looked a bit sketchy, but Sanji can cook anything and make it taste good-

- but even as he was cooking it, the smell of it that filled the sunny made you a bit woozy, causing you to become quite fatigued

- luffy was too focused on how excited he was to eat it, so he didn’t notice your symptoms. He was literally drooling all over the poor sunny. it was gross asf

- bro couldn’t wait so he ate the ladle Sanji was smacking him with 💀💀💀💀💀

- “LUFFY SPIT OUT THE LADLE I NEED IT.” -Sanji

- “I GOT A SPLINTER IN MY THROAT AGSJBSISBDJFNC-“ -luffy (he’s choking on the wood)

- “LUFFY NOOO-” -chopper

- when the time finally came to eat, you were only starting to feel worse, that stench of the meat was making you even more nauseated than before

- you had started to cough more frequently, having a constant itch in your throat that just wouldn’t go away

- “Are you alright y/n?” -robin (shes so caring 😭🫶)

- “I’m ok robin- thank you.”

- you tried playing it off as nothing, but it was getting hard to breathe, your vision becoming blurry as you sat down next to Luffy at the table

- you tried to take a bite, barely being able to swallow it, struggling to get the food down

- “Y/n.. Do you not like it?” -Sanji

- you stared down at your hands, and you noticed that little red dots had started to form on your knuckles, spreading down your wrists

- you couldn’t breathe.

- “Y/n…? Helloooo?” -luffy

- he tried waving his hand in front of your face, but you ended up passing out onto the table face first

- “OH MY GOD Y/N DIED.” -luffy bro you suck 💀💀💀

- chopper immediately rushed over, having to literally shove Luffy away from you so he could inspect you

- cue Luffy running around in circles freaking out about how you died in front of him (like ace)

- “IM SUCH A BAD BOYFRIEND I LET Y/N DIE IN FRONT OF ME-“

- it turned out you were allergic to this specific type of sea king, and chopper managed to give you some medicine to help you feel better

- Sanji kept apologizing, making sure that he would never cook this again in the future

- “ARE YOU OK Y/N?! HOW MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP?” -luffy (he’s holding four fingers up but this dumbass can’t count)

- “Four.” -you

- “CHOPPER Y/N’S DYING SHE THINKS IM HOLDING UP 4 FINGERS AGSOWBDOSNDJNFOXNC-“

- omfg Luffy pls 😭

- you love this guy but he’s dumb af

- Sanji absolutely adores cooking for you, he’d do it every minute if you wanted 🫶

- he practically knows every single dish you like by heart, and can recite all your favorite fruits and vegetables

- he always loves making new recipes for you to try, you’re his most trusted taste tester! (It’s not luffy- bro would eat the food and the plate too so he’s disqualified)

- today, he wanted to try a new take on some foreign food items he got from the market

- he hadn’t ever seen these before, but he had a knack for knowing which things would be delicious and rich in nutrients

- ever since the smell of the food traveled onto the sunny, you noticed that it was harder to take deep, full breaths.. but maybe it was just because the air was thin

- it didn’t go away. It only continued to worsen as Sanji kept cooking

- soon you started to cough, and have shortness of breath

- Sanji quickly stopped smoking, thinking that perhaps it was because of him. And he took you outside for a moment for you to get some fresh air

- your symptoms just wouldn’t go away! Irritatingly lingering around like some insect

- the time came to test out the new food, and your cough had worsened, your heartbeat racing from your lungs struggling to breathe

- it tasted good.. But the moment it traveled down your throat, you could feel it closing, as if your airways were completely blocked

- Sanji noticed it right away, and ran off in a panic to get chopper, supporting you from behind as chopper inspected your throat

- Sanji didn’t know what to do.. He wasn’t a doctor. But he knew he had to do whatever he could to make you feel better. He hated seeing you in pain!

- his hands carefully held you up as he allowed you to rest against his chest. Chopper confirmed that it was a severe allergic reaction to the food… And Sanji couldn’t believe that he was the one that caused this

- he immediately made Luffy scarf the food down to get it away from you, and made a mental note to get mad at the merchant that sold him the meat later (anything for y/n 🫶🫶)

- he did whatever he could to make you feel better.. Water? He’s already got it. Take you to bed? Of course! A nice blanket? You don’t even have to ask

- he felt so guilty! He never meant to make you have an allergic reaction like that.. He kept apologizing- over and over

- “Y/n- I’m so sorry.. I didn’t know you were allergic to that. I swear I’ll never cook it again, do you need anything? Water? I’ll get it for you! I’m sorry- you don’t have to forgive me- it’s completely my fault.”

- poor guy was ranting about how he doesn’t deserve you anymore 😭

- you had to reassure the man that it was alright, and that you turned out to be alright in the end!

- “No but seriously please don’t cook that again I think I almost died.” -you

- “IM SORRY Y/N IM SO SORRY-“ -Sanji

- bro is literally on his knees begging for forgiveness 💀

- zoro’s solution to anything health related would either be to sleep, drink, or take a shit

- stomach hurts? Take a shit

- feeling stressed? Take a shit

- need a break? Take a shit (copyrighted by zoro)

- he’s a tough guy, and he’s not very smart sometimes 💀

- but you love the marimo nonetheless 🫶

- he had just finished his 29th fight with Sanji today, and it was right on time for lunch

- you were amazed by how Sanji could argue and still try to kick zoro’s head off at the same time

- today, you felt oddly stiff and uncomfortable, were you getting sick?

- you didn’t start feeling under the weather until Sanji started cooking lunch… But you didn’t pay attention to that, you tried to press on and bare through it with a grin

- it got harder and harder, and your head started hurting next.

- “Your head hurts? Did you shit today?” -zoro

- “What the fuck does my shit have to do with my head zoro?”

- he’s dumb just leave him be

- of course he’s concerned for you, he just doesn’t know how to help you 👍

- he continued eating his lunch, and you managed to take a bite of yours after a couple minutes of mustering up the strength

- you couldn’t breathe

- you started panicking, grabbing zoro’s arm to tell him something’s wrong. This wasn’t just a cold- this was something BAD

- “Y/n? What the hell? You look horrible rn-“ -zoro (did he just insult you 😭)

- he finally realized that something was really wrong- and he started freaking out-

- he started slapping your back to try and get you to spit out the food- he thought you were maybe choking

- “Y/N? ARE YOU CHOKING? STOP CHOKING.” -zoro (wow zoro you’re so helpful 💀💀💀)

- you thought he’d be helpful? Yeah nah 😭

- bro was literally abusing your poor back, you swore he broke some kind of muscle back there

- chopper ran over, quickly inspecting you before deducing that it was an allergic reaction to the food

- “What the hell’s an allergy??” -zoro

- “It’s when people’s bodies don’t like a certain object or thing- it makes them cough or sneeze and maybe even does what it did to y/n.” -chopper

- Mosshead is so confused right now (he’s never been sick 💀)

- You started feeling better after chopper gave you some medicine to clear your system of the food.. And thank god- you felt so much better than before

- “Y/n you could’ve just shit out the food.” -zoro

- “I CANT SHIT ON COMMAND YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER-“

a/n - Luffy can’t count 💪

[it-was-summer]

Come In With The Rain- Part Two (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. I could tell everyone everything that has been going on for the past couple of weeks but I fear that no one cares. I genuinely found solace in writing this, and I really hope everyone likes it! I have not proofread this very throughly, but hey partially proofreading something is better than nothing at all guys. I thought about writing a SFW and NSFW version but I feel like if you don't want to read the smut in this... just scroll down a little more and it'll go away. With so much love and gratitude, Em.

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

Part one -> You are on Part Two!

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Light cursing, pining, guilt up the wazoo, Spencer Reid being pookie again, death mentioned (its literally a part of Swan Lake don't worry), ballet talk by someone who sucks at ballet (me), SMUT okay?!?!?!?, the words cunt and cock guys!!! (I'm 22 I have free will), unprotected sex (STIs are no joke, believe me), fingering, mention of oral sex, slight dirty talk, female anatomy, dark house mentioned, joke of a heart attack, and a secret final thing (not proofread well enough probably).

Plot: Coping with your break-up was no easy feat. Luckily, Spencer is there to help. Maybe that's why he can't stop thinking about you.

Word Count: 20,043

Day Two Hundred and Five

After week two of the breakup, you decided you couldn’t sit around and cry on Spencer’s couch anymore. You weren’t ready to go out every night or date again by any means; you were still working on some things in the dating area. Dating someone for two years and five months will do that to you.

But you were ready to get back to doing things you enjoyed: reading novels, watching movies, baking, cooking, knitting, and spending time with a man you were grateful to call one of your best friends.

Spencer Reid was a godsend. He wouldn’t accept any money as a thank-you for letting you crash on his couch for a month, so you moved to your next best angle– spoiling the man. If he went to the grocery store, you went with him. You’d take control of the cart and grab items needed for breakfast, lunch, and dinner– you became a hardworking FBI agent’s dream. You’d make breakfast for the two of you, occasionally making lunch with too many leftovers, forcing Spencer to take some before he left for work that day, and then topping it all off with dinners. 

He had tried to get you to stop multiple times. He felt terrible and guilty for having a guest in his kitchen more than he was. You wouldn’t hear it, and the times you did, he would find a book he had mentioned last week on his bed the next day. 

He felt like he was losing his mind over your kindness. You were overcompensating when there was no reason to overcompensate. He kept telling you how happy he was to have you in the apartment, that you were safe, but you would just say a sweet “I know” before you’d be on his couch looking up a recipe for some elaborate jello dessert. 

You sat across from him at his dining room table, humming softly as you ate. Seeing your slightly happy mood made Spencer feel better. He assumed another reason for your ‘attentive’ behavior recently was that it was a coping mechanism for you. Struggling with the loss of a two-year relationship, he knew you were struggling— struggling with quite a bit, actually: your failed relationship, your upcoming move, being cheated on, and, the cherry on top, immense guilt. 

You felt like a burden above all else. You had told Spencer as such after apologizing for nothing for what seemed to be the tenth time two weeks ago. He threatened to find whoever taught you the word and ensure they never saw the light of day again, and that got a smile out of you at the time.

Spencer was starting to wrestle with some guilt of his own. It wasn’t that you had done anything to warrant said guilt. You were the perfect guest—a saint. Even when faced with situations that would leave anyone nearly catatonic for weeks, you were spoiling him. And he was eating it up, literally and figuratively. 

A rational voice inside of his head knew that being around you was a bad idea at the current time. Josh had accused you of cheating on him with Spencer emotionally, that is. It was a terrible time, and it couldn’t be a worse time for him to realize how strong his feelings were for you. It is not necessarily love per se, but perhaps it is an intense infatuation. He kept trying to rationalize his feelings over and over and over again. He knew you were nowhere near ready for that kind of revelation. He had to intellectualize and compartmentalize his emotions into a tiny box in his brain to protect himself and you. That was the right thing to do. 

So, he relished in these little moments while you were still crashing at his apartment, happily eating across from him—all while knowing he could not have you. You’d always take a few bites and then ask him how his day was. The simple ask made a smile appear on his face nearly every time. 

He shrugged a little, a small smile on his lips as he twisted some noodles onto his fork. “It was okay, thankfully, it was slow. Paperwork is a nice break from traveling for cases. Not that I don’t like the cases, they can just get…” He trails off briefly, looking down at the chow mein on his fork. “Overwhelming.” 

When he looks up, his heart nearly melts at the sweet, empathetic look you’re giving him. With you, it was never pity. You always looked at him with soft, compassionate eyes and a look that told him you felt for him. He remembers mentioning his struggles with his mother briefly as the two of you watched a movie earlier that week, a character being paranoid schizophrenic. You briefly expressed sympathy for the character and how hard it must be to live with something like that. Spencer can’t remember what came over him when he said, “It’s hard on a family– hard to watch.” 

You stared at him for a second before you blinked a little and reached for his hand, resting your palm on the back of his hand. You said nothing after that, and Spencer was happy you didn’t pry. 

You were good at listening like that, something he adored about you. You never bombarded him with questions; sometimes, you’d offer a soft “Do you want to talk about it?” but nothing beyond that. 

You knew you could be nosy with Spencer’s job, but sometimes you could look into those hazel eyes and tell when he did or didn’t want to talk about something. It was a superpower you had picked up in the almost seven months of knowing him. 

You poked at a carrot with your chopsticks after Spencer answered your question regarding his day, “Paperwork day for the guy who reads twenty-thousands words per minute has got to go by fast,” 

“You would think so, but sometimes, when I sit down for so long, all my energy leaves me. Has to be all the sleep I’ve been losing lately due to someone’s soft snoring in the living room.” He chuckles softly, a playful look in his eyes as he bites down on his chow mein. 

You gasp and glare at him playfully, “You said it wasn’t that bad!” You’re shaking your head in seeming disbelief as he chews, taking a moment to tease him more. “I can’t believe you, Spencer Walter Reid, would lie to me like this. How am I supposed to trust you?” 

He’s rolling his eyes as he swallows, his mouth opening to reply when a knocking at his door causes the two of you to cease all sounds of laughter and look toward the door. You watch as Spencer walks to the door, looking through the peephole. He sends you a sympathetic look over his shoulder and opens the door. 

You’re standing up now, walking away from the small dining room table to peer over who is at the door. You feel your knees become weak at the sight of them together. It’s a blatant attempt to get back at you, and it isn’t exactly subtle as Estelle wraps her arms around Josh’s arm. You watch as his elbow presses into her exposed cleavage, and you feel like laughing wildly. 

Josh is slow to see you behind Spencer, but eventually, his eyes land on you. You want to look away, but his eyes on yours have you frozen. You lick your lips nervously as you wonder why he’s here. Two weeks, almost three, of not even attempting to see you. And now he’s at Spencer’s front door. He’s probably sick with satisfaction at the fact that you’re here– you can see it in the way he smiles at you. 

You used to love seeing him smile, but this one causes your stomach to turn. He’s saying something, but it all sounds like static. You shake your head a little before you hear your voice whisper, “Sorry, what?” 

“I have a box of your things.” He repeats, and you see the cardboard box now. You nod a little and walk toward the door. Your hands are shaking as you take the box away from him. You look at Estelle, who is trying to avoid your gaze, as you take the box. 

“Why didn’t you text me?” 

“I didn’t want to see it anymore,” He maneuvers Estelle’s hand into his as you take the box away from him. “That and we were on our way out tonight. What’s wrong with two lovebirds visiting two other lovebirds.” 

Your tongue feels like sandpaper as you try not to yell, cry, throw up, maybe all at once. Spencer is the one who speaks up for you, “We aren’t in a relationship,” 

“Oh, so you’re just screwing my leftovers?” 

Spencer is trying to keep calm, but his grip on the edge of his door is tightening, and he can hear the anger in his voice as he says, “Have some respect.” 

He feels Josh’s laughter at his comment coarse through his veins like a non-luminescent flame; venom rises on his tongue before he feels a soft hand touching his arm. Your eyes are wide and sorrowful as you silently shake your head at him. It’s enough to make him stand down but not enough to stop him from attempting to kill your ex-boyfriend with a glare. 

“Thank you, Josh. I hope the two of you have a lovely evening.” You say as you motion for Spencer to close the door, and you let out a shaky sigh as he does, the door closing with a light click. “Thought I packed everything,” you whisper as you walk back to the dining room table, setting the box on the floor next to you. As you sit back in your chair to eat, Spencer stands awkwardly next to you for a second, his eyes looking at the box before he tears them away and sits in his seat. 

It is quiet, so quiet and tense that Spencer can hear everything. His senses are attuned to any signs of distress from you, but none do. You look up from your Chinese food after a while and give him a little confused look. He’s sure he’s looking at you strangely, so he decides he can’t handle the silence anymore. “Why are you still nice to him?” 

You look back down at your food as you poke at pieces of broccoli and celery. You sigh gently as your shoulders slump, “What’s the point of being mean? He has Estelle. He thinks he’s won whatever our break-up was. I can’t fight that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Can’t argue with someone who doesn’t think they’re in the wrong, Spence.” 

Spencer draws his lips into a tight line and looks at his food, slowly twirling some soy-covered noodles on his fork. “I guess not, but it still isn’t fair to you.” 

“None of this is fair, but I can’t control it. I can only control myself. He didn’t listen the first time, and he won’t listen the second time. I’d be wasting my breath.” You huff out sharply as you take a bite of soy-covered broccoli. Spencer raises his gaze to meet yours and smiles apologetically, but he doesn’t have to say the words as he watches you chew. You’re already shaking your head with amusement in your eyes. 

After a few more minutes of silent eating, you glance at the box by your feet and playfully ask, “You want to see what we got?” 

Spencer wants to tell you that it’s your stuff. You probably already know what is inside, but he figures you already know that. You’re just trying to make the situation less tense. So, he nods, “Yeah,”

You clap your hands together quickly before leaning down to grab the box. You look up at him and count down slowly, “Three… Two… One!” Your fingers open the box as you laugh. 

Spencer doesn’t need to lean over the table to see what is inside the box as you slowly start pulling items from the box and holding them up proudly. A half-read book, bookmarks, pens, earrings, necklaces, and then your fingers stall. You slowly pull out a photo of Josh’s family with yours, the two of you in the middle. You frown a little as you show Spencer, and he wonders what he should say in an attempt to comfort you. 

But you’re gently turning the photo back to you and tracing the edges. Then you smile, a genuine smile. It’s the last thing Spencer expects from you as you whisper, “It was a great vacation, you know? I kept asking for those cocktails with the little umbrella, and Josh’s mom and I kept talking about–” You cut yourself off.

You look up at Spencer, “Well, it was great.” 

Spencer wanted to grab you by your shoulder and shake you out of it, and he didn’t understand how you could be so happy to remember your time with Josh when the relationship ended so badly. How could you give Josh another one of your smiles? 

“I know it seems dramatic,” you sigh as you set the picture back into the box. “But Monday, I was just at work and felt free… if that makes any sense?” 

Spencer shook his head slightly, indicating he did not understand what you were saying. You bit your lip a little as you tried to suppress a smile, “When I took a second to think about Josh and me. I realized that…he hadn’t been the person I fell in love with for a long time. He hasn’t been that person for a whole year. That’s the funny thing about love: you’re supposed to love a person as they change. I think I’m still holding onto Josh from a year ago. The Josh from right before I moved in.”

Spencer nodded along silently, trying his hardest to relate. As far as he could tell, Spencer had only been in love once. He never got to the part that you were talking about. He barely got to meet her before she died. When you were still dating Josh, you asked Spencer if there was someone, and he told you a little bit about his someone– his Maeve. His headaches, her intelligence, their romance, and how he lost her just when he was about to have her. 

He remembers how you teared up and how easy it felt to hug you. He wasn’t fond of hugging people when he was upset. He wanted to protect himself from showing too much to most people, but you weren’t most people. You were the first person he could dream about again, making him hope for the maybe. 

But that hope for something more with you didn’t matter much when you were right in front of him, telling him you were holding onto a version of Josh long gone. He didn’t know what to say if he was being honest. Matters of the heart always make him stumble around a little, and he always feels like he says the wrong things. 

You shift in your seat before you say a sweet, “I’m going to okay, really okay.” And Spencer believes you. 

Day Two Hundred and Twenty-Five

Spencer helped you move into your new apartment at the beginning of the month. It was ten minutes from your old complex and, according to Spencer, ‘too far away for him to keep an eye on you.’ If you were being honest, you were happy to be alone for the first time since the break-up. 

Spencer was a great friend, the best friend, for letting you crash on his couch for an entire month. You got to see a more intimate version of him, too. You had told him that you’d felt like a burden initially, but by the end, you couldn’t end but feel ashamed of yourself. 

Spencer would come home and try to push you out of the kitchen as you made dinner. If he couldn’t, then he would insist on helping you. He would sit on the couch with you, and if you were interested in something he wasn’t a fan of, he would say, 'This could be the movie that changes my mind.’ He was so sweet, caring, and overwhelmingly supportive that you couldn’t help but develop a soft spot for him. It made you feel sick to think that maybe Josh was right– maybe you did have feelings for Spencer. So, you gave it a few weeks when you moved into your new apartment. 

There was no way Josh was right. You tried to remember all the ways that Spencer Reid was off-limits. He was your best friend. He had seen you sob over Legally Blonde and then critiqued it until you laughed, face raw from tears. He had seen you cry over a burnt roast one stormy evening last week. Even if you did have feelings for Spencer, it was unlikely he reciprocated those feelings. You were too much of a mess. 

Being away from him helped you shove any feelings for him deep into the ridges of your mind and process everything. You didn’t have time to focus on Spencer or men in general. No, you need to focus on yourself for a while. 

You decided to avoid hanging out with Spencer until the ballet in two and a half weeks, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea. You could sort through your emotions to see if they were something real or an intense version of friendship—friendly affection and nothing more. 

With no Spencer, no one to come home to at night, and no one to embarrass yourself to, one thing was evident for the weeks ahead. It was going to be an incredibly dull two and a half weeks. 

Day Two Hundred and Forty-Five

You kept glancing at the clock at work. Friday night, tonight at six. The ballet wasn’t until eight, but Spencer and you had dinner plans. You canceled the reservation that was initially intended for Josh and you and changed it to a restaurant you actually enjoyed. And if you were being honest… you were excited to see Spencer, have a nice dinner, and see Swan Lake. 

It seemed like the perfect evening. After spending the past two and a half weeks mulling over your feelings and what they were toward Spencer. You decided you couldn’t do it. Spencer Reid was untouchable. He was your friend, and pridefully, you couldn’t let Josh’s accusations become true. It felt wrong, dirty. So you decided that no matter your feelings for Spencer, they would ultimately calm down and return to the good-natured platonic feelings they once were– if they were ever platonic, you didn’t know. You were still figuring that part out. 

The second you got home, you dove into your closet. Back in college, you used to joke that every location had a theme, and a part of you still believed that. You were careful when choosing your outfit. Black was a classic, and you had debated it against a different dress in a color that looked good against your skin. Ultimately, the elegant black ruched dress you had hanging up in your closet won. You had better shoes for it anyway. 

The way you were getting ready was a little frantic, accompanied by the fact that Spencer insisted on picking you up since you now lived closer to the restaurant. You were scared you didn’t have enough time. 

Primping and preening would have to be cut in half. Ultimately, you still had ten minutes to get ready before Spencer texted you to let you know he was on his way. Your hair was done in a stylish way that framed your face just right, your skin moisturized and glittering, and your makeup done to be clean and slightly romantic. 

You were pulling on a pair of low pumps when you heard his soft knocking at your door. You glanced at your bedroom door and let out a soft groan of frustration as you struggled with a strap on one of the shoes, “It’s open!” You trip a little as you rush across the room for your bag, so the words come out slightly stumbled. 

Nonetheless, Spencer hears it, and you can hear the front door opening. “You know, even if it is for my benefit, you shouldn’t do that.” You hear him call out from your living room, along with the sound of something rustling. 

You smile and shake your head as you try to pick between a pair of earrings, “But, it was for you. You can walk back out, and I’ll lock it again, just for you.” 

“Alright, I can drive home right now.” 

“And leave me all alone tonight? You wouldn’t dare.” You laugh out as you take one last look at yourself in the mirror and slowly smooth out your dress's fabric. A small voice in your head whispers, “Dates always make me nervous.” You feel your cheeks burn at the idea that this is a date–you remind yourself it isn’t. 

This is just two friends hanging out, platonically. You look at yourself in the mirror as you silently convince yourself that friends hang out all the time. You can hear Sabrina’s voice in your head; after you told her that you were going to the ballet with Spencer, she said, “‘Me and my hot friends always go on platonic dates that definitely won’t lead to anything, ever.’” 

You cringe inwardly at the memory, shaking off your anxieties as you open your bedroom door and step out. The first thing you notice is the bouquet of flowers in his hands—your favorite flowers mixed amongst baby’s breath and eucalyptus leaves. You gasp softly and give him a broad smile, “You got me flowers?” 

Spencer's eyes haven’t met yours yet as they trail down your body. He’s trying not to stare at you like a creep, honest. But it’s near impossible to pull his eyes away from how you look in that dress, his gaze meeting yours, hoping you didn’t catch him staring at you like a hungry dog. 

“Yeah. Yes, I did. I saw them at the store and thought you’d like them.” He’s a lousy liar. 

You smile wide as you take them out of his hands and go into the kitchen to find a vase for them. “Now, why did you just lie?” You call him out with a soft laugh. 

Spencer frowns a little, knowing he can’t give you the real reason. Because I haven’t seen you in two weeks and I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone who was only ten minutes away. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I feel like I can actually think clearly when you’re around. Because you make my mind slow to a steady beat that doesn’t scare me… Because… Because… “Flowers can have a long-term and immediate effect on a person’s mood. Most of the moods associated with flowers are joy, empathy, hope, pride, and love, to name a few. I just wanted to make you,” he pauses as his lips form a tight-lipped smile, “feel the associated emotions.” And it is partially truthful. 

You like that answer enough as you cut the stems shorter, fill the vase with water halfway, and carefully slip the bouquet into the vase. “Well, I do feel happy…” You trace one of the stems with a feather touch. “And, I do feel pretty,” you pause as you sing a little, slightly off-key, “and witty, and–” 

“Please, no. I just got that song out of my head!” Spencer says as his hands fly to his ear dramatically. He can recognize that laugh in a pitch-black room; his smile hurts his cheeks. 

As you rearrange the flowers, you glance at Spencer’s outfit and feel something akin to butterflies in your stomach (maybe just a little lower). His look isn’t far off from his work clothes. The same dark plum tie against his light grape button-up long sleeve. Sometimes, he wears a cardigan with it, but he’s sporting a grey blazer right now. Same slacks, different shoes. Same Spencer, neater hair. 

“Did you get a haircut? It looks…” As you slowly leave the rearranged flowers, you trail off and walk to him, staring up at his hair. “Tame." you finish with a smile. 

Spencer looks down into your eyes and shakes his head slowly, “No, haircut. Just had a stroke of luck.” But he can see your hand coming up to his hair, and he’s too slow to stop you as you ruffle his hair lightly and gasp. 

“Gel!” You squeal as he grabs your right hand by the wrist and pulls it away from his hair. You’re giggling too much to notice how intimate this could look to someone on the outside. “Good luck, my ass.” 

“Apologies for wanting to look good next to you. I’ll never try again.” 

“I like your hair as it is.” You say as he drops your wrist and takes a small step back. “And we always look good together, excuse you.” 

He wants to tell you that it sounds wrong when you say it like that, but he doesn’t want to interrupt that smile on your face, so he just wordlessly nods before checking his watch. 

Before he can get the words out, you quickly grab your bag and say, “Reservation is in twenty. We must make haste!” 

The restaurant wasn’t too far, but you had a thing with time, and you didn’t want to be late for the ballet at eight, so when the hostess said your table was already ready when you and Spencer arrived— a wave of relief washed over your anxious bones. 

It was a fine dinner, with delightful conversation– witty banter and laughs. When Spencer left for the bathroom, you watched him as you happily sipped on your water. You felt a soft tap on your shoulder that caused your head to turn, a pretty woman looking at you with stars in her eyes. 

“You and your boyfriend are so sweet,” 

You felt hot all over, “Oh,” you shake your head a little, “He’s n-” 

“You two bounce off each other so well; I’ve never heard anything like it! Honey,” she looks to her girlfriend across the table, “Have you ever heard two people so good– Don’t give me that look. She thinks I’m nosy, never mind her opinion,” A sharp laugh comes from her girlfriend, “I just hope you know that the two of you are adorable!” 

You smile politely and force yourself not to sink into your chair, “Thank you,” you squeak softly. She nods with a large grin as she turns back to her dinner, and you awkwardly do the same, poking gently at your food with your fork. 

Spencer can see how you’re slumped a little in your chair, breathing heavily, as you slowly shake your head. He can’t help but wonder what happened in the five minutes he was away from the table. He places a soft hand on your forearm as he sits down and whispers, “What’s wrong?” 

Your eyes meet his, and you let the caramel color of his eyes bring you back to reality. “Just a bad memory,” You flash him a fake smile, gently pulling your arm away from his grip. You look down at your meal, then at him, “What’s the time?” 

Spencer’s pulling back his sleeve, his eyes holding your gaze before glancing at the time. “7:18.” 

You nod, taking another sip of your water, “It’s only fifteen away,” Your voice sounds off, and Spencer can feel his brows furrowing at the sound. 

“Did I do someth–”

“No,” you say quickly. Your gaze looks uneased, but your touch on his hand is soft with concern. “No, Spence. I’m just in my head, thinking too many things at once. I’ll be okay.” 

Spencer tries to relax over your words, but he knows something is wrong—something you don’t want to discuss with him. He slowly nods and says gently, “Okay,” And lets it slide. 

For a second, there is a beat of palatable silence, and Spencer can feel his skin itch due to the lack of sound at the table. He didn’t mind comfortable silences in rooms with you, but this was hardly comfortable. So he did the best thing he knew how to do, “You know,” your eyes land on his, “Ballet originated during the Italian Renaissance, the fifteenth century actually. However, it wasn’t until the sixteenth century that it was brought to France by Catherine de Medici.” 

You mouthed a soft ‘oh,’ Spencer continued before you could say more. “She showed the first ‘meal fork’ in court too!” Spencer said with a nod, taking his fork in hand and making an excited face at you. 

You smile wide at that and laugh openly at him, “Are you trying to cheer me up by talking about a dead Queen of France right now?” 

“That depends, is it working?” 

You shrug a little, playful and dismissive, “I haven’t decided yet.” 

Spencer liked his lips, and he stared at you for a second, “Catherine De Medici was notoriously Catholic and played a center role in the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre, which was a ploy to wipe out Hugo-” 

“Are we ready for the check?” The waiter’s voice interrupted Spencer’s mini-rant. A slight frown appeared on your face as you looked at your almost-finished food and gave the waiter a slight nod.

When he walked away to grab the check, your hands reached for your purse, “Hey! Put the card down.” Spencer snipped at you as he smacked your card with his own, earning a chuckle from you. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to pay, Spencer. It’s an expensive me-” 

“View it as a thank you for all the meals you ma-” 

“I’m the one who invited you out-” 

The waiter now stood at the edge of the table as he nervously set down the check, and your hand flew to it. Spencer’s hand is faster than yours as he grabs the check, slides his card in it without glancing at the cost, and hands it back to the waiter. When his gaze met yours again, you’re frowning at him—a playful kind of frown, but a frown. “What?” His voice cracks softly. 

“Curse you and your long, attractive fingers, Dr. Reid. I could have paid. I was happy too, you know?” 

“I know, I know, but I just couldn’t help but think about how kind you’ve been to me, and I– you think my fingers are attractive?” 

Your cheeks flush a little, suck in a breath, and shake your head. “I think you’re imagining things, Spencer. I said ‘hyperactive’.” 

He raises an eyebrow as you try to gaslight someone with an eidetic memory, but when he thought about teasing you further, all he could think about was your sad, distant face just moments ago. So, he decides that maybe he should keep his mouth shut– this time. “Hyperactive it is.” 

You know he’s being nice; he definitely heard you say his hands were attractive. But he’s a saint. He let you crash on his couch for a month and never expected any money out of it. He let you cry on his shoulder and monopolize his television—not to mention his free time. He was so compassionate and kind that he made it hard for you to deny the fluttering feeling in your chest as you look at him in the restaurant's dim light. “Thank you,” 

“Happy to do it,” His voice is soft as the waiter slowly returns with his card, but his eyes are glued to your face. The look in your eyes can only be described as appetency… no, tenderness, or maybe endearment. All he knows is that you’re looking around the restaurant with eyes shining with sweet and loving emotion, barely meeting his. 

The drive to the theatre wasn’t too long, and the two of you had managed to get a nice parking spot, considering the traffic. The seats were in the lower mezzanine section, a selection that was mostly for you when you originally booked it. You could still hear Josh’s voice as he questioned why you weren’t going for the closer, more intimate orchestra section. You liked seeing the dancers, yes, but you loved the stage work too. In your opinion, the view of all the dancers on stage, with the props complimenting their movements, made the show more enjoyable. 

You glance over nervously at Spencer as he sits down next to you. You shift in your seat a little as you whisper. “I’m sorry the seats aren’t closer. I like seeing the whole stage.” You motion to the stage with your hand. 

Spencer smiles and shakes his head before tilting his head a little lower to whisper back, “The seats are perfect.” Then he’s taking your hand in his and giving it a little squeeze, and you think you might explode. 

You feel a little nauseous, a twisting feeling slowly forming into a giddy excitement in your stomach. The theater's lights start to dim, but Spencer doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he maneuvers your hand to the armrest between the two of you and gently lays his palm upon the back of yours. 

You struggle for a second as you move your head to look at the stage. Your eyes are glued to the stage now, watching intently as the Prologue begins. 

The tension is almost forgotten about halfway through the pas de trois, but you can feel his breath softly against your ear before he even speaks, “Most ballet companies in America follow the 1895 revival. The choreographer’s, Marius Petipa, pas de trois remains nearly unchanged in most Swan Lake productions today.” 

You glance at him to see that his face is closer to yours than you’d like it to be, but you give him a soft sound of interest as your heart thumps in your chest. He seems grateful for the sound as he leans away from you, his eyes lingering on yours, and he reluctantly turns his gaze back to the stage. 

Slowly, you follow suit, replicating his movements, but not before you find your eyes dipping down to his hand on your still. You smile softly as you watch one ballerina get lifted off the ground for a second. 

During the first intermission between Acts, you told Spencer you wanted to get some fresh air. You felt hot all over during the scene of Odette’s reveal as Spencer went from placing his palm on top of yours to gently lacing his fingers through yours. When the first intermission started, you decided you needed to get outside and breathe. 

And it hit you. 

When you were with Josh for the last few months, you would feel an itch to get away, to run a floor down. When he missed the point of a joke, you’d make a mental note to repeat it to Spencer later. All the dates should have been with Josh: the foreign movies, the painting, poetry readings, this ballet. You felt a twisting in your gut as you realized that Josh was right. You had stopped wanting him a long time ago. You stopped seeking him out in a crowd. Instead, your eyes had started looking for a tall brunette with the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Spencer was suddenly the person you thought about when you heard a lovely song, saw something interesting at the store, or had a bad day— not Josh. 

When did that happen? You felt like crying, breathing hard against the theater's outside wall. You felt thousands of questions racing through your mind, but one reverberated loudly: Does Spencer know?

You felt your mouth turn to cotton at the idea of Spencer Reid knowing you’re helplessly in love with him. Oh my god, you’re in love with Spencer Reid. 

When did you stop loving Josh? Did you stop loving him the second you ran up to Spencer in the apartment’s parking lot? Maybe it was when he saw that your shoelace was untied one rare late-night walk in the park together, and he stooped down to tie it for you? Or when he annotated Jane Austen’s Persuasion as a random ‘just because’ gift? When did your love for Josh stop and your love for Spencer begin? The answer didn’t matter much now because now you know. 

You’re in love with Spencer Reid, but he can’t know.

It was too risky a move. He was your friend above all else. Then, there was the matter of your pride and dignity. Josh was right, and you didn’t want him to be. You had unintentionally destroyed a two-year relationship; how could you let yourself be happy after that? How could you be happy after broken promises of marriage, growing old together? 

The lights flickered to signify the end of the intermission, and you slipped back into the theatre with a calm smile. Your cheeks were red when you caught sight of him again, and there he was, reading the program. As you got closer, it was like he could feel you in the air. His head lifted toward your direction, and his eyes met yours instantaneously. But how could you not love those eyes? Honey-filled irises that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. Wild, wavy, brown hair that curled around the edges of his face. You feel like crying again. 

He could tell. His expression shifted to concern as you took your seat next to him, “Everything alright?” His voice was barely a whisper. 

Forcing a smile, you nod and gently whisper, “Allergies,” as your weak excuse. 

Nonetheless, it worked for Spencer as he gave you a nod. At least he let you think it worked. His eyes drifted over to you occasionally as the next act started. Sometimes, his eyes would meet yours, and he would give you a sweet smile before staring intensely at the stage. 

He was sure he had done something wrong. He was sure it was how he held your hand during the previous act. He knew he shouldn't have pushed that boundary, but when you didn’t move your hand away from him the whole act, he felt ecstatic— shamelessly so.

Spencer tried to keep his hand busy when you left during intermission. He wanted to trace his thumb against your knuckles, feel the size of your palm against his, and know the lines of your palm forevermore. He was being selfish. So, the paper program was the best way for him to pass the time. 

But these feelings for you that he had just kept getting in the way. When you moved to your new apartment, he knew you were avoiding him. The why was the part Spencer couldn’t figure out. He wondered what he could have done wrong so often that he was sure he would grovel at your feet the next time he saw you. Then he saw you tonight, and he couldn’t understand why he ever let you leave his apartment in the first place. 

When he saw you step out of your bedroom, his heart sank, and he knew. He knew he couldn’t intellectualize these feelings away– couldn’t deny them any longer. His hands yearned to touch you like they yearned to turn the page of a good book. His eyes searched for you in every crowd. He thought of roaming through stores near your apartment, hoping he might run into you, though he talked himself out of it multiple times. You were the only thing on his mind these days. Last week, when the team was in Detroit, he saw someone who looked like you and almost grabbed their hand in the middle of the precinct. 

Spencer's eyes drifted to you again near the end of the second to last act. Two intermissions, almost three acts and you still seemed off. You still gave him a sweet smile and let him whisper little facts to you here and there, but you didn’t seem like yourself. It seemed like you were hiding something from him. 

During the last act, he was practically lost in thought as he watched the dramatic scenes of Swan Lake play out in front of him. He was sure his eyebrows were pinched together as his fingers rubbed circles on the armrest, eyes darting around the stage with the Swan Queen’s movements. 

That was until the final scene. Every ballet company was different, but this one decided they liked a tragic ending better. As Odette begins to throw herself into the lake, he feels your hands grab his. Spencer jumps at the feeling, his eyes darting over to you with a concerned expression, but you’re staring straight at the stage. 

Your hand held onto his tight as the lovers killed themselves, and you were tearing up. He couldn’t look away; you were so enraptured. Spencer felt guilty for not being as enthralled as you had been all night. He was so busy silently panicking over what was different with you that he forgot to be in the moment with you. He squeezes your hand gently as the music hits its crescendo. He could feel the music taking hold of him, grabbing him just as tight as you had moments prior. It wasn’t just Siegfried following Odette off a ledge. Spencer felt he would, too, if you asked him. Was this the caress of love?

He had to force himself to watch the stage as the lovers reunited in the afterlife, and then you’re letting go of his hand and clapping with a brilliant smile on your face. He claps, too, but he’s only looking at you– throwing silent praises to you. 

When the rows start to clear out, you feel better. The performance successfully gets your mind off your worries concerning Spencer, and as the two of you walk to his car, you’re linking your arm with him. “Can I share a fun fact?” 

You can feel the soft shake of Spencer’s diaphragm against your forearm as he chuckles, “When have I ever turned that down?” 

You shrug a little in response to his rhetorical question, “When Soviet leaders died in the eighties, the government would play recorded performances of Swan Lake on television broadcasts, unintentionally making the public associate the ballet with the deaths of their leaders and political instability.” You give him a silly little face of mock surprise at the end of it, and he’s laughing. 

Spencer leans closer to you under the parking lot street lamps, his car coming into view. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

You frown as you pull away slightly to look up at him, your feet slowing slightly, “You already knew that?” 

Spencer lets out a faux sigh of disappointment as he gives you a solemn nod of confirmation. You shake your head in disbelief as you let go of his arm and walk toward the passenger seat. Spencer follows you, intending to open your door for you, but you don’t seem to notice how close he is as you pull on the locked car door. “Move for me,” When Spencer says it, you feel your legs unintentionally becoming jelly at the tone of his voice: soft, deep, and cracking slightly. 

You step aside for him as he unlocks his car and opens the door for you. You give him an affectionate grin as you slide into the passenger seat and watch Spencer round the front of his car to the driver’s side. You had to give him credit where credit was due; Spencer Reid could be damn charming when he wanted to be. 

On the ride home, he continues with his persistent pursuit of unconscious charm, “Maybe we should go see Sleeping Beauty, or maybe Coppéila if you want to watch something comical?” 

You giggle softly at his suggestions as you give him a skeptical glance to the side, “I didn’t know you liked ballet so much,” 

Spencer’s cheeks feel hot, “I don’t,” he admits in a raw voice. 

You turn your head to stare at him with a gentle expression as Spencer’s hands tighten around the wheel, knuckles turning white. You observe him carefully as his bottom lip is nervously drawn into his mouth for a second, his eyes flickering over to you as he flashes you a meek smile. It feels like a sick joke, Spencer being in love with you. It was exhilarating, euphoric, excruciating, and unbearable all at once. You had already made the self-declaration that you would keep your feelings to yourself and decided that you couldn’t let yourself be happy with Spencer– not after what you had done to Josh. The guilt ate away at you as you stared at him, a lame ‘oh’ falling from your lips as you swallowed hard. 

“I just,” he began, “I mean–” he sighs out with frustration, “I just like going places with you.” He settles as he glances from the road to you, his grip on the wheel relaxing. You smile and nod in agreement. 

“Me too,” you whisper, and the conversation dies off for a second. 

Spencer rectifies the situation the only way he knows how "Coppélia was actually based on a dark fantasy about a man’s disastrous infatuation with a life-like doll called Der Sandmann, quite literally translated as The Sandman, by E.T.A Hoffman.” 

“Oh, so Pygmalion and Galatea.” 

“Yes! And Pinocchio, Frankenstein, Herbert West-Reanimator, My Fair Lady-” 

You hold up a hand, “Wait, My Fair Lady?” You question with delighted interest. 

“The play it was based on is called Pygmalion. Henry Higgins shapes Eliza Doolittle into a lady, and he falls in love with her.” 

The way Spencer says it sounds so direct, never demeaning or snobbish, you nod a little at the connection. “You ever listen to My Fair Lady?” 

Spencer opens his mouth to affirm that he has, but he falters. It seems like something his mother would have liked him to listen to with her, but they never have. “No,” his voice was quiet. 

You gasp and point over to him teasingly, “Uncultured,” 

“It’s one thing! I’m plenty cultured! The play Pygmalion covers-” 

“I know, but you haven’t heard of Julie Andrews!” 

“I have! Penelope made me watch all of The Sound of Music-” He’s cut off by the sound of you giggling softly in the passenger seat. “You’re messing with me.” 

“Just a little,” You snicker beside him, relaxing as you watch Spencer take the familiar turns toward your apartment. You stare at the passing streets as you let out a content sigh, eyes closing slowly. Silently reflecting on the night, pushing mini-panic attacks aside, it’s the first time you’ve felt so serene in a long time. “Thank you for tonight, Spence.” 

He beams at your thanks and mutters a sweet, “Thank you for allowing me to take you out,” 

You roll your head against the seat as he pulls into a spot, “As if I’d ever say no to you.” You whisper back to him, catching a love-struck look from him that has you sitting up straight, grabbing your bag, and opening your car door. 

You shouldn’t be surprised when Spencer gets out of his car and locks it. “Let me walk you up,” he insists gently. 

“I’m okay-” 

“Please,” His words are accompanied by his hazel eyes, both begging you so sweetly that you find yourself nodding wordlessly. 

This time, the silence sticks as Spencer walks by your side to your apartment complex. It’s a short walk from the parking lot to the second floor, and soon, the two of you stand outside apartment 240. You fidget with your keys slowly as you turn around to face him; you watch him awkwardly shuffle on his feet– seemingly unsure of what to do with himself, you were sure. 

“Well, this is me.” You feel stupid saying it, but you can’t stop yourself. You knew this wasn’t a date, so why does it feel like the end of one? 

Spencer licks his lips nervously and softly says, “Yeah, it is.” 

You give him a faint smile but can’t find the strength to step back from him and open your door. You should get inside. A voice in you is screaming Go inside! Don’t you dare! But you don’t seem to listen as you tilt your head to the side. “I had a great time,” 

Spencer grins and nods, his eyes looking at your door for a second before gazing back into yours. “Any notable moments?” 

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. “Holding your hand through the first act was lovely,” Fuck you!

Spencer seems to perk up slightly, his heart beating faster as he takes a small step closer to you. “It was lovely?” He questions you carefully, noticing how your pupils dilate a little under his gaze. 

“I thought so. It was very” You swallow as you search for some smidgen of confidence “Charming. You’ve been charming all night, actually.” 

“I think you’re the only person in the world who thinks that,” He teases softly, a twinkle in his hazel eyes as he takes another step closer. 

You shake your head, a giddy grin spreading on your face. “No, a lady at the restaurant thought we made a pretty charming couple.” 

“Ah,” He holds up two fingers, “So two people.” 

You give him a sweet chuckle and hold two fingers with him. “And your mom, maybe, " you say as you hold up three fingers. 

“I should make a list,” 

“Your favorite hobby.” You say in a joking whisper. His body was close enough to touch now, and you were frozen– stuck between wanting to get inside and wanting to touch him in any way he’d let you. Your eyes kept trekking down to his feet, watching as they took careful steps closer before looking up at his eyes again. And for the first time all night, you let them dip down to his lips. 

Spencer feels his breath catch in his throat, his body already hyper-aware of your presence. He’s silently debating over closing the gap between the two of you, and he fears that seeing that– a physical sign that you want him the way he wants you, confirms that he should. Only, there's the matter of how. He wants to be romantic and bold. He just wants to grab your waist and pull you in, but he can’t. 

It’s you that initiates something, “The longest kiss ever recorded was fifty-eight hours,” 

Spencer feels like laughing, and he does—a small chuckle escapes his lips as he finds the courage to reach for your waist. When his fingers wrap around it, he gently pulls you toward him, his chest bumping against yours for a second. “Let’s not compete with that,” He whispers to you gently as one of his hands cups the side of your face, his nose bumping against yours slightly as you smile wide. The witty comeback that attempts to leave your lips doesn’t stand a chance as Spencer’s lips capture yours. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean up to get a better angle in the kiss. His lips are soft and smooth as they press against yours. He pulls away a little, but you reconnect your lips quickly. Spencer slowly presses into you, the hand on your waist pressing down in a way that sends electricity up your spine. 

Your hands reach for his tie, pulling him closer with a soft motion. The kiss deepens at that. A shaky breath can be heard from Spencer as he moves the hand that was cupping your cheek to the nape of your neck, his fingertips grazing your hair. 

You let out a soft hum as you pull at his bottom lip, pulling away momentarily just to kiss him again. Your breathing gets slightly heavier as you tentatively trace your tongue against his bottom lip. As Spencer slowly invites your tongue into his mouth, a door slams shut down the hall, and you pull away. 

Your eyes open as your hands leave Spencer’s tie and fly to your lips. You stutter gently as Spencer slowly pulls his hands away from you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he whispers, “Did I-”

You shake your head before he can finish, and you remember the keys still in your hand, holding them up, “No, I-” You stutter over your words gently as you turn to unlock the door, “I- I have to, I can’t,” you manage a shaky sigh, glancing over your shoulder at him, “Goodnight.” 

Spencer watches your eyes look away from his, slipping into your apartment before he can get a word in. He stares at the numbers on your door for a second, feeling a dreadful pit forming in his stomach. “Goodnight.” His voice is timid as he speaks to the closed door and turns, walking back to his car alone. 

Day Two Hundred and Fifty

Spencer has been out of it all week. He isn’t sleeping much or reading as much, and now, he’s lagging with this geographical profile. He excelled in this area, and he needed to focus on it. He needed to stop worrying about why you haven’t returned his calls all week—well, for the past four days, thirty-seven minutes—Focus!

He sighed as he traced a street with his fingers, a marker in the other, and focused on the previous dump sights. He mutters quietly as he outlines a district on the map, leaning back slightly as he lets himself get lost in his work. This feels good—almost calming. 

JJ touches his arm, indicating that she is talking to him, and he hasn’t heard a single word. “I’m sorry,” He sighs as he looks at her.

JJ shakes her head a little, a silent way of letting him know that she doesn’t take offense. “Rossi and Morgan just found another victim.” Her fingers point to a location inside the outlined area on the map, and Spencer makes a note. If he can focus on this case, he feels they might have a profile before the UnSub’s next kill. 

Day Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine 

It had been two weeks since Spencer last saw you. Since you last spoke to him, touched him, or kissed him. He felt like he was losing one of his best friends and someone who could be the love of his life all at once. It was devastating. He had occasionally been short with the team, always quick with his apology and briefly explaining that he was going through something personal.

He didn’t want to be this tall, awkward ball of misery. He hated this feeling. At the moment, fourteen days ago, you seemed to be happy to kiss him. It seemed like the fatal mistake that was killing his relationship with you. He had tried to keep his calls maxed out one a day, three a week. Instead, he called you seven times in two weeks. He was starting to feel desperate as he listened to your voicemail message for the seventh time. He sighed as he looked around the BAU break room. 

“Hey, uh, it’s me. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk… again.” He repeated parts of his last message as he groaned softly before whispering a gentle “I’m really sorry” into the phone. He hangs up in a hurry, seeing Derek rounding the corner. 

His phone clatters on the table as Derek gives Spencer an odd stare. It’s a stare that says, ‘To-talk-to-pretty-boy-to-not-talk-to-pretty-boy-that-is-the-question.’

Derek decides that he should talk to Pretty Boy after all. “Does the boy genius have any plans for the weekend?” He decides that casual conversation might be the best way to get Spencer to open up. 

Spencer shakes his head, dragging his gaze from Derek back to his phone on the table. Derek lets out a hum as he stares at Spencer’s phone. “Waiting on a call from someone?” 

“No, yes, I-” Spencer sighs as he slumps a little in the chair, “I don’t know.”

“Is that what’s been bugging you for the past two weeks? Expecting an important call?” Derek asks as he fills his coffee mug up. Spencer gives him a little annoyed look that slowly melts into one of uncertainty. “Reid,” Derek says his name with a grin, taking the seat across from Spencer. “JJ caught you mumbling something about some ballet two weeks ago in Seattle, and you got defensive when she asked why you were talking about the ballet. Then, when Hotch asked you what was happening in Tampa, you got defensive again.” 

He stares at Spencer with a kind smile, “If you need to get something off your chest, I’m happy to listen.” 

Spencer finds himself chewing on his bottom lip as he slowly nods, “I know. I’ve been avoiding talking about it with the team because I,” he pauses, looking at Derek. “I think I messed up.” It’s the best he can manage. He doesn’t feel like opening up when he knows he should, and he wants to be patient with his feelings. He wanted you to reach out on your own time, but he didn’t want to keep with this silent torture he kept experiencing day after day. 

Derek gave him a slightly concerned look, “Messed up how? Something with a case or worse?” Spencer stares at him for a second as he tries to read between the lines of Derek’s question. Once it comes to him, he quickly shakes his head ‘no,’ which makes Derek smile. “Is it..” He trails off for a second, his eyes trailing to Spencer’s phone on the table, and it clicks, “No…” 

Spencer feels his cheeks flush as he frowns at Derek’s Cheshire grin. He’s ready for some mandatory teasing when he hears JJ’s voice, “No, what?” She questions Derek with interest as she grabs a bottle of water. 

Spencer desperately shakes his head at Derek, but he’s already spilling what he thinks he knows, “I believe that Mr. Pretty Boy has found a Pretty Girl.” 

JJ releases an excited gasp and walks over to the table. “No way,” She mutters as she stares down at Spencer’s slightly red face, “Is this why you’ve been so weird lately? Trouble in paradise?” 

“It’s not like that,” Spencer retorts softly as he pulls at a loose thread on his button-up. 

“How’d you mess up?” Derek cuts to the chase as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Spencer looks between JJ and Derek as he struggles to find the right words. His problems surrounding romance are sparse and, previously, tragic. He’s not sure how to go about this. “I, Uhm, might have kissed her.” 

“Kissed who?” JJ presses. 

Spencer looks at Derek, “Do you remember that friend of mine? The one Penelope and you met-” 

“In the bar, yeah. I thought she had a boyfriend?” Derek’s brows furrow. 

Spencer scrunches up his nose a little at the mention of Josh and sighs, “They broke up, and she had plans to see Swan Lake with him two weeks ago as an early anniversary date. She was going to cancel, but I offered to go with her so she didn’t miss out on it.” He continued slowly, looking at both of their faces for some show of emotion. “And at the end of the night, we kissed.” 

Derek sighs, glancing at JJ, who seems to be just as confused as he is. “Kid, that’s a great thing. How is that a mess up?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer groans, “It all happened so fast, and she looked… perturbed. I think I messed up, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of her ever since, but..” His eyes look at his phone. 

“Maybe she wasn’t ready for it,” JJ offers with a sad smile. 

Derek nods, pointing a little at JJ, “Could be, but you should have seen her with him. All smiles and heart eyes for Reid.” 

Spencer frowns at Derek before looking at JJ pleadingly, “What do I do to fix it?” 

JJ winces a little, twisting her lips, “Spence, it's not something you can control.” 

“I know, I just can’t,” Spencer pauses for a second, looking away. “I thought she wanted to kiss me.” 

Derek laughs a little, earring a slight glare from JJ before he holds up his hands. “Okay, describe it for us.” 

Spencer snaps his head toward Derek. “What?” His voice sounds slightly higher than usual. “No.” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Just the lead-up,” he explains further, moving his fingers in a circle through the air. 

“No,” Spencer insists again. 

JJ joins this time, “Maybe he’s onto something, come on.” 

Spencer hesitates as he considers it, ultimately deciding it’s worth a shot despite being humiliated. “I walked her up to her door,” JJ nods along, silently giving Spencer some points for being a gentleman in her books. “She said she had a great time, so I asked if any notable moments in the evening stood out to her.” 

Spencer didn’t want to say that he had held your hand through the first act of Swan Lake, but “She said that holding my hand through the first act was lovely.” Derek’s eyebrows raise at that, not expecting something like that from Spencer. 

“And she said I was charming. We briefly joked back and forth, and then it got quiet.” Spencer avoids eye contact, staring holes into the table beneath his fidgeting hands. 

After a beat of silence, JJ whispers, “And then?” 

“She said,” he smiles a little, his eyes still downcast. “That, well, the longest kiss ever recorded was fifty-eight hours long.” 

“Not what you said, what she said.” Derek jokes softly, Spencer’s eyes flicking up to him with a confused gaze. 

“That is what she said,” 

“Oh my god,” JJ covers her lips feebly to hide her smile. 

Spencer can feel the heat reaching the tips of his ears as Derek laughs. “She did!” Spencer whines. He rolls his eyes a little as the laughter continues. “I said that we shouldn’t compete with that, and we kissed. Happy?” 

JJ smiles openly now and nods, her hands moving as she talks. “I think that’s promising.” Spencer sends her a glare, thinking that she is joking at first, but after seeing the earnest look on JJ’s face, he calms down. “Maybe she’s just surprised,” JJ suggests with a convinced nod. 

“It doesn’t make sense, though. Why be so forward with wanting to kiss you just to ignore you after?” Derek's eyes narrow. 

JJ scoffs softly, “She’s scared of her own feelings, Derek.” 

Spencer repeats his question from earlier now, “So what can I do to fix it?” 

Derek and JJ are quiet for a second before JJ says, “We should talk to Penelope.” 

Spencer wasn’t exactly thrilled as two of his closest friends dragged him down the halls to Penelope’s office. Nor was he thrilled to repeat what he had said in the breakroom to JJ and Derek a second time. Now he’s stuck in an office chair with three of his closest friends throwing suggestions on what he should do on the clock when they should all be doing paperwork. 

“Send her a gift basket!” 

“I’m not trying to bribe her into being my girlfriend, Penelope.” 

Penelope coos softly, “You want her to be your girlfriend?” 

Spencer lets his head fall into his hands, leaving her question unanswered as JJ jumps onto the suggestion train. “Write her a love letter.” 

Derek lets out a breathy chuckle, “Just go to her apartment,” 

Penelope squeals in agreement, “Yes! A big declaration of love.” 

Spencer was sure that big declarations of love weren’t his thing, and he thought he fell into the range of quiet love. Whispers of adoration? Maybe. Annotated novels? Absolutely. Watching movies out of his comfort zone? Done. Acting out of his comfort zone? He could hardly imagine holding a boombox over his head and screaming your name. But he was running out of options. He had stuck in his comfort zone, and you were ignoring him. “How big of a declaration?” 

It was late. There was so much to do. You were pacing back and forth in your apartment with a book in hand, fingers thumbing at the pages occasionally. Soft music played from your laptop speakers as you ended the second week of ignoring one, Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You had listened to all of his voicemails, some multiple times, but had managed to resist the urge to call him back for two weeks. When your heart got the best of you, you did what you were doing now–listening to variations of dad rock, pop, indie, oldies, classical, anything to drown out the urge to call him back. 

The books were a new addition, as you had given up on making online private playlists last Sunday. 

After holding a conference call with Molly, Sabrina, Christina, and anyone else who would listen, you made a joint decision to keep your feelings to yourself. And by joint decision, you meant ignoring their advice. Sabrina brought up the point that if Josh could physically cheat on you and be happy, you could be happy, too. The rest of your friends agreed in one form or another with that, but you just… couldn’t. You were terrified. 

Josh had left his mark on you. He had cut deep gashes in your self-esteem. In the moments where you weren’t struggling with thinking you were too much, burdensome, or taxing to those you love, you were fretting over the idea that you were a terrible person. Sometimes, in moments of respite, you would reminisce on your time spent with Spencer. 

You wanted to know his opinion, and in another life, you would seek him out and ask for it—the phantom pains of past love gone wrong ghosted over your heart and cursed you. 

Maybe you could be happy with someone else who wasn’t Spencer. Is there anyone dead or alive as good as Spencer Reid? Your thumbs falter on the edge of the page as the thought crosses your mind, your eyes glancing over at the time. 

Setting your book face down on your coffee table, you glide across the room to the lights– you can read and ignore Spencer in bed. As you switch off the kitchen light, a soft knock on your door startles you. Tilting your head around the wall to stare at your front door skeptically, you wait for another knock. 

Two more knocks make you rush to your front door, leaning in to look into the peephole. Your breath catches your throat as you see Spencer Reid rocking back and forth on his heels on the other side. “Go away, Spencer!” You yell through the door, hand holding the locked doorknob cautiously. 

You watch as his face falls into a heartbreaking expression, “Let me just talk to you,” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“Please,” His eyes travel up to the peephole, his eyes somehow managing to make you breathless through the door. “I miss my best friend.” 

You don’t say anything to that, because you miss him too. You watch him silently. His maroon tie against that white button-up reminds you of how you grabbed him two weeks ago– hungry, desperate, starved. 

His eyes cast down to his hands for a second, his mouth opening and closing multiple times until he manages to get out, “Do you remember the first day we met? I helped you carry your groceries, and you asked me if I believed in fate.” His voice sounds shaky and muffled as your fingers play with the lock silently. 

“I told you I don’t, I still don’t.” He stammers softly, a hand combing through his curls roughly. You give up on watching him through the peephole, listening with your forehead pressed against the door. 

After a few seconds of fumbling with his words, he steadies himself. “What I’m trying to say is,” he stares at the door, scared to death you aren’t listening. He gingerly continues, “I don’t care if you need me to believe in fate, love at first sight, soulmates, or predetermined endings– if you need me to, I will.” His legs feel weak at the knees, “If Zeus split my soul in two, please be the other half. If there is a god, if someone created me for anyone, let it be you. If it was fate for me to meet you two-hundred and fifty-nine days ago, let it be fate. If it means I get to love you, I’ll believe in any theology, ideology, or philosophy you need me to.” 

He couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. “If you don’t want me, or if you don’t feel the same, I’ll never bring it up again. I’ll go back to being nothing more than your friend, no questions asked, and I’ll be happy to do it.” His chest rises and falls heavily as he finishes, staring holes at your door. He’s sure you’ll ignore him further, make him walk back to his car alone again, or worse, open the door and laugh at his confession. He feels all of his anxieties rising in his throat as he goes to say something else when he hears the rattle of the chain on your door. 

A few more clicks, and the door is swinging open. Spencer sucks in a breath as he catches the sight of you in your pajamas, staring at him a little tongue-tied. How were you supposed to follow that? You stare up at him in silent awe as deep, honeyed eyes meet yours for the first time in weeks. As you stare into his eyes, you realize he meant every word. 

Your eyes fall from his and take the rest of him in, looking from his head to his shoes and back up again. “How many times did you practice that on the way here?” 

“Three,” 

You crack a slow smile at that and nod slowly, not knowing what to say next. You do the only thing you can think of, act. Your left hand reaches up slowly, your feet moving in tandem as you hook your fingers in Spencer’s collar carefully. Your gaze locks on his as you slowly pull him closer to your height, pulling him inches from your face. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to believe in anything you, he didn’t need fate or soulmates, none of it mattered anymore, not with him right here in front of you. You focus on how his nose brushes awkwardly against yours for a second and how you can hear his breathing coming out quicker. 

You close your eyes before kissing him, pressing your lips to his softly, timidly. Despite his confession– his begging– you can’t help but feel like it’s all too good to be true. But then, he’s kissing you back. His lips move against yours with the same nervousness, his hands reaching up to cup your face. 

You smile into the kiss as you feel his large palms on your face, making Spencer pull away with a slightly concerned expression for a second, wondering if he’d done something to make you laugh at him. As he stares at your blissful smile, he quickly realizes that you aren’t laughing at him at all. You’re happy, effervescent even, shaking your head at him pulling away. 

He doesn’t make you wait long as he kisses you again, this time with a slight increase in force. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine as he hears the way you hum into the kiss, the sound making him feel desperate to hear more. 

The two of you stand in your doorway like that for a second, kisses getting deeper and feverish as you pull Spencer to walk with you into your apartment blind. You stumble for a second as you walk backward into your apartment, your lips still locked with his. He pulls away a little at that, tilting your head up with his hands on your cheeks as his thumbs gently rub a single circle against the soft skin. 

“Are you real?” He whispers, inches away from your face. 

You give him a breathless laugh and nod, hands moving to his wrist, your fingers gently tracing the veins on his wrists absentmindedly. Spencer’s foot searches for the edge of the door to kick it closed, but he slips a little and looks at you with soft, doe eyes of apology. 

Pulling away from him carefully, you shut your front door and lock it. You don’t know where to go from here. You hadn’t thought about what you’d do once you had him inside. Music is still playing on your phone, and you can hear a soft, raspy chuckle behind you as Spencer playfully asks. “Is this Brahms?” 

When did this even come on? You sigh as you walk over to your phone to turn the music off, “I missed you too, you know.” You admit into the silent room, your eyes avoiding his. 

“I know,” He replies, and you can hear his footsteps getting closer. Your gaze stays fixed on the floor, looking up in surprise at the feeling of his hands grabbing your waist tentatively. Turning your body to look up, you give him a nervous smile. Spencer’s nerves are shot all over the place as he swallows down his anxieties. “I don’t mind waiting. If you aren’t ready or need more time, I’ve waited for you so long, what’s-” 

“No,” Your voice comes out louder than intended before you clear your throat. “No, I don’t need more time. I’m tired of not forgiving myself. I deserve to be happy, too. I’ve already spent so much time denying myself that.” Your body relaxes in his hands, your chest squeezing pleasantly as you move to be chest to chest with him again. “No more wasting time.” 

Spencer studies your eyes as you speak, searching for some hint of uncertainty, but finds none. He licks his lips nervously, eyes dipping to your lips quickly, “Did you know that men initiate more than seventy percent of kisses?” 

Taking this as an obvious sign that Spencer wants to kiss you again, you move your hands to rest on his shoulders. “Don’t have the exact number?”

“Seventy-nine point seventeen percent.” His voice raises an octave at the feeling of your hands holding onto his shoulders, your body pressing against his gently. 

You nod, half-listening, as you look at his lips, one of your hands sliding up the front of his neck as you hold his chin. The feather-like touch of your thumb on his bottom lip makes him feel dizzy as you whisper, “That’s nice.” 

Spencer’s lips are parted slightly as he gives you a weak-sounding ‘uh-huh’ as he participates in a statistic, gently brushing your thumb away to kiss you again. 

The start of this kiss isn’t nearly as tentative or timid as the last one. His head tilts to the side as he presses his lips against yours, a little needy now as your hands move to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the feeling, how you so readily deepen the kiss, how intense this feels. 

Your movements sync with Spencer’s as you kiss each other with fervor. Your knees feel a little weak from a mix of anxiety, excitement, and arousal. The feeling makes your hands hold the back of Spencer’s neck tighter. Your body flush against his as the two of you kiss in the middle of your living room. 

An experimental movement from Spencer earns a sharp inhale from you as his tongue slowly brushes against your bottom lip. Your lips part into the kiss as he slides his tongue into the kiss with surprising skill. It doesn’t feel messy; instead, it’s incredibly controlled. You silently wonder how much practice Spencer has with French kissing and with who? 

The thought is secondary to a terrifyingly primal feeling of arousal that zips up and across your spine as you feel him start to suck your tongue lightly into his mouth. You press against him a little harder, causing the poor man to stumble and lose focus, his skilled lips stopping for a second—a slight pull away to check if you’re alright before he kisses you again. 

Now it's messy—an excellent messy. Not a slobbering mess that you want to pull away from, but a slightly erratic move against your lips that lets you know that he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him. 

Your feet stumble backward, the familiar route to your bedroom in the back of your mind as you try to pull Spencer with you. He follows but reluctantly pulls away, breathless, as he stops short of the doorway to your bedroom. His lips open and close nervously as he catches his breath. “It's not that I don’t, I want to, not that I’m expecting us, I just,” He closes his mouth, swallowing hard as he tries to make head or tails of the situation. “I don’t want you to think I’m only here for…” He trails off, his cheeks growing red as he flicks his hazel eyes over to your bedroom and then back to you. “Sex.” 

It’s terrible because you want to laugh. Spencer has been nervous around you before, but never like this. You’d seen him trip over his words countless times, but this time, watching him explain his intentions toward you, how sweet he looked as he explained himself. How did you go this long in your friendship with him without jumping his bones?

You press a reassuring hand to his arm, “I didn’t think you were.” You watch his shoulders relax a little, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, just at the moment, I th-” 

“No!” he almost yells, the tips of his ears turning a little pink now. “No, I want to.” He reiterates, “I, well, I, Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Staring up into his eyes, you realize what he’s asking: Is this just a rebound from Josh? Is this the hormones talking? Will this mean anything after tonight? There was unspoken communication, but you had mulled over those questions for the past two weeks. 

Their answers were what scared you the most. It frightened you how ready you were to leave all your memories of Josh in the gutter and start something with one of your best friends. The scary part was how easy it was to want, care for, and miss him. You gave him a slow nod, “I’m not going anywhere you can’t follow.” 

Spencer’s worried gaze softened as the edges of his lips quirked up into a slight smile, leaning closer, “Stuck with you? Forever?” He sucks in air through his teeth dramatically, his eyes flicking around your face cautiously. 

You roll your eyes at his playful tone, “M’tired of talking,” Your lips close the gap before he can say anything back. 

Spencer doesn’t protest as he kisses you back—soft, slow, sensual movements against your lips. Pulling away here and there just to kiss you again, his lips gently pulling your bottom lip whenever he pulls away. You graze your teeth against his bottom lip, careful not to bite him as you cup his face, his large hands holding onto your waist. 

His hands press down on your hips, firmly keeping you in place as he pushes against you slowly. His chest presses against yours, his hands start to pull your hips closer to his. A soft groan can be heard, and you can’t pinpoint who makes the sound as your mind becomes hazy from the way he kisses you. 

You almost don’t register that he’s led you towards your bed. The feeling of your bed hitting the back of your legs makes you register that you walked with him to your bed. You pull away, inching back onto your bed carefully as soft panting fills the dimly lit room, staring up at him from your bed. 

You watch as he kicks off his shoes before crawling onto the bed, looming above you as you slowly slide your body up the bed. He’s pressing a hand near your head as the other brushes a stray hair from your eyes, his lips leaving fleeting kisses across your face, slowly trailing down to your neck. 

His kisses start to get deeper once he passes the area of your jaw, gently sucking on the area just below your ear before letting the sensitive skin go and dragging his lips lower to repeat the act. 

Soft, pleasured sighs escape your lips as he kisses and lightly sucks on the sensitive skin that is your neck. One of your hands reaches for his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as he sucks on your collarbone. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight on the bed is trailing down your chest slowly, reaching the hem of your shirt as he tentatively slips the tips of his fingers under it carefully. “That okay?” he pulls away from your collarbone to look down at you. 

You let out a sweet ‘mhm’ before you smile up at him. Spencer smiles back as he leans in to kiss your lips again. Your lips part almost immediately so he can slip his skilled tongue into your mouth, and he does just that. 

His tongue carefully traces yours as his hand slowly starts to trail up your stomach, his touch making you shiver as his slightly cold hands inch toward your unsupported breasts, gasping softly against his lips at the feeling of his fingers slowly cupping your right breast. The movement of his tongue against yours slows for a second as his thumb traces around the taut bud of your nipple, gently rubbing and circling patterns until he earns a little whine from you, 

His lips pull away from yours, but he stays close, brushing against yours as he speaks. “Good?” 

You let out a breathless “Very.” before he repeats the pattern, his index finger joining now as he gently pinches the aroused bud. A shaky sigh escapes your lips, your lips trembling lightly against Spencer’s as he watches you, pulling his head back to get a better look. 

His eyes study your face—the way your nose sometimes scrunches up in pleasure, how dilated your pupils are when you look at him, and his favorite, how you gently pull your bottom into your mouth with your teeth in a vain attempt to hold in your quiet moans.

He watches as you give him an embarrassed expression. “You’re staring,” your voice is a sweet whisper, eliciting a shiver that crawls up his spine. 

He looks away with a mutter of an apology, giving you a quick smile. His fingers slip away from your chest to slide down to the hem of your shirt. He looks into your eyes as he fiddles with the fabrics. “Can I see you?” 

A quick nod from you gives him your answer as he quickly pulls your shirt over your head, his eyes quick to trail over your face down to your exposed chest. He watches the way your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as he slowly moves his head down to place gentle kisses on your collarbone. 

Kissing a trail down to the valley between your breasts, he slowly makes his way over to your left breast, his eyes looking up at you as he gently places his lips around the bud of your nipple. 

Your eyes watch him as he gently flicks his tongue against the sensitive peak before sucking on it lightly. Your mouth falls open as you watch him, breathing heavily as you feel his free hand reaching up to play with your other nipple. 

Quiet, breathy sounds are all Spencer can hear now– a gasp here, a shaky sigh there, and occasionally a closed-mouth moan. He likes watching the way your head falls back as he adds a little more pressure with his tongue, rubbing wet circles around your erect nipples. 

He feels like he’s moving too fast and taking too long simultaneously. He wants to hear you, he wants you to relax under his touch, and he wants to take his time with you. On the other hand, he’s dreamt about this moment more times than he can count. He wants to tell you that it’s even better than what he imagined, but the idea sounds stupid, given he’s only sucking on your nipples right now. He hasn’t even been inside you, and he doesn't want to risk sounding inexperienced right now. 

He decides that pleasing you further speaks louder than words as he slides his hand on your other breast down your chest slowly, creeping toward the waistband of your pajama pants. His fingers trace along the edge of your pants as his lips keep sucking. 

You squirm under him as you move your hands down to start pulling your bottoms off as fast as you can manage, accidentally forcing Spencer’s lips off your chest in the process. He watches you briefly, laughing softly as he helps you out of your pajama pants before tossing them to the side.  

Spencer’s eyes focus on your thighs, his fingers tracing slow paths from your outer right thigh to your inner thigh. He is trying to focus on the sound of your breathing, testing out areas with his fingers to see which one excited you the most based on the hitching of your breath when he touches it. 

“Higher,” Your voice makes him jump a little, a small smile forming on your face as he does so. He swallows and grins, moving his fingers higher now inches from the edge of your underwear. 

“Higher?” He questions playfully, his deep caramel eyes looking into yours as he watches you nod. His fingers glide over to your underwear, pressing against the center, his fingers touching your folds through the fabric. 

You sigh softly as his fingers rub up and down the fabric, pressing in harder with each stroke. “You’re so pretty,” Spencer’s voice sounds strained, earning him a weak smile from you. 

“Just pretty?” You moan quietly as he slips his hand into your underwear suddenly, the feeling making you gasp. 

Spencer’s index and middle fingers do most of the exploring as he stares at you, “No, not just pretty. Gorgeous, beautiful, captivating, astounding.” His fingers find your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves teasingly slow. 

You’re breathing heavily through your nose now as you move your hips against his fingers to let him know it feels good. “Is,” you relax your shoulders carefully. “Is astounding a look I pull off well?” 

“Very well,” he answers honestly, even though he knows you’re joking. His fingers begin to rub slow, tight circles as he leans in to kiss you again. The kiss swallows up any moans you start to let out as Spencer’s fingers make electric arousal build up in your lower abdomen, your legs feeling weak as you spread them further. 

Spencer hums against your lips as he quickly deepens the kiss, his hips absentmindedly grinding against your thigh as his fingers move away from your clit to yank your underwear down. You help him, kicking them away with your eyes closed, your tongue dragging along Spencer’s. 

His middle finger teasingly drags your wetness down to your entrance, pressing against the area quickly before hesitating. He pulls away slightly from your lips, but you’re already answering his question before he can ask it. “Yes,” You whisper against his lips, moving your hips down against his finger. 

He lets out a breathy laugh as he slowly pushes his index finger into you, his own eyes almost rolling back into his head as he hears the shaky moan you let out. He’s quick to chase that high as his fingers curl inside of you, searching for that spot that will make you let out more sounds for him to enjoy. 

Your brows furrow as your eyes flutter closed, chasing the needy feeling inside of you that is too desperate to wait for him to find your g-spot on his own. Your hips grind down, guiding him slightly until his fingers curl against the slightly rough patch of nerves inside you. A sharp gasp, followed by a breathy chuckle, leaves your lips as you open your eyes to look at Spencer. “Right there,” 

He’s always been so good at following instructions, so he knows not to change much regarding his fingers, curling and dragging against that sweet spot inside of you slowly. His lips kiss your collarbone softly, kissing up to your ear. “Wanna hear you,”

How could you deny such a sweet voice? Especially when that sweet voice belongs to the man you’ve been pining over for weeks. It also helps when he has his fingers inside of you. Your lips parted as you let out a soft groan, followed by a shaky gasp of air.

Spencer’s finger picks up the pace gradually, going faster and rougher with every sound from your lips. A cry of pleasure? Faster. A loud moan? Rougher. You wondered what sound you needed to make for him to add a second finger. 

It wasn’t a sound so much as simply having to tell him, “Add another finger,” You breathe out between moans, and Spencer is quick to push his index finger into the waves of pleasure he’s causing throughout your body. 

It’s not long before your hips are raising slightly, loud whines and groans escaping your lips as he brings you closer to your release with every curl and drag of his fingers. You could feel Spencer’s breath hot against the shell of your ear now as your eyebrows furrowed tightly, focusing on every feeling he gave you. 

He’s relentless, listening to how your breathing hitches and moans increase with specific tempos, learning the kind of pressure you like simply based on sound. Has a man ever done that before? You weren’t sure; all you knew was that you were getting closer to an orgasm. You wanted to be hopeful and think it would be the first of many.

Short gasps were escaping your lips as your head tilted back into the mattress, “That’s it.” Spencer’s lips are on your exposed neck now, gently sucking, kissing sweetly against your pulse point as you inch closer to your climax. “Sound so good.” His voice is a little muffled, not to mention hard to hear over the sounds of your moans, but it’s making your hips stutter as they grind against his fingers. 

Then you’re crashing hard. Your body tenses, shaking under him, you cry out as your orgasm rips through you. Small whimpers and moans are spilling from your lips as your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping them until your knuckles turn white.

A groan leaves his lips as he watches you. It's a sight he wants to commit to memory. He wants to close his eyes and draw it if he can, memorize every shudder, every stutter of your hips, the way your eyes open to look at him afterward– pupils’ dilated and shimmering under a haze of lust. 

You whine a little when he pulls his fingers out of you, and Spencer wonders how he has so much self-control. He’s about to ask you how you’re feeling, to check in on you, but then you're grabbing his wrist.

You’re dragging his hand to your lips terribly slow, and Spencer feels his breathing stop for a second as he watches you drag his index and middle fingers into your mouth to suck yourself off them. His next breath comes out as a stuttering mess, watching as your tongue slides between his fingers, your eyes staring into his before fluttering closed. 

It’s his turn to whine when you’re done sucking his fingers clean. He was already painfully hard while he was fingering you, but now he feels like he might burst into flames if he cannot have you. “Please,” He whispers, his hips grinding against your outer thigh timidly. 

A part of you almost feels bad for him; he feels so hard against your outer thigh, and he still has all his clothes on. He has to be desperate– the thought makes your mouth water. 

Your hands are quick to help him out of his pants, undoing his button and zipper. As he pulls the pants down his legs, you’re sliding your hands under his shirt. You hum with soft desire as you feel the curves and dips of muscles on his surprisingly toned chest. He shivers at the feeling of your fingers dragging along his chest, inching closer to the waistband of his boxers. 

Your fingers stop before reaching his boxers, slipping out from under his shirt, and going for his tie. A tie already loose and halfway forgotten. You slip your fingers around the maroon tie, pulling it off quickly and with no complaint from Spencer as you do so. Your eyes trail up to meet his, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Spencer could feel your fingers thumbing at the buttons on his shirt, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from your eyes. He’s so captivated by your eyes on his that he completely misses what you say. “What?” His voice comes out breathy as you undo the second button on his shirt. 

You let out a soft chuckle, looking away from his eyes to peak at his partially exposed chest. “I asked if it would be okay to leave some hickeys on your chest,” 

Spencer’s breathing hitches in his throat as he lets out a bashful “Yes.” He can hear another laugh leave your lips as his eyes trail down to your fingers working on the last button on his shirt, how they hook around the edge and pull the material away to expose his chest fully. He’s enraptured, caught in a trance as he watches you lean your head down to his chest, soft kisses sending electric shivers down his spine. 

You kiss down his sternum, trailing off to the left of his chest and sucking lightly. A breath is ripped away from him at the feeling, and he suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to whine. He fights the urge as he sighs again, your lips slowly sucking and kissing down his chest, leaving some light and dark purple spots in your wake. 

It’s hard to pull his eyes away from your work. Each time you leave a mark on his lower chest, Spencer’s eyes linger on it before they follow you to your next location. He feels sensitive all over, his body humming–tingling–with desire. He wonders if you’d think he’s pathetic if he begs for something more. 

But you catch on before he embarrasses himself.

You sit up straight as your hands rest on his lower stomach, looking down at his crotch before looking up into his eyes curiously. “May I?” You ask with a half-hearted chuckle like it’s funny. 

He knows you aren’t laughing at him; you’re laughing because you already know his answer. A soft whine is pulled from his throat as he says, “Yes,” 

Your eyes leave his, trailing down his body slowly as your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and start to pull them down. Spencer’s eyebrows knit together at the feeling, the material dragging against his hard cock slowly. 

As he kicks his boxers away, he is pleasantly surprised when you straddle his lap. Your hips hover inches from his as you lean down towards him slowly, your hands pressing against his chest for stability. Your hair falls in your face as you whisper a slow, seductive, “Does this work for you?” 

Spencer can feel his heart stutter lightly against his chest as he nods like a madman, cheeks flushed as he stammers out a little, “Ab-absolutely, anything you want, we don’t– I mean– we can do anything you want, I won’t mind.” 

His nervous rambling is cut off with a hiss of pleasure as he feels you wrap your hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance carefully. The slow drag of his head against your folds has him letting out a stuttering sigh, his hands instinctively moving to your hips. His eyes shut tight as you sink down on him, a soft sigh falling from your lips as you slowly take every inch. He feels the urge to beg again. 

You’re watching him from his lap, a little smile gracing your face as you watch the way his mouth falls open as you adjust your knees slightly to fully sit down on his cock. A slight muffled whine can be heard from Spencer as his eyes slowly open to take in the sight of you bare and preparing to ride him– it makes him feel dizzy. 

It's your turn for your lips to part, a shaky sound of pleasure leaving your lips as you start to move your hips up slowly. He’s so hard inside of you that you’re sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you as you slowly move up and down. 

You can feel the way his slender fingers start to grip your hips tighter, gently digging into your skin at the tortuous pace you’re beginning to set. It’s building, that’s for sure. You’re panting lightly as soft moans fill the room. 

You let out a soft yelp, feeling Spencer’s hips chase yours when you slow down slightly, looking down at him with a surprised expression. He sends you an apologetic look and whispers, “I’m sorry, I just need– I’m sorry.” His voice sounds strained like you’re putting him through the worst torture imaginable. 

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head a little as you brace yourself on your knees a little more, “Greedy boy,” you tease him lightly as you press down harder on his chest with your palms, giving him a taste of the pace he so desperately craved. 

Spencer lets out a shaky laugh that dies away into a groan as your hips move at a slightly faster pace, his hands beginning to guide you down onto his cock. He’s trying to be respectful of the pace you’re setting every time– honest! This feels too much like a fantasy, like a wet dream he’s sure he’s had many times before, one that has every instinct in his bones telling him to go as hard and fast as possible. 

It's an incredibly tempting stupid instinct. He knows that the faster you ride him, the faster this moment is over, but it feels so good. The drag of his painfully hard cock against your walls– add to that the lewd sounds that keep escaping your lips whenever you give him an experimental roll of your hips. He’s panting when he feels you picking up the pace again, his fingers flexing against your hips. It’s still not enough. He’s not sure he’ll ever have enough of you. 

You’re breathing heavily as you flick your head to the side to get a better look at him. He’s starting to sweat a little as his eyes trail down your body. Whenever his eyes catch a slight of his cock disappearing inside of you, he licks his lips, dragging his bottom lip into his lip for a second as his eyes move back up to your face. 

You give him a quick, breathless smile as you whisper a saccharine, “You like that?” You begin, dragging your hips forward slightly on your way down his length. “ You like watching your cock disappear inside me?” 

Spencer’s eyes widen for a second as he gives you a quick nod, “Yes-” He lets out a whine, his hips chasing yours again as you slow down quickly, teasingly dragging your hips against his, driving him crazy. 

As you experimentally roll your hips, you can feel his head brushing against your g-spot, and you’re quick to ignore his pleasure to chase your own. You aim for the feeling again, your hands leaving his chest as you move them back to his knees, causing you to lean back slightly. 

The sight is intimate and extremely erotic as Spencer watches the way you grind your hips against his cock, gasping out harshly whenever it hits the rough patch of nerves inside of you. He elevates his hips slightly for you, his mouth falling open as he looks at you, completely starstruck. 

You give him another flash of a smile as you move faster down on him, friction wise it doesn’t feel as good as when you were riding him, but just seeing the way you’re getting yourself off on his cock has him feeling like he’s about to burst. 

He wants you to cum around his cock more than so desperately that he gives up on caring about embarrassing himself, stammering out dirty talk as fast as he can, “You look so good, so fucking good.” He gasps out, watching as your eyes close. 

The sound of his voice helps you chase that high as wanton moans accompany your movements, leaving him feeling encouraged. “Wish I could record you like this. I need to remember how you look right now. Would you let me?” He stammers out between his shaky moans. 

Your head is nodding before you can genuinely process what he’s saying. Your fingers digging into his skin lightly, “Feels so good, Spencer.” 

He’s sure that’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard as he lets out a shaky, “Ye-Yeah? Do you want me to rub your clit? You want me to make you cum right now?” 

He’s asking for direction, but it doubles as dirty talk for you as your eyes open and meet his. You’re sure you’re saying the words ‘yes’ repeatedly, but you don’t actually hear the sound coming from your lips. The only thing you can focus on now is the way one of Spencer’s hands is sliding from your hip to your clit. His thumb dragging fast, tight circles on your clit. 

Spencer watches as your eyebrows crinkle together and gasps of air leave your lips. He feels your walls flutter around him. He’s careful to raise his hips to push deeper into you as you reach your second orgasm of the night with his cock deep inside you. 

Your walls squeeze around him so tight that he feels weak in the knees as you let out a high-pitched cry of pleasure, your body shaking on top of him. He’s happy to keep moving his thumb against your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm to your heart's content. 

Eventually, the shaking on your thighs calms, and you’re hissing out with overstimulation, whispering gently, “Wait, wait, wait.” You relax briefly, your hips still stuck against Spencer’s as he stops moving his thumb. Your eyes meet his, and your heart squeezes at the look he’s giving you. Something that was a mix of complete adoration and desire. 

His eyes flicker over your face nervously as he licks his lips slowly, his eyes still occasionally dipping down to your hips flush against his. You tilt your head slightly as you watch him, a small smile on your face as you lean forward, your chest pressing against his gently as you give him a soft kiss. 

It’s a short kiss, but Spencer still ends up following your lips by the end of it. “Should we switch positions?” Your voice is curiously sweet, and Spencer immediately nods at the idea. 

You lift your hips off of him and slide off his lap slowly, your legs only feeling a slight sting from riding him. You lay on the bed and watch as Spencer moves to hover over you. His eyes stare directly at your dripping cunt, and he looks like he’s lost in thought, something that earns a soft laugh from you as you shake your head at him a little. “Something on your mind?” 

It was a good-natured tease, but he answers honestly nonetheless, “Can’t decide if I want to eat you out or go back to fucking you.”  His eyes leave the dripping wet area between your legs to look into your eyes. 

It almost sounds strange coming from his mouth, you could probably count on your fingers the number of times he’s cursed in front of you. Nor did you expect something so… erotic. Then again, he did say some rather dirty things just moments prior. It didn’t phase you then because you had other things on your mind, i.e., cumming on his cock. 

You gave him a playful smile, his eyebrows raising slightly with interest, “Spencer Reid, are you… sexy?” 

He chuckles as he moves his body closer, slotting his body between your spread legs, “You tell me.” 

You laugh a little at that, and your eyes take him in—how he looks with his hands on your knees, gently pushing them to get you to spread them wider. With a wide grin, you whisper, “You are.” 

One of his hands is pressing into the bed to the left of you as he hovers over you, his other moving to your face to brush a stray hair out of your face gently. You can tell he’s trying not to feel embarrassed at the compliment as you gently move a hand up to his hair– fingers raking through his curls. “I vote you go back to fucking me.” 

Your words cause a slight shiver to roll down his spine as he lets out a soft “Mhm,” his hand leaving your face to guide his cock back inside of you slowly. He lets out a soft sigh as he presses into you, his gaze scanning your face for any sign of pain. 

He sees none as he watches your head tilt back onto the bed slightly, eyes closing for a second. The pace he starts is timid and gentle. He knows a slow build to a fast pace is better, wiser, and he’ll last longer. But it’s getting hard to remember with the way you feel around him, how deliciously you squeeze around him whenever he thrusts into you a little deeper than the time before. 

“Move your hips faster,” You mutter softly as your hips grind on his cock slowly, the slow pace making you feel embarrassingly impatient. 

He doesn’t mind, of course. He’s all too happy to start moving his hips faster. Soft moans fall from his lips as he picks up the pace, his hands moving from bracing himself up on the bed to the area behind your knees, gently lifting your legs up and apart, leaving them slightly bent in his hands. 

It happens so fast that you stare at him in awe for a split second as he readjusts himself to drive his hips into you again, and with the way he has you now, you can feel him thrusting deeper inside. You whine loudly at the feeling and nod quickly, a wordless attempt to let him know how good it feels. 

He shows you a half smile as he takes that as a sign to go deeper, grunts falling in time with his pace– seemingly becoming slightly ruthless. Your mouth fell open at the feeling of his cock reaching deeper inside you, quivers of pleasure racing through your body, your legs, everywhere. You’re sure you’re being too loud now, your cunt starting to squelch with every drag of his hips. 

Spencer feels like he’s in heaven, listening to your body respond to his, feeling your legs tremble under his touch, and watching how your eyebrows knit together when he picks up the pace slightly. He’s sure there is nobody, dead or alive, that makes him feel the way you’re making him feel right now. 

It’s exhilarating, intoxicating, and it’s making his orgasm get closer. Panting heavily, he moves your legs to wrap around his waist as he braces himself on the bed again, and he starts to roll his hips into you quickly. He lets out a breathless laugh when you yell a little, “Oh!” Pride fills his senses, knowing how good he can make you feel. 

“I’m getting close,” He rasps out with another sharp, fast roll of his hips. 

You nod quickly as you mouth a silent ‘yes’ to his warning. You’re not sure you can speak in coherent sentences with the way his cock keeps brushing against that spot inside you that has you gushing around him effortlessly. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” he stubbles out sweetly between his moans. 

You shake your head at that, “No!” You cry out, eyes locking on his as you moan out, “Inside.” 

He looks at you for a second, his hips slowing to a frustrating stop, “Are you sure, because missionary-” He heaves out a soft sigh, looking at the way you’re lust-filled eyes stare up at him, “Are you sure?” 

A gentle smile appears on your face, and Spencer feels like he’s staring at an angel. The feeling grows as you move your hands to pull his face to yours, brushing a light kiss on his lips with the soft, reassuring answer he needs to hear, “I’m sure,” 

Spencer grins against your lips, kissing you deeper as he starts to thrust his hips into you again. Your eyes roll back slightly at the rough feeling of his lips on yours and his hips snapping into you over and over again. 

Muffled moans came from both of you as you gently slipped your tongue into the kiss, eliciting a growl from the man thrusting into you. He pulls away to press his forehead against yours. Physical intimacy for Spencer always fell second to emotional. Now, feeling how your hands hold his shoulders and hearing you whisper strings of soft praise to him, he realizes that combined, they turn into the most ethereal experience he’s ever felt. 

Guttural-sounding moans are escaping his throat as he chases his climax like a madman, “You feel so good, so good.” Is all he can manage to gasp out between moans as your nails dig into his shoulders. 

You mewl under him as he gasps out a short, “I’m- god, fuck, I’m cu-” his erratic hips stutters against yours, thrusting as deep as he can into you as he reaches his climax. His breathing stutters as he lazily drags his hips in and out with his orgasm, doing his best to make it last longer for the both of you. With a final sharp thrust, he empties into you. 

Sometime after, he’s slowly pulling out and disappearing into your bathroom to get something to clean you up. You laugh as he insists on cleaning you up himself, his hands gentle as he drags the towel against your cum soaked folds. 

Once you fall asleep, Spencer finds him playing with the ends of your hair, watching how your chest rises with each deep breath. He smiles into the dark as he leans into your ear, not caring if you hear it in your sleep, “I’m going to marry you the first chance I get.” 

Day One Thousand Thirty-Three

“Spencer,” Your voice carries across the BAU bullpen, an unmistakable smile of amusement on your face as you approach his desk. “Spencer Reid,” 

After two years of being with him, he’s not sure he’s ever gotten sick of that smile. Dazzling, patient, sweet, and almost always constant when you’re around him– a permanent fixture on your face now that you live with him.  

“You are late, Doctor Reid. Hop to it!” You tap against his desk playfully. You’re already dressed for dinner tonight at Rossi’s– or that’s what you think it is anyway– and you look stunning. Even under the harsh lights of the bullpen, you look glowing, so gorgeous that Spencer feels like spoiling the surprise right now. 

“It’s barely past five. We’re fine.” 

“He’s gone already,” You move your hand dramatically towards Rossi’s empty office… most of the bullpen is empty now that you think about it. Why was your boyfriend the only one staying fifteen minutes after five? To be fair, he was waiting for you, and you were the one running late, so you feel a little guilty as you watch Spencer pack up his things. 

He looked especially good this morning, wearing one of his light brown suit combos that always had you messing up his tie before he left for work that day. You hum softly as you and Spencer walk side-by-side toward the elevators. “Do you know why Rossi said to dress up a little this time? Last time, everyone seemed pretty casual.” 

Spencer offers you a little tight-lip smile with a slight shake of his head, “No, he does have a flare for the dramatic sometimes.” He’s praying to whatever deity listening that you don’t catch on to the lie. 

You scoffed out a soft laugh, looking at him with a raised brow, “And you don’t?” 

“I’d like to think I’m more grounded in facts and reason than dramatics,” He defends himself with a laugh, hitting the button for the first floor. “Living with you has made me more dramatic. If anything, I’m mirroring you when I,” he does air quotations with his finger as he finishes, “Am being dramatic.”  

“You are so lucky you’re a federal agent,” 

“I am pretty hard to kill.” He says with a serious-looking nod, but the smile growing on his face as you walk through the parking lot to your car is telling. 

Your smile falls slightly as you nudge his shoulder softly. “Don’t remind me,” you tease him in a melancholy tone. More than two years ago, if someone had asked you if you’d be sad if Josh died tragically, you would have simply said yes. Now, with Spencer, if someone asked you that same question, you know you would start crying on the spot at the idea of the man next to you dying. 

It’s funny how people can affect other people. Through all his challenges, Spencer Reid was incredibly patient, kind, and devoted to his loved ones—including you. He was the air you breathed, and you were his. Every look he gave you, every smile he showed, and every touch confirmed it– you were going to grow old with him, one way or another. 

Spencer headed into Rossi’s villa first, and you grabbed some wine and the charcuterie board, something that the host himself requested. You were happy to help, considering he was cooking for everyone, but the lack of direction with the wine threw you slightly. Rossi loved food, loved hosting these team meals, and was… to put it bluntly, a control freak. 

You picked up a label you vaguely remembered him talking about once as you headed in after Spencer. The house looks… dark? You open the door, peeking your head in slightly. “Spencer?” A dark front room greets you. Your eyes quickly adjust as you close the front door behind you. 

You hear something moving from the kitchen, the hairs on your neck standing up as you tip-toe towards it. “Rossi?” you call out in a whisper. It definitely smells like food—chicken piccata. 

More darkness, you blink and mouth a silent “What the fuck?” Then, you catch a glimpse of some light from outside. You quietly set the board and wine on the granite countertop and head for the back door. 

From what you can see, the lanterns are on in the backyard, but more twinkling lights have been added along some trees. If you weren’t so terrified, you’re sure you would find it beautiful. But considering the team’s line of work, you were always afraid of something like this– well, whatever this was anyway. All you knew was that you no longer trusted dark houses at night. 

You made sure not to turn your back to the outside, carefully looking around and closing the door behind you. Now you knew they were out here. You could hear shushing. 

Then there he was, a big smile on his face, and everything clicked. Oh.

Oh.

“Spencer Reid, this better not be what I think it is.” 

He’s standing in the center of the backyard on a patch of patio tile, candles and flowers leading up to him. He laughs a little as you approach him. He can see tears forming in your eyes, and he hasn’t even started with the proposal. “I’m afraid it is,” he mutters as his hand slips into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, red velvet box. 

He bends down on one knee, staring up at you as you smile through tears, “I’ve had the pleasure of being with you for seven hundred and seventy-four days, but if someone asked me how many days I’ve been in love with you, I would have to tell them that I have been in love with you for one thousand thirty-three days.” His fingers are shaking as he opens the ring box, his eyes scanning your face carefully to see your reaction to the ring. 

Garcia and you often scrolled through Pinterest board together, an app that Spencer didn’t quite understand. Which explains why he asked Garcia to go with him to get the ring, because she didn’t want him to quote ‘mess it up, Aidan from Sex and the City style’ —whatever that meant. 

He was so calm when he bought it, but on the way home, he recalls looking over at Penelope in the car and asking, ‘What if she doesn’t like this one?’ in a terrified tone. 

Seeing your face now– the way your eyes light up as you wipe away falling tears and how you’re laughing through them, he knows he’s made the right choice. “I want to love you for twenty thousand more.  I want to love you through every wrinkle, every laugh, every bad day, indefinitely. I want to love you when our hair turns grey. I want you to be the rest of my life, and, at the end of it, I know I’ll see you flash before my eyes.” 

He’s watching the way you hike up your dress to your shins and get on both knees, cupping his face gently as you sniffle through happy tears. His eyes soften slightly as he becomes level with you, moving to sit on his knees. “My question is, will you let me? Will you marry me?” 

You let out a scoff, nodding quickly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, in a thousand different languages, yes!” You laugh out sweetly as you kiss him. He smiles into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your middle tightly. 

The two of you only pull away when the sound of confetti starts popping on either side of you. You laugh as you watch Penelope step out from her hiding place with half the team following behind her. Moving your head to the other side, you can see Rossi clapping softly with the other half. 

You try to dry your eyes again as small strands of confetti reach your head, Spencer’s arms slipping away from you to carefully slip the ring on your left hand. He then looks over at Penelope, “You didn’t say anything about confetti poppers.” He says in a playfully stern voice, standing up slowly before extending a hand to you. 

She simply shrugs and squeals, “She said yes!” 

Then they’re all on you like a pack of wolves, hugging, kissing cheeks, laughing as you gather your composure. After a few moments of congratulations, all you can think to say is, “I almost had a heart attack.”  

The night begins and ends with laughter. On the drive home with Spencer, you can’t help but think that there are twenty thousand more nights to come and how none of them will ever measure up to this one. It’s one of those nights that linger in the air after everyone’s already said goodbye, and it’s perfect.

[ctrlchar]

hey babe! my birthday was a couple of days ago so i was wondering if you'd be willing to write some fluff with jake webber something like spending the day with him and celebrating or him doing something nice for reader on her birthday? totally cool if you don't wanna write it thank you either way <3

jake webber celebrating readers birthday headcannons

a/n:happy late birthday!! i hope you like it 🫶

your birthday is probably the only day that jake actually will make an effort to wake up early

he’ll try his best to not wake you up while he goes downstairs and attempts to cook you some funfetti pancakes

he would do literally anything you ask him and even stuff you didn’t ask,he’ll bring you your pancakes for breakfast before telling you that he made a dinner reservation for you and him

the two of you would get ready early so you can do any extra things that you want to do since it is your birthday

i feel like he would love to take photos of you while the two of you are out and about. he loves seeing how happy you look as well as how pretty you are

he’d drive you around to see if there’s anything specific that you want to do and if there is then you would do said thing before jake taking you to get some lunch from your favorite fast food place

if there was a photobooth nearby he would insist the two of you take some photos together

he would make sure to invite a couple of your friends to the dinner as well

during the dinner he would tell you to order whatever you want since he’ll obviously be paying for yours

when its time for dessert,depending of if you’d like it or not he would ask the waiters to put candles on your dessert so you can blow them out

after dinner he would take you to downtown or a park you can admire all of the scenery

you and jake walked down the sidewalk as you admired the vintage buildings as well as some of the artwork around the area. Jake had taken you to a few stores where he ended up buying you some clothes as well as some other things you saw in the stores. not that he minded though. he loved spoiling you,he adored the excitement in your eyes whenever something would catch your eye so of course he didn’t mind spoiling you every now and then

that’s where he would give you your final birthday gift

he would get you either a bracelet or a item of jewelry that you had been wanting for a while,he’d even write you a little note to go in the box as he expresses just how much he cares for and about you

[bonefall]

bones im doing the math and a stellers jay cooked properly can feed like four cats. no wonder clan cats have so many rules about prey distribution birds are so full of nutrition you can just coast on it. bones i did the math and if they take down an eagle they could feed like a hundred cats oh god boar meat is so worth it isnt it

EDIT: Boar math update

The average male boar is 440 pounds, which is 200 kilograms, 200,000 g x 5 = 1 million calories.

That will feed an entire Clan for months. All through the three months of winter. Boar meat is sososososo worth it, it's INSANE. ThunderClan should actually be The Fat Clan, these guys are partaking of the sweet fat of the hog and absolutely rolling in extra calories.

(This is actually why I draw a lot of my ThunderClan cats with bellies, like Lionblaze. This man finds himself in the path of food because his Clan has lots to offer lmao)

^ Lionblaze the first day Willowpelt took him on as a secondary apprentice

Ducks are a REALLY good target for Clans, also. Average mallard drake is 3.5 pounds, 1.5 kilos, 9,000 calories. One duck feeds the entire Clan for a day.

I will say though, EXTRA knowledge; remember that calories don't necessarily satiate hunger! A lot of factors do, but you can summarize them with weight in the context of cats. My cat's usually full around 85 grams, but I know some cats who can hoover a big can of food in a single sitting.

(long answer: protein, fiber, thickness, if you had a drink beforehand, eating slowly, etc. But we're talking about prey meat here)

So your stellar's jay example is usually about 100 to 120 grams (though since my guys are in England, they wouldn't encounter those), which would basically be a meal two cats share. If that's breakfast they'll have hit all their calories for the day, but they'll still feel hungry for lunch and dinner.

This is why soups are so cool btw. This was a soup post all along. It's soupaganda time

Not only do you get that boost from cooking the meat here, but the value is more evenly distributed through the whole dish, the weight of the broth languishes in the stomach to make you feel full, AND ALSO IT'S A CLEAN SOURCE OF HYDRATION. You BOILED the water and didn't even think about it. That 120g prey item is now nutrition for 3 cats, a whole meal for 6, plus an easy way to get more water into sick warriors who may not feel like eating.

Get yourself some mushrooms, a couple pieces of prey, whatever leftovers that would otherwise go to waste, and BAM you've got your whole Clan stuffed and happy, even if they didn't manage to hit the caloric minimum of the day.

[dyinglikenarcissus]

Staying Home

Steve’s best girl has been sick before but not like this. He’s determined to be the best stay at home doctor boyfriend he can be.

Thank you so much @longingstormysoul for the inspiration. It’s not exactly what you requested but I had the flu and I kind of weaved this story into that.

Warnings: None really. Just fluff and stuff but this blog it still 18+. No funny business

Plagiarism isn’t cute. Don’t do it.

Like, comments, and reblogs are all appreciated 😊

Master List

You wake up feeling a slight chill run through your body. You snuggle closer to you personal heater and pull the sheets up to your nose. You swallow and know that the flu season has finally gotten to you. You try to take a breath and find your nose hopelessly stuffed. You attempt it again and are thrown into a coughing fit.

“You okay, princess?” You hear Steve’s sleepy voice mutter from behind you, rubbing a hand down your side.

You sit up and take a sip of your water bottle you kept by the bed. You attempt to sooth your burning throat but it doesn’t help as it brings on another coughing fit.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Steve asks again sitting up to rub your back.

“I think I’m coming down with something,” you wheeze, trying not to talk too loudly.

“Oh, princess. Come here,” Steve coos and presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re warmer than normal,” he muses.

“But I feel so cold,” you whisper, pulling the blankets to your chest.

“Yup. Definitely a fever. Do you have any cold medicine?” You nod and attempt to get out of bed. “I’ll get it,” Steve assures you and presses you back down.

“It’s in that cabinet,” you sniffle and cough before continuing, “in the corner by the sink.

The upper one.”

“Got it. You sit tight and bundle up,” orders.

You’ve never been one to follow orders.

You slide out of bed to use the restroom and brush your teeth.

Steve steps into the bathroom and appears in the mirrors reflection after you spit out your toothpaste.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in bed?” There’s a playful smirk on his face as he watches you through the mirror.

“I’m not the soldier in this relationship,” you whisper. You think the vibrations from your toothbrush loosened the congestion in your nose but your throat was still on fire.

“When you finish up, I made you some hot tea then I’ll take your breakfast order.”

“You’re gonna cook?” You chuckle and rub some face wash against your skin. Your boyfriend is good at almost everything. Cooking is not one of those things.

He grins at your words. “Panera’s a block away. Whatever soup you want. Sandwich. They have flat breads now. Apple for breakfast, chips for lunch, baguette for dinner.” You can’t help but giggle at his notion but you’ve gone days only eating at Panera before. Sadly.

A day of Panera sounded amazing.

“And I made you a virtual doctors appointment. They’ll call in an hour. Just wanna make sure I don’t have to go on a murderous rampage to find a cure for the love of my life.” You giggle and it turns into another coughing fit.

“You’d go on a murderous rampage for me?” You smile once you regain your voice.

“Well…Bucky and Loki would. I’d go along to keep them in line.”

You smile at his words. “Thor can’t even keep Loki in line. What makes your think you can?”

“Hey! Who kicked Hitler’s ass across the continental US?” You shake your head and try not to laugh to hold back the coughs. “You done making yourself look beautiful? Get back in bed, princess.”

“Beautiful?” You huff, looking yourself over. You felt anything but beautiful but you’d take it.

You slink back into the bed with Steve on your heels. He tucks you in before sitting on the edge of the bed to take you meal order. It may be breakfast time but some chicken noodle soup sounded amazing. Stevie did say to order for the day…

You giggle at the array of items in your cart by the time you pass Steve’s phone back to him.

“Soup, salad, a whole baguette, a kitchen sink cookie? What is that?”

“It’s got everything but the kitchen sink,” you smile. They normally sell out at lunch so you’re staking your claim early. “What are you getting?”

“Breakfast sandwich, turkey sandwich, ham sandwich,” Steve recounts. “And I’m getting one of these cookies, too.” You smile and Steve presses a kiss to your forehead. “Take some meds, princess. And get some sleep. I’ll be back before you know it.” You nod and obey his direction as he walks out of the bedroom and the apartment. You sip you tea and scroll through your phone for a minute before the NyQuil kicks in and knocks you out.

You wake up to Steve hot body wrapped around you as he dozes, spooning you comfortably on the couch. At least it would’ve been comfortable. You would’ve normally loved it.

You felt completely stifled.

“Stevie, too hot,” you whine and attempt to press away from him.

He groans and stretches before muttering a soft “What’s wrong?”

“You’re too hot,” you whimper trying to struggle out of the throw blanket.

“Calm down. I’ll help you.” He untangles you and tosses the blanket to the chairs. “Better?”

You hum positively.

He sighs and you hear music playing from the TV. “We fell asleep?” You ask as you crack your eyes open to see the credits playing from the movie you were watching.

“You’ve seen Avatar enough times to know all the lines. We didn’t miss much.” You hear the smile in Steve’s voice as he rubs your stomach softly.

You giggle and sing along to I See You with your croaky sick voice. Steve laughs and rolls on to his back. Well, as much as he can on the crowded couch.

“How you feeling, princess?”

You yawn and nod. “A little better. I’m enjoying just being home with you. Sucks I have to be sick.”

“I’m enjoying the vacation,” Steve yawns. “What are we watching next?” He goes back to the Disney+ menu to scroll through your recommendations.

“The Orville! Or Miraculous Ladybug! Are there new Miraculous episodes?”

Steve chuckles. “Let’s check. Shit, looks like they uploaded the rest of season 5.”

“Run it, Cap!” You grin.

“Popcorn?”

You nod and get up to go to the kitchen.

“Take some cough medicine while you’re up,” Steve instructs.

You sigh and but follow his orders. You were getting better under Dr. Rogers supervision so you couldn’t knock him. You just had a bad cough and a migraine that wouldn’t go away no matter what medication you took. But all your other symptoms cleared up in a couple of days.

He had to be doing something right.

You toss a bag of popcorn in the microwave and look through the pile of pills for your cough meds.

You grab two bottles of water and deposit them on the coffee table when there’s a knock at the door.

“Who’s that?” Steve mutters narrowing his eyes.

“Maybe Amazon?” You shrug. You start to walk over to get it but Steve easily over takes you.

Doesn’t stop you from peaking around him to see who it is.

It’s just Bucky.

“What are you doing here?” Steve greets.

Of course he’d be the only one brave enough to come visit when you’re this sick. Super soldier immune systems are no joke.

“Just came to check on you two,” Bucky grins as Steve lets him in.

“Hey, Buck,” you smile. He pulls you into a hug and presses a kiss to your forehead. It was his standard greeting for you. It always felt so warm and comfortable.

“Sorry for the mess,” you whisper.

“You’re sick, doll. Don’t apologize,” he sighs and follows Steve to the living room.

“How’s it going? Getting any better?”

“From when I first got sick, way better,” you smile.

“She still has a bad cough and gets random fevers,” Steve sighs, pulling you into his lap after you bring back a bowl of popcorn. “But one day at a time.” You nod and snuggle into his embrace.

“You two will never stop being disgusting,” Bucky sighs watching you as he falls into the arm chair. “As much as I love you, I didn’t come by just to check on you, doll face. Stevie. Wanna go to Istanbul?”

“No,” Steve states firmly.

“Nat’s in Brazil and Sam’s in California. I don’t have back up.”

“You can’t throw a stick without hitting a super powered being. Go find one of them.”

“Steve, are you seriously saying no?”

“Yes.” Steve states resolutely. “My best girl is sick. I’m not leaving her like this.”

“Stevie, I’m feeling much better. You don’t have to stay behind because of me-“

“No, princess. Buck. I’m retired. Which means I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. I love you, you know I do, but I don’t want to go. I want to stay right here and take care of my princess. Any other time, I’d suit up but right now, she needs me.”

Bucky looks between you and Steve. “Okay,” Bucky says simply.

“Okay?” Steve asks, leaning back on the couch and pulling you along like a security blanket. Bucky would say whatever he wants to Steve but he watches his language around you.

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll ask Okoye or track down that Moon Knight fellow. He hangs out in the Middle East sometimes.”

“You have so many options,” Steve smiles. “I have to draw a line somewhere.”

“Or we’ll just keep dragging you out and it’ll be like you never stopped,” Bucky sighs, leaning back in the recliner.

“When are you leaving?”

“Couple of days.”

“Then you can watch a couple of episodes with us. Want some popcorn?” Steve pushes the bowl closer to his best friend.

Bucky stayed for a few hours, took a nap, ate dinner, then said goodnight.

You turned on Steve the second the door closed. “You don’t have to stay behind because of me.”

“I’m not doing it because of you. I’m doing it because I love you and I don’t want to leave you alone while you’re sick. I’m going to marry you one day and that’s part of the vows, isn’t it?” He smirks and you’re sure your fever came back because you suddenly feels faint.

The two of you didn’t talk about marriage often but when you did, you alway felt flushed and flustered.

“Come on, my little princess. Let’s get to bed early. You’ve had an eventful day.” He scoops you up by the backs of your thighs and carries you to the bathroom to wash up for bed. You both brush your teeth and shower together, just like you’ve done all week.

And you end it all curled up in Steve’s strong arms. You’re quickly getting used to this.

“I like having you home,” you sigh as he holds you against him.

“I like being home. I could really get used to this.”

“This is what retirement actually looks like, baby,” you smile.

“I think I might actually do it one day.” You hear the smile in Steve’s voice making you giggle.

“I know better. The second I start feeling better, you’ll be back out there on them streets.”

“You aren’t feeling better, are you?” Steve questions and presses you down on your back to get a better look at you. You let out a fake cough. “That’s what thought.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips and you can’t help your smile.

“One more?”

“Spoiled little princess.” But he happily obliges.

“I’m your spoiled little princess,” you remind him.

“I guess I have to keep taking care of you.”

You nod in agreement. “And keep giving me cuddles and kisses?”

“And keep giving you all the cuddles and kisses you could ever need.” He presses another kiss to your lips and pulls you back into his embrace.

You lie in his arms for a moment. “Stevie, I really am feeling much better,” you insist.

He hums softly but ignores you otherwise.

“It’s true. I barely have a cough anymore…”

“I don’t care what you have to say, I’m not leaving.” You giggle softly and snuggle into his arms.

For the first time in your almost two year relationship, he said no to saving the world. For you. You can’t keep the smile off of your face as you fall asleep in the only place you want to be: in Steve’s arms.

Master List

[umbrella-show]

Platonic Yan Rottmnt

「 ✦ 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐘𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐌𝐍𝐓 𝐱 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐭.𝟐 ✦ 」

Part 2 is finally here and there will be a part 3 to finish off this mini series! \(^▽^)/ I'm sorry this took so long to post. A family member recently passed away and I was processing that while having to go to school and being swamped with schoolwork. Finals are also coming like next week but after that I get a two week break so I'll definitely be writing some more when that comes. Anyways I hope yall enjoy! Words : 2,411

THIS IS IN NO WAY APPROVING OF A ABUSIVE OR TOXIC RELATIONSHIP Warnings : Delusion, Kidnaping.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Being stuck for many months in what you learned was the Hamato brother’s lair was tiring. No, scratch that, it was exhausting. All of them were clingy, needy and especially overprotective. They also began addressing you like you were family, and started trying to spend time with you like you had lived with them your whole life.

Mikey was always trying to cling to you, whether it be holding your hand, carrying you throughout the lair, or just unexpectedly jumping on you and piggyback riding off of your back, clinging to you for dear life like a koala. He basically begged for your affection, trying so hard to take up all of your time with art, cooking, baking and anything else he could think of that would keep you occupied with him. He also called you his twin. Which, sure you were basically the same age as him, and you both were mutant turtles, but you had no connection to any of them whatsoever. You had learned how the Hamato’s had become mutants in the first place, but you all had never met before you or they were mutated, and you two didn’t even share the same birthday. Yet he seemed persistent to call you two twins.

Leo was obviously the jokester out of the four. He makes multiple one-liners around you, trying to make you laugh. He also made many jokes about New Jersey of all places, which you didn’t get. He wasn’t as touchy as Mikey, but he liked to occasionally put an arm around your shoulder or rest his elbow on your head. He seemed more possessive of you, making plans with you to read Jupiter Jim comics and get defensive when his brothers tried to take you away to do something else with them. He also liked to mix in some Spanish into his speech at times. He mostly calls you hermana/hermano.

Donnie was very protective of you. He made sure you balanced out your nutrients and ate food that would make sure your blood sugar levels were at normal rates. He knew what foods you could and couldn’t eat. He made sure you were hydrated and healthy. He knew most about your species. He had spent time studying your behaviors for the first few days you were brought to the lair. He also forbade you to do things that he thought you could harm yourself doing. Even simple things, like reaching items from up high, because, according to Donnie, the item you were reaching for could fall on your head so hard it could knock you out or cause you a concussion. Yeah, you didn’t get that rule. You had to ask either Donnie or his other brothers to help you. He also placed multiple cameras and alarms throughout your new room at your arrival, making sure he can monitor you at all times.

Raph was somewhat of a more tolerable one. While he was a bit more overprotective of you than Donnie, he was the one that gave you the most space and privacy. He was already worried he could possibly hurt you because of his strength, which made him back off a bit. He also was the only one who insisted on your personal space when Leo or Mikey were being too overbearing with their affection and touchiness. He made sure you at least ate breakfast, lunch and dinner, and sometimes would walk up to you, give you a small snack, gently pat your head like one would do to a cat, and anxiously leave without a word. You knew he could be a little shy around you, most likely due to an insecurity that you might not like him or think he’s not doing enough for you. He also occasionally likes to carry you in his arms.

Hell, even their dad, Splinter, grew attached to you. He calls you Yellow due to the spots on your body and shell, and practically treats you like one of his own. Except he makes more of an effort to talk and spend quality time with you. You found out he used to be a movie star named Lou Jitstu before he was mutated by some sheep guy named Baron Draxum. 

Overall, you despised it here. You just want freedom. To see the sky again. To try and adjust to the circumstances of becoming a mutant by yourself and live a peaceful life where you're not constantly babied by everyone around you. That’s why you tried your first, and hopefully last, escape attempt.

—

You mentally went over the plan again and again in your mind, looking for possible flaws. A sense of doubt gnawed at the back of your mind. What if the plan didn’t work? What would happen to you then? You huffed at your own anxious thoughts, turning to face the curtain that was the door to your room. It led into the main room of the maze that was the Hamato’s lair. Thankfully, there was an extra room in the lair that the brothers had converted into a bedroom for you, despite Mikey’s protests and insisting you slept in his room in a separate hammock. 

You took shaky deep breaths in and out a couple times to calm down. You could do this. The timing had to be just right. Speaking of time, you glanced at the digital alarm clock that rested on your bedside table. 5:21 AM. Okay, just a few more minutes and your plan would be set in motion.

You decided a time closer to the morning would work better, considering the brothers seemed to be active most in the night. A time closer to morning was usually when they slept. It would be the perfect time to sneakily leave your room. You decided trying to sneak straight to the manhole wasn’t an option. You knew Donnie would have some kind of security near there. Not only to keep you in, but to also keep unwanted strangers out. Luckily the lair had multiple entry and exit points that mostly led into the tunnels of the sewers. From there, you would have to try and find your way out from there. It wasn’t the most thought out plan since you had only gotten to explore the tunnels when Raph went Savage. If everything goes wrong and you end up with the brothers on your tail, your next bet is to swim your way away. Or at least try to. You assumed you could at least swim pretty well since you were a turtle now. You hoped that you wouldn’t have to resort to that though. Those waters looked disgusting and dirty and gross. Glancing at the alarm clock again you realized it was about time for you to activate your plan. A few minutes had passed since the last time you had looked at the time. Propping yourself on your elbows in the bed you took another deep breath. The time was now. You could do this. You slowly lifted your body into a sitting position, letting your legs dangle off of the edge of the bed for a few moments before pushing yourself to stand. Your crept towards the curtain, holding it open slightly so you could peek through the other side. Nothing. Everything was dead silent. Good. Slowly and soundlessly pushing the curtain further aside, you made sure to take slow steps to make as little noise as possible. You soon were standing in the middle of the main room, in the center of the natural light that came from the ceiling, the moonlight shining almost a spotlight on your figure as you continued to creep closer and closer towards the tunnel entry. A loud heavy bang of metal made you harshly flinch and hitch your breath. You froze up, staying as still as a statue. After a couple agonizingly long seconds, you turned your head towards the source of the noise. Light came from inside Donnie’s lab that spilled out of the door. You could barely hear sounds of metal objects being moved around in there and mentally cursed. Of course Donnie was awake. Why did you not think of that!? He basically ran on coffee 24/7 and was known for pulling multiple all-nighters on tech and inventions. He didn’t seem to notice you were out of your room though, considering he hasn’t come out of his yet. From the sound that came from his lab you assumed he was building something and was most likely putting his full attention on it. You hoped at least.

Whatever. You had no time to ponder. You took another slow step forward, keeping a slow and silent place towards the large metal entry to the labyrinth of sewers. Even after you made it beyond the tunnel entry, you still continued to slowly tiptoe your way until you were sure you were completely out of sight. After turning a quick corner in the tunnel, you laid your back against the stone wall and slowly panted with wide eyes. You took a moment before snapping out of your shock trance. No time to stop and rest now. Forcefully pushing yourself off of the wall you bolted down the tunnels, desperately looking for any traces of a possible exit. Your feet slapped against the cold stone floor, turning multiple corners. You could only briefly remember the paths that you had taken when exploring the sewers looking for Raph. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you skidded around another corner. Luckily, there were graffiti drawings on most of the walls, most likely done by Mikey, that you used as a map. And based on the graffiti, you were almost there. You were almost free!

Your blood suddenly went cold when you heard it. Another set of feet slapping against the floor at a rapid pace somewhere behind you. No. No way you were stopping now that you had gotten this far. You urged your legs to run faster, using all of your strength to keep going. You glanced at a graffiti drawing of a smiley face melting and a small light of hope shone in you. This was it. Bolting around the last corner, you took only a few swift steps before leaping into the canal of green murky water that splashed violently along the rounded walls of the sewer tunnel. You ungracefully crashed into the water with a loud splash, the strong current taking you away. 

You poked your head out of the water, coughing a bit, Another splash came from somewhere behind you, and snapping your head in that direction, you saw a Donnie hot on your trail, swimming without a problem towards you. How did he know you had left so quick!? He must have placed some kind of alert in the sewer tunnels too. You panicked, taking in a gulp of air and submerging yourself back under the water. You swam as fast as you could, violently kicking your legs as the current continued to sweep you to what you hoped to be the exit. You held your breath for as long as you could, occasionally throwing your head above the water to take in a large heave of air before continuing to swim with the overpowering tide.

You didn't know how long you had been swimming. What was probably seconds felt like forever. You could swim pretty fast. Almost faster than Donnie, but he was catching up. 

A dead end with a tunnel. You could see a tunnel ahead, blocked by a rusted circular vault door with a wheel handle. Looking over your shoulder you could see Donnie's faint silhouette swimming towards you at a scarily quick pace. You needed to get the vault open and quick. You could feel your lungs desperately begging for air. Your hands gripped the wheel as you placed your feet against the stone wall, using all your strength to turn it. The wheel had obviously not been used in a while, from how hard it was to turn and how slow it did. You panicked slightly, using more of your strength. Bubbles left your mouth as your hands gripped the wheel tighter. Slowly but surely the wheel began to turn and after a few more seconds you were able to pry the metal vault open. You swung it open and hastily swam through the tunnel. You turned around, catching a quick glance at Donnie who was dangerously close, and slammed the vault shut, turning the handle as far as it could go. You then felt the wheel break off from the vault in your hands. You flinched when you heard a loud bang from the other side, and quickly fled. 

Your lungs burned. If you didn’t get oxygen soon you would drown here. Swimming as fast as you could, you saw not far ahead was the end of the tunnel that led to more water, except the water was cleaner. Kicking your legs fiercely, you swam out of the tunnel and immediately swam up. Your head burst out of the water, taking in a loud gasp of air. The harsh inhale of air prompted you to cough harshly. You looked around for land, still coughing violently and wheezing. A wooden dock was the first thing you saw and you promptly began to weakly doggy paddle towards it. Your hands gripped the edge of the dock, slowly pulling yourself on it. You flopped on your stomach, panting heavily as water dripped off of your body. You rolled on to your back instead, spreading your limbs in a starfish position. 

You looked up at the sun, squinting your eyes at the bright light. Using your arm to shield your eyes, the realization hit you with a burst of joy. The blue sky. The bright sun. You were free. You were finally free! You sat up, the adrenaline wearing off slowly. You knew you couldn't stay for long. Who knows when the brothers would be after after Donnie alerts them you had run away. You got up, having a bit of trouble from your shaking and sore legs from all of the tiring running and swimming. You stumbled as you walked at a quick pace across the dock and towards the tall city buildings that could be seen from your location. You need to get as far as possible from the escape exit you just took. You hoped you never saw those turtles ever again.

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 7-In a League of their Own (SUB)

Damian sat in his apartment trying to empty his mind. His girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, was the most amazing person he ever met. He was still shocked she agreed to date him. Today was one of those days when he thought he was just holding her back from greatness.

'Marinette deserves better than me. She's smart, tactical, and crafty. You would think Mother or Father trained her.'

'Not only is she smart, but she can cook and bake. I'm still learning. I'm sure there's day she wishes she could have a home cooked meal. I can only take her out to resturants or make her breakfast. She makes the most amazing dinners! Everything she makes tastes delicious. Anyone would be lucky to eat her food everyday.'

'She's an amazing business woman. Marinette is practically running her own company and I don't even have full control of Wayne Enterprise! She isn't afraid to tell people off. Mother would have loved her commanding presence. Everyone, including Father, is scared of me.'

'Maybe I should break up with her.'

Damian's thoughts were broken when he doorbell went of continuously.

'Who could that be? Must be Grayson.'

Damian opened the door to see his girlfriend standing there in tears.

'What the fuck?'

Marinette lunged into his arms.

"Who-" he began to demand.

"It's been a really bad day." Marinette cried into his arms, "Can I just stay with you? I always feel better when I'm with you."

Damian took a deep breath and pushed his anger down, for another time.

"Of course." he spoke.

Damian picked her up and set her down on the couch. As she wiped her tears away, he began to take off her shoes and her coat. He went into the kitchen and grabbed her a glass of water to rehydrate and ordered some of her favorite take out, along with her favorite ice cream.

"So, what happened?" he questioned, handing her the water.

Marinette had went on to explain how there had been mix up with a few orders. A person she had fired had put in the orders and when they hadn't come in on time, she called the company only to find out that person had cancelled the orders. Once she told them that person had been fired months ago, they quickly put in motion to send the fabric and other items needed. Unfortunately for her, one of the clients pulled out of her services because of that claiming she was incompetent at her job. That had only been the morning. She had worked through her lunch to tackle anything her ex-employee had touched and caleld companies to ensure that the previous person didn't dictate her orders and informed them of any changes or wrong-doings the person had done. After that, she had to get her lawyers involved as the person was order fabrics under her name and Marinette had never received them. With all the invoices from the companies, her lawyer was sure it would be a clean sweep.

A knock at the door drew their attention away from each other.

"I'll get it." Damian offered.

When he checked the peep hole, he saw the delivery driver holding up the bag of food. He unlocked the door and took the bag. When he turned around, he could see she was surprised to see him holding up food. Marinette just looked at him with tears in her eyes and smiled. Damian quickly set the food down and rushed to her side.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Marinette kissed him, leaving him stunned.

"You are the most amazing boyfriend ever." Mari declared, "I'm sure anyone else would be jealous to know my boyfriend is in a league all of his own."

Damian kissed her back, "You may think so, but you Angel are in a league above me."

Marinette cuddled into his arms.

'We can eat the food he got in a few moments.'

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[bbnibini]

Random Cocytus Hall Headcanons

Mornings start late. Breakfast is lunch, lunch is dinner and dinner are some random snacks in the middle of the night–small and bite-sized, especially made for one particular sorcerer who has a tendency to forget his meals once he’s deep in his research.

Solomon gained a habit of eating anything that’s put in front of him, your pen? Gone. MC? Why is the steak crunchy? Man’s literally pavloved to do this because he wouldn’t eat otherwise. (Thanks, OG!Timeline, Simeon.)

Your weekends are spent scouring for magical items that will be considered rare in the original timeline/future. An "investment" if you will.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” “Am I also a worm, MC?” “No????” “Can I be one too? 🥺👉👈” (He doesn’t want you to be alone)

“Pretending” to be a couple to get couple’s discounts in everything. Purposely making a scene in public for clout. (Fake proposals, wholesome pranks and polite catcalling). You both like the chaos. Responsibly (because Barbatos is watching). Sometimes, Asmo joins in too!

Every day is a marathon to outrun Solomon to the kitchen. It’s rather unfortunate that most of the time when it’s his turn to do the cooking, something goes wrong and you have to eat out. Not like he minds (a date is a date<3).

This is you everytime you try to wake Solomon in the morning. (He’s a notorious night owl and also a light sleeper, so he made some precautions to get a good rest by casting several layers of sound blocking spells that activate once his brain waves fall into a specific frequency range. And yes. You have to disarm them One.By.One. Every.Morning.) As much as you want him to sleep longer, unfortunately, RAD doesn’t have night class. :’( (What is even “night” in Devildom if it’s always dark? Don’t mind me having an existential crisis over a fictional realm lmao)

Solomon isn’t the type of person who voices out his grievances. He’s the type who endures and always tries to act “maturely”, especially in situations he considers unfair. (Please protect this man. He doesn’t know a thing about receiving compassion nor affection. It’s a very touchy subject to him; he would rather give and get nothing in return. Because that's what always happens. Kindness makes him vulnerable and being vulnerable scares him. )Why would he make his dearest apprentice worry? You are a person meant to be loved(unlike him), and he is painfully aware how he would have to share your attention with everyone else. What you might not know is how much he beats himself up over feeling “petty emotions”. Jealousy? Loneliness? A few swigs of liquid courage would make him forget, even just for the night. He is Solomon the Wise, not Solomon the Fool.

Is the type who answers you in person every time you try to text him in Decommunication:

You Hey, do we still have some bread? seen 1 hour ago

Then when you got tired waiting for him to text back he just: *Teleports behind you* “I bought some now! Did we forget anything else?”“SOLOMON I AM LITERALLY IN THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW! HOW DID YOU GET HERE? WHY CAN’T YOU ANSWER MY TEXTS LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?!”“But…what about the bread? :( I got it for you.” "GET. OUT." "Do you need toilet pap-" "GET OUT!!!"

Contrary to Solomon’s defeatist beliefs, you crave his presence as much as he does. The little traces of him in Cocytus hall that lingers there even in his absence brings you so much comfort and reassurance. He is the first person you turn to in difficult times. “If Solomon is here, everything will be okay.” is a mantra you like muttering to yourself when you are especially troubled. Perhaps if a certain, depressed and inebriated soul would come to hear it, his own heart’s worries would finally be silenced.

WE GET IT! YOU’RE MARRIED!!  <; —----- everyone when you talk about each other

----

Happy NB Remix Release! Take this late tribute (AO3 mirror)

[love-and-deepspace-polycule]

As usual: I am posting my poly relationship headcannons. I include MC, but I don't give many (if any) headcannons for MC due to the nature of the game being MC=you. These are just silly HC I thought of randomly. Hopefully you enjoy? I do occasionally swear in my Headcannons or make minor pop culture references. I also don't consider gender when using a gendered descriptor to get a silly point across (for example, Sylus is a wine Aunt. Aunt refers to a female individual, but used to portray a stereotype even though referring to a man). I think that really covers my headcannon style. I am also an adult so I will in the future post adult content and I will block ageless accounts and under 18 accounts.

Cooking and food related HC:

Zayne:

- For breakfast he usually just has a coffee, most days he works he is on the go and just needs something to keep him going. His coffee will be very simple with usually just a little bit of sugar to cut the bitterness.

- He always preaches having breakfast, but will almost never have breakfast in his own practice. When he does eat it's usually something light, but still high in protein to keep himself feeling full like yogurt. Since he is usually awake first (Sylus is often awake too due to the insomnia. He will sometimes find Sylus in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of wine.)

- he doesn't want to make a lot of noise and wake up the others, so he doesn't cook a lot if it's just him, instead opting for options that don't require pots and pans or any other loud cookware. The few times he has a later start to work and will catch Xavier and MC getting up and ready for work he will take that extra time in the morning to cook a simple meal for them to make sure they get the proper nutrients for their very physically demanding job.

- He is a decent cook. What he makes is always very well thought out for the needs of the whole group as far as nutrition goes, but sometimes that can leave something to be desired in regard to variety and flavor. He is a "by the book" kinda cook. Not much of an experimenter. His food is usually a 6-7/10. Not too bad.

- He will sometimes bring Sylus some food if he hasn't seen him in a while cooped up in his office.

- Prefers a sweet breakfast over a savory breakfast.

- When he does get a day off, he doesn't usually sleep in too much because he doesn't want to ruin his sleep schedule, so he usually is still one of the first people awake and will sometimes make breakfast for everyone.

- He's not a very picky eater except for a few items he refuses to eat.

- Lunch? What lunch? He usually doesn't eat lunch if he is busy, or just something quick from the hospital cafeteria. Sometimes Rafayel will make him a lunch the night before for him to take to work usually considering of leftovers from the dinner before or something simple.

- Zayne is usually the go-to guy to grab last minute groceries. Either because of his work schedule getting off right before dinner time (if he doesn't have to pull extra hours), or the hospital being closer to a grocery store than wherever Xavier and MC might be stationed. Plus Zayne would probably be the only one who could remember a grocery list and not forget anything.

- He is not usually the one to cook dinner, but he is definitely the one who helps clean up. This man is dish daddy for sure (probably another nickname given by Rafayel).

- Usually just has a glass of water with dinner. Sometimes if a special occasion he will have a glass of wine or champagne.

- He's sits at one of the ends of the table. Not for any particular reason but the other s just naturally sat where they sat.

Xavier:

- forgets to eat, or rather he would rather sleep in than take extra time to eat breakfast. If there is an "on the go" food option available he MIGHT grab something.

- Energy drink guy

- Knows how to cook well enough to not eat anything raw or burnt because of sheer amount of years he has been alive, but he doesn't like to cook and very much has the attitude of "eat to live" not really caring what his food tastes like.

- When presented with good tasting food, he will always compliment it and say that it tastes good but will still never put any effort into his own cooking if he is just feeding himself. If he is making food for someone else he will try and put effort into it but he doesn't cook very often and will sometimes over, or under season the food. Because of this he is also a "by the book" type of cook when he actually tries to cook things for others. He still somehow ends up over seasoning or under seasoning something.

- The only time he will burn something is when he forgets he's cooking something.

- He loves when Zayne cooks breakfast for him. Has no preference for savory or sweet breakfast.

- Not that picky of an eater.

- Although I do feel like he would have an allergy to something simple like peanuts, or maybe he is lactose intolerant. I don't know I just get that vibe. Although I feel like it would be a minor enough allergy to where he would still eat that food because he just doesn't care enough to ask. He will sleep it off anyway. I'm convinced nobody in the house knows he has an allergy simply because he does not care that he has one. Zayne would be the first to find out for sure. Zayne: "Really? You didn't tell anyone?" Xavier: "I didn't think it really mattered."

- Lunch is very 50/50 much like Zayne it is really dependent on if he is busy or not whether he has lunch or not.

- He usually isn't home to help prep dinner so he usually will help clear the table and clean up everything after dinner.

- Usually we'll have light beer or water with dinner.

- Xavier, its on one of the long sides of the table with MC opposite of the kitchen. This is mostly so key is out of the way of Rafayel placing the food down on the table.

Rafayel:

- Usually makes his own breakfast since he is on his own independent work schedule. He usually kills the last of the coffee in the coffee pot. A decent amount of creme and sugar. Probably the one to convince the group to get a whole coffee bar with all the bells and whistles. Ends up using it the least, but Sylus uses it the most and loves it. If I knew more about coffee I would tell you his order, but unfortunately I don't know anything about it. He likes the flavors though like vanilla or caramel.

- he will usually have a mix of a sweet and savory breakfast, but nothing too heavy.

- Sometimes if he has a meeting with Thomas, he will have Thomas come to the studio and bring him a Latte and a muffin. If he can make Thomas do his errands for him he will. This includes breakfast.

- He sometimes skips out on lunch, especially if he is particularly invested in a painting. Either because he has found inspiration and can't seem to bare the thought of stopping painting, or because he is stuck in a block and has been using all his extra mental energy on this piece, to the point of being unable to focus on eating.

- if he does eat lunch it will either be something he ordered for delivery or something he might already have at the studio. He doesn't really want to leave the studio while he is trying to work on his newest painting.

- When it's his turn to cook dinner, he will constantly forget what ingredients he needs. Very experimental with cooking and will think of a bunch of last minute groceries that he promptly texts Zayne to pick up on his way home. All in separate texts at vastly different times.

- Makes THE BEST tacos.

- Usually uses any leftover food to make quick lunches for everyone for the next day.

- Champagne with dinner? Maybe just water? I don't know he seems like a mixed bag, really just drinking whatever suits the meal best. Low-key the bartender for the group. So he will sometimes make everyone drinks that go well with whatever dish he and Sylus have whipped up. This isn't with every meal, but it is especially so if it is something new that they are trying. Or will take inspiration from a recipe that says it pairs well with a certain drink. Probably ooc, but I vibe with this Rafayel.

- Rafayel side on the long side of the table closest to the kitchen. This is usually because he is helping bring food to the table when it's done cooking. He has the most space to place the dinner spread.

Sylus:

- forgets to eat. Breakfast is a state of mind. This guy will never know what time it is and will eat whatever he feels like eating at any given time of day, or rather WHEN he has time. He genuinely does not have any sort of food schedule due to the nature of his "work" as well as his insomnia. This man will have a steak at 4am because he doesn't have any perception of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This poor man need a schedule and some melatonin.

- It's 5:00 somewhere... Will have a glass of wine for breakfast, Bourbon for lunch, Whiskey for dinner. Quite literally has no sense of meals. Period. The only thing keeping this man from scurvy is Zayne and any formal dinner events he has to attend to keep up appearances as the leader of Onychinous. Those are probably the only real meals he makes time for as well.

- He always makes sure to eat lots of protein when he does eat.

- How is this man simultaneously the busiest and also has no schedule? I don't know, but it's really messing with his sleep and diet. Really only eats one meal a day. Started having "family dinners" to force him to keep a schedule and spend time with his partners. Usually tired off his ass though.

- "I'm going to wrap up this meeting here, I have an important dinner to attend that I cannot be late for." He will literally end meetings on the spot to make dinner time regardless of the meetings importance. All of his 'business partners' are always too afraid to get on his bad side to question Sylus... It's taco Tuesday.

- He is a decent cook but doesn't ever have time to cook. Prefers a savory breakfast but he does love when he gets a sweet breakfast from Zayne. It's a nice change from his usual heavy protein meat dishes.

- Will also sometimes cook breakfast with Rafayel if he is not busy and if he hasn't eaten anything in a while.

- When he does get a free chance he likes to cook with the others as a way to spend time together, this is usually everyone's dinner time. Sylus and Rafayel will spend the evening cooking together and setting up for dinner while waiting for the others to get off of work.

- Wine Aunt

- Sylus sits on the opposite end of the table as Zayne. He has the longest reach and can pass dishes and food around easily from this side.

General:

- Rafayel and Sylus are the main dinner cooks, Zayne does dishes, MC dries dishes and put them away, Xavier puts away leftovers and cleans up the table.

- Dinner is really the only time everyone might be able to have a meal together. If Zayne, Xavier, and MC all get off at their regular scheduled hours it's a good day and a guaranteed family dinner.

- seating chart Rafayel gets the long end closest to the kitchen Sylus gets the short end to Rafayels left, Xavier and MC on the other long side, then Zayne on the far short side.

[the-trinket-witch]

Imagine That

(vignette for Eugenio, my Yuu for TWST. Set early in the school year. Inspired HEAVILY By Spielberg's Hook. CW for cussing I guess??)

┌───────────────────═━┈━═───────────────────┐

Everything was moving so fast. Being thrust into a whole new world like some generic isekai, to having full confirmation -and conversation- with ghosts, to learning that magic exists, and there were whole schools dedicated to its study. Eugenio didn't get much of a chance to really get their footing. Professor Trein had been a buoy in a raging sea of uncertainty; the books of Twisted Wonderland’s history at least kept them from seeming as much like an interloper than they already did. So it wasn't much of a surprise to know Grim’s and their GPA was only held up by their Alchemy and History grades. They didn't require magic, or at least had work arounds for the magicless Prefect and the greatest -but least experienced- mage to ever live. One thing that had been taught early in their newfound circumstances was that magic required imagination to be executed properly. Ace and Deuce found that hard to believe, if their stuffy yet powerful House warden was anything to go by. They could at least see why Sebek had difficulty with some of the more abstract spells being taught, and with Epel’s colorful language, when Vil wasn't around, gave him an inverse edge. But regardless, it wouldn't have mattered if Yuu could imagine this entire world in some fever dream; no magic was no magic. And Grim was Grim, all 9 stubborn kilograms of him.

It seemed even the curriculum was out to show how much the two didn't belong. Yuu was dreading what the day was going to bring; there was a heavy emphasis in the email sent to have a hearty breakfast, and lunch period was going to have a special announcement. Albert was unfortunately not of any help-he didn’t want to make assumptions on how much RSA and NRC’s curricula overlapped and give the wrong idea of what to expect. It didn’t help, either, that the rest of the 2nd years were advised to keep hush-hush about things. Yuu and Grim would get their answer the moment they, Ace and Deuce entered the cafeteria. Ghosts handed out a pamphlet as folks entered, explaining things. But before anyone could read it, a collective shock washed over the first years. The other ghostly staff were continuing on their daily serving routines: shuffling bins of food, offering out bowls and plates supposedly filled with food. It certainly smelled like NRC’s daily lunch trappings. The griddles even sizzled as if cooking meat, and steam from the trays fogged up the sneeze guards. The only problem: every tray, dish and bin was utterly empty. Devoid of any trace of what one might constitute as ‘food’.

“F’NYAH?! What’s the deal? Where’s the food?!” Grim yowled.

“Dude, how ‘bout reading the paper. I’ll, uh, grab lunch, I guess…” Yuu sighed.

The blue beast grumbled, but complied if only to not be made to carry any of the empty dishes.

First Year Students, Welcome once again to the beginnings of your magical academic career here at Night Raven College. It should already have been covered in your classes about the mechanics of magic: The magic you hold is channeled through your pen’s magestone and made manifest with a combination of spells and will. Willpower is actually one mental aspect of spellcasting. The other: Imagination. The stronger the imagination, the more effective one’s spellwork is. This exercise lasting the entirety of your lunch period will help you flex your imaginative muscles. For your lunch to appear, one must imagine -manifest in your mind- the items you can sense through the smells and sounds still provided. If by the end of this lunch period, nothing can be gleaned, unfortunately the typical lunch fee will not be refunded and no other opportunities until dinner period will be provided. Best of luck and happy imagineering~

D. Crowley, Headmaster

“You’re fuckin’ kidding,” Yuu grumbled.

All their reservations based on their academic ‘success’ thus far were suddenly filling the forefront of their mind. I guess that means we don’t eat til dinner…Ace and Deuce kept to either side of Yuu as they all sat; they too were concerned about having nothing to show for the price of their lunch. The only thing that could make such an ‘exercise’ worse was…

“HUMAN: I will be taking this spot-nowhere else is available. How fortunate for you to have a mage like me willing to sit here. Maybe some of my ambient magic will let you imagine a crumb for lunch,” Sebek bellowed.

The most Yuu offered in response was a sigh and bang-hidden roll of the eyes. Fantastic.

“‘Nowhere’ else? Y’sure it’s not cause nobody wants you to sit with them?” Ace grumbled.

“Let the weak be intimidated by my presence. It just shows my training has been paying off,” Sebek huffed. It wasn’t a rebuff, by the other fours’ account.

The scents were there, but it just wasn’t enough for Yuu to imagine themselves eating anything. Grim sat in their lap, mumbling over forking up a plate of imaginary carbonara. Every empty bite drew out a whine or grumble of the beast’s gullet. Sebek kept a revelrous reptilian eye on the pair, and a satisfied grin as he could only pantomime a forkful of something to his lips.

“What’re you all smug about?” Ace drawled.

“You three -and a half- look hungry~” Sebek smirked. “Can’t think of anything to put on your plate? Typical humans. Lacking in strength, stamina, magical prowess and even the brains to imagine simple food.”

“Least I got enough brains to think about more than licking my boss’ boots. Is that what you’re noshing on right now?” Yuu drawled. “You look like you’d eat anything if there were shoe polish on it.”

“EXCUSE ME?” Sebek roared. “How dare you insult one of Master Malleus’ knights!” But before he lashed out at the human across from him, he stopped, resuming the self-assured look he wore before. “What am I getting upset over? You’re but an annoying, magicless whelp. You have a familiar but still can’t use magic. And the headmaster made you Prefect of all things. Laughable for a cumberground dullard like you.”

“I wouldn’t give half a damn what your ‘Master’ thinks, if he’s willing to hire a cotton-headed ninny muggin like you,” Yuu spat back.

They snapped out a bandana from their pocket; if they were in for war, they wanted their bangs tied back to look the enemy in the eye.

“Oooh, tying back that coxcomb now, are we? What can you or that mangy moggy do against me? He looks like the spawn of a couple of hamsters and a bush of elderberries. Beslubbering louts, the both of you.

“Hey!” Deuce shouted. “What the Seven’s your problem?”

“Oh, so that’s it; you humans can’t do anything by yourselves, and need someone with actual magical potential to back you up?”

Yuu took Deuce by the shoulder, thrusting him down as they shot up. Grim’s ears laid flat, ready for a fight. And from the growing, rhythmic clatter of flatware, their squabble had the rest of the cafeteria rearing for one as well. Chants of ‘Zigvolt! Zigvolt!’ began to rise in pitch alongside the clattering. It only served to make the half-fae’s smugness spread further up his cheeks.

“Warthog-faced Buffoon.”

“Milksop.”

“Nerf-Herder.”

“Mollycoddle.”

“Son of a motherless goat!”

“Up your rear, Cow derriere!"

“Up your ass, Sassafras!”

Most of the chanting of Sebek’s name was quickly being drowned out by snickers and giggles. But it was Ace bursting with Yuu’s most recent volley that started getting folks rolling. Some still cheered for Sebek, but his anger was making him falter, and lose focus.

“Mewling, Flea-bitten nincompoop!”

“You’re what the French call, ‘Les Incompetents’.” Yuu only offered a wan, but calculating look. They had movie lines queued up til Sebek was red in the face.

“Idiotic…childish…tch-irredeemable horse’s ass!” Sebek spat, trying to get something out. If the Prefect wanted to swing low, then he had conceded to fighting just as dirty.

“If I'm a horse’s ass, how ‘bout a kiss? Ya goose-stepping, spearmint, sawtooth cabrón, lappin’ at your own cloaca, with a raging case of Tinkerbell Envy!”Yuu huffed out the last of their breath, having gotten out something that sounded like it had been held back since they got there.

Chants of ‘Prefect, Prefect' started to rise out of the hush blanketing the hall. Sebek gaped, the rage building even more. His fingers crackled with barely bridled electric fury.

“Psst, Yuu: what’s a cloaca?” Deuce murmured, hoping to not be heard. Grim heard, of course, but had a similar question.

“Wanna know what a cloaca is? THAT’S a cloaca: it's the hind end of a bird or reptile, that nine times outta ten spews shit! I ain't the one today, Crocodile Dun-Doofus, I'm from Oakland!”

Small arcs of electricity danced across the table, all stemming from Sebek’s grip. Yuu didn't care; they scooped up and plunked back down with Grim in their lap. They casually pantomimed lifting something off their plate, observing the non-existent food dripping in their hand. Grim in turn snatched up a spoon and shoveled up a mass of nothing and wrenched it back.

“Hey, Sebek: why don’t’cha make like a tree and get outta here?” Yuu recited, before flinging the imaginary slab of food across the table. Grim let his spoonful of ammo fly as well, but immediately gasped in surprise.

Something connected.

A spatter of mashed potatoes and slab of Salisbury steak clung to the half-fae’s face for a moment. Sebek wasn't sure why he'd flinched when they ‘tossed’ their ammo, but to have actual food slap him in the face left him stunned. His bright green eyes bored back in shock as the steak and potatoes slid down his blazer. Across the table, Yuu, Grim, Ace and Deuce were equally stunned. Glances danced back and forth between the soiled Sebek and the once-empty dinnerware.

“Wait, how did you do that?” Ace gasped.

“I…I just thought…maybe cause I got Grim here…?” Yuu murmured. Proximity, maybe? Grim’s innate magical reserves, sparked into action by Yuu’s imagination?

They continued to ponder as their and everyone else’s eyes wandered the suddenly expansive spread of food people had picked out. Pasta, steak and gravy, salads, burgers and sandwiches, and an especially colorful assortment of desserts laid before everyone. 

Grim wasted no time. He dove into the dish before him, cackling with manic victory. It became everyone’s cue to dig in before the period was up. Sebek clawed the mess off of his face before storming off. His face grew hot at the notion he -one of Draconia’s knights- had been clobbered with food and brow-beat by a ‘lowly’ human. He snatched at an apple to angrily chew on the situation. 

Yuu, at that point, was so emotionally spent that they couldn't really find themselves hungry anymore. Grim was more than happy to take their stead. They grinned a bit to feel Deuce shaking them by the shoulder in congratulations. 

“Hey, that was actually kinda cool, dude,” Spade said. “I hope he leaves ya alone after this. I wonder if any of the teachers are watching. Maybe you'll get extra credit?”

“Maaan, that’d be your luck, wouldn't it?” Ace whined. “I better not start getting teachers on my ass about you tutoring me.”

“Doubt it,” Yuu chuffed.

“Ya, they'll have ya bein’ tutored by me, y’know~” Grim snickered.

“Doubt that,” Ace grumbled. “Still, gotta hand it to ya: you pulled through. Here, congrats.”

Yuu was still coming down from their squabble, but talking with Deuce didn't let them see what Ace was offering to congratulate them. They turned back, only to get a spatter of mousse square on the nose. A few giggles, Epel offering some himself, came from the table behind Yuu. The Prefect snerked, appreciative of the ‘gesture’. It erupted into a full cackle, bringing more folks in to join. Ace howled at the sight, until he too got a gauntlet-throwing slap across the face with another flap of steak. 

Thus opened the food flood gates. 

┌───────────────────═━┈━═───────────────────┐

Up in the window sill, second and third year students clung, flew and hovered to catch a peek at the first years. A certain pair, Diasomnia’s housewarden and vice lead, spied over the proceedings with intrigue. This hadn't happened before. Not a food fight, and certainly not the exercise executed by someone without magic.

“Do be sure to talk with Sebek when he gets back. He looks like he could use a little pick-me-up,” Lilia cooed.

But Malleus wasn't paying mind to Lilia. His focus had honed in on the Prefect. They recognized the sight of them around that Ramshackle building. Even though they were able to imagine the food out of hiding, they still had that void of an aura all non-magical folk lacked. Curious little thing, he thought. He’s been avoiding the old mansion he used to haunt, with it no longer being his own to wander. At first he remembered having a sort of resentment towards the new tenants, but now that seemed so childish. One of the new tenants had just become quite interesting.

“BANGARAAAANG!” Came crowing out of the Prefect.

Both fae wheeled back to see them having climbed onto a table. Over their head, they held Grim, who chucked a hefty lob of custard out to some unlucky boy below. Their battlecry was met in kind, as was a torrential volley of food right back at the both of them. Yuu instinctively held Grim up to their chest, tucking behind him and letting him receive most of the onslaught. They couldn't help laughing even more to see Grim’s caked face despite his attempts to devour the ammo.

“Fufu, it’s been a while since I've heard that,” said Lilia. “I wonder how those boys are doing, now that I think about it…”

@ceruleancattail @squidwen @thecosmicjackalope @vaporvipermedia @writing-heiress

@oya-oya-okay @k-looking-glass-house @thehollowwriter @rainesol @cyn-write

@heartscrypt @br3adtoasty @jackiecronefield @ruggiethethuggie @hoboyherewego

@achy-boo @oreoskys @oseathepebble @oathofoaks @tunabesimpin

@hamstergal @fumikomiyasaki @valse-a-mille-temps @hallowed-delights

@kimikitti @cyanide-latte @thetwstwildcard @atwstedstory @comingyourlugubriousness

@ice-cweam-sod4 @twst-the-night-away @nammanarin @scint1llat3 @tixdixl

[waivyjellyfish]

I always have a hard time picturing it for my writing -- what do you think Es' day-to-day life is like in Milgram? What are their routines/conversations like?

Difficult but fun questions. Thank you, Beans.✨ It was fun to think about.

Daily routine: I’m almost 100% sure that Es loves to test their body and therefore they has totally full schedule. Not a single free minute. So they would have thrown meals out of the schedule, if Jackalope didn't insist that Es should at least at lunch get out of their burrow to eat.

Conversations: Teh, well that’s a little more complicated because I still can’t talk and imagine conversations normally. Probably the first time Es shunned their surroundings and talked with prisoners only on topics concerning domestic and working matters: What to cook for dinner?(Cooking, of course, Jackalope) Which items can be ordered and which ones cannot. Additional interviews?(based on the new minigram)

Then they all got used to each other a little bit and started talking about more diverse topics. The child with missing memory had no normal topics for talking about something other than the everyday life and books on psychology and laws they read, so if they talked to prisoners, then they probably listened more (gaining showtime).

Then their opinion was formed and even the rarely arising arguings became clearly more diverse in arguments. Of course, Es tried to avoid too friendly communication and keep some sort of discipline, but still liked they it or not they became very attached to the Milgram inhabitants, even if they constantly slapped themself down.

Although definitely longest Es' contacts was with Jackalope.

How Es' schedule could look like:

6:00 - wake up, bath, breakfast (optional) 7:00 - morning rounds, checking the list of things to do today 8:00 - help Jackalope to set the table 9:00 - breakfast (prisoners), 10:00 - check if all prisoners are awake 11:00 - 12:00 - Paperwork 13:00 - lunch (mandatory, at the Jackalope's insistence) 14:00 - Daily rounds, cleaning (prisoners) 14:30 - 17:30 - Paperwork (again)/taking orders from prisoners/problem solving 18:00 - dinner (possible) 19:00 - 20:40 - Paperwork (all over again)/Boss-caring 21:00 - evening rounds 21:10 - 23:00 - Free time 23:00 - curfew, night rounds, 0?:?? - ???