#if you do either you miss important things

[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[jungwnies]

sfw alphabet | carlos sainz

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for carlos sainz ୨ৎ : word count : 1311

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

very affectionate in his own way—he shows love through actions more than words.

small, consistent gestures like holding your hand, forehead kisses, or brushing your hair out of your face.

he’s affectionate daily, but it feels natural rather than overbearing.

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

as a best friend, he’d be the funny, charming guy who always makes you laugh.

your friendship would start with banter—he’d tease you a lot but in a way that makes you feel special.

he’d invite you to casual outings, and over time, you’d become one of his closest confidants.

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

loves to cuddle, especially after a long day or when he’s relaxed.

he’d be the type to wrap you up tightly, either spooning or with your head on his chest.

he’d stroke your back or play with your hair absentmindedly while you’re cuddling.

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

he definitely wants to settle down eventually, but he’s not in a rush—he prefers to focus on the present.

he’s decent at cooking, with a few spanish dishes he’s mastered, but cleaning isn’t his favorite thing.

he keeps his space tidy enough but would happily let you take the lead on organizing.

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

he’d be honest and straightforward, sitting you down for a heartfelt conversation.

carlos would ensure you understand his reasons and would never leave you with unresolved feelings.

he’d take the blame if necessary and try to leave things on as good terms as possible.

f ⤖ fiancé (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

he’s serious about commitment and wouldn’t propose unless he was 100% sure.

carlos likes to take his time with big steps, so he wouldn’t rush into marriage, but once he’s ready, he’d be all in.

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

very gentle both emotionally and physically.

emotionally, he listens and respects your feelings without judgment.

physically, his touches are soft and caring, always ensuring you’re comfortable.

h ⤖ hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

he loves hugs, especially spontaneous ones.

he’d hug you often—quick hugs throughout the day and longer ones when he misses you or needs comfort.

his hugs are warm, firm, and reassuring, like he’s anchoring you to him.

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

he takes his time to say it, wanting it to feel meaningful and special.

once he’s sure of his feelings, he’d say it in a quiet, heartfelt moment—he’s not one to rush something so important.

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

he doesn’t get jealous easily, but when he does, it’s subtle—he might get a bit quieter or extra protective.

he’d never start an argument about it but might pull you closer or ask for reassurance indirectly.

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

his kisses are slow, intentional, and full of emotion—he doesn’t rush them.

loves kissing your forehead, cheeks, and neck, but his favorite is your lips.

he likes being kissed on his jawline or the corner of his mouth—it makes him smile every time.

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

he’s amazing with kids—playful and patient.

he’d joke around and play games but also knows how to be responsible when needed.

he’d love the idea of being a dad someday, but only when he feels ready.

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

mornings with him are relaxed—he’s not in a rush to get out of bed.

he’d pull you closer for a cuddle before finally getting up, often sneaking in a quick kiss or two.

breakfast would either be something simple he made or an outing to his favorite café.

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

nights with him are cozy and quiet, often spent watching a movie, sharing a glass of wine, or talking about your day.

he’d be attentive, making sure you feel loved and appreciated before bed.

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

he takes time to open up, sharing pieces of himself little by little as trust builds.

he’d start with lighthearted stories but eventually share his deeper thoughts when he feels safe.

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

he’s incredibly patient and not easily angered.

even when frustrated, he prefers to talk things out calmly rather than letting emotions take over.

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

he remembers most things, especially the little quirks that make you happy or things you’ve mentioned in passing.

he’d surprise you by bringing up something you thought he’d forgotten.

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

his favorite moment is probably something simple yet meaningful,

like the first time you laughed at one of his silly jokes or a quiet sunset shared together.

s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

he’s naturally protective, but it’s not overbearing—it’s in the way he holds your hand in a crowd or checks in on you during tough times.

he likes knowing you feel safe with him and would appreciate emotional support when he needs it, too.

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts a lot of effort into things that matter to you—he’s thoughtful and loves planning surprises.

dates are always creative, and he remembers important anniversaries without fail.

y ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

he can be stubborn, especially when he thinks he’s right.

sometimes, he’s so focused on his career or hobbies that he might forget to check in as often as you’d like.

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

he’s definitely mindful of his appearance—he likes looking polished and put-together.

he spends time on his hair and style but isn’t overly vain about it.

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

he’d feel the absence deeply if you weren’t around—he values emotional connections and wouldn’t take your bond lightly.

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

he loves sharing his culture with you—whether it’s introducing you to spanish music, cooking his favorite childhood dishes, or teaching you spanish phrases.

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

he dislikes dishonesty or a lack of trust in a relationship.

he’s also not a fan of overly negative attitudes or people who don’t respect his love for family.

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

he sleeps deeply and usually sprawls out, taking up more space than he realizes.

he loves falling asleep while holding you or at least having some part of him touching you, like your hand or leg.

2021-2024 © jungwnies on tumblr | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ SKZ IN A LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!skz x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! slight angst & mild sex talk

୨ৎ from myeong: hello! so happy to get this request and was excited to do it for you. I hope you enjoy x

ʚɞ BANG CHAN

I don’t want to say “he would hate it!” because he wouldn’t at all but he would miss you and miss you and miss you and miss you even if you both haven’t met yet in person. he has found his home and that of course is you! isn’t that so sweet? cutie chan :(

texts you as soon as he wakes up in the morning to make sure you’ve slept well, are feeling okay, and will eat enough/stay hydrated and with that being said he continues to text you throughout the day to please take care of yourself for him because he’s not there to do it yet. he uses the word yet a lot.

“I miss you.” “I love you, did you know that?”

“have anything going on today?” “be safe baby.”

“call me when you arrive.” “did you eat lunch yet?”

he’ll make time for the both of you to facetime frequently and if not then you’ll both have time to call. he just wants to hear your voice because it’s his favorite sound in the world. if it’s not a good time to call then he’ll send you voice messages and he of course wants voice messages back but only when the time is right for you. he never pushes.

will send you some of his hoodies, tshirts, chains, bracelets, glasses, and sweatpants for you to wear. he’ll just buy new clothes and accessories it really doesn’t matter to him. you’re most important.

he’ll come up with fun games for the both of you to play even if they’re the most random ones ever. he just wants to have fun with you and be able to share memories together so with that being said he asks you to download certain apps that would be fun for you both, “this is going to be so fun!”

phone sex is frequent with him and it wasn’t until you both were comfortable in the relationship! he waited for and with you to be ready. it becomes quite intense if he’s had a really bad day and just needs you and to hear those sweet moans he adores. he won’t ever ask for pictures unless you want to take them yourself and send them to him.

ʚɞ LEE KNOW

when you both met he wasn’t planning on falling for you and getting into a relationship but it was far out of his control once he felt the need to have you in his life and form a relationship together. he knew that the love he had for you was real and important.

will literally buy you every plushie in the world and spray his cologne on it and send them to you. he won’t tell you that the package is coming either, he’ll just send it and tell you there is a surprise waiting for you at the door which always makes you think it’s him but sadly never is. one day it’ll be him!

“hi princess. wanted to call you because I miss the sound of your sweet voice. makes me feel better.”

“your voice is so pretty. I can listen to it all day.”

“can you spend me a picture of you? it can be a silly or cute one I don’t mind. just wanna see you.”

he’ll keep a book of everything that he’s written about you. everything you hate and love and want or need. he keeps it with him at all times so he never forgets anything when wanting to buy you things at stores he comes across. he’s very good at shopping for you even at times he feels he’s not.

when you both facetime he’ll take so many pictures of you and videos even if you say you’re not in the “prettiest” state without makeup or cute clothes on. he finds you to be the most beautiful when you’re your authentic self being lazy at home.

enjoys to tease you with pictures of him shirtless or wearing super tight white tees. he knows that gets you going and wants to see how you react. typically he enjoys it when you call him and whine about him teasing you which leads to you not having phone sex if the time is right of course.

ʚɞ CHANGBIN

he’ll try to find ways to see you one way or another. especially if you’ve already met once or twice he’ll do what he can to meet you another time and make it longer this time around but if not? if you haven’t met at all yet then he’ll take things slow and wait for you to be 100% comfortable with him as your boyfriend of course. that doesn’t stop him from missing you and wanting to see you though.

sometimes you both argue about very small things and it’s nothing serious! but he just gets upset if he plans to finally come see you and they don’t work out well. either he’s gotten way too busy or it’s just not a good time for you. he’ll constantly apologize to you and swear to make it up somehow and it always makes you feel much better. you hate arguing with the man you love the most.

sends you good morning voice messages that you love so much. it never fails! every single morning he sends them to you and he knows that it helps you have a much better day. also goodnight messages as well if you don’t call or have time to facetime.

“where’s my pretty baby?” “can we call tonight?”

“I might’ve sent you a little something, okay?”

“wanna see your pretty face..send me something.”

absolutely loves calling or facetiming you while he’s writing songs because it helps him focus better. if it’s a song about you he won’t say a word about it until he knows he’s completely finished.

will set his phone up so you can watch him move around his room, clean up, or even record music in the studio. he wants you to be there through all of that because he can bond with you even more.

ʚɞ HYUNJIN

the sweetest boy ): he’s the perfect boyfriend even if you two aren’t physically together. he does all that he possibly can to make things easy and sweet for the both of you while you’re long distance.

“hey baby! can we hang out today? I have nothing to do and I thought we could facetime and I could read to you! I found a book I’m really enjoying.”

enjoys sending you so many videos of him dancing, drawing, painting, and playing some random sport. absolutely loves being active and he knows you love seeing it so he makes sure to document everything he does to send to you.

will send you so many of the books he’s finished so you can read them too and he’ll want to talk about it when you’re finished so be prepared for long hours of on the phone talking about the books.

“I love you. I know we aren’t together right now but never doubt me. I’ll make sure it happens soon.”

he sometimes likes to invite the others to say hello to you but most of the time he likes to be alone with you. in his eyes it’s very intimate and it’s very important for the relationship to have those moments together. he doesn’t like when his time with you is interrupted by something. at all.

he’ll take you with when he showers. places his phone against the wall and will sing to you while you watch him or he’ll want you to take a shower at the same time so it seems you’re together.

“you’re so pretty wish I could kiss you right now.”

“can you just lean in? maybe kiss the camera?”

“I know it sounds weird but please? just wanna kiss so bad and you look so perfect right now.”

he’ll send you photos of him shirtless or showing his bulge just to tease you and see what your reaction might be. once he knows what your reaction is he’ll do it often especially when he gets super comfortable with you. he becomes bold.

paints the most beautiful pictures of you and sends that to you so you’re able to hang them up in your room. he thinks about you 24/7 and at random times gets the urge to draw you or for you.

ʚɞ HAN

cutie!! his smile brightens your entire day when you see him answer the facetime call. he normally just likes to facetime. sure he’ll call you but that’s not his most favorite. he wants to see your pretty face and watch your facial expressions while taking about your day or how your week is going so far.

movie dates!! he’ll set up his phone perfectly or laptop so you’re able to see the movie and him or you play the same movie on your tv and you both just lay next to each other the best you can.

very silly so he’ll make jokes a lot during the movie or make fun of the character if they’re doing something stupid. he loves hearing your laugh so he’ll do anything to hear it as much as he can.

of course he sends you plenty of gifts and a lot of them will be items from his room that he thinks you should have but deep down he also enjoys it when you send him things of yours. one night you were on facetime and seen he had been sleeping with one of your shirts that he said he loved so much.

“I’m so glad you sent it to me, I love it more than anything else in my room! want to see how much?”

he then proceeds to show you just how much he loves the shirt you sent him even if it was one of your favorite shirts to wear, seeing him so happy only made you feel the happiest in the world.

“can we have a date tonight? I can set up something for us! want to see what I can do?”

this man goes out of his way to make it look like a fancy date even though it’s nothing fancy at all and you two just stare at each other through the camera while smiling, and laughing at nothing.

will kiss the camera and make little “muah” sounds for you. he thinks it’s super cute to do that and knows that you find it cute as well so he does it often. sometimes the “muah” becomes much more on the naughty side and he’ll ask you questions about what you’d do with him if you were there.

ʚɞ FELIX

soft, sweet, clingy, and thoughtful boyfriend! that describes him perfectly and how he feels about the long distance isn’t negative at all. in his mind he’s not bothered by it because at least he has you in his life. he could be super unlucky and not have you at all. he’s just so thankful to be your boyfriend.

“want to come shopping with me? I’ll put my headphones in so I can hear you better and you can help me pick out a few new outfits for you, yeah?”

you get to watch him play soccer or swim which is your favorite! he’s got one of those phone cases that allow you to go underwater with and he takes you just so you two can have a underwater kiss.

you’re close with his sisters and always message them and in return? they send you so many cute photos of felix when he was a baby or toddler. you adore those photos and eventually get them printed out so you can have them safe and sound.

“should we bake together? cook together? we can make the same recipe and it’ll be fun, hm?”

he’ll sing to you. request any song you’d like to hear and he’ll sing it for you but you always end up falling asleep which he adores but takes so many screenshots of you because he thinks you’re cute.

texts you many times a day asking if everything is going okay and if you’re eating well for him. he knows you like it when he checks on you and of course he’s genuinely concerned about you at all times during the day especially if he can’t call you.

not so much into sending teasing photos since he’s not too confident with taking them but if you’re open to sending him pictures he’s never going to tell you no. he keeps them and looks at them when he’s alone and able to tell you how good you look in whatever it is you’re wearing.

“you’re my perfect girl and I adore you. I’m so glad you’re my girlfriend it just makes me much happier. we can see each other soon, okay? I promise.”

ʚɞ SEUNGMIN

shares absolutely everything with you and what I mean by that? he calls, texts, or sends voice messages rather quickly to tell you about what he’s doing or what he found out and that could mean his schedule, a show he watched, or on the news.

“can we wear our matching pjs while facetiming?”

if you don’t answer him the first time for whatever reason say you didn’t hear him correctly or you were doing something then he’ll ask you again but in a smaller voice because he’s become shy about it

“I..was wondering..if we can wear our matching pjs when we—um facetime? would that be okay?”

this man is so happy when you say yes to him and jumps up from his seat to hurry up and put his pjs on even if it’s a few more hours before you call.

with him he enjoys the long distance at first and of course he’s never going to complain about it but he’s always been a bit more shy and he opened up so much more the longer you two have spoken and gotten to know each other. he plans to make a trip out to see you and make it a huge surprise for you.

I know I just spoke about him being shy but when he gets a sudden boost of confidence that he can’t really explain.. that’s when it becomes dangerous and by that I mean he’s more dominant and willing to tell you things that he would be too hesitant about when he’s not feeling this weird confidence.

“I think about you so much during the day and just imagine what it would be like to have you here with me. was thinking about flying you out here because I just really want and need you. is that okay?”

will buy you expensive jewelry and send it to you because he wants you to feel and look pretty in them and of course you have to show him what it looks like in either pictures or a facetime call.

ʚɞ I.N

love this man he’s okay with the long distance because it’s you but if it was anyone else then no and I’m just being honest about it. he’s fallen deeply in love with you and will manage with the long distance until you can both be together.

when you both decide to call each other he’s a huge tease and doesn’t let you live but in a very playful way of course because that’s just how he is.

enjoys making you flustered and seeing how shy you get when you look away from the camera or cover your face with your hands and hide away from him, he loves that for some weird reason.

“you’re so cute! wish I could kiss you right now”

“I’ve had thoughts about us making out.. those are always so nice. what do you think about that, hm?”

he’s named his pillow after you and shows you in pictures how he cuddles with it and then proceeds to kiss it and act as if it’s you—you’ll call him weird and he begs to differ! he thinks it’s very cute and normal of him to act as if that’s you in his bed

he can get pretty sexual pretty easily and quickly but only if he thinks you’ll be okay with in or in the mood then he gets bold with asking for certain requests from you like.. for example, sitting on the bed a certain way or putting your pillow in between your legs and telling you to slowly grind on it.

he smiles the entire time and has the most cutest face possible but he really enjoys just being with you and teasing you or making fun of you in a good way it’s not annoying or rude in any shape or form.

he’ll ask you exactly what you want or need and buy it for you without hearing anything else. he’ll send you large boxes of snacks, clothes, accessories, some of his belongings, and random things he found that he knew you’d love.

this took way longer that it should have! so sorry but please enjoy it x

[fandoms-x-reader]

Mother Figure

Oneshot

Requested By: @ambitiouslady

Summary: Lucifer and his brothers with an MC where Lucifer acts as the strict father figure and MC acts as the gentle mother figure. Lucifer x Reader (Romantically) The Other Demon Brothers x Reader (Familial) Word Count: 1,322

A/N: The reader is referred to as a mother figure but there are no feminine pronouns.

When you first got to the Devildom, you had no idea what was in store for you. You had no idea what to expect in a situation where a human has to live with a group of demons and has to adjust to their way of living.

You didn’t expect to grow so close to the demon brothers and you didn’t expect them to be such troublemakers either.

Sometimes, they would try to involve you in their schemes, but most of the time, you were the one they came to after their plan inevitably failed or when Lucifer caught them. They found solace in you.

Lucifer would give them a long and terrible lecture about their wrongdoings while discussing their punishment.

And when he was finally done with his scolding, they would seek out comfort from you.

You had a way of always putting them at ease. Even though, most of the time, you agreed with Lucifer.

Sometimes the brothers were a bit too reckless and you knew that most of the time, Lucifer’s lectures came from a place of deep care for his brothers. He didn’t want anything to happen to them. And in this mind, the only way to stop them from doing it again was to punish them.

He didn’t see that his punishments didn’t work as effectively as he wished. Luckily, he had you there to help emphasize his point.

You would gently reproach their actions, telling them everything that could go wrong before defending the things Lucifer was saying.

The difference was, they actually listened to you. You had a way of getting through to them - something Lucifer was envious of and something he admired very deeply.

The way that you took care of his brothers (and him) and never complained made him fall for you more and more every day.

You were someone he respected and someone he could depend on and that was something that Lucifer was sorely missing in his daily life.

Before long, you and Lucifer were acting in sync as honorary parents to the brothers. And with your help, some order was restored to the House of Lamentation.

Mammon would go to the casino, but he wouldn’t stay out all night or gamble away every last dime he had. And you even got him to turn his assignments in on time.

Levi had learned to spend more time out of his room, actually interacting with the people he called his family. And he cut back on his spending on Akuzon.

Satan still liked to keep to himself, but he noticed that Lucifer was much more tolerable whenever you were with him.

Asmo used to stay out multiple nights at the club and would return when he felt like it; but, after expressing your concerns, he made sure to come home at a reasonable time.

Beel learned to control his ravaging of the fridge and pantry. He was rewarded by your delicious cooking whenever he resisted his temptation, and he came to learn that was always better than eating anything and everything.

Belphie was able to stay awake at least to do the important things - like school and chores. You couldn’t even remember how long it had been since he and Satan came up with an Anti-Lucifer League scheme.

And Lucifer couldn’t remember a time when he had been happier. It was like you came into his life, picked up all of the pieces, and fixed everything. 

In his mind, you were the perfect addition to the family, and the way you loved all of them - the way you loved him - meant everything to him.

For once, Lucifer could admit that things were nearly perfect. But then, his brothers went missing.

It had been two days since either of you heard from them and the worry lines were about to become permanent on your faces.

You did your best to try and comfort Lucifer and keep him calm as you both searched for them. But, he was teetering on a very fine line of losing his mind, and to be honest, so were you.

You needed to find them - quickly. Because you were sure that Lucifer would uproot all three realms to find them if he had to.

He continuously reached out to his connections around the Devildom while you continued to text and call the brothers - hoping one of them would eventually answer.

Then one day, as you were noticing the dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes from lack of sleep, the front door to the House opened. 

You held your breath as you both rushed to the door and watched as all six of his brothers walked in with sheepish expressions on their faces.

You were relieved, just glad they were okay, and you immediately approached them to hug them.

As you did, you noticed they were injured and you ushered them into the living room to tend to their wounds.

As you passed by Lucifer, you noticed the look of anger on his face and you braced yourself for the long lecture that he was about to give.

And long was an understatement. You felt like Lucifer went on for years as he harshly scolded them.

You did your best to interject with phrases like, “We were really worried about you,” and, “It would kill us if something happened to you.”

By the time you were done patching up their wounds, Lucifer was done talking and walked off to go to his room for the night.

You gave them all a small smile and they could feel the love you had for them without you having to state it.

They didn’t say it often enough but they were so grateful that of all the choices, you were the human that came into their life.

“Get some rest,” you told them gently, knowing they all desperately needed it. They looked exhausted. And you could always talk more tomorrow.

You watched them all go to bed before heading up to Lucifer’s room. You knocked softly but he already knew who it was before you did.

He invited you in and when you entered, you saw him sitting on his bed, his usual vest and tie off. You noticed he looked a bit more relaxed now as his shirt was somewhat unbuttoned and his hair was a bit messier than usual.

You came to sit by him on the bed and he looked at you, his black and red eyes shining with love for you.

“They’re okay,” you told him and he let out a deep breath in response. You swore you could physically see the tension release from his muscles as the feeling of relief flooded his body.

He wasn’t good at admitting it. He believed he always had to keep up the strong and strict personality of the first-born. But, he was worried.

You gently took his hand in yours and you couldn’t help but smile as you thought about him.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing the way your lips had turned upwards. “You’re a great big brother,” you replied, in a gently teasing voice.

Lucifer let out a scoff but you could see the blush rise to his cheeks and for once, he didn’t have the energy to deny your allegations.

To take the attention off himself he gently stroked your cheek and told you, “I’m lucky to have you. We all are.”

He smirked as you were now wearing a blush of your own before gently placing his lips on yours. “Thank you,” he said barely above a whisper as he intensely gazed into your eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

And it was in those moments that you felt lucky to have them.

[dykedvonte]

Hi, I am sorry if someone already asked you this and I completely missed it, but why do you think Anya asked for Jimmy’s help to feed Curly his pills? Swansea and Daisuke were still high-functioning and available when she asked for help. I am having a hard time understanding her thought process about leaving his patient at the mercy of her rapist, someone she was afraid so much that she felt the need to hide gun. Not to mention, she hid that gun under a secret drawer of Curly’s med bay bed too. If I was Anya, I would be scared of the possibility of Jimmy accidentally finding the gun the most. Yet she still took that risk.

We know that it shows how Jimmy can force things to people without their consent, but this is a very meta reasoning, and it says nothing about Anya’s thought process imho. I don’t think Anya was quietly and secretly taking revenge on Curly either. I interpret it as mix of wishful thinking and submission born out of fear due to Jimmy’s new captain status, but I am curious about your analysis as a psych major.

I personally think with the gun, Anya was not concerned about him finding it or looking for in medical. He doesn't know she specifically hid the gun and of all the places he'd look he wouldn't assume she'd keep it in medical, mainly cause he likely believed Curly preemptively hid it instead. Part of the reason I think he committed to crashing the ship is his belief Curly was no longer in his corner in a major way, confronting him about Anya finally proves as much to him but perhaps believing Curly hid the gun, believing that Curly thinks he's dangerous, and that he's screwed at all front at that point.

Anya probably assumed he'd never look under Curly post-crash and she was right in that assumption despite how risky. To be honest, we can take her trying to relieve him of the dealing with Curly is tied to her getting more panicked by the idea of him finding the more he lingers in medical.

I have talked about why she would even ask Jimmy in the first place and honestly I can chalk up the first time he feeds Curly to Anya wanting to get away from him, since he is demeaning and pointed to her the entire conversation since the other times she is comfortable and even implies she's been taking care of Curly herself between the segments Jimmy does it. It's been picked up by some other people but Anya is likely just giving him the tasks because he needs something to do to feel useful and feel fulfilled in the now worthless role as "Captain". I don't think she assumed he'd be so violent with Curly and even if she noticed what is she supposed to say that won't make Jimmy take it out on her or Curly more?

I have to say Anya is consistently concerned in the game with protecting herself and keeping herself safe. I don't think in the moment that she was 100% concerned about Curly being harmed compared to herself. It sounds selfish but its just a basic fear response. She fawns and tries to make Jimmy feel important even tho he's not because it keeps her safe. Making it seem like too much for her or letting him do it after he is aggressive with her or after the likely heavy/nerve-wracking convo with Swansea are all things were she just doesn't want him around anymore. Even if it would be better for Curly for her to stand ground and insist to do it, there is the likely going to be at cost of her mental security and even physical safety when it comes to Jimmy.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

If you're still taking Heartstopper hug prompts, I'd love to see either the desperate hug or the hug you don't deserve. Thank you!

i'm sorry this took so long!! and i kinda forgot what the prompt was and it just kinda got shoehorned in at the end. whoops. i had this idea for a long time and i ended up thinking it just kinda fit with this, so i hope you enjoy!

18. tight and desperate 28. the hug you don’t deserve

Charlie didn't even know how the argument had started. He certainly hadn't intended it, but maybe he should have predicted Nick’s reaction, should have known where the line of conversation would go. Maybe a part of him had wanted it, had been provoking Nick with subconscious purpose. 

The thing was he couldn't have expected this reaction, because Nick’s go-to wasn't to argue. Not with Charlie. They'd had their fair share, but it took Nick time to lose his patience and respond to Charlie's anger or frustration. This time it was all the more confusing because Charlie hadn't been angry. He was fairly sure his tone had been free of spite, that there was no edge, that Nick shouldn't have suspected a double meaning or hidden barb, because there wasn't any. 

Charlie had made a throwaway comment about Nick missing his local chippy when he went to uni, and Nick had set his food down with a clatter and said, “Do we have to do this again?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't want to argue about uni.”

“I wasn't trying to argue,” Charlie protested, still trying to keep his voice gentle. 

Nick visibly bit back a response. “It just usually ends up that way.”

Charlie wanted to say that wasn't his fault, but he swallowed the urge. He wasn't trying to argue; it just always seemed to be a sensitive subject. But it had already gotten as bad as it could get, when Charlie had thought for days he'd lost Nick, and they'd worked it out. They wouldn't let that happen again. Charlie, if anything, wanted to start emphasising that by making the idea feel normal. Nick would leave, and they would be apart, and Charlie was growing to accept it. But it was clear neither of them felt normal about it, still. 

Nick seemed to intentionally soften, taking a moment to lower his shoulders and smooth his expression before talking to Charlie more gently. “I'd just rather not talk about it. I just want to have a chill night with takeaway and a film.”

“That's fine,” Charlie said, but the thought kept nudging at him, and he kept going. “But I don't want you to feel like you can't talk about it. I know I—I got upset and blew up at you about it before. But we worked through it. And now I'm more scared if…if we keep avoiding it, eventually you'll just want to avoid me.” Nick’s eyes flickered, and Charlie pressed on before things did stumble into argument territory. “When you're at uni you'll definitely want to talk about it then, and I don't want that to put you off talking to me. Or make you feel like you shouldn't be happy there, in case I'm upset here. I do just want you to be happy, Nick.”

It was more earnestness than Nick had been looking for or than the conversation likely invited, but it felt suddenly important to express, to have Nick know. Nick was usually the one giving Charlie these emotional reassurances. It was only fair that Charlie get to be the one throwing Nick off now and again. 

But Nick wasn't thrown off, or openly besotted with Charlie's speech. He looked away entirely. “You know I'm not happy all the time?”

Charlie blinked. His heart thudded. Of course he knew that. No one was happy all the time; he knew that better than anyone. Why was that Nick’s response now, though? Was he unhappy right now? Was he saying he wasn't always happy with Charlie? “I'd think you were crazy if you were,” Charlie decided to respond, still light and reassuring and hopefully leaving room for Nick to elaborate. 

“I wasn't happy when we were apart before.”

Nick looked at him again, and Charlie's stomach twisted. They hadn't had this conversation in a while. It was always there—it would never go away—but it wasn't persistent anymore. Charlie knew it linked into uni talk. He'd been waiting for it to come up, truthfully. 

That didn't make him any happier about it.

“This won't be anything like that, though,” Charlie said softly. 

“Won't it? I'll still only get to talk to you on the phone, unless I travel hours to see you, and neither of us can know how often we'll get to do that.”

Well. Charlie supposed he couldn't argue with that. “But it'll be different. We'll both be kept busy and you won't be stuck home, worrying about me. You'll be able to actually have fun.” Charlie would be doing his A-levels, and without Nick and Tori, and decidedly not having fun, but he would manage. He had his friends, and he had Geoff, and despite how much he'd rather not have so much of his parents, sometimes, they wouldn't let him die, so there was that. 

It wouldn't do them any good to mention that now. Nick was already clearly struggling with something, and the last thing Charlie wanted was to add to it. There was no need to make Nick feel guilty. Again. 

“I always worry about you,” Nick said quietly. Charlie's face dropped, and Nick shook his head. “Not because I think you can't manage or because I don't trust you or anything. It's not just because you've been ill. It's like…like how I worry about Mum.”

That piqued Charlie's curiosity, immediately distracting him from the initial zip of anger. He reached over and took Nick’s hand. “Can you explain that a bit more?”

Nick glanced at the coffee table, where their takeout lay abandoned. “The food’s gonna be cold,” he mumbled. “Sorry, I shouldn't have started this while we were eating.”

Charlie was not about to remind Nick that a moment ago, he'd been mad at Charlie for ‘starting it’. Nick already looked so downhearted; there was no need to start an entirely different argument. Which was why Charlie didn't rebuke him for using the s-word, either. The best tactic at this point was to accept the diversion. “It should still be fine. How about we finish it and then we can go up to your room?”

Nick smiled, grateful for the easy shift. Charlie pretended not to notice Nick sneaking glances at him as they ate. He managed to mechanically make his way through his meal while distracting himself thinking over what Nick said. It almost sounded like Nick was saying he didn't think he'd be happy, going to uni. But that couldn't be right. He'd been nothing but excited since deciding he wanted to go to Leeds. He'd been a bit quiet lately, but not so out of character that Charlie had been concerned. Maybe he should have been paying more attention. 

Nick finished eating before him, but stayed sitting quietly, sipping at his drink. When Charlie set his own empty dish down and rose, offering Nick his hand, Nick smiled adoringly up at him. He took Charlie's hand and stood, only to immediately bundle Charlie in a hug. 

Charlie huffed, half-amused and half-concerned, and tucked his arms around Nick's waist. “What's this for?” he asked quietly. 

“Can't I just hug you?” Nick mumbled into his hair. 

Charlie simply squeezed him in response. 

After a moment, Nick continued. “I just—I really love you.”

Charlie pulled back to look at him. His concern was getting a little louder, but Nick didn't look upset. His gaze was full of its usual warmth. Charlie squeezed his sides again. “I love you too.” He leaned in to peck Nick's lips, and was granted another smile. “Let's clean this up and go cuddle.”

Nick obliged with enthusiasm. By the time they were lying in Nick’s room, Nick seemed to have shook off whatever he'd been feeling. He lay contently on Charlie's chest, and Charlie was loath to break it. 

But he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been missing something, and now that it had creeped into the light, he couldn't ignore it. Not if Nick was unhappy because of it. 

“What did you mean before?” Charlie asked, because that seemed like the easiest way to bring it back up. 

“Hm?” Nick sounded sleepy. Charlie stopped playing with his hair and instead let his hand lay there, cupping Nick’s head. 

“When you said that you worry about me like you worry about your mum.”

There was a small pause. Charlie wasn't sure if it was because Nick was sleepy or because he was delaying responding. “Oh. Sorry, that probably doesn't make any sense.”

“Can you make it make sense? Give an example, maybe?”

Nick adjusted, curling more onto his front—and more onto Charlie—and tightening his hold around Charlie's waist before easing it again. “I dunno. It's like, how you worry about anyone you love. And it just…feels like it would be worse, further away. I know me being here wouldn't stop it, but I just hate the thought of someone I love struggling or getting sick or anything when I'm not there. It's not that I don't think you can manage without me—it's not really anything to do with you to begin with. Anything can just happen. Something could happen to Nellie or Henry, or Mum could get sick, or there could be an accident and any one of you could—”

“Nick,” Charlie cut him off. “Hey.”

He cupped Nick's cheek, urging him to look up. When Nick only pressed his face closer to Charlie's neck, Charlie shifted back and slid his body down until they were lying face to face, keeping Nick held in his hands. 

Nick's eyes were vaguely misty. He blinked a few times quickly while looking at Charlie, then he focused somewhere around Charlie's chin. “Sorry. I told you it doesn't make any sense.”

Charlie shook his head. “No. Like you said, I think everyone does worry about that sort of thing.” Charlie was fairly chronically anxious, so he would know. But when those thoughts came to him, they were some of the more fleeting. Charlie was able to brush them off as irrational much more easily than the thoughts about how awful he himself was, etcetera. This didn't seem like it would be helpful to share; it sounded like more than a fleeting thought to Nick. “Do you think about that a lot, though?”

Nick shrugged as best he could while lying down. 

“Is that why you've been down lately? You're thinking about…being worried a lot when you're away?” Charlie understood that, to an extent. Surprisingly, it wasn't one of the things he felt the need to have in his control, because he knew it was impossible. Like Nick said, his presence or his will wouldn't do anything to change or stop an accident or illness. Charlie had always been aware of that, and that made the lack of control easier to accept.

But he knew how terrifying that lack could feel. 

But Nick said, “No. I mean, it doesn't help. It's crossed my mind a lot. But I haven't been—I'm not obsessing over it, or anything.”

Charlie's lips pursed. He couldn't help it. 

“Not—” Nick’s eyes widened. “God, I didn't mean—fuck, I'm making a right mess of this.” He covered his face with a hand, tilting his chin down. 

“It's fine,” Charlie said softly. “I know you didn't mean anything by it.” Gently, he curled his hand around Nick’s and brought it down, laying their interlocked fingers in the small gap between them. Nick gave him a little smile, hesitant and apologetic. Charlie smiled back, equally unsure. “But if it's not this…is there something else?”

Nick's eyes flickered away again. He twitched his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug. 

Charlie slid closer to him, letting Nick's weight pull him in, the dip in the mattress widening to hold them both together. Charlie slotted a knee between Nick’s and pushed a hand back into Nick's hair. He scratched at Nick's scalp and tipped their heads together, until his forehead rested on Nick’s and Nick’s breath brushed his lips. 

It took one beat, two, for Nick to settle under the embrace. His body relaxed even as his hand curled in Charlie's hoodie and his eyes closed. Charlie stayed silent. Pushing Nick wouldn't do any good, but Charlie could always offer this. Nick bloomed under affection; nothing seemed to make him more comfortable than Charlie's touch, so Charlie offered it as frequently and freely as he could. Maybe it wouldn't make Nick talk to him—he didn't want to make Nick talk to him—but hopefully it would remind him that he could, because Charlie was here and he loved him and he wasn't going anywhere, regardless of how much distance might separate them. Hopefully it would make him feel safe enough to try. 

Eventually, Nick spoke in a whisper. “It's not about your illness. But I have been thinking a lot about what it was like, when you were in the clinic.”

Charlie squashed down his unease. “What about it?”

“It just…of course it sucked because I was worried about you and our contact was so limited, but it—it mostly sucked being by myself.”

It was hard to read Nick's expression, even when Charlie pulled back an inch to look. Charlie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nick's eyes fluttered open, but he kept his gaze down to where he was fiddling with the string on Charlie's (Nick’s) hoodie. “It was the first time I'd really been without you since we met, and I'd forgotten what it was like.” He looked up at Charlie. “You know the first time Mum met you, she said I was more myself around you?”

Charlie hadn't known that. He couldn't say it surprised him, exactly—he'd known from the start that Nick was different around him—but it was nice to think Sarah had not only noticed, but approved so early on. Charlie just shook his head in response to Nick. 

“I couldn't figure out what she meant,” Nick said, and it sounded like an admission. “Not because I didn't think I was different around you—I knew you were different—but because I didn't know how she could tell it was more me. I didn't even know what that was.”

This wasn't what Charlie had expected. The thought that Nick would be worried over something like this would never have even crossed Charlie's mind. He knew Nick struggled in the early stages of their relationship—who didn’t, when discovering their sexuality—but aside from that, Nick had always seemed so thoroughly Nick. He was gentle and open and silly and sporty and strong in his beliefs, even when he doubted himself. He'd said it with such confidence before. I like who I am. I like my life.

Charlie played a factor in that, surely, but his distance wouldn't make that much of a difference. Would it? 

“I do,” Charlie said softly. “I know. You're wonderful, Nick.”

“I wasn't, though, was I?” Nick cut in before Charlie could give the rest of what he'd planned to say. “Before I met you, I…it was like I was just being pulled along. I was just existing. I wasn't this great, lovely person you make me out to be.”

Charlie had no idea what to think of that, never mind how to respond. All that left his mouth was a sad, wobbly, “Nick.”

He hadn't known Nick thought of himself that way. He'd known, especially at the beginning, that Nick was harder on himself than he ought to be, and it wasn't just about struggling to come out. Even since before they'd gotten together, he seemed to harbour guilt. From what Charlie could remember, Nick hadn't even been a present witness to his mistreatment—and Charlie would remember Nick, he was sure. But Nick had heard the gossip and the insults and, in his opinion, hadn't done enough to counteract it.

In Charlie's opinion, no one had, and that had never been Nick's fault or responsibility. But he understood where Nick was coming from. 

That didn't change how Charlie saw him, though. It didn't change how Nick was. 

“I know what you mean,” Charlie eventually continued, when Nick did nothing but breathe heavily and blink sadly at him. “But listen to what you're saying. You weren't bad then, and that wasn't you. Even your mum could see that.” Charlie poked Nick's chest. “But you've had me for over two years now, and you've done nothing but prove how great and lovely you are. You can't fake that, and it won't disappear when we're apart. I know who you are, Nick, and you're my favourite person.”

Nick's eyes grew misty, and he burrowed into Charlie's chest before he could start to cry. Charlie wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders and head and cradled him close, pressing a kiss to his crown and stroking the hair at his nape. 

“I didn't let you see how bad it was, though,” Nick whispered, his voice choppy and wet. “Char, it made me miserable. It felt like—like I was sleepwalking, and I couldn't do anything and nothing could reach me when you weren't there. And I know, I know, I was only that miserable because I was so worried but Char, you don't understand. You went there and you made things better for yourself and you've grown so, so much in the past year and a half and I just—I don't know how to do that. I don't know if I can do that on my own.”

Charlie absorbed that, then again pulled back and urged Nick to look up at him, holding Nick’s face in his hands. “I think that's exactly why you need to do it,” he said softly. 

Nick sniffed, hard, but didn't protest. 

“And you won't be on your own,” Charlie continued. “We might not be ten minutes from each other, but that doesn't mean I won't be there for you. I'd never leave you on your own, Nick. Neither will Tara and Darcy, or any of our other friends.”

“You can't be sure of that, though.”

“I know I can't promise you things won't change. But I'm not going anywhere,” Charlie enunciated each word, leaning closer until they were nose to nose. “You at least have to believe that.”

Nick's eyes flit back and forth between Charlie's. He seemed to be battling with what he wanted to say. Eventually he came out with, “I don't want to become someone you don't like.”

Charlie's heart twisted, but alongside it was a twinge of relief. They were getting to the root of the problem, and it was much more manageable than Charlie had thought. Charlie had enough experience with this kind of self doubt to know it could be worked through, especially with the right support, and Charlie would do everything in his power to provide that. 

“I'm fairly sure that's impossible,” Charlie said. “But do you want to tell me how you think that could happen?”

Nick closed his eyes again, and his shoulders shifted in another weak shrug. “I don't know. Look at what's happening right now. It's selfish, I don't deserve you comforting me when I'm the one who's leaving and you should—”

Charlie cut him off by enveloping him in another hug with a loud shush. It felt like they'd been hugging for an hour by now, and still every time Nick wrapped around him it seemed tighter, more desperate. Charlie didn't know if he was failing that miserably at easing Nick's concerns or if this was Nick's natural need for touch. 

“You're allowed to ask for help, Nick.” Charlie spoke into Nick's hair. “I never want you to pretend you're not upset because you think I might be. Okay? Please.”

Nick murmured something like an apology, and Charlie shushed him again. “I don't want how we are to change,” Nick mumbled. “If the few times we get to see each other it starts to just feel awkward or sad and it'll be just like when Dad—”

Nick cut himself off abruptly, but Charlie had heard it. And here, he realised, was the root. He mentally kicked himself. He should have seen that connection a mile away.

They didn't talk about it often. Nick had ranted to Charlie about his dad a few times, after they'd met up in Paris and their debacle of a dinner and when he failed to show up for holidays as promised, though Nick always said it was expected. Charlie knew his feelings about his father were complicated, and that anger and disappointment held a lot of that space, but he'd always thought it best to let Nick bring it up on his own terms. Unless he was mentioned, Charlie avoided asking, and perhaps that had been a mistake. 

He hugged Nick tighter, more desperately, to give himself time to work out what to say. 

He settled on an apology. “I'm sorry, Nick. I should have known what this was about.”

Nick's reply came slow, and his voice was thick. “I don't even think I knew.” He took a heaving breath. “God, that's pathetic.”

“No,” Charlie argued immediately. “It's not. You're not. It makes perfect sense, Nick.”

Nick gave a wobbly laugh. “D'you think you can explain it to me then?”

Charlie thought he probably could if he tried, but he wasn't sure it was his place. For a while he just held Nick in silence, letting them both think it over. Periodically, he pressed a kiss to whatever part of Nick he could reach, or rubbed up and down his back, or scratched gently at his head. Anything to remind Nick he was there and he understood and he loved him. 

Eventually, Charlie got the nerve to ask, “Do you think you have, like, separation anxiety?”

Nick took a moment, Charlie hoped to consider this and not because he was upset. “Like what some kids have when they start school and stuff?”

“Yeah. But I don't think it's just kids,” Charlie added quickly. “There was this girl at the clinic with me. The main thing she struggled with was being apart from her parents at the start. It wasn't why she was there, but it was part of it. She told me she even had a few panic attacks about it. She lost one of her grandparents, when she was really young. Then she had this intense fear of her parents dying every time they were away from her. It never completely left her. She just got better at managing it.”

Nick was quiet for so long Charlie thought he'd gone too far and Nick wasn't going to respond anymore. When he did, it was a small, quiet, “Oh.”

Charlie steeled himself. “So it makes sense. If…your dad leaving and things changing so much between you. If that was something that really affected you, it makes sense you'd worry about other people you love leaving.”

“It isn't…you don't think that's silly, or childish?”

Charlie shook his head adamantly, despite the fact Nick was still pressed against him and wouldn't see the gesture. Charlie knew he would feel it, but he still said, “No, Nick. It's not silly at all. And like you said, everyone worries about the people they love. People only think this is childish because children haven't learned how to hide it, so it's more obvious in them.”

Nick absorbed this. Charlie hated not being able to see his face, but he didn't want to push things. He wanted to provide Nick with comfort in the form Nick was comfortable with. It helped that he could hear and feel Nick's breaths, and could tell that they'd steadied. It wasn't a simple thing to take in, but it had seemed to almost settle Nick, more than panic him. 

“Honestly,” Nick murmured, “I think me having some kind of anxiety does make sense. And this…fits.”

Charlie squeezed Nick tight and ignored the ache that caused in him. “You don't have to figure it out or understand it right now. I could be completely wrong. But whatever it is, we can look into it together. If you want?”

Nick smushed his face to Charlie's neck. “I really love you.”

Charlie smiled. “I really love you too.”

Nick was the one to pull back this time. His eyes were a little red, and there was a dry tear-track down one cheek, but the mist over his expression had cleared. If not happy, he seemed more at ease now. “I think it would help,” he said. “To look into something. Maybe if I understand better it won't…I can stop it from bothering me so much.”

Charlie tried to tamp down his pride, but he was sure it shone through. “I think so.” He nudged Nick's nose with his own, uncaring it was cold and damp. “Whatever you need, I'll be here.”

Nick looked at him for a long moment, less in doubt, Charlie thought, and more just to look. To remind himself this was real and true, at least for now. Slowly, he smiled. 

“Yeah,” Nick said. “I know.”

[ineadhyn]

Mousephael

Wrote this at work the other day. Inspired by a discord conversation. Sfw, nothing bad happens, just Mousephael. (Unedited)

Raphael was used to having at least three forms, one more magnificent than the other. He could either charm people as a human, seduce them as a devil or frighten them as ascended fiend, but this?

He looked down on his little paws with four toes and just the tiniest of claws. Before he knew it he brushed them over his head and snout, cleaning his whiskers thoroughly. At least he had kept his horns. He couldn't see them, but he could feel that they were still there - just proportional to his new mouse body. Raphael also cleaned his tail - at least he was used to having one - and sniffed.

Where even was he? His nose said Baldur's Gate but he could barely see more than the cobblestones in front of his eyes, each one larger than him.

He had never been this small before and it offended him. Raphael scrunched his nose.

Now, he might look like a mouse but somewhere in this little round body was still a thousand year old devil. He was good at logic - if his nose didn't constantly try and distract him by picking up the scents of bread and … cheese.

No, focus, Raphael. Where do you find help - because even he had to agree that he desperately needed it.

Tav.

Tav must still be in Baldur’s Gate. There was a bakery and just a street further must be the Elfsong tavern.

Only a street was a long way for a tiny mouse. Raphael hopped along, trying to stay in the cobblestones at first, but scurrying into the shadows after a wheel had missed his tail for just a whisker.

Raphael squeaked at the offender, but retreated anyway. Keeping closer to the buildings it was then.

His nose smelled danger and the fur on his neck stood up - but the old rat he encountered luckily didn't care about him.

It shouldn't be allowed for these beasts to be seven times bigger than himself.

Raphael managed to squeeze through the door right after a lady with dirty shoes - her feet smelled rather delicious though. When she shrieked Raphael was already in the taproom.

Oh, there were so many crumbs… Surely it wouldn't hurt to indulge? His tiny stomach rumbled.

Raphael picked up a piece of corn with both hands and sunk his incisors into it. It tasted acceptable. He threw it away in favour of a crumb of cheese.

Now this was delectable. Suitable for his refined palate. He happily nimbled on the cheese when suddenly his ears twitched. The crumb fell out of his hands.

Before he even saw the monster chasing after him he ran, faster and faster, jumping up the stairs, falling, rolling over and getting up again.

There, a hole!

Raphael squished himself through, almost getting stuck with his horns and the evil cat stayed outside.

His little heart thrummed and instinctively he cleaned himself again.

“Aren't you a cutie? Where do you come from?”

Tav’s voice, bless the hells.

Giant boots came closer and Raphael twitched back in fear of getting crushed.

“Wait… You're not a normal mousie. You got horns.”

Against his instincts Raphael stepped closer and sniffed. Definitely Tav.

The giant hand was intimidating but he didn't get much time to think about it before Tav just *picked him up*!

He squeaked, offended.

Tav giggled and reached out to pet his head. Reluctantly Raphael allowed it. It actually felt rather nice.

“Oh, I know these horns! …Raphael?”

Raphael squeaked. And then he squeaked again in fury when the big hand just stuffed him in a pocket.

He squirmed for a while before he settled. At least he was safe from predators up here.

“Are you hungry? Do you want some peanut butter?”

Raphael couldn't help that his ears perked up at the word and even more at the delicious smell that filled the air.

Soon after, Raphael happily nibbled peanut butter off a finger.

The big animal that held him made noises. Raphael didn't understand, but he knew there was peanut butter and a cat downstairs.

And, after all, weren't those the only important things in the world?

[weirdlookingsnakewithlegs]

Earthspark Analysis

S1 Ep3 - Moo-ving In

- Bee is speeding, great start!

- Okay jumping the train was actually sick.

- Bee is so tired of this stuff already.

- THERE’S A CALF!!! She makes me miss my own babies back on the farm!

- Bee scaring the baby >:(

- Not Thrash imitating the transformation sound

- Okay yeah transformation is definitely instinctual and not base book.

- Bee’s eyebrows do look like that.

- Alright, Bee is definitely struggling with the reintegration. He wants to be back with the other autobots, badly in fact. It’s making him struggle with this mission because he wants to rush it so badly. Which makes sense, I would want to be back with my friends as well if I were gone for so long. However, I don’t think taking a note from Megatron’s book is going to do well here.

- “Big bumbling know it all” Lmao

- I would like to preface and say that is is clear Twitch is trying to take Bumblebee’s advice despite not exactly liking him yet.

- Bumblebee getting startled by a cow is very funny.

- Okay Elita has a much better view on how to lead! Knowing your team is important. The problem here however is the terrans might not know themselves well either.

- The kids being cute is actually adorable and again I would kill a man for these four.

- Bee has a valid reason to be mad about the walkie talkies I feel.

- Oh stars a family game night

- Bee is just STRUGGLING, I wonder if this is from lack of contact and communication

- Ah yes, discourse

- Oh, there’s the snap

- Yes, tell Bee off, I too get angry when people disrespect my cow (I love you Millie)

- Flying through the ceiling because you’re angry, valid I suppose, though I am concerned about the property damage.

- Not the dad still going

- I love that the terrans are child-like, the swap from being angry to being excited about something is certainly a child like thing to do. Distractions might not be good all the time but they can help you figure out feelings with being influenced about your emotions. Stressful event happens, offer a distraction to calm emotions, return to evaluate.

- Twitch struggling to change back, oh I love it

- Optimus you little glitch with that voicemail tone

- Okay I love Dot for the comment, “If you figure out how to get them to listen let me know how” not only is she sharing the fact she struggles with the same issue but she’s validating Bee as well, it’s something he most definitely needs right now.

- Awe, his little smile! Bee’s so cute

- If anything happens to these cows I will go feral

- Bee finally understanding that his teaching style may not be the best way of going about things does wonders for me.

- Maltobots!!

- Calling the cows doggies <3

- Bee can lift a hay roll. With ease. Can he fucking juggle cows? Because that hay roll definitely weighs about the same as one of those cows. Which is about 1200 pounds. I get it giant alien robot but still >^>

- Went from Fluffy Ears being stuck to Twitch being stuck, I hadn’t even considered the fact that pedes could get stuck like that.

- Is this train foreshadowing. Is that what this is. That’s such a baller move

- Corn

- Ah yes character development as you’re about to be crushed by a train

- Not the train pun

- Also love the way Bee is holding Fluffy Ears

- Spin hug!!! I love spin hugs

- Bee is family, I love that <3

- Family game night take two!

- Bro just slid Optimus, that’s wild

Characters:

Twitch: She’s definitely gaining character, that I’m happy about. Over all I see a very big need for development, she seems to doubt herself a lot though and that shows with her transformation troubles.

Thrash: I didn’t get much from him this episode in all honesty but it looks like the next episode is about him.

Bumblebee: In the beginning of the episode it’s quite obvious to me that Bee struggles with familiarity, he didn’t seem comfortable on Earth and he didn’t seem comfortable with the Maltos. The definitely changes though even in the beginning when he’s working on getting advice from the others. It’s subtle in the beginning but no change in immediate. By the end of the episode he definitely seems much more relaxed, at ease with his situation and willing to put in the effort now that he understands how to do things, and now that he sees the Maltos as something more than a job.

Footnotes:

- Wanna preface and say I’m sorry this took so long, before I started this I began some training and it took more effort than I thought along with the craziness of the holiday season.

- Now, I don’t have much to really say but it’s wonderful we get to see the terrans act like children, it’s wonderful that they think how kids do. It’s amazing they don’t have experience because they shouldn’t. I’m loving each minor detail in this, can’t wait to see the Decepticons and I especially can’t wait to see the villain development of Mandroid.

Earthspark Analysis

How this will work:

- Starting from this post there will be a series of reblogs.

- Each will begin with the episode number/title.

- Important characters will be given an analysis based on their behavior/decisions/choice of words.

- I may also focus on background characters at times should I see anything interesting.

- I will also focus on other things, for example, if there are fights scenes I will likely make comments.

What you should expect:

I am by no means an expert and this is solely for fun! If you don’t like/agree with what I think that’s okay! In the end we’re all just having fun and this is just for the silly!

Things to watch out for:

I can be oblivious at times! Tell me if I missed something you think is important and I’ll try to round back and take a gander!

🩵 Now let’s get this show on the road! 🩵

[isfjmel-phleg]

🙄

[medicinemane]

You know, looking at a diet soda can it occurs to me that it might not be so wretched to me if the cans weren't so unpleasant

Like we know that things like color play a role in how our brain perceives things, and I realized looking at the can that they're always this bland but at the same time nasty looking silver and it just... it looks foul and I think that compounds with the fact that I also just plain don't like diet soda

My point here isn't to say anyone else shouldn't like diet soda, just how I never realized how much of an impact the can has on me not liking it... there's just something offputting about it to me

[starred-system]

At this point I'd be relieved if something happened in my system. The dissociating is getting really, really irritating. How long will it be just the two of us... I miss being able to switch.

[sounds-like-moss]

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Kids need more options. More freedom. Regardless of if parents tracking is a factor. Yes tracking is a part of it and being able to mess up or make choices your parents aren't happy with is also a part...but like. Even without, offline is less and less an option. At least an appealing one or one that seems real and viable. I saw it happening and I'm sure it's fucking worse now. Organizing seems like a pipe dream or at least something hard when you're a minor, don't have access, and physically are not somewhere you can see enough options to realize they DO in fact exist. So they sit there at this weird ass combo of aware and so out of touch at the same time. Like the world is a stage and they don't see the stage left exit. It's observe and be observed, performing all the time in this scripted stilted way but like what else is there? It's there. But it might as well be set design or a character archetype. Put on. Never off. It makes living seem mundane at best and alien/impossible at worst. I worry for them. Cults try hard...but the Government tries harder.

I should know, in my personal experience they're one in the fucking same. And they're at their worst when you're isolated and blind to the options

here's my hot take about my generation and people younger than me (I'm 22 years old)

The reason current teenagers and people in their really early 20s are conservative on accident and have such shitty takes on the internet is because our generation was much more sheltered than previous generations and because we were raised to be ok with orwellian servailence and that is 100% the fault of our parents, Reagan Era kidnapping panics, and the rise of technology all coming together to prevent us from doing the sketchy shit that sends parents into panic mode but which is also completely fundemental to childhood development. If your parents had even a crumb of money to their name and even a shred of free time they started tracking your phone as soon as it was possible to. I did not experience this because my parents are actively trying to live like it's the 1990s and still have not gotten cell phones of their own, and did not let me have one until I was 18 years old and it was no longer their choice, but literally over half of my friends in middle and high school had their phones tracked by their parents at some point or other, and we would occasionally find this out, not because their parents told them, but when we were trying to do the aforementioned sketchy shit and their parent's car would pull up. And I would, like a reasonable person after finding this out, encourage my friends to just leave their phones at home, and their response would be "What if I get kidnapped" or "My parents are just trying to keep me safe"

This in my estimation has lead to a combination of kids being terminally online because they do have internet access and are better at deleting search history than their parents think they are, but don't have the freedom to go out and do shit without their parents' knowledge or consent, so they have the most privacy from the people who control their lives while they're on the internet, and kids not having the real world experiences they should have, not knowing how to connect with other people irl, not feeling comfortable leaving the house because of the horror story lies their parents told them to make them ok with the surveillance they were inflicting on their kids. Kids these days are growing up in the fucking panopticon when they should be out in the woods playing with knives or stealing cigarettes from their older sibling and going out to an empty parking lot to smoke them or whatever and that shit is sticking with them into adulthood. Things that were "tee hee we could get in trouble isn't this so fun and daring" in the 1990s and 2000s have become in the 2010s and 2020s things that are "If I do that without texting my parents some sort of lie to excuse where my location is my parent's car will pull up and I will get grounded for the next two weeks."

Like even when I was 19 I had a 16 year old friend who would volunteer their time at a food shelf and that's how we knew each other. We would talk about dungeons and dragons together, and the game store was 4 blocks from the food shelf. One day we left the food shelf earlier than they had told their parents they would and they got punished for that. We were literally just going to look at dungeons and dragons miniatures and dice, which was self evident if you could see where we started and how far we walked and where too. I have to assume that this isn't uncommon. It's wrong, but it's not uncommon.

[rotationalsymmetry]

I don’t know if this is what you are looking for exactly, but I enjoy writing for Postcards to Voters because they focus on non-presidential races. I am currently writing postcards against an anti-choice constitutional amendment proposition in Ohio.

I wish more people would do things like that, instead of making posts that guilt trip people for not being excited enough about voting for the Blue sexual harasser instead of the Red one.

Thank you for your highly sensible response.

I guess there's a thing where "just because someone takes 15 seconds to shoot their mouth off online about something that's annoying them doesn't mean they have the time/energy to do anything actually constructive, even more so for the people who took .5 seconds to hit reblog now on someone else's shooting their mouth of post" but I think it would be strictly better for people to spend that .5 second exerting a smidgen of self control and going "either it's actual GOTV or it's not, and if it's not I'm going to not reblog it."

And as the election is over a year away...I don't think "vote blue no matter who" is actually a Get Out The Vote action at this point in time. It's annoying enough when people do it in person but at least then there's occasionally some chance of having a reasonable discussion about it, but on social media between people who don't really know each other? Ha snowball's chance in hell.

(I haven't done Postcards to Voters the last couple years, but I did around 2019-2020 or so and they are fairly low barrier to entry as long as you have stamp money, super introvert friendly, you can be as creative or non-creative as you want to be, and as you can do it from your home on your own schedule pretty darn spoonie friendly as well. As well as covid-safe. And yes, there's a big focus on local/state campaigns, which warms my participatory democracy loving little heart.) (ughh sounds like an important campaign maybe I should pick this thing up again.)

[lanayrru]

i rly loved totk don’t get me wrong but ! imagine if the story rly set the stakes and actually committed to them, gave u the chance to actually connect with the sages - ancient ones too - only for it to be taken away to rly cement the gravity of the upheaval. pushing even further, if the roles were reversed and it was zelda on the current end trying to keep what remains of hyrule safe while link fulfills a prophecy as the first hero back in ancient times . . . just a balance of storylines and zelinks’ character arcs between botw and totk. a proper second chance for both of them that doesn’t necessarily prove their fates (and their abuser, in zelda’s case) right . . . yknow?

[zehecatl]

okay, but the reason that works for Final Fantasy, is that each new FF is, like, an entirely new thing. new world, new characters, new mechanics and rules. like doing it for something that's connected is not going to work as flawlessly

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.