#is a pattern that i hate most. i get fight or flight just thinking about it

[fred-the-dinosaur]

Clarification on the joke so everyone can have a better time

Joke constitutes:

10% : 'oh shit this post is about me too, joke to avoid crying.' (Sorry for what you're dealing with @megpie71 i am also long past patience with people trivialising. I did not intend it as such)

30% : Sideways diss at the Bake off Technical for becoming an absolute horror show that has lost all the gentle intentions of 'amateur bakers show off' and has instead devolved into psychological warfare in the name of entertainment as long as you are 'entertained' by people failing tasks they are set up to fail and then crying.

(If I wanted allistics to understand a little of how hard it can be, I genuinely suspect making them do the Technical Round would actually function quite well as a simulator. I find this joke funny mainly because it at first sounds like a specious comparison, but on the second layer is actually highly accurate.)

60% : a set up for a visual gag involving Paul Hollywood

If you want some idea of how much autistic people struggle to understand allistic people when they don’t say exactly what they mean, take a cooking recipe and replace all units of measure with “enough but not too much”. For example:

enough but not too much white sugar

enough but not too much butter

enough but not too many eggs

enough but not too much vanilla extract

enough but not too much flour

enough but not too much baking powder

enough but not too much milk

preheat oven to hot enough but not too hot

bake for long enough but not too long

Even someone who’s experienced with cooking would probably struggle to follow that recipe. Now imagine if they had no experience cooking and had no idea what these ingredients are.

[lucystark12]

mike wheeler and jaime lannister are the same character and that also means byler is real 🥳

my last post about game of thrones versus stranger things where i talked about writing and what went wrong with dan and david did pretty well so i figured id elaborate just a bit on my quick side note i had in there about mike reminding me of jaime because it’s something i literally cannot shake. they are so similar it causes me extreme amounts of stress. and im on a two hour flight so i have time to explain it all to you 🥳🤗

to begin, my favorite stranger things characters are mike and nancy and my favorite game of thrones characters are sansa and jaime. if you already see a pattern, then you’re on the right track, because yes, i am a believer in the misunderstood character who is widely hated amongst fans but is arguably the best written one in the given source material. sansa and nancy are both fundamentally similar characters- they both start out as naive girls who are very singularly focused on their reputation and how they’re perceived by the people around them. this is evident in nancy’s relationship with steve and with basically every single action sansa takes in season one of game of thrones. through being forced into a dangerous environment however, both characters learn to shed the ideas they had about what it means in their given world to be “successful” and “important.” i tend to love characters like that because their so realistic. even if we aren’t all being abused by kings or shooting demegorgans, most of us can relate to wishing we were something we weren’t and having to learn the hard way that it’s just better to be yourself

i just wanted to get the nancy sansa pipeline out of the way first before i talk about mike and jaime, because where nancy and sansa are similar, jaime and mike are practically twins.

let’s look at both characters at the beginning of their respective story-

- mike is 12 years old and knows close to nothing except for the fact that he wants to be able to protect the people he cares about. throughout the first season, we see mike’s guilt for not being able to find will metaphorically eat him alive, coming to a head at the cliff scene where when his other best friend is in threat of being harmed, he decides that he would rather die than not be able to save someone he cares about again.

- jaime is mike on a twenty year delay, but his story begins about where mike is at in ~season 3. however, when jaime was about 15, he was appointed to the kings guard, a position he partly sought out to be close to cersei (his affair partner (and sister but that’s a conversation for another day)) (also, mike acts the way he does when will goes missing partly because he’s lost somebody he subconsciously loves too and if you don’t think mike has been subconsciously in love with him this whole time ily but womp womp ur wrong) but also partly sought out because of his notions of what it meant to be a knight- it means that you’re fighting for the people and essentially saving as many as you possibly can. jaime is a character who cares very much about the people around him, similarly to mike. jaime’s situation comes to a similar head when he kills the king to prevent him from essentially bombing the capital city and killing half a million innocent people, which in doing so he puts his own life and reputation at risk

these characters are both so similar because they both value life. they are willing to sacrifice themselves and their reputation in the interest of other people. this is who they both are at the core of their person. however, at some point throughout their arc they both go back on their previous behaviors. they don’t so much regret the way they behaved, but the pressures about their roles that have been put on them by society lead them both to believe that their behavior is wrong in some way.

with mike, i’m talking about how affectionate (?) he was with will in season two. i’m naming what happened after the whole hospital “best thing i’ve ever done” sequence and before season three as mike going through the same thing jaime does in the period between when he kills the king and when the show starts. i think in both of these time frames, the two of them start to have this realization based on the people around them that what they did was wrong and won’t be widely accepted. jaime’s king slaying was treasonous and mike realizes that his love confession coded monologue to will in the hospital wasn’t necessarily normal behavior. this is also the exact time period in which the raegan bush election is happening. they literally probably voted during season 2. id also like to point out that both of them come from very rigid and strict families. and if you’re denying me this for mike, they have a raegan bush sign in their yard.

now we pick up in season 1 for jaime and season 3 for mike. this is where im going to bring up the singular most important part of both of their respective arcs- the love triangle. season 1/3 are the most important times for both melvin and jercei (?). melvin is at peak affection, and basically mike’s entire story for a good portion of this season revolves around her. this is basically the peak of jercei because it’s right before they get separated and their whole dynamic changes. but uh oh! there’s trouble in paradise for both! suddenly mike and el are broken up and jaime and cersei are separated by the war of the five kings. this next part bleeds into season 2/3 for jaime and season 4 for mike, when mike and el are quite literally separated.

so, both of them are separated from side one of their love triangle, who both are using as a gateway to solve what they think is their biggest flaw- jaime his narcissism and mike his sexuality. then, and this is one of my favorite little parallels, they are both literally escorted home by the other side of the triangle, where “home” (hawkins for mike, kings landing for jaime) serves to say the truth about who they are as people that they weren’t quite ready to face before they set off on their respective physical journeys. (mikes trip to california, jaimes push north)

obviously in stranger things mike and will literally go back to hawkins together. in game of thrones, jaime gets captured by the opposing army and is escorted back to the capital by a knight for the opposing army, brienne, under the condition that he will safely return the king’s sisters to him. throughout both of their returns home, they both are forced to come to terms with their feelings just a little bit. jaime admits the truth of his kingslay to brienne, and mike is given the painting. i don’t think mike has put ANY of the dots together on the painting yet, but once he does, this will serve as a HUGE influence on his character development and relationship with will (another thing i could talk about for hours). then they both get home, and jaime’s view starts to shift just a little bit… he starts thinking “hey wait… maybe brienne is onto something. maybe i don’t have to be so terrible all the time and conform to what society wants me to be.” now obviously we don’t know if mike is thinking this way yet, but my guess is that he probably will start having a similar thing next season.

the reason both brienne and will are so important to their character arcs are because in the context of the love triangle or decision their romantic interest is making, they serve to symbolize non conformity and embracing the truth about who you are and what you stand for. brienne isn’t conventionally attractive like cersei and actively goes against what was expected of women at the time. being with will would make him a part of a gay relationship, which was very nonconformist at the time. where cersei and eleven serve in the relationship to show pretending, insecurity, and lies since they are literally the exact opposite of brienne and will. and guess who doesn’t lie? FRIENDS.

so, what i’m saying is that will is essential to ending mike’s character arc just like brienne was to jaime, and that if stranger things fumbles the bag and doesn’t make it happen like game of thrones did, then mike will live in infamy as an unfinished character who had a stupid ending just like jaime did.

also, i am a “jaime should have killed cersei and then died in the fire with her” truther and similarly believe that mike should sacrifice himself in the last summer to come full circle to the sacrificial person he used to be. i also don’t believe in happy endings because they’re boring ❤️

this is why im SO FUCKING NERVOUS about mike. i’m literally having ptsd god help me! 🤗🤗 pls matt and ross learn from the mistakes of your elders and break the game of thrones curse!! as daenerys targaryen would say- BREAK THE WHEEL!!

[the-owl-tree]

I’m gonna try and make my point again but on anon bc worried of harassment if Certain People don’t agree.

the christofascist themes in warriors I’ve only been able to notice because they align pretty well with patterns I’ve noticed in my own life. clan life (and starclan) HAS to be the only way for cats. it has to be accepted willingly, or forced upon the “lesser” groups (see, atheist or simply non christian) or they will be destroyed in some way. chased off their own land, killed, assimilated, etc. the clan cats are colonists just like eropean christians. see, squirrelflight’s hope. why does no one challenge the clan’s ideas that they are entitled to land, any land, that would benefit them? even if other cats live there? because they aren’t christia- I mean clan cats so they’re lesser and their lives are expendable. see again, squirrel flight’s hope.

I know the conflict of that book that everyone remembers (other than the abuse apologists and kids who don’t understand) is bramblestar abusing squirrelflight for 464 pages (and then getting her sister killed but he’s a man so it’s okay), but the glaring problem is the author’s bias on people different from them. there was absolutely no reason the only cat loudly protesting the slaughter of expecting mothers and children was the protagonist. and she was treated as though she were in the wrong, and punished over and over again in this book alone. remember they hate squirrelstar and her ideals. heinous, genuinely. and there wasn’t even a good resolution to that! moonlight died! the sisters had to leave! and then helped them in the next arc! what the fuck! anyway

one will note how christians are known to refer to non christians as “wicked” “evil” “dark” “lost” or other terms to make it pretty clear they think less of you for not sharing their faith. the clans the same. even through uncontrollable circumstances such as birth you are shamed in this society and downright humiliated on a good day, attempted murder on a bad one (stormpaw, featherpaw and stonefur)

and the victim mentality the clans have along with the paranoia that they are constantly at risk of being wiped out despite there being like 30 cats in their fucking colonies at all times. there is always a war on christianity. there is always a fight the clans have to win to survive. they always have to kill someone else, lately someone minding their business, to survive. they have to impose themselves on other cultures because they are the True way of life and they never have to be confronted with the idea that they are just as flawed if not more than their counterparts. and if they are, conveniently their opposition is killed off or written to submit later on proving them right. I will not include bloodclan and the kin in this because they were legitimate threats, even if in a way they were also caused by clan culture.

the most glaringly obvious example of why I believe warriors and christofascism overlap outside of the need to force themselves on everyone, is the inability to question anything without severe punishment. you cannot question god without threat of eternal damnation or being ostracized from peers and even attacked. you cannot question starclan without threat of eternal damnation and the same. even when there is no logical solution but to admit that they’re wrong and cruel and just as petty and dangerous as the dark forest, in the end the lesson is that you should listen to starclan, never doubt, never question, or you will be punished. and there is no hope for redemption even if you offer yourself to be used.

that is the issue I have. and it’s a very obvious one that I’m sure I’m not the only one who says something about it, but depending on where you live, I live in southern america, it’s not hard to see parallels. do I think it will ever escalate to the severity of reality? no. probably not ever. but the fact that I can see it is what worries me.

again not very well written, and I even got anxious towards the end so my apologies if it’s hard to follow or too sloppy! just wanted to share my thoughts even if people don’t agree.

This is really interesting, thanks for sharing!! I thought it was pretty illuminating, as I'm someone who's never heard of the term Christofascism. I don't know enough about Christian discourses or the subject at hand to commentate too much unfortunately, but I really appreciate your taking the time to write this out for me. If you're interested in expanding this further, I'd actually recommend looking into some texts on decolonization, as a lot of what you wrote hit on points similar to that (in my opinion of course).

I'm not really the best person to asks for texts like that so I'm gonna link you to communistkenobi's reading recommendations on the subject.

edit: missed it so thank you to cicadaclan for pointing this out but i'd argue against the separation of bloodclan and the kin in this. bloodclan are literally written to be godless outsiders who hate families. the kin are the continuation of the evil outsider intent on destroying the clans. the kin, whether or not they were a threat, still fall into the evil outsider trope.

[snwusberry]

pairing: yeonjun x reader x wooyoung

genre: angst, fluff (if you squint real hard)

warning(s): language, food/eating, alcohol consumption, intoxication, a lot of crying, toxicity (yeonjun is a lil toxic ngl), trust issues, cheating mentioned but no one actually did, a lot of tears. love square my dudes. pov changes (sorry). there are many errors. i will try and fix them as soon as possible.

wc: 7k

notes: this is by far my longest fanfic (i had to bust out my laptop for this one) and i'm not gonna lie, for someone with a short attention span, this was quite difficult to write but i wanted to step out of my comfort zone so here it is. i hope you all enjoy this one

playlist:

i don't - sabrina claudio

cry for love - baekhyun

movies - conan gray

fight or flight - conan gray

bleeding love - leona lewis

reader pov

"this is the third time in a row now yeonjun. how many times is she gonna rock up at your apartment drunk?" i ask him, looking at the sleeping girl on the sofa. she’s a little too at peace for someone whos ruining my night right now.

"she comes here because she's most familiar with me. who else is supposed to help her?" yeonjun defends and i roll my eyes, not having any of it. this not the first time this is happening.

"her other friends. it's funny how she's got other friends, isn't it?" i sarcastically remark but he just returns a stern look.

"quiet down, you're gonna wake her up." i raise my eyebrows at the sheer audacity.

"have her sleep somewhere else then. i don’t know, call someone to pick her up and look after her. you're not doing none of that tonight." i tell him.

it's tiring how much this happens. she always does this. she comes up with something whenever she knows yeonjun and i will be together that day, like right now. she appeared drunk on yeonjun's doorstep on the day we decided to spend time together.

"please be serious right now."

"i am being serious. she's not spending the night here." i fight back, trying to stand my ground but i'm afraid i'm fighting a losing battle.

"this is my apartment y/n, not yours. i think that i should be the one to make that decision, no? stop bitching about it." he responds coldly with an unreadable expression on his face. there's a look in his eyes i've never seen before.

"okay then i'll leave."

his eyes soften upon hearing my tone of voice indicating that i am, in fact, upset.

"i didn't mean that." he tries to hold my hand to stop me from leaving but i pull away, getting my things to leave.

"then what the fuck did you mean?" i ask him turning to face him but he just stares, not saying anything. “you said what you said. call me when you drop this act of yours."

once the cool air outside the giant apartment building hits me, i let out a sigh, frustrated by all this. he really said that to me with a straight face and thinks he can just take it back all willy nilly? unbelievable.

i send a text to the person who's been helping me through this somewhat confusing moment in my relationship.

me:

are you busy?

i get a text back fairly quickly, i don't even need to read it to know he's not busy and judging by his patterns, he wouldn't have responded so quickly had he been occupied.

woo:

no

i make my way down the familiar road to one of my best friends' apartments. i've been here many times before but now i feel bad for even thinking about going there because i feel like as of late, i've just been there to complain.

"oh y/n. come in." he ushers me inside his warm apartment.

i make my way in and he walks me to the kitchen where i sit by the small island.

"let me guess, the name starts with m?" he asks, preparing some tea for both of us. i nod but the tears start to fall. i fucking hate when my anger turns to tears because it makes me feel weak. "that's not all, is it?" i shake my head and he walks around the island to pull me into a hug before he shoos me to the living room and he returns shortly after with a cup of tea, handing it to me before sitting next to me listening to everything i'm saying while i rant about what happened with yeonjun.

"that's messed up like how many times is she gonna show up drunk at his door?" wooyoung asks, outraged at the audacity of this girl.

"that's literally what i said to him. i told him she couldn't have gone to anyone else and you know what he said? he said 'she's most familiar with me. who else with her?' can you believe this guy?" i rhetorically ask, taking a sip from the cup. "and then i said to him that she's not spending the night and i kid you not, something in him just switched. he was like 'that's not your decision to make' but like, the way he said it... it was so unlike him. it's like i was talking to a whole different man."

"if this continues its gonna be a problem." wooyoung warns me cautiously.

"i know. i don't like where this is going."

i wake up, sitting up to look around, realizing i crashed at wooyoung's place. everything from last night coming back to me. i remember how yeonjun acted, that i cried and now i'm here.

"ahhh." i groan throwing myself back on the bed. how long is this going to go on for?

"rise and shine." wooyoung calls out a little too chipper. he enters the room and i glare at him. "what's with that face? come on i made you breakfast."

"you didn't have to."

"you say that all the time and yet here we are. come on grumpy." he says, pulling me out of bed.

"i'm not grumpy." i mumble with a pout.

"say again."

"nothing."

"thought so."

he makes me sit down at the kitchen table where the table is set with my favourite breakfast. i thank him, sitting down.

"don't be shy."

i smile at him, immediately digging in.

"slow down. the food isn’t running away." he warns and i apologize briefly.

my phone starts ringing and i check to see who it is but my smile falters and wooyoung looks at me worried.

"who is it?"

"yeonjun."

his face falls at my answer, as if a happy moment was ruined.

"answer."

i nod, answering his call but i take a moment before saying anything.

"babe?"

"hello."

"baby, please come over, or rather, i'm coming over-" his voice sounds hasty, his breathing choppy, as if he ran a marathon.

i look at wooyoung for a second with hesitance and he's just minding his own business but the look on his face shows he's upset.

"don't bother." i tell him bluntly. i'm still not over last night so let me be petty today.

"why? is everything alright?"

"i'm not home." wooyoung looks up and shakes his head making me sigh. "look, i'll be right there. just make sure your friend is not there once i arrive."

"come on y/n not this again."

"i'm serious yeonjun." i hang up before throwing my phone on the table. letting out a sigh in frustration because i don't want to go to him right now. he could at least let me enjoy my morning.

"go on." is all wooyoung says before standing up and clearing up the dishes to wash them. his mood has clearly drastically different now.

"wooyoung-"

"go talk to him. you can't leave these things unresolved like this. go talk to him and sort this mess out."

"but wooyoung."

"no, not another word. besides you can always come back once you're done." he suggests so i just agree.

"okay."

i walk out, calling an uber to yeonjun's apartment building, deciding not to walk there.

i make my way to the elevator where i see mara walking out. i try to avoid her, not wanting to even talk to her because it will just ruin my mood completely.

"oh? look who it is."

dammit.

i put on my fakest smile, turning to face her. "hi mara."

"going to yeonjun's?" she asks and i fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"no i'm here to see soobin. haven't seen him in a while." i respond sarcastically.

"soobin is in the states."

wow i had no idea.

"great then who else could i possibly be here for?" i ask her in the most real yet fake questioning tone.

"why don't you just give up already? no matter how hard you try, yeonjun will always pick me over you anyway." she smugly remarks and i roll my eyes.

"is that why you he asked you to leave for me to come see him at my request, might i add. i wouldn’t be proud to be a choice sweetie." the elevator door opens once again and i get in, waving at her as the doors close.

something inside me is restless though because deep down i have a feeling that she might be right. he's chosen her over me multiple times so i'm afraid she's right.

once i reach his floor, i walk to his door and knock, hearing shuffling before the door opens.

"you didn't have to knock you know. i'd know it's you." he says blankly and i roll my eyes.

"yeah well then i guess we both acting different."

"babe- wait, those are last nights clothes." he looks at me suspiciously and i raise my eyebrows.

"i'm aware."

"then where were you so early in the morning? you said you didn't go home last night?" he questions.

"why do you care?"

"because you're my girlfriend, of course i care, y/n be serious please." i scoff at his words. at this point, i feel like he thinks i’m a joke because he always says that to me.

"i am being serious. you haven't been treating me like i'm your girlfriend so i don't see what's wrong with my question."

"what are you even saying? and where did you go last night then?"

"oh now you're questioning me? you called me over to talk so tell me what you needed to so i can go."

his eyebrows furrow as he looks at me confused.

"i wanted to spend time with you since our date last night was ruined." he says softly.

"and who ruined it?"

"don't start. just please tell me where you wer-"

"wooyoung's place."

his face drops to an expressionless one and he just looks at me.

"why the long face now all of a sudden? what's wrong?"

"you get mad at me for having mara over but it’s okay for you to spend the night at wooyoung's place? how is that fair? besides, i only went there because of you."

"because of me?" he questions and i nod. "why? tell me."

"because he's the one who was able to give me comfort after the way you spoke to me. you chose to let mara crash our date for the nth time." he remains silent. "what now? much like you were there for mara, wooyoung did the same for me."

"was it to spite me?” he asks me and i scoff.

“not everything is about you jun.”

“i don't want you going near him anymore. if you have a problem you come to me." i scoff, rolling my eyes at what he just said what does he think this is?

he has to be joking. he is joking right?

"and if you are the problem?"

he looks at me confused with his head tilted trying to figure out what i meant.

"what do you even mean?"

"i mean that you, choi yeonjun, are the problem in this scenario." i tell him and try to walk out but he grabs my wrist.

"let go."

"not until we resolve this."

i sigh to myself knowing he's right. we need to actually talk about this or it will just get out of control.

"come sit down." he gently speaks walking with me to the living room.

"y/n please tell me what's wrong." he asks once we've sat down. we're facing each other while he holds both of my hands in his, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs.

"mara and how you are around her."

he let's one of my hands go to run his hand through his hair, an irritated expression making its way on his face.

"you always act different when she's around."

"why are you always bringing her into this?"

"she's getting in the middle of us." i tell him and he rolls his eyes.

"baby she's my best friend, that's all."

"and she likes you."

"don't talk shit."

he thinks i'm talking nonsense? it's clear as day that she has feelings for him and it frustrating that he can't see it but him talking to me like this? absolutely not.

"i'm telling the truth. tell me, how come she always has an emergency whenever we're together?"

"i don't know. look it's not right to blame someone else for this. do you not trust me?"

"of course i do! if i didn't trust you, i wouldn't have left the two of you alone together and i would’ve questioned you the way you just did when i walked in. i just want you to see what's really going on here."

"y/n." he reaches for my hand again to hold it. "whether she likes me or not, that shouldn't matter anyway. i love you and only you and that won't change."

"then why do you always choose to be with her instead?" i ask him and he tenses.

"what?"

"you always choose her. whenever it comes down to it, it's always gonna be her. she even said it herself in the lobby and i told her off but i knew deep down that she’s actually telling the truth."

"y/n."

"like last night, for example. she showed up and you stopped our plans to go help her even though there are many other people she could've ran to, then when i walked out, you did nothing."

"this is ridiculous."

"you are being ridiculous, yeonjun. you don't wanna see what's right in front of you."

"are you jealous of her or something? babe i tell you time and time again that she's just a friend!" he raised his voice at me and i pull my hands away from him.

"oh i'm jealous... that's what it is, right? i'm jealous because my boyfriend is making time for someone else. i’m jealous because my boyfriend let's me leave to spend the night with another girl. is that what you're saying?" i question, standing up, ready to leave.

"stop talking, you're making it seem like something it's not. besides you have no right getting upset since you spend all your time with wooyoung anyway."

"BECAUSE HE AT LEAST HAS TIME FOR ME! it's selfish, yes but he has time for me when you are too busy giving all of yours to someone else!"

"are you that hungry for attention that you're too busy looking for it elsewhere?"

"fuck you yeonjun." with that i walk out and go straight back to wooyoung's apartment.

there is a movie playing but it's just background noise at this point because my thoughts are running wild.

i found myself staying at wooyoung's apartment for the past 3 days since my argument with yeonjun.

he let me stay here and he's been nothing but accommodating and i feel like i'm taking advantage of his kindness which is the last thing i want to do.

"wooyoung."

"hmm?"

"thank you." is all i say and he sits up from his seat.

"for what?" he asks, not knowing where all of this is coming from.

"thank you." i repeat, feeling a burning sensation in my eyes.

"y/n." i look down and he moves to the loveseat i'm sitting on. he sees the tears forming on my eyes and immediately hugs me. "what did he say to you?"

i can't answer, the words are stuck in my throat and i couldn't answer him.

"it's okay. it'll be okay."

"i don't think it will." he stops patting my back for a second before continuing.

"don't be like this y/n. he’ll open his eyes eventually."

"i'm afraid it will be too late by then." i say sadly, more to myself than anything but i said it too loud because wooyoung heard.

he pulls away to take a brief look at me.

"what do you mean by that?"

"i'm reaching my limit here."

"don't make any hasty decisions."

"i'm not wooyoung. i love him, i really do, but if loving him is only going to get me feeling like this then it's really not worth it."

"y/n-"

"it's tiring." i tell him letting more tears fall at the thought of possibly ending my relationship with yeonjun.

"whatever you choose to do, i'll be right by your side." he softly tells me with eyes filled with sorrow as he watches me cry. "and if he doesn't appreciate you someone else definitely will. you're a sweet girl who deserves only the best and it kills me to see that that's not what you're getting."

he makes me look in his eyes and mouths something that i couldn't quite catch what he said. he wipes away my tears with this tumbs, all while keeping eye contact with me.

"someone will treat you better y/n." he whispers, letting out a sigh before looking away. "come on, let's do something that'll get your mind off him." he suggests. i don't know what he means by that.

"sure."

"alright, follow me." he takes my hand and takes me to his room, further confusing me.

"wooyoung?"

"shhh." he rummages through his closet and get a long sleeve shirt, handing it to me. "wear this."

"what's this for?" i ask, looking at him.

"just wear it. there's a method behind my madness."

i just shrug and put it on over my tank top and we walk out.

"a rage room?"

"why not?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders before we both walk in and book a session.

the lady explains the rules to us and before i know it, i'm breaking everything around me with out a care in the world. i'm imagining mara’s face before hitting something which really helps get the aggression out.

"FUCK! YOU! CHOI! YEONJUN!" i scream while breaking the things around me. "AND FUCK THAT MARA BITCH TOO!"

wooyoung just looks at me with a wide smile which is still visible through the protective gear.

once our session is over he takes us both to go eat some street food and i feel calm after all that.

"you know, i needed that." i breath out in content.

"yeah?"

"yeah. is it concerning to feel better after imagining someone's face over an object before hitting it to oblivion?" he laughs making me smile a bit, not thinking what i said was gonna be funny but go figure.

"it's not hard to imagine someone's face over something you're gonna throw at a wall."

"who's face were you imagining?" i ask him, turning to face him on the bench.

"the one who made you cry." i stop eating briefly at what he said.

"not too much bow, he's still your best friend."

"that doesn't excuse his shitty behavior." he sing-songs before taking a bite from his food.

"still." i try to grap a fry from his box while he’s not looking but he staws my hand away before i can even get far.

"hey."

"you have your own."

"had my own." i frown showing him the empty box.

"ask next time. here." he says giving me some and i smile, thanking him.

"the weather is so nice today."

"not with that fucking vanilla talk."

"last time i try to create conversation." we laugh together, looking at the sun setting.

i feel a lot better now after going to the rage room and taking out all of my frustration.

"ready to go home?" he asks once we're done.

"can we go to your place?"

"and what will your boyfriend think of that?" he asks teasingly.

"he won't like it but i spent the last two nights at yours so what's another night?"

"i don't want him to freak out on us for that. come i'll take you home."

"please wooyoung. i don't wanna be alone tonight."

"then call yeonjun. i think you both need to sit and talk with a clear mind.”

"we tried that already, remember?"

"try again." he urges and i sigh, taking my phone and dialing his number. it rings but he doesn't pick up.

"voicemail, see he’s still mad. let's go."

“y/n” he warns and i sigh, giving in, deciding not to make this an even bigger deal.

once i get home and wooyoung has left i lay in bed, listening to the music playing on the speaker.

yeonjun and i have been together for 3 years now and we've never gone through something like this nor have i ever considered the possibility of breaking up with him so how did we get this far?

i pick up my phone to text him. i just wanna see something.

me:

yeonjun please come over quick!!

please.

something happened!!

i put my phone down to see if he will even respond.

"in my head we never grow apart. in my head you never break my heart. but we know that's not what we're doing. 'cause baby this not like the movies." i sing along softly letting a tear fall hearing no notification go off on my phone. this is exactly why i didn't wanna be alone tonight.

wooyoung's pov

i sit with san in his apartment just relaxing, catching up, all that fun stuff. it's been quite a while since we actually got to just hang out and talk but right now i just wish more than anything that he'd shut up or change the topic because he is driving me insane.

"i say be selfish." he finally says with a shrug to finish off his little rant.

"what do you mean by that?" i ask him, narrowing my eyes at his final statement.

"look, yeonjun is being a complete dick right now and who does she run to afterwards?"

"me?"

"bingo." he smiles, taking a sip from his can of beer.

"i'm not picking up what you're putting down."

"she goes to you for comfort and you treat her the way her boyfriend is supposed to. be selfish and let them break up. i mean, why are you even trying to help save a dying relationship?"

"because i respect both of them and their relationship. besides, that's just taking advantage of her vulnerability you ass."

sometimes he doesn't think past the present.

"and its not like she'd ever look at me that way. no matter what the state of her relationship with yeonjun is, she will still love him regardless." i tell him sadly. she's deeply in love with him and it hurts me so much because it's not certain if he shares the same sentiment anymore and i'm just here waiting to give her the love she deserves.

my phone rings and i pick up without checking who's calling.

"hello."

"jung wooyoung."

speak of the devil.

"y/n."

"wooyoung are you home?"

her words are slurred and my worry spikes. she's drunk in broad daylight. it's never a good sign.

"JUNG WOOYOUNG!"

i hear her starting to cry judging by the feint sniffing on the ither side.

"are you also tired of me now too?"

"where are you?"

"don't worry if you're busy right now. i don't wanna bother you." she hiccups, before yawning loudly.

"you're not. please tell me where you are."

"the streets." she laughs hysterically before catching her breath. "i'm outside yeonjun's apartment building."

her voice wavers when she says that and my heart sinks. what did that asshole do to her this time?

"i'm coming there okay. don't go anywhere."

i hang up, ready to get my keys.

"where are you running off to?" san questions with a raised eyebrow.

"to pick y/n up. she's not doing too good."

"let me come with."

"okay let's go."

once we get to the complex i see y/n sitting on the ground looking out of it.

"holy shit." i hear san whisper as we run to her and get her off the floor.

"wooyoung?" she smiles widely it doesn’t reach her eyes. she looks a mess with swollen eyes and tears still running down her cheeks. i feel terrible.

"if she can show up drunk at his door then why can't i? why am i not allowed to go to him all vulnerable like she does? i'm his girlfriend, not her!" she starts shouting out of nowhere which draws attention from a couple of people around us.

this isn't fair anymore. if he's gonna keep pushing her around like this he might as well just end this relationship instead of continuously making her feel like absolute shit.

"why doesn't he love me anymore wooyoung? why? why don't you love me anymore yeonjun?! what did i do?" she starts yelling, properly sobbing now, hitting my chest while she speaks.

"get lost." san says, probably talking to someone who is probably staring. i need to get her away from these people looking at her weirdly.

i take her to the car, getting in the back with her so she can sit comfortably.

"what did he do?" i ask her once she’s seated comfortably.

"he kicked me out because that bitch was there. she probably called him crying or some shit but i'm crying too." she points to herself, choking on her tears. "YEONJUN SEE I'M CRYING TOO!" she shouts to no one. i close my eyes, letting tears of my own fall. i haven’t seen her like this before. 'aww, look, you woke up poor mara who’s sad and going through things, and she’s sad and not doing too well.' it's always about poor sad mara! you know, he called me an attention seeker the other day? an attention seeker for wanting the bare minimum from my boyfriend. he's with that girl so much, he might as well be her boyfriend and not mine right?" she humorlessly laughs. "and then he had the audacity to tell me i can't be around you anymore. who does he think he is?”

did he seriously tell her she can’t be around me anymore? but then he continues to act the way he does. if y/n can't confide in me or him then who else is she supposed to run to?

“he's not mine anymore wooyoung. i think i've lost him."

i shake my head as she cries in my shoulder.

where did it all go wrong? i mean, he's never been like this before so what now? why is he acting differently now?

"enough is enough. san, please take her home and take care of her. make sure she drinks water and sobers up. i'll be there soon." i tell san who's in the passenger seat and he nods.

"san is here? hi san." she smiles widely, waving in no particular direction.

i give him the keys and wait for him to drive off before heading to yeonjun's apartment, knocking on the door and i wait for him to open. he's got a look of surprise written in his face.

"wooyoung? what are you doing here?" he asks and i shrug. "come in."

i walk in seeing another pair of shoes already there. he offers me a drink which i decline.

"is mara here?" i ask and he nods. "yeah, she's asleep in the room."

"i see."

what's gotten into him? he used to be the most attentive person when it came to y/n so what changed?

"what on earth do you think you're doing?" i ask him.

"sorry?" he asks me, completely dumbfounded by my sudden question.

"do you think what you're doing is right?"

"what's this all about?" he questions, clearly not expecting me to start asking him questions.

"mara is here sleeping am i right?" he nods. "and where is y/n, if you don't mind me asking."

"i sent her home. she came here, caused a scene and started drunkenly shouting so i sent her home because she could've woke mara up." i wanna strangle him so bad right now but i just scoff, deciding to choose peace.

"doesn't it concern you that she's coming to you drunk at 3 in the afternoon?" i ask him but it seems like i'm talking to a brick wall.

"what?"

"you're so dense."

"look, if you came here to do the same then you can go see yourself out."

"do you understand the shit you're putting y/n through?"

"don't involve yourself, this is between y/n and i." he warns but i'm not backing down. he either does something to fix this or he breaks up with her and he's deciding that today. i don't care anymore.

"no, its between you, y/n and mara so i will involve myself too. y/n has been crying non stop for days now because of you and your inability to see what mara is actually doing here."

"she didn't do anything. y/n clearly doesn't trust me to be around her so she's obviously gonna wanna cause a scene."

i raise my eyebrows at his bold choice of words. so he defends her by belittling his own girlfriend... it's bewildering to me.

"you're unbelievable. through all of this, when has she ever accused you of cheating with mara?" he remains silent. what else can he say? there's no way to defend the way he's acting right now and i will call him out for it. "she does trust you asshole, all she wants from you is for you to not blow her off because mara needs you. she needs you too yeonjun."

i'm saying all of this but a small part of me hopes he stays stubborn like this and they break up. san is right, it is selfish but i wanna be there for y/n the way yeonjun is failing to. she deserves so much more than this and that's what i wanna give her but then again.

but there's a small part of me that know i still don't have a chance anyway. she doesn't see me that way and that's the only reason i'm here trying to help save tis relationship. even if it hurts me in the end.

"i'm with her all the time." he defends and i scoff. there's no way he's actually being serious right now.

"that's bullshit and we both know it. when was the last time you two actually spent quality time together?"

"two weeks ago and then she walked out."

"without interruptions." i clarify and yeonjun's face drops. i don't know what he's thinking right now but he better be realizing his mistakes.

"you called her an attention seeker for wanting to be with her boyfriend who's too busy with another girl."

"you're making it sound like something it isn't."

"well how am i supposed to know what actually goes down when the two of you are alone together."

that hits a nerve because he yells for me to shut up and i just smile at his reaction.

"don't you ever accuse me of such things EVER. i love y/n way too much to even think about doing that to her so who are you to even question me on that? besides, you're the last one to talk."

"excuse me?"

don't act like you're not always with her. who knows what you two are doing behind my back?" he asks and i raise my eyebrows. someone needs to be here to slap some sense into him because he's genuinely lost it. if he loves her so much then why is he acting like this.

"that's how much you trust her and i? you know, she's never questioned you about mara. you say love her but you don't trust her? is that it yeonjun? and you have the audacity to say you love her then why don't you fucking show it? she sat outside this very building for who knows how long crying her eyes out asking why you don't love her anymore. she asked why mara can come to you in that very state but she can't and she's your girlfriend, no less. you know what else she said? she said she thinks  she's lost you. she said you're not hers anymore. are you hearing me? she's giving up on you and she’s giving up on trying to singlehandedly save your relationship." i tell him while he looks at me with tears forming in his eyes.

oh now he's listening...

"you know, she's told me before that she's thinking of breaking up with you because loving you is hard and she doesn't think it's worth all this pain it’s giving her."

"she said that?" he asks and i nod.

"i'm gonna give you an ultimatum. it's y/n or mara."

"quit playing wooyoung."

"i'm not. either choose mara and end it with y/n and i will personally make sure it ends or choose y/n and stop being friends with mara."

"why? you hoping i choose mara so that she can run into your arms?" he asks rhetorically but that question has an answer already.

"yes i am, actually. she's already doing that, isn't she?"

"you son of a bitch. i always knew you had feelings for her. if you ever say shit like that to me it won't end well."

"look, i was never even trying to hide it. she only runs to me after you treat her like trash. she doesn't see me like that and you know that. that's why i'm here right now. because no matter what my feelings for her are, you’re the  one she thinks about. you're all she talks about. i know i don't have a chance otherwise you two would've broken up the moment she came to me the first time crying because of you. make a choice yeonjun." i say before walking away.

reader's pov

headache. a fucking headache is the last thing i need right now.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"how are you feeling?"

i open my eyes to see san standing by the door with a mug in hand.

"horrible. why did i do all that?"

"i made some tea for you." he hands me the cup and i thank him, taking a sip a little too quickly because i burnt my tongue. "easy now."

"sorry."

"what happened yesterday?" he asks sitting down on the edge of the bed next to me.

"where do i even start?"

"ladies and gentlemen. sorry i have a little announcement. attention everyone." i slur out to everyone who's around me in the bar. it's more on the secluded part of the club so i can get away with making a little announcement. i just need these people to listen.

"ma'am, get down from there." a man who's sitting at the bar tries to help me down but i haven't said what i needed to yet.

"hold on i need to tell everyone this. HELLO!! yes."

"ma'am get down or i'm afraid we'll have to throw you out."

"my boyfriend is an asshole." i laugh hysterically, clapping and everything. "YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE YEONJUN!!"

"get down!"

"okay okay i am. relax." the people around me helped me down but i was escorted out because these people are boring and don't know how to loosen up.

i could go to yeonjun. i hope he's not busy with mara right now. i miss him and we haven't spoken in a good minute.

i decide to walk, not really feeling like sitting in a stuffy car.

once i get there, i take a breath before knocking on the door and wait for him to open but nothing so i just enter.

"CHOI YEONJUN!" where is he? "babe i miss you where are you?"

"y/n?" he appears from his room and i immediately run to him for a hug.

"were you drinking?" he asks annoyed. what's his problem?

"just a little. i had like 5..."

"y/n."

"bottles." i burst out laughing but he doesn't seem to find it funny. so uptight.

"y/n you're drunk."

"am not." i pout and he rolls his eyes.

"why are you drinking at this time of the day?"

"because of you. you made me feel like shit when you didn't respond my message yesterday. o drank because you don't care about me yeonjun. you didn't even call to check. WHY DIDN'T YOU AT LEAST CALL ME? TELL ME!"

"yeonjun?" i look at the person calling his name and there stands mara in the doorway to his room.

"babe is she wearing my clothes?" i ask him after eyeing her up and down.

"she's just borrowing them."

"no you are incorrect. YOU yeonjun, took it upon yourself to give her my clothes. borrowing would imply that she asked me to wear my clothes and me allowing her to but it's nothing of the sort. see how it works? come on, go change." i tell her walking towards her but yeonjun holds me back from walking forward.

"what am i going to wear then? jun please speak to her." she is such a bit-

"y/n."

"give her yours then. there problem solved, now everyone can have their tea. i'm so smart." i pat myself on the back beaming at my bright idea.

"y/n you're embarrassing yourself."

"in front of who?" i start looking around to see if there's anyone else here but it's just the three of us. "i don't see anyone."

"me. you're embarrassing me."

"okay but in front of who though?"

"y/n go home, alright, you're drunk and you woke mara up."

"oh sorry mara. i didn't mean to barge into your home and wake you up. and don't even worry about my clothes you can have them. you've already taken something else from me, getting upset over clothes would just be trivial."

"Y/N!" i immediately stop talking, flinching from him shouting my name suddenly. my heart starts rapidly beating and my breaking picks up pace. "please just go home. now."

i nod, trying to hold back my tears as i walk out the door.

"im so sorry y/n." san said, taking my hand in his to try to comfort me. i keep my head ducked.

the door opens and wooyoung walks in.

"san what did you do to her?" he jokes making me laugh a little bit.

"nothing. shut up."

"y/n, can i talk to you?"

"sure." he walks in, sitting down next to san.

"i spoke to yeonjun." he starts off but i don't wanna hear it. anything with regards to him, i don't wanna hear it. his name alone just upsets me.

"let's not mention his name right now."

"i gave him an ultimatum." he blankly says and i look at him.

"what's the point? he's chosen her time and time again, what's the point? and talking about him will just piss me off." i dismiss the idea, not wanting to talk about it further. "let's talk about something else." i suggest.

"you really not gonna talk to him?" san asks and i shake my head.

"i don't want to. you know, something in me keeps telling me to just meet up with him so i can end it, but i'm weak. i'm too weak to do something like that."

"you can't avoid him either though." wooyoung injects but i shake my head.

"then give me time to think things over."

"i'll respect whatever decision you make." he says.

"thank you woo. but please don't let me cause a dent in your friendship. the last thing i want is for you two to stop talking on my expense."

"i'm just gonna say it. y/n, you're too good for him." san says making me smile.

"thank you." i finish my tea and take a shower before heading back to my place.

--

i look through the racks of the detergent aisle. i've been needing to buy groceries for a while.

the past week after the whole incident at yeonjun's apartment have been complete hell. a whole back and forth of emotions and its honestly too much for me but i need some air and run errands and basically get my shit together because i can't let a man put my whole life on pause like this.

my phone beeps and i check, smiling while reading wooyoung's message. him and san have been checking up on me every 3 hours, driving me up the wall here and there but i appreciate it nonetheless.

once i get home, carrying my groceries, genuinely in a good mood after actually taking a walk but ummm.

"what are you doing here?" i ask the girl.

"just visiting a mutual friend." she slyly responds making me roll my eyes.

"get lost."

"no."

"suit yourself."

i unlock the door, going in, shutting it in her face, waving before locking the door.

because i thought a bitch said something. i do not have time today.

i put on my music, deciding to clean up and pack my stuff like the mature adult i am.

while i'm going through my bills, i hear rattling at the door.

now who's trying to break in?

i stand up to go check, deciding to bang on the door to stop this person but then they start again.

"see what i’m not gonna do is deal with this rattling noise going through these thin ass walls, if you wanna get in just knock like a normal person dammit!"

the person knocks and i open the door. why? i don't know, i could literally be in danger.

"what the hell do you want?" i look at the tall man in front of me, not really expecting him to be standing there.

"oh it’s you." i try to close the door but he pushes it and keeps it open. "are you here to shout at me for closing the door in your precious mara's face?" i ask looking at the girl standing behind him.

"i'm here to talk to you."

"i don't wanna talk to you. look i've been having a good day today so please take your little hip attachment and leave."

she looks at me smugly and i decided to just turn a blind eye because she's pissing me off.

"mara please leave." he tells her not even looking at her. her face drops and i look at yeonjun, confused.

"do you want me to wait for you outside?" she asks him, voice getting high pitched as if she wasn't sounding like someone's father while speaking to me earlier.

"go home mara." he sternly tells her.

"jun-"

"leave." he urges making her open and close her mouth like a fish. deserved bitch.

"yeonjun why are you here?" i ask in a defeated tone not really in the mood to talk to him right now.

"i wanted to talk to you. can we please talk?"

"no." i try closing the door again and he stops my from doing so again.

"please y/n."

"i don't want to talk to you right now. please just leave me alone and don't be so rude to mara. go with her and leave me alone please."

"y/n."

"GO."

"i'm not ready to give up on us y/n."

"I TRIED WITH YOU YEONJUN! i've been trying with you. it’s only when i've reached my limit when you come to me with that? it took someone to force you to make a choice for you to realize the shit you’ve done but all those times i've pleaded with you flew over your head. i stood in your apartment drunk as a cry for help and you threw me out because i woke your dearest friend up! i took everything and accepted it quietly. you called me names and i accepted it, you spoke to me however you wanted to and i accepted it. you had that girl in MY CLOTHES, USING MY SHIT SLEEPING IN YOUR BED AND I FUCKING KEPT QUIET. i never once doubted you or your relationship with mara, only to have wooyoung tell me that you had the fucking audacity to question my loyalty to you when i've never given you a reason to. it's not fair so for you to come here, sending mara away in front of me as if to prove a point and demand that i talk to you. it's just pathetic." i yell out to him, finally getting it off my chest.

it felt good to actually say it and dare i say, to shout at him the way i did.

"you're only here because wooyoung gave you an ultimatum and that's what fucking opened your eyes? i'm your girlfriend yeonjun, not a choice and if it's gotten to a point where you havr to you're have to choose me or someone else then please just don't bother choosing me, it's insulting. now please give me some time and leave from here."

he nods his head and i can see the prominent pain in his eyes but i need to stand my ground.

he finally leaves and i shut the door. i truly can't believe this guy.

"fuck you yeonjun!" i sob out quietly. i've found myself saying that a lot lately because who does he actually think he is?

the last couple of weeks have been hell and here he comes all willy-nilly talking about some, 'i'm not giving up on us' well it sure as hell felt like it. after pushing me away for so long he only comes to me now after i've given up? i've told him how i felt but he only listened after someone else told him.

still, after all the heartache, my heart is still too weak to leave him.

i know that mara is the main reason all of this is happening, he's never acted this way until she developed feelings for him and decided to try to separate us, but he still made his own decisions regardless of that. he let her get between us and he chose to treat me the way he did.

he's just a caring person though. that's how he is but if he's caring, then we wouldn't be like this now.

i wanna get back to how we once were but there's this lingering question of 'what if this all happens again?'. i mean, he didn't hesitate to forget me once so what's stopping him from doing it again?

my phone rings and i walk to go pick it up, seeing it's wooyoung calling.

"hello?"

"are you dumb?" he asks me and i furrow my eyebrows.

"okay ouch, first of all, and second, where is this coming from?" i ask him.

"why did you shut yeonjun down when he wanted to talk things out?"

"because i'm tired woo. he's been putting me on the back burner for another girl for weeks before i said anything and when i did, it all just spiraled after that. he spoke to me any which way and i took it but it became too much. i'm tired from all the chasing." i rant out to him, feeling tears forming.

"so what does this mean for the two of you?" he asks.

that's a good question...

the next week has just been me thinking everything through. 3 years together is a long time to consider.

i call yeonjun telling him i’m outside before entering the building. i walk to his door thinking over, knocking on it before he opens it.

"y/n. uh come in." he steps aside, allowing me in. being in here fills my head with nothing but memories of the recent events. that's not a good sign.

"do you want anything?" he asks but i decline.

sitting at the kitchen table in awkward silence, my leg bouncing up and down from the nerves that have taken over.

"i'm sorry for lashing out on you last timea. i didn't let you explain your side of the story which was unfair on my part." i tell him, avoiding eye contact.

"how you reacted was valid. i haven't been the best boyfriend to you for a long time now and i wanna apologize for everything. for the way i spoke to you and treated you. it was completely unwarranted and unnecessary and i should have listened to you the first time, no actually, i shouldn't have given you a reason to feel that way in the first place."

i see tears forming in his eyes as he speaks and it takes a lot in me to not engulf him in a hug to comfort him. i can't do that right now, i need to be headstrong.

"it shouldn't have taken someone else to talk to me about this before realizing what i did to you and i should have managed my priorities better. you know, you're the most important person to me and i didn't show it and worst of all, i questioned your loyalty to me, not once but twice."

that's what breaks my heart more than anything. i haven't given any reason to feel that way which is why i was shocked when he doubted got just me but wooyoung as well. everything between us has been nothing but platonic but clearly he didn't see it that way. a tear rolls down his cheek and i look away so that i don't see him crying, it's my biggest weakness.

i never once did. not even when i saw mara walk out of his room because that's how much i trust him. you can't love without trust and he clearly couldn't seem to trust me and that's what stings the most.

"i should know better than anyone that you wouldn't even think of doing such a thing. look, i regret everything y/n. you shouldn't be apologizing for the way you reacted yesterday, i was wrong, i let someone get between us and i hurt you. that's my biggest regret." he says.

we both have tears running down our eyes but i still refuse to look in his eyes. he takes hold of my hand before continuing to talk.

"i'm not asking for you to forgive me right away because i know that's a big ask but let me earn it please."

"okay. you can earn my forgiveness." i smile weakly at him before quickly looking away. "by letting me go." i finish and i feel his grip on my hand loosen a bit.

and that is why i didn't want to look in his eyes. because i know i wouldn't be able to tell him that had i looked in his eyes.

it hurts to do but i know it's the best decision for me right now.

" y/n, what- what are you saying?" he asks, stumbling over his words.

"i thought about this yeonjun. the things you've said to me, the things you've done. it was so easy for you to forget how to act, who's to say it won't happen again?"

"i cut ties with mara."

"it shouldn't have to get to that point. that means that you'd let this keep happening otherwise. it shouldn't get to the point of you having to choose."

"i don't wanna lose you." he weakly tells me but i shake my head.

"actions have consequences. please let me go. let's end this here." i feel the lump in my throat forming and that's the last thing i need. i can't let myself change my mind now. i've had to think about this far too long to let myself fall back in his arms. it's for the best.

"is that really what you want?" he asks and i nod, not trusting myself to talk. "then that's it."

i let out a breath i didn't know i was holding.

"i love you yeonjun."

"i love you too." he says before letting go of my hand.

i walk out without looking back, because if i do, i'll just run back to him.

‘sorry heart, i guess we’ll just have to start again.’

i let more tears fall as i walk into wooyoung's car.

"ready to go?" he asks and i nod and with that he drives off.

"you missed the exit." i told him and he just smiles.

"i know."

"where are we going?"

"who knows?"

"wooyoung."

"you need to see some scenery, get some air, and let your mind relax so that's why. remember, there's a method behind my madness. there always is." he saus smiling.

"thank you woo."

"don't. you deserve the best and i'll always be there to give you just that." he says to me making me smile.

[shallowrambles]

So, on the subject of Sam being neurodivergent…

If he often struggles to read people and agonizes over moral relativism, I think his season 8 behavior makes perfect sense in some ways…

(Especially when you add in the fight-or-flight seesaw. His wall got terribly broken and repaired; and then he lost both Dean and Cas, and he didn’t just not look for them. He was afraid of looking for them. Sam is the man most afraid of grief. Limbo was preferable to grieving them if they’d turned out to be truly dead. Thus, the resulting deserting his post / utter nervous breakdown).

///

Anyway, Re: Sam’s neurodivergence. Sam, and especially later-seasons Sam, doesn’t seem to operate on gut feeling as comfortably as he does by-the-book type of structures.

And while it hurts a bit to realize it, Sam could be mostly mirroring the assistance Dean and Bobby gave to him in early seasons.

After all, Sam also had a monstrous ally who earned trust and offered assistance over a period of years. An ally who even saved Dean’s life on occasion! It’s not a jump to assume Sam’s mind has created a snapshot of this instance to use in real life the way we use our experiences like a training simulation.

Post-deserting his post, Sam’s horrified by his own weakness and flakiness. So, charitably, we can assume he tries to overcorrect his support. And when he’s “looking out for his brother,” part of him is referring to this neurodivergent “checklisting of items” he’s stored in his head.

In this instance, being wary of self-interested-but-caring-outsiders was modeled by Dean and Bobby!

The Ruby scenario is now a pattern in Sam’s head, embedded like a board of blackout bingo terms.

And Sam is a little bit right in that, that no matter how “arms-length” Dean keeps his partnership, no matter how “controlling the means of communication and controlling the flow of blood donation” Dean crafts it to be, it poses real risk to Dean, which is underlined boldly in text, regardless of the stress-testing Sam engineers.

(But crucially, Sam is also a lot in the wrong, too.)

///

I think this “flight simulation” style of thinking happens in season 10, too.

Dean “at least Sam will die human then” Winchester and Bobby (and Cas) undertook extreme lockdown techniques to get Sam through the “withdrawal” phase of his affliction in a 4-5.

And it was successful! (Drug withdrawal is no joke, but it’s not torture for the sake of torture, or social rejection for the sake of social rejection. I personally feel like rushing to pin it as a crude stand-in for conversion therapy is uncharitable and way off.)

Point is, Sam’s got a pre-existing template for the Demon Dean purification scenario. It’s what was done to him.

His family recognized when it was “the affliction talking” to get Sam to a place of health. Sam knows Dean loves him, loves singing, loves his car…

And lo— when all is said and done, Sam is right about this. Sam’s hypocritical cruelty and evil pragmatism to save his loved ones aside, Sam is right that Dean doesn’t want to lose himself in a numbing world of black-and-white, Purgatory-style numbness and fatalism.

Dean says on multiple occasions just how much he hated becoming “that thing.” He verbalizes that the mark and demonness are an assault on his free will; and he’d rather die before becoming it again.

Of the mark, Dean calls Crowley out for lying and pulling a Metatron on Dean to further Crowley’s own goals. And of the mark, Dean says, after blacking out and losing control a la Godstiel-a-political-convection: “Fellas, this thing’s gotta go.”

Sam knows Dean, and because he knows Dean, he recognizes that the demonness was not a secret true self any more that the suicidal ideation brought on by Sam’s trials was Sam’s secret dream…

And once again, Sam’s actually a little bit right about Crowley; we just tend to politely look away from it. (Draining humans as late as season 9; killing queer suburbanites in s11 to make a hasty phone call etc etc)

That Sam is a little bit right about some details makes parsing his moral relativism even more difficult for him, I think.

EDIT:

(He’s also probably confused by when his emotions irrationally drive him in certain scenarios, like when he makes a connection with a “freak” that’s so strong that he overlooks “rules.” He ties himself in knots rationalizing, perhaps. We all do. It’s horrifying how irrational we are, really.)

///

In his middling-Sam days, when the scenario doesn’t play out according to the checklist/scenario stored in his head, Sam tries to counter-balance the equation so it’s forced to fit.

I.E: “I was wrong, so therefore Dean is also wrong because enough of these checklisted conditions look the same. No? I’ll just have to hit fast-forward on a few things and prove it to him then!”

Obviously there’s a lot more than the above at play. There’s of human emotions, baggage, pettiness, pride etc etc in the mix. But every single person’s got that, too. Being a human is complicated.

But I do think Sam’s dissociative manner of coping is nifty! The neurodivergent scarecrow/brain/head choice is fun to consider in the context of the above, no?

[sick-ada]

OKAY SECOND PART (I HIT THE CHARACTER LIMIT I DIDNT EVEN KNOW THERE WAS A LIMIT ON TUMBLR

again, big long text under the readmore

we were on proto werent we yeah

proto gets along with CB and Bubbles a lot better than with Flora, since cb and bubbles actually follow their orders and plans, even before theyre promoted to captain. flora obeys them even less after theyre promoted, for the record

this is very obviously because theyre traumatised child soldiers who were conditioned by both the octarian military and the metro where you explode if you dont follow instructions, but proto manages to delude themselves into thinking it's bc the twins respect their leadership

the twins completely stop obeying them after splatoon 3. granted, they leave the NSS after splat3, but by that point flora and bola have managed to get them out of the "you gotta obey authority figures Or Else" mentality

also because uh. the twins got the rest of their mem cakes back LMAO they remember what proto and the squid sisters set in motion and are NOT happy. theyd be willing to forgive if they had apologised rather than hiding it and hoping the twins wouldnt find out but they didnt sooooo

bola HATES proto so goddamn much. theyve met in person maybe thrice. the first time was when octo expansion had just finished and the way proto was talking to these kids bola's age like they were soldiers rubbed them the wrong way. the second time, proto came across bola while they were stealing something and called the cops on them. the third time was when they came back from alterna and visited flora in the hospital. bola had to be physically restrained to stop them trying to bite out protos jugular. they got one good sucker-punch in at least

NEXT IS PLUTO (THEY/THEM, NEO 3) BUT I'M NOT SUPER CERTAIN ABOUT THESE HEADCANONS SO THEYRE SUBJECT TO CHANGE

Pluto's "Lil' Buddy" is a Horrorboros called Leviathan's Flight over Verdant Pastures (she/her), or levi for short

(idk if that salmonid name makes sense, salmonid naming and rainworld iterator naming have blended together in my mind and i cannot separate them)

theyre actually older than proto! proto is 24 in splat3 and pluto is 27. proto doesnt know this because i think it should be a recurring character flaw that proto just randomly assumes people's ages and doesnt ask ever.

pluto straight up doesn't care about the NSS or proto's commands. they came down into the crater to scavenge, attacked octavio cause they wanted to tear apart and sell his mech, and is basically motivated by the same "i want the treasure" mindset as Deep Cut

unlike deep cut, they have a horrorboros as a partner. they dont fight deep cut so much as they launch booyah bombs until they yield

it's splatlands culture to fight people, shows that you respect them enough to consider them a threat, but also asserts that you're stronger than them and could kick their ass

they are Very offended when the NSS just start USING the treasure that THEY earned, especially when it gets so damaged by the fuzzy ooze that it's basically unsaleable. theres a dramatic moment of proto being like "why the hell are you mad we literally got this to save gramps" and pluto being like "WE??? kid you didnt do shit and i dont care about your grandpa. fuck off and let me do my thing"

the fight with grizz is VERY fast. if smallfry gets that big, what do you think happens to a horrorboros? the moon is permanently coated in salmonid-ink in a suspiciously booyah bomb shaped pattern. they take all the most valuable bits of the rocket to sell and dont even go back down to alterna

as far as they're concerned, they were never a member of the NSS, never wanted to be, and owe nothing to these presumptious assholes. theyve got better things to do than argue with some spoiled inkopolis kids

in this version of canon, deep cut respect pluto and levi (the ones who showed respect by fighting them for the treasure) over the NSS (the ones who stole the treasure for their own purposes without fighting or even issuing a challenge), so they decide that pluto and levi are their bosses instead

pluto groans when they find out. levi thinks it's hilarious

oh yeah i need actual context for pluto and levi not just redescribing the splat3 campaign

theyre both rogues, deliberately unaffiliated with any groups (shoals? schools?) of salmonids or any particular inkfish city. they were raised together with salmonids but levi didnt see any particular honour or value in getting killed and eaten so pluto suggested running away together

they make a living by scavenging in the splatlands and selling to people on the outskirts of splatsville which, in this canon, is a hell of a lot more chaotic than in-game

deep cut also have a lot more actual authority than "the idol group who announces the map changes" in this canon, which pluto is not above using to get them and levi unrestricted access in and out of the city. having minions has some benefits, they guess

idk if theyre ever gonna meet the leftovers squad. i honestly dont know if pluto would care about a random group of inkopolis teens unless i made some plot reason for them to. idk

ANYWAY THATS ALL OF THEM. FOR NOW

[soullikethesea]

Fox reflections. Very long.

I listened to some of the old music. The stuff Fox felt was close to his heart. He likes sending me lyrics sometimes. A common bit I remember went something like this: "I need us undivided, I need this thing to stop. I had the training to be overwhelmed, but I'm not. Empty soul of hate, but this isn't my war. Couldn't tell you where it started or how it begun..." There's so much there that I have not processed yet. Stuff that feels too painful still. No words for it yet. He selected these songs: Radical Face – Holy Branches When you were young You'd bite your tongue Calm, always did what you were told Never ran your mouth Lived life on tiptoes Only felt peace if by yourself Where mistakes don't count [Bridge] There's a hole in your chest From the time that you were born One that don't get filled Cause you've always known you're nothing they want [Chorus] But everybody's bones are just holy branches Cast from trees to cut patterns in the world And in time we find some shelter Spill our leaves and then sleep in the Earth And when we're there, we'll belong Cause the Earth don't give a damn if you're lost.

Radical Face – Ghost towns I've got no need for open roads Cause all I own fits on my back I see the world from rusted trains And always know I won't be back Cause all my life is wrapped up in today No past or future here If I find my name's no good I just fall out of line

[Chorus]

But I miss you But there's no comin' home There's no comin' home With a name like mine I still think of you But everyone knows Yeah everyone knows If you can, let it go.

Radical Face – Everything costs Dreams, like coins down a well Till I realized I was dumb for believing To the bird with no flight The skies don't ever offer respite So I wandered off And went to fill the holes in my shadow But everything costs Proof was etched into the backs of my hands

[Bridge]

I heard you say that you'd lost, you'd lost, you'd lost, you'd lost your way But I don't think you had much to lose That house was never built for you

[Chorus]

And I ain't gonna hang my head for them, for them And I ain't gonna let them paint the truth with sin And I ain't gonna tell you it's okay when at the end of the day You were just something they'd blame

[Verse 2]

… So I took up the fight And the roaring in my head was like thunder Until I uncurled my fists And allowed myself to not give a damn.

The common theme seems to be accepting that you're not welcome. In the first song it ends up with focusing on Earth instead. In the second song it felt like "having the wrong name" referred to being "the wrong part" to gain acceptance/love. I tried *so* hard to give up wanting a connection with my mum. In the third song it feels like it's about giving up the anger as well. So I suppose maybe the general hopelessness makes sense in the context of perhaps holding the purpose of giving up on the possibility of connection. I know The Fox is the only one who ever really succeeded in that. But it's interesting that as Fox has disappeared/been sleeping for most of the time after adolescence, we've sort of rekindled connection to our mum & yet also given up on most other connections. There's some more insight stuff that I can't reach. If there's something really obvious that I'm missing, please point it out if you can. My mind feels slippery around this stuff.

[jack-of-all-trades-21]

Additional protagonist starterpack pt.2

I kinda feel stupid that I'm posting these far after the whole hype of season 2, but I give two for the price of one, which is cool I guess.

i. "Zookeeper'' ii. Sniper on the rooftop

'Jesus!!'

Is this really how I need to let my physical strength be tested?

People always said I was good for spades games, but I can't even climb up a couple sets of stairs. I'm useless. I just hope I can make it right. Can you imagine being the hero here? Laying down my shot, everyone being shocked when it lands, and then they're wondering where it came from, eyes searching, they all look up in complete awe and see me. What a proud moment that will be.

I wonder if anyone can hear me right now. Are my heavy and slumped footsteps a thing you can hear from outside? Or even the whole echo it causes, does it move outside from this withered complex? Not all windows are crashed out of it, though on the first couple of floors most are, probably because of all the plants forcing their way through them. The higher you go, the more glass is still intact you could say, which makes sense if the plants haven't climbed as high yet.

Oh I need to fucking control my breathing, It's killing me.

I should have gotten that asthma test when I was younger.

I also should have stayed home more.

I miss my bed.

What even makes me think it is my responsibility to go in and kill the king of spades?

'Hey is it ok if I stay with you for a while?'

'Why would you want to do that?' I remember how I said this, looking back it wasn't as cool as I thought it was.

'Well.. we did just go through a lot together... and I was just thinking.. You're good in spades games and I have quite some smarts. Being together means we're a good team, which means we also cover the clubs card type that way and-'

'I get it. It's fine. Why are you so invested in this stuff anyway?' I was invested in this "stuff" too. After all, everybody wanted to survive.

It disgusts me how this conversation always plays in my head when I'm at my most vulnerable. I'm about to give up and this is what my mind wants to do to me.

So maybe I am stronger than I think. I just made a mistake, that doesn't mean I'm weak. I gave good reasons to team up, so I should be valuable. Learning how to operate a gun whilst trying to survive through different battles of survival is quite something. Not that using a sniper has come handy in many of them. Learning to hit soda cans, then long-distance targets and then small animals. It was food and it was practice. And yet I haven't pulled the trigger on a person. There are definitely some people on which I wish I could've done so, but I guess you never get the perfect opportunity to kill anyone you hate most. Or maybe this is only a problem I face.

Maybe.

I'm almost there though. The fact these stairs change to the opposite direction every half floor is not only making me dizzy, I also don't seem to remember from which side I came in and how everything is oriented around me. It's something that will be found out once actually being on the roof and searching for the more main road, cause that is where the spades king was moving from.

A couple levels ago I got scared there would be a locked door at the top of the stairs. Well, it does make sense that no one in this place has called me smart before. Luckily there was light shining down to the stairs I had been walking, and given that there were no other windows around that form such pattern of light, I found out the emergency rooftop exit was open before starting on the last of the set of stairs.

For some reason I felt like it was a nice moment to dramatically stand in front of the last flight of steps. The light hitting my face made me squint at my end goal. Well, end goal might be the wrong word here, but this was my goal regardless.

What even comes after this? Another spades game? Which one of the facecards would even be left?

Wouldn't it be better to join them? At least then I would be fighting at the front lines, rather than fighting back in the most cowardly way ever seen.

I don't know, and I don't care; I'm not the smart one and I just want to get the fuck out of here. So let's just lay down and see if I can line up a shot.

What the fuck?!

Where is he?

I swear he was moving along the main road!

wait. I hear gunshots in that other ally on the other side of the road.

And screaming. people are dying in there.

Has it quieted down?

I am painfully aware of everything. This all affects me. My eyes are extremely big in shock, and are watering to annoying extends. My skin feels cold on the outside, but blood is running furiously throughout. Potential allies are lost and-

A woman is screaming.

Not one long screech. I can here the movement. It's pulsating. It's just like how light flickers, but then it's her voice. It is probably their last man standing, beaten to death by the king of spades, who likely ran out of bullets whilst killing the rest, and uses his hands to finish the job. If I was in that ally, I could hear her skull crack.

The screams became inconsistent. Is it a different woman I'm hearing? Something banged against metal. I can see some containers in the alley. What's going on? Are those players finally dead?

'Stop being so emotional about it.'

They're dead. My companion is dead. And the king of spades isn't. He's about to walk out that passageway, and when he does, I will kill him.

Another shot echoed. I want to say that it was the king, having renewed his ammo, but something feels off. It didn't sound the same as before. It had a different ring to it, and it almost sounded like it came from higher up. The king will come out of that alley right?

There's no clear sounds anymore. I can still hear movement here and there but it wasn't the same as before. It felt like I was in their fight. Not on top of a building, but around the corner of that place I can see on the other side. I went through it with them, only with a blindfold on. At least I'm still alive.

What I saw next was beyond my thoughts. I normally talk within myself as things happen, but with this level of surprise, and it happening so sudden, I really cannot muster up words to describe to myself what's happening. And with that I lost my comfort. If even your voice of reason stops, it's impossible to move on. My vocabulary sucks as well, so trying to convince yourself two people did just jump out of the second floor of the building across and setting it on making an explosion happen mere seconds later requires some brainpower. What happened after was worse. Another body shot out of the building from the power of the explosion. I had a sudden suspicion one of those three people was the spades king. One was wearing something white, so they couldn't be it. The other two are not really easy to discern. Similar skin, both no hair on their heads, wearing black. Through the scope of my rifle I only saw one had a sleeveless top on. But who knows who that might be.

A lot of rubble flew up, so it's hard for me to find those three back. I completely lost the king out of my view.

Another shot rang. It sounded like thunder. And somehow I knew it was over.

Not long after I heard the blimp fall down. I've heard the falling of a blimp before, so I was sure that it was exactly that without even searching for it.

As I lied down on my back, the sky slowly started to fill itself with small particles, flakes almost, of ashes. Now more than ever I was questioning what I did to deserve making it further than them. Why did I outlive my one and only friend in this hell?

[toasnearlynakedghost]

I hate that for Guy’s costume they gave him a whip. I don’t like his hat. Why is there shoulder fringe epaulette on one shoulder but not the other? I know they don’t need wings to fly since they have magic but Guy’s wings are just charred bloody bones. It looks like he got into a fight with another demon who ripped all the flesh and any scales or feathers off of them. If a real winged animal had something like that happen to them then they’d be bleeding to death. Also there are spaces between some of the bones of the wings. No joints, cartilage, ligaments. Nothing holding them together. What’s keeping them up there? Guy’s magic?

Why is one of Toa’s wings bigger than the other one? Why aren’t his wings the same size? I know they don’t need wings to fly since they have magic but chains on the wings would impede flight. Are his horns not symmetrical or do they just look that way because of the angle they are at?

I don’t like that they gave Fenn’s costume a whip. Hallowed Eve is the only time of the year Fenn’s right arm gets to be in a different pose. He’s usually holding his right arm up for the rest of the year so Hallowed Eve is the only time he gets to rest his arm. I like the pattern, shading, and coloring on the inside of his wings.

I don’t like Roy’s hat. His hat looks a lot like Guy’s hat. Is he wearing a hat to try to look like Guy? I don’t like the design of Roy’s wings. Why are there holes in the bottom of his wings? It looks like moths ate holes into them.

Rio’s hat looks like it may be a bit too small for him, like it’s not securely attached to his head, and like it’s about to fall off of his head. I expected Lance to be someone who would wear a necktie loosened. I was surprised to see Rio wearing one. Rio is the only one who has a pitchfork. I presume this is because the other princes are more skilled at using magic than him and Rio is practiced in sword fighting. The little flag on his costume looks kind of like a pride flag. It makes it look like he’s using Hallowed Eve as a way to come out.

The only thing I dislike about Headmaster Lou’s costume is the epaulettes because I don’t like epaulettes. I like that his costume has four wings. I think it suits him that his wings have feathers instead of being bat like wings like most of the other consorts.

Wow Lance’s horns are bigger than anybody else’s horns. I wonder if that’s supposed to be symbolic of something? I don’t like the giant silver epaulette on his left shoulder or the fur ruff on his right shoulder. I’m surprised to see Lance wearing a tie and that he hasn’t loosened it or taken it off.

I don’t like the shoulder cape on Lynt’s costume just because it covers up part of the top of his costume. I like the color gradient and shading on the inside of his wings.

Gently Roasting Court of Darkness Halloween Outfits*

*Comments are made in jest. Please don’t get me demons

Guy: If a Nazi went gothic and decided chicken bone skeleton wings were in fashion.

Toa: Do the gold chains on your wings make them aerodynamic?

Fenn: *Looks at collar on his neck* Here kitty, kitty, kitty…

Roy: Demons wear pink bow ties? And cosplay as hotel waitstaff?

Rio: Each rope and colored flag represents a plate of food you ate today.

Lou: Double the wings, double the mystery.

Lance: Ummm��Lance why is there a wolf tail growing from the back of your neck?

Lynt: Your parents dressed you as a demon for Halloween and went “how precious!” didn’t they?

[musings-of-a-rose]

Requests are open?! How about enemies to lovers “would falling in love with me be so terrible” with the Pedro boy of your choosing? Please and thank you ☺️

Your Sunshine

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!agent reader

Word Count: 6200+ (whoops)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This took me so long to figure out a character because I feel like some of Pedro’s characters with the enemies to lovers trope has been done a lot. I thought of Pike first and couldn’t come up with ways to hate him, so I bounced some ideas off of @astoryisaloveaffair and we came up with a whole separate fic with chapters with another Pedro boy, so I came back to Marcus for this ask. Thanks to @vanemando15 for giving me ideas as to how to be enemies with Pike!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Marcus Pike Masterlist

“Is this going to be a problem, Agent?”

You put on a strained smile, speaking through gritted teeth. “Of course not, sir. When do I report to..him?”

He shuffles the file papers, checking a date. “Mmm it looks like you’ll report to Agent Pike this Friday.”

“Friday? As in tomorrow?”

“Ah, yes. I suppose it is tomorrow. Make sure to keep your receipts to turn into HR. Agent Pike will give you details on your living arrangements.”

“Great. I can’t wait.” You stand and cross to the door, closing it behind you in the most professional way you can muster.

Your boss had given you the rest of the day to gather some of your personal things, your flight leaving first thing in the morning. The job is great but sometimes the schedule sucks - it makes it hard to make and keep relationships, whether friends or more, which is probably why you’ve remained single. Not that you hadn’t dated, but it was hard to keep someone when you would have to randomly move across the country for several months at a time.

At home, you roll clothes into your suitcases, packing 2 since you’ll be living in DC for the length of the case, which could easily be several months.

Marcus fucking Pike. Just thinking about him sets your teeth on edge. The golden boy of the FBI, Agent Pike had been insufferable. Sure he was smart, agile, had great aim, could fight well, and ok fine, he was easy on the eyes, but that just made it worse. He never had to fight past the glass ceiling, people rolling their eyes at you when you made requests, simply based on the fact you’re a woman. You’d assumed in this day and age that sexism would be at least more covert in a respectable agency like the FBI, but you were proven wrong on your first day at the academy. You had solved the fake case, presented your argument for why person A was the guilty party and here comes Marcus, presenting the exact same case but getting top marks simply because he’s a man. The instructor was an older agent and he was set in his ways, always looking for something to nit pick on you for and, it seemed, trying to get you to quit, which only made you dig your heels in further.

That same day, you had pulled Marcus aside and asked him his reasoning on the case. He explained and to your surprise, he’d had the same thought pattern as you. But when you asked him why he thought that you got a significantly lower grade than him, he simply said “Be faster next time.” As if the professor didn’t just randomly pick students.

At every turn, Marcus was there trying to one-up you, knowing that it got under your skin. You supposed it pushed you to become a better agent, always trying to be one step ahead. But that damn glass wall was hard and unyielding at times and you would see Marcus sail right on past it, grin on his face as all the other women would fawn over him, potential agent or no.

The smirk on his face when he would come out on top made you want to punch him, but you’d worked too hard to get this far to let some man ruin it for you. When he picked art as his special concentration, you could swear that he did it just to spite you, as if he wanted nothing more in life than to follow you around annoying the shit out of you, gliding through his life and being handed things on a silver platter.

So when you’d graduated, Marcus went to Texas? Southern California? You didn’t care - you’d gone straight to Seattle, loving the Pacific Northwest weather. Not to mention the view - mountains were something you’d loved, and seeing them daily with the occasional sighting of your beloved orca whales in Puget Sound? You couldn’t imagine leaving here permanently.

Sighing as you throw the last of the things you’d need to take with you into your suitcase, you decide to head down to Pike Place and get a drink, maybe stare out at the Sound before it gets too dark - your flight leaves too early in the morning and you’ll miss it then.

As the sun sets over the cold waters of Puget Sound, you think about how you’re going to work with Marcus fucking Pike of all agents. You groan and slide your hands over your face before heading home, telling yourself to get a good amount of sleep before tomorrow - you at least need to look good when meeting Pike.

—----

A car had been waiting for you when you left the airport, bringing you to an average hotel not too far from the office. An email sent to you by HR had said they were putting you up for a few days while your new place was being cleaned and that a car would be issued to you when the apartment was ready. Dropping off your bags, you call an Uber and head to work, eager to meet the team but dreading having to see Pike. Better get it over with.

The receptionist directed you to the floor of the art division and you noticed it was practically the basement. Patting down your clothes, the elevator doors open and you step out, turning your head left and right to figure out where you should go.

“Well well well.. It’s Agent Sunshine.”

You stiffen, the voice, calling out your ironic nickname comes from behind you. Slapping on a forced smile, you turn to speak to Marcus.

“Agent Pike.”

He has the audacity to smile at you, a genuine smile as he walks up and sticks his hand out. You glance down at it for a moment before shaking it, thinking it was the more professional route. Why are his hands so warm?

“Welcome to D.C. I take it you’ve been checked into the hotel?”

“I have.”

“Sorry about that - the unit we’ve acquired for you needed some minor repairs and it’s not quite finished. Should have you there in a few days. I hope that’s ok?”

“It’s what it is. It’ll be fine.”

His chocolate eyes scan yours and you’d forgotten how much annoying eye contact this man gives you.

“Come. I’ll show you to your desk.”

You follow Marcus down the hall and into another, passing multiple doors and glass office walls before heading through another locked door. “Your id will get you through here,” Marcus tosses over his shoulder. He leads you to a small office with 2 desks in it facing each other. He gestures to the empty one.

“Home sweet home.”

You set your bag down and take stock - generic desk, fully stocked of office supplies, and a computer. You’ll bring in a plant or something tomorrow to make it more you.

“And who am I sharing with?”

Marcus rubs the back of his neck and his eyes shift around the room nervously.

“Uh, that would be me.”

“What?” The word escapes you before you can choke it back.

“There’s no space anywhere else so I had them move your desk into my office.”

“Wait…this is your office?”

“It is.”

“I can find somewhere else for my desk.”

He shakes his head. “There’s not a lot of space down here. It’s fine, Sunshine, really.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He smiles. “There it is! The Sunshine smile.”

You roll your eyes and sit in your chair, adjusting it to your height.

“They stuck you all the way in the basement, huh? Did we pass Mulder’s office on the way in?”

He glares playfully at you. “Just when I thought I might have missed you, you open your mouth.”

“So we did pass his office then?” You smirk as he all but sticks his tongue out at you.

“Ha-ha. Come on, let me show you around.”

“Will I need to change into walking shoes? There’s just so much distance between us and the rest of the building.”

“I’d say it keeps the riff raff out but, here you are.”

“Who says riff raff anymore?”

He chuckles as he leads you from the office and shows you around the floor. There’s only a couple more tiny rooms with some desks and files crammed inside and one smallish meeting room, more filing cabinets stacked around the edges.

“Did they cram all the files down here?” You ask.

“Most of them are ours. Although I’ve seen people from the upper floors come to get a file now and again so you may be right.”

There’s also a tiny kitchen several steps from the bathrooms that houses a small microwave and a refrigerator, a coffee pot sitting on the counter next to the sink. Your eyes fall on an electric kettle and you point to it.

“There’s other tea drinkers in here besides me?”

He doesn’t quite meet your eyes when he mumbles. “No, just you.”

You look back at the kettle and realize it’s brand new - he must have bought it specifically for you then.

“Don’t think I won’t give you crap just because you got me a kettle.”

“If you didn’t give me crap, I’d know you were possessed.”

He glances at his watch. “Come on - I’ve got a small meeting planned to introduce you to everyone.”

“Do I get to meet Mulder?”

“Only if you’re a good girl.”

What the fuck did he just say? And why did my thighs clench together when he did?

He leads you back to the conference room and there’s already a couple people in it, milling about. When you both enter, they turn and Marcus introduces you. They shake your hand, excited to meet the Agent from Seattle.

Pleasantries done, Marcus reviews the case. Four paintings stolen from a rich couple's home. No security tripped, the guards saw nothing, hell even the dogs outside didn’t get a scent of anything out of place.

“Was anything else missing?” You ask.

“Not that the owners are aware of. We’ve been over every inch of that house for the last 3 months. Nothing is off or missing.”

“Do you have the photos?”

“Yeah I’ll get them to you.”

The meeting concluded and you followed Marcus back to your joint (ugh) office. He shifts some folders out of his way and logs onto his computer.

“Sent.”

“Thanks.”

“Wow - so she does have manners.”

Glaring at him over the top of your monitor, you open the email from Marcus and start scanning through the photos. Typical rich people's house, everything pristine and clean looking, white marble and furniture with paintings placed in minimalist spots. A couple hours pass before either of you speak.

“This case has been open for 3 months, right?”

“That’s right.”

Squinting at the photo on the screen, you ask “And you thoroughly inspected the entire home?”

“We did, yes.”

“No. Did you inspect it?”

He cocks his head, pushing back in his chair and crossing his arms. “ I did. Why?”

“Did anything feel…off?”

“The house felt cold, but that was more about the decorative style I think-”

“Agent Pike-”

“Ok, ok. Nothing stood out to me but I have been feeling like it’s something right in front of us. I mean it’s obvious it was an inside job but..”

“Do you think they’d let me in to look for myself?”

“Think you can solve this case before me?”

“It’s not about that, Agent Pike. It’s about getting answers.”

He studies your face for a moment. “I’ll give them a call.”

—----

A week later, you’re carefully walking around the house, looking at quite literally everything as the owners were practically breathing down your neck, reminding you that agents had already done this and where was that handsome agent at? Could he come back?

Fighting back the desire to roll your eyes, you turn back to them and reply. “Agent Pike will be here shortly.”

“He’s so handsome, don’t you think?” One of them asks.

“Yeah, sure. He’s great.”

“Who’s great?” Marcus had come walking up at that exact moment of course.

“Not you.”

The owners exchanged smirks, looking from you to Marcus before bombarding him with the same questions they had been asking you. You continue your walk around the home, admiring the paintings that were still up, taking note of which ones they were. Something felt off to you about them but you couldn’t quite place it. Marcus comes up behind you and speaks into your ear.

“That wife has it in for me, I swear.”

“If you’d let her, she’d probably fuck you on the table right in front of her husband.”

“Yeah well I’m not into that.”

“What, fucking on tables?”

“Fucking married women unless it’s my own wife. I have no problems fucking on tables though.”

That feeling from before comes back and heat rushes between your thighs and your brain presents an image to you, unwanted, of Marcus pushing you over the table and having his way with you.

“Sunshine?”

“Hhmm? Oh sorry. Was just thinking..about the case.”

“Riiiiight.”

—----

The next several weeks pass and you spend your days in front of your computer screen, studying the photos of the house, the blueprints, the testimonies from everyone inside. Marcus was trying to annoy you, you were convinced of it. Smirking and strutting around, chewing loudly and calling you Sunshine when you told him to shut it. But even he was getting irritated around the edges with this case. You could see he was getting frustrated at not cracking the case.

One day, you slam your hand down on your desk.

“Ugh! I feel like I’m going cross-eyed staring at this thing!”

Marcus looks at you and hesitates a moment before he speaks.

“Come on. Break time.”

“Marcus, we can’t. We have to work-”

“We’re no good if we lose focus. Even Miss Perfect Agent Sunshine.”

“God, I’d thought I’d gotten away from you and your perky attitude.”

“And I thought I’d never have to see your sunny face again but, here we are. Now follow me.”

Scoffing, you stand and stretch, following Marcus down the hall and through another 2 sets of locked doors. When he opens the last one, you audibly gasp. Inside this room are several small rows of paintings, some stored and some on easels, a couple of people touching them up.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Marcus.”

“Had to make sure you earned it.”

You walk around and look at each one, your eyes growing wider as you recognize each one.

“This..ok this is pretty cool.”

“Don’t you have something like this in Seattle?”

You shake your head. “No. That’s in a whole separate building. We don’t see the paintings after they literally leave our hands.”

“Oh. That..sucks.”

You move around the back of the room, looking at some of the smaller paintings. One of them at the back, nearly buried behind the others catches your eye. Or rather, the corner of the painting does. You dig it out and stare down at it, your jaw dropping open.

“Marcus.”

Marcus rushes over and looks at you. “What’s up?”

“It’s a fake. They’re all fakes.”

“No, these are all very real. They’re vetted-”

You shake your head. “No. The ones in the home. They’re all fake. That’s what was off about them.”

Marcus’s eyes go wide. “Shit. Come on. Leave that here.”

You move the painting back where it was and quickly follow Marcus out of the room, practically running to your office. Pulling up the photos of the house, you click through them until you find it.

“There it is. It’s small and was in a back hallway.”

“Well fuck me. There it is.” Marcus places a hand on your desk and the other on the back of your chair and leans in to stare at the screen. “But do you think they know?”

“They..they might not. Look,” you shift in your seat a little as you click through to another painting. “This one here I must have stared at for half an hour. Something felt off. I bet it’s fake too.”

“Now the real question is - are they in on it or is someone stealing their paintings and replacing them with replicas?”

“I don’t know, but I bet you could get it out of the wife.”

“I already told you, fucking married women is not my thing. Unless it’s my own wife.”

“Did you find someone to marry you?” You ask, surprise in your tone.

Marcus looks down before standing up straight. “I thought I did. But I came to D.C. alone if that makes you happy.”

“Why would that make me happy?”

“I don’t know. You seem content with making my life miserable.”

You scoff. “Me? Make your life miserable? I think you’ll find it’s the other way around.”

Marcus meets your eyes, a quiet fire smoldering in them. “Ever since the academy, you’ve been on my ass-”

“I’ve been on your ass? Everywhere I turned there was the golden child. You could do no wrong.”

“I’m a damn good agent.”

“Yes, you are. But do you realize how privileged your training was?”

“I didn’t get special treatment. I took all the same tests as you.”

“Yes, Marcus. But our teacher was extremely sexist. Why do you think I never passed you despite performing at at least the same level as you? Why I had to work extra hard to get the things that were basically handed to you?”

“Hey! I had to work my ass off to get those grades. I stayed up late, I studied, I worked out, I practiced. All the same things you did.”

“Yes. And you’re a great agent, Marcus. But look back - every time you outdid me in something, was it because you were truly better or because you’re a man?”

“I-”

“And that first day, when I asked you about that scenario, and why I got a lower grade when we had nearly the exact same reasoning and answer? You just told me “Be faster next time.” I was hoping to find an ally, someone I could mentally spare with and collaborate with, but all you told me then was that you’re an asshole, Marcus Pike. You made my time at the academy so much harder because I was competing against the stigma of being a woman and you didn’t see that and just thought you were better than me. Maybe that’s why that woman didn’t marry you.”

The words left your mouth and you regretted them instantly. You may give him shit but that was a low blow.

“Marcus, I-”

“Forget it. I’ve gotta go make a call.”

It’s like all expression left him, his eyes are dead to you, despite a hint of hurt playing behind the facade. That little smile at the corner of his lips that used to drive you nuts was missing, and you just realized how much you needed that smile. But before you can say anything, he pushes past you and disappears down the hall and through the doors.

–

He returns a short bit later, the same non expression on his face as he enters the tiny office.

“I’ve set up a meeting with the owners. I need you to accompany me there as you were the agent who noticed the copy.”

“Of course. Marcus I-”

“Agent Pike.”

That was like a punch to your stomach. You knew you had crossed a line and you felt terrible about it.

“A-Agent Pike. I want to say I’m so-”

“We leave in 2 hours. I’ll meet you out front with the car.”

And with that, he leaves you alone in the office. You stayed there for about an hour, hoping he would return so you could barricade the door and make him listen to your apology, but he never came back. You get up to go to the kitchen, feeling a pang of guilt when you turn on the kettle.

“Hey Agent Sunshine! I hear you might have cracked this case!” One of the other agents had walked in, coffee mug in hand.

“Yeah, maybe? Agent Pike and I just need to check a few things first.”

“I hope you figured it out. We’ve been stumped for months. I’m glad Agent Pike requested you-”

“Wait. He requested me?”

“Yeah. Said you were the best agent in the academy. Really knew your art and that you worked in Seattle. He went on and on about how you really challenged him to try harder in the academy. That he probably owed you a lot of credit for the agent he is now.”

The kettle clicks off and you turn to pour the hot water in your mug.

“How much is he paying you to say that?”

The agent laughs. “Yeah he mentioned you both gave the other shit. Honestly, he probably thought you were flirting. Poor guy.” The agent sips from their mug. “You know why he’s here, right? In D.C.?”

“Uh no. I never thought to ask.”

“Well. He was dating this other agent back in Sacramento and she was basically using him to make this other guy jealous. She agreed to move to D.C. when he got this promotion and then just ditched him at the last minute.”

“Oh. How terrible.”

“Yeah. He was pretty torn up about it. You know, I don’t think he’s dated since.”

You nod, turning back to take the tea bag out of your mug when you realize you hadn’t put a bag in to begin with.

–

You meet Marcus out front and quietly get in the passenger seat. Once you buckle your seatbelt, he drives, following the GPS to the client’s house. About 5 minutes of total silence passes before you break.

“Marcus, I-”

“Agent. Pike.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine. You’ve said what you wanted to say. Now let’s get this case solved so you can get out of my office.”

You turn your head away from him, looking out the window as guilt swallows you up on the inside. You may have butted heads with him, but that didn’t mean he deserved such a low blow.

Marcus pulls up to the gate and is buzzed in, pulling up out front and parking. Quietly, you move to get out of the car but Marcus puts a hand out. You look up at him, another apology poised on your lips when he speaks.

“We don’t know the situation in there. If something feels wrong, make something up and tell me it reminds you of that case in Tahiti. I’ll do the same to you. Otherwise, follow my lead.”

There was no room for a question. “Yes, sir.”

Getting out of the car, Marcus takes the lead and knocks on the door. The wife answers, smile spreading rapidly across her face as she squeezes his arm.

“Agent Pike! We were so glad to hear from you!”

Managing to not roll your eyes, you follow Marcus inside, the wife waving at you and telling you to take a look around. Marcus stays with the wife for a bit, distracting her while you take the time to look at the original paintings on your tablet to compare to the ones before you on the wall.

After about 30 minutes, you see it - in the very bottom corner, there’s a tiny blue smudge on the painting in front of you that is definitely not on the original. The wife laughs extra loud at something Marcus must have said, so you move on to the next painting. After about 15 minutes, you spot a difference there too. You would need hours if not days to compare all of them, but if these were fakes, as was the one by the bathroom, it may be safe to assume they all are.

“Agent Pike? Could I borrow you for a moment?”

Marcus excuses himself and comes up next to you. “What’s up?”

“Having fun in there?”

“It’s for the case. I was distracting her for you.”

“Mmm. Anyway, these-” you point on your tablet at the three paintings “-remind me of that case in Tahiti.”

“Is it safe to assume the rest of the case would be the same?”

“I would say so, but I’d need time to confirm.”

“Nice work, Agent.”

No Sunshine. Fuck.

He spins on his heel and heads back to the living room where the wife was perched on the couch waiting for him. You followed him in and stood there a little awkwardly, feeling almost like a third wheel.

The husband comes in and sits near you, turning to strike up a conversation with you. It’s clear he’s trying to flirt but isn’t as good at it as his wife.

“So..were you always into art, agent?” The husband addresses you as he takes a sip from his drink.

“Yeah. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up but the art galleries near us were always free or donation based so we went a lot. My dad also used to paint, but just for himself.”

You could feel Marcus stare at you from the corner of his eye but remained engaged in conversation with the wife.

“You must be very good at spotting things in paintings, then.”

“I think that’s subjective depending on who’s looking at it.”

He smiles at you, his drink making him grow bold (or maybe it was his confidence), but he leans forward and places a hand on your exposed knee, having worn a pencil skirt to work today. You glance down at his hand before he speaks.

“You’re a very smart woman, you know.”

“Thank you.” You place your hand on top of his, squeezing it to remove it from your leg. But he misinterprets your move and turns his hand up to take yours.

“I’d like to show you my favorite one.” He gently pulls at your hand and you glance over at Marcus, whose jaw is set in a line, his entire body tense, despite feigning interest to whatever the wife was saying. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head but before you could make an excuse, the husband pulled you toward the hallway.

“It’s just through here.”

He pulls you down the hall and into his office, over to the opposite wall with a large painting on display. He stands next to you but doesn’t let go of your hand, speaking nearly into your ear with a low voice, the smell of a cigar wafting off his breath.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” you reply, afraid to open your mouth or you might gag.

“There’s something not quite right about it.” He’s speaking nearly directly into your ear now.

“Oh?”

“Come now, Agent. You’re a beautiful, smart woman.” His voice lowers to a loud whisper. “I know you know they’re fake.”

You can’t reach for your gun as he has a hold of your hand, his grip tightening as he puts a hand to the back of your head and hits it against the painting in one swift movement. Falling, you see stars as you hit the ground, momentarily stunned as you reach for your forehead and feel wetness. Pulling it away, you see blood and hear a low laugh from the husband.

“Marcu-AAHH!” The husband yanks your hair and pulls you upright.

“Now now. None of that.”

You hear a gun fire in the living room and your heart stops. Not Marcus. Please, not him.

“We can’t have you messing up our operation. Someone cheated us and we thought we could play the FBI, using you to get the location of our missing paintings. Never thought there would be such an expert amongst you. It’s a shame to kill you, really. We could use you in our line of work.”

“Fuck you,” you manage to spit out, tasting blood as it trickles down from your forehead.

He laughs and throws you forward, your hands hitting the ground but slipping from sweat and blood. Before you can move, he grabs your legs and flips you around.

“I want to see the life leave your eyes.” He raises your own gun to you, having taken it when you hit the wall.

A shot fires and you close your eyes.

“Sunshine? Sunshine!”

It’s Marcus’s voice and he’s close. You open your eyes and find his, worry etched into every feature of his face.

“Am I..dead?” you ask and he smiles.

“No. I got them.”

You start to lift your head to see, but he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Let me take a look at your head.”

“You need to call this in.”

“First, I’m looking.”

You nod and lay down, Marcus’s fingers running across your skin and hairline. He takes off his shirt, leaving him in just an undershirt and you find yourself hoping he doesn’t notice the heat in your cheeks. He dabs away most of the blood after wetting the shirt from the sink in the bathroom. He studies the scrape and makes his prognosis.

“You’ll live. It won’t need stitches even. Follow my finger.” He moves his finger back and forth and you follow it with ease. “Not even a concussion. Although you’ll need to be checked out I think.”

“Thank you, Mar-Agent Pike.”

Before he can reply, agents storm the room - backup had arrived. Medics take you outside and Marcus follows, watching with concern as they clean up your head and place a small bandage on it. Marcus was right - no stitches and no concussion, although a slight headache warranted some pain killers.

After you give your reports, you head back to the office. Marcus argued with you at first, insisting you needed to go home and rest, but you had some things to take care of first. He follows you in and closes the door behind him. Before he can move to his desk, you turn to him and put a hand out to stop him.

“Wait. Mar-Agent Pike.”

He studies your face as you continue.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said..what I said. It was unprofessional, uncalled for, and just mean.”

“It’s ok-”

“No, it isn’t. It’s also not true. While what I said was true, you did annoy the shit out of me at the academy, you…you’re a nice guy, Marcus. I can see how you genuinely care about your coworkers and your job. And, well to be blunt, fuck that other chick. She doesn’t deserve you.”

He looks into your eyes. “Thank you, Sunshine. I-that means a lot.”

You nod and remove your hand, turning back to your desk. Marcus watches as you start to gather up your personal items.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing.”

“Why?”

“Well, the case is over. And last I heard from you, you wanted me out of your office.” You open drawers pulling out things to stuff into your oversized bag.

“You don’t have to go.”

“I do. The case is done.��

“You could..stay here?”

You scoff. “What, in D.C.?”

“With me.”

You turn and see the seriousness in his face. His eyes, normally a soft brown are blown wide, nearly black with…lust? Before you have time to question it, his eyes shift down to your lips and back up.

Fuck it. You can always leave if you’re wrong.

You surge forward, gripping handfuls of his shirt and pulling him to you, connecting your lips with his. To your surprise, his hand flies up to the back of your head and cradles it, the other winding around your lower back. His tongue coaxes your mouth open as he slides in, running his tongue over your bottom teeth. You moan and he moans back, feeling it vibrate between you.

Breaking apart, you look up at him, both of you breathing heavy as he pulls you back to him, both hands on your hips and pushing you back into your desk. One hand still cradling your back, his other finds the buttons on your shirt but he hesitates.

“Is this ok?”

“Fuck, yes Marcus, please," you pant out.

He smiles and asks you to brace yourself as he shows immense restraint in opening each button without simply ripping the shirt off. Once exposed, he leans forward and kisses the tops of your breasts, pulling one out of your black lace bra to suck on the nipple. Your fingers wind into his hair and you moan. He gives the same treatment to the other, loving how you move under him. He lets go with a plop and slides his hands down to your thighs. They find the hem of your skirt and stop.

“Is this ok?”

“Yes,” you pant out again.

His hands slowly slide up your thighs, pushing your legs apart as he goes, causing your skirt to ride up. When he sees your underwear, he stops.

“Black lace?”

“What, a girl can’t look nice for herself?”

His fingers stop just outside your underwear line and you huff.

“Is this ok?”

“Marcus, look at me.”

He’s on his knees between your spread legs, staring up at you with the biggest, doe eyes you’d ever seen on the man. You nearly forgot what you wanted to say.

“You have my consent to do whatever the fuck you want to do to me.”

He growls as his hands slide up further and pull down the top of your underwear, sliding them down and off your legs. Tossing them on the desk, he pushes your skirt up further and jams his shoulders between your legs, staring down at your dripping cunt.

“Never thought I’d see this side of you, Sunshine.”

Any reply you had turned into a cry as Marcus used his tongue on you, his nose leading the way as he slides through your folds and taps at your clit. A few moments pass before you feel his fingers join in, gathering up your rapidly growing arousal and circling your entrance. He pushes in one finger slowly and you moan out his name, your hand gripping the back of his head.

“Marcus,”

“Mmm?” he responds and you feel the vibrations throughout your pussy, fanning out to stimulate what feels like your entire body. He pushes another finger inside and starts to scissor them, listening to your pants of his name.

“Marcus I’m gonna…ugh!” Your head flies back as you come, covering his hand with you as your body lights up, your hands gripping the desk as you ride your orgasm. Once you come down, he pulls his fingers from you and you whine at the loss, the heat in your belly starting to grow again at the sight of him on his knees in front of you, your arousal glistening on his chin and face.

“Fuck you tasted exactly like Sunshine.”

“Marcus you…you…fuck.”

He chuckles and stands up between your spread legs, leaning over you to give you a kiss.

“That’s nothing, Sunshine.”

You hear the sound of a buckle being undone as he shifts his pants down. You feel the tip of him at your entrance and fuck is he thick, a drop of precum already dripping out. His voice lowers as he speaks.

“I’ve wanted to bend you over this desk for so long, but now I want to watch your face when I fuck you.”

He pushes in and your mouth drops open, a whimper coming out as you feel the burn of him stretching you. And fuck does it feel amazing.

“Oh shit, Sunshine. You feel..so fucking tight, fuck.” He bottoms out and rests his forehead on yours for a moment, letting you both catch your breath.

“Marcus?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t hold back. I won’t break.”

“Fuck!”

He does just that, pulling out to slam back into you as your desks rattle together, pens and papers rolling off as he thrusts. One of your hands braces you on the desk but the other moves to grip his arm, shoulder, back, anything that you can reach.

“Oh fuck, Marcus! Yes! Yes! There!” He had hit a spot inside you that you’d never felt before, at the very back of you. He responds immediately to your words and instead of pulling out, he stays in and deep thrusts, hitting that spot repeatedly, and you cry out his name with each thrust. Without warning, you come, crying out and feeling yourself drench him and leak out onto your skirt. Marcus chuckles as he continues to hit that spot, feeling you tremble under him, watching your face contort in pleasure as you cry out his name.

“That’s it. Fucking soak me, Sunshine.”

Once you come down, he picks his speed back up, ramming back into you several more times before his hips sputter. You choke out a strained “Inside” before he cries your name, spurting inside you as he thrusts haphazardly. He rests his head to your chest as you both breathe heavily for a few moments. He groans, standing up and pulling out as he looks around for something to clean you up with. Finding a roll of paper towels, he wets them with a water bottle and gently dabs at you, smirking as your muscles twitch with sensitivity. Once finished, he finishes adjusting his pants before he extends a hand to you and helps you stand.

“Marcus?”

“Yes, Sunshine?”

“I don’t want to stay in D.C.”

His face drops as he steps back. “Are you…serious?”

“I am. I don’t want to stay in D.C. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I love you, Marcus. I want to stay with you.”

His eyes grow wide as he starts to smile. “Would falling in love with me be so terrible?”

“Ugh, I suppose it would be tolerable. But wherever you go, I’m there. As long as you’ll have me?”

He pulls you to him, planting a loving kiss to your lips. “Oh I’ll have you…bent over this desk before we have to debrief.”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @softpedropascal @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21@gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711

All One Shots/Writing Prompts/Ficlets:

@itspdameronthings @Whovianayesha @anaaaispunk @tanzthompson @thatpinkshirt @petersunderoos96 @mswarriorbabe80 @hotchlover

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter here! You can also send me an ask to be added to/removed from the taglist.

permanent taglist; @pervhotch @spenxerslut @donald4spiderman @measure-in-pain @thatonezesty13 (check your visibility settings!) @jswessie187 @kuolonsyoja @idonotexiste

[set-phasers-to-whump]

thank you for the tag!! i love love love things like this <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

262 (soon to be 263, and so on til the end of the month lol)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

404,314. not bad!!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

atm, mostly tmfu (just recently posted my 50th fic without even realizing it oops) but also karppi, 911, and babylon berlin, with assorted others such as poi in there from time to time.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

at fault (lucifer) (this fic is my enemy...it's so close to not being the top in this category anymore yet it persists!), you're not losing me (911), a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day (911), safe (911), and i just thought it didn't rain in california (911). do we see a pattern...

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes, always!! it still blows my mind that people enjoy my writing enough to tell me about it, so obviously i'm going to respond! i adore getting comments and i appreciate every one i receive <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

maybe i don't wanna reach out in the dead of night and find no one to hold me ? it's a prodigal son fic with a not super hopeful ending, but idk for sure if this is the angstiest ending. i don't do a ton of angsty endings tbh

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this one's a toss up since a ton of my fics are ships getting together which is uniformly happy endings, but the first one that i can think of is you are everything (didn't you know?) which is a buddie fic with no whump wow!! (hence why it probably comes to mind - i didn't put anyone thru the wringer first lmao)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i'm really lucky and haven't - perks of writing for (mostly) pretty small fandoms i think.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nah, not for me.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i don't - i like to keep my characters in their usual settings, for the most part.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i think so? i've had people ask, but never got confirmation (they were going to post to other sites)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i haven't...i'm not sure if i could do it tbh

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

bro this is hard...i'm gonna say it's a toss-up of spirk or buddie - they've been with me the longest.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i feel like this is going to sound like a flex but i promise it isn't - i really don't have WIP's, at least not for very long. generally i either finish or abandon things with no desire to complete them lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

maybe action? i know i do a lot of fics with minimal to no dialogue, so i'm guessing i'm decent at conveying things with not much interpersonal talking.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

endings!! the bane of my existence. also i notice sometimes when i reread my stuff that i have a tendency to use the same phrases throughout multiple works which annoys me a bit 😭😭😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i love doing it! though i generally don't do it a lot as i feel like it needs to be used sparingly and well to avoid seeming sort of obnoxious, and i only write what i know. also idk the best way to provide translations - i sometimes don't do them, if it's only a word or two and/or they're commonly known, or else i've done parentheses right after. i don't like when people put the translations down in the notes bc i'm not going all the way down there every time i don't know a word lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

if we're talking first fic ever, i'm pretty sure it was supernatural, but i never posted any of it.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i think maybe fight, flight, or freeze from whumptober last year. it's tmfu (big surprise) and writing it made me Feel Things for sure.

not tagging anyone in particular but if you wanna do this then i tag you!

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @cha-melodius, thank you! <3<3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

439! The plan is posting two more tonight so hopefull that will soon be 441 LOL.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

939,623! Almost a million yay!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment mostly TMFU, I have been getting into writing Banana Fish fic too, and I write for The Witcher, though less frequently than TMFU.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Stretch (Buck/Eddie+Christopher, 911, 3x02 AU)

Everywhere I'm looking now, I'm surrounded by your embrace (Harvey/Mike, Suits, soulmates AU)

I held your hand as you shook in the middle of the night (Geralt/Jaskier, The Witcher, 1x06 fix-it)

Leave it unspoken (Harvey/Mike, Suits, a serial killer on the loose AU looool I had forgotten about this one)

Concession (Geralt/Jaskier, The Witcher, Geralt likes being the little spoon fic)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yesssss, I'm like constantly behind and sometimes I answer months late, but I love answering because 1) comments make me so happy and I want the readers who took the time to let me know they enjoyed the fic to KNOW THAT, 2) talking about fics is SO much fun, I think that discussing things in the comments is the best part of posting.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

LOOOOOOOOOOOL filter for MCD on my Ao3 and take your pick. But I'd go with either Forever is the sweetest con (Napoleon/Illya/Gaby, TMFU) because the story is told backwards, so you start with post-MCD and end pre-MCD, so the ending is happy but. well. the happiness is gone already and you know it LOL, or maybe Meaner than my demons, colder than this home (Napoleon/Illya/Gaby, TMFU), purely because generally speaking when I play with MCD I kill just one of them off and leave the other two to pick up the pieces, but here there's just Napoleon left, so. probably worse than the others LOL.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sooo, I tend to write one-shots, and I HAVE written fluffy fics, but I think I'll go with Something gets lost from a safe distance (Napoleon/Illya, TMFU) because it's part of a three-part series that's all emotional hurt/comfort, and then it ends with fluffy kissing so.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Eh, it has happened, I think it's inevitable if you have been doing this for long enough LOL.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not usually, I did write a TMFU/Supernatural crossover though LOL.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yesss, more than once and it's always extremely flattering that someone would want to go through all that effort <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Right now I feel particularly strongly about the TMFU OT3 but like. I love so many.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I HAVE MULTIPLE LONGFICS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS DAMMIT. I just never want to post longfics unless I have either a first draft for every chapter or at the very least an extremely detailed outline for every chapter, which means that I end up always posting one-shots LOL. Two notable mentions among these longfics are a "Napoleon gets amnesia and bullshits his way through it to avoid telling anyone because he has trust issues" fic and an AU with Illya as a ghost that's a whole angsty mess. help me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Eeeeeeeh the emotions I'd say. Or I HOPE so, since that's pretty much 80% of my writing loooool Also there a lot of lines of dialogue that I come up with that I unironically like.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plots for one, I just tend to write snapshots with no real plot most of the time, and action. I don't LIKE writing it, which means I can never tell if it's boring or if I'm just projecting, and I tend to avoid it. ...also romance/attraction/getting-together. My aroace ass never knows what is believable romance and what are just tv show tropes that are not actually real LOL.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I generally don't do it and keep to the language of the narration, just clarifying "X says in German" if there's a change of language. I write limited third POV, so I just see it as "filtering" everything through the lens of the person that we are seeing the perspective of. If I'm writing from Gaby's POV, for instance (she's German but fluent in English), I feel like TECHNICALLY the narration should be in German, so by writing in English I have already chosen a filter that is not 100% accurate. But that's the filter I'm going with, so English is the language that Gaby is communicating to the reader in, so everything should be communicated through English lens: if she's talking to someone in English, I will just write the lines with no specifications, if she's talking in German I still write in English and write "in German" in the narration, and if someone speaks a language she doesn't know I don't write the actual dialogue because she doesn't understand it, so the reader doesn't get to see it either.

I hope this makes some sort of sense LOOOOOL, I don't really mind any way I've seen this done, but this is how I prefer to go about it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Fallen book series. LOL.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Evil question, go directly to jail, do not collect 100$. This answer will absolutely change every five minutes, but right now I'm particularly feeling Souvenir from a life left behind (Napoleon/Illya, TMFU), just a tiny dissolution of UNCLE fic with Napoleon angsting.

.

Tagging: @imgoingtofreakoutnow @ikeepwatchinghelicopters @thetamehistorian @huggiebird @deducitetemporacarmen @set-phasers-to-whump @cherryjuicegf @geralt-of-vengerberg and anyone else who hasn't done this yet and wants to play <3

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘽𝙐𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎. ҂ 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

back by popular demand! xx thank you for supporting my ramblings! this is kind of filler.. sorry...

pairing: dream x fm!reader

warnings: blood, slight angst, using ccs real names, guns

← previous chapter | ao3 | request |

Clay pushed himself to sit away from the wall, dragging you up with him. “How can you not hear that?” He urged mildly. Fear began to pick at your nerves as you noticed the same reactions filling the shelter. Nick stood up, following some of the other guys who heard whatever they were talking about. Clay slipped from your grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered and you grabbed his hand. His eyes flashed a different color as he looked at you.

A few of the women followed the group, attempting to get their companion’s attention before one of them opened the shelter door.

Your eyes grew wide as the crowd moved from the shelter. It seemed that only the women in the bunker were protesting against leaving the shelter, the men focused on shrugging out of their hold. The night sky was lit up by a foreign object you had yet to lay eyes on, Clay’s figure blocking most of your vision as you were sandwiched between him and Nick. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, your grip tightening around Clay’s arm. 

The crowd spread out in the field near the bunker, gaze cast towards the northern sky where a large planet hovered on the horizon line. You covered your mouth in shock, slinking backward as a few of the women screamed. The bright spots on its surface reflected in the eyes of the men across the field from you. You yanked on Clay’s arm, attempting to pull him back into the safety of the bunker with you. 

He turned, an amazed smile flashing to his face as he looked down at you. It was only then that you noticed the crimson lines of blood draining from his ears. “Can you hear that?” He asked, voice raspy and verklempt. You furrowed your brows, your chest rising and falling unevenly as your mind raced to figure out what was happening. Clay’s soft hair moved in the night breeze, his features looking sharper as the light from the planet cast shadows across his face. 

His face dropped suddenly, his brows knitting together as his breathing seemed to slow. You reached out to touch his face but instead, his eyes rolled and he collapsed into your arms. Nick dropped to his knees beside you as well, forcing you to reach an arm out so he didn’t face plant in the dirt under your feet. You swore under your breath as Clay’s weight forced you into a sitting position. As you held him to your chest, keeping a tight grip on Nick’s t-shirt, you hiccuped, hot tears beginning to stream down your face. 

You sat, waiting for them to wake up, for what felt like hours. Various women were wailing, while others smoked stale cigarettes and paced, theorizing what the planet could be doing. You drug your fingers through Clay’s hair, your other hand cramping from its hold on Nick’s shirt. You’d pulled him closer to settle his head on your leg beside Clay. You felt like a mother hen guarding her chicks against the winter. 

You hated it. 

One woman stood with her hands on her lower back, staring up at the planet. Every few minutes, she held her palm out to it, spreading her fingers out wide before biting her cheek and continuing to stare. You inhaled and attempted to soothe yourself by holding the boys closer to you. “They’ll wake up,” she said, her voice breaking into a quietness you hadn’t realized had settled over the field. You looked up at her, rubbing your cheek on your sleeve to rid yourself of salty tear tracks. “The big one, he still has eye movement.” You looked down at Clay, noticing her fact. He looked as if he were dreaming up the plot of a new Lord of the Rings book. 

You sighed in relief, pressing your cheek against his forehead as your hand loosened on Nick, fingers brushing his collarbone softly. It was then that you realized how warm he was. Your brain switched into panic mode as you touched his forehead, his skin burning beneath your hand. You pulled his hat off his head and set about pulling his hoodie off. 

The woman joined you at your side. “He has a fever. We have to-” you bit your lip as more tears threatened to spill. You were so tired of crying, but for some reason, you couldn’t help it. Especially now, as the lives of the man you loved and a dear friend were literally in your hands. “We have to get it down,” you managed, fingers yanking at the material. “He could die.” 

The woman settled a hand on your shoulder, slowing your movements. She removed Nick’s hoodie, balling it up and pushing it beneath his head. “He’s going to be okay. Obviously, his body’s fighting something off,” she assured. “You should move around a bit. So your legs don’t go completely numb.” 

You shook your head, looking back toward the two. “No, I can’t leave them,” you answered softly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her nod in understanding. “What were you doing over there?” You asked, nodding to where she was previously standing. 

She moved to sit cross-legged, turning her head to look back up at the planet. “I was seeing if it was moving,” she responded. “I swear I’ve seen it before. Like in a book or something.” You nodded at her words slightly. “I think it’s Callisto, one of Jupiter’s moons.” 

You dragged your sleeve across Clay’s cheek, wiping away the dried blood. “Callisto…” you repeated, attempting to jog your memory if you’d heard of it before. “So NASA was wrong, huh?” You joked, attempting to be light-hearted, but your voice reflected a dark sadness from the depths of your chest instead. 

She shrugged with a small grin on her face. “Unless it wiped us out completely as this is your hell for eternity.” You snapped your eyes to her, making her laugh. “I’m joking. Unless this is my hell,” she joshed. “It depends on what you believe is real or not, I guess.” 

You shut your eyes, a shaky breath rippling through you. “Please stop talking.” 

Before she could say something else, Clay’s eyes snapped open. He muttered your name almost as if he didn’t believe it was you. He turned his head towards where Nick was laying. “Nick?” His voice cracked slightly as he sat up. He looked at you as if asking what was happening before he turned to peer up at the planet again, his eyes shifting to a more brilliant green as if it evoked something within him. You watched his irises shift towards a glowing color before he looked at you again. 

Nick stirred in your arms before shivering. You rested your hand against his forehead once again, the heat of his body becoming more alarming. Clay was on his feet, looking quickly around the field as various people woke up, startled just as he was. You gently moved from beneath Nick, letting his head rest on his jacket as you moved to comfort Clay. He pulled you into his arms and you could hear his heart beat against his rib cage. Everything was beginning to happen so quickly as you stood on your toes to peer over Clay’s shoulder, watching as various men began to act strangely. 

You heard Nick mumble Clay’s name, causing you to break away from him to look behind you. As you did so, Nick grabbed your arm gently, his hand searing the flesh of your forearm. You let out a muted scream, yanking your hand from his as his worried eyes burned a bright orange.

THREE YEARS LATER

You tied your hair back, staring back at your reflection in the dirty mirror. It was the Callisto Anniversary, therefore you couldn’t help but think of what you used to look like; practically a child compared to who you were now. You almost glared at the scars on your arms from those nights when you all thought the world was ending. You wet your lips, tugging on your jacket and propping open the door of your bedroom before carrying yourself down the long hallway. Various people greeted you from their rooms as you passed by their opened doors. 

As you trudged down the various flights of stairs, you silently repeated the words of the cultists' propaganda posters covering the walls in the stairwell. You passed them every day; hating them more each time you saw them. You’d only let them hang the posters after they threatened to burn down the hotel, thus eliminating yours and several hundreds of other people’s homes and businesses. 

After the planet, which you now knew for sure was the moon Callisto, settled into the Earth’s night sky, reports of enlightened men popped up everywhere. The male population seemed to be a favorite of Callisto’s as most of them possessed some kind of power, whether useless or beneficial. Conspiracy theorists believed it was because of the creatures in the water beneath its surface attempting to create a new generation of Poseidon's sons. With the moon ruining Earth’s power supply, it was difficult to experiment and prove various theories. 

It’s the radiation, some would say. 

It’s a government conspiracy. 

It’s an alien experiment. 

You’d heard it all. The only thing you were certain of was what Eden told you, the woman you’d met when Callisto appeared. She was convinced of the Poseidon theory; though rather scornfully. “One more thing to strengthen male privilege...” She often accounted. She’d worked as a biology professor before the day of reckoning, therefore she could tell you the chicken came before the egg and you’d believe her. She explained the phenomenon of Callisto as a result of the ocean tides and gravitational pull, yet couldn’t figure out how Callisto could travel 4.3 AUs and why Earth would be its landing place. 

Your feet thumped against the cracked linoleum of the hotel lobby, the various dividers failing to provide sound barriers between the various groups of engineers and their counterparts as they worked and chattered. After finding the hotel, you’d given most of its space to Eden and her team as well as the brutes working for you. 

You grabbed an apple from one of the food stations before following the sound of Eden’s voice as she argued with someone about the patterns of Callisto in the sky. A radio lulled from the table in the middle of her chaos. She tugged her dull blonde/gray hair back into a ponytail before massaging her aging temples with two fingers. 

The front doors opened, ringing the small bell attached to one of the handles and drawing your attention. The group of men shrugged out of their wet jackets or shook out the rain out of their hair. You scanned the group from Clay’s white ski mask, an intimidating feature that signified who he was. Just as you had given up, he pushed through the crowd, pushing his mask on top of his head. You waved at him and he brightened before walking towards you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, the smell of the Earth hanging against his damp clothing. 

“I saw something while I was out, and I’ve had a rough time keeping it in my head,” he stated with a slight chuckle, mindlessly asking you to follow him to one of the tables with a few workers. You watched him silently as he fished into the barrels of spare gun parts before throwing what he’d found on the table. The people around you paused what they were doing. Clay’s eyes began to glow, the green almost iridescent as the pieces began to morph together before shaping a new kind of gun. 

That’s really what your group was known for: arms manufacturing and dealing. 

Clay built them and you had the connections to sell them. On paper, it was simple. 

Clay held the gun in his hand, turning it over and looking down at you for praise. You furrowed your blows slightly. “Does it work?” You asked, making him shrug and bump a clip into it before firing it at one of the walls. 

You sighed. “How many times do we have to talk about shooting inside?” He giggled sheepishly at your words. You examined the gun in his large hand, trying to place where you had seen it before. It was a souped-up version of whatever you had previously seen. 

“Looks like a cop gun to me, Dream,” a familiar voice stated, making Clay chuckle proudly before looking up to see Nick with his arms crossed. Clay quickly tucked it into the back of his belt and Nick rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I meant to radio in on my way but I got caught in the storm.” 

You swatted off his apology and hugged him. “It’s good to see you, Sapnap,” Clay lightened. The boys had begun using their radio call names as if they got them from their mothers. “Happy Callisto Day,” Clay charmed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as Nick picked up a gun piece. 

Nick’s eyes flashed to the burn scar on your wrist from him. The fever he had was due to his power. Clay always teases him with nicknames like Prince Zuko and Warren Peace for it. “Have you guys seen Karl? I have a friend that figured out how to make something similar to nail polish.” 

You snorted. “He should be hovering around Eden,” you answered, gesturing to the opposite corner of the lobby space. 

After Nick parted, Clay turned back to you. “I think I found a way to get supplies into the East Sector…” he mumbled, just audible enough for you to hear. You perked an eyebrow at him. The East Sector had been closed off to any kind of weaponry, but that didn’t mean the demand wasn’t high. It was a farming community outside of the city where most of the religious zealots lived and based the Cult of Callisto. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “How dangerous is this  way  you’ve found?” 

Clay smirked slightly. “They call him Techno. He’s a chlorokinetic. Apparently, he kills people and turns them into plant food too,” he stated, wiggling his eyebrows. “Plus, he’s an enemy of Quackity’s group.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the table behind him. 

“So, pretty dangerous, then?” You simplified. 

He smiled slightly. “In a fun way…” 

[sunjaesol]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

[skygayzer]

OC questions for Ida Kowalski my Yakuza OC!

Questions from this post!

(A heads up there is a lot of unexplained lore but just bare with me)

Also was inspired by @majimemegoro !

1. What was the last time they pulled an all-nighter, if ever?

Ida can be a bit of a heavy sleeper, so she hardly ever pulls an all-nighter unless she is told otherwise.

2. What’s the weirdest place they’ve ever slept?

On one occasion back in Poland, Joanna caught Ida sleeping bent over on a fence. Another time she was found arms crossed sitting on a chair with her back hunched over with her head between her legs.

And she wonders why she has back problems..

3. If they were living now, what type of face mask would they wear — ie, plain black, patterned, with words, etc?

She would either have a regular blue plain one or one with a photo realistic mouth on it.

4. As a young kid, were they particularly attached to any comfort items, like stuffed animals or a blanket?

She used to have a 'good luck' coin, but a boy in her class took it and threw it into a well.

5. What do they think of abstract art?

Can AND WILL stare for hours, she gets sucked in easily. Then afterwards will say "eh, it's cool I guess."

6. When going out in cold weather (say under 0C/32F), what kinda outfit do they wear?

She is not a fan of the cold so probably a flight jacket with a couple layers of shirts under, regular jeans with high socks and combat boots. (She I'd always wearing combat boots tho lol)

7. Are they afraid of heights?

No. While she does start to feel a little dizzy if she looks directly down from a super tall building.

8. Are they a fast/slow/average reader?

She is a slow reader, but only because she has a harder time processing things sometimes.

9. Are there any foods that they really fucking hate?

Radishes.

10. On a scale of 1-10, how bothered are they by the sight of blood?

5 out of 10 I think, depends on how much or what caused it.

11. When’s the last time they laughed so hard they cried, if ever?

This is actually quite often she does this, mostly at others expense. Like when she tried helping Shimano shave his head and it was so patchy at first and he was super pissed.

12. Do they prefer baths or showers?

Showers. She prefers to be quick, especially since she was used to using the showers at her old jobs and had to be in and out before the other workers got there.

13. What’s a reoccurring dream/nightmare that they have, if any?

She dreams A LOT, But usually it's just a jumbled mess. However, she always dreams of Poland, and her old house with the roof having patches of moss. She dreams about her old school and the cows in the fields.

However after her involvement with the Tojo-clan, nightmares become more frequent. Death is a very common theme in them, whether it's her friends, family, or her own death.

14. When they visit museums, do they go slowly, reading everything, or go through quickly?

She loves museums, she likes learning about history and other cultures but her favorite subject of all is art. Can sit for hours studying a piece. Enjoys colorful landscapes like Claude Monet's work.

15. Do they ever cry at movies/books/shows?

YES. She always cries while watching the naked island, despite that she considers it her favorite Japanese film.

16. Have they ever kept a journal?

Yes, but she doesn't write in it anymore. She just keeps it for memories.

17. Are they good at jigsaw puzzles? Do they enjoy them?

She is okay with them, but it takes too long for her to do it by herself. Only likes doing it with her little sister, or her grandma.

18. What’s the most physically uncomfortable situation they’ve ever been in?

When she is held hostage by the Jingweon, they try to get information out of her however she fights her way out. Probably the most painful experience.

19. What do they do when they’ve got a song stuck in their head?

Openly hums it or sings it.. VERY LOUDLY.

20. Favourite type of baked goods? Are they good at baking?

Polish donuts!

21. Are they a good kisser?

When you have as many girlfriends as she had, you certainly gain experience heheh. So yes, very!

22. How much do they follow the news? Has this always been the case, or has it changed over time?

She has always followed the news for both Poland. The reason she often checks the Poland news is due to the fact she eventually plans on moving back when the economy gets better.

23. Favourite ice cream flavour?

Strawberry (HAS TO HAVE STRAWBERRY CHUNKS IN IT AS WELL!!!)

24. Do they ever cry because something is too cute?

Nahh... until a baby holds her finger or a puppy licks her hand then she is on the VERGE of tears.

25. Do they have any superstitions?

Being Jewish, she has a lot of superstitions that have been passed down from her mother and grandmother. Like never leaving a book open or to avoid stepping over someone! She even knocks on wood despite it not really being a Jewish superstition.

26. How consistent/regular is their sleep cycle?

It WOULD be consistent if she didn't sleep so damn much, it's a personality trait at this point.

27. If they were to play D&D, what race/class would they pick?

Probably a human warrior, very much based off herself.

28. Do they sing in the shower?

Yup.

29. Can they play an instrument? Which one?

Nope. The most she ever did was playfully mash the keys on a piano at a club once. She was removed.

30. Can they ride a bike?

NOPE! never learned due to never being able to afford a bike. When she finally bought one for Joanna, who understood how to use it rather quickly, it was Joanna who tried to teach her to ride a bike instead.

31. Favourite meal of the day?

Breakfast, if she doesn't have it she will be cranky the whole day.

32. What do they smell like?

Usually smells like those flower bouquets you buy, it's her perfume.

33. Do they like to doodle?

No, she isn't too skilled in drawing and never really bothered trying.

34. What’s one of their guilty pleasures?

She reads trashy romance novels! Hohoohohoo!

35. Do people usually notice their eye colour?

Nope! They r a regular brown (brown eyes rule ✊)

36. What are their lying “tells”? Are they aware of these tells?

She does this thing where she will run and play with her hands, rubbing her thumb across her knuckles, rubbing her hands together, ect.

37. A friend whips out a camera unexpectedly and goes “say cheese!” — what pose do they strike?

She will either do a big smile or make a funny face.

38. What would be the worst quality that someone could attribute to them, in their own mind? As in, what would they think is the worst thing someone could think about them — that they’re selfish, lazy, violent, cowardly, stupid, etc.?

That she has no value.

39. How do they mark their place in a book?

Uses a random ribbon or thread.

40. Big spoon or little spoon?

Typically a big spoon but really loves to be a little spoon!

41. How much time/thought do they put into their outfit on an average day?

At most 20 minutes, she usually gets ready rather quickly and doesn't really care about how she looks, but Joanna will usually help her pick out an outfit if she can.

42. What’s the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever spent money on?

Colorful ribbons, she doesn't really use them but she just liked having something pretty to swing around hehe.

43. What’s a funny story that a stranger has about them?

(Idk yet but I am thinking of sub stories for her that are wacky and fun!)

44. What do they consider the kindest thing someone has ever done for them?

When a certain hitman agrees to take her body back to her family. (No I will not explain any further, if you know you know. )

45. What’s the cruelest thing they’ve done that they don’t regret?

Beating up and almost killing, a family patriarch for hitting his wife (who Ida is also in love with).

46. What’s their least favourite chore?

Washing dishes, IT'S SO BORING!!

47. The person they care about most/their best friend asks them to hide a dead body. How willing are they to help, no questions asked?

Depends on the person. If it was her sister, or someone she really trusts and cares for she would help them, of course asking questions. But anyone else, she would simply tell them to not involve her.

48. What’s the favourite way to eat potatoes?

Masher potatoes and gravy!!!!

49. If they were a plant, what would they be?

A common poppy.

50. If they had to give an impromptu hour-long lecture on any subject, what would they talk about?

Poland, especially to someone who isn't from Poland. She misses her home despite the situation her family went through there. She misses everything from the smell to the land to the old houses. She can go on for hours about how she used to go to a lake along with other kids and how they ended up having to run home with leeches in them, or how she and Joanna would go collect rocks and she convinced her to throw them at a cop.

51. What would be/is their most-used/favourite emoji?

If she ever lived long enough to use a phone she would use 😎. She thinks sunglasses are cool.

52. What would/do they put as their computer/phone wallpaper/ background?

A photo of her family!

53. Have they always had their current hairstyle? If not, what’s another hairstyle they’ve had in the past?

Well, when she was a kid she used to have longer hair, but then a boy at school would tug her hair all the time. Eventually Ida started cutting her own hair, and eventually learned to style her own hair. (As "styled" as it can get).

54. When they can’t fall asleep, what do they do?

!!! RARE!!! But probably read or do some exercising to make herself tired.

55. What do they consider the best decision they’ve ever made?

Befriending Yayoi Dojima.

56. What do they wear for a day out at the beach?

Probably a tank top with shorts.

57. How do they feel about babies? How would they deal with a friend’s baby being put in their arms?

Loves them! She helped raise her sister so she has some experience. While she isn't really a fan of caring for one she loves squishing their little cheeks and making faces at them. Would gladly hold one if someone needed her to, would probably try to tickle it or something.

58. Most embarrassing situation they’ve ever experienced?

Being rejected by a girl I think, otherwise I can't think of anything else. (Might change in the future)

59. How do they feel about rollercoasters?

Loves them! Would go on one whenever she got the chance.

60. Have they broken any bones and if so, how?

Yes, multiple ways. Broke her leg when she was 7 from jumping down from a tree, her big for after angrily kicking a cement block at 12, broke her left hand after tripping and landing on it wrong, when ISN'T she breaking her bones?

61. Do they consider themself a good liar?

Not sure, if she gets caught, well she gets caught, if she doesn't then she doesn't.

62. Would they rather have very cold weather (under -20C/-4F) or very hot weather (over 30C/86F)?

Actually prefers the heat due to getting sick easily. Plus she enjoys going out and getting ice cream or going to the beach.

63. How good are they/would they be at Monopoly?

Would probably be good at it.

64. Do they like musicals?

YUP YUP YUUUP!!!

65. Have they ever been blackout drunk? Under what circumstances?

Yes, it actually happens a lot more often than it should.

66. What genre is the book that they’ve read the most times in their life?

Romance drama.

67. What’s something they (at this moment) think/hope they’ll never have to admit to someone else?

That she was involved in the Jingweon massacre.

68. How good/bad are they/would they be at assembling IKEA furniture?

Very bad, too impatient and has a hard time understanding the instructions probably.. Would quit in 5 minutes.

69. What’s something that really scared them as a kid?

Leeches. (Also being abandoned)

70. Are they allergic to anything?

Bees.

71. What’s the longest they’ve ever gone without sleeping, and why?

Two days after the Jingweon massacre.

72. Feelings on spicy food?

Can't handle it. At all.

73. How much do they jay-walk in cities?

What? What makes you think she would jay-walk?? (I am lying she does it all day everyday whenever she gets the chance).

74. Do they have any tattoos or piercings? Do they want any/more?

Has no real interest in tattoos, and never bothered to get a piercing.

75. Preferred way to eat eggs?

Hard boiled eggs with garlic salt!!!!

76. Do they consider themself an optimist, pessimist, or realist?

Realist I think, tries her best to be positive but with her situation it's a bit hard.

77. If they’re served a food they don’t like (at like, a restaurant or someone else’s house), will they eat it anyways or leave it to the side?

At a restaurant, she would probably just take it to go and give it to someone who she might think will like it, if at someone's home of course she is gonna eat it. She doesn't want to be impolite. (Unless she can't eat it for reasons like her religion then she would simply explain she cant eat it but would thank them anyway.)

78. Would they describe themself as funny?

Oh for sure.

79. How physically flexible are they?

Not very, can't be flexible with a back pain like hers lol.

80. What’s the most bored they’ve ever been?

Before, it was in school. But now it's whenever she has to be in a room during a meeting. Absolute dread..

81. What’s one book you’ve read that you think they would also like?

I KNOW SHE WOULD LOVE DIARY OF A WIMPY KID OR CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS. She would look at the drawings and giggle to herself while kicking her feet in the air.

82. What’s a scent that never fails to make them nostalgic?

The smell of the woods, earthy smells.

83. What’s the worst thing they’ve done on a dare?

Pulled an officer's pants down and tripped him which caused him to fall off a bridge into a river. She helped him out and apologized but it still landed her in a cell.

84. How did they celebrate their coming-of-age?

Had a bat Mitzvah ceremony!

[bellafragolina]

i wanna know about Renee so be prepared for a bunch of emojieees! because I am a sucker for oc and I want more interactions with them and mine so ye! haha👪 😨 🍰 🌺 📸 🎭 👖 🎨 📎 ❇️ 💧 🌟 ☄️ 💓 💗 💚 I told there where going to be a loot!! UnU

That’s so nice!! I’d love to have Renee interact with your oc more!!!

Thank you!!!!

👪 FAMILY - what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?

Renee has a good relationship with all her family. She visits them when she can get the time off to, and she calls them a few times a week. She has a brother! (But I’m grappling with whether or not to make him a twin for the lols or just have him be younger)

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

Renee has various fears, and depending on which she’s faced with, she reacts differently. If it’s a Pokémon she’s uncomfortable around, she’s avoid it. If it’s someone in danger, she’s right in there, ready to duke it out if she knows words won’t help.

She’s not afraid to throw hands for others

🍰 CAKE SLICE - favourite cake flavour? are they specific about types of cakes?

Renee’s not picky about cakes. She prefers ones with chocolate in them, whether the cake itself or in the icing.

🌺 HIBISCUS - do they have any allergies?

Not really! Sometimes she gets sniffly around plants and grass types that are very pollinated

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

Renee, surprisingly, isn’t about her own picture. She’s so used to taking pictures she hardly thinks or is concerned about her own picture. It’s what makes a gift of her own photo or something similar so sentimental. She takes pictures to preserve moments, and to help study Pokémon, and if someone thought she was worth preserving

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Renee is pretty peppy and all smiles all the time. She’s “kinder” to strangers, and plays around more with people she’s familiar with. Playful bickering makes it seem like she’s not fond, but she is. She’s very fond if she’s teasing you about

👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit?

Jeans and a comfy shirt, usually with a fun pattern. She’s often out and about, photographing pokemon, so her clothes and comfy and able to get dirty

🎨 PALETTE - can they draw? what do they like to draw?

Renee cannot draw. She’s got a decent grasp of cartoony styles, so what she draws looks recognizable with a reference. Without its pretty bad

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

Renee can't draw but likes doodling. If she's given paper, she's doodling little Pokémon on it.

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

Her old camera! It’s from her grandfather and she adores it! Otherwise, she’s very fond of her current camera, and all the cool things it can do!

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

Despite doing her best to be friendly and make friends, Renee doesn’t have very many close friends. She moves around too much to really make any real connections. Even her family has grown distant due to her traveling, so sometimes, she feels very alone

🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?

Renee looks at the sky and thinks of constellations, stories centuries old captured in a never fading blanket of darkness. She’s fond of the stories, and whenever she’s with someone where the stars are visible, she tells the stories.

She dreams of a little one, and telling them the bedtime stories only nighttime provides

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

Renee talks fast, and with that people assume she doesn’t think before she speaks. And it’s true. She doesn’t, not always. Her brain moves quicker than her mouth, and she also hates missing a moment, so she strives to be on top of things. Thus, she stammers and stutters sometimes, leading people to think she’s a bit ditsy.

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

Someone that can make her laugh usually gets her a little flustered. She’s used to being the clown, and having someone else able to throw her wits back at her is a delight.

She also finds a rush in quick events. Moments over in the blink of a eye, like the diving of a bird into the sea, or a spider leaping off a branch, spiraling towards the ground. Renee strives to capture these minuscule moments on film, and when she manages, the thrill overwhelms her with happiness

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

It’s not completely noticeable. Renee doesn’t do much of anything different when around a crush than around other people she likes. The only thing that’s different is she may seem more subdued around the person. She’s interested in them, what they have to say, who they are in life, so she takes a backseat in conversations and hangouts, wanting to witness all there is to offer, and commit it to memory

💚 here!!

Thank you for all the emojis!! These were so fun to do!!

~Renee