#it was hard to think of good Fun Facts so I just did things I've been thinking about recently

[softspeirs]

I've Got Dreams (But I Can't Make Myself Believe Them)

Pairing: Lewis Nixon x Original Female Character Summary: Henrietta Murray keeps showing up at the most inopportune times, surely, Lewis Nixon thinks, just to drive him insane. Author's Note: Merry Christmas, @quillandink22! I'm your Secret Santa! I've had so much fun over the last month messaging you and getting to know more about you. I hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful week! Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Henrietta and the plot. Title comes from Homesick by Noah Kahan. I wrote some of this on my phone so please excuse any spelling mistakes!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The thing about Lewis Nixon is that he is not a humble person. He's good at his job, and he knows it. He takes pride in the fact that other people know he's good at his job.

His rank and his position are things he's worked hard at, things he's earned, which he's not ashamed to say isn't the norm for him. While he's sure his last name and his upbringing helped him get through OCS relatively unscathed, there was no one there to pave the way or line anyone's pockets. He did it with nothing but his intelligence and his aptitude behind him, and he was proud of that.

That's why it makes him so infuriated when he's questioned - not even because he doesn't think he could ever be wrong, he's not that egotistical - but because the woman standing in front of him, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, has never, ever taken him at his word.

Henrietta Murray has a habit of breezing in and out of active combat zones like she's going on a picnic, and that alone drives him absolutely crazy. She also has a habit of listening to what he has to say, and then, in a blase tone, saying "interesting", like it's so cute that he thinks he knows what he's talking about.

One of these days, he's going to say something to her that he'll regret, so he fights every instinct in him, every punch to his ego she dishes out, and shoves the reports into her hands.

"The details are all there. All the reports we have from the other battalions say--'

"Captain Nixon, I'm sure your reports are correct. We don't need to go over the details. Local intelligence is important to consider. That's why I'm here."

Yes. That's why she's here. Tossed around between the OSS and the SOE for months, she has seemed to land here with the Airborne as liaison, and while she has got them out of some scrapes, he's not convinced that they wouldn't have figured it out on their own.

It's unfathomable to him that she's here, in the middle of the godforsaken Ardennes forest, too-big helmet askew on her head like she's not going to get shelled at any second. The anticipation of the next fight is buzzing under his skin, and the thought of her stuck here when it happens - because it's not if, it's when - makes him want to vomit (he also doesn't want to dissect that reaction too closely).

"Why they signed off on you trudging in here, I have no idea." He grumbles, stamping his feet to try to get his circulation moving.

"It's been bad." She says. It's not a question, but her brow furrows.

"That's one word for it."

The heat seems to leave her eyes, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of fear take its place. It’s the first time he’s ever seen anything but confidence in her expression, and it unsettles him.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

He frowns. “What are you sorry for? You’re not the one firing at us.”

Something in her expression seems to signal defeat. She sits on an overturned crate in the CP and he realizes suddenly that she’s just as tired as the rest of them.

"You know--" She starts, "In town, they're just as terrified of us as they are of the Germans."

Nixon makes a face, but she continues before he can say anything.

"The kids... war is the only thing they've ever known. The color of the uniform doesn't matter. All they know is that as long as we're here, the bombs will keep falling. The shelling will continue."

The tone of her voice is different than anything he's heard come out of her before. It takes a little bit of the fight out of him.

"You've been in there too long." He says, blunt.

Her eyes flash. "You think I need to be pulled out?"

He shrugs. "Maybe if you get a break, when you come back you won't argue with me so much," he offers, smirking.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t argue with you.”

Nixon’s mouth drops open, incredulous. “All you do is argue with me—“

A loud, high-pitched whistle overhead interrupts him. Murray’s eyes fly to his, their gazes locking as the color drains from her cheeks.

“Get up.” His tone is harsh.

Yards away, the bombardment begins, the sky turning bright before everything explodes.

“Now!” He shouts, and he’s shoving her towards a foxhole before he can think about what he’s doing. “In. In, get in.” He says. He realizes she probably can’t even hear him, but his heart is pounding so hard at the thought of her being caught out in the open that his words are more for himself than for her.

He jumps in after her, ducking down when a shell explodes what feels like only mere feet away. Her eyes are shut tight as she curls in on herself, as if she can wish all of this away.

He doesn’t say another word as he crouches at her side, sinking as low into the earth as he can, and he drags her with him. She goes willingly, her body trembling with fear against him, and he takes a minute to say a prayer to anyone listening that she’ll make it through this.

Somehow the thought of her fire, her light being snuffed out as quickly and meaninglessly as this— it feels impossible.

“It’ll be alright.” He says in her ear. He has no idea if she can hear him. “Just hang on.”

It feels like hours go by but it’s likely only a few minutes before the shelling stops. The sudden silence around them is chilling, and he has a terrifying feeling that the worst has happened. He has nightmares about this - that he crawls out of his foxhole to find he’s the only one left.

Soon, Dick’s solid form is above them, brows pinched in worry. “Nix?” He calls.

Nixon feels half deaf. “I’m all right.”

“Murray?”

She’s still shaking like a leaf.

“Henrietta.” Lewis says her name firmly. She would never forgive him if he treated her like a wilting flower.

She blinks rapidly, seemingly coming back to herself. “I’m—“ she looks around, down at herself, and back up at Winters. “I’m okay.”

He nods. “Need to check the lines. Don’t go far - that might not be the only barrage. We’ll call for your transport as soon as we can.”

Nixon realizes he still has a tight grip on her shoulders, and he backs away slowly, giving her some space. The sight of her wide, terrified eyes makes something ache inside of him, but he pushes the feeling away.

“You need to get out of here.” He says quietly.

“That’s not up to you. Or me.” She replies. Her voice is steady now and he sees the familiar fire return to her eyes as she gears up for another argument.

“At least do me a favor and stop showing up here unannounced.”

She smiles. “Don’t like knowing there are things you don’t know, is that right, Captain?”

Yes, it sets his teeth on edge that the nature of her work is partially a secret. Yes, it makes him furious when she shows up whenever the whim strikes her (though he knows that’s not a fair assessment- she has intel when she has intel. It doesn’t run on a schedule) and usually the whim strikes her whenever things are about to go to hell.

“I wish you’d just get the reports via courier like everyone else. What do you need a hand delivery for?” He grumbles.

“Maybe I just like your company, Nix. That sunny disposition.”

They sit in silence for awhile longer, both of them trying to calm their racing nerves and hoping the other one doesn't notice.

"It's Christmas Eve." She says suddenly, voice morose. "Everyone in town was hoping for a ceasefire."

Nixon snorts. "It'll come an hour too late." He gestures around them. "Who feels like celebrating Christmas at a time like this?"

He's very aware of her calculating gaze on his face. He doesn't like it. She sees too much - it's why she's good at her job, though he'll never tell her that.

She reaches into her pack that, somehow, wasn't blown to bits as they had flung themselves headfirst into the foxhole. She rummages around for a second and then thrusts a small package at him.

"What's this?"

"What does it look like?" She asks, impatient.

"I don't know, that's why I'm--"

"Jesus Christ, Lewis, will you just take the goddamn present?" She asks, voice rising.

He stares at her, uncomprehending. "What?"

"Do you not celebrate Christmas? I thought for sure--"

"No, I mean-- what-- when did you have time to think about this?" About getting something for me?

"I just saw it and it made me think of you and how much you love when I show up and talk your ear off, so--"

"I didn't get you anything." He says, stupidly, as if they're having a normal Christmas shopping conversation.

She tilts her head, bemused. "I figured. That's not the point. Open it."

Inside the hastily wrapped package is a small, leather-bound notebook. Pocket-sized. It's the perfect size to shove in his jacket and he runs his fingertips over the cover, trying to understand why it feels like the world is shifting under his feet.

"There's a man in town who makes leather goods." She pauses, frowning. "Used to. I-- well, anyway. He gave me a good deal and I felt bad showing up all the time for messages. God knows what would happen to him and his family if they're caught." She's rambling, but it makes him smile, so he lets her.

"Don't look at me like that." She says, eyes narrowing as she catches his expression. "I just figured--" She huffs, cheeks reddening, embarrassed as his smile grows. "You're always forgetting important details, so now you can write them down." She says heatedly.

He laughs. "Thanks, Murray."

She ends up staying there through the night. It's too dangerous to move and if the ceasefire for Christmas does come, she can get out then.

He watches her sleep. He doesn't mean to, but he can't help it. She looks softer, younger in her sleep. He wonders how long she's been here. Wonders how many of her civilian contacts she's gotten close to before she learned not to get attached. Wonders how and why she ended up here, in this job.

He wonders why he's wondering about her so much.

Shoving the thoughts away, he closes his eyes. He can hear the Germans singing. It sounds like Christmas music.

He falls asleep to the sound of her breathing.

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

I'm starting Mission to Zyxx Season 5 now, and I have feelings about that.

First, it generally scares me when people hype anything up at all because there is no guarantee that anyone values the exact same thing I do to the same degree. Even if I trust the creators of a thing to value something and try to do right by it, that doesn't always necessarily mean it will be successful, especially if that involves doing something wildly different than what made it good in the first place (I have been burned this way before). I guess I'm just hoping they continue the format of goofy improv shenanigans for the majority of it with something more planned and emotional in the finale if they want, like they've been doing all along. I'd think they would, and I've heard nothing bad about the ending, but I guess it still makes me nervous because I'm so close to the end and I want it so badly to stick the landing. I'm setting my expectations on the floor so I can be surprised instead of disappointed, but honestly, I don't need it to be better, I just need it to be on par with the rest.

Second, and more briefly, I'm happy it's (hopefully) ending before it has a chance to decline. I am so on board with that philosophy. But on the other hand, finishing a thing that I really, really like and knowing there's not another one out there gives me a special kind of heartache. Like, I know there will be other good media, and stuff that's good and unique in other ways, but I know for a fact that there are no other podcasts out there that have the same mix of a balance of off-the-wall improv and structured narrative, quality comedy, fantastical sci-fi setting and loveable characters, and high quality production. There are other things out there with many of those qualities, but nothing that checks every one of those boxes. It's a lightning-in-a-bottle thing that very much feels like the right people had to be in the right place at the right time to do it. Attempts to do it again would feel hollow because it had to be born out of necessity and passion and the talents of the people involved, so if you switch out the people it loses the reasons it's great, and if the same people tried to do it again it'd feel tired. That makes me so, so grateful it exists, but also so, so sad that it doesn't, and I'm 80% of the way done. When it's over, it's over.

Anyway. Now that that's all out there, I'm just gonna finish listening and have fun. Wish me luck.

[averlym]

,,, little lemmings in line...

[welcometogrouchland]

FINALLY watched Ready Or Not (2019) with the fam and FUCCCCKKKKKK FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT WHEN WOMEN ARE COVERED IN BLOOD AND FIGHTING FOR THEIR LIVES TOOTH AND NAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELL FUCKING YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[effemimaniac]

40

44

44

44

big number.....

40: Who wish I could be (sic): this is kinda hard. I can't really think of a particular person I wish I could be over myself, at least not in totality. more generally I very often wish I was more functional and productive and driven and such. just like, better at carrying things out and following through. I'm always envious of the type of cool well organised girl who seems to have all her shit together.

44: A random fact about anything: The Roland TB-303 Bass Line synthesizer was marketed as a replacement for bass guitar, but because of its unrealistic sound and difficulty to use it was a commercial failure at the time of release. Because of this, remaining stock were sold off very cheaply and many units were resold and donated by disappointed customers and years later the 303 became very popular among house music producers, integral to the development of Acid House. The squelchy 303 tone and musicality of the tone controls remains iconic and well-recognised to this day.

44: A random fact about anything: CD Audio is encoded with pulse code modulation (PCM) with a sample rate of 44,100 Hz and a bit-depth of 16. this means that in the recording or conversion of audio to this format, the amplitude of the analog signal is sampled 44,100 times each second at a resolution of 16 bits (as a two's complement integer, -32768 to +32767 in decimal). The bit-depth determines the dynamic range possible for a recording, and the sample rate determines the top of the frequency range (the sample rate is twice the value of frequencies that can be represented, due to the Nyquist-Shannon sampling theorum). The sample rate is chosen such that it can in theory represent the full range of frequencies humans are capable of hearing (up to 22.05 kHz)

44: A random fact about anything: even though it's considered outdated and is no longer present as a diagnosis in the DSM-5, on paper I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome in ~2018 because the psychiatrist I saw still used the DSM-IV for diagnosis, for some reason. (I don't personally identify with this label because of its eugenicist history and connotations)

[arolesbianism]

Some Brute doodles plus a bonus Button

[foldingfittedsheets]

Before my beloved and I moved in together they were living with roommates in a place that didn't have a bathtub. Now, a reasonable person might conclude from this that baths would be out of the equation in a home with only one standing shower and no tub.

But these people weren't quitters. Naturopathic doctors and acupuncturists they were dedicated to treating their bodies well and one of the ways they liked to do that was hydrotherapy. Most people are familiar with this through things like polar bear plunges. You sit in a hot tub then jump in freezing water.

It's supposedly good for you and they were way into it. But again, no tub. They'd do hydro showers but it just wasn't the same. These people were not quitters, though. (One of them is the boob soap person, so it really isn't a surprise that she goes hard on everything). So they got what looked like two big metal old timey tubs but which were actually animal food troughs and set them up in the garage. They set up a water heater and god knows how they emptied the tub after, I think there was hoses involved? A pump maybe? I honestly can't remember. Anyway! Voila, hydrotherapy on demand.

I was not aware of this. So when I came over after a long day and my beloved said we should take a bath I was extremely puzzled. I only knew about the one shower. They showed me the garage tubs. I did want a bath and I wasn't really sure about the setup, but honestly I'll try anything once if only for the story, so I agreed.

Fun fact about me though. I haaaate being cold. I've been 0% body fat most of my life with skin barely keeping my bones enclosed. I'm always cold. My favorite activity at the time was sitting directly in front of space heaters. My shower temperatures turn me lobster red and make my beloved cringe. Willingly dunking myself into cold water is the antipathy of my entire deal.

On the night in question I happily submerged into the warm tank, pleasantly surprised by the big silly improvised tub. Which again was meant for livestock. My knees bumped companionably against my beloved as we soaked in the hot water. After a while they rose to go into the cold water. "You don't have to," they told me.

But I was haunted. I wouldn't be doing hydro if I just stayed in the warm tub. Maybe hydro was amazing. It has all these health benefits. I desperately didn't want to but I stood up with them. We were having this nice intimate evening in the garage, just us, I felt safe. I was gonna do it.

They stepped easily into the cold tub, dunking matter of factly into the frigid water. I went to step. I did. I really really tried. My foot went in and I started shrieking, my progress arrested by the total state of shock I entered when my warm toasty foot hit that smug arctic water tension. My beloved started laughing as my pitch ascended the deeper my foot went into the cold water.

I started loudly narrating my discomfort as my foot touched the bottom and I willed my other foot up to join it. "THIS IS VERY COLD," I yelled, "IT'S SO COLD I THINK I MIGHT DIE HOW ARE YOU JUST CASUALLY SITTING IN THIS FREEZING COLD WATER?! I'M DYING- I THINK I'M DYING! I'M DYING BUT WE'RE HERE, TOGETHER! I CAN DO THIS! I CAN DO THESE EVEN THOUGH IT'S SO COLD ALL MY MOLECULES HAVE COMPRESSED INTO A SOLID STATE!"

I ended up with both feet planted in the cold tub, water up to my shins, bellowing and panting while my beloved laughed so hard they couldn't breathe. I hunkered over the cold water, squatting like a frozen gargoyle.

My beloved was trying to psyche me up while I willed my body to obey me. In a sudden jerky drop like a puppet whose strings have been cut I plummeted my body into the cold and let out a shriek that I’m sure could have shattered glass and then leapt up out of the water at a speed relative to a rocket achieving space flight. I didn’t like it.

When we got back inside my beloved's roommates were collapsed on the ground with tears in the their eyes from how hard they'd been laughing. They and probably every neighbor down the block had heard my pterodactyl screeching and narration because the garage was not remotely soundproof.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Spicy Stories

JK Rowling: hello children Poe: oh Poe: oh joanne Poe: you're back Rowling: i have concernss Poe: uh we're mostly about just telling stories here Poe: you have your own campfire for your terf stuff don't you? Rowling: yess but they've really been getting on my nervess lately

Rowling: you know how it iss with terf deatheaterss Poe: not really Rowling: alwayss agreeing with everything i ssay Rowling: all "oh yes dark lord" this and "oh spare me dark lord" that Rowling: ssometimess you jusst get tired of hearing "masterful gambit dark lord"

Rowling: i tell you, you don't know how hard it is to run a cult L Ron Hubbard: oh yeah woof big mood Hubbard: people think its all fun, but its actually a lot of work Rowling: I know right????

Poe: regardless, joanne, i'm going to have to put my foot down Poe: this campfire is just for stories Rowling: uhhh actually i do have a new ssstory Rowling: i wass insspired to write after having an argument on the internet Barker: oh damn no shit? Barker: that's wild

Rowling: it's a new harry potter ssstory King: oh man! it's about time, i've been hoping for a new potter story for ages! Rowling: itss about hermione going back in time to help grindelwald, who actually had sssome good points if you think about it

Rowling: i call it Rowling: the time turner diariesss Barker: wow this is not really funny anymore Baker: its like INTENSELY not funny Lovecraft: catchy title tho!

Rowling: i'm retconning grindelwald into a misundersstood idealisst Rowling: who was only forced to make hard choicess because of the unreassonablenesss of decadent weimar society

Rowling: oh also you know that thing where people kept criticizing me cuz technically grindelwald's "evil" plan was to prevent the holocaust? Rowling: well good news Rowling: i've rectified that little mistake

Rowling: like, why would the naziss target transs & queer people, traditionally the most powerful and widely accepted memberss of ssociety? Rowling: would not the naziss, famouss for their love of diverssity, actually approve of them? Rowling: i'm jusst asskin questions

King: actually joanne there's a lot of well-documented evidence Barker: give it up steve King: no no i can fix this King: i'm sure if i just lay out the facts in a logical, well-reasoned manner- Barker: oh god that's so cute Barker: don't you just love him? Poe: that's our steve

King: so you see the nazi book burning of the institute for sexualwissenschaft- Rowling: nope Rowling: didn't happen King: King: well it kinda did, see, as i was saying- Rowling: thiss iss missogyny

Rowling: i don't undersstand you lot at all Rowling: i come into your campfire, i make a sstatement that i really want to be true & you all refuse to accept it Rowling: thiss issn't the way it works over with my terf deatheaters at all Rowling: they love accepting things i ssay!

Rowling: it'ss actually really missogynisstic that you all refusse to accept what i'm ssaying asss truth Rowling: even though you all know how badly i want it to be true King: but joanne, it isn't true- Rowling: ssave it for court ssteve!

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers Shelley: i got here late wot's going on? Barker: joanne is doing holocaust denial Rowling: EXCUSE ME it'ss only holocausst denial if you quesstion the murder of jews Rowling: tho now that i think about it i do have some questionss

Rowling: like, would they not have ussed their goblin magic to essscape? Lovecraft: ya know, she makes a good point Sonia Greene: i'm right here howard Lovecraft: Greene: see, this is why i don't talk much

[springtyme]

Hey luv, hope all is well. So, I just previously read your spencer x girly!reader and I absolutely loved them. While reading the chess part, an idea sparked.

So if possible could you do something similar where Spencie boy and girly!reader are playing chess and she is obviously frustrated or something because she doesn’t understand. So being the amazing boy wonder he is, Spencer secretly acts like he had no good moves and the reader just starts pointing out the moves he could make not knowing he can clearly see those moves and he lets the reader win making her super excited and happy and immediately sets the board back and starts another game.

I just think it would be so cute to see how Spencer would just gaze at and admire the reader as she is focused and asks questions. If this is too confusing or too similar to the original chess part no worries. It’s simply a mere thought I had. Do with it what you please!!!

Love your works and your blog 🥰🤗

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲 ♡

Thank you so much, hun ♡ I't makes me so happy to hear that you liked the other ones, I've had so much fun with them. And thank you so much for this request, it's such a cute scenario!

Spencer Reid x girly!reader|| Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: Spencer truly can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. With you, everything just feels so natural, despite him being in completely foreign waters. You keep being patient with him, every step of the way. With you, everything just falls into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally fitting snugly into its spot. All he ever want to do is make you smile, even when it means that he has to lose in chess on purpose. Part one & part two 💕

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I was actually in a chess club in school, but we did not play chess, so sorry if the chess parts aren’t very accurate, I tried my best, lol.

Spencer watches you intently, his heart swelling with adoration at the sight of you trying your best. He can see the determination in your eyes, the way you furrow your brow in concentration, and it only deepens the love he feels for you. Your stained lips pouting sweetly as you contemplate your next move

You let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in your chair with a frustrated expression. “I just don’t understand this game, Spence. I feel like I’m making all the wrong moves,” you sigh, moving your knight in a random direction. “At this point I‘m just making moves for the sake of it.”

Spencer can’t help but smile at your frustration, finding it endearing how you get so worked up over a game of chess. Moving your knight wasn’t the best move you could have made, but he doesn’t want to tell you that, and it wasn’t the worst move either. He reaches out to gently place his hand on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but he lets his fingers linger for a little while. It always manages to surprise him how soft your skin is, and how it feels so warm and comforting beneath his touch.

You look up at him, your pretty eyes meeting his gaze and Spencer feels how his heart skips a beat at the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Some people use their entire life to master this game, and you’ve only been playing for a few weeks,” he reminds you. “You’re doing great, and trust me, you’re not as lost as you think you are.”

You smile softly at his reassurance. “So, what I’m hearing you say is that if I keep going, there’s still a chance that I can be a big old chess nerd like you?” you tease, nudging him playfully.

Spencer chuckles at your teasing, loving the way you always manage to make him laugh, something he hasn’t always had an easy time with. “Hey, being a nerd isn’t that bad, okay?”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, leaning in closer to him. “In fact, I think it’s kind of cute.” Spencer’s heart flutters at your words, feeling a warmth spread through him at the way you look at him with such affection.

Spencer knows many things, arguably too many things, but he will never be able to understand what you see in him, you’re so beautiful and confident and always so kind to everyone, there is no doubt in his mind that you are way, way out of his league, but he is grateful every day that you, for whatever reason, chose him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he mumbles, a slight blush dusting his cheeks at your words.

“I actually think you’re very cute, you know,” you say playfully, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of his face with a gentle touch. Spencer can feel his heart racing in his chest as he looks into your eyes, seeing nothing but love and admiration reflected back at him.

He leans in closer to you, unable to resist the magnetic pull that always seems to bring you both together. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss, filled with all the love and affection that Spencer feels for you. In that moment, nothing else matters except for the two of you and the way your hearts beat as one.

As you pull away, a smile tugs at the corners of Spencer’s lips, a smile that only you can bring out in him. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

“I love you too, Spence,” you respond, your eyes shining with your own smile, bright and full of happiness.

Spencer will never be able to wrap his head around why you love him, but damn he is glad and forever grateful that you do. If he could travel back in time and tell his younger self that he would find someone as amazing and wonderful as you - that someone as beautiful and kind hearted as you would ever love him, he wouldn’t have believed it, he would probably think that it was some kind of cruel joke. But here you are.

It’s overwhelming, really, the love and adoration he feels for you in every fiber of his being. He never knew he could feel this way about someone, never knew that someone could make him feel so alive and complete. The fact that he feels so at home and normal with another person in his life is beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

But with you, everything just feels so natural, despite him being in completely foreign waters, you keep being patient with him every step of the way and with you by his side, it doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. With you, everything just falls into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally fitting snugly into its spot.

“Oh, you got something…” you whisper, almost more to yourself than him. He is confused for a short second, until he feels your thumb brush against the corner of his mouth, wiping away the trace of lipstick that had transferred from your lips to his. Spencer chuckles at the realization, feeling a warm rush of affection for you. “There…” you say with a soft smile.

Spencer can’t help but chuckle at the tender gesture, feeling a surge of warmth behind his chest.

“You can’t keep distracting me like this,” you tease, leaning in closer to him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’m actually trying to beat you at this game, you know.”

Spencer’s smile widens at your playful tone, a twinkle in his eye as he looks at you. “Who says I’m going to make it easy for you?” he responds, his voice laced with amusement.

“You did! You literally said that you would go easy on me,” you pout, crossing your arms in mock annoyance.

Spencer laughs, a sound that fills the room with joy. “Okay, okay, I may have said that,” he concedes, “but, I don’t think you really need me to, you know. You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up beating me at my own game someday.”

“I doubt that,” you mumble, looking back at the board with furrowed brows.

Spencer leans back in his chair, watching you with admiration as you study the board, he can see the gears turning in your head. He knows what move he should be doing, the move that could make him win the game, but he isn’t really interested in that.

“Well, it looks like I’m running out of options,” he say, feigning defeat as he moves his bishop into a vulnerable position.

You glance up at him. “You could have moved your rook to that square and set up a potential checkmate in a few moves,”you point out, sounding both surprised and proud that you saw the possible move.

Spencer had, of course, seen that it would have been the right move to make, but he wanted to give you a chance to shine, and to prolong the game. Seeing the pride and satisfaction in your eyes is worth more than winning any game ever could.

“Oh, you’re right,” he says, trying to sound surprised, like he hadn’t seen that move multiple rounds in advance. But he must not be a very convincing actor, and he can’t help but smile as he watches the look of realization dawn on your face.

You roll your eyes playfully, seeing right through his act. “You’re such a goof, Spence,” you giggle, shaking your head in amusement. “But thank you for giving me a chance to show off a little.”

“I guess I just wanted to give you a fighting chance,” he says, leaning in closer to you.

You playfully swat at his arm, a laugh escaping your lips. “Dork,” you tease, but there’s a fondness in your tone that makes his heart swell with even more love for you, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, before leaning back again to look at you, his heart overflowing with adoration for you.

You playfully roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of gratitude in your expression. “Well, thanks for the favor,” you say with a smile, moving your queen in a strategic position that surprises Spencer.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise at your move, impressed by your strategic thinking. “Oh, someone’s feeling confident now, huh?” he teases, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You shrug nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, you did say you weren’t going to go easy on me,” you quip, moving your pieces with a newfound determination.

Spencer watches you closely, his heart filled with pride at the way you’re starting to grasp the game more and more and making better and better strategic moves. He can’t help but admire your intelligence and quick thinking, feeling a sense of awe at the way you surprise him at every turn.

And yes, he might go a little easy on you from time to time, but he can see that you’re starting to understand the game on a deeper level. And that, to him, is worth more than winning a game of chess ever could.

As the game progresses, Spencer can see the determination in your eyes, the way you carefully plan out your moves and anticipate his next move

“You’re really giving me a run for my money, aren’t you?” Spencer remarks, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you strategize your next move. You give him a sly grin, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I told you not to underestimate me, Spence,” you say confidently, moving your knight into a position that puts him on the defensive.

Spencer chuckles, impressed by your bold move. “I should know better by now,” he admits, moving his rook to protect his vulnerable bishop. The game continues, each move calculated and strategic, and Spencer can’t help but admire the way you’ve grown since your first game together.

“Checkmate,” you say triumphantly, a grin stretching across your face as you realize you’ve won. Spencer can’t help but smile back, feeling a rush of excitement and happiness at your victory. “Well done, darling,” he says, leaning in to give you a congratulatory kiss.

“I still feel like you went easy on me, but thank you,” you tease, a playful glint in your eye. Spencer can’t help but laugh, feeling grateful for the opportunity to see the excited smile that is lighting up your face, making your already beautiful features shine even brighter with a sense of pride.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't,” he teases back, a twinkle in his eye. “But regardless, you did really well, I can’t believe how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time.”

You grin at his words. “Well, I’ve had a really great teacher,” you remark. “And he is, like, sooo handsome too. It’s actually wild that I could even concentrate on the game,” you add with a wink before you’re leaning in to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

Spencer’s heart flutters at your words, feeling a surge of love and adoration for you that he can’t quite put into words, they are too big and too overwhelming to express, so instead he tries to pour every bit of that love and adoration into the kiss that he returns to you.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him as he deepens the kiss, savoring the feeling of being so close to you, of sharing this moment. He might have lost the game, but because of you, he has never felt like less of a loser.

As you both pull away, a smile lingers on both of your faces, and Spencer can’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity and adoration.

“I love you too, Spence,” you respond, your eyes filled with nothing but love and affection for him “Now help me set this board up again, I want to beat you fair and square this time,” you say with a playful glint in your eye. Spencer chuckles at your competitive spirit, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he helps you set up the board once more.

[h2llish]

i've been following your blog for a while and absolutely adore your writing!

if its okay i'd love to see something with either leona or jamil (up to you!) and a reader who falls asleep on their shoulder during some sort of nrc road trip.. i'm not sure if nrc would have buses per say considering all the magic and stuff but the concept of an nrc school trip seems super interesting to me so if you're up for the request by all means just have fun with it!! i do notice that your requests are semi open so feel free to decline ofc !

— ☁️

⁀➷ ˖ ROAD TRIP DROWSINESS

notes ─── hi anon! i’m so happy you like my writing! i don't think they'd have buses at nrc because of the mirror, but crowley would probably spring a sudden road trip on them which would just confuse the students, because why? (i also imagine their bus would probably be a bit fancier? idk how to explain it but nothing like the busses i'm used to.)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR ─── a wave of drowsiness leads you to find comfort on his shoulder ♡ fluff, gender neutral, can be read platonic or romantic, not proofread

transportation for students at nrc was not hard, all they had to do was enter the dark mirror and then they found themselves safely at their destination. so if it was that easy, why in the world was the headmage so adamant that they boarded this bus like they were kids back in middle school? ─ a road trip was his very (might many students say stupid) answer.

the only person who seemed to not have a problem with this sudden turn of events, was the magicless prefect from ramshackle. you didn't give any complaints or groan about using the easy way to get to the destination. you just nodded when the headmage announced the decision.

students were chosen at random, names drawn from a hat (a method the headmage seemed to rely on often).  and as the prefect, and the designated scapegoat for everything crowley did, you were of course among that group, with your dire beast other half. 

“i don't get it,” grim frowned, sitting on your shoulder as you approached the bus, where many familiar faces waited to board. “why can't we just use the mirror?”

ace was walking alongside you, being one of the people drawn to join the group. he had decided to met you at ramshackle, knowing you would inevitably have to board the bus as well. “i think the headmage called it some sort of bonding experience. don't know how a hours-long road will be a bonding experience.”

grim grumbled, turning his head to look at your face. you have yet to say anything to add to the conversation. “whaddya’ think, [name]?”

“what?” you blinked, sending a glance to the dire beast before looking ahead of you once more. “what do i think about what?”

“were you even listening to anything we just said?” ace sighed. 

you hummed, “i’ve learned to tune you guys out the moment you start speaking.” ─ and then you were wincing as the two of them shouted, leaning your head away from the monster as he and ace expressed how offended they were.

you sighed, this was going to be a long ride.

and right you were. 

things were okay (as okay as a group of irritable teenage boys with magic on a bus could be) during the first hour. but as the first hour turned to half, and you found yourself growing drowsy, you attempted to doze off, at least for a good twenty minutes. you were unsuccessful, as the moment you closed your eyes, you were quickly opening them to glance at a yelling grim.

epel and sebek, also being among the names drawn, were sitting next to you. epel and grim looked ready to pounce on an unnamed student who seemed to have picked a fight with them. ace didn't do much to stop the argument, in fact, he was actively encouraging it. and sebek, while he made an attempt to hold back a seething grim, was not of much help either. 

you sighed, but made no move to stop it ─ you expected something to happen eventually, and you weren't all that up to being the “reasonable” one of the group. you aren't sure what the argument was about, but neither did you care. if grim got in trouble for attacking a student, it would come back to bite you, but that was something for future you to worry about.

you glanced around the bus, before your attention landed on the savanaclaw housewarden sitting alone. ─ your friends continued to argue with the random guy, and you were sure they had no intention of ending the argument anytime soon. and you would rather sleep off some time on the road rather than listen to your friends go back and forth with someone you didn't even know the name of. you stood from your seat, uncaring of whether or not it was okay to do so as you approached the empty seat. 

leona had his head down, probably napping, the same thing you wanted to do. when you sat down beside him his ears twitched and he lifted his head to look at you, probably intending to scowl and scare off whoever had been stupid enough to sit beside him, until he realized it was you.

“what are you doing?” he frowned at you, but you went unfazed.

“sitting next to you, obviously.”

leona rolled his eyes, “why?”

instead of giving a verbal answer, you pointed at your friends, where sebek now had a grip on the scruff of grim’s neck, keeping him from jumping at the student. ace was laughing, offering no help to the half-fae. epel was no better than grim, with sebek’s arm held out in front of him, keeping him from doing anything.

"so you came to bother me instead?" he asked, and you looked at him straight-faced.

"yup."

leona sighed, but he didn't tell you to scram (not like you would if he did). he didn't say anything else, only close his eyes again and turning away, likely to try and nap. you weren't offended by his lack of reply, leaning your head back against the seat and trailing your eyes over the bus and your peers.

the longer you sat in somewhat silence ─ save for the incoherent yelling from your friends, you had for the most part zoned out, and the chatter of those on board ─ you found yourself falling to the drowsiness that have been interrupted before. you closed your eyes and let the movement of the bus guide you to sleep.

leona was awake, annoyed by the bus and those on the bus. his ears twitched when he heard your breathing slow beside him and he lifted his head, just as your head lolled to the side and you leaned against his shoulder.

he sighed, but made no move to push you off, glancing around you at the rest of the students of nrc, who were all either sleeping themselves, or chatting with friends. he leaned his head back, eyeing you as you shifted for a moment before relaxing again.

"where'd [name] go?" leona could hear your friends ask, no longer distracted by the argument that they were having with the random student.

he looked back at them, just in time to catch ace's eye, who was the first to see you sleeping against leona. he looked ready to say something, but leona narrowed his eyes on the first year. ace immediately shut his mouth, grinning awkwardly as he turned back to his friends.

leona huffed, looking back down at you to make sure you didn't stir. he adjusted in more comfortable position, an arm resting behind you on the seat, allowing you to lean closer, and hopefully, be more comfortable than leaning against his shoulder the way you had. and then he closed his eyes and joined you in a nap for the rest of the ride. (at least until they stopped for a break.)

this wasn't proofread so there will be probably be mistakes, i'll try to come back to edit later!

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai

[jawbone-xylophone]

Okay time to be really opinionated: I think almost the entire TMA fandom writes Michael Distortion wrong.

Every time I read a fic about him people are emphasizing how swirly and elongated he/it is.

What's scary about Michael is that it is essentially the living personification of gaslighting. He makes everything else metaphorically swirly.

Sure there's "nobody would believe you", but most people who meet Michael think he looks angelic. He only looks scary out of the corner of your eye, or if he's feeding you just enough truth to get your guard down. He's fun to draw and describe as a psychedelic nightmare, but he is basically the gaslighting demon. It's a polite young man with curly hair and a beautiful smile who you could absolutely take home to meet your mother.

You only know he's a monster because your lizard brain starts screaming.

On a related note, its portfolio also includes dissociation and hallucinations, and nobody takes enough advantage of that– like, kissing Michael. Lots of people describe kissing Michael as a very physical event with notes of static and that tingling sensation of limbs falling asleep. A good start, but my argument: you feel him smooching your cheek and giving your hand a cute little squeeze, despite the fact that he's across the room ordering a coffee. It feels so real. You can feel his callouses catching at your fingers, but no matter how you flex your hand there's nothing there but air. You don't know if you just want it that badly and your eyes are lying, or what. He brings you a coffee and the sensation vanishes.

I know exactly what that episode about "the man who wasn't there" was because I've experienced it, and nobody utilizes that enough. Have you ever closed your eyes and tried to walk through a room, and been Firmly Convinced there was an object in front of you you were about to run into, despite no evidence of such an object when you open your eyes? It's a little like that. Any sort of relationship with Michael Distortion (not recommended and likely a way it has killed many people) would involve you getting comfortable with the fact that your senses are lying to you at an exponentially increasing rate, like a frog slowly being boiled alive.

Is he there? Is he not? Does it matter? You feel loved. You remember being told good morning and eating a homemade breakfast. Did you actually? Maybe it's a memory from a year ago you only think is from this morning. He's adorable even if his laugh gives you tinnitus. Maybe you've always had migraines. He takes care of you through them. Can you remember what he does to take care of you? ....normal people stuff, probably. Ice packs. You think he brought you ice packs once. You're sitting at a bus stop, going... somewhere, for a reason you're sure, and your body is telling you you're sitting on his lap but you keep checking, tapping with your nails, and the seat is hard metal. Does it matter? Maybe it really is him. You'd prefer if it was him. These cute little hallucinations are his way of showing affection. It's comfortable, even when the city shuts off your water because you only thought you paid your bills. He gives you his coat in the rain, and you laugh together and run through the weather, but when you get home you're holding a stranger's purse full of cash instead of a coat and you have no idea why. It's his idea of affection, though. He says he loves you when you ask about it, anyway, and don't you need the money now?

He's a lovely young man and the only normal thing in a world gone mad. The gloves only come off when it's done playing with its food.

[jellieland]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO?

"I mean no!" says Zedaph. "It's really very simple. I don't know what you're having so much trouble with."

YOU DIED.

"I sure did!" says Zedaph.

AND THUS, YOU MUST SERVE YOUR SENTENCE AS A REAPER.

"Hmm. Nah, not really feeling it to be honest." He shrugs. "Been there, done that, didn't even get a t-shirt if you can believe it? And besides, I don't have a hotbar. I can't believe you would try and take advantage of a man with no hotbar!"

HOW HAS THIS HAPPENED? HAVE YOU BEEN CURSED BY SOME OTHER ENCROACHING DEITY? WHAT FORCE HAS TAKEN SUCH A FUNDAMENTAL TOOL FROM YOU?

...IS THIS THOSE VAULT GODS? THEY DO SO LOVE TO MEDDLE.

"What? Oh no, no. It's just a fun sort of challenge."

...I SEE. NOW, RETURNING TO YOUR EARLIER POINT. YOU SAY YOU HAVE SERVED YOUR TIME?

"Oh, yeah! I feel like I would have a bit of an unfair advantage, and I wanted to kick things off with a challenge. Last time all I had to do was ask, you know, and they were falling over themselves to die! I guess it's just part of my natural charm."

...

There is a short silence.

Zedaph squints. "Are you alright? You look a bit unnerved! Don't worry, I'm not in the habit of putting cosmic forces out of a job, I've got much more interesting things to be getting on with. You know, I really do just want to be left to my own devices most of the time."

VERY WELL. I SUPPOSE THAT CAN BE ARRANGED.

"There we go!" He says encouragingly. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Don't worry, I won't mess with your unpaid intern Reapers, as long as they don't mess with me! Promise!"

YOUR PROMISE HAS BEEN NOTED. I WISH YOU LUCK WITH YOUR... "FUN CHALLENGE", IN WHICH YOU SEPARATE YOURSELF FROM AN INTRINSIC PART OF YOUR NATURE FOR NO REASON I CAN DISCERN.

"Aww, thanks! Good luck with your Reaping and Reaping related activities! Now, if you don't mind me, I'm going to go look for one of the other Hermits to beg for some pity iron."

FAREWELL.

Zedaph respawns, laughs, and shakes his head. "One time Reaping? What will they think of next?" he muses.

The sheer novelty of it all is almost enough to distract him from the fact that he's back at square one, without a single stick to his name.

Ah well. If he'd wanted things to be easy, he would have joined Grian's little "plaything of death" game.

"Easy" was all very well and good, but he always was more of a fan of "interesting".

[bunni-v1]

hi! congratulations on 500 followers! could you make the full nsfw alphabet list with Idia please? (sorry for the bad English)

🍓I POSTED!!! I've had this sitting in the drafts for a week and I finally decided to post it (YAY!!!). I've also got Jade's qued up for later today, and I'll be working on Azul and Floyds in my free time (when I get free time that is). Sorry I took so long to post, life has been tough on me and I just didn't have the tools to deal with it. I'll be back and posting irregularly until December when I can actually take time and write again.

Idia NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare: Idia Shroud is the WORST at aftercare, and I say this with so much love and kindness to the walking punching bag that calls himself a man. Genuinely though, sex overstimulates him so badly, so he cannot handle anything after the fact. He’s the kind to roll over off you (more like slide you off him) and fall asleep immediately. Of course, he mumbles out something about it feeling good and all that stuff, but 9 times out of 10 he’s out like a light.

B = Body part: He is a thigh man. He doesn’t care if it's thick and meaty, he just wants to rest his head on it. Maybe give it a nibble, if you’d let him of course (consent is key, even for a dirty Otaku like him). For him… he doesn’t like most things about himself, but if you seem to like something about him a lot, he grows to like it too. So if you like his hair, it’s probably his hair, if you like his lips or teeth it’s them. (What can I say, he’s weak for you).

C = Cum: SALTYYYYY! He doesn’t take care of himself what did you expect. It’s unpleasant to taste, and there’s A LOT of it to taste. It’s a pretty thick consistency and really sticky, fun to play with and watch dribble down your stomach and face. 

D = Dirty secret: He wants you to peg him. I wouldn’t say that’s much of a secret, but he thinks it is. 

E = Experience: NONE. Zip, zero, zilch. I make fun of Malleus for being a Virgin, but IDIA IS A VIRGIN. He’ll blush to hold your hand, it’s that bad. However, he does watch a LOT of Porn (Hentai specifically), so he has… an idea of what to do. He’s really nervous first time around, but once he gets comfortable with you he’s pretty good, just a little unrealistic in his expectations sometimes.

F = Favorite position: Doggy! Especially if you’re wearing cute little puppy or kitty ears! He likes watching the way your back arches, and he’s a big fan of pulling your hair or squeezing your hips. Other than that, he loves face-sitting. Surrounded by your thighs, oh that’s a good death for Idia Shroud.

G = Goofy: Initially, he is entirely on accident. He wants to be serious and cool about it, but he’s like a blushing schoolgirl and making a million mistakes. His line delivery is so… cringe and embarrassing you can’t help but laugh. It humiliates him, but eventually, he learns to just embrace it, and he becomes pretty goofy. He loves cracking jokes just to see you smile, cause the one thing he loves more than your thighs has to be your pretty little smile.

H = Hair: I know it’s blue flames too, I just know it. That shit is not tamed either. Like he trims, but honestly it’s hard to control something that's constantly shifting and changing. And, before you ask, yes it does flare up with his emotions like his hair does too. 

I = Intimacy: Depends… Idia isn’t someone I would ever describe as romantic, but he is a sweetie. He likes it hard and rough so it’s hard to say it’s very romantic, but he does like you close and he loves looking at you. You catch him smiling down at you like you’re some kind of goddess sometimes. You won’t catch him saying cheesy lines like how much he loves you or how pretty you are (cause it will actually kill him if he does).

J = Jack off: Mastrubating champ of NRC. He’s alone in his room 90% of the time with unlimited access to the internet and is also an Otaku. Sorry if you disagree, but you’re wrong. I know he gets off at least once a day, more if he has the time. 

K = Kink: Another biter, he just loves marking you up and sending you off with a pretty bruise for everyone to see. He’s a sadomasochist too, depending on whose topping. He wants you to push him around and hit him, make him feel helpless, it’s his favorite thing. Also into pet play, cosplay, roleplaying, and… any kind of play honestly. The weirder the better for him.

L = Location: His room and his room alone. Maybe yours, but he does not trust anyone in your dorm to respect your privacy. Besides, if he’s in his room he knows where everything is, and he can ensure no one will be getting in and seeing you that way.

M = Motivation: Most things, honestly. Be nice to him? He’s hard. Be mean to him? He’s hard. Beat him in his favorite game and act all smug (he let you win)? He’s hard. Lose and pout about it? He’s hard. He’s a sensitive guy, okay, and he thinks everything you do is super hot. Not his fault.

N = No: Share or let someone watch. Absolute nos from him. The idea of sharing you with someone and you like them more? Hah, he’d kill himself. He’s also not a fan of anyone seeing either of you in such a compromising position. He’s too nervous and possessive to let that out of the privacy of his room. Also, this might be controversial, but I can’t see him being into any kind of sibling shit. Too weird for him, he’d never want to think of his precious little brother like that, so why would he want to think of you like that?

O = Oral: He prefers receiving because watching the way you tease him with your sultry gaze as he sinks impossibly further down your throat is… heavenly. Though he isn’t bad at giving either. His tongue is long and boy can that thing move, it can reach places you didn’t even know were possible. Plus his teeth nipping at your most sensitive areas? Praise the seven, that’s good shit.

P = Pace: Fast and rough. He likes to just go at it, and he doesn’t like to stop for anything. Prepare to be pounded into next week with no stops!

Q = Quickie: He likes them, and they’re pretty common, but they’re not his favorite. When he has sex, he likes going for more than one round, and the whole point of quickies is that they’re quick so he doesn’t prefer them.

R = Risk: Yeah, he’s game to try some more risky things, but he’ll back out so fast if he’s uncomfortable for even a second. There are some things he wouldn’t consider, like bringing it out of his room. He’s a big fan of risky texts though. Like, a video of you fucking yourself in the bathroom while he’s in a meeting with the other housewardens? No one’s gonna know if he takes care of himself quickly. 

S = Stamina: He goes for multiple fast and quick rounds. He can usually do about four of them before he’s done for the night, but he’s willing to keep going if he doesn’t satisfy your needs along with his (sometimes).

T = Toys: He has a collection, actually, of really wild shit. Tentacles, ‘alien’ dicks, and even the infamous horse cock. He likes to put a bullet in you and control it from his room, watching you struggle to talk to your friends on the cameras he’s definitely allowed to have access to. 

U = Unfair: He likes to tease, but he forgets to sometimes lol. He gets so caught up in his own pleasure that, occasionally, he’ll just forget he wanted to tease you and make you all sensitive and whiny. He also likes to be teased, so please feel free to torture him when you’re topping <3

V = Volume: He tries very hard to be quiet, but bless his soul he is not. He’s so whiny and whimpery and pathetic, it’s very cute. He wants you to make as much noise as possible so that he can hide his shame, but he’ll still cry into your ear since he can’t contain himself.

W = Wild card: He sometimes prints out the pictures you send to him (with permission) and keeps them in his desk. There’s no real reason why, because he has all of them digitally, but something about having physical pictures is more thrilling to him.

X = X-ray: Hehehe, oh Idia. It is long and it is thick, bless his dad’s genetics. I’m talking like almost seven inches big, like… he’s big. It’s veiny, with one really prominent one on the top that runs from the base to just below his tip. Which, by the way, is blue like his lips. 

Y = Yearning: High, if that wasn’t made obvious before. He craves sex a lot, and it only seems to get worse after he gets with you. You’re just so pretty and perfect he can’t help it <3Z = Zzz: I said it at the start, but it’s near immediate. He gets tired easily after all that physical exertion, he just wants to nap and cuddle, you can clean up in the morning. Let him hold you :(

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

[lizzyk137]

The Technical Analyst and the Boy Genius: Spencer x Reader

Summary: You finally get your dream job working as a technical analyst for the BAU, but one team member isn't happy you're there. Warnings: Angst, talk of death, guns, shootings, stomach wounds

Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Five years. It took you five years to make it where you are today. Five years of no sleep, constant anxiety and a need to get where you want to be.

You worked your butt off in school to get your many degrees, but your hidden passion was computer work. Getting into the many cracks that was hidden and searching for answers or for what was in the unknown. It was what made you so useful to the FBI.

Throughout your five years of working for the FBI, you had been with multiple units as a technical analyst, helping your coworkers save the day on different missions. It brought you more joy than you would have thought it did when you stepped into the FBI building all those years ago.

Within that time, you've joined your teams on and off the field helping, and you struggled with what you liked better, field work or office work. Either way, you were helping. So, when you got the offer to transfer to the FBI's BAU, though you were sad to leave your team, you jumped at the chance to work with the group that was your end goal. And that was because of one person.

Penelope.

You both had only met a handful of times, your schedules always opposite of each other and your work bringing you to different locations didn't help either. But she was your mentor and her word was gospel. It had started your first year at the FBI, you had hacked into her computers just for fun and since then you were best friends. And now you were finally getting to work right were you wanted to be.

"Oh my god, oh my god, it's you! It's really you!" Penn gasped out once she saw you make your way through the double doors of the BAU's bull pen. She squished you into a hug, disregarding the fact you had a huge box in your hand.

You laughed in her embrace and your free hand circled her back. "I know it feels like a dream!"

You stood there chatting for a second before a smooth masculine voice came from behind Penn. "I heard we were getting a new partner in crime, I didn't think she'd be this beautiful." He stopped besides Penelope before saying to her, "Not as beautiful as you, baby girl."

You smiled at the exchange between the two. You had done your research on the team, Penn suppling you with random lists she made of each member to help you get to know them better. "You must be Derek Morgan, it's a pleasure to meet you." You said, stretching out your one good hand to shake.

"You know me?" Derek chuckled, as he shook your hand.

"I've done my research." You winked at him before laughing.

"See, she'll fit right in." Penn said before grabbing your hand and introducing you to everyone.

--

Two weeks had flown by since you started working besides Penn. It was awkward at first getting to know the team and how each one worked, but you didn't mind. It was the awkward bits that made it fun. You had managed to nail down how everyone worked and what they expected, except for Spencer. He was upset at you randomly, bickering at the things you said or just wanting the news from Penelope. Rossi told you it was because he didn't like change, and not to take it personally. But as the days went by, it was starting to, not matter how hard you were telling yourself to power through.

It wasn't until a case that required you specifically was when he started acting differently.

It was a strange case, the UnSub would implant a virus into large computer server farms, where he would kill his victims by using flashing lights and noises through their computers to send them into a deathly seizure. The only way to rid this virus was to remove the discs that were implanted in person while also blocking it remotely from getting to people. It was a two-person job, and Hotch decided it was best to fly you out with them since you were cleared for field work.

Spencer wasn't thrilled and he made it known, Hotch sending him looks to shut him up when he started. You didn't mind when he wasn't besides you, you could ignore it like you used to when you had similar thoughts from people on your old teams, but when Hotch paired you two together with Derek that's when it started to annoy you and it just got worse as the day went on.

"Do you ever shut up?" You asked him that night at the police station. Everyone was trying to figure where the UnSub would strike next, but all Spencer could do was dismiss everything you'd say.

The room grew silent when you finally snapped. Derek and Emily biting their lips to stop from smiling because you finally stuck up for yourself.

"I don't care if you're a genius. You don't know computers like I do. If I were the UnSub, I would strike here. It's a huge server farm with plenty of rooms full of servers to sneak this virus in. He's gone with all smaller farms before and has been building his way up. He's cocky, and he isn't going to stop until he hits the biggest farms." Spencer stood quiet, watching you as you took a deep breath in before you tilted your head at him. "Oh, and did I forget to mention, I have several degrees in Psychology and Criminal Justice along with degrees in almost every field on computer work?"

The room broke out into chuckles, Spencer remaining silent. Rossi gave you a pat on the back with a small wink. "I think you finally broke him. Good job."

The next day, you were once again paired up with Spencer, this time alone. He was quiet as you drove and didn't say a word until you were at the farm when he grabbed you and whispered to be quiet.

You looked at him shocked, he wasn't one for physical touch, especially to new people and you knew it wouldn't happen with you with how much he disliked you. He pointed at the hallway that upon inspection had droplets of blood going down it. Spencer drew his weapon and stepped in front of you as you both headed down the hall to find a security guard leaning against the wall bleeding from several gunshot wounds.

Spencer called for an ambulance and back up before saying, "I'm Doctor Reid with the FBI, what happened?""

The man struggled to sit up so he could talk. You helped him up, pressing your sweater against his wounds. "A man came in, shot me and headed to our main server room. I tried to lock down the doors before he could get in, but he shot the control booth and shot me again."

You looked up at the control panel in the small room next to you. Spencer replaced your hands on the man's stomach and nodded for you to take a look. The panel was beyond fixing, the only way into the server room was to unlock it by hacking into the lock on the door. You looked back Spencer who was holding the man up as he reassured him help was on the way.

"The only way to open the room is accessing the panel box on the door. We're going to have get to the main room." Spencer nodded and helped looked at the security guard next to him.

"Tell me how to do it, you stay here with him."

"It's not something you can just figure out, it's something I need to do."

"No, Y/L/N. It's too dangerous, you're just an office worker."

You sent him an annoyed look. "I'm more qualified than you think I am."

"You may think you're qualified, but they didn't give you a gun. So, tell me what to do."

You looked at him and sighed. There was no way he could unlock the access panel in time to stop the UnSub and arguing back and forth was stalling you both. You could either give him the information and hope he figures it out or break away from Spencer and do it yourself.

In no way did you want credit or glory in taking down an UnSub, you just wanted to stop him. You didn't want him to take more lives than he already had, and this server farm was huge, and he could easily kill hundreds if he wanted too. Wasting time was ideal in this situation. You could have your badge taken away or be removed from the team, but you knew you had to try. So, you did the opposite of what the boy genius was telling you to do, and that was to sprint out of the control room, Spencer screaming for you to come back as you headed to the main server room.

You looked at the control panel on the side wall, pulling the frame off of it before plugging in your phone to it and taking over the controls. Your brain felt like it was on fire with how hard you were trying to find the specific number pattern to help your phone out. Once you figured it out you could easily hack into main control system and open the door. But you still had the UnSub to think about. He already shot up the security guard which he hasn't done before. So, you had to figure he was by the door, gun ready for you to come in. You were a few seconds away to opening up the door when an angry Spencer came running your way, his face red with anger.

You didn't have time to think, you just did. You launched yourself at Spencer, knocking him over as the door opened and bullets flew towards you.

Spencer was stunned with your body draped over his, your sweet perfume mixing with his woodsy scent. He watched you quickly get up, somehow dodging the few bullets that was shot at you before knocking the gun out of the UnSub's hand with a roundhouse kick before swiftly taking him the ground, his face smooshed into the ground. You looked like an angel and his brain couldn't comprehend what just happened.

The sound of footsteps heading his way and JJ leaning down to check on him brought Spencer back to reality. You single handedly stopped an UnSub with a roundhouse kick while saving his life a few seconds earlier.

Hotch quickly took over from you and handcuffed the UnSub. "Go, I got this."

You nodded and looked at the hundreds of servers in front of you, analyzing which ones could contain the virus. The team watched you as you figured which ones had it and how many there were. The rest of the day was spent disarming the virus, Spencer following you around as you went holding onto whatever you gave him.

--

"Hey, Y/N." Spencer's voice came from behind you as you made your way to the plane's stairs.

You turned aorund to find him staring at you, nervousness written all over his face. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat. "Um, I just wanted to thank you for back at the server farm. You knew what needed to be done, and you were able to stop the virus before it could take another life. So good job back there."

A smile crept onto your face at how nervous he was to thank you. "No problem. I have anti-terrorist training from one of the old units I worked with. We profile and anticipate their next moves so it was pretty similar."

"You were a field agent?" He asked, as he made his way up the stairs behind you.

"Yeah, I worked on and off the field in my old units. It helps me from going stir crazy." You laughed and took a seat on the couch, Spencer joining you.

"Wow, and the karate?"

"Oh, I was a gymnast and did karate growing up."

The rest of the plane ride you spent talking with Spencer about your old units and your interests.

Emily looked over at Rossi and Derek before nodding over to the two of you. "Looks like they're going to be inseparable soon."

"Looks like you and Penelope have some competition." Rossi chuckled.

"Baby girl and I are going to have to step it up."

JJ tuned around in her seat to join the conversation. "Looks like Spence is already pretty comfortable."

The team looked over to see your head on Spencer's shoulder and his on rest on the top of yours, sleep finally catching up to you two.

Hotch sighed at the two of you. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to watch them too."

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Rock Lee - Abs Riding

a/n: this was so fun and different for me! I've never done anything with this kink before and I'm delighted to have it in my roister now. 18+ only. Est relationship, abs riding ofc.

Kinktober Masterlist

“You want to do what?” Rock Lee’s face was beet red.

“Don’t be like that.” Arms folded, you giggled as Lee shrunk away from two girls walking by, as though they would hear what you had said three seconds ago. “Lee, c’mon, it’s not like we haven’t done kinkier things.”

“Those were very different …” Lee’s face recovered to more of a maroon. How exactly they were different was beyond you; Lee had insisted on taking you in every position, every manageable way two bodies could fit together, and yet this was too much? His gentility, at times befuddled you. “This — this is a public place. Why would you want to do this? It does not sound exactly … pleasurable.”

“Don’t be silly,” You said. “Lots of girls are doing it with their guys now! Ino told me she and Sai —“

“Why am I not surprised Ino had something to do with this?” Lee’s eyes flickered past to the shogi doors to the training hall. “Lotus flower, this is …” He trailed, glancing again at the shadows manifested from the inside of the room. “Uncalled for.”

“It’ll be after hours, Lee. No one will see.” You ran an adoring finger over Lee’s bicep. “After all, aren’t you just a wee bit curious?”

“I …” The blush had returned to Lee’s face. “Well, I suppose you could say that.” A hint of a smile. “I had no idea you had such an appreciation for my physique …”

“Are you kidding?” You chuckled. “You’re a god, Lee …”

Not just empty praise; your boyfriend’s body was the envy of many. Muscles sculpted from years of training, a physique honed by discipline built on a foundation of hours, days, years.

Lee’s gaze fell to the hall’s floor. “Do you truly think that?”

“I do,” You said, coming closer, arriving somewhat level with Lee’s lips. “And I’m sure I could get off just that alone. So how about it?”

Conflict arose on Lee’s face, his eyes darting as he debated whether or not to give in to your desires. 

“Don’t tell me Rock Lee is backing down from a challenge.”

Then:

“Al — all right …” 

“That’s my handsome devil.” You smiled, satisfied you’d won. 

But not satisfied enough.

And so when the training center went dark and Lee’s explanation for your continued attendance was overtime training, Might Guy’s smile could’ve made up for the lack of light, and he left the two of you to your devices. 

“Don’t just look at me!” You told Lee, mirroring the actions you wanted him to undertake; unzipping your jacket until the swell of your breasts broke free. “Get undressed …!”

“Ah, fuck, Lee …”

Lee kept a trembling hold of your hips, eyes squeezed tight as you rocked your cunt against his abs. 

“You feel so fucking good …” Your fingers crept up to Lee’s nipples and brushed over the hard pebbles. 

Lee flushed under the enormity of your praise — something you had only a second to appreciate before your clit grazed over a ridge in Lee’s abs.

“Ah …” You bowed your head, eyes fluttering shut. You pinched both his nipples in between your fingers, gasped when Lee bucked up into you in response. You knew without knowing that if you scooted backwards even an inch your ass would be met with a tent in Lee’s training shorts, a fact that only sent you rocking harder against his chest to the soundtrack of his shallow breathing. He’s so gorgeous.

“Are you sure I — hah —  we should be doing this — hah —  in the training room?” he said. “I’m sure I could — hah — bring you much more satisfaction if we were allowed —“

As if on cue you pressed a hand against the training mat to regain your balance. “It’s okay, Lee.” The emptiness of the training room itself amplified every sound Lee fed you, every whimper and moan and sigh, setting all of them to a fine echo. He might have been worried about Guy walking in on you two, but you knew as much as he did that if he was going to remove you from him he would’ve done it already. 

Lee’s eyes were focused underneath you, cognizant of the slick moistening his abs. With a swipe over his lower lip, he pressed you down on him and began to rock you against his abs.

You sucked a breath in, your hands flying to his wrists. “Lee —“ It felt so good. He felt so good. Everything about Lee was strong, steady, hard. The bumps of his abs brushed and grated heavenly against your labia, your clit receiving most of the exquisite friction. 

“No need to be so timid,” Lee murmured, eyes half lidded in watching you thrash against him.

Said thrashing only added to your pleasure. One hand abandoned Lee’s wrist to fondle your breast. He unceremoniously rocked into your cunt and white spots erupted in your mind’s eye. 

You fell forward, your hands on his shoulders in hopes of steadying you. “Lee, fuckfuckfuck —“ 

“You’re so beautiful,” Lee said. He swept some of your juices with his finger and smeared it over your neglected tit, teasing the nipple. “So …”

“Mm — Fuck, fuck, Lee …” Another moan slipped from your lips when Lee leaned forward and caught your nipple in his mouth, surely tasting you on the wrinkled skin. 

A rhythm was set; Your cunt chased Lee’s abs, and he would meet you in the middle to complete the teasing. Arms secured around his strong neck, you bucked into him. Lee’s hand came to cup the moon of one of your ass cheeks and scoot you up higher.

“Aha!” You bit your lip at the feel of his rugged happy trail, the razor feel of Lee’s hair amplifying the friction.

“This would be — hah — quite the motivator for me,” Lee said, observing what must have been a myriad of expressions skating over your face. He swerved his hips underneath you just so and was rewarded with a whimper. “To see you cum fro — from only this. Not to mention — ah — a healthy dose for my ego …”

“Lee!” You were bouncing now, chasing your high. All the while hyperaware of the emptiness inside you, and how just inches away Lee’s clothed erection waited, occasionally poking at your spine, begging to be brought forth and fucking buried inside you. The blue balls he must have — a thought that only brought you closer —

With a firm hold on your ass, Lee helped to rock you, the endless slide of his abs under your clit more than you could bear.

“Are you going to —?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh — oh.” Lee’s moan was nestled in a shudder. You became aware of his other hand, the repetitive up-down motion of his forearm. You glanced behind you to see his cock, sitting at the crook of your ass, being stroked frantically in his fist. All the while you’d had no idea of what he was doing; at some point the sight of your writhing above him had become too much to bear and he’d freed himself to beat off.

The sight — the knowledge — went straight to your clit at the precise moment, and with three more shifts of your hips against Lee’s abs you were over the edge, cumming over his abdomen, leaving a mess of slick and juice. Behind you, Lee’s white spent was pumping from his cock, painting the clefts of your ass while his cock twitching against the plump skin there. 

Your jerks above him became sporadic, quick, mere juts as you chased the end of your orgasm to the sound of Lee’s repetitive exclamations of your name. The end of your orgasm and beyond, until the pleasure concentrated in your clit became akin to pain. 

And yet you still needed Lee’s strong arms to assist in stilling your hips, forcing you to catch your breath. He had clearly come to sooner than you had. You blinked heavy-lidded eyes down at Lee’s. He was looking up at you with adoration, a smile presumably inspired by the absurdity of it all. 

“So,” he said, voice adorably labored, “did this go as desired? I believe this was quite successful …”

I love him, I love him, I love him. You bent down to kiss Lee, the lip-to-lip contact sufficing for as much of an answer as you could deliver for a good while. After a moment, you drew back to smile at him. 

“How could it not?” You asked, brushing your nose against his. “My boyfriend always gives one-hundred ten percent.”