#its still really hard to process all of this and how everythings so different now. i miss them both so much.

[kosmicdream]

the biggest problem with my writing

it would be really difficult to explain the writing process chronologically for FFAK because its like. oh yeah mop was made as a concept in 2017 and he was made specifically to interact with dr slate after rock's death. i wanted to make a creepy janitor (a weed), former convict, that had some weird personal history with spoon. he would be determined to try to work with slate to get revenge.. i didnt know what had happened yet but at this point in the comic, im only just starting to draw scenes of them interacting. mop/nail essentially started as a side character for slate's perspective, obviously didnt stay like that but.. i mean, nail did not start as fork's fork. that just fit together somehow in a way where its impossible for me to think it otherwise, it might as well always have been that way. but nail didn't exist for the first three years of the comic and when i did actually decide on his character i basically put the spoon/rock fight on hold (again) to just draw nail/spoon scenes.

i can't say this was the smart choice or whatever its just what ended up happening. i think a lot of arc1 was built on impulsive choices like that, which comes with good and bad of course.. i dont write the same way anymore, but it still happens sometimes. gaueko/kamila were not meant to be a ship but their chemistry felt so natural to explore i decided to dive into it and let that happen as part of the comic. now in 2025, not only am i actually drawing scenes i wrote for 2017 in FFAK, but also finally drawing scenes in NRD that i also wrote in 2017. Not sure how it happened where i'd be doing that for both of them at the same time in 2025, but that's how it ended up. Its just strange how it did because its also so likely for me to end up going with a new idea impulsively (like making nail) that i put aside something else planned for the new idea (the rock/spoon fight.) Even if i eventually do return to the older scene, the order of events are totally changed. Granted, in the end i AM happy i waited to draw the spoon/rock scene, but not exactly for the narrative reasons - i just know in ch12 i was kind of like.. over-rendering everything in a way that i think would have made drawing that action scene a nightmare. by the time i got back to it in chapter 14, i had figured out how to dial things back and not over work my pages as much anymore. not that over-rendering made everything worse, but overall the experience of making pages was not as effective and draining. 

Not sure where im going with all these thoughts, but it is curious to me that I made nail/mop about 3 years into making FFAK.. which by the time FFAK was that old, a lot had happened in the story and development wise for the story. When i think about it now, its hard to conceptualize just how much I wrote/made during that time. Now i feel a lot more conservative with my ideas and plans, but thats also partly because i am always accommodating FFAK. When there wasn’t any FFAK.. that space to make a lot of things was totally open. I didn’t feel restrained. That was great! But im very different now in every aspect of the creative process. I am very restrained in many ways, of my time, my choices..ect.. I have to calculate it with everything else im already doing.. In a strange way though I think I prefer it. I make a lot better choices for the stories, but they don’t come easily or quickly which can be frustrating. Its just so different and i wonder if that differences are going to be seen and felt in this second arc as much as it is from my perspective? I don’t know.. I still havent drawn it yet, so that part is still a mystery on how it’ll be received LOL.. Just a lot i’ve been thinking about lately. My (unfinished) fairy comic is already 5 years old now and im like.. What..? but its true.. I started working on it in 2020. It does NOT feel 5 years old. Because when FFAK was 3, it already had changed so much in that time. 3 years was like a lifetime of experiences for FFAK. 5 was even more than that. Comparing comic experiences doesn’t ever really make sense logically though. They all have their own paths for growth.. And i see that more & more now especially with NRD, which I have never BEEN at a better place with creatively than I am now. Its like the love of my life since last year, which I would have never expected.. But that took me like 8 years to get to. Usually you expect the honeymoon period of a story is going to be in the early years ,when the idea is ripe and new and exciting.. And sure, NRD had that but its not like it is now. It has never felt more alive and interesting to me to work on. 

There’s been a lot of years of struggle with NRD too, where I almost felt like I was wading through the mud and not sure if it was even a story worth telling cuz it just felt like it was holding me back, reminding me too much of my life i was trying to move on and heal from. But last year i had a breakthru and now im in a sort of different struggle with it where I dont want the comic to end anymore. I will try to though, but as its getting closer to it its like a mourning process has started. It both feels impossible to end the comic because of how hard/long is to actually draw things LOL but also impossible like emotionally to let go of. I made NRD during the fallout of.. A LOT of things in my life but also specifically a break up of a long term relationship.. I’ve been single all this time and now the comic is like. My surrogate boyfriend almost? 

Im AWARE of this intense attachment to it and its like.. My comfort blanket that enables this loneliness in me to not do something different in my life to change that loneliness. Part of me feels like i CAN’T yet. I have to finish the story! But that’s not really it.. I think that if its gone, I won’t have a "reason" to enable my isolation, and by reason I mean purpose in a goal that I’m determined to accomplish that is significant to me.. Which of course, finishing a story will always be one of the biggest motivations in my life despite avoiding it so much, as much as possible in some ways to get to the point and moving on from it. Sometimes its hard being so aware, knowing myself through my own art and writing that my biggest problem is not being able to let go. 

[toxiccaves]

<3

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[amoressb]

𐙚 nerds do it best

pairings : nerd bf!jungwon x reader

synopsis : when your bf comes to class with a new look

note : this is sort of a long one !! not too sure how i feel about this one, i couldn’t get to the point honestly but i still hope you enjoy my rambling !!

You made it to your classroom a little earlier than usual but it doesn’t bother you much since you’ll be accompanied by your boyfriend jungwon. You and jungwon usually walk to school together since you guys live in the same neighborhood but different streets. He wasn’t answering your messages or calls which made you a little worried. He’s always the one to do those things but today it was the other way around and he doesn’t answer? weird. There was a possibility that he went to sleep later than usual so thats ultimately what you thought.

After getting your things out for class, you decided to go to the bathroom and stroll a bit before class since again you’re way earlier today. Soon or later you arrive back to your classroom and basically everyone is in there seats talking waiting for class to start in about a minute or two but wheres jungwon? He hasn’t taken his seat next to you, let alone even arrive since the desk and seat were both empty. You decided to send him a message again in hopes he’ll respond.

you : class is starting, where r u???

hello jungwon?

baby?

With no luck and class starting you had to put your phone away and just hope he’ll come in later. While waiting for him you were having a hard time focusing worrying about him but the sound of the classroom door drew you out of your daydream. There he was. Jungwon..but your smile on your face turned into surprise and confusion when you see he now has..BLONDE HAIR?? AND ITS CURLY???

Jungwon apologizes for coming in so late and makes his way to your seat with a cheeky yet embarrassed smile. “hi baby” he quietly giggles putting his stuff down and looks up to you only for you to be completely shocked. “alright class we have nothing left for today so you may talk quietly till your next period” the teacher says to which you immediately turn to jungwon and ask “when did this happen?!” you say as your hand reaches up to his hair and run your finger through it softly. “just last night..thats why i came in to late, i finished at around 2” he says and you notice just how tired he was with how slow he was talking and his eyes seem heavy.

“it looks really good on you tho. makes you even more cute and hot” you say completely mesmerized now that you can fully process it all. His now blond hair, glasses, his cute smile and beautiful eyes. It made you fall more in live with him. “why don’t you lay down and rest for the remainder of the class hm?” you ask him. He just hums and nods as he scoots closer to you and lays his head down on your arm thats on the desk and wraps an arm around your waist not forgetting to take off his glasses so they don’t get damaged.

The whole time he was sleeping, you were running your fingers through his hair softly and rubbing his back softly at times hoping to soothe him and make sure he gets enough sleep to make it through the rest of the day. Surprisingly tho his hair was still super soft even after possible heavy bleaching. You had to ask for his hair routine..

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t take your eyes off of jungwon. Which wasn’t hard since you were together in all your classes AND sat next to each other. “you’re staring yk and you’re gonna miss everything” jungwon says with a cheeky smile as you stare at him with heart eyes. “i can just have your notes” you say in a trance looking at him. He giggles at your state but continues taking notes knowing he will indeed give you his notes.

By the end on the day, you took basically no notes. You were completely focused on one thing and one thing only. Jungwon. The second you guys step foot outside, you immediately jumped on him and gave him a gentle yet tight hug and started peppering his face with kisses. “AHHHH you’re such a pretty boy. ily ily ily!!!!” you say and by now jungwons face was quite red. All the attention you’ve been giving him today was amazing yes. He loved it. But it was too much for his heart to handle, so it was easy for him to fold in front you. “i love you too but can it wait till we’re out of everyone else’s view?” its not that he’s embarrassed about you showing your love to him. It’s the fact that hes so red right now. Thats whats embarrassing.

Too bad for him, that didn’t stop you. You made it all the way home, hand in hand, you going on and one about how his new look was absolutely perfect on him. “stay at my house for a bit?!” you said excitedly knowing he’d say yes and end up sleeping over. Thank goodness it was friday. “when do i ever decline to that invite” he smiles as you lead him into your house all the way to your room.

You both change clothes, him always having clothes left over at your house to the point you bought extra drawers just for him for how often hes over and you changing into one of his sweatshirts and your sweatpants. You decided to stay in your room and watch a movie. Immediately you pull him onto your bed, he got closer and laid on top of you, head in the crook of your neck. “so..what do you truly think of my hair my love” he smiles tiredly sort of knowing what you’re going to say.

“omg i love it. it looks absolutely perfect on you and the glasses too. you look so cute yet so hot. I LOVE IT!!” you ramble about how good his new look is. He smiles into your neck happy you like it. “really? cuz i didn’t think it looked good at all, felt really weird” he voiced out his worries a bit. You this whole time had your fingers running through his hair, moved in closer to him if that was even possible and gave him a kiss on his head. “no i think anything you do, you will always look handsome in my eyes” you smiled into his hair. “i love you jungwon” you move some hair from his face. “i love you too pretty” he leans up a bit to give you a quick kiss on the lips then back to his position falling asleep almost immediately. Blonde jungwon will forever have you weak in the knees.

[write-tama]

"hank.. what am i feeling right now?"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ connor anderson (4k800) x officer!reader

sypnosis ; connor is very interested in an officer who just joined the police force. after being told the news that they would be joining the team, connor just had to make an acquaintance with them. anything to hear their voice.

containing ; use of you/yours and they/them pronouns! connor struggling to process emotions. hank being a proud father.

author’s note ; hihi! havent written for connor in SO long so i thought this was a cute little way of them meeting each other. connor is a

04.12.24 | 1.9k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everyone knew about the infamous RK800.

The last most developed and intelligent android produced by Cyberlife.

A machine built to hunt its prey and to always accomplish his mission.

But now?

A confused man sitting at his desk, elbows on the surface as he ran the fourth diagnostic this morning.

Connor was never really taught how to feel his emotions, considering that he was forced to compress them from the moment he was made. If he were to feel any sort of emotion, it was either to the scrap factory for him or a hard lecture from Amanda.

But Amanda was gone, and androids were free to express any emotion they pleased.

It’s been weeks since Markus hit the headlines for his famous android revolution. He worked with the government extensively to pass bills in order to settle android rights for the country. Connor, on the other hand, continued to work with the DPD as a full-on detective under the supervision of Liutenant Hank Anderson. Hank was more than just a coworker, but a father figure to Connor. And that brought Connor joy, an emotion Connor was well aquainted of.

But not the feeling he was experiencing now.

Connor couldn’t get his mind off a certain someone who had joined the team a bit before the revolution. You had joined a week prior, and honestly, you were kind of regretting it. As android and human tensions rose, you were on duty 24/7. Originally, you were supposed to start easy with basic patrol around a part of a city, but because you were so impatient in doing the “big kid stuff” you found yourself frequently in the middle of the android and human discourse. Your shifts nearly lasted twelve hours, and you would be absolutely exhausted.

Things are different now. Sure, there were still some situations between the two sides, but it was definitely peace compared to literal boycotts. You sat at your desk idly scrolling through your past cases, making sure that all the information was correct and accurate. On the other side of your desk was a tablet full of notes you had taken after some cases you had to deal with. What you didn’t notice was the android detective constantly glancing at you, watching your every move to see if maybe, at some point, you would notice him.

A loud groan echoing from the desk in front of Connor made him jump, immediately turning his attention to his lieutenant taking a seat in his chair. “Fucking hell..” Hank sighed. “Fowler does nothing but my bust my balls these days, huh?” Connor stared at his partner with his hands folded in his lap and eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“It’s nothing too serious. Fowler just wants me to take the rookie on our next homicide case. He insisted that they would be a perfect addition to the team or whatever.” Hank groaned. “Now I’m responsible for two of you fucks.”

Connor, admittedly, felt his thirium pump racing. You? As part of the team? It was almost like he could overheat and shutdown momentarily right now. “I think they would be a great addition to the team.” Connor stated, biting back from smiling. “They have an excellent track record of solving cases in an orderly and timely manner, has caught every perpretrator with their undercover skills, and had a reputation back in their training classes as one of the top students.” He explained. Hank looked over as he was slouched in his seat with arms folded across his chest.

“Jesus, Connor, you sound like some creep searching up their name on Google.” Hank scoffed, half smiling. Though this caught Connor a little off— was he being creepy? He didn’t want to leave a bad impression on you, especially now that you're about to meet for the first time. His face scrunched up in anxiety, feeling as if he made a mistake. Hank immediately took notice and sat up. “Ah— I was just joking, Connor. I’m sure you have uh.. Good intentions.” Hank reassured, though he never said he was exactly good at it.

Hank looked over to you, seeing that you were preoccupied with work despite the fact you haven’t been on a case in a few days now. Hank looked at Connor. “Well.. Why don’t you introduce yourself to them.” Hank suggested, nodding his head over to you.

Connor immediately jolted his head up, a little wide-eyed to even suggest such. “O-Of course.” Connor stuttered out. Connor never stuttered, and though Hank was in a mood after his exchange with Fowler, he certainly didn’t leave that unnoticed.

“Did you just stutter?” Hank asked, a little amused. “Are you.. Nervous?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” Connor replied as steadily as possible. “I am an android.”

“Connor.”

“Yes?” Connor replied, mindlessly.

“You’re a deviant, for fucks sake.”

“Oh.”

Connor, to avoid anymore embarassment from the man he deemed his father figure, swiftly got up and started to approach you. Hank watched in pure amusement, not even wanting to stop the boy from probably embarassing himself even further, but at least Hank had some faith in him. He is Detroit’s best god damn detective.

“Hello, Officer (l/n). My name is Connor. It is nice to meet you.” Connor said, putting his hand out for a shake. You looked up from your computer screen only to be met with the most chocolate eyes you’ve ever had the privilege of being in the prescence of. He smiled politely, but behind that smile he thanked Elijah that androids could not sweat, otherwise you would’ve felt the claminess of his palm.

You took his hand and shook it firmly. “A pleasure to make your aquaintance. My name is (y/n).” You smiled generously, and wow, did Connor felt like his pump couldn’t get any faster.. He cleared his throat before darting his eyes to the unoccupied chair that sat next to your desk.

“May I?” Connor asked, gesturing towards the seat.

“Of course, I’m not doing much anyway.” You nodded. Connor took a seat, and for some reason, he struggled to even maintain his balance as he sat himself down. He nearly had to think about how to fold his hands before placing them firmly on his laps and looking at you. Thankfully, you barely realized any sort of struggle as you looked away to take a swig of your morning coffee.

“So..” you said, clasping your hands. “Am I in trouble or anything?” you joked. Connor immediately shot his head up, worried he had made the wrong impression.

“Oh, no— I—” Before Connor could sputter out an explanation, you tilted your head a little and started laughing.

“Relax! I was just kidding!” You playfully waved off. Connor’s shoulders immediately relaxed as a breath he didn’t even know he was holding back escaped his lips. You looked at him curiously, a smile still resting on your face.

“I’m sorry. Usually, I am not like this.” He said, shaking his head a little in embarassment. He was always on his A game and constantly prepared. Why were you the reason for this disruption. “I.. Uh..” He couldn’t think of anymore to say. Suddenly, he got a message through his LED.

NEW MESSAGE:

HANK: tell them u think theyre pretty.

Connor blinked a bit, registering the text message. Hank was at a perfect view watching this unfold. The back of your head was visible but he could see all of Connor’s reactions, who desperately tried to maintain a polite smile.

“I think you’re very pretty, (y/n).” Connor complimented.

“Oh— ah—” A subtle blush began to form on your cheeks as your eyes widen a little, not expecting a compliment from a handsome android such as Connor. “Why thank you, Connor. I wasn’t expecting that as our first conversation.” You chuckled a little. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Thirium was rushing through his circuits and to his cheeks. The faintest color of blue appeared dusted on his face. “Thank you.” He maintained a calm, neutral voice. They stared at each other for a minute, sort of registering the sort of corny first conversation the two of you had.

“Ah.. I almost forgot to mention.” Connor snapped back to reality. “I came here to introduce myself sfter I heard that you were joining our team on our next investigation. It’s good to make an aquaintance with our future team member.” Connor smiled politely.

“Why thank you. I am very excited to work with you and Lieutenant Anderson.” You nodded. “Though I will miss working with Gavin and Chris’ team.”

Ah, that’s right. You used to work with Gavin. It almost left a bad taste in Connor’s mouth knowing that Gavin probably spat some awful opinions about him to you. Though from the looks of it, you were enjoying your conversation with him which eased him.

“I promise we will a provide a welcoming and safe space in our team, and of course, to make sure you don’t come into harms way.” Connor assured. Though he was mainly promising this to you personally. God forbids Connor seeing you get hurt.

“Why thank you, Connor.” You said, tilting your head. Connor was rather intriguing to you— an android acting this way around you. His LED constantly switched between yellow and blue as if he was making sure to process every word you uttered. Yet he was so human— he would scratch the back of his neck, fidget with his fingers, and shuffle a bit in his seat. You would think someone as advanced as him would at least be able to have a composure, but he was different. It was something you admired about him.

“(l/n), in my office!” Captain Fowler called from the balcony of his room. You looked over to Connor before sighing.

“Well, boss is calling me. I’ll talk to you afterwards?” You suggested as you stood from your seat.

“Of course.” Connor replied, shielding his excitement. He stood up from his chair as well. “I’d be happy to talk again, (y/n).”

“Likewise.” You winked. With that, you left your desk and headed straight to Fowler’s office. Connor stood shellshocked. Did you just.. Wink at him?! Connor’s eyes slowly drifted to Hank, who was chuckling heartily. He gave Connor an assuring thumbs up as Connor made his way back to their desks.

“You’d be a shit detective if this is how you acted all the time.” Hank snickered. Connor grinned a little before taking a seat back at his desk.

“I know.” Connor sighed, leaning a little back in his chair. He at you through the glass walls, noticing your upright posture and the way you listened intently to Captain Fowler’s words. He looked over to Hank before thinning his lips.

“Lieutenant?” Connor asked.

“What is it, son?”

“What am I.. Feeling right now?” Connor asked, a little lost on how to explain it. “I can only think about them— only envision them when I close my eyes. I get nervous and its like my programming has reduced to 0s and 1s.” He sighed, hell, even a little frustrated that you had this affect on him.

Hank with a wide smile, shook his head and looked at Connor with a knowing stare. Connor looked up, both lost while desperate for an answer and maybe even a cure. Hank sat up and made sure to look at Connor right in the yes.

“Connor,” Hank sighed, grinning. “Son, that feeling your experiencing is called love. And your plastic ass better get used to it.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thank you so much for reading towards the end ! im sorry if its a little messy-- i quickly had to post this before hanging out w some friends but i just wanted to get this out of the way rq! reblogs, replies, and even likes are so so appreciated <3

[headkiss]

hellooo, hope everything's okay with you:) i was thinking of a hotch request, of bau!reader being "his favourite" in the team (in a way that the team can see he has a soft spot for her). maybe the members of the team seeing little interactions between them two and noticing it <33 i just *loved* the one you wrote about hotch helping her in a bau party, and would love to see more of hotch protecting her and being soft with her, during the jobs as well!! thank you so muchhhh, hope you have a good day x

hiii thank u so much baby!!! this has been in my drafts since september i’m so sorry for the delay!! i hope this is okay <3 | 0.6k of fluff

Aaron Hotchner was never one to play favorites. He’s always loved his team, has always felt fond towards its members in one way or another, but none ever seemed to outrank the other.

Until you.

You’d joined the BAU as a temporary replacement, and then, you just stayed. You fit right in, which wasn’t hard to do considering how welcoming everyone had been, but it still felt like the kind of luck that isn’t easy to come by.

Hotch has felt a sort of pull towards you ever since you stepped into the bureau, your shirt a little wrinkled, smile nervous and beautiful. He’s grown to feel for you in a way that doesn’t compare to how he feels towards the others. It’s completely different; incomparable.

Even now, over a year since you’ve joined the team, Hotch can’t help but feel like he has to protect you, has to make sure you’re okay.

The others know it, too.

Derek has taken to doing his very own Hotch impression, a lovestruck version of him, that is. Spencer tells Aaron daily that he should just tell you how he feels. Emily likes to say, ‘you’re going soft, Hotchner.’ And all he can do is fight a smile and shake his head.

Even now, in some town in Indiana, Aaron can’t help but look for you in the busy station. It’s early in the morning, he’s got two cups of coffee in hand. One for him, the other for you.

“Aw, thanks, you shouldn’t have,” Derek says, reaching for one of the coffees.

“You know that’s not for you, Morgan.”

Pretending to be hurt, Derek walks off towards Spencer, a ‘can you believe him?’ look on his face. Hotch vaguely registers Spencer’s voice saying something like, “I believe that’s what they call favoritism.”

Then, the conversation goes quiet for Aaron’s ears, because he sees you. You’ve got a sweater on today, the sleeves long enough that only your fingertips poke out. His feet are walking towards you before his brain processes it.

Before he reaches you, an officer from the station does. “Hey, miss, reporters aren’t allowed inside.”

You take a step back, eyebrows furrowing at the man questioning your presence, “I’m not a reporter. They cleared me at the door.”

“Nice try, sweetheart, I’ve heard it all before-“

“Agent,” Hotch steps in, trying not to squeeze the coffee cups too hard. “Good morning, coffee for you.”

Your gaze softens as soon as it flicks from the officer and over to Hotch. Your fingers brush when you grab the drink from him, sparks shooting up your arm.

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.”

“Is there a problem here, officer?” Aaron asks, tilting his head.

“No, no, sir. Thank you for coming down and helping out.”

“It’s what we do,” Hotch emphasizes the ‘we,’ like he’s making sure the officer knows that you’re as much a part of this as he is.

The officer nods and walks off, leaving the two of you as alone as you can be in the station.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you say, nudging your elbow against his arm gently. “I totally could’ve handled it, though.”

He smiles because you’re the only one on the team who calls him Aaron. He likes it that way.

“I know, honey.” And he’s the only one who calls you honey. “But I didn’t really feel like explaining why one of my agents punched an officer today.”

“I was not going to punch him!” You laugh, your morning getting better by the second. “Maybe berate him a little. That’s all.”

“Sure it is.”

When you and Aaron walk into the conference room where the rest of the team is waiting, you’re met with the same type of stare from all of them. Knowing, expecting, secretly admiring.

You duck your head and take a sip of your coffee, forever grateful that you joined this team, that you found these people, that Aaron is beside you where you always seem to want him to be.

“They’re hopeless,” Emily whispers to Spencer.

Aaron’s too busy looking at your face to hear.

[foodfightnovelization]

ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight

Holy chips! It's an exciting time to be a Foodfight! fan, because ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight is finally out! This really is THE definitive documentary on the insanity behind the movie, and it finally answers the question of just what was going on behind the scenes during production. Since I helped out with research (and I even get a short line of dialogue at 45:19) I've already seen everything that was shown off, but had to keep quiet until all the interviews were conducted and the documentary was finished. But now it's out and everything has been made public, the cat's out of the bag (the Fat Cat Burglar?) and I can talk about all the production material that's been shared.

Before I get into any of that though, I'd highly recommend you watch the documentary for yourself. It's insanely well researched and put together, and having worked together with Ziggy Cashmere (the documentary's creator) I know how hard he dedicated himself towards making this all possible. If it weren't for him, the most interesting Foodfight! discovery would've been finding the novelization, and we would have never gotten any real insight into how this movie came to be. It's also a documentary that really speaks for itself- I don't want to say too much about what it reveals since it's all expressed far better through its narrative and the interviews with people who actually worked on the project. My favorite is the interview with texture artist Mona Weiss- she tells such horrifying stories about how she was treated by Larry and other crewmembers, yet does it all with a sense of humor that makes it clear she's enjoying getting to talk about her crazy experiences. It's clear Foodfight! was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, and there's nobody to blame for that but Larry Kasanoff himself. The movie was rotten from the top down and despite the countless talented animators and artists working on it, nothing could fix the fact that it was fundamentally mismanaged in the worst way possible. I think the quote from producer George Johnsen summarizes it best: "Foodfight! was a good idea that unfortunately lost its way during production. The technology, the art, and the direction were not in sync. Many very talented people gave their all to make the picture, but more understanding of process from the top was needed for it to succeed."

But if you saw the documentary, you already know all that, right? So instead, let's talk about the behind-the-scenes material that's finally been shared! You can find everything I'll talking about HERE on archive.org-

It's worth following the link and checking it out for yourself- there's so much it'd impossible to discuss everything. Artwork, storyboards, bloopers, models, a nude render of Lady X, an interview with Larry Kasanoff, the list goes on and it's still being updated! Despite the documentary already being out, people who worked on the movie are continuing to share new material! It's pretty incredible- for the past year I've ran this blog all I've really had to discuss are two tie-in books, and now there's so much Foodfight! material I can't even keep up with it.

I mean LOOK at all this, isn't it fantastic? The character art by Jim George showing off just how much better these designs originally were, the countless environments showing off just how stunning Marketropolis could've looked as well as the strength of the core idea "what if a supermarket came to life at night", and insanely detailed storyboards for a 7-minute pitch reel that was used to sell the movie to investors. Normally, I'd be ALL OVER this because it's all just incredible, but there's something far, FAR more fascinating than any of it.

There are even multiple drafts of the script (one from 2005 and one from 2007 respectively) and normally I'd be insanely fascinated by those too, making extremely detailed posts explaining the differences between the drafts and how they compare to the novelization, but there's something else that was found that blows ALL of this out of the water and is easily one of the most monumental lost media discoveries of ALL TIME.

That's right, a rough cut of the ENTIRE movie from 2005 has been found, containing nearly ALL the completed animation from earlier on in production. I mean, that's mindblowing right? We first got sent this around a month ago, a little while before the documentary came out, and I literally stopped everything I was doing at work to just sit and watch this. This is the closest we're ever going to get to the "original" version of Foodfight! after all- only 7 minutes of footage was ever actually made before they switched to mocap, made solely for the aforementioned pitch reel, and this workprint contains practically all of it! On top of that there are some great storyboards in here, as well as some truly hilarious ones cobbled together from 3D renders, and the plot is far better than what we ended up with, a lot of the more inappropriate jokes being absent. This rough cut is actually pretty similar to the novelization in that regard, and it also contains scenes that we'd previously only read about in there.

For example, in the novelization there's a snowmobile chase through the mountains, with Brand X soldiers on snowmobiles and a heavy avalanche close behind. This scene was completely left out of the movie itself, but in this workprint it's here! ALL the previously novelization-exclusive scenes are included, and this rough cut is seemingly based on an even earlier draft of the script than that- here Brand X are still defeated by a flood, whereas by the time of the novelization it'd been changed to a lightning storm. There are SO many exciting differences in this workprint, the snippets of original animation we get to see are SO good, and it's SO much better than the movie itself that I think it by far deserves the crown as the DEFINITIVE version of Foodfight! There's so much in it I want to discuss, that there's no way I can fit it all into this one post...so stay tuned, because in the next few days I'll be doing a FULL analysis of the 2005 workprint, pointing out all the extra brand mascots not in the finished film, and generally just gushing about how amazing it is.

I mean, this is it. Just take it all in for a second- the original footage was considered lost media for over a decade, and now it's practically been found in its entirety, embedded in an early cut of the whole movie...isn't that just phenomenal? All the mysteries have been unraveled, all the questions have been answered, and now we can relax, take a deep breath, and watch Foodfight!...the REAL Foodfight! Make sure to enjoy it, and join me next time for my analysis!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[wifeyoozi]

Maybe we are soulmates

The idea of soulmates always felt a bit too fantastical for you, but right now, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. The way Jihoon had known exactly what you needed, without you even having to ask, made you feel a connection that went beyond words. (fluff // comfort ,, mentions of being soulmates but not a soulmate au)

The sound of your keys jingling as you unlocked the door was the only noise you could focus on as you trudged inside your apartment, your body heavy with exhaustion. The day had been relentless, and though you normally found solace in coming home and taking care of the house, tonight was different. The mere thought of scrubbing dishes or cooking dinner felt like an insurmountable task.

You paused just inside the door, taking a deep breath. Normally, the thought of seeing Jihoon’s relaxed face when he came home made all your efforts worth it. But tonight, your feet ached, your head pounded, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed.

Yet, as you stepped into the living room, you were greeted with a surprising sight. The house was immaculate, the usual clutter nowhere to be seen. The floor was spotless, and the cushions on the couch were perfectly arranged. You took a few more steps, and that’s when the scent hit you—your favorite dish, its aroma wafting through the air, pulling you toward the kitchen.

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no way Jihoon could’ve known how drained you felt before you even walked through the door. He was always the last to come home, often later than you, yet here he was, clearly having done all of this.

“Jihoon?” you called out, your voice tinged with confusion and a hint of awe.

Jihoon appeared from the kitchen, a warm smile lighting up his face. His apron was still tied around his waist, and he had a towel draped over his shoulder, as if he’d just finished cleaning up. “Hey,” he greeted you cheerfully, “You’re home earlier than I thought.”

You blinked at him, still processing what you were seeing. “How… how did you…?”

He chuckled at your confusion and walked over to you, taking your bag and setting it down by the door. “I got off work early today,” he explained casually, “So I thought I’d get everything done before you got home. I figured it’d be nice to have more time together tonight.”

His words warmed you from the inside out, but you still felt a lingering surprise. “But how did you know I had a rough day? I didn’t even message you about it.”

Jihoon’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t know,” he admitted, “But I just thought it might be nice to switch things up. And, well�� maybe I had a feeling.”

You stared at him for a moment, the exhaustion in your body suddenly feeling a little lighter. “A feeling?”

He shrugged, almost sheepishly. “I don’t know… maybe we’re just in sync like that.”

A laugh escaped you, and you shook your head, leaning into him. “You’re making us sound like soulmates.”

Jihoon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe we are,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and comforting.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into his embrace. The idea of soulmates always felt a bit too fantastical for you, but right now, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. The way Jihoon had known exactly what you needed, without you even having to ask, made you feel a connection that went beyond words.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. “But I’m really, really glad you did.”

Jihoon gently tilted your head up, looking into your eyes. “I wanted to,” he said simply. “You take care of me all the time, and I know how hard you work. It’s only fair that I do the same for you when I can.”

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Jihoon leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender, as if he was pouring all his feelings into that one moment. When he pulled back, he was smiling again. “Now, come on, dinner’s ready. You just sit back and relax tonight, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth settle in your chest that had nothing to do with the food waiting for you. As Jihoon led you to the table, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were soulmates after all.

Even if it was a little too good to be true, you liked believing it—because Jihoon was your person, the one who understood you in ways no one else did, even when you didn’t have to say a word. And tonight, that was enough.

[whosscruffylooking]

hiiiiii, i would love to do a writing request about paul mescal x wife reader, paul and the reader have already had 4 children, but this last one was born about 3 months ago (it really doesn't matter to me), and the reader feels very insecure about her postpartum body, since maybe she has a little more fat in her stomach, legs, hips, etc,. She also feels very insecure about having her breasts much bigger and saggy, and she also has stretch marks all over her body. and paul makes her feel better, like saying "that she should feel proud since she gave him 4 beautiful babies" 😭😭😭 idk🥺

Of course, love! I was so happy to write this. Creating life is incredible, and the way a body changes during that process is proof of its strength and resilience. Those changes are a beautiful reminder that you protected and brought a new life into the world. Thank you for this prompt—it was an honor to write. Hopefully this is to your liking, if not, let me know!

The house was quiet except for the gentle hum of the baby monitor on your nightstand. Three months had passed since your fourth child was born, and while you adored every moment of motherhood, you couldn’t shake the self-consciousness that lingered every time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your body had changed—your stomach was softer, your hips wider, your breasts fuller and heavier, and stretch marks painted over your skin like delicate brushstrokes. Though you tried to dismiss the intrusive thoughts, they crept in during quiet moments like this one.

Paul entered the bedroom, fresh from tucking the older three kids into bed. His dark curls were still slightly damp from the evening shower, and he had that easy, tired smile that never failed to make your chest ache with love.

“You alright, love?” he asked, his Irish lilt soft as he approached the bed.

You glanced down at yourself, pulling your oversized shirt down to cover the curve of your stomach before shrugging. “Yeah, just tired.”

Paul didn’t buy it. He sat beside you, the bed dipping under his weight, and took your hand in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You’ve been quiet today. What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words without sounding ridiculous. Finally, you sighed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

Paul frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. “What do you mean?”

“My body,” you admitted, gesturing vaguely toward yourself. “It’s different now. It’s… softer, and there are stretch marks everywhere, and my—” you faltered, swallowing the lump in your throat, “my boobs are huge and saggy. Not to mention they hurt like hell. Everything kind of hurts. I just don’t feel… attractive anymore.”

Paul’s expression softened instantly, and he shifted closer, cupping your cheek with one warm, calloused hand. “Y/N,” he began gently, his voice steady and sincere. “You should feel proud of this body. It gave me four beautiful babies—our babies. How could I see anything but beauty in that?”

Your throat tightened as his words broke through the wall of self-doubt. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, shaking your head. “I know, but… I look in the mirror, and I don’t recognize myself. It’s hard to feel proud when all I see is someone I don’t know anymore.”

Paul’s eyes searched yours, filled with unwavering love and determination. “Y/N, listen to me,” he said firmly but tenderly. “You didn’t just grow our children; you gave them life. You carried them, protected them, nurtured them. Do you know how incredible that is? How incredible you are?”

He took your hands in his, squeezing them as if to drive the point home. “Your body is a map of everything we’ve built together. Every stretch mark, every curve, every soft spot—it’s proof of the love and life we’ve made. And I’ll never stop being in awe of you.”

You felt tears rolling down your cheeks now, unable to hold them back. “But I’m not the same,” you whispered.

“And I don’t want you to be,” Paul countered, his voice breaking slightly with emotion. “You’re stronger, more beautiful, more everything. I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”

He reached for your shirt, hesitating for a moment before looking at you. “Can I?” he asked softly.

You nodded, nervous but trusting him completely. Paul gently lifted the fabric, exposing the soft curves of your stomach, the stretch marks etched across your skin. His fingertips traced over them reverently, his touch sending warmth through you.

“Do you know what I see?” he asked, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “I see the woman who’s given me everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I see the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. And I see the love of my life.”

His words were too much, too overwhelming, and you let out a soft, shaky laugh through your tears. “Paul…”

He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach, then to your hips, then to the marks on your skin. “Every part of you is perfect to me, Y/N. Every. Single. Part.”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you how incredible you are if that’s what it takes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly again, this time out of sheer gratitude. You reached for him, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss, one that held every bit of love and appreciation you couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his lips.

Paul smiled, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. “Always, my love. Now, let me hold my gorgeous wife and tell you how lucky I am.”

And as he held you close, whispering soft affirmations into your ear, the insecurities began to fade, replaced by the steady, unshakable truth of his love for you.

[reidsaurora]

hil! so im a little nervous to send this in and confused how exactly to request but im gonna try anyway

the summer celebration and the banner is so cute! could i please request for you to write a "Malibu Dream House - domestic!au" with Reid and fem!reader? Spencer and reader are expecting (unless you're uncomfy with pregnancy, then they can just be a couple that's moving) and relocating, buying a home together. and the team comes over for a house warming party during well obviously the summer! just like cute fluffy dynamics between everyone. Rossi is protecting the bbq like it’s his baby and ofc Ms. Penelope Garcia is excited at the possibilities of the couple’s future

i hope this isn’t too boring a request, and of course no pressure to write this, i just hope you’re having a good day and hope summer treats you well 🩵

hi, lovey! sorry this took so long! as usual, i don't have an excuse alshalsjsksh 💀 hope u enjoy though!

"With A Little Help From Our Friends" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Reader is feeling apprehensive about the end of her pregnancy, Spencer reminds her that really all you need is a little help from your friends.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1,846

Content Warning: pregnancy stuff, a little sexual humor at the end, food talk, small mention of a gun (this is CM after all), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: it definitely didn't take me three different attempts to write something without scrapping it...

Originally Written: 07/23/2024 through 07/27/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (love u my editor 4 life)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration can be found here!

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Crashing Waves - angst requests -> Sun Kissed - fluff requests

To say the last couple months had been busy would've been an understatement.

Sure, when you and Spencer first saw that little blue plus sign, you went into full-blown parent mode. It started with some baby clothes, then some bottles, then the crib… But, entering the last trimester of your pregnancy, that's when things started to get real.

In the process of getting ready, you'd acquired enough things for a potential army of babies, making Spencer's apartment—originally intended for one resident—feel even tinier than the baby you were soon to birth. So what was Spencer's genius solution? Move into a new house, because he simply couldn't get rid of his baby's things before she'd even arrived.

And that was how you found yourselves heavily pregnant and moving into your new three-bedroom Cape Cod in the quiet town of Cabin John, Maryland. Perhaps you should've found somewhere that wouldn't require waiting until your eighth month of pregnancy to move in, but with its charming blue-and-white exterior and flower boxes on nearly every window, it was hard to say no to the place.

The last week had been spent moving everything in, not much thanks to you but thanks to your friends/colleagues of the BAU. Pretty much everyone had been in and out of your home over the week, but Spencer still insisted that the two of you should throw a housewarming party, and who were you to say no to that cute smile and big brown eyes? You only hoped your daughter wouldn't inherit them, or else you might just take that two letter word out of your vocabulary altogether.

Now you were here, in the kitchen supply aisle of the grocery store, contemplating what paper plates to use for the party.

“I really don't think anyone's going to care about the design, love,” Spencer attempted to reassure you. “Just so long as they aren't flimsy.”

Your pregnancy brain was basically ignoring him at this point though. “What if I buy the wrong ones and they think they're ugly?”

Spencer pouted, though he placed a supportive hand on your back. “How long have you known my colleagues? And how many times has someone said something mean about something so miniscule?”

“There was that one time Rossi said he didn't like that flower arrangement I put on the coffee table.”

“In his defense, he said they were the same colors that his second wife had at their wedding,” he explained, then chuckled. “He was probably just having some PTSD.”

Eventually, after a few more minutes of contemplation, you decided on the basic white ones, Spencer reassuring you all the while that they were perfect. Then, it was onto cutlery, which was just another thing for your brain to pick apart. You knew it was silly, truly, but you just couldn't get yourself out of your own head about even the most miniscule things.

On top of that, it seemed as though your husband hadn't missed your shift in behavior. Sometimes it sucked that he read people for a living.

“Honey,” he started, his tone sounding oddly like the word he'd just said, “are you sure this is about paper plates and plastic forks?”

Normally, you'd be able to put up a fight with your brain, push down the thoughts and explain later in the comfort of your home. But pregnant you was much different than regular you, and it only took that one question to have you tearing up.

You leaned into his shoulder, hoping to suppress the sounds of your cries. “What if I make all the wrong choices and the baby hates me?”

His lips met the crown of your head for a gentle kiss, followed by a soft sigh. “I promise she'll love you. You're going to be the most wonderful mother any little girl could ask for.”

“But what if I buy her the wrong diapers and she yells at me?”

Spencer gave you that signature pout, and a small swarm of butterflies set off in your belly. “I doubt she'll be that picky over them, but if she is, we just buy her new ones and make it better.”

You couldn't help but snicker through your tears. “I feel like that's awful advice, but I think I get what you mean.”

“C'mere,” he mumbled, pulling you in as closely as possible. Your bump had made it hard for hugs to happen, but that definitely didn't stop your husband from trying. “You're going to make a mistake or two. It's in our nature. I will most likely make a lot more than one or two mistakes-”

“Not true. You're gonna be the best dad in history.”

“And you will be the best mom in history. It's going to be a learning curve for all three of us. But, when they say ‘it takes a village,’ at least we know we have our village. JJ will be there to help with all your new mom questions and Hotch will be there to help me build her first treehouse. Kate will be there when she starts playing with makeup and we start to feel old.”

You giggled into his shoulder, earning you a small smile. “Penny will be there just to spoil her.”

“Emily will be there just to teach her how to flip someone off,” he snickered, the sound vibrating against your skin. Then, he was pulling you up for a long but sweet kiss, the taste of his morning coffee taking over your senses. “We've got this. You've got this.”

And instantly, you were feeling better. You knew Spencer knew magic, but sometimes you swore he was a wizard with the way he could change things just by saying one thing.

—

The second you pulled into the driveway, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Spence, why is the gate open?” You only hoped he had a reasonable explanation.

Unfortunately, his answer was not at all what you were hoping to hear. “I'm not sure. I don't think I left it open.”

Abandoning your party supplies in the car, the two of you headed toward the gate, Spencer insisting you and the baby stay behind him. As an FBI agent, he knew never to go anywhere without a gun, so luckily he at least had some way to protect you and himself if it came to that.

With one hand, he pushed open the cracked gate, the other lingering near his firearm just in case. The two of you quietly and slowly made your way into the backyard. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, it felt like it would jump right out of your ribcage. Spencer managed to remain his normal, calm self, but you couldn't say the same.

And then, just as you rounded the corner: “SURPRISE!”

Both you and Spencer nearly jumped out of your skin at the screams, though you both quickly realized what was going on.

Pink and white balloon arrangements, one table filled to the brim with gifts and another covered with various snack trays and drinks. If it wasn't clear this was a baby shower, the sea of people in pink outfits would've been the giveaway.

Penelope was first to greet you, her pink sundress bouncing as she practically ran to meet you. “You don't understand how hard it was to keep this from you,” she said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Your arms flew around her neck, and hers wrapped around what they could of your stomach. “What is all this?” Now you were on the verge of tears with her.

“Papa Rossi wanted to throw you guys a shower and of course we had to surprise you.”

You let go of Penelope and turned to Rossi, wearing his normal attire, except for his normal white button-down had been replaced with a pink one. “Dave, you old softie!”

His arms wrapped around your neck for a small hug, and he left a peck to each of your cheeks. “I love you, kid, but don't call me old.”

You laughed as he let go, and immediately he walked over to the grill, like that was where he belonged. Then, you and Spencer were off to make the rounds.

Spencer wore the biggest smile you'd ever seen, aside from the one he had when you'd first shown him the pregnancy test. Even though you'd been with Spencer for nearly a decade, you still felt butterflies and goosebumps when he smiled, when he laughed, when he called you ‘love’.

“He's gonna be the best,” Penelope said, her eyes following yours.

You smiled before turning back to her. “Yeah, he really will.”

Just then, Luke and Spencer headed your way, Spencer moving to stand behind you. Immediately, you leaned into him, and he took your belly in his hands, relieving some of the pressure there. “Why were you staring?” he teased in your ear.

“I just think you're pretty,” you giggled, the sound like music to your husband's ears.

Luke snickered at the interaction, though he tossed an arm around his girl, giving Penny a quick kiss on the head. “By the way, you guys should have babies more often. This woman has been cooking enough to feed an army. She left like ten casseroles in the fridge for you guys.”

“Penelope,” Spencer gave her a soft look of something close to disapproval, though you knew he didn't mean it. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You and Mama are gonna need something to eat, and I know you guys are not going to feel like cooking after being up with a newborn all night.”

And it was time for another hug, the tears from earlier actually falling this time. You weren't sure what it was about pregnancy, but you'd realized it had made you awfully touchy. But you didn't care, especially today, when you were in the arms of some of your best friends.

“Hey, Penny,” Luke said as he watched the encounter, a tone of slyness to his words. “Maybe we should hop on the train next. Then you'll have a reason to make that breakfast casserole more often.”

She pulled away from the hug before turning to her boyfriend with probably the most serious look you'd ever seen her wear. “Luke Santiago Alvez, if you bring your man-juices anywhere near me, I will rip off your thingy and then feed it to you.”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips. Then, you turned to Spencer, who was just confused. “Did she just call it a thingy?”

“Did she just say man-juices?” His sentence elicited giggles from all four of you.

It was then that “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles started to play on the speaker, no doubt having been taken over by Hotch. But as the song played, you couldn't help but notice the sea of people all here for your baby. Sure, you were terrified. But you knew you'd get through it: with just a bit of help from your friends.

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @mmmeademaaa @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike @therealrazortai

[taehyungsgrowl]

birthday cake

hi! it is one of my best friends birthday today (happy birthday, reyna ily) and so here is a little yoongi birthday fic 🩷

in which yoongi decides to make a cake for his gf…

just blushy yoongi. fluff. slightly suggestive. no smut!

Yoongi found himself standing in the middle of his tiny kitchen, apron tied around his waist, frantically flipping through a baking book. He hadn’t baked in God knows how long, but today was different—today was Y/N's birthday, and he was determined to surprise her with the perfect cake.

He glanced at the clock, nodding to himself—plenty of time before she’d be back. No need to worry. After all, how hard could making a birthday cake be?

He regretted those thoughts instantly, rushing the first layer of cake back to the counter—if you could call it rushing. The kitchen was a disaster: eggshells scattered like confetti, flour dusting every surface (mixing in with the few strands of gray that nestled between his black hair), half-used sticks of butter, and sugar in places sugar should never be. "Ah, ah, ah..." His fingers danced under the baking tray, trying to avoid the heat, even through his thick baking mitts.

He shoved everything he could into the sink, trying to make room for the first cake layer. This couldn’t be the only way to do it—he had to have missed a step. What do you mean he had to repeat the whole process for the second layer? He muttered curses under his breath. Why hadn’t he thought to grab a second pan? Now he’d have to clear the one he was using, then make the frosting, decorate the cake, clean up, decorate the house, and still somehow look presentable. Where had the time gone? Y/N would be home any minute, and the kitchen looked like a war zone—with no cake in sight.

Yoongi's phone vibrated in his back pocket, taking him out of his zone. Her face flashed on his screen from the incoming call. Panic started to set it. She'd have to be on her way if she was calling! He tried to get it together and answered the call. "Hi honey," she could hear the smile in his voice, "Happy Birthday."

"Yoongi, you've already wished me a happy birthday," she laughed, adjusting the tote bag on her shoulder as she walked down the street.

Yoongi’s phone was wedged between his shoulder and neck, his head tilted just enough to keep it in place. His hands were busy, stirring the cake mixture as he tried to work the clumps out. "Yeah, I know I already said it, but I mean it. I want you to have the happiest day—every day, really. How was lunch with your sister?" He was proud of how carefree he could sound despite the anxiety this cake was giving him.

"Great! I'm actually calling you to tell you that she's taking me to go pick out my gift so I'll be back at a little later than expected -"

"He'll be fineee," he heard Y/N's sister whine in the background.

"Tell her I say hello too," he chuckled, "And not to keep you too late -she has to share." He couldn't stop the pout from forming on his lips, but he was also started making a mental list of ways he could thank Y/N's sister for buying him time. It was gonna be okay!

He quickly resumed his work, moving through the kitchen at the speed of light (or so it felt - but he had to keep stopping to check the instructions and recipe).

Yoongi carefully tried to lift the first cake layer, hoping he could slide it onto the cooling rack without incident. But as he moved it, the spatula slipped, and the edge of the cake tipped over the side. The layer landed with a soft thud on the counter, its corner now crumpled and slightly bent.

“C’mon, don’t fall apart now,” he muttered, his heart rate picking up. He gently tried to lift the cake, but the soft edges were starting to crumble under his touch.

With a frustrated sigh, he quickly steadied the layer, praying it wouldn’t collapse entirely. The last thing he needed was for this to fall apart before he even got to the frosting.

He glanced nervously at the clock—Y/N would be home soon, and this wasn’t exactly the picture of a perfect cake. "This is fine," he told himself, wiping his hands on his apron. “It’s fine. I’ll fix it.”

He gently placed the cake back on the rack, willing the crumbling edges to hold. It wasn’t perfect, but it was salvageable. At least, he hoped it was. Frosting fixes everything, right?

After more work, Yoongi stepped back and looked at the scene with a small, exhausted sigh. The cake wasn’t perfect, but it was finished—mostly intact and topped with a layer of frosting that, while not “artistic,” at least covered the obvious flaws. He gave a quick glance at the clock again. Y/N would be home soon!

He quickly grabbed a rag, scrubbing down the surfaces, and tossing used utensils into the sink. He kept glancing over at the cake, praying that it would stay intact for a few more minutes. It wasn’t perfect, but he was determined to make it look like he had it all together.

His mind was already racing to the next task. The house. He had to make it look less like a disaster and more like a cozy birthday surprise. Yoongi hurried through the living room, straightening the pillows on the couch and turning on her favorite candle. He didn’t have time for perfection, but he could at least make the place feel welcoming. He placed the happy birthday banner up on the wall. The fresh bouquet of flowers gently placed in a vase. It was all coming along!

The door opened just as Yoongi finished adjusting the last of the decorations. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly wiped his hands on the apron, glancing around the living room one last time to make sure everything was in place. It wasn’t perfect—there were still a few flour smudges on the counter, and he hadn't quite managed to get the place spotless—but it would have to do.

He opened the door with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up as he saw Y/N standing there her face lighting up when she spotted him.

“Happy birthday!” he exclaimed, his voice a little too loud, a little too eager. The words came out with so much enthusiasm, but that was fine—he was just relieved she was finally home.

Y/N smiled back at him, her eyes softening in that way they always did when she looked at him. "You didn’t have to do all this," she said, looking at the decorations and then back at him. "It looks amazing."

Yoongi’s heart fluttered at the compliment, but before he could say anything more, Y/N’s eyes flickered down, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Uh… Yoongi,” she started, her gaze narrowing in on the corner of his mouth. “I think you missed a spot.” She reached up and gently wiped her thumb across his lip, picking up a small smudge of chocolate frosting that he hadn’t noticed. Without missing a beat, placed the thumb in her mouth sucking it clean, slow and deliberate.

Yoongi’s face went red as he stepped back, blinking in surprise. "What? Oh," he chuckled, his voice soft as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I, uh... might’ve taste-tested the cake. Can’t risk it being too sweet, right?”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to her thumb, then back to her, his breath catching in his throat. He was blushing so hard he could feel the heat creeping up to his ears.

He flashed her a sheepish smile, still standing in the doorway in his apron, realizing only now how ridiculous he must look. “I kind of got caught up in... well, the cake... and, uh, decorating…” He gestured vaguely to the living room. “You know, the usual birthday chaos.”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound light and warm. She stepped inside, giving him a playful shove. "You're adorable," she teased, brushing past him to take in the rest of the room. “But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out like this. I’m happy just being with you.”

Yoongi felt a swell of warmth in his chest as he closed the door behind her. “I wanted it to be special,” he said quietly, his gaze softening as he watched her smile.

“Don’t worry, it is,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a wink. "Though, I might have to help you with that messy kitchen... and maybe some other things later."

Yoongi followed her into the kitchen and he nervously glanced at the cake, still standing in the kitchen with his hands behind his back. He couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck. "Uh, so..." He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "I, uh, made this for you."

He turned around slowly to reveal the cake—lopsided but covered in a thick, uneven layer of frosting, and sprinkled with a few hastily placed decorative touches. It wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely made with care.

Y/N smiled warmly, her eyes softening as she looked at the cake. "Wow, you really did this all yourself?" she asked, genuinely impressed. She leaned in closer, taking in the little imperfections with a fond smile. "I love it. It’s perfect."

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking anywhere but at her as his heart raced. "I, uh, wanted it to be special. I know it’s not... fancy, but I—"

Before he could finish, Y/N leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Don’t worry," she said, her voice soft as she reached for the cake. "I think it’s perfect."

Without another word, she dipped her finger into the frosting and brought it to her mouth, licking it off slowly, savoring the taste. Yoongi’s breath hitched as he watched her, his pulse spiking. He tried to look away, but his gaze was glued to her finger and the way she cleaned it off, her eyes meeting his for just a second.

The warmth in his chest spread to his cheeks, and he immediately turned his head to hide the flush on his face. “Did you... like it?” he asked, his voice low. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest like it was about to leap out of his ribcage.

Y/N, still holding her finger to her lips, smiled coyly. “Mm, I do. It’s... sweet.” She licked her lips slowly, her gaze playful. “I think I’ll need more of this.”

Yoongi swallowed hard, the heat in his face intensifying. He opened his mouth to say something, but his brain couldn’t quite catch up with his racing thoughts. Instead, he just stammered, “Happy birthday, by the way…”

She let out a small giggle, stepping closer to him.

“Mm, the cake is really yummy," Y/N said with a smile, wiping a little frosting off her lips as her eyes locked with his. The look was gentle, but there was something in it—something more—something Yoongi recognized.

He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing. “I’m glad you like it," he murmured, his voice low. His hand reached for hers, fingers brushing her skin lightly.

Y/N’s thumb traced the back of his hand, the light touch sending warmth up his arm. She didn’t say anything more, but the silence between them was heavy with everything they’d been feeling in that moment. She was close and yet it wasn’t enough. Yoongi could feel his breath hitch as he gazed at her, his fingers tightening around hers just a little.

"Y/N," he breathed out, his voice soft but full of meaning. She didn’t pull back. Instead, she gave him a look that made his stomach flip, and the distance between them was gone.

He leaned in, his lips finding hers with a familiarity that made his heart race even more. It wasn’t tentative or hesitant. It was the kind of kiss they shared when there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Yoongi’s hand cradled the side of her face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

Y/N’s arms slid around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair, her body pressing into his. Yoongi’s chest tightened with the simple pleasure of having her so close, so warm. They kissed slowly, savoring the closeness, the sweetness of the moment. His tongue parted her lips as he deepened the kiss. He could taste the chocolate off her tongue.

Yoongi smiled as he heard her gasp against his kiss. He swallowed her sounds, his fingers gripping her hair.

Y/N's senses were everywhere. The sweet scent of the kitchen filling her nose, Yoongi's tongue tracing patterns as he kissed her, her fingers tangled in his hair.

She could feel him smirk as she gripped his hair and Yoongi made a mental note to keep his long length just a little longer (if it were up to Y/N, he knows he wouldn't be getting his hair cut any time soon).

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath. Yoongi smiled softly, his fingers still tangled in her hair.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a little raspier than usual.

She smiled back, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Thank you, Yoongi," she said, brushing her lips lightly against his. "Best gift ever.”

Everything just felt right. It was simple—just them, the cake, and this little piece of happiness they’d carved out together.

[snootlestheangel]

Here's one of the better ideas I've had in a hot minute that I forgot about for a couple of days (it appeared when I was trying to fall asleep and I thought about it so good I slept really hard and it disappeared until this morning)

Combining fantasy and modern day

Price, Soap, and Gaz are still the 141 and are still SAS and still highly skilled soldiers. It's still a modern military for them, and everything is just about the same.

The fantasy element comes with assassins.

There's a worldwide understanding basically that any country, place, person, what have you, can hire an assassin for whatever purpose. They're kind of an independent, neutral organization that regulates how much an individual should be making based on the task they're being asked to do (assassins but if they unionized)

But they're not called an assassin

They're Reapers.

Unnamed ghouls of darkness that leave behind a trail of bodies everywhere they go.

Its a dangerous job, one that's short lived and where one dies unknown and uncared for. It's why seniority ranks so high for Reapers, and usually the senior a Reaper, the more notorious they've become. The most notorious Reapers get named, not only by other Reapers, but by the world. But these are few and far between.

The most notorious was named Grimm. It's presumed he was the first Reaper and the most successful. He had a whopping thirty year long career, and an impressive number of confirmed kills.

Then there's Plague, War, Shadow, and Oni. *yall see the vision?*

All Reapers wear dark, more form fitting clothes. Perfect to blend in and move around undetected. The named ones get ornate masks, still made of dark colors to blend in, but an image that imprints on people that are lucky to survive.

But then there's Ghost. The only Reaper to wear white. The saying there is "when you're so good at your job, what's the point in following the dress code?"

He has a decent career now of ten years. In his early two years, he was the laughingstock of Reapers. A Reaper who wears white? Surely I'll see him coming!

But it's how he earned his name faster than any other named Reaper. After just two years, people quickly realized the white mask didn't make a difference. He was lethality personified. He was there and then he wasn't, like a ghost. There's definitely some play about ghosts always being portrayed as white sheets with holes in them.

But Reapers have a bit of power in their own to choose who they worked for, what they do, and for how much.

Reapers could place bids on anyone/thing asking for assistance from one of them. The actual bidding process is unknown to any organization that isn't a Reaper, and being bid on isn't always a good thing. Sometimes it means Reapers want to take YOU out, and they're competing to see who gets the honors. Seniority and notoriety gave bonus "points" to the bids, and named Reapers usually won everything they bid on because of those extra points gained: and usually just because of those extra points *wink wink*

Task Force 141 is stuck dealing with a massive terrorist network and they're having trouble taking out many of their targets.

So against what is considered ethical, they make the announcement they're looking for a Reaper.

And the bids started off high. Most Reapers only bid to be the one so they could see how high the numbers got.

Laswell is the one fortunate enough to inform the boys when the bid closes and they get their Reaper. It's an official message from an unknown origin, impossible to trace. It details how big of a deal this particular bid was for the Reapers, and Laswell shares it with the team.

Their Reaper won by a landslide, Laswell informs. She tells them how even just base bid points, excluding any seniority and notoriety points, the Reaper had outbid the next one by over a thousand points. The bonus points accumulated another 10,000.

And they're all sitting there in shock, cause holy shit, who would bid that high in the first place and who has that much in bonus points????

The message Laswell got?

"Congrats. Your bid broke records, with the winner's base bid being over a thousand points higher than the next. This excludes the ten thousand in points earned from seniority and notoriety. Ghost will dictate the price at his arrival. Best of luck."

A rather shocking way to learn that The Ghost had bid so high on their little team's efforts.

The reason he bid so high, you may be wondering?

Well he wasn't about to let any other Reaper work for his husband, now was he?

Of course, poor Soap MacTavish is in for a world of surprise when he learns his quiet husband Simon Riley is the most notorious Reaper to date.

I have a couple little sneak peek ideas brewing for anyone that wants to ask. I'm just gonna let this settle first 😁

[deanscherrypie420]

𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍

A/N: Hi everyone! This is a requested story (If you look on my page, its the angel!reader one :) ) I hope you like it @fruitmilkshake !

Characters: Angel!Reader Y/N, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings: Angels, Demons, toxic ex-relationship, violence, angelic powers, abduction, death scare, angst with a happy ending, clingy-ish reader, slow burn, fluffy ending (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: After a bad break-up, you run to your closest friend. You knew he had company, but you didn't know you'd fall head over heels for a Winchester.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The brothers were minding their business, Dean cleaning his guns and Sam working on his computer. Castiel was sitting and talking to Dean about an odd feeling he's been having.

"Something is not right... I've been sensing it throughout the week. Dean, I think something is wrong." He explained, waving his hands around his lap.

Dean shook his head, pointing a disabled gun at his friend. "It's nothing, Cas. You're just bein' a paranoid son of a bitch." He nodded and stared his lap, processing Dean's words.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of energy overwhelm the room. He sensed it before the brothers did, a loud screeching burning their eardrums. Sam's laptop screen shattered, along with all the dishes in the sink.

Castiel took a moment to stand up, a force nearly holding him back. Accompanying the deafening sound was loud bangs at the door. He swung the door open and suddenly everything went silent.

Dean jolted up from the bed, gun in hand. Sam turned and grabbed his knife, standing next to his brother. They couldn't see past Castiel's shoulders, but they noticed how his demeanor softened.

"Y/N?" He breathed out, forcing you into a tight hug. "What happened?" She pushed him away, hot, rage filled tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I need help." She muttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. He nodded and pulled her into the room, closing the motel door behind them.

After a lot of explaining, Sam and Dean finally came around to her. "So, you're an angel, you were dating a demon, he's crazy and now he's trying to... Kill you?" Sam summarized, raising a brow.

She nodded, holding eye contact with the man. He cleared his throat, a bit uncomfortable. "Okay, so what the hell are we supposed to do?" Dean scoffed, tossing his phone onto the nightstand.

His brother glared at him, trying to be empathetic with her situation. Her fists balled, nails pressing hard into her palm. "You aren't gonna do anything. I came here to be with my friend. Not you." She remarked, standing up moving away from them.

Sam stood up and came to her side, pressing a reassuring hand to her shoulder. "Hey, we can help you. We've dealt with way worse than a crazy demon." She pushed his hand off and scowled, brows furrowed tight.

"Castiel, are you going to help me, or not?" She asked, ignoring the brothers completely now. He nodded and stood up as well, standing incredibly close to her.

"Of course, you have my word."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam was cooking breakfast in the bunker. They had returned home from a case the night before, beat up and exhausted. He figured this would lighten the mood.

Y/N had been going with them, and honestly it wasn't terrible. She was a great asset, always healing them when needed. She was a lot stronger than Castiel when it came to their powers and she understood social cues better, which they all liked.

Sometimes, she would still get a bit confused with the brothers slang, but she was overall really smart. She had been around for thousands of years, with the same body and same age. She had seen horrific crimes throughout her life, slowly losing faith in her human companions.

Sam was different though. Both of the brothers were different, but Sam consumed her mind. His personality, his smile, and oh god, his kindness. He was so generous to everyone, even to her, and she adored it.

"Hey, Angel. How'd you sleep?" He asked her, dragging her away from her thoughts. She smiled and walked towards him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his back. "I don't need to sleep, Sam. You know that."

He chuckled and nodded, clicking the stove off. "How could I forget." He joked, turning to wrap his arm around her. She picked up a piece of potato from the pan and ate it, giving him a grin. "Delicious, tastes like nothingness."

Dean cleared his throat in the doorway, raising a brow suspiciously. "Hey, lovebirds." He muttered, still a bit tired from waking up. Sam's cheeks warmed and he patted her arm, "We're just friends, Dean." He responded, moving away from her and serving the food.

She felt a small pit in her gut. Unsure as to why, she brushed it off and sat down with them, something Castiel made her do to be "a part of the family."

They chatted about the case, but her angel companion made the conversation short-lived. "Has Kedron interacted with you at all, Y/N?"

She stiffened, giving him an awkward look. "No... We can talk about this privately, if you wish to continue." She mumbled back, earning a concerned look from Sam.

"We're here to help, too. We are all going to be involved in this fight." He told her, engulfing her hand in his. He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, okay. Fine, but I don't want you getting hurt." She murmured and he smiled. Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. "But I can?" The table broke out in a small fit of laughter, Y/N clarifying that she wants everyone to be safe.

But especially Sam...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Cas, this was a bad idea!" Dean hollered, his head slamming into the pole he was tied to. All of them were tied up, Dean doubled-down inside of a devils trap.

Sam was half conscious, and Castiel was only restraining himself because a blade was being held to both the brothers throats. Y/N was knocked out, a man circling her like she was prey.

"I've missed this..." He cooed, twirling a knife in her hair. Sam lulled his head to the side, groaning quietly. "Get away from her." He muttered, squirming against his ropes.

Kedron laughed, an obnoxious sound that made the brothers cringe. He pranced over to Sam and nodded to the man behind him. He yanked the Winchester's head back, a firm hold on his hair. A guttural sound left him, bellowing deep from within.

"You, Sam Winchester... I've learned so much about you, and God! You make me sick." He spat at him, his blade tracing Sam's jawline. Behind him, Y/N was waking up, eyes fluttering open slowly.

Her pupils nearly disappeared when she realized what was happening. Kedron was slicing a line down Sam's chest while Dean and Castiel begged for him to stop.

The lights in the room began to flicker and explode, glass showering the ground. The demon lit up, a wicked grin highlighting his features. "Good morning, Sunshine!" He exclaimed, and she heard Sam struggling.

"What did you do to him?" Her voice was quiet but sharp, anger seeping through her skin. He just smiled, toying with the hem of her clothes. "Is he hurt?" She reiterated, and her answer was Sam screaming out in pain.

She watched over Kedron's shoulder as a man then moved over to Dean, cutting deep within his belly. "No!" She screamed, but he continued torturing them.

He was whispering something in her ear, but she was so overwhelmed, so furious. She watched as a man returned to Sam, sitting him up pressing a blade to his throat.

No.

Within a second she had blasted everyone back, freeing herself from her bindings. She brought the blade Kedron was holding to her hand, holding it with an iron grip.

She got on top of him, holding him by the throat. "You shouldn't bring a demon-killing blade to a fight. You buried your own grave." She growled before stabbing his heart.

After butchering everybody in the room, she finally reached a sense of control. She dropped the knife and ran to Sam, holding her hand to his chest to heal his wounds. "Sammy, answer me. Answer me, dammit!" She pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.

She turned when she heard a thud, adrenaline coursing through her body. Castiel nodded at her as he took care of Dean, letting her know she was fine.

She didn't feel fine. Sam wasn't waking up and she couldn't stop shaking. Her breath was shallow as she tried to heal him again. She couldn't focus, couldn't get it right. "Wake up, Sam!" She screamed, hard sobs following after.

He just laid there, motionless and stiff. She crawled backwards, repulsed by what she caused. "It's my fault... It's my fault." She choked out, her palms digging into her eyes.

She was crying so hard, coughing and choking on her own tears. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, shut tight as she cursed herself. It's all my fault, I killed him, it's my fault. She chanted in her head over and over again, tearing herself apart.

She gasped when she felt two strong arms wrap around her, pulling her flush with his chest. "Hey, hey... It's okay," Sam croaked, his throat incredibly dry.

"S-Sam?" She sighed in relief, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. She rambled incoherent apologies and other statements, but he just quieted her and did his best to soothe her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N wouldn't leave his side, constantly making sure he was okay. Right now, he was in his room watching T.V and she was sitting next to him, fidgeting with the blanket.

She kept glancing over at him, as if to check he was still there. After this repeated for a good thirty minutes, he sighed and grabbed her arm, pulling her onto his chest,

"What are you doing?" She blurted out, pawing at his chest to push away. He hugged her waist tighter and chuckled. "Calm down, Angel. I'm just cuddling."

She nodded and instinctively started tracing the outline of his abs, her hand enjoying the warmth beneath his shirt. "Why?" She mumbled and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Because, it's not just your job to make sure I'm comfortable."

She raised a brow and maneuvered fully on top of him, his hands finding their place on her thighs. "But it is my job... I mean, I don't get paid for it, but it's my responsibility." She countered, and he smiled, resting his forehead to hers.

"And it's my responsibility to make sure you're okay, too." She tried to protest, but he continued. "Don't argue with me, just accept it." He finished, and she couldn't help but smile.

She reached her hands up and started playing with his hair, his smile growing as well. "Sammy, you know you're the nicest human I've ever met." She whispered, and he tilted his head. "Yeah?"

She nodded, a quiet giggle escaping her lips. "Yeah, you are, and I really like you for it." She added, and he chuckled. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, stroking her hair back.

"I really like you too, Angel."

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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! This was my first angel reader fic, this took WAY longer than I expected and I am SO sorry. I didn't proof read it so let me know if there are any mistakes <3

Like, reblog, follow, and comment <3 :)

[grimm-writings]

YIPPEE YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN can i get a scenario where chilchuck slowly falls in love with a gender fluid reader? maybe he’s confused about their presentation at first, but then finds himself attracted to their masc and fem sides :0

two sides of the same coin

…ft! chilchuck x genderfluid! reader

…tags! fluff, end of manga spoilers, implied bisexual chilchuck, the mortifying ordeal of having to explain your identity to someone not in the know

…wc! 935

…notes! this request makes me so happy, because i’m also genderfluid!!! i’ll be using primarily my own experiences with my gender here, so i hope it’s to your liking! happy pride month!!! <3 

“So, you’re… everything.”

“Yes! I guess you can say that.  Although it’s more like it varies.”  Your hands move in the air to communicate your point.  “Sometimes I’m a girl, sometimes a boy.  But I’m also sometimes both, or sometimes neither!  Or maybe I’m partially a girl and partially neither, or I’m partially a boy and partially neither.  And then, on the rare occasion, I am everything!”

You can only watch in real time as Chilchuck slowly loses brain cells.  You’d fear that he may not be able to readily accept you, same as the rest of your party.  The reaction was positive enough (though Marcille and Senshi particularly need time to adapt properly) but there’s still lingering confusion.

Chilchuck slowly nods, though you can tell he isn’t exactly grasping it yet.  “So… What am I meant to call you?”

He’s trying to keep his language respectful.  That’s more than you can say for others you came out to.  You can tell Chilchuck is trying, even if this is unfamiliar ground for him.  He might know enough about different romantic and sexual preferences, and maybe more simple means of gender transition.  Your identity is… hard to explain to someone not in the know, though.

“Just ask,” you reply.  “I might have some indicators in clothing that could help.  Like…”  You gesture towards your current outfit.  “I’m presenting pretty masculine at the moment, yeah?”

“Yeah…” You don’t miss how Chilchuck eyes you up and down.  “So I should keep an eye out for how you dress?”

“Precisely!”  You snap your fingers into a point at Chilchuck’s face.

“Don’t do that.”

You drop your hand.  “Sorry.”

Chilchuck leans back on his seat, folding his arms over his chest.  If he was being honest, this only makes his heart confused.  He was already more used to you presenting masculine throughout your dungeon crawl.  You did express occasional disdain for your current dress, but can’t do much about it.  That in of itself made him wonder if he liked guys.  Now you’re saying you’re a girl sometimes?  Or neither?  Or everything?  He can’t even imagine you in a dress without his mind screaming at him in embarrassment.

You take in Chilchuck’s expression.  Brow furrowed, clearly trying to process your explanation.  He’s definitely accepting of it, just confused.  If there was a way you can explain it better to him…

An idea flashes through your mind with an “ah!”

Chilchuck perks up at your sudden yelp, blinking.  “Something the matter?  Wh– Hey, what are you doing?!”

You had practically scampered on all fours to where your travel bags were, digging around for something.  A few seconds pass before… “GOT ONE!”

Returning to Chilchuck’s side, you hold up one of the gold coins in… someone’s possession.  The half-foot cocks an eyebrow at it.  “What’re you getting at here?”

“This coin is still the same coin when it’s flat in my hand like this,” you begin, before flipping it over.  “Or when it lands on tails.”

Chilchuck watches as you place the coin on your thumb, and flip it up into the air only to let it land randomly, 50/50 chance each time.

“I can’t control whether it lands on heads or tails.  Sometimes it does something really peculiar and stands on its side, or it’s on a slant in some way.”

You watch as the gears turn in Chilchuck’s mind.  “So you can’t really control how your gender works, sometimes you just… feel a certain way?”

“Exactly!  My dysphoria – that’s the term for feeling uncomfortable – can fluctuate, but it’s still the same coin.  It’s still…”

“It’s still you,” Chilchuck finishes, turning his head to look up at you with understanding finally brightening in his eyes.  You can’t help but fluster a little.

It’d be a while since then until you’d make it back to the surface.  Everyone is as accommodating as ever to use the right pronouns when you tell them what for.  It soon comes naturally to just let you live as you are.  It’s welcoming and warm with everyone.

A nice spring breeze blows through your skirt as you make your way down to the entrance of the forest where the feast takes place.  You can spot your party from a mile away, your boots hitting the dirt path as you run over.

“Leave some for me!”  You exclaim in greeting, causing your friends to turn their heads.  Marcille gasps in wonder as she takes in your appearance, meanwhile Izutsumi makes a small noise in surprise.

Chilchuck is stunned into silence, and you can just tell the tips of his ears are going red before he keels over and spits out his drink onto the grass.  “W-What are you wearing?!”

“A dress, Chilchuck,” you quip back, sitting in between him and Marcille.  “Laios still being harassed by Yaad and the rest?”

“Hang on, we’re not moving on from this so fast!  Let me look at you!”  Marcille adjusts herself so she can inspect your look.  “I didn’t think you’d suit a dress so well!  Where’d you get that petticoat?”

You are about to answer when Izutsumi interrupts; “you look so… different,” she relays.

A sheepish chuckle escapes you, as you turn to Chilchuck, who has since been staring at you.  He blinks once you perceive him and glances away.  “You’re still you.  It…  You look very… you. It's nice.”

You can’t help but laugh at his flustered attitude, leaning down to kiss the top of his head as he gives out to you.

You are accepted, and you are loved.  What place could possibly be better than here?

[sundaycentric]

JING YUAN AND NEUV!!!!!

(I too am down horrendous for them)

(seperate) neuvillette & jing yuan x reader

content ★ headcanons, NOT PROOF READ!!, sfw, fluff

note ★ SO REAL!! i love them both sm its unreal.. anyways im just going to do some basic headcanons and drabbles bc im abt to go to a dance and i need something quick to post.. other requesters i am working on your stuff!!

NEUVILLETTE ★

He has no idea what it's like to be in a relationship. He has no experience whatsoever, besides for the in occasional movies Lady Furina will force him to watch with her.

Neuvillette isn't that dumb to take the movies as reality, though. So, he ends up just being a mess.

Before you start dating, Neuvillette will try to his best to hide his feelings. He often times pushes you away, but the sky darkens not soon after. He feels torn.

Neuvillette doesn't even understand his own emotions. He can barely process what he feels, let alone name it. He's confused and worried. He thinks it's love, but what if he isn't? He's never felt love to know what it's like.

It'd take some time for him to start working through his feelings. However, he still keeps his distance. He tries not to make it obvious he is avoiding you, but someone sees through him easily.

It doesn't take long for Lady Furina to find out what's happening, especially considering how observant she is to drama. She'll pester Neuvillette about it a bit, laughing at his reactions. Neuvillette tries to appear indifferent, but the sky's definitely different from what it was before.

For all her teasing, Lady Furina does genuinely care about Neuvillette (and you). She will offer some advice to Neuvillette, even though her experience in romance is just as limited as his. At least Lady Furina can work out her emotions, though.

Gradually, Neuvillette accepts your presence and allows him to take pleasure in it. A month ago, he was doing everything to stay out of your way, but now is he practically near you every time he can be.

He tries not to talk to you too much, though. He gets flustered. Although you might not be able to see it on his face, you might notice the sky becoming brighter—way brighter than normal when you talk to him.

He will never confess first. Well, unless he felt like he had to to avoid loosing you. Other that that scenario, though, he will keep quiet until you say something

Once you do say something and confess your feelings to him, Neuvillette will be so happy. His face might be a little smile, but there is no rain for entire week and lot's of people are getting sunburnt..

He will try his best to keep you happy. Neuvillette is very big on communication since he doesn't always understand what you feel. He does try though.

Neuvillette still doesn't talk much about himself. Instead, he prefers to listen to you. Even the small, mundane things you did during your day put a smile on his face.

Overall, he is very kind and considerate. Maybe even too much. He's scared of hurting you or pushing you away because of how he is. That hasn't happened yet, though. :)

JING YUAN ★

He definitely knows what he is doing. He's had some experience in the past, both watching and doing. Although, it is different when it comes to you.

Jing Yuan took interest in you. He was curious. Why? He doesn't know himself. He just likes you presence. You remind him of his finches, maybe even lion sometimes.

He learns as much as he can about you without being seen as creepy. He'll pay attention attention to you at events or when he is in public. When he catches you staring at him, he feels warm.

Eventually, he begins to come up to you. Jing Yuan prefers to take things slow, and really wants to come up with some sort of strategy to win your heart. It's a bit hard, though. He doesn't want to manipulate you, you aren't his enemy.

Jing Yuan tries to keep things in his control, both so he can spend as much time with you possible and just because he likes it. He will pay for your lunches, buy you things you like, pay for your trips. Jing Yuan has enough money, and he is willing to spend it all if you ask for it.

He'll slowly try to become closer with you. He doesn't want to push you away. After all, Jing Yuan has all the time in the world to wait for you. He only hopes you'll actually go to him.

Jing Yuan seems more unfocused at work now. He is usually not paying attention anyways (as he is sleeping), but it's becoming a bit worse now. Lady Fu catches on quick and reprimands him.

Jing Yuan, in his tired state, tries to excuse himself before Lady Fu gets angrier. He ends up slipping and saying your name. The two of them stare at each other before Fu Xuan starts scolding him again.

Fu Xuan is mad at Jing Yuan, yes, but she cannot deny that she cares about Jing Yuan. So, she might peek into the future to see if the two of you are together. She refuses to tell Jing Yuan what she sees, but she smiles as soon as he leaves.

Jing Yuan may be first to confess. He is fine with either. In the case that he confesses, he'll laugh at the way your face lights up. If you confess first, he'll find it funny how you seem a bit unsure of yourself.

He will reassure you with a kiss on the cheek before telling you that he loves you. Jing Yuan will hug you tightly while he sleeps and take care of anything you need.

He is like a teddy bear. :)

He is attentive, and he always knows what you're feeling. He might tease you sometimes, but he is ultimately very sweet and protective over you.

Yanqing definitely looks up to you as another parental figure. Good luck with that.

Overall, very nice to sleep on. He'll take care of everything he can for you and treat you like a precious gem.