#reality t.v.

[imadititom]

They're not hear to be the strongest.

They here to push their.limits like never before.

Love that energy

[poetry-protest-pornography]

[thecolourrainbow]

“Rosie O’Donnell is disgusting, both inside and out. If you take a look at her, she’s a slob. She talks like a truck driver.” -Donald Trump

[aliteralsemicolon]

3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes

When Spencer doesn’t call at midnight on your birthday like he usually does, you believe he truly wants nothing to do with you because of your fight a few days prior. Until there are two FBI agents knocking on your door, neither of which are your apparently missing boyfriend. 

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but mentions strong themes. It is intended for mature audiences only.  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNING: Mentions of kidnapping, injuries & vague description of panic attack. Proceed at your own risk. 

Word count: 8.6K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers. 

11:57 PM

Eyes trained on the long red hand, you watch as the minutes spin around the clock hanging on the otherwise-empty wall. A century could’ve passed between the last minute and now. It sure as hell feels like it. 

11:58 PM

The movie meant to keep your mind from replaying the events from a few days ago failed its purpose before you even turned on the T.V. If the time between every minute was a century, then the last time you heard from him must have been an eternity ago. When was the last time you heard from him anyway?

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

In all your time together, Spencer had never once raised his voice at you. The fact remained even during your worst fight yet. God, how you wished he had yelled at you. Maybe then he would’ve needed less time away from you. 

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

He was unfair. So were you. Surely neither of you truly meant what was said. You wanted to be near him so, so badly. Did he really not want to see you anymore? He must not, or Spencer would have returned at least one of the twenty four calls he ignored. 

11:59 PM

It was well-intentioned on your part. The migraines were most likely psychosomatic. Otherwise the MRI scans would’ve picked up on the issue. 

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head!”

12:00 AM

Perhaps he did mean what he said. He’d still call though, right? If not to return one of your voicemails then to wish you a happy birthday? After everything the two of you shared together he should at least call today. 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

Unsure of how much longer you could hold out, you uncurl from your fetal position on the sofa and reach over for your phone. Vision peeling from the wall-clock and redirecting to the photo on your lockscreen. How beautiful he looked adorned on your screen. Then again, he always looked beautiful. 

12:31 AM

‘Twelve thirty one’ read the time on your screen. The first thirty one minutes of your birthday were spent replaying exactly what you wanted to avoid. He must’ve fallen asleep. He would never intentionally miss his tradition of wishing you a happy birthday, 12AM, on the dot. “That was before you ruined everything”, your mind began. “You ruined everything”, it repeats over and over in a mantra. 

“He hates me. He would’ve called if he didn’t.” a whisper only for yourself to hear. Minutes passing you by once more as you begin your spiral into doubt and self-hatred. Tears completely stain your skin, clothes, the blanket hugging your legs. Your vision is too blurred to notice it. What you do notice is that you can not breathe. Shit. You can not breathe. 

“Five things” You can almost hear his voice whisper into your mind. “Five things”, you repeat aloud.

“Five things you can see.” As his voice begins to guide, your eyes frantically wander. “The blanket on my lap. My hands curled on top of it. The coffee table in front of me. The T.V playing across from me. The wall-clock hanging just above on the wall behind.”

“Four things you can touch” Not waiting a second before answering to the thought of his voice: “The cushion next to me. The couch beneath me. The sweatshirt I’m wearing. The rings on my fingers.”

“Three things you can hear” Tuning your focus on the sounds around you continue, “The T.V playing. The cars passing by outside. That stupid wall-clock ticking.”

“Two things you can smell” This one was always your least favourite because you had to think the hardest. You could hardly breathe a minute ago and your nose is clogged. How can you smell anything? “I can’t smell anything. I can never smell anything.”

“That’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me one thing you can taste” . His voice was engraved in your brain. You probably couldn’t forget it if you tried. “Salt.”

Shoulders slumping into your body, you wipe the tears clouding your line of sight and dare to look up at the clock once again. If it could speak it would probably taunt you for your pathetic state. 

12:56 AM

You barely make out the time as your eyes begin to cloud again. At least you can breathe normally now. Except your head is throbbing, your eyes are sore and you’re so tired. Sinking back into your previous fetal position, you feel your body give out. As you drift off, you make one final plea for your sanity: “He probably just fell asleep. He’ll call when he wakes up.”

The pounding headache was bad enough, but the rapid pounding against your door made you want to shout violently. As if your body was now on auto-pilot, you attempt to jump up from your position on the sofa - only to not so gracefully trip over your blanket and almost face plant into the coffee table. “Fuck-AH-bitch”, you grumble just as you manage to catch yourself. “I’m coming in just a minute!” Yelling for the very impatient recipient at the other side of your door. You quickly give the clock a glance before making your way to the hallway mirror. 

2:07 PM

You aren’t vain, you’re just a decent enough human to save the person outside your apartment a jumpscare from your post-ugly-crying state. When you stood in front of the mirror and actually saw yourself for the first time today, you didn’t believe there was anything you could do to save that person. That person could be Spencer. So you gave it an attempt, regardless, quickly brushing your hair out with your fingers and wiping the dried tears from your face. Finally shuffling to the door, you take a deep breath as you unlock it. He probably just showed up instead of calling. At least that’s what you wanted to believe.

“Oh. Derek? JJ?”, instead you find two of his friends and FBI profilers, who definitely caught the disappointment in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Pretty Girl. Any chance Pretty Boy is somewhere behind you?” Morgan asks, slightly concerned by your poorly concealed state.

“Hi, sorry, no, he’s not here.” You blurt out as you make eye contact with your nosy neighbour passing by. You consider inviting the agents inside for privacy, but remember that your living room shares the same messy look as you and abort that thought. 

“Can we come inside?” JJ asks for you, also noticing the unwanted eavesdropper.

“Um, sure”,  you hesitate, clearly embarrassed. “Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.” The agents share a look that you miss and follow behind as you quickly begin to tidy up a little. 

“Hey, are you okay?” JJ follows up. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you looking for Spencer here?” You were deflecting. She definitely knew that you were deflecting, but didn’t push further and for that you were grateful.

“He’s not at work and he’s not picking up his cell. So we thought he might be with you.” Morgan answers you, taking a quick glance around. 

“When did you last talk to him?” JJ cuts in.

“Uh, two days ago I think?” Your breath hitches at your first reminder of the fight you had. 

“Two days?” JJ’s brows furrow in a questioning manner towards Morgan, who looks just as confused. “Are you sure?” He chimes in, not waiting for your reply before he dials a number on his phone and rushes off towards your kitchen. 

“Yes, I’m sure…” your eyes follow him as he disappears and quickly snap your attention back towards the blonde woman in front of you. “JJ what’s going on?” 

“Exactly what time did you last see him?” She ignores your question. The slight panic in her voice is contagious and begins to shift into you. “Well I don’t know the exact time, but I’d guess some time just before midnight? When did you last see him?” 

Before she can answer, Morgan calls your name as he walks back in. “Get dressed. You’re gonna need to come back to The Bureau with us.” 

“The Bureau? Okay, seriously guys, what’s going on?” 

“I’ll explain later. JJ and I are gonna wait here while you get dressed okay?” His tone was assertive. 

“No, you’re going to explain right now actually, what the fuck is going on?” But you were too worried to care about his tone. 

He took a deep breath, clearly frustrated. “Spencer’s been missing for two days. ” Realisation spreads across JJ’s face as she puts the pieces together, “ And I think you might’ve been the last person to see him.”

3:42 PM. 

You were currently sitting alone in one of the interview rooms at the FBI Headquarters, phone in hand, repeatedly checking the time. Morgan and JJ gave you time to clean up and get dressed before leaving your apartment. None of you uttered a single word on your way here and JJ led you into this room, telling you to get comfortable and to let her know if you needed anything. 

Somebody was supposed to come in and interview you, but you had been waiting for at least twenty minutes now. The room itself was mostly empty, except for two muted couches in the middle facing each other, separated by a small table. An old rug laid under the setting and a couple of stock pictures were hung on the walls. You had taken JJ’s invitation and claimed a spot in the corner seat of one of the couches, facing the door, but sitting as far away from it as you could. 

The air conditioner was set at room temperature but everything felt cold. Spencer was missing and you were definitely the last person to see him. You felt like the worst person in the world right now. The man that you loved more than anything in the world was missing and the last thing you ever said to him was that you didn’t want to be around him. 

What did missing even mean in this situation? Did he just decide to up and disappear? That would be believable if he was anybody else, but this was Spencer. He would still say goodbye to his friends before leaving. Friends who were also his coworkers. Coworkers at his extremely dangerous job. If Spencer was missing then it wasn’t because he chose to be. Which means that there’s a strong possibility that he’s really hurt, or dead.

Your mind was filled with so many concerns and had you not heard the door handle click, you probably would’ve driven yourself into another panic attack. A raven-haired woman walks into the room and takes a seat opposite to you on the couch across yours. 

“Emily!” 

“Hey, how are you holding up?” 

“Have you found Spencer? Is he okay-” The questions begin piling out of you.

“Woah, take a deep breath okay.” She cuts off your worrisome ramble before it begins. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You cry out in frustration before catching your tone. You take a short, deep breath and continue, “I’m sorry. I’m just really worried okay. I’ve been here for god knows how long and nobody will tell me anything and I just really need to know if Spencer’s okay.”

Emily slightly tilts her head as she looks at you, slightly narrowing her eyes in sympathy. “It’s okay, I understand. You feel really isolated right now because you don’t know what’s going on,” she leans in a little “but the truth is, we don’t entirely know what’s going on either. All we know is that Spencer hasn’t been to work in two days and you were the last person to see him.”

You stare back at her with an apologetic look and the two of you share a brief silence of understanding. As worried as you were right now, you had to remember that Emily and everybody else in the BAU were also extremely worried. You nodded, not saying anything.

“I need you to tell me about the last time you saw him." She’s the first to break the silence.

Instead of simply responding, you stare at her blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. It was like you physically couldn’t respond. You couldn’t even let yourself think about the last time you saw him. The guilt was overbearing, it was pushing tears to well in your eyes. Sighing, you take a gulp and try to get yourself together. Eyes wandering everywhere except towards Emily.

“You okay?” She questions for the second time, giving you the same narrow-eyed look as before, but this time there’s concern behind her eyes.

You try to respond but all you can do is bite the inside of your cheek. Emily’s presence was a welcome distraction from the current situation, until it wasn’t a distraction anymore. She’d unknowingly pushed you back into the headspace you desperately needed to stay out of to keep composed. It wasn’t her fault, you knew she was just doing her job. However, right now you desperately needed her to go away or you were going to completely break down.

Then for the first time in days the universe took pity on you. It leaned into the room in the form of one colourful Penelope Garica, giving you a rushed greeting and ushering Emily out of the room.

“Hey Em, sorry to interrupt, but we need you in the conference room. By that I mean like yesterday.” Garcia turned towards you and squeaked a sad “Good to see you again, I wish it was under different circumstances.” before disappearing. Emily drops a quick “Excuse me” as she gets up and disappears after her.

You knew she would be back. For now, you had time to calm down and you were extremely grateful for that. Taking deep breaths, you check your phone again. There on your screen was Spencer, smiling back at you brightly. You glance at the time again.

4:03 PM

Your eyes instantly land back on his face. They must have stayed staring for a while; before you knew it Emily had re-entered the room. “What’re you doing there?” The sudden interruption from her voice pulled you out of your trance. “Huh? Oh-Sorry, I was just checking the time.” A half-lie. “It’s 4:17.”

No verbal response. Her only response was a look you couldn’t entirely make out as she took a seat in her previous place. “Emily, is everything okay? Did something happen?” 

“I need to tell you something and you need to listen to the full thing, okay? Spencer’s been kidnapped.” She nervously bit her lip as she broke the news to you. “Garcia pulled a recording from a surveillance camera on the street outside your apartment building.”

“What..” You interrupted, unintentionally. “What do you mean kidnapped? Outside my apartment?”

“Look. I won’t lie to you, this is bad. You were the last person to see Spencer and then he’s taken from outside your apartment-”

“Wait a minute, are you telling me that I’m a suspect?” The second time you cut her off, she leans forward and takes your hand in hers. “Listen to me. The whole thing okay? No interruptions.” Her patient tone gives you some comfort. You nod, giving her the go ahead to continue. 

“Now, in normal cases, those closest to the victim would be looked at as initial suspects. But this is not a normal case. You aren’t a suspect but you might be the key in finding him. I’m going to play the recording for you in just a minute and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything. Before I play anything though, we’re going to have to run a cognitive interview and recall your last day with Spencer. I understand that it may be hard, but if you want to help find Spencer, you’re going to have to.”

As your mind processes her words, your hand attempts to close into a fist and squeezes hers. “Emily, I can’t” are the only words you can bring yourself to say.

“Why?” She’s quick to ask in surprise. 

“Because it’s horrible, Emily. The last thing we did was fight. The last thing I told him was that I didn’t want to be around him.” You spit out before you can stop yourself. 

The woman sighs as she mumbles your name, “You can’t possibly blame yourself for this. All couples fight. You couldn’t have known this would happen. I promise you, no matter how bad you think it is, it really cannot be worse than not finding Spencer.”

Her words are blunt, but her voice is empathetic. It’s just what you needed to hear to break out of your ego. “Okay, what do you need?”

“I need you to close your eyes okay. Just listen to the sound of my voice as I guide you.” The brunette instructs. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. “Think back to that day. What were you doing when you first saw Spencer?”

“We met at our favourite café after he got home from work. He had missed our date the night before and wanted to make it up to me. I was checking the time when I heard him call out my name from behind me.” You begin to recall.

“Okay, you turn around to see him. What’s happening around you? Is it busy?” 

“No, it’s actually really quiet compared to usual. There’s maybe four or five other people here besides us.”

“What was Spencer like? His behaviour, was he acting like he normally does when you’re together?”

“He was pretty normal at first. He just looked tired, more than he usually does. But it wasn’t until we started talking that I noticed that something was off.”

“What was off?”

“He just wasn’t present like he usually was. I could tell that he wasn’t feeling great, so I insisted we go back to his place. It was closer than mine.”

You continued recalling the events of the night. When you turned on the light as you entered his apartment, he hissed slightly. That’s when you realised what was going on. He admitted that his migraines were back after some pushing. You asked him if he’d gone to the doctors and he told you how they’d found nothing again. You sat him down on the couch, got him some painkillers and brewed some tea for him. He began ranting about how there had to be something wrong. That’s when you suggested that the migraines could be stress induced. The two of you began arguing not long after that. 

“Spence, have you, maybe, considered that the migraines are psychosomatic? Probably from all the stress you face at work?”

“What does my job have to do with this? What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying that you have a stressful job. It can take a pretty heavy toll. Stress is a common factor for migraines.”

“No, not like this. I just need to find another doctor. One that can actually help.”

“How many doctors will you see before you finally understand that it’s in your head?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, I should have worded that better.”

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“What? No. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking”

“No, it’s what you’re thinking, Spencer.”

“Don’t hold back now, just come out and say it.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head! … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

Emily’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your head, “Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.” And so you do, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Once she’s sure you're calm, she leans back in her seat and continues, “You’re doing great. I need you to go back to the café. Was there anything or any one out of place?” 

You think back. You and Spencer were sitting just by the entrance. There was another couple ordering at the counter. You could smell flowers. Not the nice, light, floral kind of scent. It was the loud, head-ache inducing, overpowering roses kind. It was coming from your left, where there were two old ladies sitting not too far from your table, lost in their own conversation. Behind them, in the far left corner, there was a man sat glaring at Spencer. You couldn’t really see the man that well but, nothing felt out of place. 

“No.” You mumble in disappointment, unable to remember anything out of the ordinary. Wait. The man in the corner. “Yes, yes there’s some guy. He’s barely in my vision, but he was glaring at Spencer. I made eye contact with him once as I entered but I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I need you to really think hard,” Emily urges, “What can you remember about this man? Any distinct details?”

“Um, he was dressed in dark clothing and wearing a beanie. There isn’t really anything that stands out. I’m sorry Emily.”

“No, it’s okay you did great. You can open your eyes now.” You do so, greeted by the sight of Emily across from you fidgeting with the tablet in her lap. “I’m going to show you the recording and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything from it.” 

She passes the tablet over and you click play. It’s a little blurry but you can see Spencer walking on the street outside your apartment building. It looks like he’s making his way over to your place. A man shows up out of, seemingly, nowhere and bumps into him. Spencer appears to become drowsy, unable to coordinate his movement at all. Thirty seconds later, a black van pulls up and that same man from before yanks your boyfriend into the van before it drives off. 

Your stomach drops. “Fuck, Emily! He was right there. He was right outside my apartment. They took him…I should’ve…oh my god..” If you thought you were gonna have a panic attack before, you were in for a heart attack now. 

Emily tries to call your attention using your name as she grabs hold of your hands, “You need to take some more deep breaths okay, panicking now is not going to help.” She’s right. Spencer has already been kidnapped, panicking isn’t going to bring him back. The video replays in your head, you recognise something.

“Wait Emily..the man - that man from the café. That’s the same man. The one who bumped into Spencer. He’s wearing the same clothes and everything. Oh my god, was he following us the whole time?” The realisation seeps through your body and shivers run down your spine. Spencer was being watched the entire time you were together. “Why did they wait? Why didn’t they just take me out and then kidnap Spencer?” 

“I don’t know the answer to that, but you’ve helped a lot. Now I’m going to go and tell the rest of the team what you’ve told me, okay? But you need to stay here.” 

“Why? I can’t just wait here forever, how is that gonna help?” you question. You couldn’t just sit here alone with your thoughts, you needed to get out. 

“Those men that took Spencer, they clearly know about you. This puts you in danger and we don’t know what their plan is. Here is the safest place for you to be. I’m going to send an agent to sit outside that door,” She points at the brown door that serves as the only entry and exit to the room you’re currently in, “His name is Agent Anderson. You tell him if you need anything at all, but you need to stay here. Please.”

You watch her stand up hurriedly and head for the door. You know she’s right. They can’t search for Spencer if they also have to worry about your safety. Getting Spencer back was the most important thing. “Okay.” You agree. “But Emily,” she turns back to look at you from the doorway, “Please bring him back, okay?” 

“We will.” She Promises. It may be an empty promise. There’s no guarantee that he’s even alive, but it's enough to keep you hoping for now. Spencer has to be okay. 

Spencer’s POV

It’s not very often a person finds themselves escaping death’s grasp. The chances of the same person escaping death twice is even less likely. Yet here I am, in the back of an ambulance, on my way to the hospital, having escaped death for the second time in my life. Hopefully, it won't cost me an addiction this time. “Rossi this is ridiculous, I’m fine!” I insisted to the older man next to me, looking over me like a watchdog. I was already aware that my injuries were serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, but I hoped that the EMT’s would ignore that regardless. I need to get back to her, I just want to hold her as soon as possible. “Sir, you need to lie back down” I hear a voice instruct from my right. Then I hear Dave from my left.

“Kid, you are not fine. The sooner we get you to the hospital the sooner you can leave. Now lie back down and let the medics do their job.” How am I supposed to stress the seriousness of the situation in my drugged up state? My girlfriend is in danger! “No Rossi, I need to see that she’s alright, you don’t understand. They got me from right outside her apartment, they know about her!” Why doesn’t he understand? “Reid, relax. She’s been at headquarters since yesterday afternoon. She’s fine. She’ll meet you there, Anderson’s driving her there as we speak.” I have to count on this reassurance for the time being, because I was clearly not getting my way anytime soon. 

Wait yesterday? “No Rossi, that's not right. What day is it? What time?” Guilt surged my veins, did I really miss the most important day of the year? “It’s Friday. Wait no, Saturday now, about uhhh,” he paused “1:43 AM.” No, no, no. “Saturday? She spent her birthday at headquarters? That wasn’t the plan!” I desperately needed to explain something to Rossi, but I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t even fully remember what I needed to explain. “Okay, Sir, I’m going to have to inject you with a light dose of tranquillisers if you don’t calm you down.” I hear the voice on my right say. 

“No, don’t touch me! Get away from me! Rossi-” My objections are interrupted by Rossi on the left again “Kid, you’re heavily drugged right now and you’re not making sense. You need to calm down. Just do as the nice lady says.” I’m entirely perplexed. What lady? And where am I right now? I try to make sense of my situation but my senses are suddenly taken over by a strong sense of drowsiness. I feel at peace, but something has to be wrong because I can hear rapid beeping behind me. “Sir, you need to keep your eyes open, do not fall asleep!”

Your POV

Somebody’s hand hesitantly shaking your shoulder wakes you up. You slowly open your eyes to see Agent Anderson crouching in front of you. Before he can get a word in edgewise, you start throwing out questions at the poor man and rush to sit up-right. “Agent? What happened? Did they find him? Is he okay?” The rapid fire of questions knocks your own breath out of your lungs and forces you to pause for a deep breath, allowing Anderson to cut in. “They found him! I’m not entirely sure of his condition, but he’s on his way to the hospital and so is the team. I can drive you so you can meet them there.” He stands up and walks towards the door, holding it open for you.

“Yes! Please! Let’s go!” You don’t even hesitate as you respond, jumping up from your seat and practically running towards the door. The journey from the building, to the car, then to the hospital is another blur. Spencer fills your mind, as usual, while your eyes are fixated on the time displayed on the dashboard. You watch the minutes pass the whole ride. ‘2:13 AM, 2:14 AM, 2:15 AM, 2:16 AM’ and finally as you arrive at the hospital:

2:17 AM

“You head on in, I’m going to park and follow behind you.” Anderson breaks the streak of silence. The car barely comes to a stop before you jump out and make a bee-line for the doors. You probably look like a maniac running up to the reception desk. “Hi Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist asks unfazed, probably used to seeing maniacs like you. “Spencer Reid. That’s the patient's name. Where is Spencer Reid?” You pester urgently. “Just a moment please.” The receptionist smiles as she begins to type on her keyboard. She turns back to you after a few seconds, instructing you on where to go. “Thank you!” You don’t even blink after she’s done speaking and immediately head towards where you're guided. 

As you enter the waiting room, you’re greeted with the faces of his team from the BAU. “Hi! There you are!” Garcia is the first to notice you, coming in for a hug. “Hey, how is he?” you ask hugging back, no time for proper pleasantries. The rest of the team start making their way up to you one by one for a quick greeting too. “We don’t know yet, the doctor should be out soon to let us know.” Derek, the last one to hug you hello, answers. That’s never good to hear, nervousness covering your face. “Don’t lose hope, he’s going to be just fine!” Rossi interjects your train of thought before it can even begin. Damn profilers. Anderson, true to his word, shows up too. 

Feeling slightly ashamed for your rushed behaviour you apologise and thank him for his patience. He assures you that there’s no need and he understands, before Hotch sends Anderson home for the weekend. It seems like everybody in that room takes turns sitting and pacing around. Everyone except you. Your eyes are glued to the clock at the entrance, occasionally making small talk with the others. It’s officially been three excruciating days since you’ve last seen Spencer and even now, as he’s just a few metres away, you’re unable to see him. “Happy belated birthday.” Rossi whispers, taking a seat next to you. You turn to face him, slightly stunned. “Sorry?” 

“I said happy belated birthday.” He repeats. You can only return a puzzled look, unable to muster the common ‘thank you’. “Spencer. He told me, in the ambulance.” He answers your unasked question. A single tear manages to escape your eye before you sniffle and re-adjust to compose yourself. 

“How bad is it?” Your boyfriend's condition is your immediate concern. 

“You know it’s funny,” the old man ignores your question, knowing it’s better to not worry you further, “the whole ride here the kid would not stop going on about needing to be there for you. It’s like he was unable to comprehend anything in regards to himself. And now here I am, talking to you, and it’s like you’re unable to comprehend anything that doesn’t concern him.” He takes an almost dramatic pause so he can look you in the eyes, like he’s trying to pass on an unspoken message. Whatever that message was, you didn’t understand it. 

He knew you didn’t, because he continued, “even in extreme situations like this one, you think about each other before you think of yourselves. You truly love each other. So, whatever happened before this, let it go. Feeling guilty about it won’t help.” With that he got up from his seat and headed towards the vending machine. Damn profilers. You don’t have a chance to linger on his advice for too long before the doctor shows up. “Spencer Reid?”

Everybody gathers almost immediately around the doctor, waiting to be updated. “He’s got a broken rib, minor concussion, a few deep bruises, specifically around the abdomen, and other minor cuts and bruises. Other than that he’s been heavily sedated, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll be knocked out for a couple of hours, but he’ll be just fine. You’re welcome to see him now, but only two at a time please.” Almost immediately as the doctor leaves, the group turns to look at you and JJ pipes up first. “Would you like to go in first?” 

You couldn’t wait to see him before, but now the nerves were getting to you. “No. You guys go in first.” 

“Are you sure?” Emily asks. 

“We’re allowed two at a time, you know.” Derek reminds you.

“Yeah! The rest of us can take turns while you sit with him!” Garcia pipes up, softly.

“No, come on guys. He’s just as important to you as he is me. Besides I’ll be here for a while, the rest of you need to get home. I can see him after.” You reason. 

“Okay. If you insist. But if you change your mind, let us know.” Emily nods, as she begins to head towards Spencer’s room.

You were sitting in the waiting room once more, while the team had taken turns going in and out of Spencer’s room. Eyes trained on the clock, again. 

4:31 AM

Most of the team had headed home by now. You were honestly surprised they stayed as long as they did, knowing how late it was and how exhausted most of them were. The only people left besides you were Derek and Hotch. Jack was away at a sleepover so Hotch decided to stay longer, feeling responsible for Spencer. “What’s going on in that mind, Pretty Girl?” Derek now sat across from you.

“Derek!” you jumped slightly, not expecting him. “Nothings going on. Why? Is Spencer okay?” 

“You know you keep doing that. Deflecting.” He doesn’t let you get away with it this time. 

“I’m not.” You persist. 

“You are. Look, Spencer’s one of my closest friends and by extension you’re also my friend. I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just know that I am here to listen.” He persists harder.

“Derek, I just…I don’t know what to say. Not just to you, but to him. The last time I saw him, we fought. He said he didn’t want to see me anymore. I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about if he meant it. What if he truly doesn’t want to see me?”

“Woah, woah! Pretty Girl, c’mon. He’s crazy about you, you know that. You’re practically all he ever talks about. I can promise you that no matter how bad you think that fight was, he won’t let it ruin what you have.” The reaffirmations from Emily, Rossi and now Derek were honestly unnecessary. You were a rational person, you already knew everything they’d said to you. The emotions just overpower your rationality at times but hearing those closest to Spencer confirm was how you knew for sure that it’s true. “Thank you, Derek” You responded with a small, but confident smile.

“He’s awake.” Hotch alerts the two of you. FBI training must be heavy on sneak attacks because these fucking profilers had unbelievably light steps. You turn to face the usually monotone man and instead, catch him sporting a relieved smile. He meets your eyes directly as he speaks, “He’s asking for you.” A hopeful huff leaves you as you stand up. “Go get 'em beautiful!” Derek encourages. You thank both him and Hotch, making your way to Spencer's room. You take a deep breath as you approach the door, but before you enter, you make a final note of the time.

4:55 AM

“Hi Angel.” Spencer’s voice weakly acknowledges your arrival in an instant. Your heart feels a mix of hurt and relief at the sight in front of you. His figure’s confined to the gurney and linked with tubes to an IV drip. With every step bringing you closer to him you’re able to make out more of his injuries. Bruises on almost every part of his visible skin, an especially large one covering the surface around his cheekbone, eye and temple. Cuts on his nose, lips, arms - you bite your lip trying to hold back the tears welling you eyes again. “Please say something.” He begs, matching the same pained look as you. 

Rossi’s words were starting to make sense. While you looked at your lover in guilt over his marred state, he looked back at you with guilt for worrying you. “You look like hell.” Maybe not the most sensible thing to say right now, but you didn’t want to cry and worry Spencer further. The poor attempt to lighten the mood showed some success because you earned a light chuckle from your boyfriend. The atmosphere didn’t stay light for long though, the two of you almost instantly falling silent as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

The words fall out from both of you simultaneously. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel. You were right and I was being unfair.” Spencer intertwines his fingers with yours, immediately rejecting your apology. “You were,” you agree “but I was also unfair. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” He tries to sit up, wincing from the unanticipated sharp sting. This earns him a soft reprimand from you, reminding him of his broken rib and you instead use the remote to shift the gurney into a position comfortable for him to lean against. “You need to be more careful!” You whine.

“I know, I know. I just, I want to hold you.” He whines back, staring at you with his dangerously powerful puppy eyes. Those eyes were actually dangerous, you had to internally fight yourself to not give in. You opted to meet him half-way and lightly wrapped your arms around his head for a quick hug. “Don’t look at me like that. There will be no holding unless the doctor clears it.” You whispered against his hair before pulling away, not wanting to accidentally hurt him more. “Technically I’m a doctor-” He tries to protest, but you beat him to it. “A medical doctor, Spencer.” 

You pull the chair from behind so you can sit as close to him as possible and take his free hand into yours, holding it tightly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” You look at him in disbelief as the words leave his mouth. “Spencer, forget the stupid birthday please! Actually, can we just stop with the apologies? I’m just glad that you’re okay- sort of.” Your eyes scan over his injuries again as you say the last sentence. “Stop. Don’t do that. I’m okay, I promise.” It’s more of a request than anything else. He doesn’t like being ‘babied’ or pitied. “Angel look here.” his fingers guide your face to meet his eyes.

“I’m okay. These will heal, but please don’t give me that look. I know you want to talk about it and we will, later. Right now I just want to talk to you about anything else.”

“I know you do, it’s just hard Spencer. There’s so much to say and I was so worried. I spent three days thinking you hated me. Well, technically, I actually spent two days thinking you hated me and the third losing my mind about-” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cups your face gently to cut off your ramble and keeps his same soft, whispery tone, “I know. I too spent the last 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes regretting the last thing I might have ever said to you was something I never should have said because I was being an ass.” 

“Don’t say that!” You immediately interject, unable to even think about the meaning behind his words. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “Shhhh, just listen.” 

“There’s just so much more I have to say. So much more we need to talk about. And right now I just want to talk to you about anything else, even the little things that don’t matter. Especially the things that don’t matter. So please, just tell me about all the pointless things.” His voice cracks slightly at his plea, his gaze connecting so deeply with yours, tears glazing his lashes.

Stupid puppy eyes. There was no fighting against them this time, you gave in. The two of you talked until the medication knocked him out. It was easy like that with Spencer, you never ran out of topics. Nurses went in and out of the room, hours passed by, but you stayed right there next to him. The next few days were spent in the hospital, you only left to get refreshed if somebody from the team was there with Spencer while you were gone. Spencer was asleep most of the time due to the medication. Everybody from the BAU took turns visiting, Garcia always bringing fresh food with her. 

Before Spencer was discharged, the two of you agreed that it would be best for you to stay with him while he recovered. You wanted to be there for him in case he needed anything and he’d take any excuse to have you near him. It was a smart decision overall, because the broken rib rendered Spencer unable to do almost anything on his own. Which is why you were currently watching him bathe, perched on the edge of his bathroom counter, making sure your boyfriend didn’t accidentally hurt himself further. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll be fine.” Spencer insists. “He says, after almost breaking another bone trying to undress by himself earlier.” You snark. 

“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.” Amusement surfaces in his voice and it causes you to blush. 

“Careful, handsome, you’re going to work yourself up and end up disappointed.” You successfully fluster him back. The doctor deemed Spencer unfit for any physical activity, much to his dismay. 

“Ughhh,” he groans, dramatically, rolling his head back. “This is so unfai-Ah!” His complaint is cut off by his own shriek while trying to reach the loofah around his back. 

“Shit Spencer!” You panic, hopping off the counter and rushing to his side, grabbing the loofah out of his grasp. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just can’t reach my back, I guess.” 

“That’s literally what I’m here for, dummy. Let me get it.” You shuffle behind him from outside the tub and gently push him forward so you can access his back. 

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to do this.” There’s a slight hint of embarrassment in his voice. 

“Spencer, love, stop. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus, I like taking care of you.” It was true. Doing small things to make his life convenient made you happy. 

“It’s not just because it’s embarrassing. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way for me like this, you have better things to spend your time on.” The insecurity in his words makes your heart ache. Reaching your hand around his jaw, you turn his head back towards you as you lean in to meet his eyes. 

“How can I get it through your thick, beautiful, skull that I want to be here? I want to do this. I want to spend my time with you.” You state matter of factly. He searches your face for any hint of insincerity. Unable to find any, he whispers, “Thank you” and leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

“And plus, you did promise we’d make up for the lost 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes when you got discharged.” You jokingly remind him of his words to you in a conversation you shared at the hospital. He chuckled and kissed you once more.

“I will.” A re-affirmation of his promise. “But this doesn’t count.”

“How so?” You question. “We’re here together aren’t we?”

“Yes, but you deserve more than this.” He declared. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to make anything up to me. We have to make up for lost time.” 

“Let me make it up to you anyway?” He flashes those damn eyes at you again.

“Just get better first okay, then we’ll talk. Plus you owe me a conversation before anything else.” Normally Spencer was the one who’d have to remind you of things, but today it was the other way around. 

“I guess I do.” He sighs in defeat, “Before we do that I have to tell you something.” 

“Yeah?”

“Rossi offered to throw you a party for your birthday and I kind of, maybe, said yes? It was less of an offer and more of a statement if I’m honest, but I thought you’d like it because you’re a huge fan of his books and always wanted to see his mansion. There’s tons of space for your family and friends too and-”

You cut off his speech with a kiss. “That’s wonderful Spencer, thank you. Tell Rossi I said thank you as well.”

“You’re not disappointed? I know you prefer smaller celebrations and originally I had something else planned but given my current state it’s a bit hard to go through with those plans.”

“Of course I’m not disappointed. I’d be happy with anything as long as you’re there.” You flash him a grateful, genuine smile. He kisses you briefly. Then again. And again.

“As much as I love kissing you, we need to get you to bed. Come on.” The two of you share kisses, giggles and loving looks, as you help him out of the tub, dry him off and get him dressed. Making your way over to the bed, you first help him settle in before getting into your side. It’s clear that Spencer doesn’t know where to start. 

“Let’s start with that night.” You take the lead. He takes a deep breath as he begins to recount the events. 

“I felt terrible after you left. I never meant any of it and I just, I am so sorry.”

“I know. I am too.” You reassured your lover, not wanting him to bear guilt over it any longer. 

“I was on your way to your apartment to apologise when I bumped into the unsub. The next thing I knew I couldn’t feel my legs and was being thrown into the back of the van.” He couldn’t offer you more than the basic details, due to the classified nature of his job. The unsub wanted revenge because Spencer was the reason they were caught in the first place. “I’m sorry” is how Spencer finished his re-telling. 

“Sorry? Why are you sorry, that’s not your fault.” A light, confused chuckle escapes your throat as you speak.

“Because, I put you in danger. Because this job puts me in danger, which always puts you in danger by extension. You deserv-”

“Stop. Spencer, stop.” You cut him off, afraid of what he was insinuating. “Stop telling me what I deserve. I knew what your job was when I entered this relationship. Don’t.” Tears threatening to spill from you, your fingers digging into your own flesh to try and stop them. Spencer noticed, gently coaxing your fingers away from your palm as he massaged your hand lightly. 

“Angel look at me.” He almost commands. You begrudgingly meet his eyes, holding your breath as you mentally prepare for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me speech’ you’d heard before from others. “What’s wrong?” He questions, not entirely sure as to why you were crying. For a genius he could be really unaware of his wording sometimes.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You’re unable to hold your tears. 

“Because I want you to know that I’m going to do better from now. To give you the ‘better’ you deserve.” He wipes your tears, still holding on to your hand. 

“Then why does it sound like you’re trying to break up with me right now?” You sniffle, squeezing his hand slightly.

“I must really suck at communicating, because that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do.” He uses his hand to gently coax your head towards him so he can kiss you. “I want to move in together. With you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. If there’s anything I’ve realised over the past few days, it’s that I really hate being away from you. I hate not being able to see you, hear your voice, feel your touch.” He gives you another kiss. “I am not going anywhere. And I really hope you don’t either. Move in with me?”

You give him a peck. “Yes.” Another peck. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll move in with you.” A deep, longing kiss. You share a few more kisses and then nestle against him. Both of you laughing. 

The next few hours pass with both of you just enjoying being in each other's arms. Gently stroking the others hair, small kisses here and there, ‘I love you’s’ bouncing off from one another. The 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes spent worrying you won’t see each other again seem so silly now that you’ve got everyday to look forward to. 

“Angel?” Spencer’s voice lulls you out from your semi-conscious state. “Hm?”

“Thank you.” On the surface it was just a simple sentence, but his intention was deeper than that. It was a show of gratitude for you choosing him. For staying with him through the hard times. 

“Always.” Your promise that you’d do it again.

“Spencer?” You say after a second. 

“Yes my love?” Spencer replies.

“Thank you too.” 

“Always.”

Both of you fall asleep cuddling not long after. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but one thing was for sure, you were going to wake up next to the love of your life the next morning and then every morning after that. You’d truly found your forever person in each other. 

Spoilers: Hurt, Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship.

AN - First fic I’ve ever written. It’s been in my drafts for so long, I’ve edited it so many times. I hope you didn’t feel too edged because 80% of this is without Spencer scenes (I did and I wrote it).

Feel free to drop helpful criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)

Thank you for reading!

[amoeganism]

TEAM PLAYER isagi yoichi

You're fed up with the evil Blue Lock boys getting special treatment from your Evil best friend because your Evil best friend isn't Evil with you. You’ll do whatever it takes to satisfy your masochistic heart in whatever freakish ways you come up with because communicating and confessing is overrated.

i love my insane boyfriend

There's been something strange going on with you and Isagi can't quite place his finger on it. Yes, he had been away at Blue Lock for a number of weeks, but he thinks that it shouldn't impact your personality to change the way it did. You might be his closest friend and confidant, one of the most treasured people in his life, but you’re currently acting like a freak and frankly, it’s making him really uncomfortable.

As you place your foot on the park bench to retie your shoelaces, Isagi scans your body up and down. No new bruises, no broken bones, no visible injuries, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of some newly developed mental issues because why else would you suddenly be so rude? Yoichi had been hoping that you, his sweet best friend, would be a much needed break from the mental illness fandom that was Blue Lock but it seems like insanity is a disease and you somehow caught it from watching TV. Going to noisy arcades with flashing lights in a dimly lit space, trying overpriced and sickly sweet desserts at trendy cafes, and simply taking walks together under the dappled shade of cherry blossom petals were all things Yoichi had missed amidst the chaos and stress that came with the incredibly competitive atmosphere of Blue Lock.

Yet here you were, not fully meeting him face-to-face but rather side-eyeing him with a condescending stare beneath hooded eyes and raised brows. With a thud, you slumped onto the bench and crossed your arms.

“I thought you were kidnapped before you suddenly appeared on T.V. and not just any T.V., some fuckass display one at the department store. What’s up with that?” you inquired with a pathetic pout disguised into a sneer that Yoichi found slightly goofy. “You’re like a deadbeat cunt.”

“I didn’t know that they were gonna kidnap my phone and basically trap me in there while jeopardizing my athletic career!” Yoichi exclaimed, throwing his hands down onto his lap with a groan. “Also, why do you look like that? You look really stupid.”

With a slight twitch of your lip, the smallest of grins formed on your face, unfolding into a gleeful, creepy smile. “Heh. That was really hot, can you do that again?”

“Excuse me?”

You kick your feet back and forth a couple times, nodding your head side to side like a cheap bobble head toy. Continuing to smile at him with bright and expectant eyes, you explain, “Y’know, what you just said was like how you verbally abuse dudes in Blue Lock.”

With a choked cough and dry wheeze, vibrant red covered the tips of his ears and spread into his cheeks. Breaking eye contact, he turned his head away from you as all judgement left his system, leaving the remnants of pure embarrassment. A hand covering his face was the only thing serving himself a sense of comfort as he wallowed in the consequences of losing his shit during broadcasted soccer games.

“Listen,” Yoichi panicked, trying his best to save face. “Everything on Blue Lock was not real, it’s a scripted reality show. Everything you saw was Evil Isagi Yoichi. I am Real Isagi Yoichi. Evil Isagi Yoichi was created in a lab by Ego Jinpachi and is not a reflection of myself.”

“I’m in love with Evil Isagi Yoichi,” you wistfully sigh, clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth like a cringey cartoon character.

“I lied, I’m actually Evil Isagi Yoichi. That was just a test for you to prove your absolute devotion to me.”

The way you smiled at him was unnerving and the glimmer in your eyes should have unsettled him but Yoichi found himself and his heart melting at your insanity. His cheeks were no longer red out of embarrassment from his diabolical language but the soft kiss you placed on his cheek and teasing pats to the side of his face, making a grin of his own match yours.

“Call me ‘babe’ and I’ll kill you, I only accept derogatory language,” you whisper into his ear.

Like a dream come true, his freak has been (concerningly) matched.

[scrumdidiliyumyum]

Imagine Platonic!Yandere batfam x Spider!Reader who's apart of the spider society and was sent to another universe after a fight with the spot.

They're looking around all confused, and disoriented, and while stumbling through the streets of gotham trying to figure out where in the heck they are, they see a bunch T.V.'s in a window display with their face plastered all over.

They pause whatever they're doing and see that the reader of that universe not only died from the cruel streets of Gotham, but was also apart of the notorious Wayne family! Uh oh.

So imagine not only readers surprise when they find out they're not only related to the Wayne's of this universe, but batman and his posse!

Also try to imagine yan! Batfams surprise when a figure that surprisingly resembles the family member they not only lost, but neglected for so many years, standing right there, gobsmack on a security camera!

Sadly for spider! Reader, them going home, back to their universe doesn't fit in with the batfams second chance at what they could've had. :(

I need someone to make this a reality please 😞 🙏

[shoyostar]

okay but!! childhood friends to lovers shoyo where whenever the two of u wld play house at school, he’d always insist that u two get to be mom and dad… he thinks uve forgotten it once u get too old for playground games but its always been his dream to marry his childhood sweetheart n actually make his puppy crush reenactments a reality…

ANON HOLY SHIT I LOVE YOU RN FOR THIS… I ACTUALLY SOBBED HAPPY TEARS JUST READING THIS I’M SUCH A SUCKER FOR CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS… AND WITH SHOYO? PASSES OUT AND DIES!!!

and i wrote a lil blurb abt this:3

content. jealous and puppy lovesick shoyo <3 childhood crushes and established relationship (in highschool). timeskip takes place third year of hs. lowercase intended. not proofread bcs self indulgent and i’m writing this as i go hehe I WANT TO TURN THIS INTO AN ACTUAL FIC

“nooo,” shoyo whines loudly, pulling the little barbie doll out of your classmate’s tiny hands, “i want y/n to be the mommy!”

she whimpers when he rips the toy away from her, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, “but you always let her be the mom though, i want to play too!”

shoyo looks around the toy bins nearby and picks up a dog toy halfheartedly before handing it to her dully, “here, you can be our doggie.”

“that’s not fair!! i’m not a doggie!”

“but me and y/n are the mom and dad!!”

in between them sits you, sitting cross legged on the floor while pretending to cook a dinner for your dysfunctional family as the kindergarten teacher begins to seperate the two bickering kids to your sides. the plastic toy eggs are starting to burn by the time she realizes your two friends are fighting.

“aya, shoyo! stop fighting!”

shoyo refuses to let go of the barbie regardless of how much your teacher pleads with him to let aya have a turn, and when she scolds him he huffs, plopping down beside you angrily after tossing the doll away to aya’s feet.

he looks so upset, normally shining eyes now downturned and staring at the carpet floor. you turn off the little kitchen playset’s stove and wrap your arms around him in a hug, his fluffy hair tickles through your sweater.

“we can still play house, sho,” you comfort him to the best of your four year old abilities, “i can be the doggie this time so aya can be mommy and daddy with you!”

“but i don’t want her to be the mom..” shoyo pouts, leaning into your touch. “i want you.”

his stubbornness isn’t anything unusual for a kid his age, but shoyo’s always been very insistent on playing house with you and never letting your other classmates join. and if they did they were only ever miscellaneous side characters such as a couch or various pets.

“hey, y/n..” shoyo brings one of your hands into his, looking up at you with a hopefull look in his eyes, “we should just get married when we’re older, so we can always be mommy and daddy when playing house.”

you smile, not noticing the way shoyo’s cheeks flush when you hug him closer. “of course, sho! that sounds so fun!”

a little hesitant, shoyo’s stiff posture slowly relaxes once again, returning with a bright grin of his own to match yours. “yeah!”

that was years ago; and now you’re both in highschool, where you and shoyo’s old toys you’d use to play house with have now been replaced for videogame consoles and volleyballs strewn across his room whilst laying atop his bed in his chest, using his remote to scroll through the channels on his t.v.

it’s comfortable, just as it’s always been between you and shoyo.

“hey, y/n” shoyo mutters into the crook of your shoulder, his hands wrapped loosely around your waist tighten a little. “do you remember back in kindergarten when i said i’d marry you so we can always play house?”

“mmm,” you hum, still absentmindedly flipping through the different channels (mainly comprising of volleyball and sports, because it’s shoyo’s t.v of course) “yeah, why?”

“oh, you do?” he sounds surprised, shifting to sit up in bed and pulling you in with him, “i sort of figured you’d forget all that.”

“well, when my best friend keeps fighting with our classmates over playing house with me everyday how can i forget?” you chuckle, letting a comfortable silence overtakes the room once again but this time it seems a little different.

normally shoyo would’ve responded with a teasing quip of his own, but no such thing comes.

you turn around, tearing your eyes away from a volleyball highlights reel to notice shoyo’s downcast eyes, leaning back into his plush pillows and staring at the ground beneath his bed.

“sho?”

he gulps unsurely, still adverting his gaze. “just uh, forget i said that.”

that response definitely makes you suspicious, coming from shoyo who wears his emotions on the sleeve of his shirt. your boyfriend, who is never afraid to say what’s on his mind now seems hesitant.

“what is it, sho?” you ask softly, bringing a hand to his cheek to turn him towards you, “you can tell me anything, sho.”

shoyo eyes soften when seeing your concerned features; and like from when he was a child he leans into your touch once more, the only difference being your childhood friend turned boyfriend is all grown up now, and realizes the implications of what his words really mean now.

with a gentle kiss to your palms, shoyo brings you in closer by the waist, placing your head right above his chest, allowing you to hear his quickening heartbeat.

“… what if i said i was serious about marrying you?”

© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.

[rebelliousstories]

Out and About

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Child!Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @that-teen2003

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 858

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

A vault suit sticks out like a sore thumb in the desert of the Wasteland. It was so bright, and blue, and very impractical for the harsh reality of the terrain. That is why when he saw it, Cooper’s interest was peaked. That and the cowboy hat the person sported much like his own. Because it was not even a fully grown human wearing the offending garment; it was a child.

The Ghoul looked around as the small being was wandering the rough terrain with cautious eyes. Surely this child was not alone. But it just kept exploring as if it had done it its entire life. He kept a safe distance as he followed the child, just hoping that this belonged to someone nearby. But no one ever came. No mom, no dad, no authority of any kind came to collect this child.

It was currently climbing inside of an old house when Cooper noticed how fast the sun was setting. There would be horrible things coming for that child in the dark of the night. He heard a crash, and immediately drew his gun before running inside the decrepit house. What he saw shocked him. There this little child was, nursing a small fire with a can of cram in its hands that it was eating.

In the firelight, Howard noticed that this small child was a girl, probably no older than six. It reminded him of his little Janey that remained as vivid as ever in his memory two hundred years later. Without consciousness, he began to move closer by did not see the empty can that was right in front of him. He accidentally kicked the object, sending it flying and clanging about the home which startled the child. She let out a yelp, and held her food closer to her chest as she stared at the new person with fear in her eyes. Cooper held out a hand to calm her down, and placed his gun back on his hip. She moved closer to see who the new man was.

“Whoa.” She breathed out and nearly dropped her food. There was no fear left in her eyes after comprehending The Ghoul before her. Suddenly, she was up on her feet and ran straight to the man who was utterly confused. Even with him crouched, she only came up to his chest. Her tiny arms struggled to wrap around him.

“It’s you! It’s you,” came her exclamation. Her voice trailed off as she settled but Cooper was stiff as a board. Pulling the child away, he looked at her closer. She was thin and sunburnt from surviving the Wasteland but her teeth looked good still.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, little one?” Cooper’s hairless brow furrowed as he knelt down to be on her level.

“You’re Cooper Howard. You’re da sheriff from T.V.” Her toothy grin showed. There were a couple missing, but she did not seem to care. Taking off her hat, she passed it to the man with all the innocence only a child cold have.

“Can you sign dis, please?”

That one ask broke him inside. He felt his heart shattering. It had been so long since someone had asked him to do that; he had completely forgotten the feeling. This little child had thawed his blackened heart in a matter of seconds.

“Where you from darlin’? Why you out here all by yourself lonesome and not with your momma?” Cooper chose to avoid her question, knowing that he did not have any instrument to sign the hat. The child, whose name was still a mystery, looked down at her feet that were kicking around sand before she answered.

“My mommy was behind me, den she wasn’t. She told me to run, so I did cause Mommy said I have to listen to her widout question here. I don’t know where she is.” Again, The Ghoul felt his heart break. Chances were, that woman was long dead and chose to spare her child the same fate. It seemed to have worked, but the could not have been out of the vaults long.

“Well, little one. What’s your name? Seein’ as you know mine,” said Cooper. He tried to smile kindly and not scare off the child, although she seems to not be the slightest bit afraid. She supplied her name, and took a much needed bite of food.

“Can I stay with you? It’s scary up here alone.” Even without those puppy eyes she was giving, Cooper already knew his answer. He nodded and walked over to the fire once more. Sitting with his back to the wall, Howard added some more tinder to the fire and was shoved slightly. The girl had moved his arm so that she was curled up against his side, with her head on his chest. Her can of food was empty and discarded as she drifted off to sleep.

Muscle memory kicked in. Cooper checked her breathing, and looked around for any potential threats lurking. With his gun at the ready, he slipped into a light sleep with a little girl on his chest once more.

[bouncybongfairy]

Pretty Please?

Rick Sanchez x Fem Reader

Summary: Summer asks you to pet sit her hamster while her family goes on vacation. Of course, you agree because you're such an amazing friend. Definitely not because you and her grandpa would have the entire house for yourselves.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Intox Kink, Worship Kink, Masochism, Dumbification, Nasty Smut

Best Ref Account Ever: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sitting with your friend group, eating lunch in the quad. Quite boring, the whole school seemed to be yearning for the end of the day. Summer was bragging about the ski trip her family would be leaving for, after school. In all honesty you truly couldn’t care less, happy for her, just not interested. Picking at your salad that had gone soggy as she went on and on. 

“Do you think you could do me like a real solid?” she asks, resting her hand on your shoulder. 

“What is it?” you asked with a sigh. 

“Well, I need someone to come and feed my hamster while I'm gone. I was hoping because you're like, my best friend ever, if you would do that for me?” she asked, trying hard to butter you up. 

“You want me to drive back and forth to your house to mine for 3 days?” you asked, trying to knock some sense into her. 

“Oh my god obviously you can stay in my room,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“Ugh isn’t your grandpa going to be there?” you asked. 

“Yeah but he won’t come out of the garage. Please I’m literally begging you,” she pleaded, “What if I leave you an eighth of bud?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Make it a quarter and I’ll do it,” you said, which delighted her beyond belief.

As soon as you got home, you started packing your bags. Starting to slightly regret ever agreeing to pet sitting. Folding your clothes and placing them neatly in your duffle. Suddenly it occurred to you that her grandpa would be home. Of course in front of Summer you put on a front like him being there would gross you out. When in reality every time you slept over at her house, you would find yourself staring at him. Taking in all his little details; like how far he spreads his legs when sitting on the couch. Or how his eyes dilate when he’s a little more than tipsy. Your mind started wondering about all the possibilities of how your visit would go. It wasn’t something you felt shame about. You had already made your way through all the halfway decent guys at your school. To be quite honest you’ve wanted to hookup with an older guy for a while. All the dudes you’d been with are just so inexperienced and you were tired of that. 

Summer and her mom picked you up. She needed to show you around before leaving. Helping you with the bags, the two of you make your way to her bedroom. Where she gave you the weed she promised, even leaving her bong for you to smoke with. Showing you how to work the T.V and of course introducing you to Mr. Man the hamster. You laughed for a good five minutes over the name. Once she headed out with her family, you immediately started rolling up. Dumping the guts out her window, landing in Jerry’s garden, you felt bad but not really. As soon as you took a few hits off the blunt, you noticed it was strong. Giving you an intense head high, it did make you feel more relaxed. For a moment you were certainly feeling out of place. Getting bored, you start shuffling through your bag, looking for pajamas to wear. Immediately your mind went to Rick, thinking about what pare he would like the most. When you first got to the house, it felt wrong to think about him that way. After smoking, you really didn’t give a fuck. Even if Rick told Summer which is highly unlikely because.. Ew. Losing Summer’s friendship in exchange for hooking up with Rick sounded like a fair deal. You only took a couple hits off the blunt, after putting it out, you tuck it behind your ear. Making sure to stuff the lighter in your sock for safe keeping. Grabbing the hamster food, you put a couple scoops into his bowl. 

“You’re such a cute little guy, i’m about to fuck your great-grandpa. Don’t tell mommy,” you baby talked to him through the glass while giggling. 

Wearing a white oversize t-shirt with socks, you make your way down stairs. Hoping to run into him, the first place you checked was the kitchen. Even though you didn’t find him, it was a prime opportunity to raid the fridge. Taking a jar of pickles out and setting them on the counter before opening the freezer. Finding a dark green bottle with a white label with big X’s across it. Bringing it out and setting it on the counter with a crisp -clank- sound as the glass hit the counter. The bottle opened with a loud pop which made you giggle a bit. You brought it to your nose and immediately recoiled at the pungent aroma. 

“Smells like fucking rubbing alochol,” you mutter to yourself, grabbing a cup and pouring some. 

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to alcohol, you’d been drunk plenty of times. Thinking it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, you chug what you had in the cup. You truly felt like the wind was knocked out of you. The coughing and gasping was only making your chest burn more. Taking a few sips of water from the sink to help wash it down. Similar to the weed, the effects of the alcohol were coming on quick and strong. Your cheeks were flushed and you no longer were worried about appearing sober. A gasp of excitement falls from your lips as you remember the existence of the pickles. Your mouth was salivating as you pulled one out of the jar. 

“What are you doing?” a rough voice rang through the kitchen from the doorway. You jump, turning around to face him. 

One of the first things you noticed about him was how tall he was. Seriously, his head nearly hit the fucking ceiling. Eyes had thick, dark circles underneath them; this only added to his grumpy edge-lord vibe. He was wearing a wifebeater tank that was smudged with black soot. Shamelessly staring at the dick print on his pants. 

“I'm pet-sitting for Summer,” you said, unable to hide your giggles. He started walking towards you, till he was literally less than a foot in front of you. This wipes the smile off your face, he reaches out and grabs the bottle that was sitting on the counter behind you. 

“You drank this?” he asked, his breath smelled just like the bottle. 

“Yeah -hiccup- sorry, but is it okay if I have another sip?” you asked while reaching for the bottle. At first, Rick held it out of your reach but then changed his mind. Taking a few swings from the bottle and then handing it to you. His hand just barely touched your chest as he gave you the bottle. Instantaneously making you wet, well.. wetter. 

“If you wanna drink yourself sick that’s your choice,” he said before turning and walking back to the garage. 

Not quite done shooting your shot, you follow him. Due to the room being made entirely of concrete, it was freezing. It was then that you remember how little clothing you had on. 

“Out!” he called out. 

“I’m scared and lonely all by myself in there, pretty please let me stay?” you asked, which made him turn towards you. You could feel the heat build in your belly as he approached. 

“Awe you’re just so scared? I think it’s slightly endearing how you’re trying to play innocent but I know a whore when I see one. No offense but you’re low hanging fruit,” he said, now towering over you with a smirk on his face. 

“Fuck if you don’t wanna fuck me then why are you saying these thing, making me drip down my thigh?” you asked, reaching down to hook your hand onto his belt. He smacks your hand away before responding, 

“I’m a fucking god, I have queens on thousands of planets offering their ass to me on a plater. Why would I stick my dick in you?” he asked. In response you poured out some of the bottle onto the floor, right onto his shoes. At first he looked livid, like he was going to lay into you but you interrupted him,

“Oops sorry I can be so dumb at times, let me clean that for you,” you said, getting onto your knees and bringing your tongue to his shoes. Licking the alcohol off them while looking directly up to him. He chuckled, like he was humored by your actions. 

“Judging by how you’re throwing yourself at me, I bet you were craving my cock for weeks. Every time you’re here I always notice you staring at me, who would’ve known you had such nasty thoughts behind those pretty little eyes,” he said, tilting his head as he watched. Taking the blunt out from behind your ear and placing it between his lips. 

“May I light that for you?” you asked, pressing your cheek to his shoe, trying your best to flash your doe eyes. 

He used his finger to call you up. Scrambling to your feet, you pull the lighter out of your sock. Bringing the flame to his face, admiring his features in the orange glow. He looked so powerful and strong, you wanted him to tear you apart. He blew the smoke directly into your face, you took a playful bite out of the cloud. Grabbing the bottle from you, he pours more onto his shoes. You took his hint and went back down, now licking the bitter liquid off his other shoe. Taking you off guard, he brings his other foot and presses the soul into your neck. At first you were giggling, liking the way he was degrading you. This was until he began adding more pressure onto your airway. Even as you were gasping and wheezing, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. The way his jaw went razor sharp while exhaling a cloud of smoke. Watching his facial expression twist from a small smile to full on beam. Your vision was becoming blurry and a familiar burning sensation radiating in your chest. 

Finally removing the pressure from your neck, coughing as you regain your full consciousness and breath. He bent down and pulled you up to your feet. A mixture of inebriation and lack of oxygen to your blood made him need to support your weight partly. He grabbed your shirt and lifted it above your head and threw it to the ground. Still slightly light headed, he grabbed your jaw so he could stare directly into your eyes. Reaching his other hand down, and feeling the wetness between your folds. You shudder and let your mouth fall open, now fully aware. He was shocked by how wet you were. Completely untouched and being treated like an absolute dog and you were still hanging on to his every touch and word. Staring at him, half-lidded and willing to take anything he gave you. This was enough to send him into a feral state. Without saying anything he picked you up and bent you over the desk. He used his foot to push your legs apart. Bringing your arms behind yourself, using your hands to spread yourself open.

“Holy shit you’re such a deranged little cocksleeve, you just eat my abuse up huh,” he said, pulling his pants down and fucking the entire length of his cock into your pussy. You cry out from him practically ripping you in half. Tears sting into your eyes and your legs that are on their tiptoes begin shaking. A mixture of moans and choked sobs spill from your mouth. He lifts your upper body from laying against his desk to being pressed against his chest. Using your throat to secure you there while whispering into your ear,

“What’s wrong slut, I thought you wanted this. You wanna stop? Maybe you can’t handle it,” he practically growled, still keeping himself fully inside you. 

“No. P-please,” you cried out, willing to do anything to get friction between your bodies. 

“Oh? You want me to keep tearing you apart? Beg me to,” he said, tightening his grip on your throat.

“Please, I w-want you to destroy me!” you screamed out, willing to do anything to get him fucking into you. 

Once the words left your mouth, he began pounding into you at an alarming rate. Your wetness was leaking down both of your inner thighs. Letting your body go limp, letting him do whatever he wanted. He kept your back pressed against his chest, admiring your chest bouncing as he killed your pussy. Feeling you stretch and tighten around his dick was driving him crazy. It was more than your physique that was satisfying him. It was the fact that you were so horny from being at his command and control. He liked how easy you were to manipulate, how willing you were to be turned into a braindead, cock hungry zombie. Feeling his orgasm nearing, his thrusts were becoming more erratic and sloppy. Fucking into you so hard that sound was involuntarily being forced out of you with every thrust. As you begin to cum, you start panting, completely blissed out. Feeling your cunt clamp down on his cock as you rode out your orgasm sent him over the edge. Filling you with hot cum, spilling out the sides of your pussy. After the encounter you completely blacked out, passed out. He let you stay slumped over that portion over the desk. Cum still leaking out of your abused hole. Simply pushing your body over to the side slightly after pulling his pants up. Reliting the blunt and ashing onto your ass before continuing working on his latest project.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

i can literally imagine this so can you please write john marino with prompt 99 “you got a cute butt” and 96 “stop being grumpy. it’s lame” ☁️☁️☁️

Thank you for requesting I'm sorry I'm so beyond on these drabbles. I kind of iffy how this turned out so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you were imagining.

Drabble Challenge Drabble Masterlist.

"you got a cute butt." "stop being grumpy. it's lame"

It was one of those lazy Saturdays, one of the last ones of summer, where you and John had nothing "officially" on your schedules so you were able to have one last lazy day together. Both John and you decided to spend the day on the coach doing absolutely nothing except watch trash reality t.v shows and eat a bunch of food he probably shouldn't with the reason starting in a few weeks.

Both of you being too lazy to properly cook for yourselves once lunch time came around, you decided to Doordash from your favorite place. John got the notification on his phone that the dasher had left the food at the door. Both of you said you were too lazy to get up to get the food, so you decided to play best out of three, rock,paper,scissors,shoot. John frowned and mumbled under his breath about how you cheated when he lost. Slowly he rolled off the coach he knees gently hitting the floor, with a grown. Playfully you took your foot and kicked him in his butt.

"hey stop!" he yelled at you.

"oh stop being grumpy. it's lame." you said in a playful tone.

"whatever." he mumbled under his breath as he stood up from the floor to go to the front door to get the food.

"hey you got a cute butt." you yelled at him as he left the family room, smirking at the fact that even without John turning around you knew he had a deep pink blush forming on his cheeks.

[l1v1ngd3dgrrl]

Sanctuary [Daisuke x reader]

an: This is my lil treat to y'all before I take my (very mini) break to avoid burn out. Takes place before Daisuke gets on board the Tulpar, you two have one last final moment before his trip! Title is from a Joji song.

Word Count: 1,453

MDNI Banner: Cafekitsune

CW(S): Oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, protection is used this time! This one is kinda angsty I'm so sorry y'all </3 I'm also like half asleep as I was finishing this up so i'm sorry if it's kinda lame

It was 1 a.m. when you got the 'come over' text.

Daisuke had been dreading his new job for months now, and tomorrow was the day he leaves for it. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on the both of you, but your boyfriend was taking it the hardest. He promised you up and down that no matter what that he will always be for you, and solely you.

You walked over to his bedroom window and tapped on it as quietly as you could. Daisuke's head poked out shortly after giving you a weak smile and helping you crawl in.

His room was illuminated by his small box T.V. that sat on top of his dresser. The blue screen from a forgotten VHS in the player being your guide in the near pitch black of the room. Thankfully he wasn't super messy so it was fairly easy to navigate in the low light. You quietly hopped down from his window ledge onto the carpet of his bedroom, stilling for a moment to make sure you weren't too loud. Daisuke took a seat on his bed, In the blue glow you can see his hair disheveled, and eyes puffy.

He'd unfortunately been crying.

Seeing your normally sweet happy go lucky boyfriend like this made your heart hurt. Frowning you open your arms and pull him into a hug, his face burying itself in your chest. You caress his hair and he exhales shakily and blinks a few stray tears away from his eyes.

"It's not forever, you know?" you whisper to him. He nods against your chest and sighs, pulling away and looking up at you. "I know, I'm just-just nervous."

He really didn't want to do this internship thing, he begrudgingly agreed to make his parents (mostly his mom) proud. You run your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the stray tears that had fallen. "Did you wanna talk about it? or is there something I can do to help you?" you ask.

"Lay with me for a bit?" he asks sheepishly "I-I just really want to hold you close right now."

"scooch over then."

He rolls over as far as he can on the twin size mattress and opens his arms for you to join him. The bed creaks slightly under the weight of both of you. He drapes an arm over your side and pulls you in tightly as if you were going to disappear any second.

The two of you lay like this for a while, simply just soaking in the presence of each other. If you could, you'd pause time here and exist in this moment forever. Alas, tomorrow was going to come weather either of liked it or not. Daisuke didn't want his goodbye to be a pitiful one, he wanted both of you to look back on this night fondly.

He props himself up on his elbow and looms over you, cupping your face in his palm. He captures your lips in a kiss, delicate but fueled by desire. You return the kiss and sit up to really get into it, a hand gripping the front of his T-shirt. He smiles against your lips and pulls away briefly to trail kisses down your jaw. You giggle slightly from the sensitivity, which then trails off into a quiet moan as he begins to suck at your skin just above your collar bone.

Your fingers thread themselves in his hair as he alternates between kisses and sucking at your skin, nipping at it every so often. He pulls away and you see the red splotch starting to quickly deepen in color.

Normally you would have scolded him about leaving it in a place where it was visible, but tonight you didn't care. He could leave love bites all over your body and you wouldn't bat an eye. That would be a problem for future you to deal with.

He leaves a couple more smaller ones trailer up your neck before kissing you once more. When he pulls away for a second time he simply just stares at you, eyes blown with lust.

Not a word was exchanged, but you both knew exactly where this was heading. You stand up and remove your sweats and panties, making a show of it as you do. Daisuke sits up and scoots back towards the foot of his bed giving you enough room to lay down.

You lay down and he arranges himself between your legs, hands caressing your thighs. He trails wet kisses down your stomach, warm breath fanning over your most sensitive part. You inhale sharply as he traces over your clit with his tongue. The strands of his hair tickle the inside of your thighs as he moves, causing you to squirm and keen quietly.

He tightens the grasp he has on your thighs and amps up the intensity of his tongue. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug gently. The groan Daisuke lets out goes straight to your core. The two of you stay like this for a while, Daisuke pleasuring you with his mouth and your laying back panting and tugging on his hair every so often.

It felt like you were seeing stars, one of your favorite things about having sex with Daisuke is how he takes his time with you. No matter what you were the number one priority.

Several times he's mentioned how that there's nothing that gets him going more than seeing you get off and knowing that he's the reason. Every moan, whine, and whisper of his name was a sweet song that just made his dick harder.

Your breathing starts to quicken as you feel that coil inside you grow tighter and tighter until it snaps. With a gasp you finish and your eyes stare up at the ceiling. Daisuke sits up and back onto his haunches, content with his work.

"Did you want to stop here?" he murmurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"No," you reply still catching your breath. "Just give me a second." He crawls foreword and places several chaste kisses on your lips. With one hand he fishes around the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a condom.

You smile up at him as he waits patiently for you to regain a steady control of your breathing. You always felt as if you were floating after he made you cum. Body tingly and light. Once you felt as though you can breathe properly again you sit up and take the condom from him. You gently tear the corner and remove the latex disc from the packaging.

Daisuke hops off the bed quickly to drop his sleep pants down to the floor before getting back in position. You slide the condom over his ever hard dick and give it a few strokes.

You lay back down and spread your legs enough for him to settle between. Before he slides himself in he takes one of your hands in his. He firmly grasps it as he pushes himself in, both of you let out quiet gasps as he does.

He stills for a moment, just to let you adjust. "Let me know when." He whispers.

You've had sex with him countless times, but each time it took you a bit to get used to the stretch. You squeeze his hand gently to let him know it was okay to move.

His thrusts are slow, moving enough to where you're both enjoying the feeling. You drape your free hand around his shoulder and caress the nape of his neck with your fingers. He shivers upon contact and lets out a pleased sigh.

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he hones in on the sounds of your moans and the feeling of your warmth around him.

The bed starts to creak quietly, but neither of you seem to care.

The realization that this last moment is coming to an end causes Daisuke's eyes to well up with tears. Upon hearing him sniffle your eyes start to water.

"Y/n, I love you." He whines, voice cracking slightly to avoid crying again.

"I love you too."

His thrusts pick up in pace as he feels himself coming closer to the finish line.

"I love you, I love you, I love you!" he huffs You cum for a second time with a cry of his name.

He follows suite and buries his face into your neck. You two cling onto each other and soak in the afterglow, in no rush to get dressed or move.

Tomorrow could wait, the only thing that truly mattered to the both of you is this moment right now.

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Subway Obsessions Arthur's POV ch.1

Arthur Fleck POV x Fem!Reader  

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: From Arthurs POV. It's just another night on the subway. A typical ride on the Gotham train on his way home from a long day of running errands and away from his tedious depressive thoughts. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the woman he could only seem to catch in passing, the woman he’d been secretly watching, following, fantasizing about nightly. Perhaps the unending misery that is the city above had him thinking of change, of something new to obsess about. Something to draw his mind away from the blistering and the mundane. Would he finally get the courage to talk to her? 

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, swearing, stalking, obsession, mentions of violence, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Beginning to a series? Who knows. May add things later. First fic, btw! I'm hyper fixated now, so expect more. This is something I've been mulling around with for a while. I've done this story from both the readers' POV and from Arthur's because I can't get enough!! So, make sure to read both! I loved writing from this perspective so much, btw! Literally! Send ideas, edits, etc. my way!! And be nice please. The first chapter is mostly fluff/ descriptive plot/character building. Cheers! Enjoyyy!

Word Count: 3.9k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions 

CHAPTER 1: Chance Meeting 

Today was another mundane day. Arthur had been out earlier in the evening running errands for his mother. Picking up T.V. dinners at the grocer and medications for him and her at the local pharmacy. Still, getting around the city was a chore in of itself. He figured the subway would be the easiest and quickest way home. It was nearing 10 o'clock pm. His mother would be worried, and it was getting late. He knew the dangers of roaming Gotham city at these hours. His mother used to say, "That's when the colorful people come out." A way to make something serious, completely unserious. Still, he knew the dangers and tried as hard as he might to keep his wits about him. Easier said than done when you're a man with a neurological disorder, apparently so many people hate you for. He wished they’d understood or tried at least.  

He always pondered why the people of Gotham were so... well so mean! Everyone he encountered save for the very, very few were just assholes to him. Perhaps it was the political climate? With Thomas Wayne running for government placement, it probably didn't help. Make the rich richer and the poor poorer he thought. Perhaps it was the state of the city itself, the infrastructure, the lack of resources. He sure has been on the wrong end of that stick one too many times. "Good people suffer Happy," his mother would say. But he never understood why it had to be that way. Life was circumstantial. He didn't ask to have what little he did. He didn't even ask to be born and thought life was the real joke.

It doesn't have to make sense to be funny! He jested internally. Because its fucked! And there lies the comedy for those broken enough to see, yet perhaps healed enough to laugh at the pain. Because, what else can you do?  

His mind wandered through these endless fields of thought when a train car stopped in front of him. He had been standing on the platform disassociating for some time. Perhaps he even forgot where he was for a moment, ruminating over the wrongs of life and playing them out differently in his head. The things he didn't say or do, what he could have done differently... 

The brisk hiss and click of the air brakes as they screeched to a halt brought him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the doors to open. As he did, a disheveled looking figure pushed past him while exiting. He burst out in a cry of compulsory laughter and stepped on the train. He was in the last car and immediately noticed it was bearable, as bearable as riding the subway can be he postulated. 

In his search for a seat towards the end of the train car, he noticed a large putrid looking spill in the back. It melted off the seats and slid across the aisle. It looked sticky. Best to avoid that then, he thought. He opted for a bench seat away from the offending area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, arm outstretched on the head of the seat next to him. No one was in this car except for him. He found a moment of solace and drank it in, filling himself with the noiseless satisfaction of silence and peace when a warbled voice broke over the loud speaker. He couldn't really understand it, but the semblance of words spoke what sounded like “platform 19”. It was all he could understand through the robot whine. He felt anticipation rising within him. 

At approximately 10:15 p.m., the doors of the subway train broke open with a gush of cold night air. At the other end of the subway, he watched as a woman stepped onto the train like a fawn. Scared and unsure of where to go or sit. She was bright and colorful; she immediately caught his eye. Was this what his mother meant by colorful people? He thought to himself. He quickly realized it was her! The girl he had fantasized about daily and nightly, hoping to catch her on the train but only seeming to in his thoughts and dreams, remembering her face, her scent that penetrated her surroundings. He had tirelessly followed her the first time he saw her. She was the only person to smile at him that day. He had to know more and had to know why. But she wasn't always on the same train. He always hoped to run into her and had almost given up, thinking she must have been some sort of hallucination he created for himself to lessen his own pain. But there she was.  

She looked different tonight. She looked like a predator, displaying colors brightly in the face of possible danger. She was a force; he felt the atmosphere change as soon as she stepped in through the steel doors, a thickness lifted in the air and he could feel himself tense in his seat. His clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, his collar too tight, his hands, sweaty. She always looked beautiful when he saw her, she always looked content and comfortable. Hair in a messy bun with strands falling about her face swayed by the wind that surged through the train car. Sweats he could still make out her figure through, leaving him wanting more every time, it drove him crazy! But today she looked like she was straight out of the films on the TV! He thought to himself. She made him think of glamour, it's the only word that truly fit, like the old films he would watch with his mom. Wow! Was she a sight to see, a cool pristine liquid flowing over his burning eyes. A soothing image of pure proclivity. An unknown sense of calm swept over him. 

He watched, frozen, as she cautiously observed the train car searching for a seat. He looked at her from top to bottom. She was significantly smaller than him, petite, probably around five feet three he gauged. Fuzzy black boots, blue jeans tightly hugging her figure, full thick thighs, his mouth began to water - he thirsted for her, wanted to drink in her every essence. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to choke it down. A tight black shirt under a small cropped pink sweater with red hearts all over. It perfectly displayed her large soft breasts. Brown curls bounced about her shoulders as she walked, strands of them fell daintily on her face and cheeks. As she walked, she would flick it away with a quick movement of her head. The way she did that, moving her hair out of her face without using her hands. It made him tingle in all the right places. His mind raced. What else can she do without using her hands? he thought.  

There was something pink in her hair too, he saw as she walked past. She didn't notice him at first. Most people don't he thought to himself. Although this thought disappointed him, he didn't fault her for it. He had the urge to make her notice him. To be a presence and to be objectified by her, he only wished he could hold that kind of power.  

As she passed, the scent he had come to know as her- wafted past him, he sucked in through his teeth sharply. It was heaven on earth. Stimulating. He would follow that scent hoping to find her, mercilessly searching. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac, and he felt his cock spasm. She was eyeing the seats towards the back where that odd spill was. A butterfly he thought. It's a pink butterfly in her hair. He immediately felt like a school boy again, fawning over and wanting to get the attention of the pretty girl and for her to return it.  

"This one's fine!" He blurted out, not really knowing what he was saying. She turned around, her beauty, dark, striking, and he found it hard to speak again. He stammered and was able to get the lump out of his throat to follow up with; "I don't know what that is back there but these are not so bad" his voice felt cracked but he tried to contain his composure, he didn't want to scare her off. He was the only other person on the train, and it must have jolted her since she didn't see him at first. Plus, she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep or weirdo, he thought to himself. There was some truth behind those thoughts, but that didn't make him a bad person, he thought. All day, he spends trying to have a nice day to make himself and others happy, trying to think good thoughts, trying not to let the bad influence the good he can salvage. 

"Oh, thank you!" A sweet voice broke the monotony of thought, and immediately he was flung back into the present. She made her way to the seats laid out in front of him. A row of sideways seating. He watched her sit gracefully, slowly, like a calculated ballet dancer, he thought. Every move fluid, every move perfect. When she sat, she arranged her things on the seat next to her and settled in. He wondered to himself where she was going. Why she had so many bags, why she was riding the subway so late, as a woman, she should be terrified. This city is not safe, especially for someone as strikingly beautiful as her. She was like a beacon of light, too bright to stare at, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and simply couldn't resist the allure. 

She actually sat next to me! He thought. Only one seat away, actually next to me. But that wasn't all. She saw him, noticed him, heard him, and listened to him. The weight of these simple gestures made his hands sweaty, and he tried his best to remain aloof. The doors of the train opened on the other side of her, and a breeze blew her hair behind her and over her face. He couldn't help but see her, every aspect of her. He studied her every move, every inch of her body. He wanted this to last, for this image to never leave his mind.  

The wind that blew past her carried on it her scent. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sweet alluring scent of peach? No. Some kind of berry? No. When the doors shut and the pressure created another breeze, the scent wafted to him again. Taking it all in, he identified the smell as watermelon. Some kind of fruity smell filled his senses with the feeling of euphoria. It was intoxicating. He wondered what it would be like to be pressed up against her, inhaling her deeply. He looked down with a deep sigh when he looked back over. She was moving a strand of hair out of her face and caught a glimpse of her looking at him as well. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she broke her gaze. She was fire, burning too hot near him, and he wanted so badly to play, to burn himself, engulf himself in her flames breathlessly.  

He tried to come up with something to say, anything. How do I talk to her? What would I even say without sounding stupid? He thought. He watched on as the florescent lights above her flickered. It lit up parts of her he hadn't seen upon first observation. Glitter decorated her collar bones and cheeks. Her sweater was slightly unzipped. He could see the peeking out of her cleavage. Sparkling with glitter, so pretty, she reminded him of the stars of the night sky. Unmistakably beautiful, yet so. Far. Away. He had been working up the courage to say something to her, to hear her voice again, he didn't want to forget it. A symphony replayed in his mind. He needed more.  

He stumbled over his words, "Sorry, I-it's hard for me to talk, I meant to introduce myself. I'm Arthur, " he said in the kindest, most unassuming voice he could muster. She looked up and locked eyes. They burned his insides like hot coals. He anticipated her reply, not knowing if she would even engage in conversation with him. "No worries!" She spoke in a reassuring way that made his heart flutter. "I know how it can be, trust me!" She sounded genuine. Kind. There was something underneath her voice, though he couldn't quite conceptualize. Fear? Doubt, maybe? He wanted to take it away.  

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Again, her voice beaming so light and so lifting. She reached out to shake his hand that he had offered. Her hand was small and was practically swallowed by his. Her fingers were warm, sweeping softly over his palm as she grasped his hand in hers. It's a simple thing, he thought. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him crumble inside. She felt so nice! "Y/N," he said. "I like that." He lamented. Such a beautiful name. But everything about her was beautiful. Her presence was wholesome and welcoming. Is this real? he pondered. Thoughts took over again, and not knowing how to continue the conversation, they sat in silence for a moment as he worked up the courage to speak again. 

Moments passed that felt like a lifetime, but he was content in her presence, soaking up her aura. As he went to ask her a question, she moved to speak as well. Catching each other off guard, Arthur profusely apologized "No it's okay, go ahead," he said, not wanting to interrupt her. "No, no, that's okay, what were you going to say?" She insisted back. Her voice was small and mousey, she seemed so shy. Why would she be? She screams confidence and power. Even in her apprehensive movements, she seems calculated, he thought to himself. He stole another glance at her. Her eyes sparkled reminiscent of a smokey quartz gem in a bracelet he once saw in a shop window. A thought of her adorned in nothing but gems crossed his mind. He tried to hold onto the image before it left his mind's eye. He felt a flush in his cheeks again, and his eyes darted. He couldn't look her in the eyes for too long. It made him nervous. He was working up the urge to speak again, to say something, anything.  

He broke the silence and asked, "So what brings you to ride the subway so late at night? Aren't you scared?" He uttered jokingly. After saying it, he felt immediate stupidity. Why would I say that? He thought and started an inner spiral. As if seeing his reaction to his own question and wanting to ease the tension building within him, Y/N said, " Well, I work at the Gotham shelter overnight. So, having to ride the train every night, I guess, I've gotten used to it for the most part. But, yeah, I do get scared sometimes. The city can be super sketchy, and I've been attacked twice already, so I had to buy mace and stuff to try and protect myself."  

The words spilled out of her mouth like a wave of glass, he couldn't fathom her ever saying this of all things, it was jolting for him and triggered something within him he had tried so long to hide. His mind raced. He felt anger and rage well up inside of him it hardened his sternum and burned in his throat. He became stiff but was unaware. The spiraling began to start again. This city was ruining people, hurting people, good people! He thought. She helps people, and then people hurt her?! Pieces of shit! He screamed internally. The emotions he felt were at war within himself. He felt rage for her pain and suffering at the hands of this city's denizens, he felt fear for her life knowing she rides the train every night, he felt regret, why couldn't he have been there to help, to do something? He all but took the pain on as his own, it soaked through to his core. He too had been at the mercy of some of the worst people he has ever had the displeasure of encountering in this god forsaken city, he too had been attacked, hurt, mercilessly tortured by these fucking terrible people.  

Lost in his train of thought and looking straight ahead he couldn't help but sternly say in sympathy "These people are just fucking terrible!" She must have noticed his change in demeanor at this declaration. He suddenly felt a warmth cross his leg, and lightly squeeze. It was smooth and comforting. His concentration broke completely. Pulled out of a trance by her as if the thoughts were just zapped out of his brain. His eyes quickly darted back to her where they followed the length of her shoulder, to her arm, and from her arm to her hand that rested upon his thigh. He felt the muscles in his face relax, his shoulders dropped, jaw unclenched. The sheer power she had over him he thought. The warmth emanating off of her palm was like security, a blanket of nostalgia. He couldn't remember the last time he felt what felt like love, like connection, or attachment. He couldn't help but see flashes of images in his mind, her moving her hand closer to his cock which had began to throb. He tried to brush away those thoughts but they plagued him. She was touching him. Something that never happens to him. He immediately craved her touch, he wanted more, he wondered how that would be possible. He thought this couldn't be real. Not this time.  

Once again, breaking his thought pattern she spoke, and he gave her his full attention. "Yeah, but I'm ok now!" She said in a reassuring tone. Her voice, like petals on velvet. Soft, gentle. "You're here now! And so, I feel safe." Safe? He thought, with me? Like she trusts me? He could feel the negative thoughts start to brim to the surface of his mind but quelled them by responding instead. He needed clarification. The words she spoke just didn't make sense to him. He couldn't see why she would or should trust him, although he so badly wanted her to, for this to be true, he needed it to be. He suddenly felt the urge to never leave her, to always be by her side. He would watch, he would follow, and he would do anything for her.  

He only imagined what it would be like to know her both romantically and intimately. "You feel safe? W-with me?" He spoke haphazardly, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear, hoped to hear. "I do." She looked into his eyes sincerely. His heart leapt into his throat; he couldn't breathe. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to feel her against him. He shifted his legs at the thought. Looking up at him like that weakened him in so many ways. Most noticeably, in his pants, where he tried to conceal the results of his dirty thoughts. "Then I will protect you Y/N" he proclaimed proudly. A shy smile touched her lips and she continued to gaze into his eyes. He smiled back. I make her feel safe, he thought. She is comfortable in my presence. No one even bothers talking to me, no one ever wants to talk to me. He had the urge to speak once more but couldn't find the words.  

Before either of them could speak, the subway speaker rang out once again in that barely audible robotic toned voice announcing the next stop as the harsh brakes squeaked heavily to a stop. As if anticipating her to leave, he just as quickly stood up and offered out his hand. "Thank you," her voice sang. She turned to face him, her small stature looking up at him once more. He held his composure but felt the heat well up inside him. "It was so nice having someone to ride the train with tonight for a change!" She cheerfully exclaimed with a smile.  

She had grabbed her things and had let go of his hand. What sweet bliss it was for the few seconds he had held it. Her fingers, so dainty and soft. The train screeched to a halt, and he instinctively grabbed her hand again and put his other hand at the small of her back to steady her. He could feel the soft curve of her spine. He slowly moved a pinky closer, hoping she wouldn't notice, tracing the line of her jeans as he did, feeling the line of her panty through the fabric. He quickly pulled away as she exited the train. He had held back. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to turn her around, grab her face and kiss her, shove her onto the subway seats, and have his way with her, make her cry out. He wanted her to miss work. He wanted her to quit! He wanted her all to himself.  

This moment was too perfect. It felt like a dream. As she stepped off the platform and began to walk away, he stood as the doors shut, helplessly watching her as she slowly walked. Unable to stop time. As the train brakes hissed and cranked, he saw her stop and turn around. She had stepped to the doors, but it was too late. He watched on as her figure shrunk into the distance as the train traveled once again into the dark tunnel. He waved. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Platform 19. He thought, I'll remember this time. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Offical names for the sillies (Bad Luck Cat Yan and Good Luck Rabbit Yan) are Thirteenth (Cat) and Wishbone (Rabbit). These two are living rent free in my brain please send questions of they interest you at all.

The two are apart of T.V show host clown darling's cast/harem where Darling films their experiences with beings from another reality to keep people safe.

Thirteenth and Wishbone are forced instructed to stay together at all times due to the effects of their curses. Thirteenth for obvious reasons being a figure of bad luck, but Wishbone is slightly different. Any misfortune they try to bring on themselves has a chance at having repercussions for those around them - for example, if someone where to try to shoot them, the bullet would redirect to the closest target to them. Due to this the pair are often referred to as the Bad Luck Duo instead without any mention of Wishbone's good fortune

Fun Facts

Wishbone has a limp/drags their right legs following an explosion intended to kill them. This incident also took a chunk out of their ear along with other minor injuries. Had they been a normal person, the explosion would've has a much higher fatality chance so as always with them - things could always be worse.... <- This is a common saying/catchphrase of theirs.

Thirteenth is blind in their left eye after being attacked by someone they were only trying to help. Hates all humans because of it....but Clown Darling gives them pets every now and then so they guess Darling is alright-

Wishbone and Thirteenth have to be in a range of about ten feet for their curses to cancel each other out somewhat, but skin to skin contact fully nullifies it (or rather glove to glove as they hate each other and the only reason they can hold hands is because Clown darling gave each one of their old gloves)

[skzstannie]

“And I’m Willow!”

SKZ-> Han Jisung x single mom! Reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers wc: ~2,100 cw: brief descriptions of the death of a parent, child goes missing (just for a second), 4 year olds can be menaces

summary: you’re outgoing 4 year old daughter turns out to be quite the wingman

A/N: Here’s the Han fic, as promised! Going to make this into a mini series, soooo Parts 2/3 will be out eventually. Give this post some love if you enjoyed it; likes/reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Momma, can we get these please?" your daughter whines, shoving a box of tissues in your face.

You snort, "Now why do you want tissues, Willow?"

"You're always crying over those stupid boys on T.V," she answers, distracted by the little bracelet she has tied around her wrist.

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, mumbling out an apology when the elderly couple next to you glances your way. You quickly make your way out of the aisle, praying your daughter will hold her comments 'til you get to an empty one.

Your daughter is the light of your life. She is always so happy and giggly, and she easily becomes the center of attention every time she walks in a room. You love the way she is so carefree, not caring about what anyone thinks of her. While she may only be four, this is certainly a characteristic you wish you had.

"Willow," you chuckle once you're tucked safely away in an empty aisle, "You can't just say things like that in front of other people."

"Why?"

"Because Mommy gets embarrassed easily."

"Why?"

"Because other people don't need to know about our business."

"Why?"

You stop replying, realizing how silly it looks to be arguing with your four year old daughter, and continue shopping.

You push the cart down the next aisle, Willow still sat comfortably in the seat at the front. Suddenly, you bring the cart to a screeching halt. Your eyes lock on the beautiful man stood in front of you, and it's like everything else around you disappears.

Willow lets out an adorable squeak, exaggeratedly lurching forward from the abrupt stopping of the cart. "What was that for, Mommy?" She pouts, her chubby arms crossing over her chest.

You've forgotten how to breathe, and her question goes in one ear and out the other.

Willow, as inpatient as ever, whips her head around, her eyes finding the man you've been ogling for an inappropriate amount of time.

"Mommy, why are you staring at that man?"

The question brings you back to reality, and your cheeks redden when the man in question looks over at you, a teasing smile on his face.

Completely embarrassed now, you whip the cart around, almost taking it on two wheels, and practically sprint to the next aisle.

"Willow," you hiss quietly, your adrenaline pumping at full speed, "Remember what I said? We don't talk about other people in public. It's rude." You run your fingers through her silky hair, making sure she's taking in and understanding your words.

"But whyyy?"

You huff and take a moment to gather yourself, mindlessly staring off at the seasonings stacked in front of you. It's pointless to answer, knowing exactly what she'll say back almost every time.

You're erratic heartbeat has calmed now, and you continue to go about your shopping, grabbing a bottle of ketchup off the shelf. You look down at your phone, crossing it off your list.

In a house with a toddler, you can never have enough ketchup.

You scroll through your list for a moment, but are quickly interrupted by a small tug at your sweatshirt sleeve.

"Mommy?" her small voice perks up, and you're almost too scared to ask.

"Yes, baby?" You're mind is full of random things she might say, and you mentally prepare for something wild to come out of her mouth.

"I have to use the bathroom," she whispers, apparently gaining an awareness of social cues that she lacked 30 seconds prior.

"Ok, I'll take you." You put your phone back in your pocket and make your way to the bathroom at the back of the store. You leave your cart outside the restroom and take Willow out of it. You lead her into the bigger stall by the hand, locking the door behind you guys. She does her business, and you help her to wash her hands.

Walking out of the bathroom, your brows furrow seeing your cart missing.

"What kind of an asshole takes someone's cart?" you whisper to yourself, your eyes scanning the aisles within sight.

You walk down each aisle, your eyes peering in everyone's carts.

Somewhere around the fifth aisle, your hand reaches down to find Willow's hand, but you're met with nothing but air. Your eyes dart down beside you, and you immediately panic when you're little mini-me is nowhere to be found.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes wide as saucers. You race up and down the aisles, searching for your daughter, manners slipping your mind as you bump into people left and right. The aisles are crowded, and you're daughter could be anywhere.

You get to the candy aisle, and you're finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. There your daughter stands, a bag of ripped open M&Ms in hand. Your eyes wander over to the person crouched down next to her, and your pulse quickens once again.

Of course, out of everyone in the whole store, this is who your daughter would go up to.

You stalk over to them, a pink tint once again gracing your cheekbones. As you get closer, your daughter's excited voice falls over your ears.

"And then she started crying when the other guy came back on the T.V," she explains animatedly to the handsome stranger.

"Willow," you say, your tone stern. "You cannot walk away from Mommy in stores." You grab her little hand in yours, pulling her towards you 'til she's in front of you. You crouch down, your eyes level with hers.

Her little expression drops, her bottom lip wobbling. "I'm sorry," she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's ok, baby, you just can't wander off like that. Somebody could take you away from Mommy," you explain tenderly, using the sleeves of your sweatshirt to gently dry her cheeks.

"I just wanted some chocolate, and then I saw the pretty man you saw before, and I wanted to be his friend," she tells you innocently. Your attention is brought back to the bag of candy she dropped on the floor and the very handsome stranger picking each up each individual piece.

"Sir," you panic, "You don't have to do that," you quickly take the bag from his hands.

"No no Mommy, it's ok! He's our friend now!"

"Baby, please stop," your eyes remain on the messy floor, all too embarrassed to look at the man. You hurry to pick up all the M&Ms that spilled out of the bag, throwing them back into the package.

"I was just telling him how you thought he was pretty," your jaw drops in shock, "Oh! And how he looks just like the boys you watch on T.V."

The man chuckles, and you gain the courage to look up at him for the first time.

He's even more handsome from up close, if that's even possible, with dark brown hair parted perfectly, the cutest chubby cheeks you've ever seen on a man, and the brightest smile you could possibly imagine.

"I saw her standing here by herself and figured we’d wait here until you found her. She already had the candy before I saw her," he chuckles, bringing his hand to rub at the nape of his neck while his eyes dart between you and Willow.

"I-uh, thank you so much for watching her. We're working on her listening skills, they need a bit of sharpening." The chemistry you feel between the two of you is unfathomable as you ramble on, and your body warms as you feel his gaze on you. "I'm also so sorry for anything she might've told you. She's quite the people-person, and she wants everyone to know everything-" Your daughter cuts you off, an exasperated look covering her freckled face.

"I just thought it was important for him to know you thought he was pretty."

Your face heats up even more, and you bring your hands up to cover your cheeks. "She's trying to kill me."

The man laughs, a fond look taking over his features. "I'm Jisung, it's nice to meet you..." he offers you his hand, a proper greeting finally underway.

"Y/N," you meet his outstretched hand, giving him a firm handshake. He shakes back and delicately pulls you up to your feet with him.

"And I'm Willow!" she yells, jumping up and down, her big doe eyes focused on Jisung.

"Willow is a very beautiful name," he sticks his hand out towards her, and she clumsily takes it in hers, shaking it quickly up and down. "Now, Willow, do you think your mom thinks I'm pretty enough to give me her number?" His attention shifts back to you, and your heart races at the question.

"Huh? What number-" Now it's your turn to interrupt her. You pull her around to face you and gently guide her face into your sweatshirt, effectively cutting her sentence off.

"She just might," you reply, giving him a flirtatious smile.

After exchanging numbers, it's finally time to part ways. He sends you a subtle wink, the feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Bye Mr. Jisung!" Willow says as you practically drag her away.

"Willow, you have to promise me you will not run off like that ever again!" Now out of Jisung's earshot, you freely scold your daughter.

"But Mommy, Mr. Jisung was so nice!" She skips beside you, happiness exuding from every inch of her tiny body.

"I know he was, but you have to stay by Mommy at all times. Promise me you will not run off again," you stop walking, pulling her off to the side of one of the aisles. Your grip on her arm is loose enough to not hurt her, but tight enough to make her know you mean business. "Promise me, Willow."

"I promise, Mommy."

"Ok, good. Now to find that stupid cart."

~ ~ ~

For the remainder of the time you spent at the store, Willow talks your ear off about Jisung. Through the aisles, through the checkout, and even on the car ride home.

"And then, Momma, he told me my bracelet was beautiful. Can you believe it?!" Her words bounce with excitement. "Daddy would've loved Mr. Jisung."

Your heart aches at the mention of her dad. He passed away in an unfortunate car accident a year after she was born. While she may not remember her dad, you have made sure to tell her every single last detail about him.

"Jisung was very nice, wasn't he, baby?" you hum, stopping at a red light.

"Yes! I really like him." You gaze back at her through the rearview mirror. The love you have in your heart for your little girl is an indescribable amount, and you only wish one day she'll truly understand what she means to you.

It's a heavy role having to act as both parental roles, but here you are, making it work day in and day out.

It's hard, but you have to be kind to yourself, reminding yourself that she's happy, healthy, and everything that's good in the world.

"You're a wonderful mom," your husband had told you. You were sat in the rocking chair, feeding your baby girl a warm bottle, and he was sat across from you on the floor, his head resting on your knees.

It's been years now, though, and while he'll always be your first love, it's ok to look for love again, right?

~ ~ ~

"Willow, please stop climbing on the furniture like it's a jungle gym; you're going to get hurt," you tell her from the kitchen, stirring some noodles on the stove.

You hear her hum in agreeance, the T.V turning on seconds later to her favorite cartoon.

You ended up finding your cart earlier at the store. To your dismay, you simply walked out the opposite end of the bathroom, and your cart was only around the corner. You were quick to finish your shopping, wanting to avoid anymore embarrassing interactions.

Spaghetti was the dinner your daughter requested for the night, so you picked up all the ingredients at the store earlier. You have the noodles boiling on one burner, your homemade sauce going on the other, and a couple pieces of garlic bread toasting in the oven.

Your phone dings from the table, and you step away from the stove to tend to it. You scroll through your numerous Instagram messages, your friends all too obsessed with sending you countless reels.

Your cheeks flush at a specific notification hidden among the multitude of social media messages.

from Unknown

Hey Y/N, It's Jisung

I know this may be moving a little quick

But I can't stop thinking about you

Can I take you out this weekend?

Part 2/3 -> coming soon!

[simp-ly-writes]

Dates with Harvey Headcanons

Pairing: SDV Harvey x Reader

Summary: Date locations and activities you would do together throughout the year.

Warnings: longer than I was expecting, brief mentions of drinking.

A/N: Still can't believe it's already 2024- but I distract myself from this information by writing yet another fanfic about a pixelated doctor who I wish to be real. May turn some of these blurbs into longer fics one day.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Spring

↳ You would go on walks together by the community centre as the snow began to melt. Hand in hand underneath the sprouting trees, you would share a lunch together by the fountain and sit on the swings, drifting back and forth as you talked to one another about both everything- and really nothing at all

↳ Driving out with your hand on his knee to go to the closest home and garden store. Picking out new plants for the flower boxes at the clinic as well as for the front garden on the ranch

↳ Once you finish choosing various plants and flowers alongside planting them to the necessary survival conditions. I can see you both sitting on the front steps of the home, sharing a pottle of wine as you watch the sunset together

↳ When a last minute snow falls upon the ground, Harvey brews a kettle for the both of you as you settle on the couch. Flicking on some random reality t.v. show to watch together as you talk about the various things you both want to get done this year

--

Summer

↳ In the summertime, you and Harvey paint the various fences surrounding the farm alongside the barns, sheds, and stables. It is a time-consuming job as you both sit in a pile of hay, taking a break from the sun within the interior of a barn. All the animals are outside enjoying the weather as you both take a short nap together with your straw-hat's covering your faces from the sun appearing through the cracks between wood panels

↳ In the warm summer nights, you both enjoy a small fire at the back of the house or by the beachside. Cooking a dinner off to the side as you both enjoy a cheeky marshmallow or two before the meal

↳ Taking Willy's boat out to Ginger Island, you both walk up and down the beaches with your sandals in hand. Harvey has a strip of sunscreen across the bridge of his nose while he enforces that you do the same. The poor doctor is already worried about how much you tire yourself out underneath the sun already from working on the various crops and animals

↳ Havrey helps you to set up your display for the community fair, blowing up balloons alongside painting last minute sign details. Anytime someone comes up to compliment your work- you always add how much Harvey helped as well- loving to watch him become a blushing mess before turning around to go chug his water bottle

--

Fall

↳ In the fall time, you both go out for walks once more since the temperature is dying off. You and Harvey collect various leaves to scrapbook later at home together

↳ From trying to help donate to the museum, Harvey sits in the library for support as he watches you meticulously organize each jewell and artifact to just the right position and room. When you come to take a break, Harvey holds your hand from across the table as he flicks through a medical book he was re-studying. A teapot and a few small snacks sit prepared by the doctor as you squeeze his hand in thanks, Harvey looks up from his book, glasses tipped down his nose as he squeezes your hand back before flipping the page and continues his reading

↳ You and Harvey take knitting classes at the community centre together, making one another a scarf and matching touque. Though having a multitude of loose stitches and a few holes, you both wear them to work proudly as Evelyn chuckles to herself softly- noticing your patchwork

--

Winter

↳ When the ground becomes frozen and the animals are each tucked away, warm in the barns with wine brewing in the sheds from prior seasons. You decide to take Harvey ice-skating at the local rink a town or two away where the ice is thick enough. A few wobbles and falls into your await arms, you and Harvey skate side by side while discussing the holiday plans

↳ Harvey drives on the way back as you fall asleep on the passengers side. When the car stops back in Stardew Valley- Harvey picks you up as delicately as possible- not wanting to wake your slumber as he takes you inside and to bed. Lighting a fire in the fireplace before cooking a meal for when you awake

↳ Hosting your friends and family at the farmhouse was a test of both your patiences. But the time spent together planning, grocery shopping and choosing wines from the cellar were highly memorable between the jokes said and memories shared from throughout the year

↳ When its snows enough, you both make snow-people together in a competition. Rushing in and out of the house for extra details from carrots to coal, hats and twigs for arms. You stand back, looking at the work as Harvey wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to plaster a kiss against your cheek

[fresne999]

Half way through the journey of our analyses

I feel like roughly half of the analysis I'm reading about OFMD S2 is folks who clearly fixated on a character (it's Izzy, it's always Izzy that inspires this kind of analysis) write analyses that cause the 2nd response of, "Um…did you ever study literary analysis in school."

Now I come at this from a slightly odd place in that I did study literary analysis in school (30+ years ago) where I learned it's possible to interpret anything about any way, because we're all bringing different lenses to the analysis. Which isn't to say that an author can't have an intended interpretation. 

Dante in Canto V of Inferno (Divine Comedy) would still like folks to understand fixating on the two damned-lovers and ignoring the details that the artist is putting in there for you to catch about how they are damned because they won't change the toxic patterns that got them there in the first place. Also, they can't because they are in hell, and hell is like that. That Dante-the-writer had Dante-the-character swoon over those same two damned-lovers (because Dante-the-character is on a journey of moral correction) is hilarious, but doesn't make it any less the point of that section of the work, but I digress.

As a career, I am very aware that folks love to misinterpret what is meant to be very clear instructions. Of course, I'm writing policies and procedures, which is a bit different from writing fiction, and is worlds away from creating a t.v. show. But that's the life experience that I always bring to literary analysis. Frequently, people choose their interpretations to fit what they want to see, and that's part of being human.

I've seen a fair number of folks interpret Izzy's redemption arc in S2 as one of a queer man struggling with disabilities and mental health issues whose struggle is made meaningless by his demise. Which sure, you could interpret it that way and in that it's coming from I'm sure an emotional place, I get it. And hmmm… I might give this interpretation more credence  if I hadn't read a lot of Izzy analysis for S1 that was wildly different than the text.

So let's take a step back. 

First, know the rules of the literary universe: OFMD is a show where the reality is not ours. It is either the Core Universe or something very close to it. BTW: If you've never heard of Core Universe or read the seminal BtVS+HtLJ "When Hellmouth's Collide" (https://www.ltljverse.com/index2.htm), a Core Universe is one where everything lines up. Row boats are magic, and where there is a Badminton, he will accidentally stab/shoot himself. 

Terminology more befitting of that fancy literature degree might be to say that OFMD functions along the logic of Magical Realism. Characters will appear briefly for the purposes of the story and then disappear not to be mentioned again (Nana, Calico Jack, Mary Read & Anne Bonny). Things align because they are meant to align. It is a universe where the Gravy Basket is a real place, and meant to be taken seriously.  It's also a universe where a man may become a seagull, because he loves the sea. You change for love, but the ways you change may be positive or toxic. 

They can result in a bird that never gets to know rest. Always flying over the sea. Or they lead to becoming a bird, who can float in the sea or land on a unicorn's leg. 

Transformation. 

Anyway, S1 - Stede commissioned a ship with secret passageways. It did not have a buxom mermaid on the prow, nor something more befitting a ship named the Revenge. He commissioned a unicorn prow and went off to become a pirate. 

A not particularly violent pirate. But a pirate who didn't have a problem with the violence of piracy. See Stede telling Lucius (hardest working man on the ship in S1) to take notes during a violent raid where the show's logo was literally carved into the chest of a dead man. 

BTW: The tone about violence is darker in S2, but the violence was there in S1. It was just presented in a more whimsical way. The nose jar was full of noses in S1. We heard about Blackbeard's violence. A man was skinned alive off screen, but we focused on the Prussian (but also sort of French) party. 

What Izzy needed to be redeemed from was established in S1. The problem is that folks who interpreted Izzy as a) the central focus of the show and b) a put upon manager just trying to do right by his crew (or as one Tumblerina referred to him as the man/father of the family going out to hunt - excuse me while I vomit - and support his family as men must do), are not going to understand what Izzy's S2 arc was all about. 

Ed and Stede are the main characters in a romantic story. There are other characters with their own arcs, but they are the main characters.

In S1, Stede created a safe space where characters had a chance to breathe for the first time. Possibly ever, and as a result revisited parts of themselves they'd lost. Wee John got back in touch with his roots as the son of a seamstress. Frenchie got back to what he loves, scamming the rich. The Swede sang like a siren of the sea, because it doesn't always have to be scary. 

Ed had his first good time in years. After expressing suicidal ideation to Izzy because of his terminal boredom in S1.E4 - Discomfort in a Married state, Ed found himself some balance. Some sweet marmalade. 

Ed and Izzy were in a toxic relationship that only reinforced their toxic behavior. And yes, I'm going to overuse the word toxic. While piracy is a place where you can go be yourself and shag whoever you want (whatever happens at sea stays at sea), it's not a place where you can be soft. Gentle. Emotionally open. Available. 

Ed's only path out that he could see at the time was to plan to skin the face of the man who built a ridonculous boat with a unicorn on the prow and wear it for the rest of his life. A plan to send Stede to Doggy Heaven. 

BTW: This is why Izzy uses the line in S2.E3 - the Innkeeper, that they put Ed down like a mad dog, so that Stede could reply that they sent Ed to Doggy Heaven. Reiterating this concept of piracy as violence, as taking away faces / identity / lives, but also losing one's own. Forgetting even what day of the year it is. Also revealing that Stede knew about Ed & Izzy's plan to murder him, send Stede to doggy heaven, and had moved on. 

This is also why the respite in S2.E4 - Fun and Games is so critical. Mary Read/Anne Bonney are portrayed as direct parallels to Stede/Ed. They are selling what are, no doubt, the spoils of their piracy. But they've chosen a remote location with no community, but each other and a life where they are not actually communicating. Which on its surface is where Ed and Stede end up, and yet…the Revenge can sail back. They are on the shore facing the sea, not in a jungle lost from a clear view. I'll quote the relevant Dante in just a bit, never fear.

Ed and Stede's new inn has the potential for a solid foundation, because the unicorn has been planted firmly in the ground, and if we get an S3, I firmly expect the unicorn leg to have transformed into a tree, because I've read a lot of medieval literature and that's how that sort of thing works. 

Well, it could be a penis tree (this was a thing in medieval marginalia), but somehow I don't think it will be. 

 But I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

Back in S1, the plan to murder Stede and take his identity broke down despite Izzy trying to perform an intervention to get Ed back into the toxic soup, and ended with Ed curled up in a bathtub and opening up about murdering his father. An image the show chose to flash on the screen multiple times in S2 just in case folks forgot that this was a traumatizing event for Ed, and was itself the culmination of years of traumatic abuse at his father's hands. 

Just as Stede kept flashing back to the moment his father tells him what it is to be a man, and kills an animal, the blood splashing on Stede's wee little face. 

That this is the point of the show. Transforming past trauma. It's there. You always carry the scars. Sometimes, you decide to tattoo yourself with the image of the thing you fear, and then the thing you fear is always there, but you've got to keep moving forward. To stay in one place, to stay trapped in the same emotion/action, is hell. I've read a lot of lit crit of Dante's Inferno. Trust me, it's the same thing.

Izzy's redemption arc is firmly based in the events of S1E6 - Here Dragons Be, because it's where the pustule of his relationship with Ed breaks. His attempted intervention fails to get Ed to kill Stede, so Izzy tries to kill Stede. Not realizing that a) Stede is a main character and b) this is a Core Universe show. Where it's possible to win a duel by being stabbed in the left side of your gut and stay there for many hours and not die. So he loses the 1 thing that defines him, his job. 

Izzy's redemption arc is firmly based in the events of s1E8 - We Gull Way Back, where he enlists Calico Jack to lure Ed off the boat (with all the toxic masculinity that entailed) so that the British could show up and shoot the head off the unicorn, and kill Stede. So Izzy can crawl back into his old patterns / job / life. 

Izzy's redemption arc is firmly based in the big drama confrontation in S1E10 - Wherever You Go There You Are, when as a person whose entire identity is tied up in being Blackbeard's First Mate and after realizing that he couldn't cut it as a captain on his own, he does whatever the f- he can to get Ed back into the toxic soup so he can get his old role/job back.  

This isn't to say that Ed's off the deep end actions in S2.E1&2 aren't his own choices. He is a main character. His emotional arc is one of the driving forces of the show. But they are the choices of a man who wants to die. After a lifetime of violent action that had been increasingly drowning him, he wants to die in the violence of battle, but the enemy are never good enough. He wants Izzy to kill him, but Izzy won't. Until he does…sort of. He wants to die in a storm. He's carving notches on his wall hoping to lure Ned Low to him so that he can die in pain. But Ed is the devil and does not die.

Except Ed's not the devil. He doesn't have a head made of smoke. He's a man. Not a fisherman. Not a fisher of men, and what an interesting attempt to go Christ himself off into the wilderness only to be fired for not being that good at it, and then receive his letter from the deep. 

Because in a show full of magical realism, the bottles with messages will reach the intended recipient eventually.

"In the middle of the journey of our life, I came to myself in a dark wood for the straight way was lost. Ah, how hard a thing it is to say what that wood was. So savage and harsh and strong, that the thought of it renews my fear. It is so bitter that death is little more so. But to speak of the good that I found there, I will tell of the other things I saw…and like one with laboring breath comes forth from the deep onto the shore, who turns back to the perilous water and stares, so my spirit still fleeing turned to gaze upon the pass that has never left anyone alive." Dante, Canto 1, Inferno. 

Instead of dying, Ed goes not to Purgatory (sorry I'd quote the opening lines, but Inferno actually works better here), but to the Gravy Basket, where he confronts the spirit of Hornigold. Dead spirit. Aspect of Ed's self. Both. Neither. Hated. Self. Unkillable. 

Is saved by a goldfish incarnation of Stede. 

But just as the imaginary as Stede's vision of what / who he thinks he needs to be for Ed, this is not true. Life being what it is, Ed and Stede rush when they need to go slow. They break apart because they are saying words, but the other person is hearing based on their own interpretation. 

BTW: The clue Dante-the-writer gives the reader in Canto V of Inferno is how one of the damned lovers, Francesca, explains how she hooked up with her brother-in-law, Paulo. She describes reading an Arthurian romance. She and Paulo kissed when Gwenevere and Lancelot kissed in the story. Except the version they are reading (and Dante tells the reader which version this is) was intended as a cautionary tale. Also, Paulo and Francesca were real people who were murdered by Francesca's husband when he caught them together. So there is that too.

I always like it in fiction when characters misinterpret each other because they hear based on their life experiences and don't hear the things that are said/unsaid based on the life experiences of the other person speaking. That's good writing. It's also how we end up with wildly varying interpretations of works of fiction.

But I digress.

Izzy's S2 arc is that he must let go of his relationship with Ed and turn to others. He must learn to let go of toxic masculinity and let in softness. Not weakness. Water is not weak, but it is soft. Calypso, goddess of the sea, is not weak. Her birthday is whatever day you need it to be. She is vast and deep and soft and relentless. 

In Ro-sham-bo, it's a shame that there is not a gesture for water. Because it is not paper that defeats stone, but water that wears away the stone. Of course, scissors wouldn't do much to water either, so that would sort of break Ro-sham-bo, so I suppose it must stay as it is.

It is through a craft's project that the crew of the Revenge find healing. Turn Izzy into the unicorn. A unicorn that Izzy's own actions caused to be decapitated with a British cannon ball in S1. That Izzy rendered legless (drunk). But the Revenge is a boat. They just need to swim/sail. It is through a craft's project that Izzy is able to offer healing to Lucius, who in turn is then able to turn their art away from fixating on Ed, and the trauma that he's been through and back towards love, and Black Pete. 

But it's not possible to see Izzy's S2 arc, if you didn't interpret S1 Izzy as needing to go through his own gravy basket. 

That Izzy dies because his transformation is necessary. He can't leave Ed, and if he doesn't leave Ed, then Ed can't stop being Blackbeard. The kracken. He literally tells Ed this as he chooses to transform. To free the world of Blackbeard, so Ed can be Ed. Yet, I've read so many posts by folks saying, "But why did he have to die?" Which sure, you can choose not believe what the character says while dying.

Which is a narrative privilege. To get a good dying speech. "There he is" get to be transmutted from an attack to an actual seeing. The larger than life concept of a smoke headed pirate can waft away.

Stories are hard to kill. They live on long past us, and as long as someone is remembered, especially in a universe like OFMD, we live. 

Though always reject the gift of a clock. That's someone telling you that you've only got so many hours left of life. If you are a character in a story. 

Thus the other parallel in this season is Izzy to Auntie and Ed to Zheng Yi Sao. Auntie must allow Zheng softness. Izzy must go through a sea change to something new and strange. Also, this would be a case of Doylistically the writers needed to line up Olu with Stede for that to work, and thus the new configurations of Olu and Jim's relationship, which, shrug, could be poly. Could be friends to lovers to friends.  Woulda, coulda, had more time, but that's on Max for not giving us 2 more episodes.

Prince Richard was trying to become a concept, but was too in love with the mechanics of it. Stede was trying to become a concept too. Found his fame, and all too quickly the toxic end of that particular route. Magical Realism was on his side until he tried to face down Zheng Yi Sao, the Queen of Pirates, and then the rules of the story weren't. Because those clocks were ticking. Everyone was in a very dark wood. The memory of blood splashed on Stede's face as a little boy was a warning. It was a reminder. It was the wrong lessons we take from our childhood and must unlearn to become whole.

Having the final shot of the show being Buttons landing on the unicorn leg as a reminder that this is a show about transformation. One thing becoming another thing. Somewhere the dead are dancing in Calypso's court. A dance below the sea and on the sea and with the sea. While the living keep sailing on their magic ship to do…I don't know. 

Because the Golden Age of Piracy is coming to an end. They'll go create new worlds and new places to be. Transforming.

If we get no more of the show, this is a resolution.

Since I've been quoting Dante, I'm going to end this with the final vision in Paradiso. Because folks who haven't been reading my analysis for the last 30 years / read it, may not realize that the Divine Comedy (a story that begins in sorrow and ends in joy) ends with the vision of a 3 way rainbow. 

"In the profound and shining Being of the deep Light, three circles appeared, of three colours, and one magnitude: one seemed refracted by the other, like Iris’s rainbows, and the third seemed fire breathed equally from both. O how the words fall short, and how feeble compared with my conceiving!…Power, here, failed the deep imagining: but already my desire and will were rolled, like a wheel that is turned, equally, by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars."