#remember when they used this idea forgot to credit me and then wrote in a new car so they didnt have to credit me

[lizardboyscalesmcstuffins]

*this is a post from 2021*

Hi guys Anthony liked my idea

[gyllenhaalstories]

ALIBI — RUSTY SABICH

summary: rusty seeks comfort in someone from his past to hide from both the present and the future.

warnings: mentions of cheating & the murder, mostly angst, smut (pussy eating, penetration, marking & hickeys, accidental creampie, some elements of noncon). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 4075

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i was going off the vibes from the trailers but there are spoilers from the first two episodes. this was supposed to be all smut but then i didn't feel like writing smut so it was all angst but then i remembered i'm bad at writing angst so now it's... a mess. sorry? 👓 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The doorbell rang. The noise was so loud that it startled you.

You had been on the edge all day, ever since you received a mysterious letter in your mailbox. The enveloppe was bare, the paper did not look much better. It could have been a bad prank for all you knew, it was not addressed to anyone specifically nor did it have the information required to return it. If it had not been of the familiar penmanship that wrote the words I'll be here at midnight, you would have believed that the letter was completely anonymous.

Rusty stood on the other side of the door, his body completely frozen while his mind and his heart raced faster than ever before. It was a bad idea, one of the worst ideas. He tried to make sure that nobody had followed him, but how could he know? How could he completely be sure there was not a car parked in the darkness of the night?

You ripped the metaphorical bandaid off. "What are you doing here?" You gripped on the door knob tightly, fighting the urge to slam the door back in his face.

He looked down at his feet. "You got my letter."

You were not having any of his misplaced timidity. He reached out, he needed to face the consequences. He needed to face you. So, you stepped out of the way and let him make a decision. Whether he walked away before it was too late, or whether he...

Rusty's shoulder bumped against yours while he made his way into your home. Memories flooded his mind. Memories of the two of you talking, laughing, kissing and...

"What are you doing here?" You repeated, this time with more annoyance in your voice.

He stopped reminiscing the past you shared. "I had nowhere else to go. I have no one else, but..."

"You don't have me either. You made that very clear when you disappeared. It's been so long, I started to believe you forgot I even existed. When was the last time we talked?"

When Carolyn started working. "It's been a long time, I know."

"You know everything, don't you?" You stated and closed the door. Rusty stood there, almost as clueless as you about his presence. You eyed him from head to toes and scoffed.

He flinched, expecting you to go on with another lecture about how he was such a horrible man. You did not, you knew he would like that too much.

You walked towards the living room and crashed on couch, as far as you could be from him. The distance made you feel safer. Only this safety was ephemeral and fragile.

"I, huh... I just," he stuttered and clenched his jaw while trying to compose himself. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I needed you."

You scoffed again at the use of past tense. Before you could talk back, he continued.

"I need you."

That confession weighted heavy in the air for several long, agonizing minutes. He came to you. He would have to work hard to get whatever he wanted from you.

Rusty fidgeted with his ring finger. Muscle memory.

You crossed your arms against your chest. You had showed this man more patience than he deserved. "Do you want a hug? Do you want me to tell you everything's gonna be okay?

He glanced in your direction, just long enough for you to notice the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I'm not the lawyer who's gonna defend your fake alibi, I'm not the detective who's gonna scrap pieces of evidence for you. I'm not the one who's going to get you out of trouble." You bombarded him with all of these options that he had once considered, crossing them off his list one after the other. "I'm not what you need."

"Yes, you are!" He raised his voice and you lifted a brow at his outburst. He hated being cornered, he hated being on the receiving hand of a tactic he had used one too many times in court. "I need you!" He shouted, he surprised himself.

You blinked and suddenly he was in front of you. He stood, tall but not strong. The louder he yelled, the weaker he felt.

"I need you to help me." You locked eyes with him, daring him to go on. "I need you to help me forget." He did not need to speak her name for you to figure out he was talking about Carolyn.

You laughed at him, as if you were hit with a sudden case of hysteria.

Your reaction made him walk away with his tail between his legs. He sat on the opposite side of the couch.

"You think you're so brave. Huh?" You smiled at him, in complete disbelief. "You were talking shit about how you wanted to leave your wife for me. The worst part is... I believed you." He seemed surprised once again. "Then you left me for another woman who died because of you. And now..." Your smile faded and your arms fell to your sides. "You're crawling back to me because you feel lonely?"

This was a mistake. He thought, he hoped, you would be different. He had enough of people berating him. He sprung to his feet and paced around your living room, planning his next move... His next words.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek while he behaved like an animal in cage. "Rusty..." You sighed, slowly giving in without your own consent. You opened the door of the cage.

"I know you feel lonely too." Rusty clenched his jaw. He stood firm in his word. Suddenly he remembered a conversation he had, not too long ago, about taking responsibility. "And I know I'm asking for a lot." His upper lip curled, his body reacting strangely to this rare case of acknowledgement and awareness. Perhaps it could have been... Guilt.

It was your turn to be surprised. This was uncommon, unnatural. You could not quite decipher if he was genuine or not. The longer you stared at him, studying and scrutinizing him, the harder it became to figure out what was going on inside his head. However, you noticed a shift.

Rusty knew he was getting to you. You no longer had the entire control over this conversation. He reentered your house and your life. While you told him you did not want him back, your body was saying something completely different. You expected him to visit, yet you dressed up so lightly in a shirt that hugged your curves and pants he could easily rip open. You never missed an occasion to drink him in, to appreciate the countless hours he spent at the pool to swim through his thoughts. The tough version of you that opened the door with an anger-filled soul softened up faster than he had imagined.

You eyed him up and down again. "This isn't going to end well." You spoke mostly to yourself. He heard you, but did not acknowledge the bad omen.

Rusty knelt before you. Not once did he break eye contact while he crawled, bringing your words into reality. He leaned back when he reached your legs and waited. He waited for you to tell him no, knowing it would only make him crave it more. Rusty rarely took no for an answer anyway.

You reached your hand to stroke his hair. You waited, too. You waited for him to realize he was taking the wrong decision. You waited to gather enough courage, although you were not too sure what to used that courage for.

He leaned into your hand that slid down to his cheek. You reminded him that the chase of thrills and butterflies could hardly compete with someone who had the magical power of calming him down, of making the whole world disappear.

You leaned forward and reached for his glasses that you gently removed. You took a moment to admire the sight of him: the muscles of his thighs almost bursting through his jeans, his chest heaving as if his hoodie made him so hot that he was melting, his eyes begging for your permission.

He watched you set his glasses away on the couch, safe and sound. He turned his head back to you while you lifted yourself off the couch to take off your sleeping pants. Rusty helped you pull them off, he threw them as far away as he could. He decided for you that there was no turning back. He then placed his hands on your knees, ready to part your legs open.

"I'm gonna regret this." You would, but Rusty would not. You locked eyes with him again and drowned into his darkened gaze. "You better make sure it's worth it."

Rusty faced a dilemma: he was unsure whether he wanted to take his time and savour the moment or dive into it head first. The throb of his cock, confined under his clothes, decided for him.

Your body showed no resistance to his touch, your legs opened easily with the light pressure he applied. His tongue licked a long stripe on your inner thigh while he made his way to your core.

You adjusted your position, sitting more lazily on the couch while he pulled you closer to the edge of the seat. He peppered kisses on your pussy before he used his thumbs to spread it open for him. At the first taste, he was addicted. More so, he was reminded of the addiction that had him sneaking out day and night just to eat you out.

Your back arched, pressing yourself against his mouth when he sucked on your clit. You fought back your moans, but, once again, your body betrayed you.

"Missed you so much," Rusty spoke against your skin. He spat on your pussy and caught the drops that dripped down with his tongue. He made a mess, not that he had to try very hard for it. You were already wet for him, he liked to think it was just a reflex you had failed to break since the day he left. "I missed you so fucking much."

You placed a hand on his head, pulling on his short hair. You refused to believe his words, but they sounded so nice. Almost honest.

Rusty began to lap at your folds, making his nose bump against your clit. He swallowed the juices that leaked from your entrance, but he was still left craving more.

You gasped loudly when his tongue teased your hole. You pressed his face against you, as if he could get even closer than he already was.

Rusty palmed at his rock hard cock, moaning into your pussy as he did that. He touched himself over his clothes while he finally focused on your aching clit, flicking his tongue on it to make you squirm. He tried to fight against the movements of your hips, making sure his mouth never left you.

Your legs started to close around Rusty's face, which did not bother him in the slightest. You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch him while he brought you closer to the edge. He just looked so beautiful.

The vein on his temple was bulging, almost pulsating to match his heart beat. He let go of his crotch and helped you to put your thighs on his broad shoulders, encourage you to let go, to give in.

You were not ready to satisfy him just yet. You wanted this moment to last, you wanted it to be worth the guilt and regret you would experience the moment he would walk out the door.

That only made him hungrier. He devoured you like it was the last time, he shared the mutual feeling that it could very well be. He pulled away from you just long enough to catch his breath one last time. He was determined to get what he wanted from you.

In a matter of seconds, your vision got blurry and your toes started to curl.

Rusty's moans only made the sensations greater while his tongue worked you over and had your entire body shaking for him.

You did not need to speak, to tell him to keep going, he knew what to do. He knew how to make you feel better than anyone else ever could. That remained one of his biggest problems, he was a heartless cheater but he was just so fucking good at it.

He slowed down until your thighs relaxed around him and he helped to set them down, still wide open for him to admire the mess he made between your thighs. You were dripping of your own wetness and of his spit. He could have kept going all night, but he had a more urgent need to take care of. He scrambled back on his feet and, without a word, he took off the rest of his clothes.

You did the same, not without admiring his body and especially the throbbing and leaking cock that he stroked.

He admired you too: the way your clit throbbed for him, how your forehead was covered with a layer of sweat despite just sitting there and doing nothing besides screaming while you were cumming.

He surprised you with a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth. You did not want to reciprocate, you wanted to pull away and to protect yourself from falling harder for this man. It was simply pointless. You kissed him back with the same passion that left you both gasping for air.

Rusty helped you to change positions so that you turned around and you were kneeling on the couch and you leaned on the back of the furniture. He leaned forward to kiss your shoulder and all the way down your back. He wanted to print the memory of you in his mind.

Neither of you felt brave enough to speak. You let your bodies do the talking with moans and grunts that blended into a melody while Rusty pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance. His tongue failed to prepare you for the delicious stretch of his cock.

He squeezed your ass cheeks open, trying to catch a glimpse of your pussy gripping on him. That was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He helped you arch your back, taking in the perfect position for him to use your pussy to get off. You felt so fucking good, so tight and wet around him. How could he have waited so long to feel you again? How did he manage to wait all this time?

You bit on your lip so hard that it tasted faintly of blood when he bottomed out. He stopped moving for a few moments, letting you adjust to him.

He pressed his toned chest against your back, cooing at you. When he felt your walls relax around his length, he started moving. The small but deep thrusts made tears pool into your eyes.

You held on the back of the couch for dear life when he fucked you harder, when he let you feel every inch of him nice and deep.

Rusty grunted louder and louder. The noises echoed in your apartment, filling the silence alongside the sound of your skin slapping against his. He was getting closer than he wanted to to admit it, so he stalled again.

You felt his hands on your skin, gliding down your arms. He held your hands in his, making the cushion of the couch cave in under the pressure. You looked down at his left hand, but your eyes closed blissfully before you could notice whether he was wearing his wedding ring or not. Your skin was so hot too, you could not even feel it the metal.

You could not feel anything else than Rusty's cock that was balls deep inside of you or his lips that sucked a few marks on your shoulder.

He kissed his way to your neck, where he nibbled and licked. He was buying time and you could feel it. You could hear it too, with the whimpers that came out of his mouth. He murmured at your ear while he marked you. "I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum."

"Pull out, just, fuck," your voice sounded hoarse from the moans. "Just pull out!"

Rusty cursed under his breath, his thrusts felt more like twitches than anything. His left hand moved down to squeeze on your hip, a rough and bruising grip. "I can’t," his body pressed down on yours. You could barely stay up on your knees. "You feel too fucking good on me."

"No! No, no…" You wanted to get him to move, or even to get off him. Anything really, but your pussy clenched on him with vice-like grip. It was already too late.

Rusty held your hip and your hand tight, giving you no room to escape. He grunted at your ear while he emptied himself in you. Multiple ropes of cum coated your walls and made both yours and his eyes roll to the back of your heads. It felt so good, so wrong yet so right. He should not have done it, he should have pulled out and avoid another situation. He never learned his lessons. This was forbidden. He loved it even more.

"Rusty! That was so fucking stupid." You shouted, there was more shock than anger in your voice. Your poor attempts at squirming out of his embrace failed. Your pussy milked him to his last drop.

The room went painfully silent. No moans, no skin slapping, no couch squeaking. Nothing. There was nothing but erratic breaths and the gears turning silently in your minds. What did he do? He did what he needed to do. He did what he knew you wanted him to do. Even if you told him otherwise, even if you tried to convince yourself of the opposite. "I'm sorry."

It was crystal clear that his apology was empty. As if the lack of conviction in his voice was not enough to prove it, the slow thrusts of his hips sealed the deal.

Languid strokes that made him appreciate the warmth he had craved for so long. "I know, this was wrong." He pressed his clean shaven cheek against yours. Slowly, he picked up the pace until he properly fucked you against the couch. "I'm so fucking sorry." He punctuated each word with a thrust that made you moan louder and louder. He was not going to stop anytime soon. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you until he was ready for a second load.

Only Rusty could fuck you this good. He made sure you learned that lesson, rewarding you with orgasms the more you surrendered to the pleasure he shamelessly gave you.

*~*~*

You felt Rusty's arm slide away from your body, goosebumps spreading on your skin from the sudden lack of warmth. You tried to stay immobile, although your eyes fluttered from struggling to stay closed. You knew he would leave. He always did.

He knew he would leave. He could not stay. He could not stay and drag you down with him once more. Rusty had hurt enough people for the time being, he needed to learn to be careful. To calculate the risks. The risks were too high when they involved you.

A part of you had hoped it would be different this time. Maybe he would stay for breakfast. Maybe he would offer to shower together and go at it again. Maybe he would make another promise he would inevitably break.

Rusty surprised you with a kiss to your cheek, one that lingered and communicated more than words could convey in the moment. He stood up on his tired legs and he stepped over your body to search for his clothes.

You opened your eyes a bit, squinting to catch a glimpse of his naked body roaming around your place. He looked so beautiful, so irresistible. His large back, his muscular legs, his toned ass that he quickly covered with his boxers. You could admire him for days on end. He would never grant you so much time in his presence.

He turned around, guilt and regret stabbed him in the stomach. Unfamiliar feelings. You looked so beautiful, so tempting. The delicate features of your face, the curves of your body, your steady breathing that he'd love to fall asleep to again. He wished he could stay with you and forget about the rest of the world.

You felt his eyes on you. You felt him stare and linger on the marks he left on your body, on the other places he'd love to bruise for his own pleasure.

Before he got riled up and, most importantly, before he failed once more to think with his brain, he finished dressing up in a hurry. If he made it back home before sunrise, no one would know about his escapade.

"Wait." Your mouth spoke despite your mind yelling at you to stay quiet and to pretend to sleep a little longer.

Rusty froze in place. He refused to turn around and look at you. Unless you asked him to.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around your body that he had seen one too many times; your body that he could not even see in the moment. You used the blanket as a shield. An armour to brace for the upcoming impact. "Is she," you cut yourself off. "Was she special?"

You watched his torso rise and fall from the several deep breaths he took before answering. "Very." He did not need one more interrogation, one more trial.

You nodded slowly. "Am I special?"

You watched him experience a myriad of emotions, just by the change in his breathing and how his body tensed up while he searched for an honest answer. This question was a trap.

"Very." He repeated in a whisper. "The most special."

You snickered. His answer felt like just as much of a trap as the question you asked. If you had been the most special to him, why did he pursue Carolyn? Why did he have this grand affair with her and not with you? Why did he risk everything for her and not for you?

As if he could hear the questions running through your mind, he spoke again. "You're the only person I've tried my hardest to protect." He referred to his children that he hurt and sacrificed, to his wife that he lied to and cheated on... To his mistress who died because of his insatiable lust.

It was only then that you finally accepted to face the truth: nobody knew who you were, in relation to Rozat Sabich. He kept you in the shadows, he locked you in a cage. He protected you in this bubble of stolen kisses and broken promises.

If nobody knew that you two shared a long and complex history, he would never have to involve you in this situation more than he already did the night before. He would not need yet another alibi to cover up the messy trail he left behind.

You held your head in your hands. You hated to see him leave, each time felt like it got closer to being the last time he would walk out of your life for good.

Rusty put on his hoodie and fixed his glasses. He was now facing you, but it was his turn to need an armour so he maintained the distance between the two of you. He stared at you, time felt like it had stopped. His lips parted open to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth.

However, you turned to look at him just in time to catch him mouth the dangerous words I love you. You smiled sadly at him with a tear falling down the same cheek he kissed. It was your way to say I love you too.

And just like that, Rusty opened the door and left without another glance in your direction. The wall between the two of you built itself back up in an instant. That way, he protected you from the world. Most importantly, he protected you from himself. All the history between the two of you would remain a secret.

You were his best kept secret.

[diejager]

hiiiiii like i've wanted to send u a request for like a while and i'm so happy i finally got u

i sadly forgot my og idea buuuuuut luckily i got a new one cus i'm bestie besties with a lurker who is like a friend with a writer cus they know each other irl and cus she gave me a lil spoilie

i wanna use like what i was told for dis request

like ik the thing is about a champion/warrior and their god and like it's a certain king being absolutely PATHETIC for like the first one (like ik my opinion cus i luv pathetic men and like i wanna know ur ideas about this)

like i love the idea of cod boys being a god or champion cus like y'know the smut that can be made

so could i request my second fav boy soap or even ghost being a SIMP like full on worshipping their god after hunting for their pretty

LUV u darlin and like KEEP ON writing because i am GOBBLIN up everything u and my other favs make but make sure u also rest

Cw: God/Champion stuff??, inaccurate Greek mythology, worshipping, offering/gifts/sacrifice, oracle, tell me if I missed any. Note: this reminds me of… the name’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember exactly who wrote about this before. Could you also send me the @ of your writer friend? I’d like to credit them if possible. And thank you! Just make sure to take breaks in between of reading, yeah? You have to rest your eyes every hour or so.

Johnny couldn’t believe his eyes when he stumbled into this small sanctuary outside the sacred precinct, outside any protective walls and guarded cities. Nestled into the side side of a mountain, the marble stones carved intricately in pretty vines and gentle flowers only to be placed in an isolated place. Away from any travellers and warriors, and hidden away from prying eyes of thieves and charlatans. This little, marble shrine made of white marble, painted murals and gold ordained altar - one of the prettiest he’s seen - was left near forgotten, overgrown with fauna and collecting dust. 

And despite that, the statue that stood behind the altar, tall and imposing, curves soft and tunic flattering, the Goddess loomed over him with a shadow of warmth and compassion, much unlike the statues of the ruling Gods and Goddesses he was used to —it was ethereal. Your image was one of love and care, a stark dichotomy to the arrogance and self-importance of Zeus and his siblings. You were welcoming towards him when they spurned him for his foreign appearance: a child of slaves that had bought their freedom, a potent sign of determination and strength.

“Perhaps that Oracle wasn’t crazy,” he gawked at the falling leafage, ribbons of round leaves hiding the entrance, parting like a curtain to the main stage of a theatre.

He had tried his luck with the Oracle of Delphi, in a drunken daze that failed to strip him from his embarrassing misadventures around Delphi’s bars and temple. Johnny had wanted to see what all the fuss was about, the mile long travel many made to see her and her prophesies. He wanted to know if she was a true oracle or a scam, a charlatan like many others, but lo and behold, she was blessed with the sight. 

He still remembered her words, her words spoken from the Gods’ whims, giving him the blessing of finding a Goddess he would willingly kneel to, one that would show him the same love and devotion he gave. She foretold that he would meet a Goddess of Health and Hunting that he wanted to worship, a give and take cycle —of life and death. And here he stood, before the statue of a benevolent Goddess he knew he already loved.

You were a minor Goddess, able to gift your champions with totems and blessings, but not a miracle. Your sacred temple was warm, the air filled with the scent of fresh spring and dewy mornings, candles miraculously lit, wrapping the room in a golden embrace that felt akin to a mother’s kiss. Johnny’s eyes wandered around the room, taking it in while he walked to the altar, he stared at the dusty and empty marble, a sad sight for a Goddess so warm.

He searched around his belt, looking around his clothes and padded leather for an offering to wake you up. Something simply - anything - would work, if only to rouse you from your slumber, be it a year or a century long sleep, he would wake you and dub himself your champion. He picked a pelt, an apt offering for a Goddess of Health and Hunting. It was freshly skinned and cured, brushed with care and killed with sympathy. He wasn’t a ruthless killer or an avaricious hunter, he took what he needed and left what he didn’t. 

Nodding at the brown pelt, he wiped away the dust that had collected and placed it on the marble, taking care to place it flat and straightened the fur. He took a step back to admire the sight, eyes filled with wonder at the sudden glow, bathing him in a calming light. He felt better, his once aching arms gone, his bruises gone and his strength returned. Waking you had brought a blessing, you had healed him of his aches and pains, restoring him to his peak.

“Welcome,” he heard you whisper, your voice sounding like a bird’s song, pretty and awestricking, “Will you become my champion, dear warrior?”

How could he say no at your sweet plea? You were the warmest being he has ever met, your very essence an embrace full of passion. 

“If yer wish me so, Goddess.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled and he’d never felt so lovesick before, his heart so full, yet light.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[strawberrycheeks-and-glasses]

Listen to Me

Tsukishima x f!reader | rated E | 5k

Summary: Failing one of your classes, you remember a flyer you saw on campus offering ‘on call’ tutoring sessions. So, in your desperation, you call and develop a crush on the guy’s voice on the other end. Pretty soon, things start to heat up.

A/n: this is very self indulgent porn tbh, pls don’t judge me but I had a craving for a voice kink and the thought of Kei whispering in my ear gave me goosebumps. So~

“Hey there,” the smooth sounding voice on the other end of the phone says, sending a shiver down your spine.

You had seen a flyer on campus for a call in tutoring session a while back and as a joke, you snapped a picture of it for future reference. Well, good thing you did because guess who’s failing chem?

“H-hi,” you hesitate, being completely thrown off by the sound of this guys voice.

“Hello,” he greets again. “Did you need help in a subject, or are you one of those girls who call because they heard I have nice voice?”

“People actually do that? I mean you sound, like a normal guy,” you shrug, fiddling with your pencil.

“I’ve been told my voice is soothing to the ear,” he replies. “Not too deep, but not too high, and with a tone that is both unbothered, yet still attentive.”

“I just meant that you sound familiar, is all,” you scoff a laugh, rolling your eyes at how pretentious he’s sounding.

“I get that a lot,” he chuckles. The sound vibrating through the speaker tickles your ear. “Was there something I could help you with?”

“Oh, right,” you almost forgot why you called in the first place.

Talking you through your chemistry homework like he’s in the same class, he teaches you how to find the compounds and use your graphic calculator with ease. And, yeah, okay, his voice is kind of soothing, but he doesn’t need to know you think that.

“Holy shit, I think I understand now,” you laugh, amazed at how simple it actually is once it was explained in a way you could grasp. “You’re pretty smart aren’t you?” You tease him.

“Well, yeah,” he says, and you can hear him rolling his eyes at your stupid question.

“Okay, nerd,” you playfully insult him.

“This nerd just saved your ass from failing chemistry,” he rebuttals. “And the next time you have to call me for help, I’m charging you. Only the first one’s free.”

“Ugh, fine,” you say, pointedly, ending the call.

Please read the rest on ao3

Also, I’m not sure who to credit for this pic that my friend had saved from Pinterest, the artist is no longer active on Twitter and there is no watermark or signature on the art (I even reversed Google image searched and nothing came up), but if you know who made it pls lmk so I can tag them or link their art!!

Anyway, this is the Kei I think of when I wrote this fic, just to get an idea of why I needed to write this fic 💁🏻‍♀️ (also, my friend said Kei biting on the pen is slut behavior, and I agree I agree I agree)

[lizziehatters-teacards]

Fading Embers Of Love

A ghosty bois inc. story

Chapter 1

NOTES:

Auther does not know anything about professional work environments and has a meek understanding of schizophrenia

Charecters are not accurate to their original selves

I wrote this feeling nostalgic cuz I was introduced to the mcyt fanfics through ghosty bois inc. please proceed to read with the idea that it's still 2021-23

First person naration from Tommy's perspective

Original idea has been proposed by

@/wolfythewitch

Inspired by fears to Fathom, woodbury getaway

Chapter 2

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌓🌒🌑

I walk up the old familiar path. I remember how I use to run up this path every day after school. The same porch, front yard, everything. This place brings back memories, old fond memories. "Well there you go son! All your boxes outta' the bunker" the driver said as he puts the last of my boxes at the porch. "Thankyou good man, here's your pay, keep the extra change!" I gave him the money. He thanked me for the generous tip and drove off back to where he came from.

This house use to be my childhood home. I use to live here with my brothers and father. But that was before the fire. I lost everything that day. I remember how injured i was after that event. Everyone said it was a miracle i survived. But I'd say I was the most unlucky specimen then.

I stood at the door for a moment, only looking at the door. I shouldn't be nervous, there was no one inside the house, but there could be. Not a burglar, not someone living in rental. But apparitions, of the past.

It's no secret that I could see ghosts, i remember when i first started to see them. It was when the funeral took place, and every event that took place after that, till the day i turned 25 and even after that.

a deep breath in. And out. I unlock the door. I shouldn't be afraid. I walked inside to see everything was almost the same as i remember. Almost. Most of the renovation that took place in the home of the damages changed most of the interior infrastructure. I honestly wasn't surprised, i was expecting this, however i still was a bit disappointed (for no goddamn reason).

My aunt, Aunt Puffy, held ownership of the house after the incident, you gotta give her all the credit for not letting it be taken by some other landlord, or get demolished as it was already damaged. She renovated the house as a memory of her brother, my father. However she wasn't allowed to keep the house idle as it is, so she had to turn it into a guest house. The house apparently has a pretty bad rating (3½ out of 5 star rating) on the website, but i didn't pay attention, didn't care. I asked my aunt before moving in for a few days, instead of directly renting it from the website.

The main reason why I decided to come back after 14 years to live in the house was just to get away from the city life, and constant working hours as a content writer slash director. I might be boasting, but I'm one of the youngest content writers who are in high demand in the film industry. Even though it's an honorable position, it gets awfully exhausting, thus this get away.

Once I brought in the last of the boxes, I close the door and looked back into the massive drawing room. At distance, the living room was there and right opposite to it was the kitchen and behind all that was the door to the backyard. We did have a pretty big backyard.

I started to scower the house looking for the right room for me. I most probably just wind up in my own room. I walked into each of the rooms, and boy did they changed alot! My father's room has been changed the most, they forgot to add a bed in the room. Meanwhile my brother's rooms still had the replaced bed, but no other such furniture other than a cabinate and a small desk in each room. Even my room had it. It's just my room had a broader desk than theirs.

I went back downstairs to get my stuff. You know, I didn't mean to leave this house, I actually wanted to come back here after I got better in the hospital, it was hard for the adults to tell a 11 year old that his family is dead, and the house burnt down. I found out, when it was the day of the funeral. Well right before the funeral to be honest. But it was also then, when i realised I could see the dead. Only problem was I didn't know that those were the actual dead.

I remember, i couldn't walk because of the injuries the accident caused, so I had to be on a wheel chair, with a plastered arm and bandages accross the side of my face. While everyone was giving their speeches, everyone was looking up at the person who spoke. While i was looking down, not out of sadness, but out of fear. Everyone was wearing black, with a white rose in their pockets or hands. All but three people wore that. And those three people weren't meant to be there, standing.

I saw my brothers and my father, standing right behind their cascades. Three cascades aligne side by side, and right behind them they stood. I dont remember what happened but i remember them looking at me, or I think they were, that's when I first saw. You are probably thinking, i should have been happy to see them. But it was too painful to look at. Burns, and wounds, mangled appearances, almost like the zombies in movies. It was the most horrific thing i saw, but nobody else saw them, only I did. I was young, i was terrified. I tried to focus on what my aunt said, and i assumed eventually they will leave

I stayed till the cascades were sunk into their graves. Soon Buried. I remember how my aunt sobbed, i remember how i wept. But I kept looking down, as they didn't leave. I didn't recognise them to be honest. The fire impacted their looks so much that looked nothing but terrifying. They didn't do anything, they just kept looking.

I was the first leave after the barial. The elders complain that I had no emotion for my family, but my aunt stood against them just saying that it was too much already for a little boy to bare. But it was none of that, I just couldn't bare the awfully terrifying faces of them.

It was only after I was when I was living with my then foster family, that i realised who they were. Till then I've already seen more than 3 ghosts. I did tell my aunt, and my foster parent (who is my adopted father now), Sam, about it. I was then appointed with a psychiatrist (as if a therapist wasn't enough). I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and they made me took pills for it. However the pills were of no use and I had to come clear to Sam about it. It sorta made sense thinking about it now, but at the same time it didn't.

[askaceattorney]

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Hm.... that's interesting.

Co-Mod: I doubt you're the only Tumblr user who's ever done that. It makes for a fun surprise, doesn't it?

Dear Jacob Dilworth,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: We just choose whatever mod name that hasn't been taken by the other formers or current mods. Using avatars is a personal choice.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Some we get from the sprites gallery, from older mods or customize the sprites to manipulate their expressions or the color of widget.

Co-Mod: I made the "evil smirk" sprite (although it was originally her holding back laughter), and credit for the "covering Widget" sprite goes to the Mod. Sometimes you just have to do something different to get the point across, you know?

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I didn't get the reference, which is one of the unfortunate things about references. Whoever gets it or not will depend on those aware of the reference.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: There have been some letters, and I've said this at least two or three times. I will change the names upon announcement.

I had originally thought that the game would be released around November, but it came out earlier than expected. How soon I will officially use the localized names will depend on how soon I and some other mods watch any Let's Plays. For now, I ask for patience and use the fan game names for now.

Dear Anthony,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Yes, it's been alright. I hope things are going well for you as well.

Co-Mod: Same, and same. Thanks for asking!

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: We count the days from our time zone and, even if you're from a different time zone, it shouldn't go over five or at least reach six.

So far, I don't recall your letters ever exceeding five or, if it did, well... I guess one letter didn't get answered?

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: We already used that idea. Remember when we answered rule-breaking letters?

If you're meaning that the characters answer it, no. There's a reason we set up those rules. You can request one rule to be broken, such as lifting the fourth wall, but not all of them.

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I'm not sure what this is responding to, you wrote two letters in this post. Even if I did, I don't know what this has anything to do with either of those two letters.

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Thanks, I guess. I don't think any of us are Muslim?

Co-Mod: I don't think so, but I've never asked any of them, so who knows? Hope your year is a happy one, too!

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: How you concluded it to mean that the "Anonymous Please" tag means WE are telling you to be anonymous and not YOU telling us to remain anonymous is beyond me.

Co-Mod: We could make it say "Anonymous Please and Thank You," you know. Might as well count your blessings.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Askbrokenage,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I forgot about that letter. I think Mod Justice answered that one years ago.

(Referenced Letter) (Referenced Video) - Warning: Includes a joke with a Confederate Flag

Dear Guquis,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Ah, that explains. I've never watched this show. Admittedly, the joke is funny for how random it is.

-The Mods

[forlorn-plushie]

Torn between "I shouldn't write an essay in the tags" and "these are ancillary thoughts that have nothing to do with the post"

The post was about STEM dudes falling for scams because they didn't learn basic rhetoric because they skipped and cheated through English classes. Specifically it mentioned college English classes, which I was convinced very briefly didn't exist - I forgot for a moment that I had tested out of mine by taking advanced HS literature (AP, for the US folks who know that acronym - I know there's an equivalent in Europe but I don't remember the name)

I remember that I took a good number of English-like courses in college. I was in the funny English Building, actually three fused together with uneven floors that were fun to navigate, quite often for a computer science kid.

I remember Essays, where two weeks of classes, something like seven hours, were overtaken by the class trying to explain asexuality to the teacher. The readings were short things, some pointed, others meandering. I like to write essays, in that style.

I remember Philosophy of Emotions, where we went over a half-dozen philosophers and developed our own theories and models. It was all talking. I loved those classes - where we all read a text, came in, and chatted about it for a while. I should have joined a book club so much sooner, when I write it out that's obviously something I'd vibe with.

I remember Linguistics, which taught me how to hold a conversation. I reference the maxims of conversation to this day. Learning about phonetics helped me with voice training later on. The whole thing fascinates me still. I love languages.

I started reminiscing about that AP class, the one that got me out of college English, where all but like seven people dropped out after the first semester, which got them their English 4 credit - they probably never intended to stick it out. The teacher seemed like a bitch, but she was fair and kind - just a bit of a coarse voice, a stringent affect, and a mean mug!

That second half was so much fun. We did first-read Shakespeare. Our analyses were our own. I wrote the 'exemplary' paper twice. We talked about lenses and the idea of literary analysis made sense for the first time in twelve years of schooling. At the end she read us "Oh the Places You'll Go" and I cried. At graduation my mom gifted me a copy of the book. She had no idea. I cried again. I don't think I ever introduced the two. They'd have got along well, I think.

I miss school. I really miss college, to get back to the original tangent. I miss my main duty being to learn things. I miss working on fun projects with other people.

Like, I had classes on Essays and American Religious Cults and Philosophy of Emotions and Celtic Mythology. They were FUN. Most of my professors were kind and interesting and I wish I was more myself at the time so I could have really been there. And so I could really chew out the one guy who had tenure and sucked in every way imaginable. Fuck that guy. I wish I could have made lasting connections with so many more folk.

Well, that's happened already. We've got places to go, now.

[dollarbin]

Garth Hudson:

Dollar Bin Jedi Master, 1937-2025

Good old Garth, the Yoda of popular white man music between 1965 and 1978, died today. Did he make great music outside those years? Surely! But I haven't listened to any of it so let's focus in on what I do know:

He taught the men around him - Dylan, Robertson, Helm, Danko and Manuel - how to do musical handstands with just one paw on the ground while levitating musical rocks and droids. In the beginning he literally had a job description that included teaching his bandmates how to play. The men used their free hands to alternatively do drugs or make high art. Often they did both at the same time, all while Garth nodded sagely from behind an organ, horn or accordion.

Garth was perfectly happy to be the least comely man of rock, which makes him, in my book, the coolest guy in the entire scene. He wasn't two feet tall and green, sure, but a Handsome Grandson was he not; the guy was years older than everyone else and was too busy literally rewiring amps, falling asleep during rehearsals, forging arrangements and marrying Bach to Chest Fever to employ a stylist. Same here!

Plus, until this moment I would have told you that Hudson wrote one single song - total - for The Band and that it's a stone cold classic. But I just looked now and his songwriting credit for We Can Talk from the band's debut record Music From the Big Pink is a figment of my imagination: Richard Manuel penned the track. But I stand by giving Hudson credit: the whole piece is so musically complicated that he must have been heavily involved. Anyway: A dozen or so years ago my friend Eva was about to have her first baby so I made her a playlist - burned onto a CD (remember that whole weird phase? These days we just burn effigies... ) - of songs I thought it'd be groovy to labor to. I felt proud of the mix: This Monkey's Gone to Heaven struck me as an ideal song for launching one's offspring into the world to: "Then God is Seven! Then God is Seven!" That's how I'd wanna get born. Anyway, I played the collection to my wife before slipping it in the mail for Eva. My wife had given birth, without drugs, thrice at that point, and two of the times she'd done so at our own home largely without support: suffice it to say that she knew how to launch pumpkin sized people out of a hole the size of a peanut in her own body like no one's business. But when she heard that We Can Talk from The Band's debut record, with its 16 different time signatures and its menagerie of voices, attitudes and force lightning, was my idea of what would inspire a good contraction or two, my wife roundly declared that the song and my selection of it was proof positive that men had no idea - whatsoever! - about anything related to the productive use of one's own orifices. "All men know how to do," she declared, "is barf, chug liquor and copulate."

Well, she's surely right, by and large. Which reminds me, there's still time tonight for one more drink! I'll chug it in memory of Garth.

But my wife forgot one thing: men may be incapable of heroically issuing new life to the planet, but they can, on occasion, open their pie holes and create some serious joy through song.

RIP Garth!

[ourpickwickclub]

About the PR thing, didn't Wes Vause team up with ML's PR lady to form a new PR company a while back, with Blake as his first client? I can't think of her name. It's like a weird name starting with E or something. Can Wes really be trusted, since he used to work for ML and is now partners with her PR person? Seems sus to me. I hope he is actually loyal to Blake and doesn't share info, but from the little I have seen of him, I don't trust him much. Also about ML's copycat addiction, after she released a song last year, someone in Blake's tag on twitter said that it resembled We Can Reach the Stars. Can anyone confirm that is true? I don't remember the name of the song, have never heard one of her songs and I'm not about to start. If true though, that would be the ultimate psycho move - always trying to leech off others ideas. It reminds me of the interview back in 2010 with CMT when Blake said that he had written Delilah and when ML came back and heard it, she tried to weasel her way into the writer's credits, and I was so happy when he stood firm and didn't give her writing credit, especially since he wrote it completely by himself and she had NOTHING to do with it. Can you believe a person would do that? I heard that Morgan Wallen said the same thing about ML, that she got her friend Nicole Gallyon to get her into a writing session with them so she could add a word and get writing credit on one of his songs. Anyway, here is the excerpt from Blake's interview. I am so proud of him for standing his ground and not letting her manipulate him. I just wish he had done the same for The House That Built Me (her fake tears in the truck while they listened to it - cuz she knows what a softy he is) and Over You (her rushing him to decide about it since her album was coming out - like I know it's about your dead brother, but my album is coming out so I need to know now if I can put it on there, like wut? If he hadn't decided by that point on his own to give it to her, she should have just let it go instead of forcing him to decide just for her own benefit.)

CMT.com (March 19th 2010)

What was Miranda’s reaction when she heard “Delilah”?

Miranda’s first reaction was to weasel her way onto the song as a writer. She heard the song just a few hours after I wrote it. I wrote it very quickly one day about the fact that her dog was ignoring me when I was supposed to be babysitting it... I’ve joked before that if her dog is in the highway and I’m right there next to it and a semi is coming, I know who she’s going to save. It’s going to be her dog. She loves the song, but I’m the only writer on it.

====

Also, I forgot to mention, how sad is it that B knew that ML cared more about her DOG than him?????? makes me wanna cry. There is truth in every one of his jokes. Once when he was interviewed after 2011, they asked him if ML would be a good mother, and he said that if she treats the kid like she treats her dogs, then the kid will be golden...i remember thinking what a weird thing to say...like does she treat him so badly that he can't even use that as an example for how she would treat a kid?

.

[redheadedbrunette]

Cool so I reread the series and I noticed a lot more than I did the first two times I read it which is fun. The relationship between Ben and Erica is more explored than I remembered which is good and I can definitely see her character arc a lot clearer.

X is still my least favorite book and there’s absolutely a corner that Gibbs wrote himself into on that one unless he’s entirely giving up on the idea of having Ben and co. be secret agents.

Ben’s a lot more of a competent spy than I remember too, which is refreshing.

I also completely forgot that all 10 of these books happen in the span of like a year and a half which is hilarious.

Oh and the age gap seems like something that would be a lot more of an issue if there weren’t only like 300 people in the world they could have contact with. Even Erica and Josh had a bit of a gap since she had to have been 14/15 or so while he was 17/18. A gap of 2.5 years would be problematic for normal kids but I think different rules would apply.

I'm so glad it was clearer on a second go around! Honestly, I didn't even really see it all that clearly until I reread the series a couple years ago (SSAS came out my first week of college) and had a lot more experience with how stories work on a fundamental idea. Erica's development is very much in the background, but when you're looking for it (excluding SSPX, but that's a different rant) it's so clear and interesting and I love it.

SSPX bothers me for SO MANY REASONS the biggest of which is that Mr. Gibbs puts the message before the overarching plot of everything, and then! It's not even a relevant message! Like, what twelve year old is hardcore believing QAnon (it's pretty obviously meant to be that or something similar). I feel like something could have been achieved and a message about privacy, like Murray makes getting a video of Ben part of some TikTok knockoff challenge, because that seems like a much more likely thing kids would do, but gotta make fun of people who remember what the news said two years ago and comparing it to what they say now! Can't have people with good memories! But yeah, it does shoot the series in the foot kind of, and I understand the reasoning behind why things were done the way they were! I just don't agree with it most of the time.

It's even funnier when you realize that it's not a year and a half evenly spread out, it's one mission his first year with five months before summer, one that summer, and seven his second year. Eight if you want to count SSGS and SSBI as different missions (I go back and forth as to whether or not I do). It's so funny. Please give poor Ben a break.

And yes! Ben is actually so much more competent than people seem to give him credit for sometimes. It's just that his skill set tends to be less flashy and useful in battle scenes, but he's very much the chess master of the group. He's the one planning and strategizing, and all the karate moves in the world aren't going to do you any good if you can't actually foil the plans.

My reasoning for why I'm okay with the age gap is because the narrative treats them as equals who are more or less in the same place in life. Like, yes she's two classes ahead of him, but for all intents and purposes, they're teamed up together constantly with others in Ben's class and I think Erica is the only one we really know about in her class (can't remember Chip's age, but he might be? idk, doesn't really matter). It's never dwelt on, and it bothers me when people try to make a deal about it! Like, they're not going to be in the same place in their lives forever. It's high school. Almost no one marries the person they dated in high school. I've long held that they'd break up sometimes after Erica graduates and starts her adult life while Ben is still in school (or something similar depending on how Mr. Gibbs decides to do things moving forward).

[ecofinisher]

Ecofinisher's crediting list for the "Ecofinisher 2.0 Sims 4 Game File" (Version 2)

(This is basically the same version, just switched the screenshots and added missing families. I meant to edit the other one, but I have no idea, Tumblr doesn't let me or my knowledge of this page is just too low)

https://www.tumblr.com/ecofinisher/747830238720016384/ecofinishers-crediting-list-for-the-ecofinisher?source=share

About two months ago I think, I was thinking about wanting to do another save file again on Sims 4, but I didn’t know when exactly. During a procrastination moment I got into with fanfic writing, I took a small break and did other things, got from a work friend a couple of notebooks since she knows I love to write and I wrote down something I dreamt once wondering if it could be turned into a plot…..then as it was actually something for Sims, I thought about writing it down as a family summary. Around that week, I gathered more ideas and noticed down, what I had in mind to do. From an instruction video, I read the many variations people used in their save files and I decided to use the content only from the gallery. Content made by other Simmers. There are a few families out there, that I still created or downloaded from my starter-times in the game, because it wasn’t enough or I didn’t have any family in mind to fit the plot.

Notes:

- This save file contains objects and clothings from the following pack: Get To Work, Cats and Dogs, Werewolves, My first pet (Free/UTB free) and Holiday Celebration (Free/UTB free).

-The following worlds were used in the save file: Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Brindelton Bay (1 new lot, the rest remains the same), Moonwood Hill. (1 new family is located there)

-The game should be free from any CC. There’s a possibility, that it could have something I have missed.

- I recently installed MasterController and some things I have fixed with it, rather than manually. *coughs* career.promote-cheats….you know, that way.

Moving on, here is the link, and it's packed inside a ZIP-file with a PDF file of all the buildings I screenshotted straight from the gallery with the original creator's name. The screenshots were too many for this single post only and it would be annoying to make more posts solely for that. The PDF file consists of 30 pages, but most of the sheets are just screenshots and the family that lives in it.

On the rest of this post, I have the crediting list for the households I downloaded from the Gallery. Go under the cut to check the screenshots out.

Link via Sims File Share:

Click down here:

Households (Inspired by Sims-media)

The Alto family. The red-marked is the original one from the gallery from user gemz123. The one you'll find in my game has base-game content only. I only have the mentioned packs above and tried to stay closer to the original.

The Alvi-McIrish household. (McIrish are based on the mother-daughter duo from Ts3's Single Moms household and the Alvi are the ones with the single divorcee Dad from Sunset Valley) I had the Alvi's saved a long time ago in my gallery and I couldn't track back the right creator. I assume it was hestiah23. I only remember redesigning their clothes back then. McIrish as seen in the red square was made by gemz123.

From gemz123 I have gotten her parents. As far as I know, the user hasn't made its own version of Blair as far as I know. So my current favorite version of Blair is from this user mentioned in the image. (Oh I also took screenshots to facilitate for everyone, when looking for those versions on the gallery.

Taken from my other save file I shared back in 2023. Here you see hestiah23, the original creator and the clothing were put into owned games to prevent them from being "naked" (Oh and Judy's a scientist, lol I forgot about that)

The Goode and Bad household from Twinbrook. Ah from the last sales I bought Ambitions and played with them. (It was the only family I was familiar with 😂Wish I had got the game earlier)

Where are my former PSP gamers at? Do you all remember Annie Howell, the bar girl? I remembered her existence and had to add her in the game as well, knowing that she was a werewolf in the game and I had the pack as well! TengGong had made a great Sims 4-version of them. If you own said packs, you're definitely going to enjoy having them in your game. I had to go with what I had and follow somehow the PSP design.

I had a different plot for them, but changed at a later point. I was meant to focus on either Kaylynn or Parker, but ended up getting the idea to make Iliana "the main character" Iliana being the workaholic we know suddenly finding herself lost and needing to find her way back to reality. The Langeraks and Zelda are shared separatly, but were made by the same user. Also gemz123. The dog is from the user rnr1975 and is the house dog of Iliana and served as her therapy dog during her low days. I picked a Leonberger, which only exist in the gallery by other users as the game didn't own one in the breeds list.

The Jones-Brown family. Also from Twinbrook. They're not part of the plan, they are homeless. I thought about adding Jenni, because of the summary of the Goode and Bad household.

Yeah, I gave Mortimer parents in the game. They're also from the gallery, just one of the two happens to be dead now. - They also are dressed differently in the game. Very hideous, sadly :/ If you got the packs above, you'll get this look as DolphinSimmer13 made 😍

The Sekemotos - OK, in the game they live separately. Yumi lives in a smaller house in Newcrest and Leighton is located in Oasis Springs with his toddler Sam. Everyone's favorite "legacy daddy" lives just like in the OG Sims 3 as a single Dad, just he might be interested in someone in this new town. If something is going to happen between them in the future.....it's up to you.

The Ursine household - Like girl, screw Jared Frio and everything, that happened in Sunset Valley. Take your daughter to a new place and raise her on you own. You have seen in life more men and women were doing the same with their kids and it's possible. Also from gemz123 - Simmers, seriously all his Sims 3-inspired Sims look so close to the original. This user so far has impressed me with how detailed the results were.

The Wainwrights - Owning the Get to Work park, they deserved to make an appearance somewhere in the game as well. "Eco, what idea did you even have for them? People barely know them?"

I stuck with the same plot as in Sims 3, just it progressed here 😂 I had read recently, that Oasis Springs is basically Strangetown, so....military, science freaks, weird shit.....why not?

Ok Ignore the name there, I had to remove their original kids from the save file and that was just my "emergency save name" - Just in case I save households during CAS, because you know.....freezes, crashes and mostly at the wrong moment. Luckily nothing has ever happened to me in the past weeks, but you never know. (As an avid fanfic writer I learned to press CTRL-S every 10 seconds to avoid trouble 😭)

They live separately in the game. Thornton had an affair with Jamie, while being married to Morgana. Both women figured it out and broke his heart and became friends. What happened next? Guess, who fulfilled Morgana's deepest desires? 😏

Households (Inspired by other media)

The Ritchi household. (In other names "The Megamind household)

They were both variations of them alone or together already. I preferred these two versions from two different users and set them together in the game. Roxanne doesn't need a lot of packs and Megamind is base game, so you wouldn't have a problem, when downloading them from the gallery.

Time & Space household (Inspired by youngest children of Clavell Jr, Langerak Jr and Caliente household)

On the right side, you'll see after whom the adult Sims are inspired by. If any of you have played or seen my previous Save File reviewed by Savythatsimmer around July 2023. This is where the Sims are from, just they're adults here. The household name already reveals that they're "time travelers" which are for some reason in this save file.

Kurtzberg household (Inspired by previous save file & Miraculous LB)

I had created them along with their "fanon kids" of mine in Sims 4 back in 2019 and reused them in this save file. Just like most of the families they didn't have a lore back then, so I made one based on their oldest daughter, who just like her father was shy and reserved, but things would eventually change in her new home in Willow Creek.

Couffaine (Inspired by Miraculous Ladybug and a post of Simmer Nikethesimmer)

Luka already existed in my game married to Marinette and their common son, Rouven. I had in mind to create a different family, but remembered I had Adrien somewhere in the gallery with his family and switched everything up and gave them kids with CAS-DNA thing two kids, then killed the kids' parents off for the drama of the summary 😂I can't recall the exact info of the summary, basically Luka saw Marinette on her dead-bed and promised to raise her children, despite not having any relation to them. Sounds weird? I dunno, it didn't back then. (Oh yeah they drowned in the game, because there is no other way to "make them have an accident"......Or I can say they died on a cruise like Toby's parents in Tales of Arcadia....Good idea....

Rodriguez household (Inspired by Snow Queen Mirrorlands and the two boys' "in-law rivalty" 😶)

Because canon didn't care about showing their relationship in the new movie nobody asked (OK we did, but SOMETHING WAY DIFFERENT) we can improvise with Sims 😂 Here Gerda is engaged with her boyfriend Rollan and lives with him together in a new house, but invited her younger brother Kai to live with them until he's old enough for an independent life. Kai has a hard time accepting Rollan in Gerda's life after a past incident and despite things having changed for the best, he still can't help it. Perhaps it's a brother-sister thing. It's up to you to see, if their relationship improves or not.

Lopes household (Inspired by the family of the same name from Mar Salgado, a Portuguese soap opera)

About the Live-Action pictures, they're just portraits from the channel's page of character introduction, this is why the clothing is so random. I had used another screenshot for each character and the family was created around 2017. The summary in the game is just like in the show, just downplayed.

I just ran out of pictures, the next family would also belong to the same show, but it would consist of 7 pictures, but I don't want to start or remove anything from here :/

This is all I got, if you want some bonus here are names of non-mentioned families :D.....Without pictures of course :/

Herzog = Inspired by random names in Dutch,.

Sarutobi = Names from Anime characters.

Kaufmann = Random gathered

Blanco = Enrique Iglesias and Nazaré novela parody.

Furtado = Based on Sims 3 character of mine. (Look he exists since 2009, Furtado I just took from Nelly Furtado, cause I liked her songs back then)

Disaster = Inspired by one Simpsons episode.

Lucia Noceda = Inspired by Luz Noceda from The Owl House and Lucia from GTA 6

Stanford - Inspired by the Madagascar movie.

Werewolves = Random wolf-themed names.

[524fangirl9479]

I just saw a thread as to how people have outsmarted their teachers and never got caught, so here is my story;

I am absolutely terrible, I mean, absolutely HORRIFIC, at environmental science. I had to take this class my Freshman year in high school and I HATED it. I do not understand it, it's so stupid in my opinion, and I don't care for that portion of science at all. So for the classes final project, we could pair up or we could do something on our own. Initially, I was paired up because I didn't want to do all of the work by myself, plus I had friends in the class, so I asked two of my friends if they wanted to work with me on it.

The project was to redesign something that is of everyday use and make it environmentally friendly; my idea was to make bamboo utensils, especially because a lot of people litter and toss the utensils they get from amusement parks away, if they were to decompose into the ground, it wouldn't affect the Earth as it is environmentally friendly. Well, my group didn't like the idea and we were going to do something else.

We were about a month away from turning in the final project and presenting it when two of the girls in my group got into a fight and we all split up on our own so we had to come up with something a month in advance to do for our project that could determine if we pass or fail this class.

I was happy because I could finally do my idea of the bamboo utensils and I did. Well, my teacher said that we had to come in with samples and I was too busy looking up research and making sure my notes were up to date to present that I completely forgot about the project I was presenting on and never made anything. I told my mom a week before I had to present it in class, she went onto Amazon to order me bamboo utensils, and by the time I had to present, my project was finished.

I presented everything, with shaky hands because public speaking is terrifying, and then I showed everyone the bamboo utensils that I passed off as my own.

What was unexpected was when my teacher said that we were going to be given a paper with two questions, "who had the most unique design?" and "whose presentation was the best?"

I wasn't expecting anything because I knew that there were presentations better than mine, so I just wrote down two random names and handed in the paper.

I asked to go to the bathroom and when I came back, my teacher was standing at the door holding a bag of gummies and a ring-pop telling me "congratulations." I was confused because all I did was go pee, but then he went on to explain that I had gotten the most votes for "who had the most unique design" in the entire class.

I took the ring-pop (it was the cherry flavor) and we still had around 10 minutes before class ended, so my teacher was calling everyone back for a little conference, telling you whether or not you passed or failed the class.

When it was my turn, I went back, sucking on my ring-pop, and my teacher told me that I passed with a 66%; the project got me 100% and that quite literally did determine whether or not I failed.

Time skip to when I graduated and I asked my mom if she remembered the environmental science project I did with the bamboo utensils. She said "yes," and I told her that I passed the utensils off as my own work and that was the only reason as to how I passed environmental science Freshman year in high school and she was flabbergasted. I am still not allowed to buy things for school as she doesn't trust me for not taking credit for the work in class.

[yanderefairyangel]

Reblogging to add some point if you don't mind. Anon, I don't know if you read this but originally, the death of the author is supposed to be a critical method of textual analysis that is focused around one of the 3 intentio of studying a media : the intentio operis, which is to say what the text says about itself. In other world, it's based on a textual reading in an intent to find what is it's true meaning. The real problem with that theory elaborated by Foucault and Barthes is that it may lead, as you point out to what is called the dictatorship of interpretation in which every interpretation is valid.

It's original goal was simply to cut it out with that obsession that literary studies had for the author's life since at the time, it was considered that the only way to know what a media truly meant was by studying the life of whoever wrote it/made it since literay critics were obssesed with trying to absolutely shoehorn X element of this author life into his work despite the lack of textual evidence backing this up, for example the Baudelaire expert that keeps giving a new identity to said woman in his poem "A une passante" completely missing the point that this poem was being as vague as possible about the identity of this woman for aesthetic and literay reason. When done seriously, however, this type of study of a text is actually a literal reading with several layers in which you don't try to deform what the text says but hold what the text says as it's true meaning, in that context someone that does use the death of the author like that can have the possiblity to present an interpretation to be invalidated, because a text will always bear a trace of its author's intentio in the final project in a way or another. Literary works can be easily misunderstood by us reader, so the idea of reading closely the text in an objective sight, without wondering what was the intent of the author can work because the text will necessarily reflects it in a way or another. Moreover, this concept was also in the same line as Proust begging to separate the artist from the men because they are 2 different personas of one individual and that artistic process being an intimate process, that is to say, taking place in private, and coming from the depth of their being cannot be known throught a study of their public character. So that didn't mean "we don't give credit to what the author says about their own work" but "the moment the author wrote down his text, the voice that we are seeking in his public character is dead, it's in the text, so we can find it based on the text alone" because ultimately, an author talking about his work would lead to him making his own commentary about it since he expect the reader to find what he will end up answering himself about his work.

A good example of this is Lolita. You actually never needed Nabokov to make a direct declaration that Humbert Humbert was unreliable because a close reading provide from falling into the trap of taking things at face value. He even had a prototype novel called The Enchanter that had a similar plot but told differently with a more objective point of view. I remember reading a detailed commentary focused on dissecting his writing using a special typing to illustrate the effect generated by the narration to help the reader observes that phenomenon on a brighter light, but I sadly forgot the title.

That's an actual concept that is precisely supposed to enfore the canon but seeing that fandom ended up leading it to the dictatorship of the reader actually doesn't surprise me... that's the problem with literary theories, they all have their good and their backwards, and for some reason people always ends up falling into the trap those theories tried to avoid as to not being considered flawed or not worth it. That and trying to apply it to a game that failed to convey it's story properly

Do you agree that anyone that uses death of the author as argument shouldn't be arguing about a text? Because according to them all interpretations are valid so why argue against other people's interpretations?

Mmh...

I guess it's part of the duality of fandom life - people want to talk about the game are very involved in it, but they also create fun headcanons to explore said game's lore/setting/characters.

So in way, participating in fandom and even writing fanfiction, or saying stupid things like "hc : Nabateans attach a great importance to golden trinkets" is, in a way, pushing your own interpretation over the game's.

But at one point, it depends on what you want to argue about.

Argue about headcanon? Uh... it's like arguing about what topping you prefer on your ice cream. It's your ice cream, your tastes, so you can prefer chocolate cookies or peanuts and it's, you know, not open to discussion as in "talking with you made me realise peanuts are was tastier than chocolate chip cookies".

I like to talk and discuss and see other people's headcanons because it's fun and when some of ours match we can nerd about pointless things like warm rocks or nabatean laying eggs, but you won't see me being an ass and tell them "uh your headcanon sucks, you should put blue cheese on your ice cream".

Now, arguing about canon?

FE16 (and Fe Fodlan in general) is a game where the devs forgot to hire a continuity game and thought letting the world "vague" would make it look "deeper and richer" than it is. 10k years of lore, after all. And we have at least 2 unreliable narrators, that are Lords so who are protagonists and usually should be believed... expect that the game shows us they're full of nonsense regarding various topics.

But, unlike headcanon, canon isn't subjective, it's the same game (well... depending on the audio, it's not) everyone played, some people were kind enough to create a website where every line (+ dub!) is available, so it's not a question of interpretation as much as going to read and check the datamine website and the hundreds of YT videos, were people recorded their PT.

Was Burnie surrounded by flames, effectively preventing her escape from her pyre, or not?

Does Cyril mention to Mercedes how he only ate every couple of days before coming to the monastery (so under House Goneril's good care and in the Almyran army) or not?

Those things can be easily checked, and there's no interpretation.

If you don't like canon, you can churn out headcanon and have fun developing them, maybe finding people who like them and expend them themselves!

But for various reasons (is it because fanfiction has a bad rep since the 2000s for being something, idk, teenage girls write? or because it's not seen as very serious (tm) as a redshit post?) some people in the Fodlan fandom don't really want to confess they don't like the canon, and prefer the headcanon/fanfiction version of the game portrayed through a certain fic that, in turn, influenced how canon is perceived by some devoted fans.

(and let's not forget the lolcalisation that, too, didn't like the base game and edited it for ~ reasons ~)

And imo, Death of the author, in those fandom circles, is a roundabout way to say "the canon is not conclusive so i interpret the situation as this, but it's totes not my headcanon nor a fanfiction bcs i'm no gross fangirl, it's still canon, but my interpretation of the canon"

Tldr : Arguing about headcanon is as pointless and fruitless as starting a shipwar, and in the 2020s apparently it's too shameful to confess liking/writing fanfictions, so instead you like and write "your own interpretations of canon or how it should be" instead, using various theories like "Death of the Author" to validate your creative process, bcs fanfics gross'n'bad'n'only for lonely teenager girls, i guess.

[aperrywilliams]

Lost and Gain... and Lost Again? (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

Author Masterlist

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Reader and Spencer’s bond strengthens after the team receives devastating news. But what happens when that bond becomes an agreement that ends up confusing them more?

Word Count: 10k (Ouch!)

Warnings: MINORS DNI. NSFW. 18+ ONLY. Reference to a character’s death; crying, feelings of regret; mention of nightmares and ideas about drug use (doesn’t happen); mention of wounds and blood (superficial); strong language; penetrative and unprotected sex; oral sex (f and m receiving); fingering; rough sex with chocking; crying after sex; oral and penetrative sex in a public place; voyeurism (from a third person); size kink; gagging. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I wrote this one for Smurph’s Birthday Challenge. Happy birthday, my friend!!!! (a bit late, I’m sorry). If you haven’t read a @smurphyse fic yet, I recommend you do! You’ll find a great writer (Room 405 has the top 1 of my heart). On top of that, one of the best human beings I have had the honor to know. For the challenge, I used the prompt “Get on your knees and show me.” (Category 2); and Choking, Deepthroating, Public sex; Voyeurism; Size Kink (Category 3). Thanks for reading, and keep sending me requests!

Do you want to be added to the taglist? Go HERE

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

Reader’s POV.

Emily Prentiss is an extraordinary woman. Smart, determined, brave, tough, compassionate, and the best friend you could ask for. But when she faked her death and disappeared for seven months, it started a series of events that hit my life forever.

‘Devastation’ falls short of describing our emotions after getting the news. The team crumbled. Nobody could believe what had happened. Not to our Emily.

I remember being in my apartment crying for days. I barely made it to Emily’s funeral. I was a complete mess.

Hotch granted us time to process, but we didn’t think it would be enough to overcome our loss.

I knew the other team members were grieving Emily’s death too, but I felt it harder. Maybe it was because I had known Emily for eight years back then. We worked together before she joined the BAU.

Two years after she settled there, a suggestion from her to Hotch gave me the chance to join the team. Once me there, we got inseparable.

So you can guess how hard it was to assimilate that you would never see your friend again.

Morgan and Spencer weren’t okay either. Derek leaned on Garcia for support, showing his anger whenever he could. Spencer leaned on JJ in a more reserved way, although he thought JJ couldn’t fully comprehend his pain.

He told me about this feeling when he knocked on my door one night.

“Spencer?” I looked at him, puzzled. It was near midnight.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I came here like this all of a sudden. I - I thought that -” he trailed off. His hands were shaking, eyes glassed, dark circles under them, and he looked pale. I knew that face. I saw this in myself plenty of times in the last weeks. Nightmares.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. Come in.” I pulled him inside the apartment and led him to sit on my couch.

That night we talked until the sun rose. We talked about everything and nothing. He told me about the nightmares, the headaches, and the cravings. I knew about what happened after Hankel. But never did someone tell me the details, and I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business.

We never were that close before, but I guess circumstances did the job. Grieving the loss of our friend, we realized that we were struggling in a similar way. So why not lean on each other?

That way, nights like that kept happening in the following weeks. Some days at my place, others in his.

Sometimes we just sat to talk. Other times we watched a movie to turn off our thoughts. We could even sit on the couch without talking and staring at the ceiling in comfortable silence.

Gradually the pain gave us a truce, and the company became nice by itself.

I never thought of Spencer as a close friend, at least not in a sense Emily was, but the time we spent together gave us a chance to get to know each other better. I was pleasantly surprised that we had more in common than I had imagined.

-

We hung out a lot, and we liked it. But there was something more there that I couldn’t explain. Yeah, we could talk, cry, and laugh, but why did it feel like something was missing?

I couldn’t pinpoint what it was until one particular night.

After a messy unsub takedown, Spencer got some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t let the paramedics check on him.

On the flight home, I saw Spencer hiss every time he brushed some spot on his left side.

Spencer-fucking-stubborn-Reid.

When we landed in Virginia, I persuaded him to have dinner and a movie at my place. Secretly I was worried that he would go home without anyone checking on his injuries.

As we put a foot in my apartment, I required him to sit on my couch while I went to get my first aid kit.

“Okay, now let me see those cuts,” I said, inspecting his face as my hand clutched a gauze dipped in alcohol.

“You are being dramatic,” he pointed.

“Oh yeah? Well, prove me wrong then,” I challenged, cleaning one of the cuts on his forehead with the gauze. Spencer hissed at the contact.

“Who’s the dramatic here,” I teased.

Spencer rolled his eyes, knowing I could be as stubborn as he.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Once I finished wiping his face, I took another piece of gauze.

“Okay, now let me see your left side.”

“What? Why?”

“I saw how you sizzled whenever you rubbed your left side, Reid. Don’t argue with me.” I instructed. I could see his cheeks turning pink.

With hesitation, Spencer unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it from his shoulders.

My eyes immediately focused on the scratches on his torso and the dark bruise on his ribs.

“Holy shit Reid. That must hurt,” I said, using the gauze to give attention to his skin.

Then is when I felt it.

A change in the air. It became thick and difficult to ignore. I met Spencer’s eyes, and there was an intensity in them I didn’t see before.

Honestly, I never noticed how beautiful Spencer’s eyes were and how desirable he looked, licking his lips as he watched me methodically sweep the dried blood off his wounds.

Feeling the nearness between us ignited in me a spark I didn’t know was there. When did Spencer’s lips start to look so kissable?

I tried to put that thought in the back of my brain, but touching his skin - even indirectly through a gauze - made it almost impossible.

Chastising myself, I did my best to concentrate on whatever could move me away from my salacious thoughts about my coworker and friend.

‘A Friend. A Friend. A Friend.’ I repeatedly told myself as I finished bandaging the cuts I had just cleaned up.

Little did it help that he was looking at me with those doe eyes.

I wanted to kiss him so bad.

I wanted to fuck him so bad.

I could feel the warmth in a specific spot on my body. My cheeks tinted in dark crimson when I realized what was happening to me.

“Are you o-?” Spencer tried to ask, but before he could finish the question, I silenced him with my lips on his.

I felt Spencer frozen in his spot as I kissed him. Surely he wasn’t expecting that. Neither do I, but I couldn’t help it.

When the senses returned to me, I pulled away.

Shit, I had fucked it up.

Stuttering, I tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry. This was so inappropriate. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I mumbled, scooting back on the couch and entirely baffled.

Spencer seemed surprised. But something in his eyes told me that he wasn’t upset, quite the opposite. The confirmation came from the very Spencer. Not saying a word, he cupped my cheeks and leaned to kiss me this time.

It didn’t take me long until I let loose and kissed him back.

Quickly our lips started to move frenziedly—all tongues and teeth. The kiss turned heated fast, and our hands began to wander. Just running my fingertips on his bare chest sent shivers down my spine.

Without a second thought, clothes flew from our bodies to land somewhere on my living room floor. I was on Spencer’s lap only minutes later, grinding over his massive erection.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His hands gripped my hips as he bucked up his to increase the friction between us.

Desperately I grabbed his dick to pump it a few times before aligning it to my entrance.

I looked at him, and his full-dilated pupils told me everything I needed to know. He wanted this as much as I did.

Feeling him stretching me was like heaven.

He was big, and his girth perfect enough to have me trembling around him in no time.

That night we fucked on my couch once and two more times in my bed.

I didn’t know if my lack of sexual activity at that time had to do with it, but those were the best orgasms I had had in a long time.

Panting and looking at the ceiling, we agreed not to do it again. It would be weird, and we didn’t want to feel that way at work.

-

But it happened again. And again. And again.

Some people say that when you get the ‘taste,’ there is no return. If I stick to that, Spencer Reid turned out to be my favorite drug those days.

And I had the feeling I had become the same thing to him.

We settled a new agreement: the typical friends with benefits. How cliche is that? It didn’t really matter to me at the time; we needed the release, the sex, and neither he nor I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship. Let alone when it all started as animalistic sex.

Fantastic, marvelous, extraordinary, necessary animalistic sex.

Thanks to Spencer Reid, I got laid considerably more times in three months than in the past years.

Not that I would complain about it, quite the opposite.

The rules - because, of course, we settled rules - were not to tell anyone, keep it as only sex, not stay the night, and not jeopardize our friendship. If any of us suspected this arrangement could put our friendship in danger, we would call it to quit with no resentment.

It seemed pretty easy.

Having clear rules, we used every chance we got to fuck. His place, my place, sneaking to our hotel rooms during cases. Even at work, we had our favorite abandoned office in the basement.

I found out a lot of things during these months. For example, I didn’t know I could be that horny all the time. Okay, thinking better of it, scratch that.

I did know I could be that horny, but kind of I forgot how it felt until then.

What I truthfully didn’t know was that Spencer could be that horny and touch-starved all the time.

You would say the boy genius that doesn’t shake hands avoids any kind of touch. Wrong. He loves it. Spencer adores cuddling after sex. He likes me playing with his hair and drawing soft patterns on his skin with my fingertips.

Could you believe that Spencer Reid is a boob man? I do now. Sometimes, he lays his head on my chest and hums comfortably between my breasts. I’m pretty sure he would do it if he could always use my boobs as pillows.

But all those displays of affection - or lust, if you want to call it - were only reserved for the bedroom. As soon as we left bed, we returned to our traditional roles as friends and coworkers.

It was working for us. And nobody had to know.

-

After Emily ‘died.’ Hotch thought we could be fine without another agent, but Strauss had another opinion. That’s why Alice Brown joined the BAU. Strauss herself brought her directly to the team.

As you can guess, we weren’t very enthusiastic about the decision, but the poor girl hadn’t any fault. Young and inexperienced, Alice came to a team with a fractured heart.

The first one who showed friendly with Alice was JJ, who took her under her wing.

Brown did her best to fit into the team. Not much time passed until Morgan and Penelope warmed up with her. Rossi acted like her loving father and Hotch like an understanding boss.

Spencer, the gentleman he is, was way far nice to her. He usually talked to her about books and facts about our cases and the BAU history.

That’s how Alice seemed welcomed after a couple of weeks.

But with me, things didn’t come easy. I knew the poor girl wasn’t trying to replace Emily. I truly understood that, but for me, something about her didn’t fit. I never was deliberately harsh or not polite to her, but we didn’t get that groove she had with the rest of the team.

I thought it was a matter of time.

But maybe I was wrong.

With Hotch away for months, JJ moving to another division, and Rossi barely present, the job weight laid on the remained team members: Morgan, Garcia, Reid, Brown, and I.

Only four agents in the field made things a little bit rough. Rough enough for me to be irritable very often. The bad thing was that my sour mood tended to land on Alice most of the time.

“Why do you go so hard on her?” Morgan chastised me once Alice ran from the conference room crying after I said something a bit sharp.

“I don’t go hard on her. It’s just she should be in tune by now,” I explained.

“Pretty girl, you already forgot when you joined the team?”

“No, Morgan. Don’t play the sentimental card with me. It’s not going to work,” I warned him. Morgan only shook his head.

“I’m just saying you should be more understanding. That’s all.”

Yeah. Maybe Derek was right.

That’s why I gathered the courage to talk to her and apologize. But when I reached Hotch’s office, where I knew she was, I saw Spencer hugging Alice.

The girl was fully crying with her head buried in Spencer’s chest.

I halted in my tracks. Spencer noticed my presence and gave me a disapproving look.

What? Now everyone blames me?

Huffing, I left the room without saying a word.

I didn’t know what was more upsetting: that people accused me of being a bitch with Alice or that she played the victim role. Because that’s what she was doing. She was in Spencer’s arms, looking for comfort, and the bastard provided it with no question.

How does SHE dare? How does HE dare?

That last thought made my heart stop for a second.

Why was I so apprehensive? Was it because of her nearest to Spencer? No. It couldn’t be.

Spencer was only my friend and my fuck-buddy.

And maybe that was the problem. I didn’t want Alice to steal my friend AND my benefits.

“It’s not - fuck!- it’s not I dislike her,” I managed to say to the man with his head between my legs.

“Yu-shul-be-nice-tho,” Spencer mumbled from his spot as he lapped my clit with his glorious tongue and used his slender fingers to pump them in and out of my pussy.

“I am - Oh my God! - I’m nice to her, really - Spencer! Please! Right there!” I whined.

“No. Yu-not,” Spencer rebutted, muffling his words in my core. Feeling my heavy breathing, he sped his fingers’ movement and sucked on my clit hard. Fuck, I was so close.

“Okay! I’m not, but- would you - fuck! - can we stop talking about our coworker? I’m trying to have an orgasm here!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

-

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her...”

Hotch’s words reverberated in my head as we were in the conference room discussing what to do about Declan’s kidnapping.

‘Stabilize her’? I was still trying to make sense of those words when I saw a ghost at the entrance.

Emily-fucking-Prentiss was alive.

It wasn’t my imagination. I pinched myself to be sure. I locked eyes with Spencer and Morgan, looking for confirmation.

Of the three of us, I was the nearest to faint.

The lack of oxygen made me feel dizzy.

Why didn’t JJ seem surprised? Why Rossi hadn’t the same shocked expression we had?

A lot of those questions were kept on standby as we focused on getting back Declan.

Emily was cautious and didn’t approach anyone just yet.

I worked on autopilot most of the time. I barely spoke a thing in the twenty-four hours the case was open.

After finishing Doyle’s ordeal that night, we returned to the BAU. Emily tried to talk to me, but I ditched her attempt by sneaking into the kitchenette.

I was pouring coffee on my mug for the umpteenth time that day and so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Spencer standing on the threshold.

He cleared his throat but kept silent as he decided what to say.

I spared him the trouble.

“You don’t need to say anything, you know. There are no words to make sense of this.”

Spencer sighed.

“Eventually, we should,” he pointed.

I met his eyes so that he could see the bitterness in my gaze.

“Should we? I was prepared to miss her forever,” I confessed, sensing tears pricking my eyes.

“I guess I was prepared to do that too.”

Spencer didn’t look better than me. His eyes were as glassy as mine. His lips were tightly pressed like he was holding back.

Truth be told, both were holding back emotions.

That’s why when I asked him to help me to unravel, he was quickly in the same boat as me.

That night we fucked harder than we had been doing in the past five months.

We were angry; we felt betrayed, and this was the way we thought could help us to navigate those emotions.

I needed to lose control. I needed to stop thinking, so I gave him the reign of my body and, maybe, something else.

Spencer understood what I was looking for and didn’t waste time. He gave me what I craved.

Dark hickies and bite marks on my skin would prove that the next morning.

“Please, harder!” I begged, clasping his wrist as he put more pressure on my throat. Spencer’s kept his rough thrusts, grunting each time his hips snapped to mine.

“You want me to let you dumb, uh? So fucking needy,” he panted, his pace not faltering.

“Yes! Make me dumb! Use me!” I cried out, feeling the air leaving my lungs. The dizziness was welcoming as I allowed the tears to run free—a mix between the pleasure and the past hours’ pent-up emotions.

I didn’t need any other stimulation to trip over the edge for the third time that night. After a wild scream, I let myself go, clenching my walls and sending Spencer to his own end.

Collapsing on top of me, Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck as we tried to catch our breath.

But my body started to shake, and sobs left my lips. That alerted Spencer, who immediately pulled out and leaned back to inspect my face.

His concerned hazel eyes met mine. I could see the panic in him.

“Did I hurt you? Was it too rough? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” he trailed off. I shook my head, resting my palm on his cheek.

“No. No, Spencer. You did nothing wrong. It was amazing, actually. It’s me. It’s just- I don’t know what-” I couldn’t end the sentence because of the lump in my throat.

“Hey,” he mumbled, engulfing me in a tight embrace. It didn’t matter we both were naked and spent; I needed his solace, and he didn’t hesitate to supply it.

Kissing the top of my head and tracing delicate patterns on my back, he took his time to whisper sweet nothings until I calmed down.

It’s weird, but this was the first time I showed myself so vulnerable to him, and it scared the shit out of me.

We leaned on each other when Emily died, but this was different.

Our relationship was different now; even if I didn’t want to admit it, Spencer became an essential part of my life. As a friend. As a confidant. As the man who has seen beyond my defenses and knows me in the most intimate way.

When I regained some composure, Spencer put his boxers on and helped me to reach the bathroom. Then he went to the kitchen to grab me a glass of water and a snack. Once I was dressed in my pajamas and under the covers, he looked at me to ensure I was okay.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, sipping the water.

“You are welcome. Uh- well, I think I should go now? You need to sleep,” he said, hunching to grab his clothes scattered on the floor.

I couldn’t conceal my disappointment, although it was a reasonable thing to do. Our agreement worked like that: Don’t stay the night.

But I wasn’t ready for him to leave.

Maybe I didn’t want him to go ever again.

That last admission wasn’t clear to me at that moment, though.

“Spencer? Would you stay tonight, please?” I asked, my voice small as if I was begging for something forbidden. In some way, it was.

He halted his doing to look at me. I cleared my throat.

“I know it’s not what we agreed on, but I don’t feel I could stay alone now. I’m sorry if-” I stuttered.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain to me. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay,” Spencer offered.

“Thank you.”

Spencer joined me on the bed, wrapping us with the sheets and comforter and switching the lights off.

I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and arm over his naked torso.

Waking up the following day, the first thing I noticed was the grip of a strong arm around my waist and a soft fan of breath on my shoulder. A warm sensation filled my senses.

Not wanting to wake him up, I slowly turned in bed to find Spencer asleep. He stirred a little but did not wake up. Soft snores escaped his lips. He looked so beautiful sleeping. By far the most attractive man I have ever met.

My stomach clenched as I analyzed the potential consequences of my thoughts.

What was this feeling? Of course, there was infinite gratitude for the best friend I could have found. But a friend who also became your sexual partner? Someone with whom you have been able to experiment, and is willing to please you, just as you would do anything for him to please him?

This was moving to another level.

I was falling in love with Spencer Reid.

Neither Spencer nor I mentioned the morning we woke up together in the days that followed. I assume it was just a one-time thing, and I thought Spencer considered it the same way.

As the cases kept coming, we had no chance to chat about that. So we let it slide.

But I couldn’t get out of my mind the idea there was something more. Was it just me imagining things?

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

Spencer’s POV.

It was the perfect arrangement until it wasn’t.

I must have known that it could happen. I’m not that experienced in that field.

I only kissed a few people in my life.

I had sex just a few times before her.

And non just a few months passed until I broke the rules. At least one of them: no mixed feelings.

We were friends, and we fucked.

That was all.

In theory.

The rule was clear: if we saw this could put in danger our friendship, sex had to end.

But this was more than that for me. And it had been that way for months, yet I didn’t dare to call it to quit.

Having her by my side is the best thing that happened to me. I didn’t know I could fall so deep for someone, but she made it easy.

After the long talks and hanging out a lot, it wasn’t difficult to notice our connection.

But that was a friendship means. Or that is what I thought until we had sex.

God, it was amazing. I didn’t feel like that with anyone before.

What did she do to me?

I thought I had it under control, but I lost the last ounce of self-defense the night he asked me to stay.

How couldn’t I? She was vulnerable and needed someone. A friend. Me.

Watching her in my arms sent me into a spiral of overthinking. I wanted this for the rest of my life, but I would never have the nerve to confess that to her. That would mean I’ll lose her forever.

She didn’t feel the same way I did. Why should I bother then?

Sure, we were attracted, but keeping it physical was the agreement. No other feelings should have been involved.

I screw it up. What do I do now?

It became worse when she started to act a bit cold around me. I mean, not the same friend affection we used to have daily.

God, I was losing her as a friend too, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Two options came to my mind: play it cool or finish the friend with benefits bullshit. I needed to decide something, but I delayed it. Like if things could resolve themselves magically.

She knew something was happening yet didn’t say anything. Instead, she tried to keep it casual.

“What are you doing?” I complained when one afternoon, she dragged me to an abandoned office.

“Hey, relax. I only want a moment alone with you, okay?”

“Somebody could see us!” I scolded. Honestly, it wasn’t an issue in the past five or six months, so why would it be now?

“Don’t be paranoid, Spencer. We are in our usual abandoned office. Nobody walks here. You know that” she reassured me, kissing my jaw, but I was still tense, with my hands to the sides. Hands that, in another time, would be pulling up her skirt to squeeze her delicious ass.

She wrapped her arms around my neck to kiss my lips hungrily. I couldn’t help but gasp, kissing her back and gripping her hips. I was almost lost in the feeling and about to give in until my senses returned.

I rapidly used the grip on her hips to pull her away.

“I think we should come back.”

She frowned and parted entirely from me. I could see the anger rushing in her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She spat.

Well, I couldn’t tell her truly what was wrong with me, so I tried to play ignorant.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re avoiding me.”

Her voice sounded annoyed and something else that I couldn’t decipher.

“I’m not.”

A lie, of course. Excellent, Spencer Reid.

“Yes, you are. We haven’t fuck in two weeks. You tell me what our statistics are. A week at most?”

I knew that: six days and twenty-one hours. I opted for a nonspecific answer, though.

“Sort of. I guess.”

“Why then? Don’t tell me it’s because of work or anything like that. You know we managed before.”

She was trapping me. Every remark she made was pushing me to tell her the truth. I wasn’t ready for her to know, though.

Maybe I will never be. I needed to escape from there.

“We should end this,” I blurted out.

She frowned again. “End what?”

“This arrangement. It’s not working.”

I saw her demeanor change. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but my first guess? Hurt. That broke my heart.

“Why? You... You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” She asked. Her voice was small. Why could she think I didn’t want to be her friend anymore? Not in a million years. I would like to be more than that, but I knew it was impossible.

“No! No that! I’m talking about the benefits thing. I - I think we should end that,” I hastened to explain. I prayed she could agree with me without any question. Too much to ask?

She kept silent for a couple of seconds, contemplating her answer. I knew this would happen. I knew that doing this would mess up everything between us. And the people assume I’m a genius. Waste of genius I am.

“So it’s true you found someone else. You want to fuck someone else.”

‘No! I want only to fuck you!’ I wanted to scream, but instead, I repeated myself: ‘Calm down, Spencer. Calm down. Stay focused’.

“I’m trying to keep our friendship, that’s all.”

“So you can fuck someone else. I get it,” she insisted. Why was that so important? I mean, she could have any man in the world to feed that need. I’m not that special.

“It’s not - I mean, not that I - “ I tried to explain, but she cut me off, putting a hand over my shoulder.

“Spencer, it’s okay. I know. She is pretty and a smart girl. Not to mention she’s head over heels for you.”

Now I was confused. Who the hell was she talking about?

“What? You - she, who?”

“Alice. You are talking about Alice. I know.”

Alice? Our colleague Alice? Does she think I want to fuck Alice Brown?

“I’m not thinking-” I stuttered.

She sighed.

“Spencer. I’m so sorry for my outburst. We knew this would happen eventually. One of us would find someone and want to be in a relationship. You have the right to get that,” she said, shedding some tears. I was so confused that I couldn’t determine the real reason for her tears. Was it because she was happy for me? Or because she didn’t feel she deserved the same? Damn, why am I so incompetent at interpreting this kind of thing? Either way, she was giving me a friendly outing. Wasn’t that my initial purpose?

“Thanks,” I mumbled. (Y/N) gave me a tiny smile and kissed my cheek.

“She is lucky, you know? But if she hurt you, I’m going to kill her,” she sentenced before leaving the office.

I would like to say that after that conversation, I was more relieved. I would like to say that it was the best decision I have made in a long time. But I would be lying.

Yeah, we’re still friends, but things were weird between us, though. She avoided me more often, and our conversations were more superfluous than before.

It didn’t help that Alice was always around because when she saw Alice, she definitely stopped talking to me or left the room.

That’s where the jokes started too. Morgan jumped at every chance he got to suggest - in a not subtle manner - how interested Alice was in me. I didn’t think so, but JJ even ventured out once and asked me when I would do something about it.

Little did she know that Alice was not the woman my heart and desires gravitated around.

God, I missed (Y/N) in my arms. But I needed to be strong. Hopes weren’t an option in this case.

And it seems that peace of mind wasn’t an option either. When (Y/N) started flirting with other guys, I felt the blood boiling inside me.

I shouldn’t have felt jealous; I didn’t have any right, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing she could have some of those guys in her bed, the bed I used to be in for a solid six months, made me sick of my stomach.

I didn’t know that part of me—the possessive one. That part that yearned for her and was desperate.

-

Another local case closed, and Prentiss convinced us to go for drinks.

After Emily’s return, it was rough to settle for the idea of having her back, but she managed to coax out of us any resentment we could have, even with (Y/N) and me. We didn’t take pretty well Emily’s fake death. Not after grieving her for months. Of course, rationally, we understood her reasons, but it hurt. It hurt a lot.

But they say time helps, and they are right. At the end of the day, Emily was alive, and slowly we got used to that.

Garcia picked the club this time.

Only Hotch and Rossi were excused for not going.

Instantly Morgan pulled Garcia and JJ to the dance floor, leaving Emily, Alice, (Y/N), and me at the table, sipping our alcoholic drink of preference.

Sitting by my side, Alice laced her arm with mine, leaning her head over my shoulder.

“I’m so exhausted, Spence. This case was so draining!” Alice sighed. I returned a hum in response, more focused on how she clutched my arm. When I shifted my gaze to (Y/N), she quickly averted her eyes from me. In a matter of seconds, she stood and strolled to the dance floor, joining Morgan, Garcia, and JJ.

Emily narrowed her eyes as she realized something.

“Alice?” Prentiss asked. The girl looked at her with full attention. “Can I ask you something from the bar? I would go to bring it myself, but I don’t want to be abducted by Morgan.”

Convinced enough, Alice complied and headed to the bar.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you and (Y/N)? Or should I say between you and Alice?” Far from Alice’s eardrops, Emily asked immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Spencer, I’m not stupid. (Y/N)’s behavior with Alice around? Your eyes on her?”

Profilers. Not that I had been subtle about it anyway. I cleared my throat, Emily’s gaze on me the entire time.

“I - we - uh. We had sex.”

“With (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” I admitted. Prentiss didn’t look surprised. Of course, she wasn’t.

“And what’s the problem?”

I spit in thirty seconds what had happened between us in the past six months.

“That kind of agreement never works. But sure, you already know that.”

“Believe me. I know that” I sighed.

“Tell her.”

“What?! No! She’s my friend on top of everything. She doesn’t feel like I do. I can’t tell her.” I assured Emily, who didn’t seem too convinced.

“How do you know? I bet she’s jealous of Alice.”

“I don’t think so,” I mumbled, pointing to the dance floor. (Y/N) was grinding against a guy who seemed too enthusiastic about it.

“That means nothing,” Prentiss scoffed.

But for me, it did. (Y/N) was enjoying the night and that guy’s company. And I was stuck in the same shit I wanted not to. I needed to move on from her. Try, at least.

Alice came back with some drinks. Emily took hers and stood to talk to someone who greeted her from another table.

I sipped my beer as Alice smiled and scooted to my side.

“Well, it seems we are alone now,” she pointed.

“Technically, no. The team is scattered between the dance floor and the -” I tried to explain, but Alice’s giggle cut me off.

“You know what I mean, Spencer. In fact, you know what I have been trying to do in the past months,” she asserted, looking at me with a smirk on her face.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Flirt with you. I want you, Spencer. And I know you want me too,” Alice said, brushing some hair I had over my face. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything, seeing how she moved closer and closer. I darted my gaze from her eyes to her lips, which was her cue to close the remaining gap between us, pressing her lips to mine. It was a foreign feeling, but I told myself, ‘why not?’ so I kissed her back.

I cupped her cheeks and cocked my head to deepen the kiss. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pressed her body against mine. I swept my tongue over her lips, and she complied and opened her mouth. Our tongues were fighting for dominance.

But it was wrong. I was kissing Alice, and I was thinking in (Y/N). How different she kissed me, how I missed her touch. The way she plays with my hair on the nape of my neck. The sounds she makes when I touch her.

I ended the kiss because of the guilt for what I was doing and the lack of oxygen. We both were panting, but Alice was the one who had a grin plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I apologized. Alice looked at me with a frown.

“Why do you say that? That kiss was amazing.”

“Alice. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I just can’t. You are such a beautiful and intelligent woman; any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I want you to have me, Spencer. Why not? You are single; I am too. And I know we’re attracted to each other,” she reasoned.

“But I love someone else,” I blurted out. Alice sat straight in the booth, scoffing.

“It’s (Y/N), right?”

I nodded. I really didn’t care right then if the whole DC finds out.

“Yeah. It’s (Y/N).”

“Come on, Spencer. She is not the one for you. I know you have been friends for a while, but you? with her? In a romantic relationship? Not a chance.”

That judgment took me aback. Why was it so difficult to believe?

“Why do you say that?”

“You need a person who cares about you, for real. Not someone that is constantly bossing everyone around and ditching your feelings. I saw how she was treating you lately. The cold shoulder and everything. She doesn’t deserve you, Spencer.”

“(Y/N) is not like that. You’re mistaken,” I shook my head. Alice didn’t understand. It was all my fault.

“Well. If I am, then please tell me what you see right now. That’s the woman you love?” Alice mocked, pointing to a corner where (Y/N) was making out with the same guy from the dance floor.

They both were getting handsy, and my blood started to boil again.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I barely heard what Alice said when I stood up and marched where (Y/N) was.

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

Reader’s POV.

Kissing that bitch. Spencer was kissing that bitch. But why was I surprised? He was the one who told me that our agreement should end because he wanted to fuck Alice.

It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. Not when I had another human being roaming my body with his hands and whispering praises into my ear.

Fuck you, Spencer Reid.

I took my fuck-mate prospect’s hand and made him follow me to a more private corner. I needed to forget what I saw, and if that meant getting lost with another guy, so be it.

We were heavily making out when I heard someone clearing his throat. I recognized that sound immediately.

“I need to talk to you,” Spencer sternly said, tapping my shoulder.

I parted from the kiss, and my buddy didn’t seem happy about the interruption. I wasn’t either.

“Hey dude, we’re busy here,” Randall - I’m sure that was his name - told him.

“Yeah, get lost, Reid,” I snarled. It was dark, but I still could see the redness on Spencer’s face.

I was about to resume my kissing session with Ryan when Spencer cleared his throat again, speaking louder this time.

“I will not go. We need to talk (Y/N). Now.”

Did I hear correctly? Was Spencer Reid demanding something from me?

Raymond was pissed off right now and turned to face Spencer with anger in his eyes. I should have felt bad for Spencer, but he deserved it.

“You heard the lady. Get lost!” Reggie grunted, but Spencer didn’t move from his spot, preparing himself for the worst.

When I saw Rendell fisting his hand to land a punch on Spencer’s face, I felt like I should do something.

“Hey, hey, Richie. Calm down. I had fun with you, but my friend needs me now. I’m so sorry,” I said, quickly grabbing Spencer’s wrist and dragging him to the back exit.

“Call me! And it’s Robbie. My name is Robbie.”

The poor guy spoke out before I disappeared.

Once outside, I looked at Spencer deadly.

“Spencer, what the fuck was that?!” I yelled.

“That guy only wanted to take advantage of you,” he spat back.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked him, my hands on my hips and my best-annoyed look.

“He was touching you!” Spencer cringed as if he were talking about the world’s more disgusting thing.

“Oh! Is that a problem?” I mocked. Spencer looked frustrated with my sarcasm.

“Yeah, it is! You were going home with a stranger!”

“Good observation, genius. Maybe it is what I wanted to do.”

“To fuck that guy?” Spencer asked in disbelief.

“Yes! Since I don’t have my fuck-buddy anymore. Does it make sense to you?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. I huffed.

“You did end our agreement, not me!” I reminded him.

“So that is what you miss. Your fuck-buddy,” Spencer pointed, his voice pained as if I said something hurtful.

“Yes. I mean - yes! Of course, I miss you,” I added, but Spencer shook his head.

“No, you miss the sex. Not me,” Spencer corrected.

“What the hell are you trying to say? Just say it, Spencer!”

An awkward silence fell between us. Spencer had his hands fisted as if he was holding something back. As if I had struck a chord in him.

“It can’t be that I was the only one who felt it! All this time was just sex for you?” He asked, and I saw the hurt in his eyes.

“No! That’s why we are friends too. You are not a stranger to me, Spencer. You could never be a stranger to me.” I tried to explain.

“And what if it was more than that? What if I broke the main rule of this whole thing?”

This time I was speechless. How could it be?

“You did not. You have feelings for Alice. That’s why you ended it.”

“No! And no! I don’t have feelings for Alice, and I didn’t end it because of her.”

“Oh please, you were devouring her in that booth minutes ago!” I scoffed.

“Yeah. I - I did kiss Alice, but because I wanted to forget how you were rubbing your body with another guy!” He argued.

“What? Why does that bother you so much?”

Spencer ran his hands through his hair. He was holding back something. When he locked eyes with me, I could see his struggle inside.

“I’m jealous, okay?” He yelled out, and I stepped back from the impetus in how he said it. “And not only because another guy was touching you. I’m jealous because I realize you can go on with your life without me. And not a day goes by that I don’t regret telling you we should have ended our arrangement without explaining the real reason.” Spencer said, averting his gaze from mine.

“And what is that real reason?” I asked in a whisper. I was afraid about what he would say.

Spencer returned his gaze to me.

“That I fell in love with you.”

I was taken aback. I didn’t expect Spencer would say that. I thought that I would be the one who would say it. My surprise seemed to deflate him.

“I know. I screwed up. We said this couldn’t jeopardize our friendship. And I really tried. I swear. But it got stronger every day, and I didn’t know what to do-” he rambled until I pressed my hand on his cheek. Spencer looked at me with doe eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, I broke the rules too. And I’m not only talking about the night I asked you to stay with me. Although that night, I realized I had already loved you for a while,” I confessed, feeling my cheeks burning at the admission.

Spencer looked at me in utter surprise.

“You – you what?” I let out a nervous chuckle, like a teenager confessing to her crush.

“Yeah. I love you.”

Spencer didn’t seem to get the whole idea yet.

“But you were - I mean, that guy over there-”

“I was jealous too. And what could I do? You told me that we should end it. I thought you would fuck Alice and start a relationship with her,” I shrugged.

“God, no! In a million years. You have to believe me,” Spencer hastened to say.

“I don’t think that’s such a bad idea. I saw you excitedly kissing her a while ago,” I pointed matter-of-factly.

“You would think that even if I tell you I was thinking of you when I was doing it?”

“Liar.” I jeered, looking anywhere else but him. Spencer’s hand on my chin guided my gaze to him again.

“I’m not lying. Alice will never kiss me the way you do. She won’t give me goosebumps like you do when you touch me. Much less could she make me – you know – make me that hard, like when you kiss that special spot on my jaw,” he said, now stroking my cheek. I chuckled because I knew that sweet spot so well.

“I bet she couldn’t suck you off as I do,” I dared to say to see his reaction.

Spencer groaned, and I knew he was picturing the scene. Me on my knees, my lips around his shaft.

I was sure that my sultry voice filled him with pent-up desire. He missed me. He wanted me. He needed me the same way I missed him and wanted him.

“Kiss me,” I begged. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned and complied, with one hand on my cheek and the other on the back of my head; we crushed our lips together. I tried to ground myself, grabbing Spencer’s coat lapels, but the kiss was so fierce that I felt my knees weak. It was sloppy and full of passion.

I could feel Spencer’s erection pressing on my thigh. Maybe this was heating us faster than it should, but I didn’t care, and Spencer didn’t seem to care either.

When we broke the kiss, we were both panting. I could see Spencer’s eyes full of lust, which turned me on more than it should have. I was going to kiss him again, but he stopped me, holding me in place with his hands on my cheeks.

“Did you say she couldn’t suck me off as you do?” He asked me, and I fastly nodded. A smirk emerged on his face.

“Then get on your knees and show me,” Spencer demanded, running his fingers up and down my cheek and jaw.

Wait, what? Was he asked me to give him a blowjob in the back of a club? A public place?

It’s not that we haven’t talked about something like this before, but it was left as a fantasy that could happen in the future. Well, it seems that this moment could happen now. The idea made my panties absolutely soaked.

Without a second thought, my hands worked on Spencer’s belt.

I quickly unzipped his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. Before I got down and started my task, Spencer stopped me, took off his jacket, and hunched to put it on the ground, where I would put my knees.

Quite a gentleman, worried that my knees would not touch the dirty floor. Sure, a gentleman who was going to get a blowjob, but a gentleman nonetheless.

Once ready, he leaned against the wall as I pumped his cock with my hand. I could see the precum on the head, which I spread with my fingers.

Jeez, no matter how often I did this, the man was packed, and it was always a challenge to give him a blowjob.

A groan of satisfaction left his lips as I took him into my mouth.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered.

His hands immediately landed on my head, stroking my hair while I sucked on it, trying to take it whole. I hollowed my cheeks to take more and more of him as I bowed my head to increase his pleasure. And it worked. Spencer’s moans were all I needed to go on.

“Baby, you take it so well. You don´t know how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, coaxing a loud moan from me.

My eyes were fixed on him. Seeing him so lost in pleasure turned me on, throwing his head back, grabbing my hair to hold me in place, and pushing his hips up to fuck my mouth.

As he quickened his pace, I couldn’t help but gag when his cock hit the back of my throat.

“Come on, (Y/N). I know you can take it. This big cock is made for you,” he encouraged me. That way, it helped me relax my throat to take more of him.

I could feel him twitching, a sign that he was close. I loved knowing that I was the one who could push him to the limit, that I was the one who could give him so much pleasure. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

Spencer yanked on my hair to stop me as he was about to explode. Panting, he gazed at me adoringly as he helped me to my feet.

“I think we’ll leave this kind of ending for another time. Come here,” Spencer panted. I grinned, sweeping my lips with my tongue.

Spencer collided his lips with mine in another heatest kiss. He could taste himself in my mouth.

In the dark alley now was Spencer, who caged me against the wall. The cool bricks didn’t cool down the fire running through my body.

“Please, Spencer. I need you, baby,” I moaned on Spencer’s lips. He didn’t hesitate to act for his desires. His fingers toyed with the hem of my skirt, pulling it up enough to slip his hands under the fabric, caressing my thighs up and down but still not touching where I wanted him the most.

Feeling me squirming, he knew I was growing desperate for more.

“Are you greedy right now, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he taunted. That little did help me to stay still. His low voice and the teasing only made my arousal grow.

“You. I want you. Now. Please,” I mumbled. My eyes shut, feeling Spencer’s hands traveling upper my tights.

He took pity on me and reached my covered center with one hand. He started to circle my clit over my damped panties. A growl escaped my mouth.

“So wet, and I barely touched you,” he teased.

“Umm. It’s all for you. Keep touching me, please.”

I purred, feeling the pleasure of his thumb circling my bundle of nerves.

His lips sucked the skin on my neck, making me moan. My hands tugged the curls I had in my reach. Spencer grunted as his hand pulled the fabric to the side, letting his thumb work on my clit without any barrier. He added his middle finger, pushing it between my folds. A silent scream told him that it was what I wanted, quickly adding a second finger.

“Fuck! Spencer!” Still dizzy, I bucked my hips to feel his fingers deeper and deeper.

“You like that, uh?”

I couldn’t manage to let words out. But Spencer already knew the answer, speeding up his pace.

The poor light in the alley let Spencer see my face. Sure I looked like a mess, moaning and taking what he was giving to me.

“Spencer, baby. I’m so close,” I whimpered.

“I know. Do you want to cum in my fingers? Here, where can anyone see us?” He was openly teasing me, but honestly, he was just as worked up as me.

“Yes! Make me come. I want to give it to you because I’m yours—nobody else. Yours.”

That encouraged him to work faster, panting praises in my ear, circling my clit, and fingering me. That was enough to push me to the edge.

A loud moan and my walls clenching around his fingers told Spencer I was almost there.

“Let it go, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I whimpered as I came.

He helped me ride my orgasm, moving his fingers slowly and kissing my lips tenderly. Carefully, Spencer retrieved his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean. The sight made me moan, pulling Spencer by his lapel to kiss him again. Now I could taste myself in his mouth.

“Are you okay?” He asked after breaking the kiss.

“Yeah. But I need more,” I panted, still regulating my breathing. Although the poor light, I saw him smirk.

I wanted to feel him so bad. It didn’t matter that we were in a dark alley where anyone could pass and see us.

Spencer pumped his shaft a couple of times before aligning it at my entrance. He made eye contact with me to confirm if I was ready.

“Fuck me, please,” I whined.

It was the answer he needed.

“Fuck!” Spencer groaned when he slid the head of his cock between my folds, pushing inch by inch until he bottomed out.

“Oh my God. Yes!” I moaned. The feeling of him filling me up has always been so intense, no matter how many times he had done this.

“Baby, you’re so tight. I don’t know how I can fit in you,” he panted, stilling there and basking in the feeling of my warmth and wetness.

“You’re so big. I love how you stretch me. I love to feel everything of you,” I whimpered. Spencer let out a grunt trying to keep still and not move until I was ready.

“You - you can move now,” I whined, urging him to oblige.

Spencer pulled out almost entirely, only to slam into me right after.

“Shit!” I cried as Spencer set a pace. Ragged breaths erupted from both of us.

It was like being at home. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.

“You like that? Uh?” Spencer grumbled, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“Yes! You feel so - so good. I love the way - ah! - the way you fuck me,” I said.

“That’s why you were flirting with that asshole? You - you wanted me jealous?”

“Uh - yes! Yes! Yes! I wanted you so bad. I missed you so bad!”

Some tears pricked my eyes. A mix between the pleasure Spencer was giving to me and the realization that I missed him, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

People might say it’s strange that such a collected, shy, and socially awkward man could have such an animalistic side. For me, it is part of a whole. Spencer is all that and much more. People are multifaceted, and our social side often seems to be the opposite of our intimate side. Honestly, that’s not a problem for me. I love Spencer in all his different ways: the nerd, the fact-spouting young genius, the Dr. Who fan, the good friend, the one who’s by your side when you need him, the one willing to sacrifice for you, the man who is self-conscious when he receives compliments, the lover, the one who can mark your body with lovebites and who can make you see stars with his tongue or his fingers.

They are all the Spencer I love, my Spencer.

Spencer grabbed one of my legs and looped it around his waist. I held onto his biceps for stability as he speeded up his thrusts. Our moans were loud enough that it was a miracle no one had seen us yet.

Though perhaps I spoke too soon.

I opened my eyes, looked over Spencer’s shoulder, and saw someone looking at us. That made the adrenaline rush in a different direction than it was at that moment.

“Spencer. She’s - she’s watching us - she’s there. Fuck!” I managed to say between whimpers. Spencer didn’t seem bothered by my announcement, as his thrusts remained in the same delicious way.

“Who? Who’s watching us?” He asked, panting in my ear.

“Alice. Fuck! Should- should we stop?” I barely could form coherent words at this point, but I needed to warn him. We were in a public place, after all. The realization made my arousal grow somehow, so I only could close my eyes and feel Spencer’s cock stretching me most delightfully.

Almost forgetting that I told him what was happening around us, I swear I feel Spencer smirk on the crook of my neck.

“No. No. Let her watch if she wants. So she knows I’m yours. That you’re the only one - the only one I want to fuck in my entire life. Every time, everywhere. Let her see us. I - don’t - fucking - care,” Spencer emphasized each part with a deep thrust. I was a moaning mess, eyes shut and clinging to Spencer’s biceps for some balance as I lost myself in the pleasure.

The coil in my lower belly built it faster and faster.

“I love you so fucking much,” I panted, bucking up my hips to feel him deeper if that was possible at this point.

We both knew it was animalistic, lacking all rationalism. But we need it. We craved it in the most primal essence, where the words were not enough.

“I love you too. Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I’ll make you come. That’s it, my love—my good girl.”

“Repeat it, please,” I begged, arching my back.

“I love you, my good girl—only you,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Yes! I’m yours. Spencer! God! So so good,” I babbled. I didn’t know it was something coherent, but who cares anyway?

“Are you close? Are you going to cum on my cock? Let her see how I fill you up?” He asked, a twisted smirk on him. Oh, fuck, how I love this man.

I didn’t know if Alice was still watching us, but the thought of her realizing that Spencer only wanted me and I only wanted him made me delirious.

“Yes! Please! Let me cum. I’m so close, baby.”

The feelings must be shown in some way, expressed, and offered in the form of actions. This time it was the possessiveness: the fact that reminded us that the fire was there because we belonged to each other.

At the top of our climax, mouths only served to moan our names, curses, and praises.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I yelled, shutting my eyes in pleasure.

My muscles tightened around Spencer when I came, pushing him to the edge. Spencer groaned as he emptied himself in me.

“Arg! So good, so good for me,” he muffled as his head nestled in the crook of my neck.

The moment and the place made the feeling more powerful. So powerful that we got lost in the dizziness of that post-coital bliss for a minute or two.

“God, I love you,” Spencer mumbled, kissing my neck. I giggled, feeling his stubble on my skin.

“I love you too. You’re more than my fuck-buddy, Spencer. And more than my friend too. You’re the man I love. I mean it,” I reassured him, tracing my fingers between his locks. He hummed contentedly. Parting from my neck, Spencer focused his eyes on mine.

“I know I should have said something before, but I was scared,” he confessed.

“Me too. But here we are. In a dark alley, in the back of a club, after fucking the shit out of us. I guess we are okay now.” We both giggled.

“Yeah, we’re more than okay,” he said, pecking my lips and hugging me tightly.

Well, maybe Emily Prentiss faking her death did bring something good to my life, after all.

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

Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19  @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @thebloomingeagle

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

[neil-gaiman]

Dear Mr. Neil Gaiman,

I am sorry that this is not a question, but, rather, just a message of admiration.

Back in 2012 when I was just a young college freshman (16 years old), among the works that we had to read for our Literature and Humanities class was one Murder Mysteries.

My memories from when I was 16-17 1/2 years old is a bit fuzzy, but I do know that Murder Mysteries was the only story from that class that really grabbed my attention and the only one from that class that I would remember for years to come (except, perhaps, Babycakes*).

Due to my rather muddled teenage brain, I glossed over absorbing the author credit right beneath the title, but I never forgot the story itself, it just hooked me.

Fast forward to when Good Omens was adapted into a show and, of course, the concept got me fast, as well.

I've heard your name for years by then, but that was the first time I actively sought out your works (sometimes, we can live in a bubble and not come out for a long time). I devoured Good Omens, Coraline, The Graveyard Book, and Stardust in a blink of an eye. Needless to say, you became one of my favourite authors. 🌸

But, what floors me is that, I didn't know I liked your work before I was even conscious of the fact that they were yours.

A while after reading your books, I cleaned up my old school stuff and I found stuff about Murder Mysteries among them.

Oh, I tell you, the way my jaw dropped when I saw your name there 😂 It was, indeed, a lovely surprise, though 😊

I look forward to reading more of your works and I am just happy that you are here in Tumblr. This is the first fan "letter" I've written (took quite a long time for me to develop the guts to write and send it, too 😅). Even if you may not be able to see this, I'll still look forward to seeing your posts and interactions with us.

Best regards,

Vivi 🌸

*p.s. I just did a quick Google search because I got curious who wrote the other story that stood out to me and now I am embarrassed. Babycakes is also yours, good sir, and I am laughing at my years of ignorance.

That's so sweet. If it's any consolation, an awful lot of messages here on Tumblr are "I had no idea I liked you already because I didn't look at or remember author names", so you are definitely not alone.

[wren-starling]

Callsigns (Bob x Girlfriend to Fiancé reader)

Summary: Bob’s girlfriend refuses to call any of his friends by their callsigns and when they try to give her one, she refuses. That is, until Bob gives her one she can’t turn down.

Warnings: Drinking, other than that, none! Pure Bob being a soft boy for the love of his life.

Word count: 1,403

Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bob proposing. I think he’d get so nervous and he’d fumble over his words and it’d be adorable! So I wrote about it. Enjoy! (credit to gif owner)

——————————————————————

“Jake, can you get another round for me? I’ll pay you back when I get the chance.” I call out.

“Only if you call me Hangman. Everybody calls me Hangman.” Jake counters.

“Uh, wrong. Everybody calls you Bagman.” Natasha corrects from the pool table. Jake turns around and gives her the side eye.

“I gotcha, darling. What’d you want?” I hear Robert ask from beside me. He squeezes my shoulder as he stands up and unwraps my legs from his lap.

“Surprise me.” I say with a smile.

“Don’t I always?” He smirks as he pecks my lips quickly.

“I loath the day the two of you fell in love.” Jake comments as he heads over to the pool table with Natasha and Bradley.

“I think it’s sweet.” Natasha says, handing over her cue to Jake.

“Thank you, Nat.” I say as I cross my legs and relax into my chair. I turn around briefly to see Robert, Penny, and Pete having what seems to be a pretty deep conversation. Penny looks shocked and Pete looks a little sick. Robert has a goofy looking smile on his face, the smile that made me weak in the knees three years ago. I smile to myself as he walks back over with our drinks.

“Penny’s new concoction. All she said was it’s sweet and has gin in it.” Robert says, handing me the tall glass with a smile.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I take a small sip and am immediately hit with how much trouble this drink could get me in. You can’t taste the alcohol at all and the sweet aftertaste on my tongue leaves me craving more.

“So, Y/N. Why don’t you ever use our call signs? That’s how everyone refers to us here.” Jake asks as he takes a shot and sinks the five ball.

“It doesn’t feel as personal as your name.” I explain simply.

“But they’re like nicknames we got from friends, some of us for doing something stupid, others of us have personal attachments to our call signs.” Bradley explains as he snatches the cue from Jake and lines up his next shot.

“Take your sweetheart for example,” Jake starts.

“No!” Robert interrupts. Everyone starts laughing as they remember their first time meeting Robert.

“Can we give you one?” Natasha asks. “Maybe it’ll show you why we all call each other by them.”

“No, I’m good but thank you.” I decline, sipping back more of my drink.

“Come on! It’ll be fun! I’ll start,” Jake saunters over to me, a few too many whiskey shots clear in his wobbling stride. Jake stares at me a long time before giving his first suggestion. “Ghost.”

“Do I get to know the reason behind them before I decline?” I ask. I feel Robert slip his arm around my shoulders as he pulls me against his side. He presses a gentle kiss to my temple, sensing that I don’t want this and telling me to just let it happen.

“You’re ghostly pale. I’d also accept Casper as a submission.” Jake snickers at his own joke.

“Haha. Very funny. I’m sorry I don’t get gorgeously tan like the rest of you in the San Diego sun.” Robert smirks, remembering the amount of times he’s had to rub aloe on my back because I forgot to apply sunscreen.

“What about Sparky? You and that quick wit of yours could get us in trouble in the air.” Bradley quips, setting down the pool cue after winning the game against Jake.

“Not as bad but still, no. I don’t see the point. Just call me Y/N.” Robert starts picking at a tear in his jeans, a clear sign he’s nervous.

“Okay okay. Fine. Bobby old pal why don’t you try? You know her the best anyway.” Jake suggests as he calls at Natasha to wrack the balls for a game of nine ball.

“Um, I’d have to think.” Robert murmurs.

“Just look at her and say the first thing that comes to mind.” Natasha suggests.

I turn and meet Robert’s crystal clear blue eyes and forget for a moment that we’re surrounded by his friends. Robert’s eyes scan every inch of my face before landing back on my eyes. I smile at him, feeling completely content in this moment.

“Angel.” He says. My heart melts at the smile that dawns his face.

“Robert.” I say softly, hearing my voice falter slightly at the sweetness of the nickname.

“Because you saved me. And because you give off this…this light. I know that I’m safe when I’m with you. And…and you…you’re so incredibly kind, to everyone,” Robert grabs both my hands and holds them in his own. “You’re perfect. And I’m so incredibly lucky to have you in my life.” Robert pulls his hands back and reaches into his pocket. My eyes fall to the small velvet box he opens in the palm of his hand before dropping down to one knee.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, callsign ‘Angel,’ will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?” Robert’s eyes never leave mine as the tears start rolling down my cheeks. I sniffle as I get on both knees in front of him. I stare at this handsome man who is asking me to be his forever.

“Robert William Floyd, callsign ‘Bob,’ yes, yes I will marry you.” Robert breaks out in the biggest smile I have ever seen as he takes the ring and slides it onto my finger.

Robert grabs both sides of my face and kisses me passionately. The kiss is so full of love I fall for him all over again. I feel him wiping away the tears on my cheeks as he pulls back and wraps me in the warmest, tightest hug imaginable. I hear cheering from the entire bar as Robert pulls back and kisses me again.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, just for me to hear in this intimate moment of ours.

“I love you so much.” I whisper back as I wipe a tear from his cheek.

Once Robert has helped me off the floor, he picks me up and swings me around as the Hard Deck cheers loudly for us. I look over at Robert’s friends and notice they’re all standing there with sheepish grins on their faces.

”You knew!” I shout, pointing at all of them.

“Of course we knew!” Jake says, running over to give me a massive hug as he too spins me around.

“That’s why you brought up callsigns. It gave him an entrance.” I decipher the evenings events.

“You caught us.” Bradley comments as he wraps me in a warm, grounding hug. Natasha soon follows with a gentle squeeze.

“Congratulations you two.” I hear Pete say. I turn to him and laugh quietly as Robert wraps a protective arm around my waist.

“Thank you sir.” Robert says.

“You’re glowing.” Penny says to me as she hands me Robert’s phone with a video of the whole thing pulled up.

“Is that why you offered to get my drink? So you could get them to record?” I ask Robert.

“Yeah, but I’m also just a pure southern gentleman, so I had to get my lady a drink.” Robert fakes tipping a cowboy hat as he presses a kiss to my cheek. I feel myself turn bright red as Penny announces to the bar that everyone gets a free round on the house in honor of the happily engaged couple. There’s lots more cheers as Robert drags me out to the beach behind the bar.

The two of us pick a spot in the sand and sit down as we stare at the waves crashing along the shore. I lean my head against his chest as he wraps his jacket around my shoulders and keeps his arm draped around my waist. I can feel Robert’s steady heartbeat through his button-up as I feel my chest fill with warmth. I raise my left hand in the moonlight and watch the glitter of the small diamond in the center of the ring.

“Are you happy?” Robert asks soothingly.

“Incredibly. Are you?” I question, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.

“More than you will ever know.” He responds as he leans down to give me a soft kiss underneath the moonlight, interlocking our fingers as he brushes his thumb over the ring that now rests on my finger.