#stay away from this guy and his weirdness

[thinkinonsense]

Sweet Temptations.

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan

a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3

to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.

there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.

in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.

"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.

"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.

"can we talk?"

"sure."

the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.

"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.

you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"

logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.

"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.

"of course."

there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's board, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.

"c-can you take my virginity?"

the question almost killed logan. he though he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.

"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"

"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you so, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."

never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.

"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."

"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."

even though he knew the answer, he had to ask,"ever fingered yourself?"

"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.

"want to try it?"

"s-sure but i thought we were gonna–"

"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."

a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.

"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."

without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.

"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."

"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."

suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.

"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.

"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."

as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.

"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"

you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.

"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.

his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.

"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."

logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.

"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."

logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.

"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.

since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.

"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."

in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.

"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."

before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.

"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"

he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.

"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."

[salemlunaa]

🎀 NEW IDEA: ASK CHAT GPT 🎀

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LMFAOOO IM JOKING (or am i? 😏)

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[endearng]

Brave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: You're left all alone, but now you can think of some you want to share your solitude — and food — with. WC: 5.9k (I am so sorry) Warnings: brief mentions of Penelope's parents arch, grief and depression. A/N: Hello! I struggled so much trying to find time to finish this one. Let me know what you guys think! Feedbacks are highly appreciated! neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Honestly, hearing your name leaving someone's lip usually made Spencer eager to know what was going on, if it involved you — of course, he knew that you shared it with many people, after all, there are 8 billion people existing at the same time, so he could definitely come up with statistics regarding how many of them shared names with you. Furthermore, he worked with humans, dealing constantly with their data, names included, so yours could definitely be pronounced by someone close to him.

He just didn't expect to hear a chant. Something about you and him sitting in a tree as Penelope approached him in the bullpen kitchenette.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes wide, once he heard Penelope's voice. She snickered.

She repeated the chant.

"Garcia!" His voice came out in a squeak, frantically looking around. "Shut up!" It wasn't in his nature to be so rude, but he was desperate for her to be quiet, especially because someone could hear her.

Emily, apparently coming from thin air, creeped up on them. "Spencer and who?"

"G—ah! Nobody!" He jumped from where he was standing, not expecting someone else to join them anytime soon, almost spilling his coffee.

"I caught our boygenius with a friend." Penelope announced, proud of her discovery.

"What?" Emily asked, shocked.

Once Penelope noticed that she revealed something she certainly should not have and she saw the look on his face, she slapped her hand over her mouth, wide eyes looking at Spencer in an apologizing manner. She was just so excited to finally see Spencer in that scenario that she basically ignored his wishes to keep it — whatever it was — a secret. "Thanks a lot, Garcia," he deadpanned.

"What? What friend?" Emily pressed, a smile on her lips. Not teasing, surprised, perhaps, but she didn't have any traces of mockery in her expression or tone. She looked... proud?

Penelope had started feeling bad for running her mouth too easily, but once she saw Spencer's lips turn upwards in a small grin, she gushed, "Yes!!! I went over to her house to give her daughter's gift, I am her godmother, after all... So I was knocking on her door—”

"More like banging." He interrupted.

"And from my spot, I see our boygenius not so subtly trying to disguise something. Do not look at me like that," she squinted her eyes and pointed her finger at him threateningly when he opened his mouth to speak. "You were stuttering and basically left her all by herself because you got too embarrassed."

"Oh, no, Reid..." Emily couldn't help her remark, pursing her lips.

"What? What did I do?"

Truth was, Spencer was replaying the interaction in his head the entire time after Penelope had left. He had stood there, at the sidewalk, dumbfounded and mortified by her remarks in your presence, not really knowing if he should go back to your apartment. He was definitely enjoying getting to know you, but it just felt wrong to go back and act as if nothing had happened because he had just gotten awfully weird. The man had struggled with himself, his thoughts conflicting between going back to yours or keeping to himself in his apartment. He decided on the latter, not willing to put himself through more embarrassment.

What if you didn't like him like that and you thought he was a creep now? What if you just saw him as a friend?

Worse, as a neighbor?

"You should've stayed. I know you probably got nervous, but what if she got the wrong idea once you dashed out the door when you were seen with her?" Emily inquired, but Penelope, despite not being a profiler, understood right away that she was onto something.

Her eyes glimmered.

Spencer's stomach dropped. "Oh, no..." he whispered softly. "I have to go."

And he basically fled the room.

The women exchanged playful glances.

"I knew it!" Penelope stated. She turned her head in the direction he ran to. "For a profiler, for a genius, he sometimes is so dumb."

"And just like that," Emily snapped her fingers, "IQ of 187 slashed down to 60." she snickered. Reaching for the coffee pot and pouring some of the liquid into her mug, she remarked, "There is definitely something," Emily laughed. "Do you think we should help him?"

"Don't worry," she winked at her friend, "I've got a few ideas."

Later that day, you got a call from Garcia. You were in your car, taking deep breaths and willing yourself not to cry out of frustration. The work shift had finished, officially, nearly an hour ago, but your boss held you back to discuss some projects that you were involved in. You had to call your dad to ask him kindly to pick up your daughter at school — you didn't see it coming, so you called him after about an hour of Olivia waiting by herself at school.

The unexpected meeting made you incredibly late and it turned your mood sour, because you always loved the car rides with Olivia after you picked her up, not to mention that she probably thought you had forgotten about her. Never. You had just started the engine when you heard your phone ring. You put her on speaker as you drove to your parents to pick up your daughter, who was now there. "Hi, Pen!" You greeted.

Despite the disaster, a smile crept up on your face when you remembered the last interaction you had with her. With Spencer…

"Hi, sweetcheeks!" She said back. You could hear the faint sounds of computers and keys being pressed in the background. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I guess. I had a surprise meeting so I couldn't get Olivia," you replied, eyes on the road ahead of you. "How are you, Pen?"

"Oooh, I'm sorry that happened. I know you're probably berating yourself for it, but it's okay, it wasn't your fault." She tried to lighten up.

"Yeah..." You muttered, a certain tightness in your chest you couldn't keep at bay.

"She'll understand. You are doing a fantastic job showing her the real world." Penelope comforted you. You blinked away emotional tears, grateful that the roads were calm and you weren't a reckless driver. You couldn't really speak, so she continued, "Actually, she is the main reason I called you." She revealed, making you chuckle wetly. "I really miss Olivia and I'm truly sorry I missed her birthday. I haven't been the best godmother in the world..."

"Don't worry about it." You dismissed it. "I always tell her you're a tech fairy who does magic with computers to save people. A real life hero," you chuckled. "She understands it." You whispered. Trying to keep that feeling in. Not sure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.

"I know, but, still..." She retorted softly.

Penelope frequently complimented you and Olivia. You tried your best to raise her to be a good, kind and smart person. Unbeknownst to Penelope, her comments made you remind you of right after you were left all alone with your daughter. The tech analyst didn't hear a word from you for days, but once she visited you and saw the place without a single trace of Olivia's dad, she understood it all. You kept silent, still trying to adapt to a world where you were lonely again. Despite the odds and unwillingness to open up to her, you kept talking to your daughter, even if she didn't truly understand it all. From her early years, you made sure to provide her everything she needed to speak like she does now.

Your own personal chatterbox.

A titter broke through you, "I sure hope so." You replied, rubbing your eyes at a red light. "I also hope you know I'm driving and I can't cry right now," you joked.

"Ah, right! Sorry, baby!" She exclaimed clumsily, true Penelope style. "All of this to ask if I can spend some time with her on... on Friday! Yes!" She paused and then continued.

"Friday?" You asked, uncertain. "That's usually when we go out together."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for taking it away from you, it's just that I..." second pause on her speech, "I wanna make it up for missing her birthday and I seriously hope that creepy guys give me a break so that I can spend some time with our Oli girl." She finished.

Still uncertain and the tiniest bit jealous, you relented. "Okay, Pen. May I ask you where you are taking her?"

"Well... it's a surpr—we are going to an amusement park!" She paused and then squealed and you could hear clapping.

You snickered, joking along, "It's your funeral."

"I'll die a happy woman. That's all, sweetcheeks! Thank you so much! Gotta go. Prrr."

And just like that, she hung up on you. Little did you know, she and Emily Prentiss high-fived and made ridiculous noises to celebrate the execution of their mastermind plan taking shape.

Penelope Garcia, the singular rollercoaster of emotions that you are.

Back in the bullpen, Spencer focused on his reports — not that it was a difficult task, but he felt cornered by Emily's outlook from earlier. Had he done the wrong thing? If he did, could he fix it? He wasn't the most experienced man in the world when it came to dating and women in general. He was on the brink of insanity, nearly going up to Hotch for advice. He ruled out Morgan immediately because he knew he couldn't get tips from someone who would definitely tease him, in a manner that felt lowkey demeaning.

Spencer had a lot of insecurities, and being socially awkward in his mid-twenties was one of them. Next to Morgan, he felt like a fourteen-year-old who didn't even know how to properly say hi to people. He needed some words from someone who understood him.

But who did?

Wrapping up one of his reports, his phone beeped.

Come to my lair. Treats are on the table :)

Penelope

Cautiously approaching the door, like there was a bomb inside, Spencer opened the door to Penelope's office. "Okay, so I know you were upset and maybe you still are a little because I spilled your... um... moment to Emily but I wanted to say sorry and ask you to please not be mad at me. I was just excited for you and I knew Emily would be, too." She blabbered once he closed the door behind him.

His ears turned pink and he tried playing it cool by reaching for one of the cookies that were in a bowl. "It's okay, Garcia. I was upset for a moment, but I know you didn't mean it."

She smiled. "Glad to hear that! Thank you, Reid."

He leaned his body on the desk adjacent to her, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "So, um, how do you know her?"

"We met in college. She had my back when my parents... you know."

A pause. He hated that he, sometimes, lacked the sensitivity to approach people and that, despite being brightly intelligent, often missed possible outcomes for more personal conversations.

"I'm... I'm sorry I asked. I know it can be a delicate topic." He offered her a sympathetic smile, even though he was berating himself on the inside.

"It's okay. Thank you." Garcia smiled. "She always checked on me, made sure I was eating properly, that I wasn't... harming myself... She even went over to my dorm to tidy everything when I was too depressed to get out of bed." She took a deep breath. "I swear, Spencer. She was there. And we had just met." She finished, softly.

If Spencer admired the person you were before, now he was almost tongue tied, not having the wits to come up with a comment of his own. It truly shocked him, because, one: his experience with college kids had been totally different, of course, but two: what kind of person goes out of their way, even when dealing with their personal burdens, to help someone they just met?

Garcia searched his face. A small smile on her lips starkly contrasted with her crestfallen eyes. "Shortly after her graduation, she got married and, later, pregnant with Olivia. I was still around, on and off. I joined the FBI and had less and less time to hang out, but I always had and always will have a soft spot for her. She was there for me."

He couldn't help but want to know more. He knows it should be better to learn about you from you, but, right now, he was handed an opportunity he couldn't deprive himself from grasping, "Wow. That's-That's a lot of history." He said, in a low voice, a little hesitant.

"Yes. And you will know much, much more." Penelope said, confident tone lacing her words.

"Why do I sense you're onto something?" He inquired, brows furrowing with worry.

"Because I am." She winked at him.

Oh, no.

"What?"

"Trust me on this one, loverboy." She snickered.

Penelope Garcia, the mess you'll make.

Friday rolled around with promises of a certain blonde bringing your daughter home by 9p.m. The feeling almost made you feel like a possessive mother who didn't let their kids have boyfriends. Or girlfriends. You were fine with it, by the way. Either. You just weren't currently fine with the idea of spending time away from her.

You reluctantly let Olivia go. Penelope stood behind her in your living room. You were crouching down to your daughter's height.

"Mommy, I'll be back before you know it," she said. Just like you did when she was first getting adapted to going to school. You scrunched your face, feeling like the most loved person in the whole universe.

You were.

"I'll bring you cotton candy." She promised, raising her pinky in front of you. You crossed your own with hers.

"Now you're just bribing me." You leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Is it working?" Penelope chirped in, an easy smile on her face.

You giggled, looking up at her for a moment. "Maybe..."

"Mommy loves you, okay?" You said. "I promise I can take you somewhere even cooler than aunt Garcia is taking you," you joked.

"Now you're just being mean," the woman frowned playfully.

"Yeah, mom! Don't be mean."

"I can't believe you're turning my own daughter against me. And she's scolding me. In my own house." You feigned offense. Garcia burst out in laughter with Olivia.

Two kids in your living room.

"Okay, mommy," she said, finally, giving you a kiss on each of your cheeks, just like you did with her. "Bye bye. Say bye bye to Aunt Penelope, too."

"Okay," you agreed. "Bye bye, Aunt Penelope." you teased. Olivia was already walking out, ahead of you two.

"Bye bye, mommy." Penelope joked as you walked her out. Olivia pressed the elevator button as you and Garcia stood in front of your apartment, side by side with you, watching your kid wait for the elevator. Then, she looked you up and down, a knowing look on her face.  "You're totally a hot mommy." She winked.

You didn't have an answer to that, the remark catching you off guard. Instead, you shoved her jokingly.

"Get outta here," you quipped, flustered, watching her as she entered the elevator with Olivia, holding her small hand.

You waved as the elevator doors closed. You sighed when they were out of your eyesight.

Coming back to your place, you looked around in hopes to find something to entertain yourself with. Truth was that without your daughter, you felt a little lost. Sometimes, you'd get lost in your own head, too sick with worry about losing yourself in order to be sufficient for Olivia. The remedy for those thoughts were usually doing something on your own for yourself. Tonight, you decided to cook something.

After a quick trip to the local supermarket and some embarrassment on the self-checkout cashier, you made it back to your home with everything needed to make pasta from scratch. Maybe you got a little excited by literally having your hands dirty and made enough pasta to feed the entire apartment complex. You cut them in different sizes and shapes and cursed your dad for a moment for having taught you your way around food.

Giving it a better thought, seeing your kitchen with pasta hanging to dry everywhere, maybe it was an opportunity. You turned the thought of feeding the families who surrounded you to simply feeding Spencer.

You smiled at yourself, pleased with the idea.

One, two, three eager knocks on Spencer's doors made him interrupt his Doctor Who's weekly (if no bad guys were forcing him to work) marathon. He looked through the peephole and found you, his neighbor, studying his door, probably to avoid looking directly into the hole, like it was an intricate work of art. A smile crept upon his face. He never thought he'd be so happy to be interrupted. Opening the door, he greeted, "Hi!"

A joyful "Hi!" was your answer.

You took a minute to look at him. He looked more relaxed, of course, but you came to the conclusion that he didn't own many casual clothes, because he was dressed in a dark blue Caltech sweatshirt and slacks. Funny matching, but it worked for you. Differently from what you usually saw him dressed in, he didn't appear so tired. He was glowing.

"Um, do you need anything?" He asked politely, scrunching his brows a little bit in concern as your silence became too long.

A sliver of doubt crossed through your features. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"No, not at all." He lied.

He'd take your interruptions at any time.

"Oh, that's great. It's just... I miscalculated the amount of pasta that I was um... making." You struggled to find the words, a little mesmerized by the simple act of looking at him. "Do you want to, um, do you want to have some? With me? I've been told I'm good at cooking." You finally asked, with a little convincing on top.

Not that he needed any. You had him at hi. Spencer felt disarmed.

"Yes. I-I'd love to."

"Great!" You cheered. "Come on. You can help me cut them once they dry a little bit."

He followed you into your apartment. Today, the atmosphere felt a lot different. You had music playing softly and the highlight was in the kitchen, where strings of pasta hanged from basically everywhere. There was still a small piece of dough on the surface of your kitchen counter, which was surrounded by a big, sharp knife, a pasta maker machine and some other kitchen gadgets that, surprisingly, Spencer didn't know the name of.

"Wow. It's really a lot." He thought out loud.

"Yeah," you chuckled. "I usually make small amounts, but there's no problem in freezing them." You said, glancing briefly at your watch.

"Oh, okay." He replied meekly. "I'm not so sure if I can help, though. I'm not very good at cooking."

"No!" You feigned exaggerated surprise.

"Yes," he quipped, furrowing his brows playfully.

"But you have to work for it." You deadpanned, looking him dead in the eye. "I tricked you. I only called you here so you'd help me with it. If you don't, you won't get pasta."

He raised both hands, joining your banter. Easily. Despite, despite, despite. "No problem. I like learning."

You scrunch your face, giving him the most adorable grin. "Okay, doctor. So, this small ball here," you said, pointing at the dough and rolling up your sleeves, "needs to rest for a few minutes. It needs to dry a little bit to make cutting it easier. I'll tell you how to do it once you have an apron on."

"Oh, sorry, I don't have any at home. I don't really cook." He mentioned it again.

"I thought so." You grinned. "But don't worry about it. I have a collection. My dad's a chef and everything he gives me as a casual gift is related to cooking" you chuckled.

Okay, so the miscalculated amount was definitely an excuse to have him with you. His heart felt like giving out at any minute. You wanted him there. It was almost like you had it all planned out, and Spencer watched as you moved around your kitchen so confidently and calmly, very much unlike his mind that was running miles per second. Spencer usually had a hard time calming down, but this, this was something else. He was alone with you and he didn't even know how to say anything. Simultaneously proud and jealous of your easygoing chatter, he decided that it was better to follow your lead and try not to be awkward around you than doing anything else.

Slowly being pulled out of his self-conscious and overall sad thoughts, he busied himself with watching you, instead. He smiled to himself. Again, despite, despite, despite. You grabbed an apron from one of your drawers and Spencer watched you quietly. You moved so effortlessly that he felt inclined to just sit and watch you in your own scene. In that moment, you were not Olivia's mother, not a character from a novel he imagined, not a publisher, not Garcia's friend from college, just a woman doing something she enjoys doing. And he was delighted to be present to see it.

Moving back to where he stood, you stopped in front of him. You held it out in front of you, almost waiting for his permission to get closer. Spencer nodded eagerly and you smiled. You put the apron over his head and he raised his arms, almost automatically, so you could wrap yours around him to tie it in the back, bodies mere inches away from one another. He somehow had the courage to watch your face the entire time, but you bashfully avoided his gaze, choosing to concentrate on the task at hand. Once you finished, you looked up at him, though. To offer him a smile.

But what caught his attention was the fact that he finally knew, now, what the color of your eyes were. They seemed a lot different than when he first saw you. Different shades swirled around your pupils in such harmony that he decided that, from then on, he'd associate these colors with you and with you only. You aimed your gaze at him with something so distinguished he couldn't quite decipher what it was, suddenly and momentarily losing his profiling abilities. Spencer knew immediately that he could never shake that moment from his memory. Then, he also noticed that you had a smudge of flour on your cheek, but he didn't have the heart to tell you to clean it up, too stuck in the warmth of your gaze. He thought of it as a reminder of what you were doing, the moment you were sharing together.

He smiled back at you.

"Okay, I guess that's it, then," you announced, voice barely above a whisper, finally. He felt both relieved and deprived from the sweet torture you put him in. He wanted to be under your spell for longer, but he worried he would be too entranced and make a fool out of himself. "First, I'm gonna divide it in half. Oh, wait. What do you want to eat? I have shrimp, chicken and minced meat. But I can also try to do something vegetarian if you don't eat meat." You blabbered inconsistently, jumping from one topic to another, our eyebrows flying to your forehead in concern for a moment.

"It's okay," he soothed you, "I'll have anything." He added softly.

You happily nodded at him. "Alright. So I'm gonna be a good teacher and tell you to use the machine to open it first, but a cook must be skilled enough to know how to open and cut pasta without one of these gems," you said.

He grinned. Cooking classes were not in his weekend bingo, but here he was. Not wishing for anything else. "I'm glad you're walking me through it." He said. "I can hardly boil an egg."

"What? I couldn't tell." You said, faking earnestness, while opening a piece of dough with a roller. You had your eyes on it, rolling the dough on the counter to make sure you'd open it completely. He was mesmerized by your focused expression. Looking at your skilled hands. Watching.

"Really?" He asked, lighting up.

"Yeah, I could. Sorry." You said, snickering, folding the dough on itself to start cutting it. The result was thicker strings of pasta, like fettuccine. "You look like the kind of guy who only eats outside."

"I am." He confided, trying to mimic your previous actions. "Maybe you're the profiler."

"Nah, just a real observant neighbor." He laughed. "Hey, you're doing alright." You told him once you saw what he was doing. Your stare was on his hands. Oh. His deft hands, albeit not accustomed to the task, worked dexterously, flexing the veins on his forearm. You shook your head lightly as an attempt to get rid of the thoughts, glad he wasn't paying attention to you.

Being with you, he realized, was easy. He condemned himself for overthinking the advice Penelope had given him earlier about asking you out today, because she planned on taking Olivia out. He had decided not to under the excuse that a case might pop at any second, but the truth was he was too afraid to be rejected. 

"Okay, so you can open the dough, Doctor. Good job!" You teased as you watched him use the machine instead of the rolling pin like you did.

"I'm decent at it, yeah," he quipped.

Spencer Reid being able to take and to crack jokes about himself. He decided then that he liked jokes, he liked your banter, but because you weren't mean to him.

Something in him finally started to heal.

"Alright." You placed yourself beside him. He gulped at the closeness. "See how I'm doing with my hands." Was it appropriate to answer that he hadn't looked away not even for a second? "You wanna fold it over and over. Careful not to stick it, though, so be gentle. You can use a little flour to help you. Wanna give it a try?"

He only nodded and you helped him fold it. He wasn't as skillful as you were — hell, your movements seemed rehearsed from how much ease you had at doing them. He was a little slower, but he moved in an effective way. "Careful not to cut yourself, Spencer." You whispered to him, to which he hummed weakly.

"Is there a right way to hold the knife?" He asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your reply was to touch his right hand, the one holding the knife, and closed his fingers around its base. Grabbing his left hand, you curled his fingers on top of the dough, and, slowly, pushed the knife down to cut it. "See?" You pulled the cut dough, revealing a string.

He wondered hastily if he could have some more time with your hands on top of his. Your delicate hands, even dirty, beat every single texture he had felt on top of his. Spencer couldn't answer anything. "Okay! Now we can set them to dry."

"Where?" He asked, robotically. You grinned.

"We gotta find somewhere." You chuckled. "By the way, it's best if we keep them away from the others." You advised.

"Why is that?" He inquired, intrigued look on his face.

"I, um, made some with eggs, you know, the traditional one." You bit your lip. "I also made a recipe with no eggs in case you had any restrictions."

Usually, he'd be speechless, not used to being treated like this. Not being one people usually thought of so intentionally, so dearly, so full of carefully. He noticed, though, that as he spent time with you in your kitchen, every one of your actions peeled away some of his issues. Then, "Oh, wow." He said, a hint of a cocky expression dancing around his features. If you kept that attitude, he might even become greedy. He remembered about your so-called miscalculation for the second time.

You finished up the meal in an instant, too fast for Spencer's liking. He was observant, of course, and you made sure to tell him about what you were doing and why you were doing every step of the way, like he was a child acquiring language. He was a grown man learning how to be around you, studying your every movement and engraving it to his memory, trying harder than he ever did when learning English (or other languages). Those came to him naturally. You, on the other hand, were full of patterns he didn't quite know yet — not that he wasn't dying to.

"Okay. We're done." You said, softly, plating the meal on two white plates. "Do you want to sit with me on the balcony?"

"Yes."

"Be there in a second. Make yourself at home."

His face lit up. Joy and embarrassment fighting to control him.

As he left with the plates in hand, which was a little funny to you, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen as much as you could. You glanced at Spencer, meticulously placing the plates on the table to help you out. You couldn't control the sigh that made its way out of you, out of the very depths of your being.

Sitting down with him after you both ate to your heart's content, he complimented you. "It's not very often that I get to eat this well." He chuckled. "And you're a good chef. You make things efficiently and neatly." He said, looking at you. You looked straight ahead, longingly, into the city.

You shrunk your shoulders, a little embarrassed. Was he flirting? His words were completely different from what you used to consider flirting. Too analytical, too technical. "Thanks!" You exclaimed, albeit meekly.

Silence.

Spencer was rummaging through his big brain for something to say. You were, sort of, deflating from basically carrying the interaction all night long. Letting too many thoughts consume you all at once. "I'm not really an interesting person, so I'm not sure what I should say," he chuckled, a little disappointed by having your attention somewhere else.

Your heart probably doubled in size.

You crossed your legs on the chair. "I think you are an interesting person," you said softly, looking at him. "And I think there's no shame in being silent. It's nice. I know you like it."

His heart was making somersaults in his chest.

"Yeah..." he chuckled. “But I’d like to talk to you.”

"Try me! Penny said you can do magic, good ice-breaker. It's so nice, but so baffling!" You gushed. "I can't even do the classic trick, that one that you're supposed to be pretending to pull your thumb off. Olivia says I'm not convincing enough." You laughed, shooking your head and squinting at him. "Can you believe that?"

"She's a very bright kid." He said, amused. "It must be hard tricking her."

"Yeah, it is."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Penelope asked to take her out. Pasta time was supposed to be time spent with her. But I guess you're a good substitute."

Again, Penelope was onto something. That was when he knew for sure that his theory from earlier was correct.

"Can I tell you something?" He decided to be honest, instead.

"Is everything alright?" You ask, searching his face for something that told you if there was something wrong.

"Yes! Yes! Everything's fine." He blurted. "It's just that, earlier, Penelope was, ahem, encouraging me to ask you out on a... date. I kept thinking about it and maybe I actually overthinked everything and ended up making excuses not to ask you out.”

You were taken aback by his words. You blinked once, not expecting his words, those words, and failing at trying to slow the racing of your heart and at stopping the smile creeping up on your face. “It's… it's no problem. Don't worry.”

Spencer couldn't help but glance over, listening attentively to your reply. Your words struck a softer tone, a side of you that was filled with warmth and genuine affection — he was estranged to it, not being used to being so understood. It caught him off guard. He watched from his seat, his heart still aching from feeling scared, but filled with a new emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint yet. “Would you, um, would you say yes?”

“To what?” You faked coyness, but you knew he could see right through you. You weren’t a good actress.

He smirked, encouraged by your playful mannerisms. “If I asked you on a date.”

“Well, yes.”

Oh, so it was bravery. He felt it completely, now.

A deep breath from his end. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“There's nothing I would want more.” You replied, tone full of mischief, but your eyes held all the truth he needed to confirm that he was actually going to spend time with you in a more… romantic, perhaps private setting. “Does that count as a yes?”

Spencer was hyper-aware of himself and his reality. Therefore, used to his own little life and the trauma and suffering that came with it, he had grown accustomed to the thought that romance was far out of his reach—  stories only told by books and didn’t, couldn’t exist in real life, in his life; writers were just too idealistic. Thus, being used to those thoughts, but secretly refusing to take them as the sole truth of his life, romance came to him in the shape of silly scenarios to help him fall asleep. Now, he was suddenly changing his mind, relieved to see that it could be real.

He was immensely glad for your bravery. He wanted some of it. Needed, even.

“It's the prettiest yes someone has ever said to me.”

“Glad to hear that, Spencer.”

“I just feel a little embarrassed by not having the courage to ask you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, again, with an adoring look in your eyes, gazing at him, “we can share courage when things get too much.”

“Hey!” Olivia greeted once Spencer opened his door after her persistent, but gentle knocking. He looked around, but you were nowhere to be found. He crouched down to her height. “Here’s a sticker. Mommy said you were very brave last night.” She placed the adhesive on his vest, a star shaped sticker. “Here’s other sticker. Mommy also said you were helpful.” She said, adorning his vest once again.

Oh, my God, he thought, even her daughter knows.

He chuckled, not having it in himself to let the opportunity to joke go. “Oh, so we get rewards for good behavior?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, we do. When I get five, mommy gets me something I want. Usually cookies.” She replied, sounding satisfied with herself.

“Thank you, Olivia. I'm gonna make sure to keep them so I'll know when it's time to ask for my gift.” He said, ruffling her hair playfully.

At the conference room, Aaron Hotchner couldn't help but frown at the sight of the extra accessories on one of his agents’ vest, almost interrupting his briefing in order to address the topic to quench his curiosity. “Reid, why do you have star stickers on?”

He shrugged, failing at disguising his happiness, the corners of his lips curving up. “These were a gift.”

He was brave.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Bruce(secretly jealous because that is his father figure): Alfred seems to favor you

Isekai Reader: *not going feral and a complete menace for once and is behave* Oh you see I was out grocery shopping with Jay

Bruce: stay away from my son

Isekai reader: lemme finish!

Bruce: ....

Isekai Reader: Jeez, so as I was saying i went out to help grocery shopping and Jay went to buy something

Isekai Reader: I found an interesting vintage shop and head inside to explore and I saw a fine china tea set

Isekai reader: and I was like "oh hey mr. Alfred has a cabinet of them let's buy it"

Isekai reader: who would've thought that was a piece he was looking

Bruce: that's it?

Isekai Reader: yuh

Bruce, on the phone texting Tim: make some orders of vintage tea sets-

Isekai! Reader/you: you’re just jealous that your dad figure is now my dad figure.

Bruce: I don’t do siblings.

Isekai!reader/you: me neither and besides it’d me weird to date your son in that sense.

Bruce: keep my son’s name out of your mouth.

Isekai! Reader/you: keep threatening me all you want I’m still gonna hit either way.

Bruce: …

Isekai!reader/you; so anyways I got Alfred that tea set he needed, but then I also noticed that this shop had these ivory cutlery set and it was a little high in prince but I knew that Alfred admired some finely made cutlery as the next guy. So..

Bruce: so?

Isekai! Reader/you: I stole your card and bought it with it :)

Bruce: YOU WHA- *bruce exe stopped working* then technically I bought it then. *suddenly smug*

Isekai! Reader/ you: …Bruce I’m broke, I’ve got no money, no home, no food to put in my mouth. The first time you saw me I was beating the joker into unconsciousness…

Bruce:…fair enough keep the card.

Isekai!reader/you: bad decision really.

Bruce: I’m rich.

Isekai!reader/you: I know…does that mean I can use it to date your son-

Bruce: don’t push it.

[soldearestsoulmate]

This...went completely elsewhere on what I was planning in the end. Whoops?

A idea over how Sol would react to a MC who isn't as trusting of him, and pretty much wants nothing to do with him.

Warnings: Implied drugging, nonconsensual acts, sexual assault, stalking, obsessiveness over the MC, etc.

The only reason you helped him that day in the library was because you felt bad for the guy. Nothing more.

And the fact you shared a class was him was a coincidence, and bother too. You wanted to put that day behind you, but seemed you couldn't now.

You tried to ignore him, said to him to just move on from that incident when he brought it up. But he seemed to want the opposite.

Suddenly he's asking you to eat with him during lunch. You declined. Then after a few times of saying no, he started to go to the cafeteria with you, but never sat with you and your group of friends.

He sat alone in another table, clearly uncomfortable but stayed near by. And watched you, observed you from afar...You tried to ignore it, ignore him, but everyone noticed it now. It was awkward.

Until you had to leave the place and he followed along like a puppy. Since it was becoming too much now for you to endure.

Then he started to offer(insist) on helping carry your books, help with your work, etc. Even if you didn't like it or want it.

It was driving you mad, and you felt uncomfortable, especially since he didn't know about personal space now, or the meaning and word "NO".

Crowe tried to reassure you maybe he's just trying be friends with you is all. Just doesn't know how well...And then he brought up how he was very determined like him to always be with you and by your side. To break through your barriers to finally have you trust him. And see he meant no harm to you. Only wanted to be your friend...(and more maybe one day).

Though...Crowe was different. You knew this, or recalled that is...Sol however...It felt...wrong...troubling. Something didn't feel right, and you listened to your gut instead of pushed it away.

Yet even with all that, Sol continued to follow you. Until you had enough, and accepted him in your life. Since all the fighting back was pointless anyway you felt finally.

He became a second shadow to you now. But a clear one all could see, and some even avoided you now since he became a personal body guard too.

"...Fuck...Forgot my penci--" "I got one, pumpkin." "...T-thanks..." You never understood why he called you that...It made you feel weird...Yet tried to get used to it. It was just a silly nickname after all. No real deep meaning or all behind it, right?

Then he started to accompany you home, enter your home, through your invite that is...That's when you should of listened to your gut but you were tired. He exhausted you. He was annoying but never tried anything to harm you, so you thought whatever to it all...You should of listened...kept fighting.

The next day you woke up in bed, drowsy, and felt...odd...Your body felt, not like itself, but you couldn't understand why. Then you realized you were in bed, no recollection how you got there...What even happened last night?

Then you realized, you were being held by someone...Their arms wrapped around you. It startled you, scared you. You moved away fast and noticed who was in bed with you...Sol...

"W-what the hell?! W-what are you doing in my bed!" Shit shit...what happened?! You couldn't remember. Your mind was racing over this all. But Sol tried to calm you down, reassure you nothing happened, that you were okay. Just you both fell asleep in bed together after talking a long time, and he accidently clung to you in his sleep. That's all. (That was a lie.)

That calmed you down a little, but you still felt uncomfortable over this all.

"...Please leave. I appreciate you not doing anything to me, and staying over...I guess... But...I need time alone. Also I got to get ready for school." Sol nodded and gave a small frown but asked for something before leaving. "...Can I give you a hug before I go? If that's...alright?"

Now you were more weirded out than before...but he looked really sad as he looked at you, with pleading eyes at that...God...It was just one hug right? You didn't like them but said fine finally.

The way he hugged you felt like you being engulfed whole. He held you close, and tight. Then you felt something at your neck...His lips ever so lightly brushing against your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, and you wanted to push him back and off but he didn't budge.

"S-Sol. I think this is enou--!!" It was without warning, he bit into your neck, making you let out a loud gasp. Shit you should of hated this, you wanted to but it felt...familiar, so...good? What was going on with you?

"Heheh...Just like last night..." Hearing that made you feel ill and confused. What did he mean? But before you could ask, he bite again, but sucked on your flesh where he bit at. You felt your body heat up from that now. Your hands gripped his back, and nails started to dig and claw into him. Though that only excited him more.

"I want you to remember what happened before...I might of...lied about nothing happening last night...But you'll forgive me right? After you remember how good it felt. How good I make you feel~."

Now you tried again to push him off but he didn't move. He was strong...Stronger than you believed. Shit if he was this strong then why did he take those hits before that day in the library? Why did he jus--Before you could try to piece together why. He kissed your lips, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and intruded in you.

You tried to fight back at first, then suddenly you found yourself enjoying this, loving this...Before you knew it you were back onto your bed, him on top of you. Making out with him. While already he was rubbing your sweet spot below, making you groan and whimper during it all. You didn't want this...right? Your mind screamed no but your body...It said other wise...

"You'll finally know how much I love you, pumpkin. You'll finally realize we're meant to be~." His words scared you...Yet like a moth to a flame, he drew you in.

And even though your mind was screaming no, this couldn't have been too bad, right? Since it felt right, and good...He made you feel good.

Maybe for once, it was okay to let him in...to trust him...

[vickytaa]

Music keeps me alive. M.S. Chapter IV

sumerry: y/n's father passed away, and she moved to Boston to finish school. She always keeps her headphones on, only she knows the reason why. What happens when she meets Matt?

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III

Y/n Pov:

I was never a big fan of parties, especially when I didn't know anyone, but being next to Matt always calmed me down a bit. After the thing with Emily, everything felt weird and uncomfortable, but the guys quickly noticed it on my face and made me feel at ease again.

“Honey, I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back,” I told Matt, who kissed me on the forehead and let go of my hand so I could go. It didn't take long, or well, a little bit. I just did my business and touched up my makeup a bit, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back out. The party wasn’t bad, and getting to know the guys' friends better is great, it's just that I was tired and I've never been one to go to these parties, but if Matt liked it and it made him happy, obviously I was going to go with him.

As I walked in, I was met with a crowd of sweaty bodies dancing together, which made me a little uncomfortable. But when I found Nick talking to Chris, everything else faded away. Reaching the circle where everyone was chatting, I saw him. Matt was wrapping his arm around Emily's waist, just like he used to with me. He must have made a mistake. But how could he not realize it wasn't me? Maybe he'd just had too much to drink... But Matt doesn't drink much. I was approaching them when I saw Emily grab his jaw and kiss him. He didn't pull away, he kissed her back. How? Why? Didn't anyone notice that I wasn't the one with Matt?

Without realizing it, my eyes had filled with tears and some rolled down my cheeks. My breath caught in my throat. My heart ached. Those few seconds of their kiss felt like years to me. I felt invisible, until Matt heard a sob coming from me and turned around. That's when he realized that the girl he was kissing wasn't his girlfriend, it was Emily.

I was in shock, my world was falling apart, again. "What? Y/n?" I heard Matt say, looking completely confused. I had trusted him, I had told him things about myself that I never thought I would tell anyone else. I couldn't think of anything else, I wanted to get out of there, away from everything, from everyone, lock myself in my room and never come out. So I did, I turned around and started running through the crowd, while I heard Matt shouting for me to stop as he ran after me.

"Y/n! Wait!" Matt repeated, his voice desperate. I had managed to get out of the house, but hearing him cry made me unable to contain my pain and I turned around, this time stopping. "Y/n, I- I didn't- I didn't realize that... that it wasn't you. I had too much to drink and when she..." Matt started to speak, trying to explain what happened, but I couldn't take anymore pain, so much betrayal, so much everything. "No, Matt!" I tried to interrupt him, but I couldn't. He had come very close and grabbed my arms tightly, afraid I would leave. "I thought you had already come back and..." "Matt! Stop!" I yelled, now desperate because I couldn't escape. Matt stood still, slowly raising his gaze that was fixed on the floor to meet mine. My tears were now falling uncontrollably, despite my enormous effort to stop them. "Matt, let go of me," I said, now in a softer, lower tone. But he didn't let go. "I don't want you to leave Y/n. Please," Matt started begging me not to leave, which hurt me even more, but I had to stay strong and respect myself. "No, Matt. Now let me go," I said again in the same tone. "No, no, no, please don't go, I need you," Matt said as he began to kneel in front of me. He was crying uncontrollably, begging me please not to leave, grabbing my legs. "Matt let go of me!" I shouted and my voice cracked.

Hearing my voice crack, Matt let go of me. I quickly ran away from there, not wanting to hear anything else from anyone. I didn't know where I was going or how long I was going to walk, all I knew was that at that moment I needed my dad. He had always been there for me in the best and worst of times, always trying to make me feel better. Even though sometimes I didn't quite understand what he was saying, he always found a way to see the good in the situation, or a way to make me feel good, no matter how bad the situation was. For example, when my cat Sherlock died, he made sure to be there for me the whole month, giving me gifts, affection, making me laugh, despite the fact that I wanted to cry, among many other things that I had never realized I needed until he was gone.

And that left a huge void in me, a pain in my chest, a sadness and a need for him to come back, not at 2 in the morning at my lowest point of mental breakdown, but when I was laughing with my cousins while playing at the last family dinner all together.

I didn't need the music. When I said it kept me alive, it was a lie, what kept me alive was the memory of my dad. The countless nights I spent sleeping in his arms while listening to his favorite records, the road trips singing at the top of our lungs while mom laughed at how much we were alike, that's what kept me alive.

After an hour of walking in the middle of a neighborhood I didn't know, I decided to order an Uber home. The ride was quick, I got home and opened the door, still in costume. "Hi honey! How-" My mom started talking until she looked into my eyes. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" She started asking me a million questions, but I wasn't really listening. I couldn't feel anything but pain. Why does something bad always have to happen when I'm having a good time? It broke my heart to see myself so vulnerable in front of my mom, not knowing what else to do but wanting to run away from everything, like we had done when Dad died. My mom understood that I wasn't going to talk now so she hugged me. She knew I needed my father there, and maybe that wasn't something he would have done, but now he wasn't there and she had to find a way to make me feel a little better. I was crying uncontrollably, and my mom's hug made me cry more, but it helped me, because I felt more comfortable expressing my feelings, I felt accompanied, I felt at home. After a while hugging, my mom helped me go to bed and lay down next to me. Maybe I'll never say it, but I was very grateful to her.

That night, I could sleep very little, so my mom let me sleep a couple more hours and then try to talk about what happened yesterday. When I woke up, I stretched and grabbed my phone. There were thousands of messages and missed calls from Matt, but I couldn't even start looking at them when my eyes started to fill with tears again. I decided that maybe I wouldn't want to see my phone for a few days, so I just turned it off and got out of bed. My mom was making breakfast, like every day. "Good morning, my love. How are you feeling?" she asked. How do I feel? It was my time to speak, to explain everything that had happened, to talk about everything that has been happening to me lately since Dad died, to talk about my desire to leave, to talk. But who cares? If I have a problem, the problem is mine and I have to solve it myself, if I talk to someone I'm sure I'll bother them, I can't talk. If I talk, I cry. Why can't I explain what I feel like everyone else?

I simply swallowed my urge to cry and nodded. I sat down for breakfast and just sat there, staring at the plate of food in front of me. "Y/n, please," Mom said without explanation. I started eating. When I finished, I went upstairs to go back to sleep. I had nothing else to do. When I got up, I would just stare at the ceiling, not knowing what to do. Read? I couldn't form a complete sentence in my mind. Listen to music? I can't even hear my own thoughts. Talk to someone? I cry.

The moments from last night replayed over and over in my mind. The turn the night took, before we went out we were all doing great, happy, and at the end we didn't even leave the party together. I wonder what Matt is thinking, what he's doing. Is he thinking about me? Why would he think about me now if he didn't think about me before kissing Emily? God. I need to sleep and never wake up again.

The emptiness inside me grew bigger and bigger. I don't know if I'll ever trust anyone again. I feel broken and alone, as if the world around me is falling apart and there's nothing I can do but watch it crumble. I don't understand why he would want to make me believe he was in love with me and that he loved me only to break my heart. A big part of me wanted to talk to him and tell him what a jerk he is, the other part wanted to believe that it was an accident and that there's still hope.

The following days were the same, I only left my room to eat or go to the bathroom, I missed a whole week of school, I left my phone off, in short, I disappeared for everyone except my mom. She understood that I didn't want to go to school now because I didn't want to see Matt's face, but she refused when I asked if we could move because if I did anything here it reminded me of him, and that hurt me a lot. "No, honey, we're not moving again." I was crying again, begging her to leave. "Mom, please!" I said in my broken voice, full of pain. My mom's heart broke seeing me like that, but she couldn't take a step back again. "Honey, listen, when your father... passed away, I couldn't go back home because I was afraid of having to start over without him. He was the engine of my life." Her eyes began to fill with tears, she paused to catch her breath and spoke again, "That's why we moved, because I couldn't go back home and see all his things. But now that some time has passed, I could think about it better and I think maybe it wasn't the best thing on my part, because with that I taught you that if something bothers you you have to run away from it, and no, you have to talk. I barely knew Matt, but he seems like a good guy, and it shows that he really loves you and would never do anything to make you feel bad." She finished and I saw a tear fall and roll down her face. "Mom..." I said in a weak voice. "Honey, talk to him." "I... I can't," and with that I ran to my room and locked myself in again.

When the weekend arrived, I found myself out of my room, in the living room, listening to music again after so many days. As the first song was about to start, I heard the doorbell ring. Who was it? I wondered. Honestly, I didn't want to see anyone, especially at that moment, because I had red and swollen eyes, my hair in a messy bun, a big t-shirt and shorts.

But I didn't think about it much either, so I quickly got up from the couch and walked to the door. The doorbell rang again, it seemed like the person behind the door was desperate. "I'm coming!" I said, a little annoyed by the impatience. I opened the door and there was Nick, who looked very worried, and as if he had been crying, but little compared to what I had cried. "Y/n, I need help," Nick said. I knew this was serious, because he went straight to the point, without greeting or anything. Before I could ask, Nick explained what was happening: "Matt... he's not eating, he's not talking, he won't leave the room, Y/n please, we've tried everything, but-" I interrupted him, "Wait, wait, what happened to him?" I couldn't believe it, Matt was bad, very bad. Could it be because of...? "When you ran out that night, we went after Matt and found him crying on the floor. We took him home, we tried to talk to him, but he doesn't answer, he just locked himself in the room and won't come out. I'm afraid he's going to do something bad. I'm scared, Y/n."

I knew what happened between us had affected him, but hearing it from Nick? This is terrible. Nick is never afraid of anything. I knew I had to do something to help his brother, as much as it hurt me, Nick and his brothers were still my friends and seeing him so devastated broke my heart.

I tried to calm him down a bit, we spent some time together, but my mind was fixed on Matt, I had to help him. So when Nick left, I turned on my phone, after a few days off. And there were millions of messages from Matt, of all kinds, but they all ended with an 'I love you, I'm sorry'. I can't deny that my heart didn't break as I read the messages.

I couldn't wait any longer, there was no more time, I changed into a more comfortable outfit, greeted my mom and left the house, to head towards the triplets' house.

a/n: I cried writing this chapter. What happens when she goes to their house? I can't wait

love yall:))

[bethanydelleman]

Hi, you seem really knowledgable about Jane Austen theories, so I wonder if you know where this whacky theory I heard in 2021 comes from. I forgot who said it and I can't find it again.

The theory basically goes that every Jane Austen book is secretly about extramarital pregnancies. For example, the one in Emma would be that the Weston's baby is actually Jane Fairfax's, and that the only reason Jane came to town was to hide that fact.

Oh I think you stumbled across He Who Must Not Be Named Lest He Appear And Ruin Our Day (Arnie, for an indirect link, here he is on the First Impressions podcast). He's a Jane Austen tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist and his theories are fully bonkers.

Also, he seems to have trouble counting months because his timeline (as I remember it) would have Jane pregnant for far over nine months. If I recall correctly, his idea was that John Knightley (I know) got Jane pregnant, so she seduced Frank Churchill at Weymouth to pass the baby off as his, (this would occur in September) but then doesn't have the baby until July the next year, which is um... too many months! Especially if you consider she has to know she was pregnant, which before tests would take at least 2 months. (Mrs. Weston got pregnant in November, according to the calendar)

I don't usually dismiss people and their ideas out of hand, but just listen to that podcast if you don't believe me. The hosts are eating it right up but that man is fully off the deep end.

So yeah, you can feel free to throw that idea, and that Edward cutting up a scissor sheath is code for sexual assault, right out the window.

[rebouks]

The first day of the new school year began much the same as any other; being accosted by the hallway monitor for dawdling, having inappropriate footwear and daring to possess yet another pair of headphones, only for them to remember who he was and abandon any hopes of receiving an explanation, or an excuse.

Robin thought he would’ve outgrown his selective mutism by now, but apparently, it didn’t work like that. He’d eventually seen a therapist a few years prior, but the poor man didn’t exactly have a handbook for “strange child who can’t speak sometimes due to other people’s overwhelming head voices but won’t/can’t explain himself to anyone other than a ghost who’s stuck in his attic” so, it’d fallen a little flat. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; but the older he got, the more he started to think he’d been using his gift as a convenient excuse for some of his issues. Maybe. Possibly.

Much less bombarded than when he was little, Robin could usually tune out the everyday chatter within surrounding minds, though he rarely did. He’d become far too accustomed to being nosy, and at this point it was weirder NOT to hear everyone else’s thoughts. It produced an intense itchy feeling that was almost impossible to ignore, as though he’d miss something important the moment he stopped listening.

As a result, Robin struggled to live in the moment, and for himself; constantly juggling other people’s thoughts and emotions as well as his own. Sometimes he wondered if he’d understand his brain better if it belonged to someone else, like if he could observe it from a distance as with everyone else, it’d make more sense-.. or maybe paying more attention in Mr Fitzherbert’s biology classes would help. He supposed he was still overwhelmed after all, just better at hiding it.

Either way, he wasn’t about to admit to all this nonsense out loud, especially not if it landed him in Doctor Abbott’s office again. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out how weird he actually was, least of all a psychologist. Think of all the experiments they’d want to do, all the prodding and poking-.. or worse. Robin shuddered at the thought. No, thank you!

Previous // Next

[vamp-bites]

So. Uh. Hi. Hello.

I was wondering if you could... Offer some haunted knives au crumbs.... I need to know in excruciating detail about this new ring of Legato hell.

How did u sense that I nearly doubled the word count on my doc for this au the day u sent this... unfortunately I wasn't hashing out the Legato bits but I can tell u what I've got anyway

So far my plan for Legato in this au is not extensive but he will haunt Knives out of the corner of his eye from the point Knives first sets foot back in Octovern to when he's finally face to face with him again in an alleyway in December.

I wanna have Legato haunting him be more of a source of horror for Knives instead of annoyance like Wolfwood, but end with them having a conversation that sort of closes the door on the "Millions Knives" persona for Knives, he officially divorces himself from that identity through divorcing himself from Legato. Legato, to Knives, represents everything he's trying to leave behind him so when this ghost comes crawling out of its grave and clawing at his leg and vouching for its eternal loyalty to him he freaks out and tries his hardest to kick him off him.

at this point Knives has told Vash that he's no longer gonna be "Millions Knives" and will from here on out be just "Knives: a citizen of NoMan's Land" and to make good on his word he believes he needs to leave Legato behind but he's also realizing that he was this guys whole world in life and now that he's dead Knives is the only living entity on the planet that can see/communicate with him and he doesn't know what to do about that because the last thing he wants to do right now is keep Legato around because he feels like every minute he spends with his ghost lurking over him is a minute wasted regressing back from the little progress he's started to make.

basically, Legato needs to pass on and accept rejection and Knives needs to move on and leave his old self behind. and they cannot do that together. so Knives uses a shred of power to physically touch Legato in order to shove him away from him and leaves him in that alleyway.

as of now i haven't 100% decided how Legato ends up but just leaving him in that alleyway doesn't feel right so I'm thinking that later on, when Knives has gotten a bit more of a solid sense of self than he starts off with in the story and the mere presence of Legato doesn't feel like a black hole anymore, he finds him again, still there but slowly fading into a ghostly sludge of a vengeful spirit that can't move on, and they make some amount of peace with each other and Legato passes on. I'm still workshopping it tho

P.S. Knives does ask Legato whether he was in love with him and Legato says he actually isn't sure and its not a yes but its not a no and Knives, local aromantic who recently discovered that romance is not exclusively a human construct, doesn't know what to do with that information because the idea of a human being in human-love with him places him within a human social system that he previously considered himself completely above and suddenly he feels way too much like a normal person having normal person experiences and he finds it uncomfortable because he just decided to play the role of "person" like a week ago and he's new to it

P.P.S. there is a chance their entire initial encounter happens while Knives is slightly tipsy and/or hungover because in my timeline it happens right after he gets drunk for the first time with Livio

[al-luviec]

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[windowsmillennium2000]

selfshipping is so hard for me with engage with genuinely because i cannot imagine how any of my beloved characters would end up in a scenario where they would ever be talking to me

[fruitybashir]

I'm actually really wondering how Bojan feels about... everything, cause Kris is just in denial but he's clearly very deeply in love. But what about Bojan? Does he know that he is in love with Kris? Is he also in denial? I don't think he really knows but maybe he does feel it but can't place the feeling?

You probably can't really answer this without spoiling, but I just had to ask.

😌

sorry i started typing out two tags and then just kept going i shouldve just put this all here but now its too late argh. sorry </3

[noahtally-famous]

not me popping back on here with a post after months of semi-inactivity (uni is being a bitch) just to reiterate how much i love writing the pahkitew island cast.

aside from sammy and amy (obviously), literally everyone else can be shipped with one another and it'd make sense to some degree, like it takes skill to create a group of people so inherently shippable (platonically and/or romantically) and ofc the writers didn't know it they just shoved a bunch of random ppl together and dusted their hands off on it but fr tho 😭

(yeah im planning out my leonave 'stranger things inspired' au, and the gears are turning, and i forgot just how much i love writing for this dumbass group)

(i swear im working on the next chapter of a guide to surviving the apocalypse too)

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I fucking HATE how the fandom treats m.ine. it's so bad 😭

[nenoname]

finally got to watch dipper and mabel vs the future and two of the weirdmageddon eps with my sis and it's a weird feeling after reading the initial pitch bible for the show because you then realise that ford's apprenticeship offer is basically what alex had pitch!stan's motivation be (aka pitch!stan being the guardian of gravity falls and deciding which twin should be his successor to protect the town)

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Straight up love how X-Men 97 got a shit ton of new Rogue X Gambit fans and old fans coming back and shit...but Marvel comics for some reason decided the people just need...a fucking comic that brings back Rogue X Magneto.