#these two are still dumb and very much in love :)

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant. 

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place. 

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.” 

Now he knows you’re messing with him. 

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about. 

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression. 

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face. 

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?” 

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling. 

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable. 

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink. 

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop. 

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention. 

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company. 

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful. 

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.  

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours. 

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing. 

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap. 

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself. 

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him. 

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid. 

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this. 

“I’m sorry,” you chirp. 

“Don’t apologize.” 

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did. 

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion. 

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder. 

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared. 

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep. 

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine. 

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings. 

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open. 

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass. 

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked  upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along. 

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend. 

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash. 

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night. 

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[reids-slut]

An Invisible Locket

Chapter 4: A Bad Feeling

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader // Secret relationship

Description: You work with your best friend and your boyfriend. The only problem is, nobody knows Spencer Reid is your boyfriend of over a year. When you find out that Spencer's getting sent out on a case immediately after getting back to Quantico, impulses take over. (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, oral sex (M & F receiving), PIV sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion (in a pro-choice context, though Reader ends up choosing to stay pregnant), minor mentions of alcohol and cancer.

As for the crime subplot, much of it is very canon-typical (referenced child abuse & grooming by an extended family member (non-sexual), violence, blood/gore, drugs. As always, please feel free to let me know if I miss any CWs!

A/N: This fic is obviously heavy on the Spencer and Reader relationship, but it's also got a significant Garcia best friend plot line and crime plot line. This fic also features an unplanned Reader pregnancy. Reader debates abortion and is pro-choice, but ultimately ends up keeping the pregnancy. If any of that isn't up your alley, please feel free to skip this fic!

Names used: Baby, baby girl, good/sweet/pretty girl, daddy, good boy (once), my love.

Words (this chapter): 3.7 K

Words (total): 29.1 K

It’s been 8 days since the team landed in Florida and the situation is more tense now than it was before. After the third victim was found, you and Penelope managed to crack the case as to how these unsubs were procuring their victims.

The team profiled that the dominant either is or was in the medical field. So far, that theory has proven correct. You and Penelope gained access to the victim’s computers and, after the third one, found a particular pattern. All three victims had visited a medical advice website which gave advice on ridding the body of parasites.

It wasn’t flagged with the first two victims because James MacDermott, the victim who worked in IT, was savvy with his internet history and routed any odd or explicit searches through a VPN and TOR network.

Regardless, they eventually all wound up on some hippie, detox, and toxins, medical misinformation site: Phoenix Sage’s Healing Center, located in (you guessed it) Florida. To top it all off, they advertise a healing retreat on the website.

They most likely indoctrinated the victims into a virtual cult-like relationship, further pedaling medical misinformation and making them believe that they needed detoxing or whatever.

To search engines, this site indexes as if it’s a normal, plain old medical advice website like WebMD. The domain name was registered with fake personal details and paid for with cryptocurrency. They covered their tracks quite well, but it’s only a matter of time before you find the digital breadcrumb trail.

As for the submissive unsub, he happened to be dumb enough to leave a print on the suitcase that the third vic was found in. Thankfully, he was in the system. The team’s morale really needed a win because, by the time the lab was able to lift that print and match it, a fourth victim had been found.

The submissive was, as profiled, a young, white male. Emily pegged the age at between 16 and 30, based on how savage and amateur his attacks were.

Mason Adkins was booked yesterday. He’s 21. As evidenced by his numerous hospital visits and subsequent CPS reports, Mason was abused physically, mentally, and emotionally by his stepfather growing up.

Mason’s story is pretty standard when compared to similar psychopaths. He was kicked out at 18 for using hard drugs, racking up misdemeanors, and taking his rage out on his five younger half-siblings. His last known address is the trailer park in Cedar Key where his mom, stepfather and half-siblings still reside. He must have been either homeless or crashing with a friend.

Once the print was matched, the team was able to locate him and pick him up, but he hasn’t given up the dominant yet. The victim pool should be limited to those they’ve already indoctrinated, but until you can crack any direct communications, you won’t know who else they’ve had contact with. You and Penelope have continued working from Quantico, attempting to dig into Mason’s digital footprint, but you’ve gotten nowhere substantial. It’s hard to not feel a little dejected.

Mason was definitely the techie between the two of them. According to Penelope, “It’s like he learned from the same guys I did when I was underground, except now, they’ve all gotten even better. This kid is S-M-A-R-T, smart. Well, obviously tech-smart and not street-smart, since he left prints at the scene and all… If he wasn’t a killer, they probably would have recruited him to replace you.”

“Oh, is my fancy master’s degree suddenly not good enough for the FBI?”

“I mean, I dropped out and now I’m basically your boss, and I’m student debt-free.”

“Hey, don’t bring my massive student-debt into this! Plus, I think Hotch would beg to differ on you being my boss,” you smirk.

***

Down in Florida, Spencer’s been sharing a room with Derek, so you’re primarily only able to text him. He calls one evening while you’re at home and hearing his voice feels like a little slice of heaven in this shitstorm of case.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers.

“Good evening, my love. Where’s Derek?”

“He said he was running down to the convenience store down the street. I should have about 20 minutes.”

“So… I have to tell you something that I didn’t want to get into over text. It’s not a huge deal, but I needed to tell you before you got back.”

You’re scratching at the skin around your nails; a nervous tic of yours. You grab one of your throw pillows and hug it to your chest.

“The day you guys left,” you continue, “when we had our little lunch break, Penelope saw us leaving together and connected the dots. Well, she saw us leaving together and then tracked our phones to my place and then connected the dots. So, now she knows everything.”

He sighs, not seeming to be the least bit surprised. “Do you think maybe it’s time to tell the rest of the team? If we don’t tell them soon, you know she’s going to slip up. They’ll find out one way or another.”

“She promised me she’s going to try her absolute hardest to keep it a secret.”

“Has she ever been able to keep any sort of secret that the team didn’t figure out almost immediately?”

You can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice and you suppress a giggle.

“Very good point, Dr. Reid.”

“So, maybe we should tell them? After we get back?” he asks.

“Well, there’s another thing.” You think of how to phrase it to avoid upsetting Spencer. “The morning that you guys left for Florida, Penelope was MIA for like, over an hour. It turns out she had a meeting with Hotch and Strauss because Strauss wanted to know if the team really needs two technical analysts. That said, Hotch and Penelope defended me, and Penelope said that nobody on the team would ever let her sack me.”

“That bitch,” Spencer mutters.

“Spencer Reid! How dare you speak of our beloved Penelope Garcia in such a manner!?” you joke.

You can hear him holding back a laugh. “Yeah, well, if Strauss lets you go, she’s losing me as well. But that would be after dealing with the rest of the team. Nobody in the unit is letting you go anywhere. You’re too valuable to the team. Plus, you’re part of the family.” Spencer pauses for a moment before adding, “You’re my family.”

A warmth spreads through your chest. He’s so protective of the people he loves, which is something you’ve always admired about him.

“I know,” you say. “I just don’t want everyone to go to bat for me. Hotch and Penelope already had to. Emily’s already threatened me in the past if I tried to leave. She said that she’d personally hunt me down and drag me back if I got another job.”

“That sounds about right for Emily.” You hear in Spencer’s voice that he’s smiling at your anecdote. “We knew that this time would come and maybe we should get ahead of it and tell them ourselves.”

“I’ll think about it, and we can talk about it more when you get back, okay? It feels like all I can think about is this case right now, even when I leave work.”

“Try to distract yourself or have Penelope come over to keep you company. You can’t be thinking about the case 24/7.”

“Hypocrite,” you mutter, causing Spencer to bite down a laugh.

The silence between topics is both anxious and peaceful. Talking to Spencer as his girlfriend and not his coworker is rejuvenating your soul. But you don’t want to hang up.

“Hey,” he says, his tone shifting in that single word, instantly darkening, “when I get back, I’m going to do some very bad things to you.”

You roll your head to the side with a loud groan.

“Don’t go getting me all worked up right now,” you whine. “I need to sleep!”

“Fine, fine! You keep working hard up there so we can close this case. I’ll be home before you know it and then you can fall asleep in my arms. Okay, baby?”

“Okay. Catch this son of a bitch, Spence.”

“I can only do that with your help.”

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

“Like I said, this team needs you. Garcia alone was great, obviously, but you and Garcia together are the dream team of technical analysts.”

You allow yourself pride for a moment.

“We kind of are, aren’t we?”

He giggles and you just wish you could squeeze his cheeks and kiss him endlessly.

“I love you,” he says.

“Love you, Spence. Sweet dreams.”

***

After hanging up the phone, you head back into your bathroom, picking up the unused pregnancy test from the counter. Your period is 2 days late. Periods are late or missed for all sorts of reasons, though, right?

Your cycle is usually pretty regular, but there were a few days this month where you forgot to take your pill until later in the day. Maybe that threw off your hormones? Stress can throw off your cycle too, right? What if you have some sort of cancer? Flashes of possible yet improbable future timelines whisk through your head as you repeatedly tap the unopened test against the palm of your hand. The rattle of the foil wrapper is both soothing and grating.

Okay, focus.

Taking a test will be good peace of mind. Let’s just rule that one possibility out, to start. The test will be negative and then you can worry about hormonal imbalances and cancer later. Irony says that your period will come as soon as you finish taking this thing, anyway.

You take the test out of its wrapper and grab the small plastic cup you’d already prepared before Spencer called.

You pee into the cup, filling it about halfway before setting it onto some paper towel on the counter.

You wipe, pull your underwear back up, and stare at the yellow liquid in the cup on your counter. This test will either bring you a ton of relief or it will…

That’s a train of thought that you can’t entertain right now.

“Breathe, Y/N,” you whisper into the empty apartment. A silent prayer to your body, asking it to calm down so you don’t have a panic attack.

Basically every woman has taken a pregnancy test when their period was late. It’s no big deal. The stick goes into the pee. Easy as that.

You pick up the warm plastic cup in one hand and the test in the other. It’s as if you have tunnel vision right now. You watch as the urine is rapidly wicked up the test before flowing across the display portion. After the seven seconds have passed (as per the instructions) you put the cap back on the test and place it on the counter, covering it with its wrapper.

You set a 5-minute timer and dump the rest of the cup’s contents into the toilet. You press the handle on the toilet and with the whoosh of the flush, you realize that you can hear your blood pumping in your ears; the thump, thump, thump of your heart pounding.

You wash your hands and grab your phone off the counter, trying not to catch a glance at the time left.

4 minutes, 19 seconds.

In just your comfy, oversized sleep t-shirt and your underwear, you flop down onto your bed. Your head feels like spinning with a dizzying whir.

Before you can even fully register what you’re doing or stop yourself, you’re dialing Penelope.

“This better be important because you made me lose track of how many stitches I was at in this row!”

You can’t even begin to stop the words from flowing out of you.

“I took a pregnancy test, and it’s probably negative, but can you please come over because I can hear my heart beating in my head, and I can just really use the moral support right now—”

“Y/N.” Her demeanor has entirely shifted from only a moment ago. “Hey, it’s okay. I can be over in a jiffy. Just let me throw my shoes on and grab my purse. Don’t look at it until I get there, okay?”

Penelope hangs up the phone before you even have a chance to respond. She’s always extremely quick to action when needed, which is a part of why she’s so good at her job. You’re the one who’s more likely to freeze up first. This is a great example of that.

She uses her key to let herself into your apartment and finds you laying on your bed—in the same spot you called her from.

“You didn’t look yet, did you?” she yells.

“No. I waited for you. The timer went off like three minutes ago.”

She sits down on the bed beside you, and you sit up to meet her.

“Do you feel ready to look?” she asks, quietly.

“I don’t know. I know it’s just nerves, but as soon as I took that test, I felt like I was going to pass out.” You take a deep breath and attempt to collect yourself a bit more before asking the question you know you need to. “Do you think you could look at it for me, Pen?”

“Oh, Y/N, of course.”

She wraps you in a big, warm hug, allowing you to focus on relaxing your breathing and slowing your heart rate. These big, long, calming hugs are something else you two came up with as a tool for managing the nature of your job. Huddle hugs, you call them. The time and space for connection with each other, and for calming your bodies. You know that she won’t pull away until you do, so once you feel some of the tension in your chest ease and the fog in your brain lift, you pull away and give her a thankful smile.

She goes into the bathroom and grabs the test off the counter, bringing the wrapper with it in order to keep it covered. She takes her spot next to you again and that shaky, tense feeling in your chest is quickly flooding back in. Your eyes are locked forward, purposefully keeping your gaze away from the test in her hands.

She gently places a hand on your back and rubs small, calming circles. “How do you want me to do this?”

“I just can’t look.” You grab a pillow from the head of your bed and clutch it to your chest. “I think you need to just rip the Band-Aid off before I lose my mind.”

You shut your eyes and bury your face in the pillow. Attempting to focus on calming yourself is only mildly successful for a moment, but as soon as you hear the crinkle of the wrapper, all bets are off.

The thuds of your speeding heart pumping blood throughout your body flood your hearing once again. Are you even breathing? You suddenly become aware that you’re not getting any fresh air with your face in this pillow.

The one time you don’t want to think about Spencer, memories of him clutter your consciousness. His perfect lips, even when they’re a bit chapped because he doesn’t listen to your advice about carrying lip balm. He always kisses you as if he’s thanking you for loving him, simultaneously telling you how much he loves you. The peaceful warmth that fills your chest when he’s holding you. Hearing him say your name first thing, every single morning—without fail—in his groggy, deep morning voice.

All you can think about is Spencer.

Penelope’s voice barely cuts through the fog, but once it does, your mind quiets completely.

“Honey…”

You immediately knew. You didn’t have to look at the test to know it was positive. She didn’t even have to say it outright. One word. Her single word was all you needed.

Tears immediately break free and flood your vision as you lift your head, only to turn and hide it in Penelope’s neck as she engulfs you in a big hug. Her shed tears drip onto your neck and you both start sobbing at the same time.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she struggles to get her words out through jagged breaths, “I promise, Y/N.”

You just hug her tighter in response.

Penelope knows that you have hopes to become a mother one day. But she also knows that your life is chaotic right now. Hell, she only found out about your secret relationship a little over a week ago. Regardless of whether this pregnancy is wanted or not, she knows that it’s definitely unplanned.

As she holds you, you silently thank the universe for Penelope figuring out your secret when she did, because you can’t imagine you going through this alone.

“We’ve almost caught this son of a bitch. Now, we have even more motivation to get his ass in handcuffs, because then we can throw the goddamn book at him, lock him the fuck up, and throw away the fucking key. Okay!?” Penelope says.

She never swears this much. You wipe your cheeks with your hands and nod in reply. Her impassioned pep-talk may be working, at least a little. Both of you are sniffling as you try to stop crying.

“I can’t lie and say you’re the toughest person I know, because I think we’re all aware that my pick for that title would be one, Mr. Derek Morgan.” She throws her hands up and finally gets a tiny giggle out of you. “But, after the rest of team, you’re the toughest, strongest, bravest, most resilient, most courageous, most…,” she gestures with her hands, as if the word is on the tip of her tongue, but you know she’s just trying to think of more adjectives, “most amazing, and most beautiful person I know.”

You half roll your eyes as you smile. Obviously, every member of your team, especially those in the field, are the toughest people you know. You still appreciate her sentiment and that she managed to make you laugh right now.

She lovingly brushes your hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ears. “We’ll make it through until he comes back, and then you guys can figure this out, okay?”

You let out a gigantic sigh, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes until you see static. You thought keeping this relationship a secret from the BAU for so long was a challenge. How are you going to keep this secret?

“What if Spencer calls?” you ask. “How the hell am I going to keep that in, or at minimum, not give myself away? Why are we both so bad at keeping secrets!?”

“I’m not sure, but I bet an astrologer would tell us that it’s something to do with our star signs, or something. At least we know that you’re a better secret-keeper than I am?”

Penelope thinks for a moment, but a solution comes to her fairly quickly. “How about I just stay here until the case is over and follow you around like a little lapdog? Then, if he calls, I’ll make sure you’re not giving yourself away! Easy-peasy!”

You know her forced confidence is in order to make you feel better, but it really is helping right now.

“You’ll just find any excuse to stay over at my place, huh?”

“There’s a reason that I have a second toothbrush in your bathroom already. I staked my claim here first and Spencer’s lucky I love him, because I wouldn’t be giving you up to just any man without a fight.”

You pull her in for another big hug.

“Now that I think about it,” she says, “this probably explains why you cried when we watched Finding Nemo the other night.”

“Shit,” you laugh. “That really does make more sense now. That movie has a bunch of sad parts, though!”

“It’s okay, my sweet little cherub. I don’t know a lot about pregnancy, nor do I want to, but I know that you’ve got a lot of funky hormone stuff going on right now. I’m sure Spencer will give you the rundown of exactly which hormones are doing what when he gets home.”

He probably will. Well, if he wants to keep it, that is. You aren’t even sure what you want yet. Maybe it’s just the shock and as soon as that clears, you’ll know? You just wish that Spencer was here to talk to. It’s so scary and having zero clue how he’ll feel makes it even more frightening. Without Penelope helping you down from the worst of the shock…?

“Pen, thank you.” You nod and smile, feeling your face heat as you get emotional again. “I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you right now. I probably would have passed out on the bathroom floor if you hadn’t lessened the blow for me.”

You pick the test up from the floor, where Penelope must have dropped it after seeing the result. You haven’t looked at it with your own two eyes yet. Flipping it over, your vision immediately tunnels to that little blue plus sign, everything in your peripheral a blur. It feels like you’re holding the weight of the world in your hands. Penelope wraps her arm around you and leans her head against yours.

“I was gonna say ‘Anytime!’, but then I realized that I’d hope accidental pregnancies don’t become a regular occurrence within our friendship.”

Her joke grounds you a bit and you blink yourself out of your trance. You hand the test towards her.

“You next?” you ask, a small smirk forming on your face. She takes it from you and places it on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Not unless another coworker of ours finally gives in to his desires for me, because we would have some gorgeous babies.”

“If we were at work, you’d be getting the time-out bean bag chair right now for that,” you say.

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[psychesalcove]

„ we both like apple cider, but your breath is smellin' like fruit punch

𝜗𝜚 jason grace x daughter of poseidon

+ platonic percy jackson x sister reader

synopsis ; you and jason had just started dating. neither of you were ecstatic about telling your brother, percy, about your relationship. so, you did the most reasonable thing two demigods could think of;try to pretend your just friends around him.

⚠️ ; reader is a tad dramatic ab how protective percy is, percy being a good older brother, not proofread, iris camper gets targeted bc i didnt know who else to put 😭, piper n jason didn't date in this fic, reader was kinda a bitch to percy (not in the end tho!!), don't go much into how reader n jason pretend to just be friends, reader is a tad out of tune with her emotions, mainly reader and percy centered, kissing, percy being incapable of doing his laundry, percy being a drama queen twords the end

requested ; yes, by anon !!

jason and you had only been dating for around two weeks. and it was rough. not being with jason, no, that was amazing. you had been crushing on him as soon as he arrived at camp with leo and piper. you had never been happier for your relationship change with him. you would never be.

percy was the problem. you loved your half brother, you really did. but he has a tendency to be a bit overprotective of you and tyson. most times, you don't mind at all. it means the ares cabin tries to pick fights with you less, the hermes cabin doesn't target you as much, etc.

but, percy and you dating don't go together very well. you had only dated one other camper, a child of iris, before you both decided you would work better as friends after a couple months.

percy had been there for those months, and he was not a happy camper. he consistently hovered over you and the child of iris, never letting the two of you be together by yourself, let alone in your cabin. he got better the longer you stayed together, but the underlying protective side of him was always present.

which is why you're trying to hide your relationship with jason from percy. you know percy means well, but you learned he can be a bit suffocating at times. even though jason and percy were friends, you know he'll still get protective.

so, both you and jason had mutually agreed to try to keep your relationship a secret from percy until you felt comfortable enough to tell him.

༉‧₊˚.

"so when do you think he'll catch on?" piper asked you as she laid down besides you on her bed. you were having a sleepover in the aphrodite cabin, piper wanting to share the latest gossip with you as usual.

"hopefully after we tell him," you chuckled, flipping through the pages of a vouge magazine you found on the floor. "i know percy isn't dumb, but i'm hoping that with us not being all lovey dovey with eachother in front of him pays off."

piper nodded her head. "yknow he might not mind you dating jason as much as that iris kid you dated a while back. i mean, the two are pretty good friends with eachother," hehe said as she scooted closer to you to view the magazine.

you sighed lightly. "i guess, i just don't really know," you said. "i don't want percy and jason to not be friends just because percy doesn't agree with me dating," you countied, looking at piper for advice.

"babes, i don't think percy doesn't agree with you dating. he just wants what's best for you, so he has high expectations for whoever you date." she mused, giving you the advice you were seeking for, even if it was going against what you had said.

"and, that iris kid was not cute; i can see why percy didn't want you dating them." drew added as she walked by the two of you.

༉‧₊˚.

it was a couple days after your sleepover with piper, and you were laying in your bed in your dad's cabin. you had thought over pipers (and drew's light commentary) words and realized that you were being a bit dramatic for how percy acted.

it was natural for him to be protective over you, just as you were of him. thinking about it, you would have been weary of annabeth if you were at camp before they started dating. and, drew was right. that camper you dated before was not the cutest, and also wasn't the best partner.

which percy had probably picked up on; which explains why he was so weird with you dating them. suddenly, the idea of telling percy that jason and you were dating didn't seem that bad, now having reasons for percys past behavior.

him and jason were friends, i mean they did go on a world saving quest not long ago, and they seemed to get along just fine together. (minus when they fought over a chair, piper told you that as soon as she could).

and, percy was probably really confused now thinking about it. both you and jason had tried to spend as little time as you could with him since you started dating; worried that one of you would slip up and accidentally tell him. whenever you saw percy, you tried to walk the other direction, and anytime he said something to you or tried to hang out with you, you made an excuse of being too busy.

you were brought out of your train of thought as the door opened to the cabin, percy walking in. he looked like he just got done with training and taking a shower. his hair still looked slightly damp, and he wore his orange chb shirt with his cargo jean shorts.

it seemed that he didn't notice you at first, lightly humming a tune while walking over to his bed. he started folding the pile of clothing that was on his bed, and that had been for about a week now.

you lightly coughed to alert him of your presence in the cabin, causing him to pause in his humming and turn around.

"hey, you." he said. "you tryin' to avoid me in here? yknow it isn't as affective because it's also my cabin," he tried to joke, but it just fell flat. you sighed lightly, sitting up on your bed and making eye contact with percy.

"i've been a bitch to you," you stated. his eyes widened and he laughed at your statement. you rolled your eyes in response. "i own up to how i've been acting and you laugh?" you said with an annoyed tone of voice.

percy quickly shuts up and sits on his pile of clothing bed and mirrors your position. "i wasn't laughing at you, i was just surprised that you said that instead of something else." he defended, smiling over at you. "have anything else to say?" he asked.

"me and jason are dating."

"i know."

you stared at him in surprise. "you know?" you asked with genuine question in your voice.

percy chuckled. "yeah, i do. pretty easy to tell when both of you start avoiding me and i see you two sucking eachothers lips off behind the zues cabin." he mused, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"and, you don't care?" you asked, still in shock with the information percy had just given you.

"why would i?" he said. "i mean, i know jasons good for you, i've seen it with my own eyes. he's a good person, has good morals, knows how to treat a girl right, i mean he might've been raised by a wolf but that guy is good." he says, getting up and taking a seat on your bed next to you.

he wrapped one of his arms around you and brought you closer to him. "i love ya kid, and i only want what's best for you. and jasons exactly that." percy said as you leaned into his embrace.

"but i also want you to know that if i do find jason n you making out again, the zues cabin might become flooded. just a warning in advance," he joked, but you wouldn't be surprised if that was a true statement.

you only hummed in response, bringing an arm to wrap around percy. "sorry i was such an asshole, i just wasn't expecting you to be okay with it," you said in a timid voice, not used to being so truthful with percy about these topics.

"apologie accepted," he said. "but, if you date another person like that iris kid, i'm gonna be the bitch, deal?" He asked, pulling away from the embrace and holding up his pinky finger, wiggling it lightly when you didn't move.

you rolled your eyes, but brought your pinky up to his.

"deal."

༉‧₊˚

it was friday night, which meant campfire night. after your conversation with percy, you had gone to the zues cabin to explain to jason your talk with percy. jason was more than happy that percy was okay with the two of you. (he would never tell you but he might have jumped around his cabin and im'd thalia as soon as he could to tell her).

jason and you sat at the camp fire, with the rest of the seven. even if you weren't apart of the prophecy, you still became friends with all of them; they like to refer to you as the hoary member of the seven.

jasons arm was wrapped around your shoulder, brining you to lean into his side as you both stared into the fire. one of the apollo kids was playing a song you didn't recognize, but it didn't really matter.

you were surrounded by people who you loved and who loved you back just as much: the main ones being jason and percy. both of them held special places in your heart. jason was your love, the part of you that you were always missing. percy was your sibling, even if only half, and was your partner in crime.

you saw jason make a quick glance in the direction that percy was in out of the corner of your eye. jason moved the two of you so both of you were face to face. he smiled softly at you and you returned the gesture. you saw jason take a quick glance down at your lips, and you got the cue. both of you leaned into eachother, lips softly connecting with one another.

it wasn't your first kiss with jason, but it felt like it. not feeling like it inexperienced and neither of you knew what you were doing. it felt like the first kiss because it was the first one that was happening with your relationship being out in the open.

all of camp had caught onto the fact that jason and you were dating pretty fast, as the two of you could be seen everywhere together: holding hands, kissing eachothers cheek and hands, and jason walking you to your cabin at the end of everyday.

with the warm fire and light storms of gutair in the background, it felt like you finally found exactly where you were supposed to be. you silently sent aphrodite a prayer in your head as you felt jason bring a hand up to your cheek to deepen the kiss.

both of you pulled away slowly, needing to breath for a moment. jason looked at you with such adoration in his eyes, showing nothing but his pure love for you in the moment. both of you smiled softly at eachother, jason bringing you closer so your foreheads could rest against one another.

as the song came to an end, a loud dramatic gasp was heard to the left of you.

"JASON MY LOVE HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME?" a voice, that you emideantaly recognized as percy, said. "I THOUGHT WE HAD A LOVE NOONE COULD EVER REPLACE," he countined as both you and jason rolled your eyes, pulling away from eachother.

percy approached the two of you as another song began, "jason, bud, on a serious note, you better treat her right okay? she only deserves the best and i'm expecting you to give that to her," he said in probably the most serious tone of voice you've ever heard.

as you watched jason give a salute to percy, piper and leo gave you a thumps up from behind jasons form.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Everything's Perfect

✽ Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader

You find yourself learning a painful lesson in futility when a possessive romance becomes too stifling

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

This small bit of madness was partially inspired by this post from @shotmrmiller. Thank you for your constant barrage of depraved juicy thoughts that feed us mere mortals!

Trigger warnings: stalking, unhealthy relationships, minor smut, pet play?

You’d planned it perfectly.

A couple months' careful preparation finally come to fruition as you shoved the last of your precious belongings in your oversized purse and headed towards the front door, ignoring the pang in your heart and the tears building behind bloodshot eyes as you cast your gaze one final time over the place you’d called home before departing the space forever.

You never thought you'd see the day you'd walk out on Simon Riley - simultaneously the best thing that ever happened to you and the unfortunate reason for your abrupt upheaval. The man you would have surrendered your entire being to…

…until the avid eagerness with which he wrapped your pliant form around his meaty fingers became far more predatory than it was enthralling.

At first you’d loved that about him; his borderline obsession granted you the freedom to be as clingy as you liked without overwhelming or smothering his own flames of passion. He let you express your need for him in ways that would’ve sent lesser men running for the hills. There was no judgement for the amount of affection you practically drowned him with - whether that be the hours long phone calls or back to back text messages. How you always felt the compulsory need to be physically attached even when the two of you were merely existing separately in each other’s presence. 

How you craved the nights laying cock drunk tangled in soaked bed sheets, far too shattered and dumb from overlapping orgasms to do anything but take what he gave you, whimpering like a broken toy as his wide hips battered your abused and messy quim with still no end in sight. Even overstimulated and far past the point of exhaustion, you couldn’t slake the insatiable voracity to be pumped full over and over again.

You’d ignored his own flags too, viewing them in a positive light instead of the much more sinister undertones they held. How quickly he’d moved all your belongings into his flat. The possessive grip he held on you in the presence of others. The need to know where you were at all times and showing up unannounced on the rare instances you’d forgotten to text him.

He had you apologizing for it bent over the kitchen table when you got home that night, manicured nails adding to the already bountiful collection of claw marks scratched into the polished wood.

To you, all those things were just the little ways he showed how much he truly cared.

You would’ve kept on ignoring it if not for the worried looks your close friends gave you each time you showed up to a weekly get together covered in fresh marks and bruises from being well loved. It grew frustrating having to submit to their scrutinizing over and over again. Quite honestly it had you rethinking your affiliation with them over their refusal to just drop it already.

No, he hadn’t really choked you last night. ‘But think what would happen if he did. He might not know his own strength!’

Let me ask Simon if it’s ok for me to come that weekend. ‘You shouldn’t need his permission to live your own life!’

That was just a happy coincidence that he noticed Sarah’s car out front and decided to pop in the other day. ‘How can you not see he’s stalking you?!’

It was easier to disregard their warnings than to heed them. They didn’t get Simon like you did, hadn’t spent enough time in his orbit to understand the intimate connection that tethered you to his very existence. With him there was no pretend at moderation for normalcy’s sake. Just the unimpeded loyalty that went beyond the acceptable standards of polite society.

That was just us… wasn’t it?

For as much as you protested otherwise, slowly but surely your friends’ words chipped away at your head, speaking into a subconsciousness that had been long shoved to the back in favor of romance and happily ever afters. Situations were analyzed from every angle for a hint of foul play. Spoken words were picked apart letter by letter for ulterior meanings. His once soothing touch now resulted in goosebumps that had nothing to do with the dampness of your gusset. 

You couldn’t deny the validity of some of their claims, the growing unease at the way he treated you. The curiousness of how he hinted to you about events that transpired that morning you hadn’t yet brought up. You hadn’t wanted to discover if that glint peeking out from behind the leaves of your fern on the top shelf of your bookcase was merely a trick of the light.

It was getting harder and harder to unblur the lines between devotion and obsession.

Friendly gatherings that used to be a time for unwinding and giggling over mimosas turned into laying out intricate battleplans for how best to escape him safely, keeping in mind his uncanny abilities as a soldier and the connections that came with it. 

It would have to be done while he was deployed, when he was stuck out in the field with no way to follow. Cash only, no debit. A new phone number. Renting out a secluded place under a fake name. The girls would put a duffle bag together for you that they would keep locked away in one of their closets. Most of your stuff would have to be left behind, only grabbing and smuggling out whatever you could easily carry in your purse. Your friends would all pitch in to provide the rest.

That’s how you found yourself standing in the threshold of the home you once enjoyed together, precious memories ghosting through rooms pulling at emotions you weren’t allowed to feel anymore. 

All that had to be in the past. Your future wasn’t his anymore.

After half a year of sharing your life with a man you had one day hoped you’d share a lifetime with, you sent him one last text of remorse for the unforeseen situation, wished him the best and begged for forgiveness with the closing line ‘don’t come looking’.

It killed you to lock the door behind you and walk away from it - from him - pathetically leaving your key under the mat and getting in the taxi parked out front which would take you to the first of many destinations. 

You hadn’t been involved in the planning aspect of this part, the girls taking care of all arrangements to keep anything from potentially popping up in your browsing history. They didn’t know what types of programs he had access to so high up in the military - the kinds of connections he’d made that would give him full access to every millimeter of your life. 

Were your electronics being hacked and monitored for suspicious activity? Was there a hidden tracking program running in the background on your phone? Cameras in your rooms invading your privacy?

There was an extreme amount of paranoia surrounding this whole endeavor. One false step and they could just be leading you right back into his awaiting and dangerous arms. 

Part of you wasn’t entirely sure if that was such a bad thing. Even now, sitting on a train bound for the middle of nowhere, you didn’t really want to leave him. 

It was a complex war between your head and your heart. For all his faults, Simon never made you feel inferior or worthless, a common complaint you had about past relationships filled with less than ideal treatment. He’d been supportive of your hobbies and dreams, not belittling of them. He didn’t blink at your weird quirks or have unexpected violent outbursts whenever you interrupted his private time. He took you out on dates and narrowed his eyes when you’d tried to bring your wallet with, taking exception to the notion of you paying before you explained you’d never not had to.

(‘just need a little fuckin’ to sort that habit right outta you’, he’d claimed afterwards with your knees pushed back to your ears and his girth pounding away at your insides)

But your friends said this was for the better. They had your best interests at heart, supporting you in your efforts to get as far away from London as you could to start anew, someplace far out in the open countryside where you had no family or connections to link back to you. 

Two switched train lines, a crowded bus, and another cab ride later, you were finally holed up with your scarce belongings in a room half the size of your old apartment with three other roommates you didn’t know. It hadn’t taken long to unpack all your belongings, counting the money stashed away in a hidden envelope to see how much you had to get by with until you found yourself a proper job out here. 

But hunting for that would start tomorrow. Tonight, you just wanted to sleep off the exhaustion after a full day’s worth of travel.

You ignored the overwhelming sense of loneliness curled up on a thin creaky mattress under a scratchy worn quilt, checking your new phone at the end of the night to read the various well wishes and best of luck’s from your friends, texting the group chat to let them know you’d made it safe and sound and would update them tomorrow morning. Just as you went to turn your phone off for the night, you noticed an unread message from an unknown number waiting in your inbox - odd, considering the girls had been the ones who bought it for you and put in all their contact info ahead of time. They should’ve been the only ones with access to this number. 

‘Must just be spam’, you rationalized to yourself, moving your thumb to swipe it into trash… but hesitating. You didn’t know why you felt the need to click on it instead, a gnawing dread in your gut speaking against the denial in your brain. 

You opened it.

The world came to a halt, stomach roiling with nausea as you whimpered in alarm, the hand holding your phone trembling as you read it over and over again, committing the words to memory. You shoved the phone under your pillow as if putting it out of sight would solve all your problems, yanking the covers up over your head and squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Sleep didn't come easy to you that night or any of the ones following - not as you were continuously haunted by the lingering shadow of the impossible message left for you by your now ex boyfriend.

‘I’ll see you in a month.’

What you thought was perfect at first glance was in fact dappled and moth ridden with substantial holes. What's more, you knew he knew it too.

The following month was spent in a state of constant terror, insecurity laced through your nervous system like a shot of fentanyl in your veins. Even from so far a distance Simon toyed with your fragile mind. Wanted you to fester in unknown anticipation, a stillness in the air that felt more like the deep breath before the plunge, the prelude to an eventual inevitability heralded by those six little words.

It invaded every aspect of your daily routine. Too paranoid of the foreboding message, you tried to leave your new abode as infrequently as possible, burning through your savings on first month's rent and utilities, the small percentage that went towards paying for groceries. Incorrectly assuming you’d have acquired new employment by now to cover your remaining expenses, you closed out the tabs for the job websites with a huff of anguished frustration, rough fingers combing through frazzled hair and faltering in the act of actually searching. 

If you succeeded in landing a job then you'd have to subject yourself to a series of background checks, anonymity tossed out the window the moment you were added to an identifiable government database ripe for the picking. With that startling realization, everything you and the girls spent weeks trying your best to account for suddenly unravelled into a jumbled disaster of good intentions, second guessing your decisions made like a paltry amateur playing chess against a grandmaster. 

Did you really think you could build a new identity in such a short amount of time, hiding in plain sight in a world under constant surveillance without the aid of black market assistance? Sooner or later you’d find yourself in a situation where you’d be forced to interact with society in a way that would put you on the radar and then what would you do? Hell, you couldn't avoid using a bank account or making online purchases forever, not in an age where technology was woven into the very fabric of our lives and required for just about everything. 

You hadn't even made friends with the people you shared the modest sized dwellings with - so at odds with your naturally extroverted personality - for fear of showing up on someone’s social media page and making it even easier to be located. It drove you to isolationism, standing on the sidelines as you watched helplessly from behind an invisible wall as you slowly transformed into an anxiety ridden shell of the carefree spirit you'd been once upon a time. 

As the days dragged onward, you grew more and more skittish, crossing off days on the calendar as if they were X's on a prison cell.

There had been no more messages, an ominous sign in and of itself. You knew Simon, knew what he could become - what he became after he walked in the door still dressed to kill from weeks spent bathing in gore, the remnants of decay wrapping around the edges and bleeding through the stark shell of his mask. He never turned that creature on you, but you could see it sometimes when he thought he'd tucked it away on a carefully controlled leash. Waiting for the next satisfying hunt.

That's what you were now. Prey. A fun little game for him to sink his teeth into, blissfully unaware of the impending danger until bloodied fangs shredded flesh and feasted away at your squishy entrails.

You’d wrongly assumed you were the type of clever rabbit to be tracked through thick mud and dense underbrush, something squirrelly and quick-witted who could easily outsmart the overestimating wolf’s salivating maw… 

When in reality, you’d only ever been the kind of quarry he could just simply waltz out back and drag from her comfy caged-in bunny burrow of false security.

You didn't fight him when he showed up a month later as promised, bag already packed and a letter sitting on the kitchen island for your roommates explaining the sudden departure, taking up nervous vigilance on the front porch steps leading to the house like an obedient dog waiting for its master. You didn’t try to make a last ditch effort to escape as the familiar SUV turned the corner of your street to where he knew you’d been hiding all along.

Simon didn’t say anything as he pulled up to the curb and stepped out of the imposing black vehicle, the very picture of casual arrogance as he walked around the car and strolled up the pavement as if his name was written on the deed. Immediately shooting to your feet and slinging your duffle over your shoulder, you met him halfway down the drive so as not to upset him further, the unrelenting weight of his gravity drawing you back into his marrow and shackling you to his heart.

You shouldn't have felt instant relief to be once again shadowed in his towering presence; gone misty eyed when for the first time in weeks you'd craned your neck up to gaze upon those pooling brown irises leering down at you with a stone eyed look of condescension. The scarred hand on your cheek felt mocking, the soft cooing at your pitiful whimpers and quivering lower lip sending you back into the welcoming headspace that - despite the warning bells going off inside your mind - had missed the serenity that came with his unbridled toxic love.

One could only guess at the harsh punishments he'd enact for this, the further restrictions he'd place on your freedom, the biting sting of his belt tanning your backside with mottled discoloration.

But he was here now. Things would be alright again. He'd retake the mantle of caring for your person and make things easy for your simple addled brain.

Just a dumb little bunny who realized a little too late that she’d never actually left the wolf's den in the first place.

The warm tantalizing scent of savory Italian cuisine wafted out through the doorway that led to the kitchen beyond, mouthwatering and succulent as it floated to where you sat curled up on the couch, absentmindedly itching at the still inflamed skin at the nape of your neck. Simon would have to put more lotion on the site later after dinner, not wanting to reopen the recently healed over scab. 

“Tracker botherin’ you?” he asked as he rounded the corner from the kitchen into the living room with two plates in hand, perking up at his presence and smiling as he placed one in front of you on the coffee table. The Stanley Cup Playoffs were tonight and he was allowing you to watch it with him after a string of good behavior. Even went out and bought you your favorite team’s jersey for the occasion.

You eagerly dug into the homemade pasta dish, moaning at the taste of cheesy alfredo on your tongue and speaking through a mouthful of buttery garlic bread hidden behind your palm. “A little. Can I keep the collar off, just for tonight?”

He hummed in consideration as he took up his spot on the couch next to you, tugging you to his side possessively and brushing your hair out of the way to examine the irritated flesh. He’d neglected to put your collar back on after your shower earlier, a little treat for the game tonight. “Keep bein’ good f’me and we’ll see.”

You beamed up at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek once you’d swallowed your food. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy wearing the item in question - you quite liked the one he picked out for you after bringing you back home a few weeks prior, the way it sparkled in the light and the meaning of ‘his’ ingrained in every stitch. It would just be easier to get to sleep without the soft lining on the inside rubbing up against and chaffing the still healing skin.

But Simon knew best. If the collar came back on then you would wear it happily without a squeak of complaint. 

After all, everything was perfect now that you were back where you belonged.

[morgana-lefay]

Project: Rammstein Barcelona 2024 - The Review

It's been more than two weeks now and coming back to the real World hasn't been easy, so I'm only now managing to write about the concert.

I'm still very much living in my concert-bubble (ignoring many responsibilities, forgetting I'm a grown-up and such), but I'm not sure I can still remember everything, unfortunately. I will try my best. Heads up, as this will be extensive, detailed (as much as my memory can help me), not spolier-free, might contain off-topics about the city and, most of all, will be MY opinion and feelings about it all.

So let's start.

As some of you might know/have noticed, I traveled from Portugal to Barcelona, the day before the concert. It was the first time, in my 40 years alive in this World, I ever saw a band outside my country and it was also my first time visiting Barcelona, so I was very excited about it all! I was also ready to travel solo, but two friends ended up joining me. I did go to the concert by myself, though.

I arrived in Barcelona on Monday, early in the morning, which allowed me to compensate for concert day, since it would be pretty much dedicated to it, aside from breakfast and lunch. A friend and I decided to walk around "El Gòtic" (Gothic Quarter). A few cañas later, we needed to pee, so we decided to start looking for cool cafes to stop and have more cañas so we could use the bathroom (made sense to us). We found a lovely Plaza by accident, with a cafe in the middle and that was it.

We ordered two cañas, talked about some serious stuff, some more silly, about the concert and the band and how do people find them in the street and how I wouldn't know what to do if I saw any of them. Time passed and we decided to leave, but first, my time to go to the bathroom. Coming back, something got lost in translation and the guy brought us two more beers.

THANKFULLY, as a few moments later, this guy with dark sunglasses comes riding a bike from one of the streets that led to the Plaza. I was siting facing said street and started panicking in Portuguese "Oh meu Deus, oh meu Deus!". My friend had no idea what was going on, until I managed to say "IT'S THE DRUMMER!". At that point, he was already at the end of the street and I thought he'd left, when I realised he turned around. My friend, to whom I will be grateful forever, got up and stopped him. I did nothing. Just stayed sited, like an idiot. She says he asked her if she wanted a photo and she answered no, because she wasn't a fan (the poor guy), but her friend, pointing at me, was.

Something clicked inside my dumb brain, I got up from my chair and moved towards him. I don't really remember what I said, aside from "Hi, Christoph", "I came from Portugal to see you", apologising for bothering him and wishing him a nice day, if I touched him even (my friend says I touched his shoulder, which I tend to do sometimes, talking to people) nor what he said, or if he even said anything! His face was one of someone so used to these things and almost kinda bored, but at the same time he had a nice and sweet energy about him (not sure if this makes sense). Anyway...it was surreal! I was nervous as hell and I think if I was by myself I wouldn't have approached him. But he is as beautiful in person, as in all photos and videos! (and so tall!). That out of the blue encounter made my day! (I won't share the photo because I don't wanna show my stupid panic ridden face and I don't want the photo to end up everywhere else).

Concert day:

I queued for about 4h30m, until doors opened a bit after 18h00 and it started raining pretty much the moment I got there and pouring like 30 minutes in and it never stopped up to the point I got home, 12 hours later (my friends where ever so kind to make this video 😅) .

There, I met this lovely Spanish girl from Canárias, a group from LIFAD Colombia and Lina, the creator of LIFAD International. All lovely people. I never spoke so much Spanish in my life. I didn't even knew I knew how to speak so much Spanish, although I must have some fucked up accent (I never formaly learned the language), as they pretty much never got what I meant at first try 😂.

I managed to get front row (at some point I didn't think I was gonna make it), on Paul's side and I don't think I've ever seen such a colourful audience in a Metal/Rock concert. I also had never been in a venue with umbrellas.

Last photo is from last year, here in Portugal. I was standing in the back of the Stadium, which allowed me a privileged perspective over the beauty of the light, fire and music synchrony and I guess that made me love it all even more. This time, I couldn't see that part so well, but I could see them and their interactions, so I guess both concerts completed each other. I was also prepared for fiery hot, but, honestly, with all the rain, I barely felt the pyro.

They opened with "Ramm4", as we all know by now. Honestly, I had heard that song like 3 times before and it's not much my cup of tea (catchy chorus and rhythm, but I'm not that crazy about it as many seem to be). It was fun to sing along the "Ya, Nein! Rammstein!" part though, but it's no match to "Armee der Tristen" or "Rammlied" as an opener. Would have loved to hear the first one!

I felt Till's appearance on stage wasn't as powerful (although the explosion that revealed him was pretty cool), but his outfit is amazing! LOVE the feathers! I did enjoy the message at the beginning, the song and all of them appearing in the elevator together. To be fair, It might be that it's just different and we (I) were used to the old one.

[second one became my phone's background image]

Me being me, I managed to, by one frame, not catch on video the part where Richard kicks the 🎹🤦‍♀️. But, honestly, aside from the interesting leg movement, it wasn't all that, as it just comes out of nowhere. But then again, we had completely drenched Richard™, so that was just a small drop of water in an ocean of wet awesomeness.

The first half (if I can call it that) of the concert, up until the Deutschland remix, was rocking like a motherfucker! "Keine Lust" sounds great live. It was, actually, one of my favourites. A great surprise! And Richard's energy made it even better.

I always thought I was gonna cry my eyes out during "Asche Zu Asche", as it's one of my favourite songs, but, the tears came during "Zeit"...That song had been hitting me in the guts for the last few months, but I honestly did not see that coming. It was just overwhelmingly beautiful! Till's voice...my Goodness...When he sang the "Ein jeder kennt den perfekten Moment" part, he added "es aquí!"/"aquí contigo" (it's here/here with you), which may or may not made me cry a bit more.

Still about "Asche Zu Asche"...as expected, every one of them has a different energy during that song, but it's still a very powerful one! I rocked my ass off to it and I'm very grateful to have been able to experience it live. Too bad there where no microphones on fire, though. 🙁

"Wiener Blut" sounded great live too! As haunting as I imagined. Till's voice, again...And all of them, honestly, sounded beautiful. These additions to the setlist are just perfect.

Paul was going all Metal on us in some backing vocals, I think during "Links" the most. And Till seemed pretty content with the rain, while adding some Spanish words/expressions to the songs or in between.

Richard's growling during "Du Riechst so Gut" sent me...⚰️I don't think I've recovered from that part yet. Everytime I rewatch the videos, there's shivers. And then there's the little synchronized headbangs between Paul and Till and with all of them. Even though Till seemed to struggle a bit during the one with Paul, particularly, it was so precious to watch up close! 😭Paul and RZK's arm pyro, unfortunately, didn't work. I also couldn't see Till with the arch pyro, as little Paul was standing in the way.

Till clearly used playback, at least in one song (can't quite remember on which one...maybe Wiener Blut...), which is something that always bothers me a bit, even loving him to death. It did not ruin the show for me in the slightest, of course, but I don't really appreciate it or get it.

(Also, my man, stop spitting so much! 🙈)

My greatest disappointment, though, was that the foam from the Pussy-canon didn't reach our side. 😭

Then there were all the little interactions they had going on. It's like Tumblr was turning real, right in front of my eyes! 😂Honestly, I thought a lot about you guys during the whole concert.

I also feel like I went through many phases: rocking my ass off and singing what I knew (and making up other parts 😅); standing still, being mesmerized, just taking it all in; crying during Zeit; laughing over their silliness and just thinking how these guys are so fucking good still after 30 years. 🖤

Other/specific favourite things:

Anything Till and Paul, to be honest, but mostly during Mein Teil and Ausländer (my heart almost melted in this last part, with Till caressing his Paule's face 🥹);

Olli having fun and throwing water at Paul;

The boats and how Schneider seems so happy during it. I focused on him so much, almost forgot there where two more boats coming.

Paul being his little clown self pretty much all the time 🙈;

Flake's little dances and his crown! So pretty!

Schneider setting the rhythm with his arm movements;

The Mein Teil background dancers;

Till's "peacock flames" moment during "Rammstein" is absolutely breathtaking to watch up close! 🥹

Till's rolled up sleeves and his tattoos peaking are also a beautiful sight to see in person. 🖤

Just watching Till in general...Even if I wish he was a bit more serious/stoic sometimes and not so clowny, I love that guy. I can't even put it right into words how it felt seeing him and hearing him.

But, to be honest, I think I have to say that my most favourite thing, even though he was opposite where I stood, was Richard being a badass rockstar! He rocked hard, even dripping wet (or probably even more because of). I liked how he still balances a bit of the more serious side with the silly one.

All in all, I would have appreciated a little less rain (it never stopped...), but I had a great time! There's nothing/no one like them! They're just beautiful to watch and it was incredible to get to see them so close. I'm still a bit overwhelmed and even though it was a different sentiment from last year's concert (my first and in my country), they made me very happy! Thank you, my boys!🖤

[theredkennedys]

my au my rules. this au is literally called Chucker Spiderverse AU in the archived discord thread so be warned oooOoOOoooOo . gay men OoooooOo

writing out the backstory that me and my friend Donut have been working on for the better part of a year, most of it was inspired by the new itsv movie that was released then. and because I don't plan on writing anything huge for this I'd like my brainstorming to have a wider audience.

All art posted is most likely @franklindonuts , aka Donut the cocreator of this shit,,,hey buddy😆 go show him some love pleeeease

you can see my art of this au here

this will 100% be somewhat incomprehensive but hey I'm just a fag having fun and I was born yesterday🧚‍♀️

**

Tucker is the spiderman in his universe with Church as his "guy in the chair". (Putting it out there that this Church is Alpha, which is significant later on.)

They both share an apartment, I don't think I ever specified why but probably for school reasons. They're both young adults, I want to say around 19-21, similar to their Blood Gulch years.

Tucker loves being spiderman. He loves helping people, being almost an idol for people- a lot of jokes were thrown around about that:

Imagine Tucker after he got his sword. He has a genuine purpose now and he's going to be good at it.

but goddd Tucker is Tucker and is stupid and reckless. being spiderman doesn't make him invincible but he loves to think otherwise. he pushes himself too far too often because he knows if he doesn't he wouldn't be able to sleep at night if someone got hurt when he was taking it "easy". Church knows this but he's still pissed off when Tucker comes back bloodied and bruised from a Villain of the Week that he shouldn't have taken on :/

(Donut art)

mental illness

It's literally just the Spiderman Effect. No one will Ever be able to understand what it's like to be spiderman but other spiders, regardless of how much you tell them or show them, they won't get it. and Church doesn't Get it. He's not stupid, he understands WiTh GrEaT PoWeR y'know but there's a mental toll that can't be communicated in a way that makes sense :/

regardless, Church hates it but he also hates how much he cares about Tucker. Cocreator said that he figured they were both close and willing to become A Thing but the time was never right, and Tucker was scared of liking a dude, etc. Normal stuff between these two. But they're insanely close, I'd like to think even moreso after Tucker's whole spiderman thing and the fact that Church also has to realize that Tucker is not invincible.

(despite them not being A Thing, Donut art of The Spiderman kiss and other gay shit)

Now this is the kicker of why I said to take note of the fact this is Alpha Church specifically.

Now I'm aware of the clowning on the whole "canon event" thing and some people's opinion on it (mostly that it's dumb and cliche), but I find it a very unique and convenient way to give a character a significant plot boost.

That being said, Tucker's "canon event" is Church's death.

I don't ever think I solidified how/why he dies, moreso that it's just a wrong-place wrong-time type of thing. Some brainstorming from Donut about it:

but i never asked him for elaboration so I don't know what the fuck he's talking about. anyway

Tucker finds Church similar to how Miles found Peter in the first Spiderverse movie. He doesn't know what to do. He's frantic and scared and horrified that his best friend is coughing up blood with raspy breaths.

(Alpha s10 parallel with tex lalalala)

Obviously. Obbbviousllyy Tucker is distraught and inconsolable. Something something he has the Worst depression of his life. He doesn't know what to do with himself, the one person who knew about everything is gone, and I'm sorry (not) lol but it's not like in rvb where Church revives 8 times before dying like a normal person.

Church was always there for Tucker and he's at a loss of what to do now because, despite the threat of it, he should've never died. It wasn't even a concern in his head ever because it seemed so unlikely.

Tucker doesn't know what to do with himself, he wouldn't have gotten this far without Church. But really, it was All Tucker. All Church did was give him little tech bits to help him function better but it was All Tucker. But he isn't able to realize that through everything and it ruins him.

I will have to make a continuation post because I love adding images and Just hit the mobile limit🧚‍♀️

thanks for reading if you got this far

[dark1k]

connor: i accidentally forget to go into stasis for weeks at a time, sometimes i think i'm stupid

markus: don't worry, i do that all the time

connor: forget to go into stasis?

markus: think you're stupid

[crownedwille]

I've come to the conclusion that loving young royals doesn't mean I can't be critical about it, maybe especially bc I love the show so much I have such strong feelings about it, good and bad and I can love parts of canon and agree with it and appreciate it but I don't have to love it all. I have accepted that it's okay if I don't accept the ending and I don't have to force myself to support it. It's okay to not agree with all of canon and it's okay to not side with all of the creators' intentions/views. Loving a show doesn't mean you have to take everything the writers say on face value and that's the only version that is allowed to exist. Canon isn't everything and fandom is about curating your own experience that makes you happy and not miserable. You don't have to dismiss canon in every aspect and ignore it entirely, that's certainly not what I want but there is a fine line between being canon respectful, allowing some parts to exist and sometimes, yes, you just have to say "fuck canon" and move on for your own sanity and wellbeing

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Points at you. 10 and/or 11 for starstruck?

Two starstruck asks,,,,,,joy of joys,,

Part of an ask game linked here.

#10. What's an au you have for them?

Since them meeting at all is technically an AU i have 3 different ways that they do meet up. There's the one where Juniper ends up with the agency/adjacent to and ends up working with Reggie (have written a fic with this). The next one is Juniper surviving but basically going stealth and living as normal of a life as he can and ending up meeting Reggie through chance (most recent fic I've written). And then there's my personal favourite where Reginald "You're lucky my tracking skills are still up to snuff" Crane keeping himself busy after Phoenix was MIA and finding Juniper still alive (fic I want to write but haven't started mainly because it may end up multi chapter).

In terms of more AU canon bending taking them and putting them in a completely unrelated situation...I have a guilty pleasure Warrior Cats AU for IEYTD in general. Both JJ and Reggie have perfect warrior cats suffixes in their names already (Juniper and Crane) so they're called Junipersong (charcoal bengal) and Craneflight (tabby Norwegian forest cat). It's very silly but the amount of scenes I have in my mind for it...good lord...

#11. How was their first kiss like?

Augh my friend Imp wrote an absolutely excellent fic about it (tragically in the realm of unfinished Google docs) and I'm shaking their hand about it so hard. Basically Juniper kissing Reggie but he like wasn't ready/fully expecting it and Juniper absolutely panicking because he thinks he's misread every interaction between them both since they got closer. The second one is much sweeter though,,

[petrichorium]

The fav I have the most frequent (and most intense) fights with is actually jing yuan btw

[hella1975]

loveeeeeeee when my one very spoilt flatmate says some shit about how she treats her mum/how she talks to her mum and me and my other flatmate just look at each other for a silent moment and both just go 'no id be dead'

[autisticcassandracain]

is it just me or is batman like. significantly more tolerable outside of gotham comics than in

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

Ok so life update I fly back for break Friday and I’ve got 3 total assignments left 2 of them being finals and I don’t get to come back until the 5th🫠

[r3dblccd]

Mr. & Mrs. Smith kind of plot with Yongsun or Hwayoung and who???

[neverendingford]

.

[springtyme]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖! 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ♡

Simon catching baby fever, but you’re only roommates...

141 masterlist (there'll be a part two of this)

Before you, the only time Simon really left his flat when he was home on leave was to go to the gym or to go get groceries. 

He was content with this routine, he found comfort in the familiarity of it, and enjoyed the peace and quiet of his own space. Or at least that is what he told himself. This way of life had been sufficient for him for a long time, but as time went on he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. 

That is when Simon found himself considering the idea of getting a flatmate. He thought about it for a while, weighing the pros and cons in his mind. On one hand, he enjoyed his independence and privacy. On the other hand, having someone else around the flat could be a good thing, and he does have an extra bedroom in the flat that’s just collecting dust. Maybe it would be a good idea… Maybe.

After much contemplation, Simon finally decided to take the plunge and start looking. He posted an ad online, and waited for responses to come in. To his surprise, he received a good handful, he had actually not anticipated that that many, if any, would be interested in sharing his space. It is a little overwhelming, and as he goes through the applications he starts to doubt whether he had made the right decision. 

What if he didn’t get along with any of them? What if they were messy or loud or just generally annoying? It was a dumb idea to begin with, he thought to himself, but then as he looked through the last application, something caught his eye.You. 

You seemed responsible, tidy, and overall like someone he could get along with. But there was something more about you that intrigued him. Maybe it was the way you wrote about your love for cooking and how you were looking for a quiet and peaceful place to call home. Or maybe it was the photo you attached to your application, a warm smile on your face that made Simon feel at ease. 

Maybe this could work out after all. 

And work out it did, maybe a little too well. It has now been a little over a year since you moved in, and despite Simon being gone on deployment more often than not the two of you have become very close. You cook meals together. You watch movies on lazy nights, where you will sometimes fall asleep on the couch, your lashes kissing your cheek as the soft glow of the tv illuminates your face, and Simon can’t help but feel a warmth in his heart as he tucks the fluffy blanket, that you had brought with you when you moved in, over your sleeping form.

After you moved in, his flat feels more like a home than it ever had before. It’s like you were always meant to be there, filling up the empty space in his life that he didn’t even realise was there. 

There is something so oddly domestic about all the small things you do together – sharing a cup of tea in the evenings as you talk about your day, or even playfully arguing over who gets to do the dishes that night, even though he secretly never actually minds doing them. 

Pushing the trolley down the aisles of the supermarket as the two of you do the big shop together on Sundays are one of his favourites, though. Because he knows what it looks like from the outside – just a couple doing their weekly grocery shopping. The only thing that would make the scene even more picturesque would be with a little baby in the trolley, a perfect blend of the two of you, giggling and reaching out to try and grab for the items on the shelves as you both laugh and try to keep them entertained.

These thoughts will sometimes sneak into Simon’s mind, and he will quickly shake them away, reminding himself that it is just his imagination running wild. He can’t think like that, it isn’t fair to you or to himself. But still, the idea lingers in the back of his mind, growing stronger with each passing day.

It has started to get harder and harder to ignore these thoughts, these feelings. He tries to push them away, to bury them deep down, but they keep resurfacing. He never really expected to feel this way about you, about anyone, really. But now that he has you in his life, so close yet so far from what he actually wants to be he can’t help but dream about a different life, to have a family, a future, a life outside of the military and his flat.

Suddenly, Simon starts to notice more and more babies around him. Whether it’s at the park when he is on his runs, in Tesco, or even on TV, they seem to be everywhere. And each time he sees a baby, his heart aches with longing. It doesn’t help that your neighbours just had a baby, and he has to watch you coo over the little boy every chance you get. It is like a knife twisting in his chest, knowing that he will never have that with you.

It has always been a secret desire of his, a wish he knew he would never be worthy of having fulfilled. And yet, it linger in the depths of his heart, elusive and shimmering like a mirage in the desert. The dream of someday having a family of his own, of doing things right, of breaking the cycle he had grown up in. After meeting you, his dreams became more vivid, more concrete. 

He has fallen in love with you, and that scares the living daylights out of him. He never thought he would be in this situation, especially after all the sick shit he has been through. But here you are, filling up the empty space in his heart, making him yearn for a life he never thought he could have.

But Simon is good at keeping his emotions in check, so he continues to play his part, to act like everything is okay, like he doesn’t feel this overwhelming love for you that threatens to consume him. 

But late at night, Simon lies awake in bed, when he is sure you’re sleeping and he is staring at the ceiling, his heart feels heavy with the weight of his unspoken feelings. 

And when he tries to decompress, by fisting his aching cock in his hand, guilty thoughts of you will flood his mind, making him ache with longing. 

He knows it’s wrong, he knows he shouldn’t be thinking of you in that way. But the images of you, of your smile, of your laughter, of your kindness, they linger in his mind, fueling his desires. The way you smile and laugh and light up his life in ways he never thought possible, it fuels a fire within him so all consuming, so intense, that he can’t help but give in to it, even if just in the confines of his own mind.

And as he strokes himself, he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have you in his bed, to feel your touch, to hear your moans of pleasure. He imagines what it would be like to hold you close, to feel your warmth against his skin, to hear you whisper words of love and affection in his ear. To have you beg for him to fill your womb and mark himself as yours. He would love it – to pump you so full with his cum, for it to take root, to see your body change with his child, to create a life with you, to have a family of his own. 

He will have to bite down on his own hand to stifle his groans and to stop himself from moaning your name out loud. It’s a dangerous game he plays in the silence of the night, as he knows that these feelings, these desires, can never be acted upon. But still, he can’t help but indulge in these fantasies, in these dreams of a life that he may never have.

And as he lies in his bed after, spent and worn, a sense of guilt wash over him. He knows that it’s wrong to have these thoughts about you. But he can’t help it, he can’t control it, and as he lies in the darkness of his bedroom, he can’t help but feel the sting of longing in his chest, knowing that you lie in your own bed just down the hall, so close yet so far away.