#though if you asked me I'd love to ramble about it

[thatguyjam]

Highschool Sweethearts - Oscar Piastri

Valentines event Masterlist <3

Oscar Piastri x Male!Artistic!Reader

A/N: Reader is also kinda autistic coded lowkey

You first learned who Oscar Piastri was when he started to go to your Boarding school, and something about the cute aussie quiet boy who disappeared every few weekends couldn't help but intrigue you. Not enough to talk to him though. He was barely in classes anyway. Just to your luck though, the two of you were paired up for an English project, in which he was absolutely useless. Succumbing to his puppy dog eyes, you ended up doing most of the work while he laid all pretty on your bed, trying desperately to make conversation. "So Y/N, do you draw a lot? "Um, yeah. I'm in a lot of art classes" An awkward silence quickly fell over your dorm yet again before, "Don't you think it's stupid that so many English assignments require so much drawing? Like it's not fair for us untalented folk" "Well I mean I'm not apart of the untalented folk so..." "Yeah. Your drawings are as pretty as your face, it's impressive." Your pencil pausing over the poster, your face can't help but screw up, confused "Is that... a compliment?" "I- yeah? You're really pretty, and you're a really good artist, I, well, I dodn't want to make you uncomfortable, I think you're really pretty and I've liked you from a far for a while so I got really exited when we got assigned together and-" "-Oscar! You're rambling" "Right, sorry. I can go do the project on my own if you don't want to-" You made sure to stop Oscar's anxieties there as you smashed your lips to his, pencil and paper falling to the floor and teeth crashing together, before you quickly pulled away, with panic filling you quickly "I'm sorry, I should have asked to do that, I-" "Ok now you're rambling, you don't need to worry pretty boy. You're the most stunning person I've every seen, you can always kiss me. I'd love to kiss you again" Needless to say, the project was a couple days late. The two of you couldn't exactly focus when there where video games to be played and kisses to be given

banner credit @enchanthings-a

taglist: (comment or dm to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl

[anipgarden]

Adding To or Starting a Garden

AKA, the beginning of the Plants-Related section of this series.

This is my third post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps! 

Got an area of lawn you’d like to convert to a wildlife haven? An area you can stick some hanging baskets in? Want to know how your garden of tomatoes and zucchinis is already putting in a lot of work? This is the section for you!

It would be dumb of me to not acknowledge that the act of gardening can come with a lot of costs. Buying seeds, buying plants, buying soil, raised bed materials, mulch, etc. … it can all get a bit daunting, let’s be honest! But there’s quite a few ways to get seeds and plants for free or extremely cheap, which I’ll be addressing in this section! The next section will be all about addressing the other Costs in gardening and how to mitigate or eliminate them entirely.

Also, do keep in mind; there’s no need to try and convert a whole area from lawn to garden or unused to garden at once. In fact, it could actually be extremely beneficial to do it a little at a time--maybe four or five square feet to start out.

Front Lawn (or Managing Principles)

If you live in a place where you’re required to have a grass turf lawn (HOA’s come to mind…), try replacing it with native grasses instead! You could even possibly use a low-growing ground cover plant like clover to a similar effect! Reseeding/replacing an entire lawn can be a big upfront cost, but even just letting the lawn be a little messy and tall helps. If the lawn gets patchy, leave the bare spots for a little while and something different will likely pop up! Pioneer species will fill the gaps and provide benefits to other plants around them, support animals, and more! If you want to take the guesswork out of it, you could always research what the pioneer species are in your area and plant the ones you like most. 

Obtaining Seeds for Cheap or Free

The cheapest way to start a garden is by far via seeds. However, seeds can be a bit complicated to grow, and some sources make them… way overpriced. Fortunately there are ways to get seeds for little to no cost! 

Some places sell seeds for as low as a dollar, 50 cents, or 25 cents! The packets may not have a lot of seeds, but it’s definitely a good start for a low budget! I’ve personally bought cheap seed packets at Walmart--the Ferry-Morse and Burpee brands are not what we’re looking for here. Typically the cheaper ones I’ve found are American Seed (which is owned by Green Garden Products, which also owns Ferry-Morse, Livingston Seed, McKenzie Seed, and Seeds of Change. Do with that information what you will), but they’re rarely stocked near the Ferry-Morse ones in the Formal Gardening Section. I’ve most often found them on end caps near the gardening section, so you may have to weave through a few aisles to find them, but once you do there’s an array of flower and vegetable seeds to select from! Alternatively, I’ve found seeds at Dollar Tree sold 2 or 4 for a dollar in Spring as part of their seasonal product; however, when they’re out of stock, they’re typically out of stock for the year. Try to check them out early in the year!

Otherwise, other seed companies like Urban Farmer or Botanical Interests will often have semi-frequent sales in spring and fall, when people are stocking up on seeds--joining their email lists can help you be the first to know when a good sale is going on!

Some foods from grocery stores will provide seeds that you can use in the garden as well. I’ve had the most luck with store-bought bagged beans, peppers, and tomatoes. Some people have had luck with watermelons, apples, citrus, squash, and more. Do keep in mind that you likely won’t get the same variety of fruit/vegetable as the one you bought--the resulting plant may look different and taste different.

Give it a shot! Pick some beans you like--if they don't grow well, at least you can eat the rest!

If you live in the US, food-producing live plants, bare roots, and seeds can often be purchased with SNAP benefits. But what does growing fruits, veggies, and herbs have to do with boosting biodiversity? While food crops aren’t typically native, they still provide valuable shelter for native insects. Some plants even have intricate relationships with native fauna--like the squash bee, a solitary bee which exclusively pollinates cucurbits like pumpkins, squash, and zucchini. And we get to benefit more directly as well! If you’re planting a diverse range of foods in your garden (as opposed to the swaths of single-plant farms that typically produce what’s sent to grocery stores), you’re supporting high levels of biodiversity by providing a variety of plants for creatures to live and hunt around.

Most of the time, when we think of boosting biodiversity with a garden, we think of a colorful flower garden teeming with pollinator species. However, if we’re striving to use native species, it can be a bit difficult to find some species in stores. I can say from experience that trying to find any wildflower seeds other than butterfly weed, purple coneflowers, and black-eyed-susans is… challenging, if you limit yourself to stores like Walmart, Home Depot, and Lowe’s. You might occasionally get lucky with an ACE Hardware or a local nursery, but even then sometimes it can be hard to track down who in your area is selling what--let alone if you live in an area where no one really is selling native plants or their seeds. Not to mention, even once you find a local or online store selling the seeds you want, they can sometimes cost a pretty penny. So what do you do?

If you have the option to, consider gathering native seeds yourself! Get good at identifying the native flora and fauna--or at least, a few target plants and their lookalikes--and get ready to go! Learn where they tend to grow, when they’ll be seeding, etc. Try to identify the plant before it goes to seed (for most plants, it's easiest to identify when flowering), then check back regularly to gather seeds. Typically, if I want to learn how to collect seed from a specific plant, I just search it on Google or YouTube--oftentimes, I'm lead to the GrowItBuildIt Youtube page, so it may be a helpful resource for you as well! Of course, make sure to leave plenty of seed behind so the wild population can repopulate, and seed can feed other creatures in the area. A good rule of thumb is to take no more than 1/3rd of what's available.

Buying seed in bulk is an option if you can afford the upfront cost. Try teaming up with a few friends to buy some bulk seeds and split them amongst yourselves--you’ll get tons of seed! Prairie Moon is a popular site that'll sell seeds by the pound if you can afford the price--though they're in the US, and I believe they focus on Midwest and East Coast natives.

If you want to cheat the system, don’t buy bulk sunflower seeds--buy bags of sunflower seeds being sold as birdseed. They’re typically all black oil sunflower seeds, but they’ll sprout, and they’re fairly cheap for the amount you get!

However, beware generic wildflower seed mixes! Many brands like to sell wildflower seed mixes in big box stores like Home Depot, Target, or even Dollar Tree, but they’ll often include flowers that aren’t native or possibly even invasive in your region! Before you make any purchases, double check to make sure the contained seeds won’t do more harm than good! A quality source of native seeds will provide English and Latin names for all seeds included, and will be native to the region or at least non-invasive. 

See this? I don't trust this.

There’s a good handful of programs online that’ll send you free seeds if you’re planning to start a native habitat project! Poke around online and see what you can find; you might get lucky! The best time to start looking for these is fall and winter, I find--by early spring, many of them are either done or beginning to wind down... though some also start up in spring. Ultimately--just check regularly! You never know what you can find!

Other Ways to Get Plants

Don’t want to start from seed? That’s fair! You can try cuttings! Just be sure not to take too much of the plant while you do so. Make sure you’ve gotten a few leaf nodes on your cutting, and cut any flowers you may have gotten. Make sure to leave some blooms and foliage on the original plant for the creatures in the current habitat--you don’t want to destroy one habitat to make another in your garden. There’s tons of methods of rooting cuttings, many of which have different efficacy rates for different plants, but that’s a topic for another post.

If you find seedlings growing in a place where they won’t be able to sustain themselves long-term, or are in danger of being destroyed, consider relocating them! You may be able to gently dig up and transplant the seedling to your garden. Don’t do this if they’re in a place where they can easily survive--ideally, you’ll be taking plants from sidewalk cracks, heavily maintained public gardens, roadsides, etc. Do be careful while doing this--ensure your safety first!  

You’re totally allowed to join gardening communities like clubs, facebook groups, and more before you’ve even put a trowel to the dirt. These are great places to learn information and advice! Many gardeners are more than happy to help out a new gardener, and will eagerly provide seeds, cuttings, or even baby plants! Talk to some people about your gardening journey and what you’re hoping to do, and you just might find some kindred spirits--or at least get more people interested in the topic! 

Seed and plant giveaways and trades happen all the time in gardening clubs, as well as online! Just poke around and see what you can find! Some are explicitly trades, meaning you’re expected to send something in return, but once you get your feet on the ground with some plant knowledge you’ll be stellar! You may be able to explain you’re just starting out, and someone may send you seeds without expecting a trade, but I’d suggest trying giveaways first. 

Poke around online and see if there’s a local chapter of your state’s native plant society. From there, you’ll likely be able to find a calendar of events--many of them will host plant sales in the spring, with a bunch of native plant seedlings ripe for the pickings if you can make it out and have some money to spare! Fair warning, though, you’ll want to get there early if you can. If they say they’re starting at 10, try to get there by 9:45. Year after year, there’s always record turnout, and they sell out of plants faster than ever. Just trust me on this. I’ve been let down; hopefully you won’t have to be.

Some libraries are beginning to host seed libraries! Check around and see if your library has one! Ideally, the system works best if you also have seeds to contribute in return, but if you’re just starting out I’m sure they won’t mind you taking some seeds! Just consider saving some seeds to contribute in the future and pay it forward. If your library doesn’t have a seed library? Consider asking if they’d be willing to start one! Community interest is a great way to get the ball rolling on projects like these, but they’ll only know the community is interested if the community tells them they’re interested!

Volunteer to Garden for/with Someone Else

Maybe someone in your area wants to garden, but is struggling to find the time/energy. Many elderly people who used to garden simply can’t anymore but still would like a garden. Other people may love to have a helping hand in their garden. You might even find a few people in your area interested in renting and sharing a community garden plot with others, so they don't have to handle it all on their own! They may be interested in increasing biodiversity right now, or may be willing to if it’s brought up to them. You might be just the kind of person someone needs! Since it won't be your garden, you’ll likely need a bit of permission and collaboration to get anything in particular going, but it’s worth a shot and a way to maybe even make friends! 

Again, your mileage may vary with some of these. You may not know where there's a bunch of wildflowers growing in your area, or maybe your local library doesn't have a free seed library. That's okay! Do what you're able to, find what you can find, get what you can get! And there's never any shame with starting small--in fact, starting small can make the project easier to manage and expand when you're able!

That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about ways to start growing plants cheaply--low cost seed starting set ups, essentially. There's a lot of good options, many of which I've used myself even! Until then, I hope this advice is helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

[unma]

My theory is that you've had (or currently have) a big thing for roleplaying, perhaps directly related to your aptitudes as a writer.

I feel like someone just sniped me through a buncha buildings and windows and still hit a head shot. How could you tell? I haven't actively roleplayed in at least a couple of years—not because I don't want to, tbh, I would if I could actually get back into it again—so I'm surprised anyone could tell. I still have a bunch of my proudest rp posts saved (it was mostly crp), and I was into it for at least 3 years or so.

It's definitely related to my aptitude as a writer though. Having to respond so often to some of the most detailed crp posts where you would and often did get technicality'd into oblivion (and would do the same back) definitely made me care a lot about the details, and I'm not gonna lie I do still draw on that still when describing combat sometimes. Getting technicality'd into oblivion doesn't sound too fun, but I assure you it was (once you got used to it anyway), and that community was definitely my closest set of online friends for a good bit.

[aimer-arts]

I rly wish i could draw your characters but my hands have a physical aversion to drawing lines, what if i wrote you some sort of short story or something? It probably wouldnt be more than 1000 words since like, i have 18 million things going on, but like, if i were to, what should i know?

OHHHH MY GODDD?? I would absolutely LOVE that ;_; <3 <3

I'm assuming you'd want to make something about Team Fate (my explorers team)? In that case, I don't think there's a ton of information you need to know; all of their personality traits and quirks are implied in the art I've made of them, so I don't think you could go wrong!

here's a guide I quickly put together!! hopefully it's somewhat helpful

(more rambling below)

So basically, my pmd teams pretty much follow the canon personalities they have in the games: for example, Piper (eevee hero) has a very reserved and quiet personality just like the player character in the games, and doesn't speak or emote much - but she talks and laughs the most around her partner.

Clementine (vulpix partner) is pretty similar to the explorers partner; she's jittery and nervous, but loves to ramble about adventuring to Piper (who loves to listen). She scares easily, but feels stronger with Piper - so in a way, they basically complete each other. They balance out each other's weaknesses, and give each other strength.

[musicallisto]

i will be reading your fic when i finish catching up on dracula daily but while we're waiting!!!!

🥰😊🤭😇🤩😴🌞🧸🤠 (this one specifically for rdr, how did i never know you were also a john marston apologist, this changes everything) 🧠📜🎤🥂🚓😘💝👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💍💀

🥰 I love your blog 😊 I'm so glad I follow you 🤭 You make me laugh 😇 You're one of the kindest people on this site 🤩 I admire you 😴 You should sleep more 🌞 You brighten up the dash 🧸 Soft vibes 🤠 Yeehaw vibes 🧠 You're so big brained 📜 Your fics are top tier 🎤 You have an amazing voice 🥂 I would get drunk with you 🚓 I would lie to the police for you 😘 Kissing you on the forehead 💝 I love you (platonic) 💍 I would marry you if you asked 💀 I would help you hide a body

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ultimate ask game♡

[moonfurthetemmie]

i think I'll start posting stuff for the JMV fic in January

just a little bit of jmv for the new year <33

happy 2024! we're going to have jmv horror

[cptkitten]

Blue October - Hate Me

[cinnamonswirlsshadow]

I'm in love with this, actually

I have fallen into the swap au trap

Narrator got the fledgling gods mixed up. Putting Change in the role of the hero (making her 'The Adventurer'), and Stagnation in the role of princess ('The Royal'). And because none of the echoes have reason to believe anything is amiss, they still proceed with the script as usual, guiding the Adventurer into slaying the Royal to stop the end of the world.

some scattered thoughts copy-pasted from discord under the cut:

– Shifty still has Hero with her because he's the representation of choice here, and she's the one making choices in this AU, but that's the only voice she ever has besides Narrator. Quiet still get to be a stuffed clown car in person form, cuz she still can't really change herself

– the main gimmick is that Adventurer will slowly change as she makes choices and/or react to Quiet/Narry

for example, as soon as she decides to take the knife or not, she'll either become 'sharper' or 'softer' (smth Hero notices, and maybe even Echo describes)

and as this keeps happening, Echo may eventually realize who she actually is and freak out. Saying she's a monster, that she tricked him into putting her in the hero's shoes, etc etc etc

and it's usually in that moment that the Adventurer will fully transition into whatever identity will be predominant in Chapter 2

for example, I have this idea of Royal, seeing the Adventurer acting weird because of the Echo, and acting outta fear to stab her in the back and run away, and that's how we get Witch

– Hero being with Shifty here means he's more like her than like Quiet, so he also changes slightly to accommodate to her new personality

tho when Narry freaks out, he gets very confused and a bit caught up on the "Wait…… so– we're not a hero?" thing to help much

tries to make up for it in most chapter 2's by promising to make sure Narry doesn't pull anything like this again

[solxamber]

Read the male incubus reader and it was so good BEHEBEBENEJEJ your so talented omg

If you can do anything else similar to that again, just a very teasing reader that knows how to fluster literally anyone of the main boys I'd be on my hands and knees cause BSBSBSA it's so good.

May you rest well pookie cause you deserve it 💪

thank you!! and sorry for the extremely long wait </3

Housewardens x Tease! Reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle’s face turns the shade of his hair the moment your sly words slip from your lips. He tries to maintain composure, but his rigid posture betrays his inner turmoil.

“Y-you can’t just say things like that!” he stammers, voice wavering as he desperately adjusts his tie to buy time. You lean in slightly, resting your chin in your hand, eyes sparkling with mischievous glee.

“Oh? And what exactly did I say, Rosehearts? You’ll have to be specific. Otherwise, how will I know what to stop?”

Riddle sputters, gripping his teacup like it’s the last thing grounding him. “H-Have some decorum!”

You only laugh, knowing full well he’ll be replaying this moment for the rest of the week.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona scoffs when you start teasing, but the way his ears twitch betrays how much your words are getting to him.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he grumbles, trying to look annoyed.

“Clever? Oh, no. I’m just observant,” you reply, your tone dripping with mock innocence. “Like how your tail flicks every time I say your name like this—Leona.”

His eyes narrow, and he leans back with a growl. “You’ve got a death wish.”

“And you’ve got a cute blush,” you say with a grin.

Leona throws a pillow at you, grumbling about "annoying herbivores," but you can tell he doesn’t mean it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul prides himself on his ability to negotiate, but you’ve got him fumbling like a first-year.

“Careful, Ashengrotto,” you tease, watching him adjust his glasses for the tenth time. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were nervous.”

“I-I am not nervous!” he protests, his voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Oh? Then why are you blushing?” you ask, leaning in with a smirk.

Azul stammers, frantically flipping through the paperwork on his desk. “I-I have important matters to attend to! Y-you’re dismissed!”

You laugh as you leave, knowing he’s going to be thinking about this for days.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim’s laughter is infectious, but even he can’t hide how flustered he gets under your teasing.

“You’re too sweet, Kalim,” you say, resting your chin in your hand. “Almost makes me want to keep you all to myself.”

Kalim’s eyes widen, and he fumbles with the rings on his fingers. “W-wait, really? You’d want that?”

“Of course,” you reply with a playful smirk. “Who wouldn’t?”

His face lights up like a firework, and he starts rambling. “You’re amazing! I mean, wow, I didn’t expect—wait, you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

You laugh, and Kalim joins in, even as his face remains flushed.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil tries to brush off your teasing with grace, but even he isn’t immune to your charm.

“You’re stunning as always, Vil,” you say, your voice dripping with sincerity. “It’s almost unfair to the rest of us.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he replies, though the faint blush on his cheeks says otherwise.

“Oh, but I think it will,” you counter, leaning closer. “After all, you deserve to be reminded of how perfect you are.”

Vil’s composure slips for a moment, and he clears his throat. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you reply with a wink, leaving Vil behind to regain his composure.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s hair flares neon pink the moment you start teasing, and he looks like he’s about to combust.

“Wow, Idia, you’re really cute when you’re blushing,” you say, leaning in with a smirk.

“C-cute?! Me?!” he stammers, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. “T-that’s not—I mean—w-what are you even saying?!”

“Just the truth,” you reply, watching as his hair flickers nervously.

Idia buries his face in his hands. “I’m going to die. This is it. I’m dead.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s a fun death,” you reply, and Idia groans, hiding even further in his hoodie.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is used to admiration tinged with fear, but your teasing catches him completely off guard.

“You know, Malleus, you’ve got this whole dark and brooding thing down, but I bet you’d look even cuter if you smiled more.”

Malleus blinks, clearly taken aback. “Do you truly think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you reply, stepping closer. “In fact, I might just have to make it my mission to see you smile every day.”

Malleus’s lips twitch upward for a brief moment before he clears his throat, his usual regal composure slipping. “You are... most peculiar.”

“And you’re most adorable when flustered,” you reply, and Malleus stares at you, clearly unsure of how to respond.

Masterlist

[moonstruckme]

Hello there! I was wondering if you would be willing to write a request that I thought up? No pressure of course. I'd love to read your rendition of it but if you don't want to that is absolutely and of course fine.

So I am a pretty emotional person, and especially when I am pmsing or on my period its a very common sight for me to be silently crying over a sad reel or a photo of a puppy or sobbing loudly if I re-read my comfort angsty fic. I really crave physical affection and coddling during my period which sucks cause I live with 2 dormmates who sleep 2 steps away from me and aren't very touchy but are very loving. Like today my friend showed me a photo of her holding a puppy who was nuzzling into her sweatshirt, claws out and hooked in her sleeve and all and ofc I started crying. My other roommate was like don't show it to her she's on her period, she will cry. But then she was like, on second thought do, I enjoy her tears 💀.

On to my actual request now, sorry for rambling 😅

So I was wondering if the reader had a similar tendency with her emotions and hormones around her cycle, how the marauders would deal with it you know? Would they be used to it, asking if its just a leaky faucet to let some emotional pressure out (that happens a lot with me lol) or actual crying. If they would be freaking out no matter how often it happens. Or how they would coddle her.. very curious to see if you pick this up! Thanks for reading nonetheless <3<3

Haha thank you for your request angel <3

cw: reader who menstruates, mention of animals in televion industry, Sirius is not good with tears

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 644 words

You try not to make a spectacle of yourself. You really do. You hide in the corner of the couch, feeling the burn of your sinuses and eventually letting a couple of tears roll down your face without lifting a hand to wipe them. Your throat squeezes. Your temples ache. 

Despite your best efforts, all it takes is one tiny sniffle to get the attention of your boyfriends. 

James’ arm tightens around your shoulders. His cheek squishes into your head, voice heavy with sympathy as you both look at the TV. “I know, angel. It ends alright, though, yeah?” 

“All he does,” you choke out, watching the dog on the screen through blurry vision, “is wait for his owner to come home every day. That’s his whole life.” 

“It’s an advert for dog kibble!” Sirius protests. 

You shrug, weeping, and Sirius gives a short laugh tinged with anxiety. Remus sets a hand on his knee. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus says gently, “I’m sure that in real life, that dog is very well taken care of. He probably gets plenty of attention and time with his owners. He’s famous, right?” 

You nod, though you can’t help a tiny sob as the on-screen dog sits straight up at the sound of a key in the door. “Right.” 

“Right.” Remus gives you a kind look. “You okay? Not upset about anything else?” 

“Yeah.” You sniffle weakly. “M’okay, just. My head hurts.” 

James makes the sort of syrupy pitying sound that has your throat contracting all over again. “Do you think it might be the crying, lovie? It’s not the first time that commercial’s been on today. You could be dehydrated.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

“I’ll fetch you a paracetamol and some water to be sure.” Remus stands, patting Sirius’ thigh consolingly when the other boy shifts off his lap with the movement. He touches the top of your head as he walks behind the couch, and James kisses the spot as though to second it. 

“Baby.” Sirius turns to you with a stern look. “First the Lorax last night, and now this? The ad’s not even on anymore; it’s finished.” 

“It’s just…” You swallow, fighting to keep your voice solid. “Do you think all pets feel like that? When their people leave to go to work?” 

“No, honey,” James consoles you. “I think they’re happy to amuse themselves while we’re gone.” 

“They’re perfectly fine,” says Sirius, not unkindly. “Stop crying.” 

“Don’t be mean.” James gathers you closer. “She’s on her period, she’s entitled to some crying.”

“It’s like the hiccups, James. You’ve got to scare it off.” 

“That’s barbaric.” 

“What’s barbaric is the television industry that keeps making our girlfriend burst into tears at random points in the day!” 

“You guys.” You’re nearly laughing now. With tears still wet on your cheeks, Sirius hardly looks comforted. “Don’t fight.” 

“We’re not fighting.” James is quick to mollify you. 

“Oh, dovey.” Remus returns with your painkillers, bending to wipe your face with a put upon frown. “Are they upsetting you?” 

“God, no.” Sirius reclines back against the cushions, blowing a breath up towards the ceiling. “What chance have we of doing that, when there’s wealthy dog actors to do it for us?” 

You take the water Remus has brought you, downing the painkiller. “Do you really think the dog gets decent money from the advert?” you ask as he pets your hair dotingly. 

James ponders this. “Even if it’s not very much, I’d bet his owners put as much of it back into him as they can. He probably sleeps on a memory foam dog bed.” 

Sirius is watching your face distressedly. “Baby,” he nearly pleads. “It’s okay.” 

“No, that’s good,” you manage, voice a quiet squeak as your eyes fill again. “I just think that’s a really nice life for him. He deserves it.” 

[awordsmith]

if we had known 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer are best friends, and have never crossed that line because you're in love with him and he's in love with JJ–or so you think.

katcember

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s7 category: angst content warnings: proofed! right person wrong time(?), unrequited love, false depiction of therapy (really just the quickness and no evaluation), past to present, depression, broken to mending friendship, jealousy, envy, Spencer's addiction, lots of crying (prepare yourself), personal growth, reid with care word count: 9.4k a/n: it made me cry. a lot. enjoy!

Wind had been blowing through your hair, you had worn a long-sleeve and yet it was still cold–it was December, the constant downpour should've made you think twice before you'd left, but it hadn't, and you were freezing. Maybe you should have brought a jacket, that would have been ideal, but you were running late, and you were never late, so you had been rushing.

You remembered the clouds darkening that night, you weren't afraid of the dark, apparently, as Spencer had mentioned, but of the things that could be lurking. Hotch was staying late, per usual, and the others had already gone home for the night, so Spencer had offered to walk you to your car.

He was nice like that, which is why you'd considered him your best friend. You hadn't had many outside of the BAU, some acquaintances at best–and though you had been incredibly close to the other members on your team, Spencer was different. You had always supposed it was due to the fact that you were the closest in age.

He had been 26 at the time, and you were just a year younger. That was the year you had joined the team, at the ripe age of 25, whereas he had been with the team for 4 years prior to you. He was the youngest known member to join the Bureau, and working with him, you were able to see why.

He was incredible in almost everything he did, you loved listening to him rant, it was mesmerizing the way someone could be so passionate about so many different and unrelated things, the way he knew so much about nothing and everything. You'd known it was mainly his eidetic memory, but it had still been fascinating. You couldn't help the way you'd analyze the way he spoke nor could you fail to notice the other team members energy toward his rambling. It annoyed you a little, but you had been new and hadn't wanted to say anything.

In your own way though, you'd been able to show him you cared, "go on," you'd murmur in a low voice, a small smile grazing your lips. He used to look at you contemplative. The first time you'd said it, you'd almost wished you could take it right back. The others had looked at you like you might have been mad, and maybe at some point you were; if it were maddening to want to listen to someone speak, then you would've concluded that, yes, you were indeed mad.

"Thank you," you'd said as you got to your car, spinning on your heels, smiling up at him.

"Any time," he had chirped, hands in his pockets, "hey, there's this showing, it's in Italian and there are no subtitles, but I can whisper you the translations, if you...wanted to go..." he'd scratched the back of his head, it was the first time he'd invited you out. It wasn't a date, you'd known this because you'd heard him ask the others about it before, most of the time he was shut down and you'd had to cover your snickers because as sad as it was, it had also always been somewhat funny, their responses and expressions–and the way Spencer never look disappointed, but rather confused and sometimes even expectant.

"I'd love to-o-o," you'd shivered, grabbing your arm and rubbing it up and down.

"Oh, are you cold?" He'd frowned, concerned. He'd pulled his satchel off and had sat it atop your car's trunk. He'd shrugged of his sweater, it was his favorite at the time, the brown, plaid one. He'd worn it more than he spoke, which was saying something, you remembered smiling at the thought as he'd handed it over to you.

You were stunned, you had never dated anyone before, so this treatment hadn't been normal for you. Though with Spencer, things always seemed to be everything but ordinary.

He had grabbed your bag as you'd slipped into his sweater, dainty as it had been, it did the job. It smelled like him, like too-sweet coffee and paper, or maybe that was old books, it could've been both, he never was seen without one or the other.

"Thank you," you'd smiled up at him, taking your bag back, watching as he'd pulled his satchel back over his shoulder. The wind picked up again, but his sweater kept you warm, "again."

He'd nodded, "as I said, any time, it looks better on you anyway," you'd returned his nod, suppressing the grin that would have no doubt escaped you if didn't know Spencer was Spencer, if you were strangers, perhaps.

"So, the movie, where do you want to meet?"

He'd grabbed the strap of his satchel, eyebrows raised in slight disbelief, "you–want to go? Really?"

"Yep," you'd nodded, eyes lighting up, "I have a personal translator, not many people can say that. I'm special," you'd said dramatically, but pride had slipped through, and you were sure he'd noticed it, even if he'd omitted to say anything.

He'd snorted, "I don't come free."

That was the moment you'd known, that no matter how hard you'd try detaching your heart, losing him would hurt–it'd hurt in ways you'd kept yourself from imagining. Coming to this conclusion, making up your mind hadn't been all that hard, it was simple–really; you would just never lose him.

That same year, Spencer had been kidnapped by an unsub, who'd later be identified as Tobias Hankel. Words couldn't express how angry you were at JJ. You'd lashed out when you'd found out he was missing, Morgan had to hold you back from, from that point you had lost all control of your emotions and it was the first time you hadn't been scared to lose your job. You had been terrified of what he was going through, you hadn't even a clue as to where he was or if he was still alive. But he has to be, you remembered thinking.

It had almost drove you to complete depression, thoughts of uncovering his body in the most gruesome way, thoughts of him being a body and not Spencer, the genius who could ramble on and on about almost anything, who'd given you his sweater when you were cold, who'd whispered translations into your ear–it was unthinkable, and to this day it still brought you to tears when you thought about it.

When the live videos of him began popping up on the screens in the living room, Hotch had ordered you to stay in another room.

He'd noticed the way you'd began to look at Reid, how you watched him speak and encourage him to do it more often around you. He'd never say it out loud because he knew you and Spencer were both adults and would never cross that boundary, but he just couldn't bring himself to let you see Spencer like that. Gideon seemed to agree.

You'd been angry at him, of course–you were angry at the world. It's how he'd feel if something like that ever happened to Haley or Jack, he hadn't blamed you, but he had still needed you to be at your best, and you had already been deteriorating with the knowledge of Spencer's kidnapping, seeing those videos–him in that state–it would have ultimately broke you, and you were so young; he hadn't known then, if he could have pulled you back from that.

Finding Spencer alive was the only thing that saved you from a catastrophic end. You would have brought down the door with you bare hands had it not been for Hotch kicking it down for you. When you found he wasn't there, you'd run out, passed the other's shouting, "they have to be on foot, they can't be far."

Gun out, you were the first to approach, some part of your mind had taken over and you'd realized doing this by yourself wasn't rational nor professional, even if it was Spencer. He had been right there, so close, and yet so far. "I'm moving in," you'd told Gideon and Hotch, when they'd finally caught up.

No one said anything as you'd moved forward, guns trained on whatever might have been in front of you. It'd been dark, you'd had your flashlight above your gun when a shot rang through, you'd screamed and had ran towards it. The rest of the team followed close behind. Spencer had been leaning over Tobias, mumbling to him.

Hotch had stepped in front of you to help Spencer get to his feet as you'd stopped to watch, unable to physically move forward. Tears sprang in your eyes as the team began asking if he was alright. When Hotch had confirmed this, he'd glanced at you and frowned, turning back to Spencer for a brief moment to pat him on the back before walking away. Spencer had turned to you–or at least you thought he had. JJ had moved forward to your side hesitantly, but Spencer instantly captured her in a hug.

Your heart dropped and you felt some type of way, though you hadn't wanted to admit it to yourself at the time, there'd been a strong distaste for JJ in that moment, strong and yet it hadn't just been anger, it had been envy. You'd known it was envy because jealousy stemmed from something you had, and you did not have Spencer the way JJ did.

"I am so sorry," she'd said, and guilt had ran up your spine. How could you have felt such a terrible way toward her when she'd probably been punishing and blaming herself for everything he'd been going through? The worst part however, was that though you may have been closer to Spencer than anyone else on the team, he'd always have that bond with JJ; she'd known him first–and that was something you couldn't compete with.

When they'd pulled away, he'd glanced at Gideon and smiled painfully, but then his eyes had turned on you, and a nervousness that hadn't been there before spread across you like fire in a forest.

"Hey," he'd mumbled.

"Shut up," you'd wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest. He had smelled horrible, alcohol and another scent you wouldn't recognize until later.

He'd chuckled and you had heard the aching in it as he'd wrapped an arm around you, the other had gone to your hair, smoothing it downward, "I didn't say anything."

"What did I say," you'd pulled away, eyes red and rimmed, tear streaks smudged slightly on his dirty shirt.

He'd gave you one of those impeccable smiles, the ones he'd come to find could always get him out of trouble with you, you hated it, but despite yourself it still worked. He'd lifted his head then, to someone behind you, it was Morgan, his own eyes looking just as haunted.

Morgan had followed Gideon toward the cars after a shared silence. You'd helped Spencer limp back to the car, "you can put your full weight on me, I can handle it," you'd said, huffing.

He'd snorted and winced right after, "I know, you can handle anything." You'd smiled to yourself, then had frowned when Spencer stopped moving suddenly. You'd slid your eyes across his face, afraid he'd had some internal wound, one he couldn't mentally feel, but then his eyes–serious and captivating–stopped your wondering, and his voice had trembled when he'd whispered, "thank you."

Your throat had went dry and the rawness that'd laced your tone said everything and nothing at all, "any time."

He'd gotten addicted, anyone with half a brain could've seen it. You'd wanted to mention it, you'd wanted to bring it up, you just hadn't known how. Everyone on the team had seemed to want to ignore it, or, like you they'd had no idea how to bring it up without triggering him.

But you would. Your movie nights had ceased, after he'd been released from the hospital, you'd wanted him to take it easy, you'd never once thought that would've been the result. What the hell had happened? What had you not seen? What in this tragic world had he'd been going through on those live videos?

You had kept biting your tongue, but eventually, it had got to a point where you just couldn't stand to see him like that nor could you stand to sit idly by like the others and pretend like nothing was wrong.

Unannounced, you'd shown up at his place, should you have been there? You didn't think to care, a knock, then two. As you'd gone in for the third, audible rustling had come from the other side of the door. You had frozen, hands glued to your side like a cheerleader at default. His face when he'd opened the door looked horrible, he'd probably been just been asleep, it was a Sunday after all, a once in a lifetime Sunday where you hadn't been called in, a miracle, really; were it not for that Sunday, you just might have chickened out.

"Hey," you'd smiled, rubbing your hand over your arm nervously. "How–are you feeling?"

You hadn't bee able to see half of his body as he'd been leaning halfway out the door. You'd been to his apartment a few times prior, sometimes to pick him up, sometimes you'd binge movies and shows, but you'd never stayed the night. With how close you were, you were both careful not to cross that boundary–well, it had mostly been you.

You not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you not wanting to accidentally give yourself away by mumbling something in your sleep; you not wanting him to notice it in your eyes on an evening when you were half awake–and he would have, you had absolutely no doubt that he would have.

"I'm okay," his voice was thick, it had been 1 in the afternoon and you hadn't been one to judge, especially when it came to him, especially when you'd considered what he had survived–but it had still clung to you like a shadow, a dark, looming shadow. "What are you doing here?"

Your friend–your best friend–had been in trouble, he hadn't even looked like your friend anymore, he'd been a shell of himself, and if you had been anything, you'd been determined. You'd frowned and pushed your way into his house, "you've been distant," you'd moved your eyes around the space, nose crinkling at the odor, his apartment had been trashed. Cups of noodles had been on every surface, some even on the floor between his couch and coffee table. Blankets scattered the floor and you could remember seeing clothing on the floor in the hall that led all the way to his room. Your chest had squeezed in pain for him.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to," he'd motioned around and had cleared his throat.

"Oh, Spencer," your eyes had softened as he'd shut the door behind him, "I don't know what you've been going through, but I know it's been hard on you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he'd audibly gulped and had cast his eyes to the floor, having the decency to look a little ashamed.

"Spencer," you'd walked toward him, voice startlingly clear. His eyes had glanced up for a second, then quickly back to the floor. "Spencer," you'd said again, pulling on his wrists, "why haven't you come to me? I know you're hurting, please let me help you."

"Why?" His tone had been clear indifference, his eyes narrowed slightly and when he'd looked at you his face was distrusting.

That was the first time you'd felt a physical crack in your heart. You had never–never–seen him this way, in all the months you'd grown to know him, to appreciate and respect him, never once had he looked at you that way.

"Because you're my friend," you'd pleaded, tears welling up in your eyes.

He'd snatched his arms from you and had turned around with swiftness he'd only ever used in the field, "I think it's time you go."

"Spencer?" You'd called, your voice quiet.

He said nothing as he'd stepped out of your way and had reopened his door, waiting patiently for your exit.

You'd done so, but not without a plan forming in your head. The next day, Monday, you had woken up extra early, gotten ready, and had headed for Spencer's. You hadn't let a single word of his deter you from banging on his door until he'd answered–pushing away the guilt of waking up his neighbors–that day you'd forced him to give you a copy of his house keys.

The day after that, you'd gotten up early again, and using the copy of his house key, had silently slipped into his apartment and hauled him out of bed. You'd took his groaning and shouting and every insult he'd thrown your way under his breath, he didn't mean it, you knew, so you'd always thrown them away as soon as they'd leave his mouth–but sometimes, they'd find you at night when you were in bed and you'd cry yourself to sleep, then you'd get up and go through it all over again for his sake, all for him–but maybe...maybe just a little bit had been selfishly for you.

Hating yourself for knowing that had it been anyone else, you probably would have given up that first day, but it hadn't been anyone else, and you hadn't given up on him. Even if you'd known he was in love with JJ at the time, you wouldn't have done anything differently, because you didn't want to lose him–you couldn't; you had promised yourself.

The following weekend, you'd asked Gideon to let you stay home from the case you and the team had been working on, alluding to the fact it had something to do with Spencer, which thankfully got to him.

While Spencer was away with the team–you'd hoped they would watch out for him, you had to have faith that they had cared enough to do at least that much–you cleaned his apartment. You'd bought materials specifically to tackle the mold threatening to grow. You'd searched up–a lot of what you now knew on how to clean an apartment that had been dormant for a couple months–on the computer in the nearby library. Leave it to Spencer to always make you feel young.

You'd begun with the things you could pick up, separating dirty laundry from garbage via trash bags. The space had garnered a foul smell which you'd noted that first Sunday you'd popped up out of nowhere, but it had eluded your mind when Spencer had asked you why. You'd thought on that moment multiple times, why? Why? You'd sometimes felt like screaming when you were alone, how could he have asked such a stupid question? Of all the things that must have been floating through his thick skull he'd settled on "why"–you'd taken a breath, calming yourself. He couldn't help it, he hadn't expected anyone to care so he acted as if no one did. You hadn't meant to profile him at the time, it had just happened, and if you'd been honest, you hadn't felt sorry. It had been one of your biggest motivators–to show him that someone did in fact care.

Eventually, he'd begun to expect you each morning, and maybe it was a little selfish on his part–maybe–but he'd begun to lean on you, turn to you...a lot more than he should have. At first he'd rationalized it, you'd been persistent, who was he to stop you?

Within a month he'd begun seeing a therapist, he hadn't wanted to take time off of work and admit himself into a facility, doing that had–and still–scared him more than his addiction, it would have meant admitting he was unstable, unable, and that just–well it hadn't been an option.

He'd gotten his life somewhat on track again, thanks to you, it had all been you. He had treated you horribly and you had still cared, had still helped him–admitting himself into an institution not only scared him because of his past, but because the thought of not being able to see you at work everyday, and outside of work whenever he'd wanted was too much to bear, he knew he would have possibly gone mad–and he hadn't wanted to think about what that had meant.

You'd never seen a drunk Spencer before then, the air was chilly, and you'd just left the bar, thanking God Hotch hadn't been there, or he no doubt would have ripped into you for allowing Spencer to drink as much as he did.

Before then, the only thing you'd thought he drank more than he could handle was coffee. Morgan had taken Penelope home–you'd gotten used to their relationship as fast as Spencer read novels. Rossi and Emily had stayed home as well, reasons: unknown.

JJ hadn't been able to make it, she'd gone on a date with Will, she'd grown on you after Spencer had gotten better, but you'd still had a bone to pick with her and the rest of the team for allowing Spencer's addiction to get a bad as he did.

You'd kept your opinions and feelings to yourself because Spencer never brought it up, but there'd been times–you'd recall them sometimes right before you'd close your eyes at night–times where he'd asked for help in complete roundabout ways. But he'd said them in a room full of profilers, so there was no way he'd said them on accident or without meaning.

"Woa–ho," you'd laughed, grabbing onto his arm to keep him upright. "I am never letting you drink that much again."

"Wha–what?" He'd whined, "why? What did I do?"

You'd heaved a heavy sigh, but had laughed when he'd stopped, turned to you with squinted eyes, and poked your forehead.

Turning back away, he'd found you were on a bridge that overlooked a shallow river, the lampposts that had glowed that night lit up the dark, working together with the stars to allow you to see.

You'd followed him to the hangar and watched as he'd leaned over the railing, his elbows had b raced against the cold metal. You'd leaned your back on the railing beside him, head tilted upward toward the stars as his tilted down toward the water. "I think I love her," he'd whispered, but when you'd caught it–and you had caught it, your heart sank.

"...love her?"

"Yeah," he'd paused, "JJ."

JJ.

Crack went your heart. You'd blinked away tears and gulped. How were you suppose to respond? How would a normal friend respond? What would Penelope or Dereck say? Hell, even Hotch would've been a better person for him to say this to–but he hadn't known that.

You'd swallowed your pain, "oh..."

"I don't know what to do," he'd continued, "she's my best friend..." and she has a husband, and she has a kid on the way, and I thought I was your best friend and I love you... Thoughts ran through your head at godspeed, but you'd stayed silent because you were sure–no, more than sure, you knew for absolute certainty your voice would have given you away within seconds. Spencer had been drunk, but you hadn't been thinking about him, no it was you. If you'd heard your own voice, even for just a second, you would have lost it.

A break down had not been on your list of things to do that night, but there you were, balling your eyes out like a lovesick teenager the instant you'd stepped into you apartment. You hadn't been able to stop it, it wouldn't have been healthy, anyway, and if you had kept it inside, you would have chanced being profiled by the best, and it wouldn't have been hard to connect the dots.

You'd been pretty sure Spencer had not remembered a single thing from the moment you had left the bar. He'd called you the morning after with a massive hangover and as much as you had wanted to avoid him, he'd been your best friend and it wouldn't have been fair to him, especially if he'd had no idea what you were feeling–and how could he?

You'd hid it so well you hadn't even been able to believe it yourself. How to move on, how to get ride of these thoughts that had seemed to plague you every night? You buried it the only way you could; you wrote it out in a journal, everything, every last bit, it had been easier than saying it out loud to a therapist and even yourself.

Every time you'd felt the sudden urge to cry, every time you saw his gaze linger on her or they spoke alone, it hurt you, it hurt you a lot more than you'd ever thought it could.

It'd been a year, a year of suppressed feelings, of envy, of keeping quiet just so you could hold onto what you have left of him because if there was even a small chance JJ had given him any thought–yes she was married, yes, she had a child, and yes they were coworkers–you were pretty sure Spencer would take it.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Spencer plopped down on the chair beside yours. You were using it to hold documents as you'd been cleaning out your desk, but you'd stopped using for some time now, and you'd meant to take it back to the meeting room you'd stole it from when–briefly–you recalled that night Spencer had gotten a little too drunk.

You slammed the notebook shut way too fast to go unnoticed by him and as you lifted your head to meet his, his eyes snagged on the small brown, leather-bound book. "Nothing, why–what's going on?"

His eyes narrowed bit and when he lifted them back up to meet yours, you stilled. "Nothing..." he dragged out, "just wanted to see if you were busy tonight."

"Nope, completely free," you chirped.

He pressed his lips together, careful to keep his eyes on you. If he didn't, you would've profiled the notebook piqued his curiosity, and if he was going to snoop, he could't give you any reason to hide it.

Now, Spencer never would have done it if it hadn't been you. You had your secrets, sure, but he had talked to you about his mother, he had introduced you to his mother. You hadn't been around when the team first met her, and Spencer had desperately wanted you to, had wanted her to know you.

He'd taken you after he'd gotten clean, and you had been perfect just as you always were. You'd told him about your family too, where you'd grown up, what it was like for you in school, in university, you had practically shared life stories, so the fact that you were keeping something from him–it just–it didn't sit right.

It would keep him up at night and he knew it and–yes, it was an invasion of privacy and it was your right and yet he could not find it in himself to–for a lack of better words...care.

It was nearing his birthday, you hadn't mentioned it yet, but he knew you were planning something, perhaps that was what you'd been writing about, and if it was, well, then there was no harm no foul. You'd be pissed, of course, but you'd forgive him...eventually. You always did when he prodded at you, he'd use the smile you never seemed be able to say no to.

That smile, you were sure God had crafted it just for you because every time you saw it you just melted. Your knees would go weak or you'd get butterflies in your stomach, somersaults, or you'd just feel sick–you didn't know which was worse.

Some days your body would be affected physically and there would be no other explanation except the way you were feeling that day. Except the way you'd cry into your pillows, whenever the pain was too much, you found yourself ignoring the wold around you.

It was growing–had been for a while–you were planning to cancel on Spencer, which wouldn't be out of the norm for you these days, which was most likely one of the reasons he'd invited you out today, because you'd cancelled on your movie night last Saturday and the Tuesday before that, you'd cancelled your babysitting at Hotch's with him.

He was probably worried something had happened to you and you knew it was't fair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. His birthday was coming up and you wanted to do something for him, something special, you both loved October, you more than him because it was his birth month as well as spooky season, but as the days passed, you couldn't stand to see his face without feeling your heart ache.

You tried reading, throwing yourself into work, anything and everything to get your mind off of him, but nothing stuck. You were being consumed by your thoughts, your unrequited love, you needed a rush, maybe then you'd be able to close your eyes and breath without smelling his cologne and seeing his stupid, pouting smile.

October 12th, Spencer's birthday, he was turning 30 this year, and you still hadn't wrapped your head around what to do. You'd walked into the office, Penelope running past you, calling for you to follow. You weren't normally late, but the past year of suppression had taken its toll on you; you didn't think you'd ever been in a worser state than you were in now.

You listened over the case, but you weren't really listening, you were debating whether or not to tell Hotch, when someone latched their arms onto your shoulders and shook you.

You glanced around the circular table, meeting each pair of eyes with more shame than the last, "I'm sorry," you said, rubbing your eyes.

Hotch stared at you for a moment, silently analyzing your appearance, Spencer opened his mouth to speak, perhaps on your behalf, you couldn't really tell, but Hotch beat him to it when he stood abruptly and said, "follow me, the rest of you continue." You ignored Spencer's concern as you followed your boss to a private space.

Your eyes locked on something behind him as you waited for him to speak, and when he did, you weren't surprised at what he had to say, "what's going on with you?"

Six years, six years you had been with the Bureau, six years you had worked with Hotch and Spencer and Morgan and JJ and Garcia. Six years and for a brief, but sure moment, you'd thought about asking for a transfer.

"Don't do that," Hotch pulled your attention to his face, "don't ignore me."

Your frown deepened, "I'm not–

"First stage, denial," he tilted his head down when you averted your eyes so as to keep the contact, "but you're not in denial, nor are you angry, I've seen you write in that book of yours for half a year, but it's not enough anymore, you must've just hit stage four–"

"I thought we didn't profile each other," he'd hit a nerve and you both knew it.

He sighed, and murmured your name, it wasn't until you found his eyes again that he asked, "who are you mourning?"

You seized up, tightening your face. It was overwhelming and scary just how accurate Hotch was. A moment passed between you two, Hotch's brows furrowed in confusion and you–body, mind, face, and soul–frozen in terror.

The sound of the door opening knocked you both out of your trance. It was Spencer, Hotch caught the twitch your left eye gave when you perceived who the intruder was. Recognition lit up his face, but then he was just as confused again. You and Spencer seemed to be as you always had been–no, something must have changed, for you at least. Spencer seemed oblivious, or he had been for the better part of whatever you'd been going through.

He was now between a rock and a very hard place, what could he honestly do? This had nothing to do with him–but he had failed a team member once, and now that same team member seemed to be at the pinnacle of the distress of another one. What was he to do? What was the best course of action? He had no information, well, he knew you were in love with Spencer, that wasn't much of a deduction, the whole team practically knew–all but Spencer of course. If it was rejection–no that just didn't fit with Spencer's upbeat attitude, whatever had happened clearly wasn't recent.

"Hotch," Spencer spoke, pulling his attention away from his thoughts if only for a moment, "do you mind if we..."

Oh. The team lead thought, perhaps Spencer had found out already? Then he had everything under control? So, should he leave it alone? Ignore it? That seemed to be what he did best, he grimaced at the guilty thought and glanced at you, now just a bit relaxed. "Sure, but be quick."

He stopped himself from saying more and took up refuge in the room with the rest, pretending like he didn't notice their questioning eyes. This time, of all times, the best thing he could truly do for his team members–was absolutely nothing.

Spencer stood silently, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared at you with unrelenting eyes. He was analyzing you just as Hotch had been, but with better, knowing eyes.

He did–in fact–sneak a peak at your journal, more so toward your latest entry. It shocked him–to his core, it shocked him. He had to put it down when he'd read the first paragraph. Being able to read 20,000 words per minute, he'd thought he'd be done within seconds, he'd thought he would have been able to read the entire thing, actually, before you got back from the restroom.

It had been the first time in a long time he'd been wrong about something, wrong about himself.

He'd read it over again after a few second of sitting in your chair, too stunned to come up with coherent thoughts. He'd thought he surely must have read it wrong, he must've been tired, he couldn't have read what he'd thought he'd read.

But sure enough, the words were still there, emboldened and burning in his head. He'd flipped back to the first entry, you'd been documenting for a few months now and it physically pained him to read it. How could he have not known? How could he have been so incredibly blind? How could he call himself a genius and not have profiled that his best friend was in love with him? That she was hurting from it, because–all because–

"You know then," her voice tugged at something in him. His face contorted into pain-stricken grief. You contained a small urge to laugh, it would have been dry anyway, and you were tired, but you shoved it down, away.

"Yeah," his voice was raw, like he'd been crying and maybe he had, maybe some part of him felt sorry for you so he had cried. Pity, it disgusted you, it made you disgusted at yourself.

You nodded, your lips forming a thin line, "I'm sorry," you got out before you shut you eyes on instinct to keep the tears from spilling out. You turned around to hide hide yourself, he already knew, you had to keep some emblem of your dignity.

You began walking away when you recalled, for some reason, his birthday, and you turned back around, walking back up to him with tears streaking down your face. Tears in his own eyes threatened to break loose at any moment. You truly were sorry that you had put him though all of this, but that's not why he was crying.

He was angry at himself and hurt for you. He didn't know how he could have been so incredibly stupid. That's all he could think of, all his mind–his heart–would let him think clearly; how stupid he was.

He watched as you stepped forward, as sad and detached as you seemed, your walk was graceful, as if you were a ghost floating down the hall. He tensed slightly, as you brought your hands forward, he'd take it, he deserved to be slapped after all–hell, he would probably slap himself later on when he was alone because of how unintelligent, how thickheaded, and witless he'd been.

He didn't even close his eyes, he was ready for it, but you didn't slap him. You pulled his face down and pushed yours forward. You kissed the side of his cheek and whispered, "happy birthday, Spencer."

Shock wrapped itself around his brain, he felt like a robot as you pulled away and turned. Pieces fell as you walked away because shattered was your heart.

He should have followed you, he should have, he knew he should have, but he had been scared. He still was, and the more time went on–the longer he stopped seeing you–that fear grew. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was terrifying him, but he had a few guesses.

He didn't want to lose your friendship: he'd been so close to you for so long, he turned to you for everything and he'd expected you to do the same. There were moments, he'd knew there were, when he'd catch himself analyzing he curve of your figure when you'd fallen asleep on his ouch or yours. His eyes would sometimes trace the lines that made up your face, the dip at the top of your lips, the way they'd press together when you were contemplative or worried. He didn't want to lose those moments, moments that he really shouldn't have had, moments that he considered his and his alone.

He'd never been in this situation before and if he wasn't careful, he'd mess it up: Spencer'd had crushes before, he'd even had a girlfriend once, briefly, but compared to you? They had been fun, exciting even, you–you were dangerous. When those girls had entered his life, he knew they'd eventually leave and he didn't mind that. That's why he'd kept all those moments to himself, why he never told Morgan or Penelope or even Emily. The things he'd done just so he could keep you, of course he knew it wasn't rational. You'd eventually find a boyfriend and settle down and maybe that boyfriend would someday become a husband. He had always ignored the bile that built up whenever he thought about it, about losing you–because he wouldn't be giving you away, how could he if you were never his to begin with?

A week turned into a month and before he knew it, December was here, it had surprised him so much so, he thought surely a car must have hit him when he hadn't been looking.

The team noticed it, the deterioration. It was visible in both his physique and his mind. He couldn't focus on any of the cases they'd been given. It started off small, with his mind wandering, but as time went on, it became less and less easy to focus him again.

Hotch had emailed you professionally, explaining how you could take as much time as you'd needed and when you were ready to come back, the team would be waiting. Then he'd texted you unprofessionally and told you if there was anything you needed, he was one text or one phone call away.

You'd spent the past few weeks going to therapy. As soon as you'd left the office, you'd sat in your car for a while, contemplative. You'd started driving and your subconscious brought you to a personal health center. You had forced yourself out of the car and through the front doors, tears fell down as you entered. There were a few people in the waiting room, not including the receptionist.

"I–was wondering," you half said and half sniffled, "if you had any walk-ins."

They had one, but you'd have to wait for about an hour, and you did. You spoke to a woman, thankfully, it was easier for you to let out all your faults, all the times you'd cried, all the times you had felt you were a horrible human being, all because of one person, but then again this obsession wasn't at all on Spencer.

And it wasn't all on you either, your therapist, whom you called your saving grace from time to time, explained that because you had built up all of your emotions, and there had been a number of them, you kind of just broke. Which was on parr with the way you'd been feeling.

She'd asked to see the notebook you kept, but you had left the thing in the drawer of your office, you'd cursed yourself. You had no idea how much Spencer had read, but he must have read it because there was no other way he'd known exactly how you were feeling, and if there was any chance he'd go back to read any more–that was if he hadn't read the entire thing already–well, you'd wanted to prevent that.

"What are you feeling?" The therapist had asked, "would you rather write it down?" She'd slid over her notepad and pen.

You'd taken it willingly and had stared at the blank space for a moment, and then–all at once–conversations and small gestures and intimate moments flooded your system, it had been 9 in the morning, and the curtains had been closed and the regular light turned off; a lamp and candle directly across form each other had been the only things to keep the room from complete darkness.

The words left your mind faster than you could write, but you did and when you filled a page, you'd flipped it over, no longer crying, but focussed, and when you were done, you'd taken a breath. You had ignored the uncomfortable feeling of the therapist analyzing you, it was her job as it was yours, yet you'd still felt yourself shift under her gaze.

"Can I see?" She'd asked and you'd handed over the paper and pen, though hesitantly.

And it took her breath away, just as you had known it would, as it had no doubt took Spencer's.

It was almost a year's worth of grieving, and yet you had not idea what you were even thinking about. How could you mourn something that wasn't dead? It's not dead because it was never alive. You'd thought.

Unrequited love. One of the most painful types of love, yet when it came to Spencer–there was something more. You'd told her, "it's not just that," she'd nodded, encouraging you to continue and her patient eyes reached something in your heart, and just barely, you felt it mend.

You saw her the next day with an appointment, and they you a few days later, you saw her again. You grew accustomed to seeing her twice a week, and you'd even grown acquainted with some of the staff, the receptionist especially. They had multiple therapists who specialized in different areas, yours, thankfully, focussed on personal growth.

The weather transformed before you eyes and before you knew it, it was the first of December. You'd stepped out of your house and took in the fresh air, it was one of the firsts in a long time that you had felt truly okay, that you didn't feel like the world would come crashing down around you, and better, that you didn't wish for it to happen anymore.

You'd texted Hotch two days ago, you hadn't known if he was on a case or not, but it had been Saturday and your hope peaked through. Throughout the rest of October and all of November, the team had messaged you multiple times, checking in to see if you were okay. You didn't have the energy to respond at the time, but a few weeks after seeing your therapist, you'd texted each and every one of them, save for one geeky genius.

You had notably not received any messages from Spencer, and it used to send a dull ache through you, but now it only made you swallow. You missed him, missed his company, but not seeing him was a step forward, your therapist had said you needed time and space away from him particularly, and you knew she was right. Your subconscious had been telling you the same thing for weeks before Spencer read your journal.

Thankfully, Hotch wasn't on a case, and he did pick up, when you'd told him to come over, he knew something was up, for better or worse, he didn't know, but you were speaking again, and to him no less. You'd asked if he could bring Jack, you had a lot of apologizing to do to the little guy for cancelling on him.

Hotch had alluded in messages that Jack asked about you whenever a babysitter that wasn't you came over, though he never outright wrote that the kid missed you because he'd known it wasn't fair to you. You were thankful, but you still felt guilty.

That day, you'd turned on The Magic School Bus for Jack and kept a careful eye on him while you and Hotch sat at your kitchen stools and spoke quietly in the background. "How is he?" You'd asked, trying to start the conversation light.

"He's fine," Hotch had replied, "...he misses you." He didn't say 'you and Spencer', which told you he knew.

How? It was Hotch, of course he knew.

"How are you?"

You'd turned your head back to him, a small, but sad smile falling over your face. "Better."

He'd nodded, tight-lipped, "good."

"I want to come back to work," he'd let out a breath and were it not for his eyes, you would have never known he'd felt relieved.

His mouth quirked upward slightly, and a crooked grin–a rare sight from Aaron Hotchner, indeed–filled the no longer anxious silence.

Your first day back at work, a Monday, December 3rd. It was tense at first, and you thought you might tuck tail and run when you saw Spencer, but you didn't, if anything you felt lighter. Maybe now, you could mend your friendship, that's what your therapist had said was the best course of action if you wanted to still be friends with him, though you didn't have much of a choice, you worked with the man.

You didn't avoid him, and the team at first, wondered what you had spent the last few weeks doing. Hotch had returned to your house Sunday to give you an eval, and you had passed with average colors, but he had cleared you. That was all that mattered.

Spencer didn't know what to make of your abrupt return, he hadn't been expecting it and for some reason he felt Hotch was punishing him...slightly. He thought you'd go back to avoiding him, but you didn't. You didn't seek him out like you used to, but you no longer evaded his questions or averted your eyes when he spoke to you.

He felt the wight in his chest lessen, and as time went on you were slowly falling back into your normal routine, but you still loved him, despite yourself, and he still loved JJ, and you came to accept that. If this was as close as you could be to him, you were okay.

And who knows? Maybe as time went by, you'd be able to move on. Your heart warmed and gently, you felt it mend again. Quietly, but efficiently, your heart was righting itself.

A week went by, and then two. You were talking with Hotch in his office about what Jack wanted for Christmas, and he was asking if you'd wanted to take Jack to see Santa with him. The others had already agreed to go, Spencer included, it was quite obvious the kid looked up to him; it still sent a flutter through your body, beginning at your toes, till it hit you head and you felt dazed. Spencer would be an amazing father, whoever he married–and he would...marry one day, you were sure of that–would be the luckiest person on earth–and his kids, well, they'd be blessed by angels.

"Oh shit," you stopped, frowning at the looming darkness that greeted you at the exit of the Bureau.

A snort came from behind you, "yeah, I thought you'd say that." Spencer sighed, halting beside you. You tilted your head upward, your small smile adjacent to his. "I guess some things never change."

You huffed a laugh, smacking him in the chest, "whatever, come on my knight and shining armor."

Hotch watched from his office window as Spencer followed you out to the carpark, like he had all those years ago, and briefly, he wondered if Spencer was going to tell you now. He clicked his tongue, remembering the not so pleasant discussion he and the team had with him concerning you after your return.

They had more or so laid into him, Hotch, though, kept his comments to himself, knowing he didn't have the power to control the actions of others, but maybe, just maybe, fate did. He didn't believe in ghosts, but Rossi talked about them sometimes, and even he had to admit, the setting before him was a little too coincidental.

You waddled to your car like a penguin, making Spencer laugh, you loved his laugh, you always would. "So," he stopped at your car, leaning against it with those doe eyes–a gift to him and perhaps a curse to you.

"So?" You raised a brow, unlocking your car and shrugging your bag into the driver seat.

"There's this showing..." he cleared his throat, "it's uhm," he chuckled nervously, feeling his palms sweat, somehow the universe had known. It must have, he was a logical person, a scientific one, and being one he knew scientists had not yet debunked the theory of fate, normal people called them "happy coincidences" and/or "happy accidents". They were two different words, but both phrases held the same meaning.

"What language is it this time?" You sighed, but you were teasing.

"It–uh, it's in Italian," he cleared his throat and your heart boomed.

"Oh," you nodded, "sure I'd love to go."

He would have said 'really?', but it was you, and you had been so agreeable these past weeks, He was hopeful, but nervous because what if you did say no? What if he said the wrong thing without knowing it and you left again? He couldn't' loose you, not this time.

It was now or never and he knew it, the entire team had coerced him to a dinner where they half ate and half lectured him the entirety they were there.

"It's so obvious," Emily had sighed.

"Look pretty boy, I'm not one to butt into other people's business, but seriously..." Morgan had shaken his head.

And where Morgan stopped, Rossi had picked up, "did you lose your brain over night?" He'd poked Spencer's head, muttering something in Italian, but Spencer knew Italian, and he had to agree, yes, he was ignorant.

JJ, Spencer sighed when he thought about what JJ had said, "If you love her, Spence," she'd also reached out to grab his hand, holding it down on the table, "then she deserves to know."

"She's my best friend," he had squeaked out.

"Oh, sweetie," Penelope had watched him with sad eyes and a sad smile to match, "we know."

"Spencer?" You raised a brow, an awkward smile perfecting the confused expression you wore.

"Sorry," he muttered, "just..."

"Yeah...what-t?" You shivered and began rubbing your arm to warm yourself up.

"Your cold?" He couldn't believe it, but unlike that time years ago, he wasn't waring a sweater. In fact, he wondered if you still had that one. It was his favorite at the time, but when you'd tried giving it back, he'd insisted you keep it.

At the time he'd excused it as being a germaphobe, but now, he thought it might've been something more. When his eyes shifted to yours, your heart–you could swear it stopped beating. His eyes had softened and he was looking at you with something you couldn't coherently explain.

"When did you know you loved me?"

You took a step back, the question hitting you like the cold wind slapping across your face. "I–"

"I think for me, it was after I got better, after you helped me get clean. Well, at least that's when I started taking into account my off behavior." He rambled a little.

"What?" Your breath hitched, how could he spring this on you so suddenly? How–how–"what?"

He paused, eyes finding yours again, disbelief and maybe anger? He expected as much, he was telling you this after all you'd been going through, but the thing he couldn't understand was why. Why did you think there was no possibility that he could like you back? Why–if you had loved him for so long–did it just–a year ago–start breaking your heart?

He called your name and took a step forward, "what gave you the impression, that I didn't love you back?" If he had know–only if he had known you'd been going through this, that he'd been breaking your heart–that you loved him...

You turned away, tears–God you were so tired of crying. "You said–that night you were blackout drunk on the bridge, that you loved her." You took a shuttering breath, twisting your body to look at him again–knowing this was more than likely going to ruin your friendship for good. "You called her your best. Friend. Spencer...and I," you motioned toward yourself, "I knew I would never compare and I had kept my feelings hidden for so long that I didn't even know what I was feeling–"

"Whoa, what?" He held up a hand, "what–what are you talking about?" His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, recalling a memory, he had alway thought he'd been dreaming whenever it came to them.

Over the weeks after, it had come back to him in sections, as he'd pieced together the parts one by one, he had come to the conclusion that he must have dreamt it up because–because JJ wasn't there that night. She had some plans with Will, or something, he couldn't really remember.

It had to be a dream, because he couldn't have confessed his love for you to JJ–she wasn't at the bar that night–but if what you were saying was true–no it didn't–it didn't–and then it smacked him in the face.

"I–" he closed his eyes, laughing almost hysterically, "I was talking about you." His voice cracked and he shook his head, running his hands over his face. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it.

"What–" you sniffled, "what are you talking about?"

He caught his breath, tears falling down his cheek as his face crumbled and he wiped them away, loathing himself more than he ever had before, "I thought–" his breathing was heavy now and you could hear the straining–the thickness strangled together as he forced it out, "I thought you were JJ."

Step, you took a step, and then another until you stood in front of your best friend. The sound echoed across the dark, silent lot, though the wind was picking up again. The cheek you'd slapped burned red, Spencer looked like an owl–a deer caught in headlights, if you will–face turned to the side, mouth agape, eyes wide with shock.

Slowly, he let his head drift back toward you, you were already waiting for his eyes to find yours. You wanted to hit him some more, to take your pent up frustration out on him, but you only had energy for a single slap tonight. A slap, and a kiss.

You pulled him down by his collar, your eyes closing upon impact. He tasted of coffee and smelled like olde books and leather, like you knew he always did. If only you had known, but you couldn't change the past, you could only move forward.

"So, where do you wanna meet?" You asked him when you pulled away. He blinked, and you smirked, eyes narrowing slightly, "for the showing."

His eyes lit up and he pulled you closer, wrapping his long arms around your torso, breathing you in like you just might disappear before his eyes if he didn't.

You giggled as his breath tickled your skin, tears long forgotten, and your heart full as it once had been.

a/n: if you're a writer, don't proof read your angst fics

[archangeldyke-all]

@sumilane made this gorgeous art and i wrote a little something for it! i posted it already last night as a reblog but i'm going to make it it's own post so gio can add more art to it!! eeek!!!

men and minors dni

sevika is feeling strangely vulnerable.

it could be the bottle of whiskey the two of you have been sharing this evening. it could be that silco, the one person she knew best in the world, is gone now. it could even be the brat he left behind for her to take care of who's been slowly worming her way into sevika's heart throughout the time spent fixing up her new arm and changing their looks together.

it could just be you, though. the sorta-sad, mostly resigned look in your eye as you lament your relationship woes to sevika.

"i dunno... every time i think i could have something with someone-- not even like, marriage, but y'know-- just someone to share some intimacy with-- something happens and it doesn't work. after a while i just start to think maybe it's not the circumstances that are fucked up 'n maybe it's just me."

"bullshit." sevika spits, shaking her head and quickly refilling her glass with more whiskey. she has to do something with her hands to keep from reaching across the table and shaking your shoulders as she speaks. "y-you're fine. perfect--" she cuts herself off, a furrow in her brow as she glares at her whiskey.

you snort. sevika's adorable when she's tipsy, stumbling over her words and staring into space. fuck. you need to stop rambling about your heartache to the woman you're hopelessly in love with. "i-i'm sorry for dumping this shit on you sev. 's boring and stupid and--"

"no, shut up, it's just--" sevika blinks up at you then curls in on herself in a manner that's almost... shy. she clears her throat and looks away for a moment, almost whispering. "i-i'd marry you."

you blink.

"what?"

"i'm saying you're fuckin' stupid if you think you don't have options." sevika mutters, hunching her shoulders so much she looks small.

you're heart's beating a mile a fucking minute, and you squeak when you bite your tongue to make sure you aren't dreaming. "you said you'd marry me?"

"fuckin'-- obviously only in some hypothetical world where you were into me." sevika shrugs. "but...yeah." she grunts, before reaching out and drowning the whiskey in her glass, muttering a "fuck." under her breath.

you blink a few times, tears spontaneously bubbling up in your vision and a lump forming in your throat. "i was under the impression that i didn't have a shot with you." you whisper.

sevika's eyes fly to yours, wide and shocked. "what the fuck would make you think that?!"

"j-just..." you trail off, gulping again. "you're the most interesting, attractive woman i've ever met, and i am one of about a thousand other fuckin' people in zaun who think so. a-and we've been friends for years and you never said anything..." you trail off as sevika stumbles out of her booth and over to yours, shoving in beside you and cornering you against the wall, clutching your jaw with both of her hands as she stares down at you-- bewildered.

"is this a dream?" she asks.

"i bit my tongue to check-- it's real."

"i-i was serious y'know. i'll take you down to the courthouse tomorrow morning." she says, her voice shaky and sincere.

suddenly, the full reality of the situation hits you, and you burst into laughter. "i-i've been in love with you for years." you admit through giggles. "years!"

sevika starts to giggle too. "m-me too."

"and your fucking haircut is so hot all i've wanted to do for the past two weeks is kiss yo--"

sevika cuts you off with her lips to yours, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

it's a drunk, sloppy kiss-- years of tension and yearning finally bubbling to the surface as sevika attempts to pin you to the booth.

you have every intention of letting her do just that when she pulls away, grinning down at you.

"you really bit your tongue, didn't you? i can taste the blood in your mouth." she asks.

you nod, clawing at her desprately as you try to get her to kiss you again. sevika grins, swooping in to do just that-- but when she pulls away the second thime with her leps stained with your blood, you gasp. "oh, shit!"

"i tried to tell you." sevika giggles.

"do i need stitches? can you give stitches to a tongue?" you ask.

"this really puts a dent in all my plans." sevika cackles. you snort, and she passes you the bottle. "drink. it'll wash the blood away."

"w-what plans?" you ask as you take a swig.

"the plans i had for your tongue."

you choke, whiskey spraying everywhere as you cackle.

sevika--covered in your spit, blood, and whiskey-- smiles so wide you think her face might crack.

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@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

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@lavandasz

[14dayswithyou]

As a humble admirer of Everything Yandere and of the inner workings of the sick and twisted minds of loving, lovesick maniacs and of their warped and muddled perceptions of love and intimacy, I pose you the question: What type, kind, flavor, species of Yandere is Ren/Redacted? I've gone through the asks on the blog answering what lovesick and yearning behaviors he goes through, why he does them, what they mean to him — but can we go deeper? What disturbing things does Ren do, be it for his own twisted satisfaction and perception of "love", be it to those he sees as threats to his Angel? What are his limits, where does he draw the line, how far is he willing to go to get what he wants, and who is he willing to hurt and how? Where does he draw the line when it comes to Angel? I know he would never physically hurt them, but what kind of mental warfare would he inflict on them to get them where he wants? Are we talking isolation, manipulation, gaslighting, brainwashing? And if so, how does that happen?

I'd be very very happy if you'd be okay with going into this analysis — and would it be possible to answer the Yandere Alphabet for Ren? Thank you for blessing me with this mess of a boy and sowwy for the ramble ♡ ♡ Tell Ren to clean up the bloodstains he left earlier ♡

⌞♥⌝ Because I get this question a lot, I personally feel like I've answered it to the fullest possible extent that I can gdkfgjdj ^^; So if you haven't already seen them, I reccomend going through these asks: one, two, three, four, and five!

As for your other questions:

I've highlighted them in pink to make it easier to reference/link it back to the questions above

The "disturbing" things Ren would do to his victims have been answered more or less in a few of the asks mentioned above.

Ren honestly doesn't have any major limits aside from physically harming or forcing himself onto Angel in any way. He doesn't find any pleasure in doing so, nor would he ever want to turn out like his father — much less subject the only person he genuinely cares about to the same things he had to endure as a child.

Ren also doesn't really draw the line anywhere — again, aside from upsetting Angel in any way — so anything is fair game when it comes to everyone else. But speaking as his creator for a moment, I will say that Ren is not the type to harm babies, animals, abandon his own/Angel's children, force himself onto anyone, or coerce anyone into sexual activities in order to get what he wants. That's icky af and I'm not rocking with it /gen /lh

On a slightly lighter topic, Ren is willing to go as far as necessary if it means having Angel rely on him and him only... So long as it keeps them happy at the same time. As much as he'd love to "remove" Angel's friends and family permanently, he won't entertain that thought if it'll make them upset. At most, he'd likely try non-lethal ways to get rid of them in hopes of keeping Angel happy (and oblivious).

One of Ren's major characteristics is that he's willing to change himself to suit Angel's needs, no matter how drastic it may be. If they find any sort of reliability or comfort in him by doing so, then he'll latch onto that notion and feed into it. By becoming someone Angel can trust and confide in, Ren would (potentially) be able to manipulate them and sway their thoughts... Almost like a metaphorical devil on their shoulder, in a sense lmao

I've said this a few times on this blog before, but Ren is the CEO of gaslighting and manipulation. He's down to try a bit of isolation if it's somehow possible to keep Angel happy while doing so, though I don't think Ren would be into mindwashing since he idolises, honours, and blindly trusts Angel's original thoughts more than his own. He wants them to genuinely develop feelings for him, not because he forced them to.

I've actually been asked to do the Yandere Alphabet by a few other people recently, so I'll get around to doing it sometime!! ^^

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

Baker Steve and Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU

Part two

"Steve! You have no idea!" Eddie's laughing, and that always makes Steve laugh, too. He's clearly a little tipsy. "Everyone went mad for the cake! It's was just, gone! Here, I'll send you some pictures!"

"I know what it looked like Eds," but Steve's grinning, knowing he's talking to empty air, can hear Eddie very vaguely mumbling to himself as he looks through his camera roll. Next to Steve' ear, his phone vibrates several times.

"Anyway, Stevie, I was thinking," Eddie's back now, still clearly tipsy but sounding uncharacteristically sheepish, "it's Christmas kind of soon right? Going to need a cake or two there. New year. Easter. Birthdays and bar mitzvahs and...and... independence day...so I was thinking I should get my orders in now, you know? Avoid disappointment."

"Eddie," Steve starts, finds himself turning shy himself, "you don't have to have a cake on order just to talk to me."

"I, ah, don't?"

"No, I mean, pretty sure we're friends, right?"

"Friends," Eddie starts slowly, "there's, like, lots of different kinds of friends."

"Sure, sure," Steve agrees easily, butterflies running rampant in his stomach, "there's even, kind of, more than friends, really."

"That sounds really really great-"

"Eddie!" There's a cacophony in the background, people shouting, "man, you're missing your own party-"

The line goes dead, and Steve's left standing in the dim light of the evening, just staring at tomorrow's cake order where it's cooling on the racks. A minute later, his phone buzzes in his hand, "so sorry baby, talk tomorrow."

Steve smiles at his phone. He had gone a little quiet after finding out who Eddie really is. It had kind of surprised him. But then Eddie had text him, "did I do something? 😞" and Steve realised Eddie's entitled to his privacy, the same as anyone.

"Hey Stevie, how's your day?"

Steve has Eddie on speaker phone as he mixes batter, "pretty good so far, you? You hungover?"

"No, no, didn't get that wasted, too old for that nonsense now, you know?"

Steve laughs, "aren't you like, 25?"

"I mean, maybe. Definitely old enough to, like, think about settling down, you know?"

Steve's breath catches in his throat, excitement and nerves after their interrupted conversation last night, "yeah, you, thinking about that? With, uhm, someone?"

"Yeah, I am, it's just..." Steve's heart sinks in his chest," my job, you know, I travel a lot, and that would be a sacrifice for anyone, and I couldn't ask someone to live with that, you know?"

"Well...what if it wasn't? What if they just...went with you?"

"What if...this person...had a job they loved? Their own business they worked hard for?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees slowly, "but what if...well, take me for example. I love to bake, but I don't love my business. That's just a means to an end, you know? I don't always love the orders, I'd choose to make something else if I was doing it for fun. So if it were me, i'd give it up in a heartbeat as long as I can keep baking."

"Yeah? You mean it?"

"Yeah. Yeah Eddie, I mean it."

"I, I mean, sure. Good. Thanks. I mean, not thanks, I mean, good, that's great."

Steve grins at Eddie's ramblings.

"I'll be away though, soon, for a couple of months, like four months, so, maybe, we could keep talking and when, I mean, if you want, what I get back..."

"I'd like that." Steve fist pumps, silently celebrating. "You never actually told me what you do for work?". Steve's teasing him, but Eddie doesn't know that Steve knows so, Steve grins to himself and keeps his voice even.

"I ah, music?"

"Yeah, you have mentioned that before, but what about it?" Steve knows he's being a dick, he just can't help it though.

"I ah, travel, with the band," Eddie starts slowly, and that is technically not a lie, Steve thinks, "and I kind of, look after some of the instruments and...have a lot to do with the sound checks? Like I'm definitely always there, for every sound check, like, I have to be."

All of that is probably true, Steve thinks, and god bless Eddie for not wanting to actually lie to Steve.

"Oh right, and what's the band called?"

"Oh, they're like, heavy metal, you've definitely never heard of them."

After they get off the call, Steve laughs all afternoon.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Established Steddie, they have been living together for over a decade, did their best to heal their wounds from the Upside Down and learn to enjoy life again. It's not easy but they do it.

When the Lord of the Rings movies come out, it's actually Steve who suggests watching them to Eddie. He really tries engaging with Eddie's passions, but his focus is not the greatest when it comes to books. That doesn't mean he doesn't listen to Eddie ramble about them though - he knows all about hobbits, second breakfasts, the culture of smoking in the Shire...Eddie admires a lot of characters from the books, but ever since experiencing the Upside Down fuckery, he actually admits that the hobbits had a point. Good food, even better company and good tobacco? What else does one need? It also inspires Steve a few years later to prepare a full day of hobbit-inspired meals for their trilogy marathon when the extended editions come out. But this is about their first time watching the movies.

They both go to the movie theater excited. Steve is familiar with most of the characters, including Eddie's self-admitted crush on Aragorn. And Steve can see why, he can see so much good in all the members of the fellowship. After the first movie, he's wiping his eyes because Boromir deserved better. Eddie has a lot to say about what was lost in adaptation, but Steve knows Eddie loves those movies and would cut off his only remaining nipple before missing the next ones.

The Two Towers have Steve rooting for the ents and he feels strangely touched about how everyone underestimates Pippin, yet it's him who gets the ents to march. He really can't pick a favorite character. He can't wait for the third movie.

They go to the premiere of the Return of the King with Eddie. They secretly hold hands in the last row, and Steve watches the ride of the Rohirrim with bated breath. He clenches his hand in Eddie's when Theoden gets gravely injured, but then Éowyn is there and...oh.

He is staring slack-jawed at the scene. Éowyn's large, terrified eyes, the towering frame of the Witch King. Her posture was fearful, crouched, but still she faced him. And something surfaces in his head, something he's long forgotten.

He's unusually queit when they come back home, he still loves the rest of the movie, almost cries at "my friends, you bow to no one,", then definitely cries at Frodo leaving the Middle Earth. But there is still that something and Eddie can sense it. When they're falling asleep together, Eddie finally asks him. And Steve's had enough time to process what he felt.

"When Éowyn faced the Witch King...it reminded me of what it felt like. I mean, for the first time. I know it's stupid because saw so much unnatural shit, but...it's the first time that I have hard time forgetting," he admits quietly. "She reminded me of me in 1983 so much. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I thought I'd do the right thing, but then I had a gun pointed at me, they both had blood on their hands...and then it appeared."

Eddie doesn't speak, he only holds Steve closer.

"It was so tall. I remember that petal-like mouth, those teeth, but mostly...I remember the crippling fear. I felt absolutely terrified. I couldn't move. There was even a moment when I thought of running away, but...I couldn't leave them there. Seeing someone go through something similar and being praised for being a hero...it makes me think. I used to be so ashamed for freezing in that moment. For even considering running away. But Éowyn...she was like me." There's awe in his voice and warmth, relief. "She had no idea what she was getting into. She froze. She didn't do everything perfectly and gracefully like Legolas or something, but when it mattered...she did what she had to."

He holds Eddie tighter and asks, almost shyly: "Will it offend you that I think she's my favorite character? Not Aragorn or Sam?"

Eddie just shakes his head and drops a kiss to Steve's hair. "Nah. She suits you well. And you're both amazing."

And if it becomes a silly endearment in their household, that Steve is sometimes called the Shieldmaiden of Hawkins? ("I'm not a maiden, Eddie!" "I'm not calling you a shieldboy or shieldbachelor, Steve!") Then Steve feels a hint of something that he thought he'd renounced, but now, for the first time he feels it's deserved - pride.

[spiderfunkz]

HYUN-JU x TALKACTIVE!READER

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

author's note: this is so me.. i talk way too much so i'm lowkey just projecting myself on here. anyways, requests are open but i'm taking my time replying since i've been busy so just keep that in mind!

▸ hyun-ju is a good listener. a great one, even. she's got a big heart and soul, she's someone who is willing to listen to whatever you have to say. and she doesn't just listen, she tries to understand. which is a quality that is hard to find these days.

▸ you noticed it a bit later in your relationship. every time you talk, she listens and isn't afraid to ask questions regarding your situation or interest. she's genuinely invested in what you have to say. "oh, really? tell me more, hon."

▸ even if you just say random things or suggestions related to literally anything, she's all ears! whatever is going on in your head, every single sentence you utter, she's always nodding a long. she's probably wondering how you managed to say three sentences in a second.

▸ you tend to get very extroverted when you get comfortable. you'd ramble about anything for hours and hours, hyun-ju finds this adorable. she's definitely admiring you as you speak, your words always find a way to her heart.

▸ if you were talking about something she has no clue in, she's gonna research about it either online or in books so she could talk about it with you! even if small mistakes slip, her efforts show. and you appreciate that more than ever.

▸ "wait, you watched the movie and read the book?" — "yeah! i thought it would be nice to discuss it with you. you talked about it nonstop last week, so i figured i'd give it a look, and i must admit- you do have amazing taste."

▸ good moods mean you'd go on walks with hyun-ju and visit multiple parks at once. pointing out random birds, trees, and flower types. speaking whatever crossed your mind in specific moments.

▸ "oh look! a daisy. did you know daisies bloom in the spring like every other flower and their last bloom is in autumn? though, that's very common, um. ah! moon flowers, they only bloom one night a year." you'd giggle, "i did not know, but i do now!" hyun-ju smiles.

▸ during movies you can get very quiet. but as the movie ends, you'd ramble quicker than speed itself. "it's okay. at best. i just don't understand why the characters would do such things! i guess it is fictional, but still! does logic not exist in that universe?"

▸ same thing with books, you can read for hours in silence, but as soon as you close the book... "hyun! you must read this! not only is this one of a kind, but once you read it you can not put it down. i love it so much, it made me tear up a bit because of a character, but, um. okay, no spoilers!"

▸ hyun-ju could get really lost in your voice sometimes. you'd be talking about something silly like rocks or something, and she'd still be mesmerized. hyun-ju thinks that your voice could easily soothe her to sleep.

▸ and it's true, your voice makes her feel so safe. during conversations, she gets sudden realizations of how lucky she truly is. to be able to listen to you, in a calm setting, just the two of you.

▸ if you send her voice notes, she'd listen to it on repeat. especially when she's away or vice versa, she loves hearing your voice over and over as it gives ger comfort.

▸ "hey, hyun! i know you're really busy, and i know you only listen to my voice notes when you're done with work, so i ought to tell you about how much i love you. and how much i miss you. don't forget to tell me goodnight, or not the bed bugs might bite me."

▸ she would never think of your ongoing talks as unimportant. if you would suddenly pause and stop talking, she'd notice immediately. but hyun-ju always reassures you that it's perfectly okay.

▸ if you feel tired or off, and you just wanna be quiet for a bit, hyun-ju likes to ramble too, she does it a bit more often ever since she's met you. her voice is sleepy, her head lays near yours, your bed is cold and hyun-ju is the only source of warmth. as she traces your hands, "do you wanna know what happened earlier in the office?" you'd nod, she'd talk and only stop when you've completely fallen asleep.

▸ "and that's the end of it. goodnight, angel." she'd place a kiss on your forehead before falling asleep herself.