#My brain just really wouldn't let the first answer go

[green5quirrel]

What's that stuff used to preserve a body called?

My Brain: BioFreeze!

No, that's not it.

What's that—

MB: BIOFREEZE!

No...it's that liquid that they put in the corpse to keep the body—

BIOFREEZE!

[haveihitanerve]

Y’know those bare minimum or princess treatment videos that are popular rn?

Okay that- but with Bruce and his kids

And his kids just start getting increasingly more concerned when Bruce answers bare minimum for everything

The first time it’s funny, right- haha, Bruce, you fool, now I get to dunk your head in ice water because you think letting me fall asleep on top of you right before patrol knowingly to stop you from going out is bare minimum when in fact it’s princess treatment lol

But then it gets increasingly worrisome. 

The kids abandon the list, naming more and more absurd things they’ve done, or have watched Bruce let them do and they start getting concerned

Because is there anything Bruce wouldn't give them?

Steph: me, cass, barbara, ivy, lois, selina, and harley are all getting our hair and nails done and I need your credit card.  Bruce: of course, bare minimum, my girls get what they want.  Dick: you’ll pay an all expenses trip for me and the entirety of Young Justice anywhere we want in the world for a whole month and I don’t have to tell you anything about what we do or where we are? Bruce: as long as you stay safe, chum, I know you trust them and that’s great! Bonding trips are always fun, money is no problem. Bare minimum. Tim: you’d give me the Manor and move out because it’s the first real home I’ve had? Bruce: bare minimum, of course sweetheart, my bags are packed, i can sign it over to you in a second, once we finish playing.  Jason: letting me use you as a personal shield and then taking your blood because i have a flesh wound and need some more Bruce: *scoffs* of course! My cape is bullet proof and I will always shield you. My blood is your blood, we’re family. Bare minimum.

Listen, I ran out of really like desperate things they should ask him but you get the gist right?

Just Bruce giving himself up to them completely- all his money, his home, his gadgets, his lifeblood for them and calling it basic needs that he ought to give them just fucks with their brains a little and angst ensues or smth idk

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. a farewell letter to you . twisted wonderland

in which they talk about their future aspirations before you joke about crowley finding a way home for you. how would they react?

featuring : housewardens

cw: gn!reader, angst, can be read as platonic/romantic, might be ooc for vil(i rlly struggle writing for him omg), bad grammars, reader is yuu

a/n : based on this ask!! thank u for requesting this!! i really enjoy writing angst and was in the mood to do so, so this really makes my brain immediately work in one sitting lolol (～￣▽￣)～

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

when the topic of graduation is brought up, riddle is always the first one to answer. he already made plans since he was a child—courtesy of his mother. his mother told him that he should be a strong medical mage, just like her.

yet, after spending two years in nrc acting as heartslabyul's housewarden, he's developed an interest in law.

"i think that there are many things that i don't know of to be so sure that i want to become a medical mage. i'd like to explore other options, too, like being an attorney. but i'll have to speak to my mother about it first ..." he sighs, before finally looking at you.

"what about you, name? surely you also have something you want to do in the future. would you like to pursue higher education? or just work right after you graduate? i recommend you go into higher education, though."

you laugh at his question, as if your answer is so obvious that even the dumbest student wouldn't ask. "what about me? well, i'll probably leave before i get to graduate. crowley's probably tired of me being here, haha!"

oh, he completely forgot about that. he forgot that you are not from this world, and that one day you'll be leaving him and whatever problems you have in this school.

... scratch that, riddle never forgets. he remembers—he just refuses to acknowledge it, and has been doing so for the past six months. time flies by so fast when you're spending it with your loved ones, it seems.

he would love to ask you to stay, or even pray to whoever so that crowley will take longer finding a way for you to go back home. but of course he can't do that, he's not that desperate anyways.

"... right. i apologize for asking such an obvious question."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

"i'll go take up that internship to the sunset savannah." he smirks, showing his paper to you. "what's with that look? obviously i'm gonna take it, or else they're not gonna let me graduate at all after this. besides, not like they're gonna give a low grade to the prince, right?"

but of course he has a reason to choose something that he doesn't normally do. damn royals, you thought to yourself. he laughs when he sees your disgusted look, waving the paper in your face mockingly.

"heh, jealous you can't do that? well, that's alright, this prince can give you a few internship recommendations so even a herbivore like you can pass easily." he stops waving the paper, finally sitting down on the chair across yours.

it's your turn to laugh after he said that. "huh? what's so funny?" he scowls, looking at you like a lion ready to feast. "you know i'll leave this place before i even get to graduate, right? there's no need for you to give me recommendations, haha!"

he knows. there's no need to remind him of something that'll eventually happen, because he doesn't need to hear it from your own mouth.

he'd rather deal with the loneliness when it comes—not now, not while you're still here. he just wants to enjoy the times he gets to spend with you before you literally disappear completely.

"... shut the hell up. i'll still tell you about this, you might need it in your world or somethin'."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

azul, just like riddle, has already made plans for the future. he wants to show everyone back at home that even an 'ink-spewing crybaby' like him can become something in the world. not just to them, but to himself, too.

so naturally, whenever the topic of graduation is brought up, azul likes to boast a little (just a little) about his future aspirations. "well, seeing that the mostro lounge is already so successful even before i bring it to the outside world, i would probably go into business or something connected to finance in the future."

he would then look at you, asking about what you'll do in the future. "prefect, i am sure that someone as wonderful as you would already have something in mind, right? what would you like to do in the future? become a teacher? or maybe, you'd like to assist me in business?"

you laugh at his attempt to rope you into another one of his schemes. "pfft—nope, i won't be scammed anymore! besides, it's not like i'll graduate here. crowley will probably find a way home faster than i could pass any classes." you reply jokingly.

right, you're not from this world. and he remembers too, of course. no, he doesn't feel sad about it or anything. he has tons of connection on sage's island, he doesn't really feel lonely if one of them disappears.

but you're not simply 'one of them'. you were a good friend, and now a part of his loved ones. he can't just deny that fact so blatantly. yet, for some reason, he can't bring himself to say that to you.

"ah, but of course! how could i be so forgetful?"

KALIM AL-ASIM

kalim is one of the many people who feels indecisive about his future. sure, he has a wealthy family and he would probably inherit his father's wealth or leadership capabilities. it's just that, kalim doesn't know what he wants to be.

he wants to do something that he can do by himself without much help from others. "ah, i don't know ... i'm so confused about all of this! maybe i'll become a doctor? urgh, but that doesn't sound right for me ..."

he'd ask others around him what they want to be in the future, including you. "nameeee! oh, thank goodness ... i finally found you!" you almost had a heart attack when he approaches you, looking all sweaty and out of breath.

"sorry ... for scaring you. uh, i just wanna ask, what do you want to be in the future? you know, after you graduate!" well, that was a rather direct question. you snort, making him look at you like a deer caught in the headlights. "why would you ask me? you know i won't graduate from here, right? i'll probably go home before i graduate, haha!"

oh. right. he immediately feels stupid for forgetting that you're not from this world. he would stand up straight, and look at you in the eyes, before tears started to fall from his eyes. "woah, k-kalim, what's wrong?!"

"hiks, sorry ... i shouldn't have asked that question, now it's made me all sad ..." he wipes the tears from his face using his hands. "i completely forgot that you're not from here ... but i wish i can change it somehow. i'm sorry ..."

kalim can't bring himself to accept the fact that you'll leave someday.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

vil is someone who already has his future planned. he knows what he'll be, and he doesn't spend his free time boasting about it with others. he doesn’t need to say it—everyone already knows he’ll enter the entertainment industry.

but when he looks at you, he can't figure out what you'll become after you graduate. which brings the two of you to this conversation. "yes, i'll join the entertainment industry. i already have some job offers, too. so it was not that hard for me to choose which internship i'll go to."

you nod, although you already expected his answer, you still find it cool and admirable that he can do something so grand at the age of eighteen. your train of thoughts were cut off when vil asks, "what about you? what will you become after you graduate?"

you laugh, and he raises an eyebrow. "well, it's not like i'll graduate from here anyways, right? crowley's gonna find a way for me to go home before i even get to reach the second year. probably." he scoffs quietly before continuing.

"well, that's obvious enough. but are you not gonna continue your education back in your world?" now that's a new one. you never really thought about what you'll do after you come back to your world.

you don't even know if your family thinks you're alive. "i don't know, i'll probably continue studying and pursue a higher education ... or maybe go to work immediately?"

"hmph, you're still a first year. you have many things coming in the future, so just focus on your studies." he replies sternly. he quickly masks the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but the faint twitch of his mouth betrays a wish for more time together before he graduates.

IDIA SHROUD

idia is a genius. he already received a job offer from olympus, the hardest company to get a job offer from, days before the internship assembly for the third years even started.

he's the type to not make small chats about people's future. heck, he doesn't even chat that much with people outside of you and ortho. but when you came barging into his room asking about his internship, he can't help but share a little.

"uh, w-well, i already got a job offer from olympus ... also, could you please NOT barge into my room so suddenly? you're gonna make me reboot myself out of crippling shock someday." he glares at you, making you laugh.

"hehe, sorry about that. but i heard that it's pretty hard to get a job offer from olympus, so that's pretty cool!" you grin, noticing the ends of his hair turns into a faint shade of pink. "umm, well, this is for research purposes but, w-what'll you do after you graduate?"

"me? well, not like i'm gonna graduate here anyways, hehe. so i don't know." he pauses after you said that. that's it, huh? he’s going to lose yet another friend, after working so hard just to get close to you, huh?

why's it always gotta end that way whenever he tries to make contact with anyone? ortho was enough, he doesn't need to lose you too. fate is such a cruel thing. he silently wishes his plans in the island of woe had worked. er, not really.

he laughs awkwardly at your reply. "oh. right. sorry 'bout that."

MALLEUS DRACONIA

he overblots immediately

jk sorry

malleus is not familiar with how the human world operates, being a nocturnal fae himself. so he was pretty confused by the fact that he was supposed to learn something from an internship in just three months. that's like three days for him.

so, he went to your dorm, hoping to learn something valuable from a human like you. "child of man, i was tasked to fill out this form for my internship, but i do not understand how we're supposed to learn anything in just three months. could you please enlighten me?"

you then sat him down on your couch, telling him that time flows differently for fae and humans. three months might seem short, but for humans, it’s enough to learn much. "you are right, i apologize for being so ignorant about our differences. hmm, i am curious though. what would you do after you graduate?"

"me? well, i'll probably leave before i graduate. not like i'm gonna stay here forever, right? hehe." you laugh, making him go silent. he almost completely forgets that you come from another place, and that someday you would leave him behind in this world.

he clenches his fist in quiet devastation. then, a thunder strike was heard from outside your window, signaling an upcoming storm. "woah, there's gonna be a storm happening. is it okay for you to stay here? uh, but i guess you can just teleport back, right?"

your voice is muffled due to the rain, mixing together with the background noises. malleus is angry, but is mostly sad that he'll be alone yet again. he's already feeling sad enough by the fact that lilia will leave this school soon, but now you'll also leave?

"...leus? malleus?" he snaps out of his thoughts when you wave your hand in front of his face. "are you okay?" you ask him, and he only chuckles at your question. "... yes, i'm alright. i apologize for scaring you, i shall leave now." he immediately teleported out of your dorm after that.

you tilt your head curiously, questions like, "why was he acting like that?" filled your head. unbeknownst to you, blot has already begun to seep into his magic pen.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I think cnc Tumblr porn helped me understand consent better. Like coercion is a brand of cnc, so when I noticed my partner said "I think" instead of yes, and arms pulled away even though other parts were responding, it reminded me of coercion cnc, which lead to a stop and discussion. I might be a bit of a horny fuck, (nothing wrong with that, just inconvenient right now), but is there a way to turn down arousal/libido? Depression, stress, and relationship issues seem to be the big ones on Google, but. Um. Yeah. I'm also worried that things I wouldn't put much weight in could be coercion. Like if I ask about sex they'll feel a time limit on when they have to say yes, or cuddling with them while asking will pressure them towards saying yes.

hi anon,

I'm gonna say first and foremost. let's maybe work on starting a new paragraph when we introduce a new idea. because some of these swerves hit like trucks and you gotta warn a bitch.

anyway, let's talk about it!

no, there's not a reliable way to decrease your libido. that happens to a lot of people via mental or physical health problems and stress, as you noted, as well as in response to some medications or other things that cause hormonal shifts. it's not really something that can be purposefully induced, no matter how irksome being horny may be. life is a series of annoyances.

re: your thoughts on coercion - listen, man, you're going down a bad rabbit hole here. do we want to follow this thought to its logical conclusion? then asking for anything is coercion, because it places pressure on the other person to say yes or risk disappointing you.

when my wife asks me if I want to watch an episode on Once Upon a Time with dinner, he really wants me to say yes even though OUAT sucks so bad that it makes my brain hurt. sometimes I say yes, because I'm in a good mood and I like to make him happy and also because I post OUAT recaps on patreon and I need that sweet sweet #content. but other times I say no! and that's okay with both of us, because I know my wife is a big girl who can handle not always getting exactly what he wants and he knows that I'm not saying no because I hate him or because I think he was being an inconsiderate asshole for asking. and, most importantly, when I say yes he knows I'm not doing that because I feel pressured to say yes but because I'm genuinely fine with it.

if you ask about almost anything there's an expectation to answer eventually. it's entirely reasonable that you would be thinking about sex while cuddling and present the option. if you don't feel that you can trust your partner to say no when they don't really want to do something, then that's something you need to talk about with them! but there also comes a point when you have to believe someone when they say yes rather than perpetually second guessing them.

[spiderb00bs]

- Deer protector

Lottie Matthews x reader  

“Something bad was about to happen, and the only thing you knew for sure was that you wouldn't be able to protect your girlfriend forever” 

Genre – fluff/angst     Warnings – none

part 1 | part 2

Now playing – Dark Red, by Steve Lacy 

“Only you, my girl. Only you, baby. Only you, darling. Only you.” 

Your muscles burned, as did your eyes, your stomach seemed to wrap up even more with every step you took, and you had a few scratches on your arms from the night's adventure. Your brain doesn't remember everything, just flashes through your head. People, Coach Ben, rescue, going home, axe, dead guy, Lottie.

Lottie.

You didn't know how your girlfriend was, you couldn't take a look at her, not when Shauna pulled you violently, threatening you and making you chase the man who had shot Melissa. The last thing you saw was Lottie on the floor, her hands bloodied, admiring and adoring the work she had done. You never felt afraid of your girlfriend, but you also couldn't lie and say that you didn't feel afraid of how you would have to deal with the consequences of her actions.

You and Lottie started dating at the beginning of high school, you really love that girl with all your heart. You know all the traumas, flaws and problems the brown-eyed girl has been through, and you swore you would never leave her. And you meant it. You took responsibility for every little thing your girlfriend did, you never let any of the girls cross the line with Lottie, and you were on high alert with the girl - especially after the violent episode with Shauna.

You were tired, exhausted, but you wouldn't leave Lottie behind for a second. You knew everything, while for the others Lottie was just a crazy girl, you knew that your girlfriend was just an innocent girl who was left to die by the universe without her medication. You knew that things were deeper than they seemed, with Lottie, with her parents, with her mind, with everything.

As your feet stepped into the camp, you heard Mari barking something cruel at Lottie, the girl lowering her head and muttering something you couldn't understand. Looking sideways, her brown eyes landed on you, a slight smile forming on her face as she approached you, smearing blood on your hand in a firm grip.

"Are you angry?" was the first thing she asked. Without the strength to answer, you just shook your head, pulling the girl towards the makeshift hut you shared.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Lottie followed you, like a child follows its mother down an unfamiliar path. You didn't even bother to respond to Mari's sarcastic comment, and if you'd been more observant, you could have seen the look of envy on Melissa's face. Shauna was nowhere in sight.

"Sit down." Grabbing some old cloths, and a bucket of water, you set to work, tenderly wiping your girlfriend's hands and face.

God, you were tired, you were destroyed, all you longed for was to be able to go home, all you wanted was for none of this to have happened. But when you looked into Lottie's eyes, you remembered why you had never given up, why you had come so far through all this hell.

"Baby…" A hot tear ran down your cheek, Lottie's voice making you break your mask. "Baby, are you crying? Are you hurt?"

Searching your body for bruises, Lottie's hands stained your skin and clothes with the walker's blood. Sobs escaped you, and your girlfriend's hands grabbed you, pulling you close and hugging you. The brunette's eyes searched the hut for something, anything, it was almost as if she was looking for something to distract you from what you were feeling.

Sniffling, you lifted your head from Lottie's chest, pulling away from the girl's embrace. "It's okay, baby." Wiping away your tears, you snorted slightly, seeing that you were now covered in blood too.

"You understand that he didn't belong here, don't you?" You could feel Lottie's eyes on you. Raising your head, you looked into her eyes, raising your hand and stroking her cheek. "It would come between us. Between our future, they'll ruin our house, baby."

"Baby, you know that wasn't right." Your voice comes out in a light tone, almost a whisper, and you rise from your kneeling position only to sit down next to your girlfriend on the makeshift mattress.

Lottie's eyes follow your every move, and you swore you'd go weak from the way she was looking at you. Those sweet, innocent eyes, almost making you forget that she had killed someone with an axe a few hours ago.

"No one will stand between us." You grabbed her hand, Lottie's fingers intertwining firmly with yours, almost as if you were going to run away from her. "I love you."

Smiling at you, Lottie leaned in, kissing your lips gently, as if you were going to break. Her lips tasted metallic, and you fought not to pull away from the kiss, knowing it would hurt her.

"I love you." She whispered into your lips, a small smile on her face as she grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into an intense kiss.

You knew you couldn't protect Lottie forever, maybe you were even making the whole situation worse by protecting her like this. But you couldn't help it, you love the girl with all your heart, and if she asked you to die here with her, you'd accept without question.

Hello everyone, I hope you're well. I'm too inspired to write about YJ, so I'm just leaving it here.

I have a sequel to this, in the adult timeline, cause I love Lottie in any timeline. Blah blah blah, she's my love, I'm not accepting arguments.

my shayla 😭😭😭

drink water and be safe,

xoxo, spider.

[castielthinkr]

BE MY BABY

bob reynolds x fem!reader cw thunderbolts* new avengers spoilers, inspired by prompt 7 of this post, bob is an anxious mess, reader implied to be on the younger side of the team

bob reynolds has been avoiding you.

at first you thought he might have just been having some sort of anxious episode, avoiding the whole team, but you catch him sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with yelena, and know it's just you.

it hurts, in a way. the two of you had been close since the whole void incident, and not having him by your side is beginning to get to you. your heart hurts every time you see him - or, rather, don't see him.

things come to a head when you get cornered by bucky of all people. he’s noticed that things are tense, that you’re withdrawing into yourself.

“talk to me,” he says, sitting next to you out of nowhere. “talk to you?” “something’s wrong. talk to me.” you sigh. no matter how much you try to deflect, you know he won’t give up. you’ve seen the same thing happen with yelena (and john, of all people).

“bob’s avoiding me,” you mutter. “i know,” bucky says. you furrow your brows. “you know?” “it’s not exactly hard to see.” you sigh. again. “i don’t know what to do.” "i can't really help you, kiddo," he says, his voice a little quieter. almost guilty. you bristle at the nickname but don't try to correct him. he never lets up. "i know. s'okay."

except, it's not okay. now that bucky knows, yelena somehow knows, and john knows, and ava, and alexei, and pretty soon it's gotten back to bob that you're well aware that he's avoiding you and that you're upset about it and you're both freaking out.

he comes to you, one day, practically vibrating with anxious energy. you don't even realise he's there at first, having become accustomed to his evasion tactics. he notices.

he clears his throat, and you look up from where you're reading in a corner. in one of his usual spots, he realises. "i'm, uh... i'm sorry." you blink. sorry? "what?" "i'm sorry," he repeats. "yeah, no, i heard you. just... what?" bob sighs a little, fidgeting with his hands. "i'm sorry for avoiding you. it was immature."

you stay quiet for a moment, your brain needing to catch up. weeks of silence, and now this?

"okay... why did you do it?" you ask, not sure whether you actually want the answer. "it's stupid. you don't— you probably don't want to know—“ "bob." "yes?" "just tell me," you say, your voice a little softer now.

he sighs, squeezing his hands together and rubbing them against each other every which way. he murmurs something, and you don't quite catch it. he knows. he clears his throat again and speaks up.

"i have... feelings for you," he says quickly, almost quick enough that you don't catch it. "you... what?" you ask, not sure whether you heard him right. "i have feelings for you. like, romantic feelings. and i thought that avoiding you would make them go away but it hasn't--" "why did you want to make them go away?"

his head snaps up, nervous eyes meeting yours. "what?" "why did you want to make them go away?" you repeat, gentler this time. "'cause, i mean... i just thought..." "you thought i wouldn't feel the same?" you ask. he nods.

"okay, just... stop, for a second. stop everything," you instruct. he does. "i find it so insanely stupid that you think for one second that i'm not completely and utterly head over heels for your oblivious ass."

that makes him pause. "you... what? head over heels?" "yes!" you say, a little exasperated. "i have been since you appeared out of nowhere in that incinerator." "oh," he says quietly, "wow."

he sits next to you, rather ungracefully hitting the floor with a small oof. the two of you sit in silence for a while, revelling in your new discoveries.

"so," he says after a long moment of quiet, "completely and utterly head over heels, huh?" you swat his arm. "shut up. but yes." he leans his head on your shoulder, and your cheek comes to rest on the top of his head. "what does this mean?" he asks quietly, that nervous energy back in his voice again. "whatever you want it to mean. but i want something with you."

he lifts his head. "i want to do this right. take you out, and stuff. i know it might be hard with this... life we lead... but i want to try." "okay," you smile, "yeah. that sounds... that sounds really nice."

it only takes him three days to take you on a date. it's awkward, but it's so quintessentially bob that you don't mind.

bucky gets a full rundown from the two of you - separately - and groans, but internally, he's happy for you both, happy that someone in your little ragtag team is finding some enjoyment in life. finally.

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ assistance | sam winchester x reader

a/n - not for kinktober just a fic i wanted to get out!! i’m unsure whether i like the dialogue on this im sorry if it sucks i feel i can never write dirty talk right *sobs* but i really hope you enjoy!!! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2k, nsfw 18+, phone sex, mutual masturbation, kind of softdom!sam, long distance, fluff, comfort, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was later than he’d liked by the time he finally got back to the motel. With muscles that ached from the day’s strain, brain fogged from how tired he was, Sam honestly just wanted to call his girlfriend and talk to her until he fell asleep.

He’d meant to text her a couple of hours prior to let her know the hunt was dragging on longer than expected, but his phone had fucking died when he and Dean were two hours into their trek into the woods to find the pack of werewolves they were hunting, and he’d been pretty miserable ever since.

Dean had disappeared off to the nearest bar after dropping Sam off at their room so he thankfully had the place to himself to mope around as he plugged his phone into the charger and showered whilst he waited for it to get some power. The shitty water pressure and barely lukewarm water did nothing for his aching back, so he was even more agitated by the time he got himself settled onto the uncomfortable mattress twenty minutes later, hair wet and skin still damp beneath his clothes with his eagerness to call her.

As much as he hated being away from her for so long, and too often, it was the safest thing to do. Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to her because she was too close to his shit. He still had dreams about Jess, about how that was all his fault. He couldn’t let it happen again.

His phone hadn’t even reached twenty percent but he was impatient and shuffled over to the edge of the bed so the phone cord would reach and held the phone to his ear as he called her, propped himself up against the headboard.

The phone didn’t even ring twice before she answered.

“Sam?”

“Hey, baby.” The words came out in an exhale, most of the tension left him just at the sound of her voice, the ache seeping out of his bones like a relief. It was what kept him sane whenever he was away. Her picture in his wallet, her hair tie on his wrist, her voice in his ear.

“Hi, Sammy. Got worried when you didn’t call on time.”

He winced at the thought. She worried for him, of course she did. Sam understood how horrible it must have felt for her, knowing what he was going off to do. He could only imagine the dread that must’ve curled inside of her whenever he was late calling. Too many things had happened in the past, too many things could still go wrong.

“Sorry, my phone died when we were still out, didn’t get back until way later than I thought,” he groaned, sank down the headboard a little to stretch out on the bed. The agitation still hadn’t quite left him, the stiffness in his muscles prominent. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with her in his arms and he couldn’t have it. “Miss you, honey.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded, “Missed you more. Wish you were here, it’s cold at night without you in bed too.”

He snorted a quiet laugh. “That’s why you miss me?”

“Mhm,” she giggled, though her voice turned a little coy as she murmured, “among other reasons.”

“Yeah?” An automatic smile was curling at his mouth.

Another little giggle through the receiver. He didn’t even need to see her to know that she had that little bashful smile on her face. He also knew exactly what was on her mind, it was on his too.

It wasn’t the first time they’d have done this. He was on the road so often that their sex life wasn’t as amazing as it could have been, and it wasn’t like he didn’t pleasure himself when he was away on hunts anyways.

There had been many many evenings he’d spent in the shower, hot water rolling down his back as he had one hand pressed to the tiled wall whilst the other pumped his cock until his cum was washed down the drain along with his shampoo bubbles. It wasn’t ideal — bottom lip tucked between his teeth to stifle the heaving breaths and quiet groans, trying to get off as fast as he could before the hot water could run out or Dean could get back to the room. It was even worse when it became a result of having her on the phone. There had been many occasions where her soft voice and giggles in his ear had been enough to get him hard, on nights when he was really missing her and it had just been too long since he’d kissed her.

It turned out she did the same as him. Though when Sam pictured it, it was a lot more graceful than his time in the shower. Laid out all pretty on their bed, legs spread, fingers wet with her own arousal as her head tipped back against the pillows. Sometimes if he got a little selfish he pictured her voice all whimpery saying his name as she came, but he couldn’t get lost in that daydream often, or he’d get hard over that, too.

“Miss you,” she breathed again, and the shift in her tone was palpable. “I… I tried touching myself earlier but I couldn’t cum without you on the phone.”

The groan that left him was automatic and his cock throbbed, hardening beneath the material of his boxers. The idea that she couldn’t even get off without his voice in her ear did wonders for him, it was a wonder his ego wasn’t too big already.

“You need my help, honey?” He crooned into the phone, settled into the tone of voice he knew she liked to hear, the voice he used more often than not when he was whispering in her ear, hips slotted between her thighs, rolling in a rhythm that left her whiney and panting.

Her soft little “mhm” was enough for him to move his other hand down and palm himself, hissing in a breath through his teeth.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, pretty girl. Wanna tell me what you’re wearing?”

There was the rustling of sheets over the phone before her voice spoke up again, “Just one of your shirts.”

Another groan. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

She giggled and his cock twitched beneath his palm. Jesus Christ he needed to get back to her, he needed her in person, to sate the need that wouldn’t be doused thoroughly enough over the phone.

“Go ahead and spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he breathed, palming his cock again as he spoke, eyes squeezing shut as his head knocked back against the headboard. “Did you get yourself all worked up earlier, hm? Are you all soaked already?”

There was another hum, though he could hear the way her breathing had deepened, deep and heavy in his ear. He could picture the tickle of her breath on his face, the shape of her lips, the taste of her mouth after she’d just brushed her teeth. He needed her.

“Why don’t you start touching yourself for me?” He murmured, voice low with his arousal. Her resounding moan was enough for his cock to throb again and his hand finally dipped beneath his waistband, freeing himself with a quiet groan.

“Are you touching yourself too?” She whimpered, and it was a miracle he didn’t just cum there and then.

“Yeah,” his hand lifted and he tipped his head down to spit into his palm, groaning softly the next time he pumped his cock. “Yeah I am, dolly. Your pretty voice got me all worked up— fuck.” He breathed out the word between his teeth. He was already leaking pre-cum, thumbing over the head of his cock in a move that made him shudder, though it felt nice when she did it. Stroked his cock with her pretty hands, her pretty lips that wrapped around his head when she was on her knees for him, licking along the length of his dick in a way that always made him weak in the knees.

She moaned again and his hips jerked, rutting into his hand with a filthy groan. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

She whimpered, and Sam felt another dribble of pre-cum slide down the length of his cock. “Good— mm, good, j’st—” she took in a shaky breath, “feels better when it’s you, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” He grunted, pumping his cock just a little faster. “Why’s that, dolly?”

“Bigger hands,” she breathed. “longer fingers.”

Sam moaned, the idea of his fingers nestled deep in her wet heat enough for his cock to throb in his hand, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. But from the sounds of her pretty little whimpers, neither would she. “Can’t fill that pretty pussy up as nice as I can, hm?” He took in a shuddering breath. “Play with your clit for me, sweetheart.”

He could hear the moment she did, the sharp inhale, the whimpery moan, the rustling of the sheets as she, undoubtedly, spread her legs wider. “Oh god, Sammy—”

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

All he got in response was a high-pitched “uh-huh.”

“That’s it— shit, that’s it, baby,” he panted, pumping his cock faster, moaning softly as his head arched back. “Go on, dolly, make some pretty sounds for me as you cum, won’t you? M’gonna cum just thinking about you making such a mess of yourself, c’mon, baby—” he was practically begging between sharp breaths.

It only took a moment before he heard her sharp inhale and the whine that followed, and all it took was a few more quick ruts into his hand and the sounds of her before he groaned her name, toes curled and eyelids scrunched as he came. He could feel the evidence of his orgasm dribbling down his cock and his fingers as he shucked a few more times, hissing through his teeth as he finally stopped.

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathed, panting, not unlike her heavy breaths into the phone. “You sounded so fucking pretty, honey. That feel good for you?”

She took a shuddery breath and hummed again. “Yeah, thanks baby.”

Sam couldn’t help the breathy chuckle. “Don’t need to thank me,” he murmured. “M’always gonna take care of my girl, even if I’m not there. You made quite a mess of me, too.”

She breathed a laugh, and a moment passed of just their shared breathing as they both calmed down. Sam’s cock had softened completely against his abdomen, and he’d have to change his clothes and have another shower, but fuck was it worth it.

“I’ll be on my way back to you tomorrow,” he promised once his breathing had mostly evened out. “Should be with you before dinner, then you get me all to yourself.”

She yawned into the phone before mumbling, “Good, want you back to me as soon as possible.”

The sound of her so sleepy just left him so soft. “I promise I will be,” he breathed. “Why don’t you get some sleep, okay honey? I’ll call you in the morning when we’re on the road.”

“Okay,” her voice had completely softened, coated in a sickly-sweet fondness that left him putty in her hands. “I love you. Get back to me safe, okay?”

“I always do,” Sam smiled. “I love you too. Night, gorgeous.”

She yawned her own goodbye before the line went dead, and he let the phone drop back down onto the mattress with a heavy breath.

Just one more day, then he could have her in person, help her in all the ways he wanted to on the phone.

[petrichoravis]

So professional. | s.r.

★ read PART TWO here.

summary: when the team finally has a break through in a case that seemed endless and you and Spencer are assigned to search an abandoned laboratory together, old feeling come to the surface.

word count: 7,3k (it got away from me, sorryyy)

what to expect: ex!spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, kinda like lovers to "enemies" to ??, a lot!! of banter, morgan calls r 'doll', 'princess' and 'sugar', criminal minds typical violence; torture, shooting, gunshot wound, parental/domestic abuse (abusive father/husband), hyporeflexia (the absence of reflexes), medical inaccuracies? I’m sure, English is not my first language.

a/n: aaaa this is so far out of my comfort zone!! I hope you’ll enjoy this while I’ll go into hiding🙈🙈

────── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

This case was endless until it wasn't. Until everything happened so quickly, all at once.

All of the victims had been burned to the point that the ME couldn't figure out the cause of death, until Eleven year old Amilie Porter was found on the side of the road by a passerby.

She had been cold and traumatised and wouldn't speak to anyone, so they brought her to the hospital, who alerted the police that then called you. The BAU.

Now, Spencer and JJ were crouching next to her hospital bed to seem less intimidating. Everything was going great, she wasn't speaking, but engaged in the conversation by nodding or shaking her head to their questions.

Until Amilie accidentally grabbed the mug of hot tea JJ handed her by the burning hot part, but instead of flinching she just held it there, as if it wasn't burning her fingers.

"Woah, hey hey hey!" Spencer took the cup from her before any more damage could be done. "Careful, that's still hot."

But his squeaked comment only made Amilie retreated into herself.

"Sorry, I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Did—" he frowned, he wasn't been sure how to ask her what he wanted to ask, given that she was eleven and still in shock.

"Did you not feel how hot that was?" He asked gently.

Amilie only nodded.

"Yes, you didn't feel how hot it was?"

She shook her head.

"So…you felt it, but didn't pull back?" He was trying his best not to come across as too impatient, keeping his voice low and soft.

He went on as she agreed to the question, "Let me ask you this, Amilie. Did—did the bad man do this?"

When Amilie nodded her head in answer to his question, Spencer glanced up at JJ, nodding as well. He could tell Amilie was exhausted and needed rest, his questions were probably not helping much.

He didn't blame her for being unresponsive, what happened to her must have been enough to traumatise a person with a fully developed brain. He could only calculate what damage it had done and will do to her life.

JJ's voice brought him back into the glaringly white hospital room. "Thank you, Amilie, you helped us very much. We're going to call the nice nurse back in, okay?"

She took Amilie's turning away from them as a yes and they made their way to the reception desk. After they were sure that the nurse was on her way, they walked back to the car.

"What did you see?" She asked him as they walked out of the hospital, onto the parking lot. Sirens were coming from every direction, so they had to speak a little louder.

"Wait—can you drive? I'll call the team." Spencer said, already pulling out his phone and dialling the first contact.

Which, unfortunately, was you.

"Reid? What did she say?" Your voice was usually distant, as if you were scared that letting any emotion into you voice would break the dam.

He pressed a hand over his ear to hear you better.

You see, when you and Spencer got together, you had to promise Hotch that you would stay professional when you would break up. A great prophecy for the rest of your relationship, right? Having to talk about your hypothetical breakup on the first official day of your relationship.

Both of you really tried to stay professional, but working with an ex was hard enough, working with an ex you haven't really talked it out with was harder.

"I think he might be torturing the victims until they loose their reflexes." He clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unlocked the car door, holding it open for JJ, handing her the keys and getting into the passenger seat after she was securely in the car.

"Hyporeflexia? Do you—wait let me put you on speaker." There was shuffling on the other side of the phone. "You have Hotch and I. Do you know how he does it?"

"No. I have theories, but nothing concrete. There are a few ways to accomplish the absence of reflexes, drugs like K779 or Leuprorelin, for example. But I doubt he is using a drug, it would have shown up on the toxicology report and the chances of these drugs causing Hyporeflexia are too slim."

"What's your guess?" Hotch piped up.

"Well I think he might be damaging their nervous system. You see, motor neutrons send messages between the spinal cord and brain. Collectively they send messages to the rest of your body to control muscle movements. It's possible that the UnSub is damaging the sensory nerves, spinal cord or motor nerves to cause hyporeflexia." He rambled off the facts and you could practically see the wild gesturing of his hands.

"How is the girl?" You asked.

"She's quiet, but in good hands," he reassured you. "She'll be okay in no time."

"Are you on your way back?" Hotch asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes. We're driving to you now."

"Drive safely." You said, purely for performance purposes.

"I'm not driving." He replied dryly.

"That's why it was meant for JJ."

"She always drives safely." You tried not to roll your eyes as Spencer just hung up.

Being professional when the person you used to plan your future with was now your worst enemy was hard. And while you might spite him a lot, you were sad about it more than you were angry.

But anger always came easier to you than admitting to yourself and him that the break up really hurt you, that you want nothing more than to be friends if you couldn't have him as a partner. You wanted to hold him in your arms again, to fall asleep to his heartbeat every night.

You couldn't tell anyone that, of course, your pride would be in shambles.

So you took a deep breath and turned back to Hotch.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

When Spencer and JJ got back to Quantico the team reassembled for the briefing. Everyone shared their thoughts and theories and Spencer explained what had happened at the hospital.

"Um…I know that there is a poison called curare, it's won from various plants and causes paralysis by binding to the acetylcholine receptor of the junction where two nerve cells dock together and therefore prevents nerve impulses from activating skeletal muscles. Could it be something like that?" You asked into the room.

Spencer was quiet for a moment and you're unsure whether he was impressed by your knowledge or just thinking really hard about the possibilities. "Well, we obviously can't tell because the bodies are burnt. But it's unlikely that he is using curare, given that Amilie wasn't paralysed, but developed Hyporeflexia."

Never mind, he was just thinking of a polite way to say, you're so far from the point, stupid.

"Right. So what do you think?" You almost added oh almighty! but were able to stop yourself. Because you're professional.

"As I already said," he gave you a look, "he is probably damaging the nervous system."

"Right, sorry. I meant, how is he doing that?" You had been able to sound so unfazed until this moment.

"I don't know," he frowned at you, as if his answer was obvious (you would like to state that it was not), "or I would have shared it already."

The team was nice enough not to comment on your little dispute, but it's clear that it was getting on their nerves. Especially Hotch, who was looking more stoic than usual, Morgan was finding it more amusing than anything.

"I'll get Garcia to search for similar occurrences in the area." You said quickly, already hurrying out of the room and away from the pending lecture.

Spencer watched you scurry off with a sinking feeling in his gut.

He didn't know why he bitt like a wounded dog every time the two of you spoke. He would like to think that it was because he just genuinely didn't like you anymore, but he knew that wasn't true. Hating you would be easier than this.

On the other side of the office, you ripped open door of Penelope Garcia's office and slammed it closed behind you, leaning back against it with a heavy sigh.

Penelope startled upright, turning her swivel chair to look at you with wide eyes. "Well, hello. Are you alright?"

"No," you whined dramatically. "All of this is so incredibly fucking fucked."

"Oh, love," she patted the place next to her. "He, who shall not be named again?"

You nodded, slumping into the chair. "He's just so—I just feel so…ugh. All we do is spite each other. When will this get easier?"

She looks at you with so much pity, you can't stand it. "I'm not going to tell you that it will pass with time, because, well…" She gave you a look that said nothing less than because you're quite dramatic, over the rim of her glasses.

While you huffed in response, you couldn't quite find a good argument that spoke against her unspoken statement, so your mouth stayed closed. But you didn't refrain from sending her a glare.

"What?" She asked innocently, if anything about Penelope Garcia can ever be called innocent.

You gave her a look. "Constructive criticism? Didn't we just talk about that?"

"I didn't even say anything! It's not my fault that you interpreted something into my very lovely face."

You decided that this was totally fruitless, your fault for thinking that you had a friend in her. "Can you look into past histories of people with hyporeflexia? Anything you can find. People who have been diagnosed with it in the past…let's say fifteen years, suspicious reports of it, someone being especially interested in it, maybe a lot of it happening in one area. You know the drill."

"Yep, totally, ma chère. One sec." She turned her chair towards the computer screen and began working her magic.

After what feels like three seconds—thank God for Penelope's speed on the keyboard and swift fingers—she piped up, "Hyporeflexia is quite a rare official diagnosis, so I cross referenced it with torture or unnatural causes and I found," a few more mouse clicks. "…a Theodore Wilson, who has been in and out of the hospital for severe burns and bruises a lot when he was young."

Frowning, you lean over Penelope's shoulder to look at the screen. "And that's relevant because…?"

"That, my gorgeous girl," she booped your nose with her fluffy pen and you scrunched your nose. "Is because they look suspiciously similar to our victims and…" She paused for dramatic effect. "Theodore's father was a biochemist best known for his research on Hyporeflexia."

You frown deepened. "Is his father still alive?"

A few clicks later, Penelope replied, "Nope." She popped the p. "He died last month, but Theo's mother still lives in Virginia."

"If we consider Theodore a suspect, his father's passing could have been the stressor. Thank you, Pen. Could you—"

"The address is sent to your phone." She smiled up at you as you got up and walked towards the door. "But don't think our talk about you-know-who is over!" She sing-songs just before you could leave.

You rolled your eyes. The nicknames were getting excessive.

"I can't hear you!" You called back just before closing the door behind you.

You froze when you turned and saw the team gathered in the bullpen area. "Um," you glanced at Spencer for just a millisecond to see how much he has heard, but his face seemed impassive. Looking back at your unit chief, you continued, "Penelope found a lead."

Hotch nodded for you to continue and you made your way closer to the group. Recognition flickered across Spencer's face at the name Don Wilson, but he said nothing as you continued to explain what Penelope found.

"Penelope send the address of his mother to me already." You said as you finished.

"Do you think he might be the first victim or the UnSub?" Hotch asked.

"Possibly both. That's what I'd like to find out by talking to the mother." You replied, taking the last steps towards the team.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you accompany her."

Great, just what you needed. Relentless teasing from Derek Morgan, fun!

The devil grinned. "Let's do this, doll."

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

You ignored Morgan the whole drive.

No, seriously, you didn't say a word to him besides giving him the directions. Of course that only stroked the fire.

When you finally did arrive at the house of Theodore's mother, you felt like you had just taught a class of first graders.

Morgan was in the middle of something like, "—come on, we're all waiting to hear what happened between you and pretty boy—" when you got out of the car and slammed the door shut. You couldn't stand to listen to even one more second of it.

But of course he just continued after exiting the car, too. "That bad, huh?"

If you didn't know any better, you might have thought there was some pity in that comment. "It's fine. And also really none of your business."

"You and Reid are kind of making it everyones business, princess."

Rolling your eyes at his statement, you sped up your steps along the gravel path. The faster you got to the door, the faster Morgan had to get into work mode and could finally stop behaving like an assho—

The door opened unexpectedly.

"Oh," an elderly woman—she must have been in her late sixties—startled back at the sight of the both of you. She had shoulder length red-brown hair that was frizzy and clearly not washed for at least two weeks. Her hands were fiddling with a button of her worn down brown cardigan.

Undoubtedly the woman you saw on the picture on Penelope's computer.

You quickly pulled out your badge, animating Morgan to do so as well. "Mrs. Wilson? We're with the FBI. My apologies if we startled you."

"The FBI?" She frowned, clutching her cardigan tightly around herself like an armour. "Why would the FBI come to my house?"

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that your son might be involved in the case we are investigating right now." You said carefully, not knowing how much she could handle before having a heart attack.

"What? No, that—that's ridiculous! He—he…" she seemed to have forgotten what she was saying, now studying the ground for dirt.

Morgan and you glanced at each other. This was going to be difficult.

"Ma'am?" Morgan tried again. "Could we come in?"

She frowned up at him. "Yes, yes, of course. How rude of me." She made a sound that could have been a laugh as much as it could have been a sob.

"Make yourselves at home, dears. Oh, my apologies it's a little messy." She hurried across the room, gathering scraps of fabric and dirty dishes.

"Uh," you weren't sure how to say this politely, but you were in a rush and sour mood.

Luckily, Morgan saved you from having to come up with something polite. "Mrs. Wilson, we'd like to ask you some questions about your son, Theodore, if that is alright with you?"

"Oh, Theo," he fingertips touched her lips and her eyes welled up a little. It was a nostalgia only a mother could feel. "We—we don't talk a lot anymore, now that he is at university."

You frowned. There had been no evidence of Theodore being at university. "What is he studying?"

The woman seemed frozen in her thoughts. "Physics. No, that's not right…Chemistry, yes. He is studying chemistry at Princeton. He told me that."

You gave Morgan a signal to fact check that with Penelope and he left the room, leaving you to talk to Mrs. Wilson alone.

"Did he always like chemistry?"

"Yes, yes. When he was young, he always used to…no, I think that was biology." She laughed almost hysterically. "Can't keep up with that boy. So many talents."

Bingo. Biochemistry. His father's influence, no doubt. And it fit the theory of Theodore taking on his father's murderous tendencies. Just a little more and you had him.

"Was there any particular niche he was particularly interested in?"

"Yes, but…but I don't remember. You see, Don, my husband—Theo's father, he would know. He—he was the one who always went to the laboratory with Theo."

Laboratory? You froze at the mention of a possible secondary location. Double bingo, a place to hide the victims and possibly burn them. A place where his father could have taught him his ways, pass the torture down like some families might pass down jewellery.

"This lab," you asked cautiously, not wanting to come across too pushy or desperate (which you very much were). "You don't happen to know where it is?"

"Oh, it's abandoned now, run down, I'm certain. They stopped going there after Don got sick…" she couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes fogging up with grief.

You doubted that he just stopped going, but she didn't need to know that. "Is it possible that you find out where it is located?"

She nodded, mumbling something about a postcard before disappearing into another room.

Morgan came back from the hallway.

"There is no record of him at Princeton. No pay checks, nothing." He whispered to you.

That was to be expected. You just nodded.

All of this left you with a horrible, nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. This woman had lost everything—her husband, her son, her sanity—but the hope she clung to was that her son was in university, building a life of his own, making a name for himself.

Now you were working on destroying that hope. It might ruin her entirely. Irrevocably.

She came back a second later, a postcard in her hands. "That's the address, I think." She held it out to you.

But as you went to grab it, fingers closing around it, she didn't let go, keeping a tight grip on it. Like a lifeline. Like a part of her knew, that if she let you have it, there was no going back to the normal she once knew.

"Mrs. Wilson…?" You tested carefully.

She startled. "Oh! I'm sorry." She let the paper go. "Here you go. I hope it helps with your…"

Her face creased up, thinking hard of a reason why two FBI agents could be in her house, asking for her perfect son who was studying chemistry in Princeton.

Morgan, ever the escape artist, waved politely, "You have been very helpful, Ma'am. We best be going then, have a nice day."

"Yes, yes, of course. You must be busy kids." But just as you stepped through the door, feet just hitting the gravel, she called after you. "Agents?"

Both of you turned. "Yes?" You asked politely.

"My son, when you visit him at Princeton, could—could you tell him I was sorry?"

"Of course, Ma'am." You let your voice trail off, hoping she would clarify what she was apologising for.

Mrs. Wilson leaned against the door with one hand, as if stabilising herself. "We had a fight, you see. The night before he left for Princeton. I never got to apologise to him."

You were tempted to ask what the fight was about, but you held back. It might be important for the case, but not enough to dig up the rotten bones. "Of course. We will tell him, Mrs."

"Thank you—thank you. Tell him I love him, too, would you be so kind?"

You nodded. "Of course."

Morgan and you walked away, then. Leaving the woman behind.

You didn't recall reaching the car, didn't recall Morgan unlocking it and even holding open the door for you to climb in. Too deep in the past, too caught up in the future.

The conversation with the mother affected you more than you'd like to admit. A fight could ruin so many relationships, it could make you go crazy, make you say things that caused you to drift further and further apart. Until you didn't know each other at all anymore, but you still clung to the past yous that you once were.

You only came to yourself when you felt the seat under you, when the engine started to hum.

"We had a fight." You mumbled as Morgan reversed out of the parking space.

"What?" He looked over at you shortly, confused. He couldn't recall having fought with you.

"Spencer and I. We fought. That's why we broke up."

Morgan felt a little like laughing. "You broke up because of a fight? Must have been one hell of a fight, then. The both of you were always so inseparable."

When you didn't laugh or react, Morgan glanced over at you again. You looked sad, in thought. With a big pout-slash-frown on your face, fingers fiddling with the sleeves if your button up.

"Hello? Earth to earthling?" He waved a hand in front of your face.

"Sorry." You glanced up at him. "I don't know why I brought it up, I don't like talking about it."

Bless him, Morgan's face softened a little. He wasn't heartless enough to keep teasing you when you clearly had a hard time. Well, okay, he had his moments.

"You don't have to talk about it."

"No, it's okay. We—We fought a lot, leading up to the break up. Silly things like the dishes, different opinions on different things.…The real issue was this job, though." You swallowed around the urge to bolt.

"The job?"

You nodded. "We brought it home with us, made it the centre piece of our relationship."

Morgan winced. It was the mistake every agent was afraid to make when entering a relationship.

"Yeah," you breathed out. "I know. But you know us, we work, that's just who we are."

"Workaholics." Morgan coughed to lighten the mood.

In any other situation you would have dug your elbow into his side, scowled at him. But not in this one.

"It got too much in the end. The fear, the paranoia. We just…snapped. We talked it out, funnily enough that conversation was quite calm. Though we were naive enough to think we could stay friends." You sniffed.

It surprised him, to find out you were struggling so much in the past months leading up to your break up. "You always seemed so happy at work. Everyone agreed when I said you two were meant for each other."

"Yeah, well, things that are meant for each other aren't always the right thing."

"Do you really believe that? Or are you scared that it won't work out if you tried again and you opened yourself up for nothing?" He lifted one hand from the wheel to put air quotes around the word nothing.

You glared at his side profile. "Okay, Mr. Therapist."

"What?" He looked at you again, before focusing back on the road. "I'm just saying. Reid is so far gone for you, opening up to him would never be for nothing. If you want it to work you have to work for it."

"Since when are you an expert on relationships, Derek 'has a new girl every week' Morgan." You rolled your eyes. But you couldn't deny that his words stirred something inside you.

"Okay, you're just being mean now, sugar. I'm incredibly wise." He pretended to push glasses up his nose.

That got a laugh out of you. A real, stomach ache inducing laugh. Maybe you were hysterical now, too.

Morgan smiled at that. He was glad to hear that sound again, after months filled with frown lines and sharp tones.

After you calmed down, you got back into work mode, calling the team and telling them what you had discovered. You told Penelope to check the address and she confirmed that it was an abandoned laboratory.

Now everything happened quickly. Hotch ordered you to drive to the lab and wait for the team, to be on alert for anyone entering or leaving the building, but not to—under any circumstances—enter or separate from each other.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

Not even twenty minutes later, you and Morgan arrived at the laboratory and prepared by putting on your vests and checking your guns.

The other black SUVs lined up in front of the main entrance shortly after.

You caught Spencer's eyes as he got out of the car. He scanned you from head to toe for injuries. When he found none, the concern on his face melted away quickly enough for you to consider you had imagined it.

"No one has entered or left the front door in the time we were here." You said when the team reassembled.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you and Prentiss go in from behind and search the lower level. JJ, Rossi and I search the second floor."

"But that means—" Spencer started to protest but Hotch has already pointed at you.

"You and Reid, go to the upper level."

Because you were so focused on the case (totally not because you want to show Hotch you could be more professional than Spencer), you just nodded.

"Good. Let us not waste time we don't have." Hotch frowns and everyone goes their separate ways.

Spencer glanced at you and you glanced at him. This was the first time you had been alone together since the break up and you were both unsure what to do with each other.

"Is your vest secure?" Spencer asked after a short awkward pause. He took a step closer and you try your best not to flinch back. Professional, you remind yourself like a mantra.

"Yes." You retort steadily enough, but he was already reaching out to tug on the straps.

You frowned at the display of worry, but decided on letting him have his moment. Purely to save energy, of course.

"Fine, let's go up." He said as he was satisfied with your vest. Together you made your way up the stairwell onto the upper level.

As you sneaked through the eerily quiet lab, the only sound heard was the clacking of your heeled boots on the resin floor.

Spencer glared at you. "Couldn't have worn a worse shoe for this, could you?" He whispered.

"I could've hardly worn my crocks." You snapped back. "Focus."

Both of your guns were trained around the corners as you carefully assed the situation. So far there was nothing that seemed too out of the ordinary for an abandoned laboratory. Broken glass, dusty workstations, pipes…Nothing to accompany you and Spencer but silence.

Until a shot rang out. And you wince.

The bullet just barely grazed your upper arm but it was enough to make a crimson blotch bloom on your white button up.

Spencer pulled you behind a corner before you could get hurt even worse and presses his hand over your wound.

He wrapped a hand around your wrist to hold your arm still and assessed your arm. "Does it hurt badly?"

"It's fine. Focus on the UnSub." You scowled, pushing against his shoulders with your free hand. Spencer didn't budge. "Reid, I'm so serious—"

"No, I'm serious," he said your name sternly. "Answer my ques—"

Another shot rang out before he could finish repeating himself, but it thankfully didn't hit anyone.

You gave him a look that says see? I fucking told you so. and pushed him away to glance around the corner to fire some shots at the guy.

"The suspect is in the upper level." You said into the microphone. "He's wearing a black bomber. Brown hair. I can't tell much. He's armed and shooting." You listed off.

"Copy that." Answered JJ's voice back to you.

"Get," Spencer grumbled, "behind the wall."

"You almost sound worried." You grinned and taunted him by doing the direct opposite of his command, leaning further around the corner.

"That's because I am. It doesn't look great on my report if I just let you die." He bitt out, pulling you back by your wrist that he still hasn't let go of.

Unfortunately, he ended up slamming your back against the wall in the process.

You made a noise that could only be described as a grunt. "Oh, and manhandling does?"

Both of you were now pressed against the wall, with Spencer's arms caging you in so you couldn't make a run for it and do something even more reckless.

"I'll just put it down as keeping you from sabotaging the mission." He was panting, and for a moment the thought of just how attractive he was crossed your mind. Until you shook it off.

Just as you opened your mouth to taunt him some more, you ear piece crackles and Hotch's voice was heard saying yours and Spencer's names, "—what is your position?"

"We're still—fuck!" Another shot rang out before you could finish the sentence, hitting a pipe on the opposing wall and causing you to flinch. Steam hissed from the hole. Spencer shushed you and you were tempted to snap at him, but you lowered your voice instead. Staying quiet was in your best interest, to make the shooter believe you were hit and the danger passed.

"Still on the third floor. He's got us cornered." You continued quietly.

And because Spencer just couldn't leave it at that, he added into the mic, "She's hurt, we will need an ambulance when we're out of here."

Glaring, you retorted, "I'm fine, a bullet just grazed my arm."

"It's still important to get it checked out!" Spencer replied in a harsh whisper. He was really pushing your buttons now.

"We're on our way up. Try to get him into the stairwell." Is the only response you get from Hotch.

You breathe out. "Okay, let's try to get to the stairwell."

Spencer nods, gesturing for you to take the lead and finally stepped back to free you from the cage of his arms. (And the suffocating urge to kiss him.)

With your gun stretched out in front of of you, you carefully take step after step along the eerily quiet hallway.

"You go right," Spencer murmured, "I'll take the left."

"What? No—" But it was an impossible task, stopping Spencer Reid once he was set on doing something. He had already disappeared into another hallway.

"Does he learn nothing from his mistakes?" You mumbled to yourself, but do as he demanded nonetheless.

You placed one foot in front of the other with caution, rounding the corners not before listening into the silence.

Suddenly there was a noise. You didn't know if it was Spencer, your imagination or the UnSub, but all of your body was braced for battle.

Taking a deep breath, you rounded the corner. The hallway ended with a wall adorned with two doors. One lead to the stairwell, spiralling down into the second floor.

The other door was open. It looked like a lab to you, but you didn't have a good enough angle to see what was inside. The walls specked with dust and grime, mold forming in the crevices.

You caught movement in the room and walked slowly towards it. You had a half formed though to signal to Spencer through the mic, but before you could execute it, you had already entered the room.

A man stood with his back to you at one of the work stations. You took another step towards him, but your boot crushed a shard of glass under its heel. You froze.

Theodore spun around in panic, picking his gun up from the counter. "You—You should be—I shot you."

You breathed in deep to steady your voice. Theo's choice of words struck a match of hope in you. Maybe he didn't know that Spencer and the rest of the team were in the building, too. Maybe he just saw you.

"The bullet graced my arm." You confirmed, taking a step closer to him.

"Get back. Get back!" He screamed, forcing you to walk deeper into the room with his gun, so his back was to the door. "If you shoot, I'll go down pressing the trigger and you will go down, too."

His hand was shaking around the gun, he looked like he might drop it every moment. The room was dark, just a little sliver of light coming through the small window.

You watched it flicker and tried to come up with something to say, but your brain blanked on the profile.

Being a profiler had taught you a lot, but in this moment all you could focus on was that Spencer was somewhere in this building and you had no idea if he was safe.

"Theo, I know what your father did to you, how he would train you to take every hit without flinching, the burning." You said carefully.

"Don't—don't talk about my father like you know anything! Because you don't—you don't know anything!Lower you gun!" He spit out.

Just as you were trying to find a way to tell him that there was no way you would lower your gun, you saw Spencer through the doorframe behind Theo, gun pointed at him, too. You tried not to look at him as you continued.

"I won't shoot if you don't give me a reason to, Theo. I—I talked to your mother." You tried in a last desperate attempt to deescalate the situation.

That seemed to get his attention, he lowered his gun a little, before taking a step closer to you pointing it at you again. "Leave my mother out of this." He growled.

You continued anyway. "She told me that she was sorry, about your fight before you left. She is so, so proud of you, Theo. Told me to tell you that she loves you. Nothing could make her stay mad at you forever, she just wants you in her life again." You tried not to look at Spencer as you spoke the words to Theo that were really meant for him.

Tears formed in Theo's eyes. A sight that you had seen just forty minutes earlier, in his mother's. "Stop! It doesn't matter if she's proud. I lied to her! I lied."

"Of course it matters, if you put the weapon down and come back with us to the station, you could see her again. You could be her son again."

His laugh is hollow as he said, "Do you think I'm stupid? You're trying to get me to surrender. What do you called it? A talk down? Making false promises just to get me locked up. You never end up keeping them." His grip on the trigger tightened.

Another thing you learned as a profiler was not to get attached to victims or UnSubs. And while most of the team had failed at that, you had always considered yourself lucky—or heartless, for that matter.

But as you watched the pain on Theo's face, you understood. Maybe not everything he did, but you understood the cause. Understood that all of his life was set up for him to end here, in this lab, two guns pointed at him.

Behind him, Spencer nodded towards the stairs and you tried to signal to him that you didn't understand without exposing his location. He just gestured towards them again, frowning at you to just do as he said.

He took a few steps deeper into the room to clear the doorway, somehow managing not to get caught by Theo. It was a gamble he gladly took if it meant you were safe. "Theo, you don't have to do this."

Spencer's voice startled Theo and for a second you were terrified that he was going to shoot. But instead, he just turned around quickly, panicked pointing the gun at Spencer.

Your moment to run. Just to get help and come back to him. You sprinted out of the room, past Theo and Spencer. Theo shouted "No!" but it was too late, you were already half down the stairs.

You silently begged Spencer to hold on for a little longer. But just as you practically jumped of the last step in a hurry, you heard a gunshot.

Freezing on the bottom of the steps for the fraction of a second, you tried not to panic, but just as you turned to sprint back up the stairs, an arm wrapped around your middle, the other covering your mouth.

"Shh," came Rossi's voice from behind you. You struggled as he dragged you out of the building.

Fresh air hit your face as you were forced to exit, but all you could think about was the fact that Spencer's dead body might be lying on the third level of an abandoned laboratory.

You tried to pull back from him but he wouldn't let you. "No—Spencer. Spence is still—Spencer!" You struggled against his grip.

"You can't go back in there—" Rossi said your name. "The kid is smart, you know that. He—"

Before he could finish, there was another gunshot, this one closer. You almost sank to your knees as everyone around you prepared to take down the UnSub.

And were rebuild when Spencer emerged from the building a few seconds later, hands raised, "Don't shoot, he is injured, but breathing." He gestured behind him somewhere.

Rossi finally let you go when Spencer was far enough away from danger.

Not wasting a minute, you ran towards Spencer, almost crashing into him in the process.

Emily, JJ and an EMT passed you in a blur as they went into the laboratory to secure Theo. You barely registered them.

"What happened?" You didn't know whether to push him or to kiss him. You opted for the first, pushing against his shoulders. "Why would you tell me to leave? I—We had it handled. Together. I—I—You fucking scared me."

Spencer just pulled you to him by your good arm and wrapped you in a tight embrace. He didn't say anything for a while, just letting you process your feelings.

The fear of loosing Spencer for good, the pain of the break up, the conflicting feelings of having to work with your ex (that you're still very much in love with). You clung to him as your emotions overtake you. And, fuck, your arm hurt!

"Shh, it's okay. I'm okay. Here—" he pulled back with some difficulty, given that you had quite a firm grip on him, and took your hand in his, placing it on the side of his neck. "Can you feel that? I'm okay."

You nodded. "You're okay." You breathed out, looking from your hand on his pulse point, to his eyes. "Why would you do that?" Tears pricked at your eyes.

"I didn't think rationally. All I could think about was that there was a gun pointed at you and all my brain would come up with was stupid ideas to make him point it at me. Please forgive me."

He looked at you with his big, sad, brown puppy eyes, while his thumb brushed softly against the skin under your eye to catch your tears before they could fall.

You would have said something flirty like, you might have to make it up to me some more, if you weren't so terribly mad at him. "Maybe. I can't promise anything."

He smiled softly despite your answer. Maybe even because of it. It was a silly thought, you not forgiving him. "I can work with maybe."

An EMT whisked you away shortly after, but Spencer's hand stayed in yours until they slipped apart and his arm fell to his side.

He wasn't sure if he could just follow, he stayed away and watched you get checked out by the EMTs.

All of it—the story of you and him—reminded him of Cassandra witnessing the fall of Troy. It was stupid to compare two people who were so insignificant to history to two of histories most known tragedies, but it fit like he still did into the palm of your hand.

He had known that he would never be able to get over you. No one had believed him, telling him that time heals all wounds and that he couldn’t see the bigger picture yet, because he was still in it.

But he had known, and it still rang true. You were it for him and he would never find anyone that made him feel more like himself. It was foolish to think he could survive the break up, foolish to think he would get over it.

Hell, he had taken being on the receiving end of your spite over being your friend because it meant you'd look at him and feel something.

Taking all of his courage together, Spencer decided to approach you after the EMT finished patching you up.

"Hey," he said gently. This was the first time you talked without snarling at each other outside of work since the break up and it felt like finally breathing fresh air again after living purely off of carbon dioxide. "Doing good? How is your arm?"

You looked up at him from the steps on the back of the ambulance. You looked rough, exhausted. The sleeves of your shirt were rolled up to allow the EMT to bandage your wound.

It felt different now, talking to you. The moment of adrenaline had passed and he had no idea how to talk to you. The times of snarling seemed to be over, but the ones of kissing and I love you's were long gone, too.

"I'm okay. All patched up. I don't think I will ever take my reflexes for granted ever again." You tried to smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "How are you?"

He wanted to deflect, to twist it back to you, but he humoured you. "Exhausted, but I'm good. I'm just glad you're safe."

What he actually wanted to say was: I love you, I'm glad you're speaking to me again. Let's never split up again. Please. And: I miss you, I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like everyone is running laps around me for the first time in my life.

Of course, he said none of it, this wasn't the time to dig that hole. Instead he just looked at you.

The blue of the sirens flickered on your face and even though you looked exhausted, he could't help but think you were the most beautiful thing Mother Earth has sculpted. The Grand Canyon was nothing in comparison to the frown lines on your face, the stars nothing compared to your freckles and birthmarks.

You looked back at him then, but thankfully didn't question the look on his face that without a doubt read, I love you.

Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder in a silent, I love you, too.

There was so much to talk about, so much to tell him, but when he insisted on taking you home, because he wouldn't let you drive home alone after the events of today, all you cared about was that he was there again. Fully. Without snapping, without pretend hate. Just the old you and the old him again.

You fell into your bed that night, the glaring blue light of your digital clock telling you that it was 3am. Earlier than a lot of other late nights at the BAU.

Spencer didn't hesitate to take off your work clothes, didn't ask where your pyjamas were, didn't stop to think what this all meant for you now. He didn't need to, all of this was an Obvious.

You didn't tell him to lay down next to you, to climb under the covers and flip the light off, to let you rest your head on his chest. He just did all of it. Because it was a routine, the known in all the unknown that was your relationship now. A Constant.

In the morning, you would talk about it. While he was changing your bandage with careful fingers. But right now, the sound of Spencer's heart beating your name lulled you to sleep.

In the end, fear and worry had been the best matchmakers.

──────────── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

PART TWO

thank you so much for reading! please remember reblogging, commenting and liking if you enjoyed the fic. feedback is appreciated!! 𝜗𝜚

[thebestsetter]

Isagi loves your thighs. And even though he isn't the type of guy to answer "personality" when asked "Boobs, thighs or ass?", he doesn't want to outright say how attracted he feels to them, mainly because he doesn't want you to think he only cares about your body (even though you know he doesn't).

So, imagine how heavenly it felt the first time he got to sleep on your lap. He remembers it as if it happened yesterday.

He had come home after a tough day of practice, in which his coach seemed even more angry than usual and just determined to make the whole team's day a living hell. Everything in him was aching, from his back to his feet, and he could swear he had a fever or something, because his head was starting to throb too. All Isagi wanted to do was get home and lay down, even if it means sleeping without showering (which shows just how tired he was).

"Honey? You're home!" he heard you saying from the kitchen "Welcome home!"

He tried to answer your sweet voice welcoming him home. He really did. But his mouth just wouldn't answer his brain's commands. So, he was just standing, staring at you with his mouth wide open, looking like an idiot.

"Isagi? Are you feeling alright?"

He couldn't even register what he was doing, but the next thing he knew, he walked closer to you. His body was just moving on it's own, as if being as close to you as possible was as natural for him as breathing.

"Sweetie, you're starting to scare me. Do you need to go to the doctor? Did something happen today at practice?"

He couldn't resist the urge to hug you anymore, even though he was trying to restrain himself because he was still stinky from practice and he knew just how much you hated it when he hugged or kissed you without showering first. He couldn't explain it, but you looked so huggable at the moment! He took a step closer, hugging you tight and burying his face in the crook of your neck, innaling deeply and letting out a satisfied sigh. One of his hands was travelling your waist while the other was playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Yoichi!" you exclaimed, voice worried yet still not loud enough to make his head ache even more (he doesn't even think your voice will ever be capable of doing him any harm) "You're burning up! You have a fever! I can't believe it, I told you to take better care of yourself!"

Ah. So he was right. He had a fever. That's why training was so hard today.

"Hm" he muttered, still with his head in your neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment you both were having.

"Stay at the couch, I'll go grab some medicine at the bathroom."

"Noooo, don't leave me here" he said, clearly affected by his sickness. It looks like his mouth finally started to work again. "I don't want to be away from youuuu"

"Yoichi, my honey, you're clearly not thinking straight right now. But I won't go away! I'll be back in like 30 seconds. Sit on the couch and count, I swear it won't take long"

He sighed, but complied anyway, sitting at the couch and waiting (im)patiently.

You were right, because in almost no time you came back with pills and a cup of water. If there was a sport where the champion had to be the person who brought a glass of water and medicine to their sick boyfriend the fastest, you would win, Isagi thought (and that thought made him strangely proud).

"Here. Drink it up" he obeyed

"Everything hurts"

"I know it does, love. What you need right now is sleep. Come here" you said, patting your lap. If Yoichi was in his right mind, he would've blushed hard and maybe even denied at first, but he wasn't. He just wanted to rest, and he always dreamed about laying in your lap. So, he quickly grasped the opportunity.

And boy was it as good as he imagined it would be. Even better, actually. Your thighs were fluffier than any other pillows he had ever used before, and he felt like he could hibernate there. And as if it couldn't get any better, you started playing with his hair. He was in heaven. He couldn't even fell the pain anymore, and he was sure it wasn't just the medicine doings.

"I love your thighs" he admitted, a honesty he wouldn't have when he was healthy, which made you chuckle "And I love you too. Thank you." He kissed the inner part of your thigh to show you just how serious he was about it

"I love you too, Yoichi. Now, rest. We don't want the best striker of the world to be sick all week, do we?"

"If it means getting to lay on your lap everyday, I would be sick my whole life"

"You're silly"

"And you're the love of my life"

"Good night, Isagi"

"Good night, my love"

Masterlist

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 17 - just like the rest

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

"you aren't going to be able to ignore him forever y/n" sarah said to you softly.

"i can't face it. him"

sarah sighed, sitting down beside you on the bed. “i get it. i do. but you can’t hide from this forever.”

you swallowed hard, “i can’t face him, sarah.” your voice was barely above a whisper, "my last boyfriend cheated on me. that's why i came here. he hurt me so badly. he made me feel like it was my fault. that i wasn't good enough so he had to cheat on me. that's why this is so hard. i can't let this happen to me again."

sarah’s face fell, her heart breaking a little at your confession. she had known you were hurt before rafe, that you had things you didn’t like to talk about. but she hadn’t known this.

she reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “y/n… i’m so sorry.”

you blinked back tears, your chest tightening. “i thought rafe was different.” your voice cracked, “i let myself believe he wouldn’t hurt me. i didn't allow myself to be with anyone again after my ex. rafe is the first person since."

kie, who had been standing quietly by the door, finally spoke, her voice laced with anger. “this isn’t your fault, y/n. it wasn’t your fault then, and it’s not your fault now.”

“then why does it keep happening to me?” you looked between them, desperate for an answer, for something that would make this all hurt less. “what is so wrong with me that the people i love always leave?”

sarah and kie shared a look of sadness as kie sat down on the other side of you. "nothing is wrong with you y/n." kie started, wiping your tears. "it's them."

“i just don’t know how to move on from this.”

sarah pulled you into a hug, holding you like she could physically keep you together. “one step at a time, okay? and no matter what, we’re not letting you go through this alone."

"thank you guys."

"we love you." kie spoke, "and when you are ready to talk to rafe, we'll be here."

you didn't know what to believe. what to do. your mind was in shambles trying too figure out if you could trust rafe or not. part of you really believed he would never do this to you. he loved you. but the photo? and cara's messages?

rafe kept trying to call you, message you, anything to just reach out and get you to talk to him. you knew the only way to find an answer was to see him, but you couldn't even try facing him right now.

the photo was burned in your brain, seeing it every time you closed your eyes.

you weren’t sure what was more painful, rafe betraying you, or the fact that you still wanted to hear his voice, touch him, feel him near you.

but no matter how much you wanted him to be the exception, be the person that wouldn't hurt you,

he had already proven he was just like the rest.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: of course i had to make jj sassy🙄🙄

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm@pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes@judesgfirl@4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover@yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld@blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @bambii1i @thesunflowersociety @wtfdudesblog @voidangxls @jjmaybankmylovee @munsoncultedits @emmiesummers

[comicaurora]

A bit of a strange question, but if there were any of your videos you were to "remake" today for any reason (ex: you feel like you misrepresented the original text or spread misinformation), which would it be and why? None of them is a perfectly valid answer

Again: bit of a strange question, but I've been thinking about my own creations and how I could have done so much better with some of them, but I also know that is a sign of my growth and constantly chasing "what if I did this instead" isn't always healthy for nurturing a creative mindset, and I was wondering what your opinion might be as a Creator of Things with a bit more experience than I

There's been a few trope talks where I've thought later of other angles I could've explored that might warrant sequels or part 2s, but I don't dislike any of the summaries enough to justify a rework.

I always find "I could've done this better if I made it now" to be a bit of a fallacy. I'm only better at making things now because I made all those earlier things. If I knew everything I'd learn from making a project before I started the project, it wouldn't come out the same.

I think when it comes to the "rework remake perfect" instinct, it helps to zero in on what the impulse is really grounded in. In my experience, more often than not, it's not actually about making the art better, except incidentally. It's usually about showing that you are better. It's demonstrating your competence and your higher standards and your skills, and more importantly it's overwriting the proof that you were once less than perfect. If people look at your old work and think that's all you're capable of, they'll be judging you poorly!

If that's the motivator, it's a very unhelpful one. You can't control for being harshly or incorrectly judged. It's a fruitless effort to stave off potentially upsetting outdated criticism, and it's not even going to work. Fear of critique is an unreliable and untrustworthy motivator.

If it really is about making the art itself better, perfecting your magnum opus with your newly leveled-up skills, that's a little more solid. But from where I'm standing, it's always better to use those skills to make something new instead of polishing something old. The older, unpolished work has already acquired its audience that finds it appealing for reasons that might never occur to you. Trying to bury or overwrite it just deprives that audience of the thing they like, and maybe makes them feel bad for having liked it in the first place. Also, usually when you look back on the older work, you'll conclude that the problem is everything and it'll need to be torn down and started from scratch. I know when I revisited the first three chapters of the comic, when I let my critic brain spin up, it wasn't shading or lineart I wanted to fix - it was panel composition, overall pacing, the entire structure of the chapters as a whole. I would've had to make them all over again to be happy with them, and they wouldn't be the same story by the end.

I've been thinking a lot about the Discworld through this lens lately. It ended up over 40 books long, but everyone agrees that the first two are not what you should start with, because they're the worst ones. They're entirely parodic, purely referential of at-the-time major fantasy series, and borderline mean-spirited in places. If you haven't read Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser and Dragonriders of Pern, you're not gonna understand like a full 50% of The Colour Of Magic.

It's clear that when he started in on them, Pratchett was entirely focused on taking the piss out of a genre he found mostly shallow and unimpressive. But the Discworld wouldn't leave his head, and everything he made fun of he clearly eventually found himself overthinking. He'd make little one-off jokes in the early books about Dwarves having no women and a hundred words for gold, and then twenty books later he'd have a Dwarf gender revolution make waves across the Disc, and then he'd write Thud!, a book that delves deeper into the nuances of Dwarf societal structure than Tolkien ever did.

If you look for them, there are continuity errors everywhere in Discworld. In his introductory book, Carrot defused a dwarf bar full of rowdy brawlers by guilting them all into writing to their poor lonely mothers back home. Shortly thereafter, Carrot will be outraged at the mere concept of an openly female dwarf. Pratchett even eventually wrote Thief of Time, a book that loosely explains that the Disc makes no sense because history has been broken and put back together incorrectly twice, and therefore any continuity errors are because of that.

He's the writer. He could've gone back and fixed it, edited the reprints to be less disruptively discontinuous with the later books. Instead he continuously moved forward and allowed the world he made to grow without cutting it off from its roots. And because he didn't bury his older, far worse work, we have the privilege of following the Disc's evolution from the very start, and seeing how this shallow, stock fantasy world parody became something incredibly rich and complex without ever pretending like its early installments never happened.

Anyway, that's why I think it's better to move forward. You make more good stuff that way.

[delespresso]

DETESTATION ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; this was previously titled 'kiss me' lol. i cant lie, i was sort of just winging it with this one — i've been doing a lot of rivals to lovers u guys, my brain is a little confused now 😭 idk if i liked this but i hope its good! <3

prompt; “You can’t just…kiss me to win a fucking argument, [NAME]!” “You’re right…but did it work?” ps; i changed it up a bit, oops

summary; the constant back and forth was totally out of total detestation. . . right?

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

It was the third invite to the Ozdust Ballroom within the month.

Ever since the Winkie Prince showed up at Shiz a few months back, he's been influencing quite a few trips to the scandalocious venue. In fact — he started it immediately on his first day.

She didn't plan on going this time either. Even if the invite had come directly from him, while he was following her tail all over campus.

"C'mon, princess, it'll be fun," Fiyero urged as he walked behind her like a little puppy.

Typically, she refused to even be in his vicinity. With her luck though, somehow Doctor Dillamond decided he needed a tutor to push him through history class — so of course, she was chosen, being the current top student.

"Think of it as me thanking you for helping me ace history," Fiyero continued.

He did, in fact, ace his history after that. A whole A solid.

"For the millionth time, Fiyero, no," she huffed.

He rolled his eyes at another rejection, still following her as they found their way into the dining hall. It was sparse at the moment, they were quite early this time.

"Your welcome for history. But that's it," she added.

She grabbed a tray, starting to put food on it. As she did though, the infuriatingly charming — and annoying — prince stole a piece right out of her plate.

"You should learn to live a little. See the nightlife. Go dancing. We don't live forever, you know?"

She stared up at him as he just went on his little ramble about life.

"If you're worried about a dance partner—"

"I really don't care—"

"I'm sure Boq is very kind to help in that," Fiyero said with a sly smirk.

Respectfully, Boq was nice and cute in a way, but she would much rather drink a tub of toxic elixir.

She could only scoff in response, picking up her tray and finding a seat. Still he refused to let up.

"One night. Its just one night, it really won't kill you," Fiyero insisted.

"It won't, but I might kill you."

She set her tray down with a huff, but she didn't get the chance to sit yet before he was pestering her again.

"I've lived quite well, I wouldn't mind dying at your hands," he shrugged.

"Are you serious right now?" she scoffed. "I have a fork and knife an inch away from my hands, don't tempt me."

"Oh, how horrifying," he mock gasped.

Oh, this little—

"Truthfully, I find a death by my history tutor to be a beautiful exit," he continued with a smug grin.

"You have no sense of self preservation. My hands would be a painful way to die," she retorted.

He didn't miss a beat, grabbing her hands in his in such an oddly gentle manner that had her brain crashing for a moment.

"These soft hands? I find that hard to believe."

She blinked rapidly, just staring at the way he held her hands to his chest for no reason. Why was her head spinning? Why was her pulse rushing?

"You're infuriating," she managed to hiss as she pulled her hands away.

Really, she had no idea why this man annoyed her so much. She felt an irrational amount of irritation when he was around. Her head would sometimes go empty when she looked at him, her heart suddenly going too fast and her stomach feeling like it was floating.

Dislike. Pure, utter, dislike. Loathing, perhaps. Detestation.

Those were the only acceptable answers.

She ended up taking her lunch to go, bringing it with her to eat somewhere else where she could escape him.

"Come dancing tonight!" he tried again even as she stomped away from him and replied over without turning back.

"Eat grass!"

It was her roommate that dragged her to the Ozdust Ballroom that night. No one else.

Certainly not the persistent, annoyingly handsome prince. No.

She allowed herself to have fun for a while, dancing around with her roommate. She didn't catch a single glimpse of him so she assumed he bailed.

She would be absolutely wrong when she ended up twirling right into his arms.

Fiyero's hands were on her waist, keeping her right there as her hands ended up on his biceps. He grinned down at her, that casual and laidback smile he always had.

"You came."

"Not because of you."

He chuckled at her quick defensiveness. It was cute to him. Taking her hand, he gave her a quick whirl before pulling her close again.

"Of course not," he agreed.

"Plenty of other reasons to come to a party," she nodded.

"Mhm."

"Nice ambience, people in nice outfits," she started to list aimlessly.

"Yes, they do dress up nice," he continued to agree.

"Good music, exceptional dancing—"

"You dance well."

"Random excuse to dress myself up too—"

"You look lovely."

"The lights are quite nice too, all blueish—"

She didn't get the chance to keep yapping when suddenly a pair of warm lips were on hers. It felt like she was on fire. A good kind of fire. When she opened her eyes again and their lips parted, she met his gaze under the lights.

Her lips were parted, her breath catching. Her face was definitely flushing and Oz— her head was reeling. She was too flustered she ended up fumbling her words.

"You can't just kiss me to win an argument, Fiyero!"

He laughed at her reaction. In hindsight, he should've probably not do it out of nowhere. But her reaction was priceless.

"Yeah, probably not. But it shut you up," he mused.

She stared up at him, eyes wide as she was clearly baffled.

"You need to stop finding excuses, princess," he teased, giving her yet another whirl.

Her dress flared out before she ended up back with him, flush against his chest. Whatever she felt for him was strong. Though she was starting to suspect it wasn't actually detestation.

She'd likely been in denial.

"You need to not kiss someone without permission," she retorted anyway.

Fiyero only smiled, but at least he nodded sincerely with a bit of a shrug.

"Fair enough. Sorry," he agreed. "Can I have a redo?"

She raised a single brow up at him, this time catching up with the dance way better than when she initially ended up in his arms. A coy, almost teasing smile pulled on her lips as she casually ended up leading the dance.

"Let's see your dancing first, Winkie Prince."

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[noxemma]

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

--- Sorry this is a bit of a shorter part. I promise more is coming but I wanted to get something out since its been several days over a week 🫣 --- "Dean, I-" Cas starts, but before he can finish there's another knock on the door. "Hey, it's me!" Gabe's muffled voice calls from the other side. Dean doesn't move, just keeps staring at Cas, willing him to continue. Cas opens his mouth again, but closes it, averting his eyes as he slides past Dean to let his brother in. "Oh thank god, I was worried our parents were going to find me out there. Now, we should head down to the room before-" "Gabe, they were already here. They had a 'proposition," Dean cuts him off. "They, what?" Gabe blinks at him before turning to his brother when Dean doesn't' elaborate. "What did they want?" "They wanted me to get married instead of Michael," Cas tells him, but his eyes are on Dean. "To who, you don't have a- oh. Oh! They want you and Dean to get married?" Gabe's mouth is hanging open and he gapes at Cas then Dean.

"They offered to give me the contents of my trust fund if I did," Cas explains bitterly.

"You didn't say yes, did you? Because you know I have no problem using my share on you and Jack, hell, it's practically my duty as fun uncle."

"No, of course we didn't say yes. I've helped Sam study for an exam or two. I told them if they wanted me to marry Cas and smile for the press or whatever they had to give up all custodial rights to Jack, notarized and in writing or I wasn't playing ball." Gabe looks at Dean again, but it's as if he's seeing Dean for the first time, or at least that's what it feels like to Dean. There's a new glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Alright, enough, we can talk about this later. Dean gave them until eight to think it over, so we have until then to figure something else out. But first," Cas says, "I need to see my son, so Gabriel, lead the way." They make their way into the hall, opting for the stairs again since it's just one floor and 'less conspicuous' according to Gabe. Gabe unlocks the door with his key, letting Cas go through, but he stops Dean before he can follow. "Are you serious about this? I mean, I know it's Vegas, but you two will be legally, and probably very publicly if my parents have anything to do about it, wed. You're fine with that? Marrying someone who's practically a stranger?" "I know that I haven't known Cas for long, but I know what it's like to want to protect a kid. And if Cas is willing to do that for Jack, then I'm willing too. Besides, its not like the marriage has to be forever and well, I like Cas, I like Jack, I like Cas' house, and, in all honesty, it's been kind of lonely with Sam rooming on campus and just coming home for the weekends sometimes. Besides, it's not like I'm volunteering myself as tribute or anything," Dean explains, wincing a little bit, "That is if Cas'll even agree to it at all. He didn't seem all that excited about it before you showed up." "Hmm. That does seem on brand," Gabe shrugs, seemingly unbothered. "He'll do it, trust me." "What? How can you-" "I know my brother. He's probably just worried because he actually likes you and thinks he'll ruin any chance at friendship or something more if you're chained to him against your will," Gabe answers nonchalantly, "I bet he doesn't trust that you really wouldn't be bothered by being married." "So what do I do?" Dean whispers earnestly. "How do I convince him that I want to do this and that it's not some grand sacrifice?" "I'm sure you'll think of something," Gabe says, patting Dean's cheek before sweeping into the room. Dean trudges after, but crazy thoughts of getting Cas to accept his hand in marriage are pushed to the back of his brain when he sees Sam. "Sam! What the fu-," Dean remembers just in time that Jack is also in the room and corrects himself as he pulls Sam into a tight hug, "-udge happened to your face!" "Ugh, Dean. You're choking me!" Sam whines dramatically, tapping Dean's arm until he lets go. "It's nothing. Like I said, some guy came up behind and, Gabe can vouch, he looked worse." "It's true," Gabe chimes in from where he's flopped on the bed doing something on his phone. "Dad, you should have seen it! Sam hit the guy so hard he had to let me go because his nose started bleeding!" Jack explains excitedly into Cas' chest where he's still clutched tight. "Thank you, Sam. I, I don't know what I- Without you, and your brother, I would be," Cas finally looks up, finally looks at Dean, "I would probably be a nervous wreck right now."

"Hey, Jack-attack, do you want to go check out what they have at the buffet? Dean, Cas, and Sam need to chat for a second and then they'll join us for dinner, right guys?" Dean, Cas, and Sam all vocalize their agreement at the threat and Cas reluctantly lets go of Jack. Sam doesn't even wait until the door is fully closed before he turns toward Dean and Cas. "Dean, Cas? What's going on and what's Gabe talking about?" "Okay, well, uh. So Michael was supposed to be getting married, but I apparently fucked that up at brunch. And it was supposed to be this whole publicity stunt and-" "My parents want me and Dean to get married instead." "What!" Sam shouts. "Dean, um, can I have a word with you." "I'll give you two a minute," Cas says graciously, heading towards the bathroom. "Sam-" "Dean, you can't marry a man you just met," Sam blinks at him, in a way that would be hilarious if it weren't for the absolute concern in his eyes. "Why not? Disney princesses do it all the time and they end up fine," Dean grumbles, hoping to tease the frown lines off his younger brother's face. "Dean! You. Are. Not. A. Disney. Princess! I mean I like Castiel, he's a great professor and Jack is pretty awesome, but really, why-" "Because I told his parents that I wouldn't do it unless they signed over their custodial rights to Jack," Dean says, immense fatigue hitting him as he says the words. He rubs a hand down his face. "Do you remember what it was like, when you were in foster care and when you were with John? 'Cause I do, and it, it was fucking hell. If, if there is something I can do to keep Cas from having to deal with that, to keep Jack from having to live through that? Then yeah. Hell, I'd probably marry Michael, even though that way, way less appealing than marrying Cas." Dean watches as understanding turns Sam's face soft. "Dean. There has to be another way. You don't have to-" "Dammit, Sam. Maybe I want to, alright! You know, maybe this is the one time I'll have the opportunity to get married, even if it isn't real. Maybe I'm not the selfless saint everybody wants to paint me as!"

The silence is deafening as Sam just gawps at him, his eyes going impossibly wider when they drift over Dean's shoulder. "You want to get married?" Cas asks, walking towards Dean slowly, like he thinks he might scare him away by moving too quickly. "Yeah, I do," Dean admits and it feels so fucking good to say. "I mean, sure, being sort of blackmailed into it was never really part of the fantasy, but well, nothing's perfect. And it's really a win-win if it gets you Jack." "Dean, you know they won't let this go. Not for a while at least. They'll want us to stay married for at least a year, it might even be a stipulation of theirs. "Cas, I don't know how to say it any clearer, I've liked playing your boyfriend and fiancé, I've liked talking to you and," Dean shoots a side eye to Sam who stares stunned between Cas and Dean, "and holding you, and yelling at your parents, and I-" Dean just barely manages stop himself from saying 'I'm half in love with you already,' but he knows something must show on his face by the look Sam's giving him. "I want to do this, Cas. Really." Cas stares at him for a long time before nodding, then turning to Sam. "What about you, Sam? How do you feel about Dean and I getting married?" "Dude, he doesn't really get a say," Dean grumbles, not miffed at all that Cas didn't mention anything about his speech. "No, but he does get feelings and opinions on the matter, right? Especially considering that I am his professor." Dean groans and rolls his eyes, but looks to his brother. "Well, Sam? Whaddya say, you willing to give me away?" Sam looks trapped, eyes darting between the two of them. But then his eyes stick to Dean and Dean stills, letting Sam observe or read whatever he needs to on Dean's face. Sam finally heaves out a long-suffering sigh and nods his head. "Fine. But you, Dean Michael Winchester, are a liar. You promised you weren't trying to hook-up with Castiel," Sam says, thrusting an accusatory finger into Dean's chest, though his words are light and teasing. "Yeah, well, I'm not hooking up with him, I'm marrying him! So, technically, I'm not breaking my promise, huh," Dean shoots back, unable to contain his shit-eating grin. "You promised your brother you wouldn't try to 'hook-up' with me?" Cas asks, using his fingers to actually air quote the phrase and bringing Dean's victory lap around Sam to a screeching halt. "Uh, well, um. See, he's a freak." "Hey!" Sam shouts indignantly. "Sam's a freak and he notices everything, and when Jack FaceTimed the other day he noticed that we were both shirtless and I was wearing your clothes, and he knew that I thought you were- um, he, ah," heat flares up Dean's neck and ears as he blubbers and babbles and tries to talk himself out of the corner he's been backed into by his own renegade mouth. "Gabe and Jack must be wondering where we are. We really should go join them, trust me, if you thought brunch was bad, you don't want to see what kind of damage I can do when I'm hangry." Dean runs for the door, getting his hand on the handle before Sam barks his name. He sheepishly turns around, expecting to get more flak for calling Sam a freak or for the blatant redirect. But no, it's worse than that. Sam puts his hands on his hips and cranks up his bitchface to eleven before saying, "You wanna maybe fix your clothes before you dash off into public?" --- Sorry again for the mini post. I have THOUGHTS about how Dean/Cas are going to react once they realize they're not going to be sharing a bed, not to mention I have to write the whole confrontation thing with the parents (which will leave both Dean and Cas seeking comfort, hence the THOUGHTS, you guys are catching my drift, right?) ---

@colorlessjay @destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm @planterflush @t0asssty @dead-sirens @hate-babe-27 @profanitybasedfun @azriel-rodas @ghost-in-the-light @kwazle96 @icarus-falling-down @beingbluee @sassa-v @demons-i-get @greeneyedgrasshopperandhisangel @hereswhatimyellingabouttoday @sesquipedalianisms @sadundefinedbread @nyc-pizza-rat @bluetiger3000 @thefantasyvoid

[gothghostiie]

small drabble about something @pricegotmedickmatized and I talked about that refused to leave my brain

cw: implied age gap, free use, voyeurism, mild humiliation, fingering, oral, objectification, talk about boot humping; spanking; anal, porn without plot, fem!afab!reader

Nikolai was always a fan of PDA. whether it's holding your hand, slinging an arm around you, kissing your cheek to get you all flustered or smacking your ass to show some asshole who was staring at you a bit too much who you belong to, slipping fingers up your skirt to tease you; anything he can get away with in public. he can't keep his hands off of you - and why would he? you're his sweetheart, his sunshine, his favourite toy. if it wasn't for social norms he'd constantly be inside you, some way or another. but he can't, obviously. can't just bend you over in public and have his way with you, even if that's his absolute dream: having you anywhere, any way he wants.

this is how this whole thing started.

the idea of free use was always appealing - considering you were always horny (and if you weren't already, you always would be within a second of him touching you), he was always all over you, whether it be his hands, lips or more. so he suggested something: free use. you pretty much beamed when he suggested it. he was surprised by how quickly and eagerly you agreed to it, but who was he to say no? so you got together and had a long talk, set up boundaries, rules, do's and don'ts and it quickly became your new normal.

bending you over the dresser first thing in the morning to get rid of his morning wood.

having you bounce on his dick at the breakfast table while he had his coffee and read the news.

groping you all over the second you get out of the shower.

shoving fingers inside you while you were trying to do chores.

having you suck his dick while he did some paperwork in his office.

cockwarming him while eating dinner together.

having him get down on his knees behind you and sticking his head under your skirt while you did the dishes.

all down to a sleepy cuddlefuck when you go to bed together.

its heaven, really. but its not enough. not for nikolai anyway.

he kept going with rules like 'always wear skirt or dresses around me' or 'no more panties around the house'. you happily oblige, because god, why wouldn't you? this hunk of a man was fucking you seven ways to Sunday, who in their right mind would complain about this?

but it's still not enough. he's let the primal, stupid animal inside him wake up and now its growling for more. whenever the two of you go out for groceries, hang out with friends, go out on dates, he had to restrain himself from just taking what he wants. sure, he fucked you out in the car afterwards every time without fail, but its not enough. pining you down under his weight in the backseat of his SUV and hearing you yelp and gasp for breath between hoarse, pathetic begging was never enough.

it starts with him feeling you up while hes on the phone to Laswell. waving you over and copping a feel of your ass while talking about an upcoming OP. it takes you by surprise, but you don't mind it - Kate didn't see and surely didn't hear the way you gasp at the fingers digging into your fat.

it got a little further when he decided to call you into his office while on a face time call - some other high ranks or whatever, you tend to not listen when you overhear whatever they're talking about - and gestures for you to stand behind the cam and pull your shirt up for him.

it goes even even further when John is visiting the two of you. sitting on the couch across from Nikolai, not even batting an eye when he calls you over and makes you bend over his lap. your face heats up and you quietly ask what he's doing, but you don't get an answer. what you do get is 2 of Nik's fingers plunged deep into your cunt without warning, making you see starts as he starts to curl them. your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, a fleeting, embarrassed gaze at John, but he just raises an eyebrow and smirks. Nikolai grunts, something about your underwear, something about manners, something that will get you spanked later, but you can barely listen as you try to process.. this. but you can't. you simply can't. you're bent over your boyfriend's lap, having your hole fingered open while his best friend watches - and you swear you've never been this wet. a bit of shame mixes in with the pleasure and shock, but the feeling is so overwhelming that you just let it happen - you can talk later, after you've came your brains out in front of Price.

but you don't talk about it. you don't mention it and neither does he - and it makes him bold. makes him think he can do whatever he wants with you.

and he can. unfortunately. bastard.

you realise this pretty quick after the little incident. he doesn't bother to keep quiet when you jerk him off on call. he doesn't bother to make sure your bobbing head is out of the shot while facetiming business partners. doesn't bother to make sure no one hears your slutty moans when he bends you over in your friend's bathroom. and no one bats an eye.

not even when he told you to to cockwarm him in front of the whole 141.

"Get in my lap, malyshka. c'mon, no need to be shy now. they're our friends, they can see how good of a toy you are." and you do, for some God forsaken reason. you pull your pants down as you stare at him, just enough so he has space to pick a hole and make you sink down on his soft cock. that's how casual it is to him, he's not even hard. and the others just watch, continuing their conversation. of course he told them about beforehand, they're not surprised - but he's determined to take it even further.

he keeps it up, slowly establishing you as his cocksleeve, his fleshlight, his toy; around his friends. has you walking around topless when at home, no matter if the blinds are open, no matter who's around. doesnt care to be subtle about slipping his fingers under your skirt during game night with your friends, pulls you onto his cock during movie night. its so casual within just weeks of him doing this, his friends dont mind the loud moans, the high pitched squeals, the wet squelching sounds your loose holes make.

but its not enough. it's never enough, why stop when no one stops him? he wants - has to see how far you will let him go. how far others will let him go. so he does.

he starts bringing you to base - just keeping you around at first, the occasional slap on your ass in front of people, but nothing wild. that's the first few days at least, before he brings the no underwear rule to work. along with the skirt and dresses only rule. has you standing by his office chair, hand under your skirt, pumping into your asshole slowly while some Sergeant delivers files to him. watches you tremble and shake, opening his mouth to speak, but Nikolai speaks first.

"just my toy. don't mind her."

its what he tells everyone. its what he tells the private who walks in on you kneeling under Nikolais desk.

it's what he tells the medical that walks in on nikolai playing with your tits and torturing your poor little nipples.

its what he tells the Lieutenant that catches you pathetically rubbing your pussy against Nikolais boot.

it's what he tells the group of privates that he's spanking you in front of as you beg for his forgiveness, showcasing what happens if someone misbehaves.

its even what he tells the General, that walks in on you bent over the desk, tits squished flat against it, mouth wide open with fat crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks while Nikolai bullies your cervix with his fat tip.

just my toy. don't mind her.

[hambalbeesart]

I have a (very) stupid question: Prowl is usually with 5 of the 6 Constructicons in a gestalt due to Scrapper's death in the comics and Prowl being his "replacement." What's their dynamic like now that Prowl isn't part of Devastator?

(btw, I have the HC that once Prowl gets used to the whole Devastator picking him up thing, he sits quietly in his servo while Devi carries him.)

In my mind, I like to make their dynamic G1-esque as I haven't actually reached the Prowlastator part in the comics, and only know the characters from the cartoon/bios and from things my friends tell me about them. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Since Prowl isn't part of the gestalt, their relationship would begin in a less forceful manner. I've talked to some mutuals about possible ways they could meet, and I think the relationship works best if set during an AU where the war is over, as I doubt the constructicons would care for cross factional relationships due to how risky they could be, as I hc that they wouldn't be the type to betray their faction for love (or maybe they could, idk I'm not really set on just one way they could work, I'm very indecisive). Ok ok, I love Scrapper, so I like to think that maybe he's the one who develops a crush on Prowl (I even have a fanfic in the works for that, I have some excerpts on my Twitter) and would be the first one to court him. Then he would be followed by the other Constructicons, who each also develop feelings for the aloof tactician. And yes!!! He would get carried around by Devastator, cause he's an extra boyfriend!! Devy would yoink Prowl up like a cat and be like "ok bb let's go" and just steal him for a date hehe. Sorry if I didn't answer your question well, my brain isn't braining today cause I'm sick (๑-﹏-๑) but I've been meaning to catch up on requests, apologies for taking too long to respond!! ( >_< '')

[fruitiesss]

two's company || bob reynolds

a oneshot in which bob can't sleep and asks for help <3

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

tags: fluff, nightmares, mentions of the void, past drug abuse, if i missed any please lmk a/n: atp i'm pulling this out of my ass i have no motivation. (send asks pls) enjoy :(

word count: 690

The soft hum of the tv filled the emptiness of the room, drowning out the sound of the city that never sleeps just outside the window. Bob's head rested on the plush blue pillow that he'd turned over about 50 times that night in an attempt to find a comfortable position. His heavy gaze settled on the smooth of the ceiling as his hands gripped the edge of the duvet.

He was never going to sleep like this.

With an exasperated sigh, he threw the cover off and sat up, feeling around in the darkness for his slippers and shirt before trudging through his room into the hallway of the tower. He hadn't been able to sleep since he'd turned the whole of New York into shadows and plummeted into his personal hell. The Void calls out to him when he's most vulnerable. Bob shook his head as he snapped out of his thoughts and continued to walk, he'd exited his room and moved down the hallway, standing on the other side of another door. For a moment he hesitated, his hand held up as he was about to knock. He was reconsidering waking you up again for something as small as this. He was selfish for even thinking you'd help him out again. That was until he heard shuffling behind the door. Without thinking, his knuckles rapped on the hardwood and he held his breath as your quiet footsteps made their way to the door.

You answered the door to a reluctant apologetic smile as Bob stood in the doorway, his index finger scratching at the skin around his thumbnail.

"Can I," He started, cut off by your hand wrapping around his arm and tugging him inside, shutting the door gently so you wouldn't disturb the others. Escorting him to your bed, Bob allowed his body to be maneuvered onto your soft mattress as he started to apologise for waking you up.

You shushed him, hands resting on his cheeks as you stood in front of him, thumbs rubbing in a soothing motion. "I was awake anyway. Just tell me what's going on, okay?"

Bob let out a heavy sigh and let himself rest in your hands, his shoulders falling in relaxation. "My brain is too loud." He sighed, eyes meeting yours once again. "I'm just itching for something to distract me, really."

"Oh, dear. You need to get some rest." You uttered and sat beside him, arm wrapping around his middle to pull him closer. He seemed to recoil at your sudden touch, only melting into it when he knew what you were doing.

"Lay with me?" Oh god, those puppy eyes would be your undoing. Bob followed you as you lay down on your bed, head positioned on your pillow. You were well aware of Bob's past struggles as well as his current ones but those wouldn't stop you from holding him as close as you can.

It was times like these, dead in the night, when Bob would crave that high he once felt. Everything has been numb since then, like he'd been living under water, until he met you. You brought that feeling of ecstasy back in the best way possible and it was much healthier than anything he could ever take. His face now buried in the junction between your shoulder and neck, eyes shut and hand on your waist as he breathed in time with you.

"Thank you." He whispered breathlessly, relief filling his voice, no longer shaky and unsure but relaxed and content. Your hands threaded through his soft hair, playing with it mindlessly as you zoned out. You replied with a hum of acknowledgement as your own eyes shut alongside his. You'd take any version of him like this, void, sentry, broken, whole - all of it was him, and you'd take nothing else.

Bob's eyes opened to the warm light pooling through the blinds on your window, his tiredness sated for the first time in what must have been days. They scanned the room before settling back on your sleeping face and he realised that this is where he belonged.