#considering putting this on my main once and for all

[certaimromance]

✶⋆.˚ Blue Moon.

“Traditionally, something that happens (to you) rarely or never.”

Spencer Reid x Mystical!reader

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Summary: Spending time with your new partner on the road can reveal surprising things about him that you didn't know before.

Words: 2k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!bau!reader. mentions of serial killers, victims, religion, high school trauma. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I want to say thank you all for the love you give to the first chapter! I didn’t expect it, and I hope you like this and all the chapters that are coming. I’m putting all of myself into making this funny, deep, and romantic at the same damn time.

You’d been in worse cars.

There was the beat-up stakeout sedan where an agent chewed gum like he was waging war on his own mouth, jaw snapping and smacking with such ferocity it sounded like a percussion section gone rogue. There was the suffocating silence in Hotch’s car, where the weight of his presence felt like ten extra pounds of gravity pressing down on your chest, making every breath a conscious effort. And who could forget that cursed van with Morgan’s playlist—Hits to Impress Women Who Know Better—on an endless loop, like a bad joke without a punchline.

But this?

This was an entirely new flavor of hell, and it came with the soft symphony of rustling paper and nervous energy. It was a punishment that your boss had refused to lift until he deemed it necessary.

Dr. Spencer Reid sat beside you in the passenger seat, knees folded awkwardly like some twitchy origami sculpture, his long legs seemingly too big for the cramped space beneath the dashboard. His worn messenger bag rested between his thighs, overstuffed and fraying at the edges, the faded fabric begging for retirement after countless semesters of academic battles.

He was fully engrossed in the case file.

Correction: completely obsessed.

His thumb was constantly wet with saliva, delicately licking the paper before flipping to the next page with the precision of a surgeon handling a scalpel. Each turn made a faint, incessant shhhk, a tiny but relentless soundtrack to the drive. He scribbled quick, neat annotations in the margins, little hieroglyphics of his own devising, before resuming his careful reading.

You gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles whitening under your gloves, and forced your gaze back to the stretch of highway unwinding through the cold gray afternoon. Outside, the landscape was blurred by a thin mist that clung to the bare branches like ghosts, and your breath still fogged up the inside of the windshield despite the heater’s best efforts.

The heater’s warmth was a pale consolation, fighting a losing battle against the creeping chill that seeped in around the edges of the window.

“Okay,” you said, without looking away from the road, “I’m pretty sure it’s a federal offense to make that much paper noise before noon.”

Spencer didn’t even glance up, his eyes scanning the pages like they held the secrets of the universe. “It’s 12:07,” he answered matter-of-factly, voice soft but precise.

You shot him a flat, accusing look. “So you’ve chosen violence.”

Another shhhk, another scribble, then a pause long enough for you to seriously consider pulling over and asking him to finish his entire dissertation before you hit the school parking lot.

“Seriously,” you sighed, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel as you flicked on the turn signal, “do you need to read it right now? We’re already on the way to the crime scene. The school isn’t going anywhere. You’ll have plenty of time to wow the locals with your encyclopedic recall of obscure footwear tread patterns and locker combinations once we get there.”

“I’m reviewing the psychological profiles of the victims,” he replied calmly, barely lifting his gaze. “Also, none of them wore shoes with particularly distinguishable treads. One pair of Vans, two Converse, and one generic off-brand sneaker. Very common.”

You blinked, incredulous.

“You actually remembered that?”

He finally looked up at you with a blink of confusion, like the question itself was weird. “Yes?”

Damn it, you knew he was a smart guy, but you never paid enough attention to notice that he was that smart.

You stared back at the road ahead, exasperated beyond words. “I swear to God, if you weren’t so painfully smart, I’d accuse you of being a sleep-deprived alien wearing a human skin suit.”

A long silence stretched between you like a taut wire.

Then, faintly, his voice cut through: “That’s…surprisingly specific.”

“It’s been a long week,” you muttered.

A brief pause.

Then, shhhk, the relentless rustle of paper again.

You finally slammed your hand down on the radio dial, cutting off the academic soundtrack with decisive force.

Classic rock burst through the speakers, slicing through the car like a warm knife through frostbitten silence.

Spencer blinked, momentarily scandalized.

“Do you mind if we keep it off?” he asked, voice small and defensive, like you’d just interrupted his morning meditation.

You gave him a long, slow look, one eyebrow arching in skeptical disbelief. “Right. God forbid Stevie Nicks interrupts the pure sanctity of your brain chemistry.”

He blinked again, clearly unsure whether you were teasing or serious.

“Music with lyrics,” he elaborated carefully, “engages the language centers of the brain. It splits attention.”

You slowly withdrew your hand from the dial as if you were putting away a weapon. “Right. No music then.”

He stared at you.

You stared at the road.

The heater wheezed.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you added a brand-new note to your mental dossier titled How to Annoy Spencer Reid in Confined Spaces. You wrote:

— Play Fleetwood Mac.

— Songs with lyrics.

— Breathe.

You exhaled loudly through your nose, an exaggerated sigh of suffering, and beside you, Spencer’s pen paused mid-scribble. The scratch of it against paper stopped cold. Blessed silence.

For five whole miles, you drove in relative peace. The faint wail of a guitar solo played in your mind, like a nostalgic classic rock station providing a soundtrack that gave you some peace of mind. Outside, the winter light hung low over the highway, flat and silver, casting long shadows across the asphalt. Your knuckles were stiff on the steering wheel, fingers flexing every now and then to keep the blood flowing in the chill.

You didn’t know if it was the heater trying its best against the December air or the sheer absurdity of the last few days, but something in you finally began to unclench. Even your irritation with Reid—the fidgeting, the rustle of case notes, the muttering to himself like he was solving three crimes at once—had started to burn itself out. The silence between you wasn’t friendly yet, but it wasn’t hostile either. It settled around you like an old coat. Slightly itchy.

You glanced at the GPS, then at the man beside you: bookish and serious, perched stiffly in the passenger seat like someone who wasn’t sure how chairs worked. His profile was sharp in the afternoon light—cheekbone, nose, brow—a study in concentration and underlying tension.

Well. If you were going to be stuck with him for this case, you might as well entertain yourself.

“So,” you said casually, not looking away from the road, “we’re going to a high school. Want to talk about it?”

Spencer blinked, visibly startled. “Talk about what?”

“High school,” you said, waving one gloved hand vaguely through the air. “You know. Puberty. Locker drama. Tragic cafeteria food. Crying in the bathroom between third and fourth period.”

He shifted in his seat, his spine somehow growing straighter. “I didn’t go to high school in the traditional sense.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Meaning…?”

“I was enrolled in college by the time I was twelve,” he said, like he was just listing a fact about the weather.

Oh, another thing you didn't know.

You blinked at him. “Twelve.”

He nodded, clearly used to this reaction.

“You mean to tell me you skipped the universal rite of passage known as failing a math test and lying to your parents about it?”

“I taught linear algebra to undergrads when I was fourteen,” he offered, as if that cleared things up.

You made a wounded, borderline scandalized sound. “Oh my God. No wonder you’re like this.”

He tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Like someone who thinks emotional trauma is best solved with a bibliography.”

His lips twitched. Just barely. You couldn’t tell if it was amusement or mild offense. Probably both. That was kind of his thing.

“Did you at least go to prom?” You asked, half-mocking, half-genuinely curious.

He stared ahead for a moment, eyes scanning the horizon like it held the right answer. “No prom.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

There was a pause, and when he finally spoke, it was softer than you expected. “No one wanted to go with the weird kid.”

You blinked.

It hit you, not like a dramatic gut-punch, but something quieter. Smaller. The kind of thing that slipped under the armor before you even realized you’d let it in. Like a pebble in your shoe you hadn’t noticed until it started to sting.

Your eyes flicked back to the road. Asphalt stretched ahead in clean, empty lines, the midafternoon sky cold and overcast. The trees blurred past the windows, all brittle branches and leftover frost. Inside the car, it was warm, but not warm enough. You could still feel the chill in your sleeves.

You glanced at him again. He didn’t look wounded, just…far. Like he was watching a memory flicker across some old reel behind his eyes. Like he could still remember the way it felt to be on the outside of everything, like he still could feel it sometimes.

“Everyone was weird in high school, Reid,” you said, voice lighter now, threading warmth through it on purpose. “I think they were just too stupid to realize it.”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, barely, his mouth tugged upward. A small, reluctant smile. Not the showy kind. The kind you had to look for. The kind that meant something but not really.

And for the first time since the case started, the air in the car felt a little less cold.

He folded his arms, hunching a bit like he was trying not to look too pleased. “Alright, your turn. What were you like in school?”

You grinned, a little too proudly. “Oh, I was a total cynic. Textbook nihilist. Black hoodie, eyeliner, permanent scowl. Sat in the back row like I was contractually obligated to hate everything.”

“That…” Spencer’s brow lifted slightly, a smirk threatening the corner of his mouth, “explains a lot.”

You laughed—actual, surprised laughter that cracked open your chest for a second. “I didn’t believe in anything, okay? Not God, not fate, definitely not authority. I was a walking eye roll.”

Spencer turned his head toward you slightly, curiosity glinting in his eyes beneath the slow wash of gray light through the windshield. “So…what changed?”

You hesitated.

Outside, the sun flickered through bare branches like something was moving just behind the clouds. You focused on the road, your fingers tightening on the wheel.

“I think I just hit the wall,” you said after a beat. “Emotionally, spiritually, whatever. I couldn’t keep believing in nothing. It was like…I needed something. A reason to keep moving. So I started looking.”

He was silent, but you could feel him listening. Not just hearing, really listening. You glanced over. His brow was furrowed slightly, not in doubt, just in effort.

“And…did you find it?” He asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded once, eyes still forward. “Yeah. A pull. A pattern. A whisper, maybe. Something that told me there’s more happening than what we see. I don’t know. Some people call it energy or fate. I just call it necessary.”

There was a long pause. When you looked over, he was watching you, incredibly not judging, just…trying to get it.

“I don’t understand it,” Spencer said eventually, careful and honest.

“I know,” you said, glancing over with a crooked smile. “And I don’t get how your brain works either. I’ve literally seen you argue with statistics. Like, out loud. Passionately.”

“They were being misused,” he muttered, stiffly.

You nudged his elbow. “See? Look at us. We’re bonding.”

“I think you’re making fun of me.”

“Only a little.”

Outside, the scenery passed by in small-town stillness. Red brick schools. Chain-link fences. Yellowed grass and quiet sidewalks. The kind of place where people shove secrets behind front doors.

You reached out and adjusted the heater again. The hum grew louder, the vents huffing out warm air in tired bursts. Beside you, Spencer was shifting slightly, reaching down toward his bag.

You glanced at him, brow raised. “If I hear one more shhhk of paper, I will start singing witchy manifestation songs at full volume.”

His hand froze. Then slowly, very slowly, he retreated back to his lap.

Progress.

Tag list ❤︎ ︎: @withloverosse @jisungchan

Send me an ask or comment here if you would like to be added or removed!

[mona-risms]

Also in way less wholesome thoughts about Rumi, I think she has a insane breeding kink.

I don’t even think she would know it until she slept with someone. But I feel like that would send her into a feral frenzy.

Like, all that shame and guilt her whole life from being a demon, and all the other repressed emotions she had to bottle up would explode if she was fucking someone and they told her they wanted to have kids with her.

I feel like for irony sake that may just turn her into a succubus. A simple fuck would turn into a day long feral mating marathon.

Like it would probably work it’s way through the whole living space, starting in the bedroom, for an hour or two until the bed is completely ruined, tears from claws, a broken bed frame, stained with sweat, squirt, and seed.

Moving on to the couch eventually that would get much of the same treatment.

Pressed against those big windows, juices seeping down the glass.

On the kitchen table with claw marks in the wood from Rumi.

Using the cabinets to keep her standing as you rail her eventually pulling them off the walls.

But neither of you care.

It’s not pretty sex.

You’re both flushed, scratchs, bite marks, squirt, seed, spit, and sweating all over. Ran ragged like you just ran a triathlon.

Rumis hole looks like a glazed donut from how much seed has been put in and spilled out of her at all angles.

By the time you are halfway through moans have just devolved into her shrieking from overstim.

But she just can’t stop herself. And you don’t wanna stop either.

People are calling phones… Rumis missing a interview rn.

Eventually the girls just find you both passed out in the middle of the apartment covered in all the fluids that could possibly come from sex passed out from exhaustion.

Sincerely

Tsaritsa Pyro Archon Anon

I have a breeding kink too there we go we're Perfectly compatible! And this is obviously why me and Rumi should be married!!!!

But fr shit would go CRAZY HELLO 😭😭😭😭😭 I mean tbf a demon's gotta have their sustenance somehow 😜😜😜😜 JOKING JOKING maybe not joking shhh you're out here doing my job for me fr though actuallg LMFAOOAAO

Her bedroom must be so fucking wrecked before you two migrate to the balcony, a mix of fluids everywhere as she finally lets out the loudest fucking noises instead of her biting it down and restraining them, and then to the shared living space. Like Zoey and Mira are both out for promotional material they'd probably have to do individually, so they left much earlier and now the penthouse is empty as hell, save for the two of you

NOTHING survives in the shared space though you're right in this—EVERY surface is thoroughly defiled and utilised. Should Rumi care? Yes. Would she care under different circumstances? Definitely yes. But right now the only thing in her mind is making sure she drains you dry, everything else blurs away from the sheer intensity of your coupling

If you're using an ejaculating strap then ugh FUCK yes it makes no difference to her as long as she feels full and thoroughly bred. If anything? She'd probably want you to get the strap with the most capacity. But is it a good idea, if you have a working dick and could Potentially get her pregnant? No, probably not, but the way you fucked her and never let go, the way you were so achingly sincere in the way you'd Want to have kids with Her. Even despite the whole half-demon thing, the main insecurity she's had for her entire life? She'll take the risk for once either way, after avoiding risks on herself for so long

Mira and Zoey most likely got contacted by Bobby in a panic bc "WHERE IS SHE??????" so they come back home.....and SCREAM at the state because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST??????? SORRY didn't REALISE they needed HAZMAT SUITS????????????? You probably get woken up and honestly good luck trying to explain why the Fuck there's so much damage and. Fluids. EVERYWHERE. They're never letting either of you live this down, ESPECIALLY Rumi considering she caused most of the extreme damage (thanks demon heritage!!!!) and how she's stained and dripping nonstop 😭

If you even dare try to explain what happened to Bobby the poor guy might faint. But it's okay it's why they're paying him the 3% right.....though he might need to be compensated via 4% GAHAHAHAHA

[tofics]

I finally made time to listen to this and I am so glad I did. Let's dive straight in, shall we?

This was my very first time hearing your voice, and I feel the need to point out what a pleasant voice you have, Alex! And I do mean this in the most sincere way, coming from someone who can be very very picky about what voices to listen to. I know this wasn't the point of the podcast, but I had to let you know :)

I took notes while listening, so I'll just be going through them and kind of sort them into something more tangible as I go.

It was awesome getting to hear so many "behind the scene" thoughts from you about your writing. There were a couple of small things you mentioned that I wanted to comment on just for the fun of it:

Something that draws you to a fanfiction is if characters are canonically written. It's funny you should say that, because your characters are some of the most in-tune-with-canon characters that I have ever read. I've mostly consumed your Dean stories, and even in an AU setting (I'm looking at you, Smoke Eater) he is 100% Dean as seen on the show. As far as fanfiction goes, that puts yours on a pedestal imo.

You considered doing something with Dean and Yellowstone for the Jacklesverse Bingo. (insert gif of me hysterically crying and hyperventilating) I've only just started watching Yellowstone this year and I am obsessed. I think you would have fried all my synapses if you had gone down that road, in the best way possible 😁

Hearing you talk about your friends on Tumblr and knowing you've included me in that group felt so so special! I'm so proud to be able to call you my friend on here. 🥹🫶🏼

But now! On to the actual topic of the episode :)

First of all, I found it very interesting that despite your own heritage, you grew up with a white reader in mind. Just goes to show how predominantly a white person is and has been the main character in so much of media that that's what your brain defaulted to.

I also thought your discussion about what makes an OC an OC and where a reader insert stops being a reader insert suuuper interesting. Because that's a genuine question! Where does a blank slate stop being a blank slate, and how much character do you have to give to the reader role in a reader insert fic for the story still to work, right? I loved to hear your take on it, especially where you said that writing reader inserts is basically like writing OCs without giving them a name. - I had never thought about it that way!

But of course, you're right. Because a reader that is an active participant in a story can't be a completely blank slate. They have to be assigned certain traits, not necessarily body-wise but character wise - if you're doing more than a drabble, imo. For there to be dialogue and a story that feels full, that feels alive, the reader has to have some sort of character to be a character.

Which brings me to my next point: projectability is always a thing of perspective and the ability to put yourself into someone's shoes. As far as fanfiction goes, the reader insert genre tries to make that as easy as possible by offering a mostly blank slate (that is very often white-coded, unfortunately, but that's not the point I'm trying to make in this paragraph). I have seen people complain more than once about the character!reader being unrelatable because of certain character traits and/or backstories that were assigned to them, and I wonder: people, where has your media literacy gone? Do they not teach to adapt to a person's perspective via literature in schools anymore? Must all media cater exactly to your every taste, down to each very nuance?

And I write all of this distinctively separating characteristic traits from body traits. I am not at all talking about the lack of ethnic representation within the x reader genre.

I love how you give personality to your reader characters, Alex. Especially when it comes to your own representation. You said in the podcast that you were worried about how the traits you assigned to your reader in the Midnight Espresso-verse would be received by your audience and that you received great feedback. I want to reiterate that by saying how despite myself not having the same background as you, I could absolutely relate to the plus-size aspect of the reader, as well as her love for cooking. You said it so beautifully in the podcast, that this version of the reader is one that came from the intent of Dean having a (Latino) girlfriend that nurtured him in the same way he nurtures the people around him, and I fully 100% could relate to that as well :)

Which might be my very complicated and long way of saying: Please do not worry about how much the reader can adapt to the traits you're giving to the character!reader. If most character!readers have been predominantly white for the longest time and so so many people that where not white made it work, then so can we white folks when we are given a reader that does not fit all of "our" typical criteria.

It made me very happy to hear that you're seeing more and more diversity within the SPN fandom these days. I've spent most of my time in the PPCU fandom this past year and all across it, but specifically in the Joel Miller fandom, there have been too many racist instances. It's great to hear that it's going better in other fandoms!

Which brings me to my next point - the anon request you got that led you to writing Unravel Me 👀 Wow. I haven't read it yet. It was on my TBR list anyway, but hearing you talk about how it came to be and how much thought you put into it (understandably so) it's now an absolute must-read for me. (Sort of unrelated but still related: I've seen your playlist covers for the story, and - wow??? A masterpiece??? Visually, I mean?! The EFFORT. I'll be speaking about this in a second, but I needed to mention it now in case I forget! Gorgeous!)

Another point that had me thinking a lot was the question about how much of an immigrant's identity should be kept and how much should be adapted to the country they've moved to also captivated me. I know US politics in regards to immigrants are ""problematic"" atm to say the least, and it's been a widely discussed topic over here in Germany for years now as well, especially with the heavy influx of immigrants over the past years. I can't imagine how complicated it must be, figuring out a sense of self that both fits to where you live and still keeps the core parts of who you are and were before coming to said country.

I want to wrap this up by saying how incredibly impressed I am every single time I hear/read about how you prep for your stories. I think you are by far the most in-depth fanfiction writer that I know. You put so much research into it, and not just for The Honorable Choice, but everything you put out. I'm struggling to find the correct words to properly express how admiring I find it, especially for a story like The Honorable Choice where you take on the perspective of someone of a different ethnic background than you.

You are an inspiration, Alex. Truly.

Thank you for welcoming me into the writing space when I came back. Thank you for answering every question I had, and thank you for the work you put into all of your stories.

To you, to your talent, your inspiration and work ethic, and to many more stories to come! 🩵

Racial & Ethnic Representation in Fanfiction

[🎙️ Podcast Interview]

Hey, friends! Sandra and Kasey, the lovely hosts of @idlingintheimpalapodcast — the podcast for all things SPN and fanfiction — invited me back on the pod for an interview on a topic that's very close to my heart…

With @rubyvhs, we talked about the fun moments and challenges about reading and writing fanfiction that represents specific racial and ethnic cultures, being bicultural/multicultural, the immigrant experience, and much more.

I offered my own experience as a Latina POC writing in the fandom space, specifically Supernatural and The Boys (and adjacent Jackles fandoms).

Check it out here: ⤵️

Interview Timestamps –

(Plus fic recs, SPN writer/reader shoutouts, and more! Links to all the fics we mentioned are at each time stamp.)

2:54 – When did you start writing fanfiction, and when did you join SPN fandom?

⟡ You can check out my first author interview with Sandra and Kasey over here. We chatted about Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles’ early roles, the best and worst seasons of SPN, the joys and pains of writing Soldier Boy, and much, much more. For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

6:18 – What is your ethnic, racial, and cultural background? (And how me and Sandra bond over “food and family” ties between Hispanics/Latinos and Italians.)

13:05 – The immigrant experience in America, what you take with you from the “Motherland,” the struggles of bicultural identity, my personal experience being a second-generation child of an immigrant family, and Sandra’s experience as a first-generation child of Italian immigrants.

16:58 – What do you look for when you’re reading fanfiction? (Canon-compliant, AU, romance, etc.) Does the length of a story matter?

19:52 – Bonus: The merits of drabble writing vs. long-fic writing.

25:54 – Have you ever actively searched for fanfiction that represented your ethnicity? (Whenever I do, it’s like finding gold.) Plus, the challenge of writing reader characters, the “gray area” of writing reader characters like OCs.

32:38 – The inherent “bias” of reading and writing reader characters as White. The concept of diversity being “cool” in popular media, TV shows, and movies is still pretty new.

36:36 – Why I started writing reader characters that might have a specific body type, race, and/or ethnicity.

Examples:

⟡ Midnight Espresso – Dean Winchester x Plus-size Latina!Reader

⟡ If I Stay – Dean Winchester x Plus-size!Reader

⟡ 10 ‘Til Midnight – Professor!Dean Winchester x Plus-size Grad Student!Reader

⟡ Unravel Me – Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader

⟡ The Honorable Choice & Outlander – Cowboy!Dean Winchester x OFC

40:14 – The fun challenges: like giving Dean a partner who takes care of him as much as he takes care of others in Midnight Espresso.

45:28 – The BIG challenges: like writing Soldier Boy being himself with a “person of color” (POC) in this new series, Unravel Me. What even is a POC? Where do you start with Soldier Boy, the Sandra-proclaimed “bowl of fishhooks?"

51:38 – Is there ever an element of fear when you publicly post a story that represents your culture, which is something very personal to you? What happens when you get haters in the comments?

1:05:33 – When and how did you begin to break out of the “ingrained biases” in your writing? (AKA: Always assuming my own characters are White.)

1:08:04 – When did you decide to explore writing plus-size!readers?

1:13:20 – What has your experience been in writing a race/culture outside of your personal experience? The Honorable Choice and Outlander, a western AU where Dean Winchester falls in love with a Native American Lakota Indian. (Shoutout to @jacklesversebingo!)

Plus, the ethical responsibility to “do no harm” when you represent different cultures, and answering question of not only can I write this, but should I write this?

1:32:42 – What advice would you give a writer interested in writing about a culture outside of their own that they don’t have first-hand knowledge of? How can a writer avoid cultural appropriation if their goal is cultural appreciation? How important is a sensitivity reader/beta reader for this effort?

1:40:35 – Final thoughts on diversity and representation of culture in fanfiction, whether it’s your own or someone else’s:

“Write what you know. Write what you can research. Write what you’re interested in. Remember that words have power, so be careful how you use them.”

1:45:30 – Sandra and Kasey’s outro: The importance of representation and diversity in fandom.

I hope you enjoy the ride!~ 💜

💗💗💗 Shoutouts to some of my beautiful friends and lovely readers who've supported my attempts to explore ethnic and cultural diversity in my writing:

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @rizlowwritessortof @roseblue373

@tofics @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @deansbbyx @waywardlatina

@supernotnatural2005 @wayward-dreamer @spnwoman @waywardxwords @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean (shoutout to your 500 follower fic challenge at around 19:52 😘) @siampie @bettystonewell @wvffles

@iprobablyshipit91 @my-stories-vault @littlesoulshine @thatonewriter15 @jessjad

@deans-spinster-witch @winchestergirl2 @kazsrm67 @chernayawidow @jackles010378

@jollyhunter @leigh70 @foxyjwls007 @beakaleak32 @alwaystiredandconfused

[mahou-furbies]

The results for the Favourite Precure poll 2025 are in!

Top 7 Cures:

Cure La Mer (132 points)

Cure Sky (113 points)

Cure Milky (109 points)

Cure Flora (104 points)

Cure Blossom (98 points)

Cure Prism (94 points)

Cure Moonlight (91 points)

Top 7 side Cures:

Cure Mofurun (59 points)

Cure Infini (53 points)

Cure Echo (39 points)

Regina / Cure Joker (38 points)

"Cure Daifuku" (36 points)

"Cure Satoru" (34 points)

Dark Precure (Heartcatch) (33 points)

Victory for Laura once again! She also won last year's poll and even outside that the top spots mainly have familiar faces, though there has been some movement too. The highest placing Idol Precure was Kyun-Kyun, ranking 26th with 45 points.

Last year Cure Fortune was the only main Cure not to get any votes, but this time she got three, with the highest being 4th favourite. Good for her! Meanwhile Cures Ace, Earth, Yum-Yum and Finale did not get any votes, better luck next time.

As for the side Cures, I was not surprised at Mofurun, Infini and Regina doing well, but I had no idea Echo this popular.

Thanks to everyone who voted, and especially for any comments, those are always fun to read.

Comments and Top 25/20 under cut:

Thank you for organizing the poll o/

Let's go Parfait! 💚

There are so many Precure now. .. I had to have another tab open to remember them all!

None of my favourites made it last year, so I am hoping this is it!

COME ON CURE KAGURA (has only just seen Dancing Star subbed)

LET'S GO PIKARIO CMON BABY WOOOOOOO!!! THAT'S MY GIRL!!!!!

I love Cure Sunshine so much okay. I just love her a lot. I want her to win

Go Regina!

Choosing to rank my top 3 is so hard… They're pretty much equal in my eyes.

Sky <3

I shudder to think what the 25th anniversary movie will look like

okay but fr dark dream and cure blossom mirage in particular are the goats of non-all star cures

this was hard. i love so many of these characters so much! as me again tomorrow and my answer will probably look pretty different. the only one i'm confident is putting mofurun as my number 1 minor cure. my main cure rankings thouh are all over the place. plus there are many seasons i need to actually watch to get a real opinion on (there are more then 20 seasons. i've seen a good chunk but a good chunk are still on the list)

Hope that we will get an actual Green Cure someday

Geez I need to get back to my rewatch

Kinda unfair to not include Black Pepper while Pikario and the bunny boys are there 💔💔

i hope we'll get a gemstone themed season next year 🙏

Kimi To Idol Precure Is My Favorite Precure Series! I hope it becomes a sub franchise in the big franchise!

Cure names last two seasons aren't following the previously estabilished rules… also please Toei stop naming the lead after the season, it is my pet peeve.

Where's Bunbi! I wanna vote for Bunbi! He's so bby girl🎀✨️

Thank you for this poll. I'm interested in the results!!!! :-)

Rating the minor Cures is so difficult, because I like a lot more of them than three! Also, some of them count as duos for me… Michiru/Kaoru and Satoru/Daifuku to be specific. I'm glad these characters are included in the poll though because they're so important!!!

Shout out to all my other favorite Cures! (roughly half of them lol) They're all first place in my heart <3

I haven’t even heard of half of these minor cures

ive mainly watched tropre, sky and wonpre

Hope my 7th favorite cure vote helps Cure Fortune to get at least a vote :,v

[Regarding Black Pepper, I considered him but in the end did not include him, because I thought he belonged to a clear non-Precure character "class" as a Cook Fighter, unlike Pikario and the bunny duo whose have similar powers and aesthetic to the Cures. So I felt that if I included him it would open up the debate for all other ally characters.]

Side Cures

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[elecman108]

I'd like to say I was drawing more this month, but tbh, with work on Outbreak and one of my coworkers getting sick (on top of going from good mental health at the beginning of the month to baaaad mental health towards the end) I really don't have much to show for it.

So here's my Shapeshifting Horny Fey Artist who's in an artistic slump going on adventures in the material plane and having existential crises... Or more likely, my man is memeing on himself.

[littlegrapejuice]

Out Of Your League | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: The whole world knows that you're dating Max, but a majority of people don't understand why. So when you're finally back in the paddock, you have to remind the grid that he's the only one you want.

Author's Note: okayyy so this was my first request ever like that's absolutely insane😭 whoever's the anon who asked for this a few weeks ago, i hope you enjoy it!! I tried to stay faithful to the request but i kinda went off script at some point idk i did my best lol<3

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

“What does she see in him?”

“Why are they even together?”

“How did he end up with her?”

Those were questions you often heard whenever you and your boyfriend were out in public. The same questions were always present in your comments every time you posted a picture of you together.

And every time, you never understood why people wondered.

First of all, it was none of their business – his words.

Second of all, it should be the other way around – your words.

Being part of the entertainment world, you were always under the spotlight as an actress. You had been part of this work area for a while already, starting with small roles as background characters in some films before finally being a main character in a TV show years later. This had led to the fans gradually getting to know more about your acting range, and everyone eventually just came to love the actress who played all those different characters.

You knew that the recognition you were getting over the years was nothing to be shy of. You were extremely proud of yourself and you understood your worth, but you were just an actress.

So why did people think that you were out of Max Verstappen’s league? He was a Formula One driver, and a four-times – in a row! – world champion. He had broken so many records, won so many races, had twice that number of podiums, and was probably the greatest of his generation.

But it seemed that next to you, everything Max had accomplished didn’t matter anymore.

He had seen it the first time he brought you to the paddock. Everyone had been gushing about Hollywood’s rising star and suddenly, F1’s own star wasn’t so relevant anymore. No one had expected you to date Max Verstappen, and the perfect weekend he had was quickly overshadowed by your presence. Max had been cropped out of pictures, only you remaining in them; people had asked for your autograph more than Max’s; and every interview Max had done during the weekend had mentioned you at least once.

Safe to say, Max was considered a loser by the world whenever he was next to you. Which is why a very small part of him was kind of glad when you were unable to attend most races due to shooting. People would still find a way to talk about you, asking Max about your current film, but the focus was mostly back on him.

…..

Eventually, you were free to come see Max race when you were done with the press tour for the next film you starred in. Max knew what to expect once again, when you’d be entering the paddock together, but there was one thing he hadn’t thought of.

Compared to the last time you had come to a race, the grid had changed a lot. Neither Daniel nor Checo were here anymore, there had been quite a lot of drivers changing teams, and most important: a quarter of the drivers were rookies whom you had never met.

So when Max casually told his team that you would be coming to the next race, word had travelled fast around the paddock. Soon enough, all the drivers knew that you would be there next weekend.

Although the media left you alone for the time being, the grid had gradually swarmed you when you entered the paddock on Friday. Max hadn’t been with you, having arrived earlier to meet with his team, so you were alone against the drivers.

It had started with Lando and Charles.

“Haven't seen you in a while”, Lando pointed out as he began to walk beside you.

“I have to agree. Last time I was here, you had never won a race.”

“And now look at me!” Lando put his arm around your shoulders. “I’m leading the championship, and soon enough I’ll take the title from your boyfriend.”

“If you do win this year, Max still has three more titles than you.” You gently removed Lando’s arm and patted his back. “And I do love a multiple times world champion”, you added with a proud smile.

“Is that your criteria in a man?” Charles eventually asked.

“Maybe… that’s why I’d be more interested in your teammate than you, Charles.” You gave a wink to the Monegasque before swiftly leaving the two drivers to make your way to the Red Bull hospitality.

“Damn… she got you good, man.”

“Lando, she rejected you too.” Charles sighed. “Still don’t know what she sees in him.”

“I swear,” Lando agreed. “What’s a few titles when she could have a charming driver like me, who’s currently in the fastest car!”

“And if it’s Max living in Monaco that interests her, then why not go for the actual Monegasque of the grid?”

You had known that those two would’ve been the first drivers to approach you. Now, the question was: who would be the next ones?

Fortunately, you had been able to peacefully watch FP1 in Max’s garage. But as soon as the session ended, you were once again finding yourself with a duo of drivers next to you. The former AlphaTauri pairing had come up to you, and you kind of knew already what arguments to expect from them.

“So, you’re back in the paddock. Did you notice I was in the garage right next to you?” Yuki asked.

“I did, indeed. Congrats on finally getting that seat, Yuki.” You were being genuine, having always known that the Japanese driver deserved to be in a top team.

“Is Red Bull one of your criterias, then?” Pierre wondered. “Because I could remind you that I also drove for them.”

“Yeah, but who’s still in that team?” You countered. Before Yuki could add something in his favour, you shut down any hope he could have. “And thank you for any restaurant recommendations you can give me, but I’ll go try them out with Max only – I don’t think he’ll enjoy you trying to make him third wheel, again.”

That be told, you then bid the two drivers goodbye as you felt your phone vibrating. This was the sign that Max was looking for you, as you two had planned to grab lunch before FP2. Yuki and Pierre watched from afar as you hugged your boyfriend, before you both left their sight.

“Still don’t understand how he ended up with her…” Yuki complained. “Getting the Red Bull seat was actually worthless.”

“Also she could do way better than a guy from the Netherlands!” Pierre exclaimed. “I’m French, I could bring her to the city of love.”

“And I could cook for her,” Yuki added. “I don’t think I ever saw Max eat anything that he made himself.”

…..

“So, how many of them have come up to you for now?” Max asked before taking a bite of his food.

“I’ll let you guess”, you replied as a challenge.

“Maybe three?” Max wondered. “I saw Pierre and Yuki earlier, so that’s at least two. And I wanna bet on Lando having been the first.”

“You’re almost right; it was actually four. Charles was with Lando,” you explained.

“Not surprising.”

“Well, I’m apparently really charming according to your work friends.”

“You’re breaking hearts left and right, should I be worried?” Max teasingly asked.

“If anyone’s getting their heart broken, it’d be you breaking mine. I’m way too in love with you to break yours.”

“Not what the media nor your fans expect”, Max countered.

“Fuck the media,” you immediately said. “Not my fans, though. But fuck the media.”

“Fuck the media”, Max repeated with a chuckle as he raised his glass for you to clink yours with.

…..

While waiting for FP2 to start, you observed the cars lined in the pit lane from Max’s garage. Your boyfriend was one of the closest to the pit exit, which meant that he would be one of the first on track. Looking at whose car was currently parked in front of Red Bull, you recognised George’s Mercedes.

As if sensing your gaze on him, his head turned to the right and you knew he saw you as well. The Brit waved at you, and your only reaction was to shake your head. Sorry George, you thought before you saw him drive towards the pit exit. You wouldn’t entertain him, even if he came up to you during the weekend. That was an agreement with Max: anyone else was game, except Toto Wolff’s drivers. So that’s you knew that now that Lewis had moved to Ferrari, you could expect to see him this weekend.

For now though, you were simply enjoying watching your boyfriend top the practice session while catching up with some Red Bull employees – even Christian Horner came to talk with you for a bit. And although you tried to cut the conversation short, it was still pleasantly surprising to know that he liked having you here – as it helped boost Max’s morale.

…..

Time passed by quicker than you expected. Talking with Max’s team had distracted you a bit; and next thing you knew, you were leaving the track with your boyfriend to go back to your hotel. Due to the fact that it was still early, Max had organised a padel match with other drivers so you were only going back to your shared room for a short time. You had wanted to refuse the invitation at first – padel wasn’t really your thing as you preferred actual tennis, but Max had somehow guilt-tripped you into coming to support him after having skipped so many races.

So here you were now, sitting on a bench on the side of the court. Max had teamed up with Alex; Carlos and Lando against them. Lando knew not to flirt with you while Max was literally five feet away, but it seemed that the Williams drivers didn’t really care.

Everytime Carlos would score a point, he would immediately look at you before sending you a wink. You honestly missed half of them, as your eyes were either focused on your phone or your boyfriend. Alex, however, was more subtle. His flirting happened more in the way that he kept walking back to where you were during games, pretending to need a drink. Deciding to play into it a little bit, you would always have his water bottle ready and give it to him wherever he approached you. Also, you had to admit that his smile was absolutely charming, always bright and welcoming.

But even after all that, it was with Max that you left the court. Hand in hand, you were both slowly getting out of the other drivers’ sight while Lando patted Alex and Carlos on the back.

“You ain’t her first victims today, don’t worry.” Despite wanting to reassure his friends, Lando’s words wouldn’t change anything. “It’s a universal experience that we all have to go through.”

“Didn’t even give us one chance”, Alex sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“We should just run Max off track”, Carlos suggested.

“I wouldn’t go as far as that, but you could still try. I’m sure she’d love to date whoever sends her boyfriend to the hospital,” Lando sarcastically said.

“Yeah… don’t wanna risk putting our chances to zero”, Alex warned.

“Kinda think they’re already below zero, though…” Carlos sighed.

At least, they weren’t delusional. That’s what you always appreciated about the grid: their flirting was fun and innocent. At the end of the day, they truly did wish they could be in Max’s place. But Max was still a friend – to most of the drivers – and they knew that you loved him too much to even dare think about dating any other driver than him.

So for now: it was six down – seven with George, and two days left to reject the rest of the grid.

…..

As you had expected, Lewis eventually came up to you on Saturday. FP3 has just ended, and you’d had the unfortunate idea of walking around the paddock to stretch your legs. So when you passed by Ferrari, you knew exactly whose footsteps were quickly approaching you before you heard their owner’s voice.

“Hi, lovely to see you.”

“Hello to you too, Lewis. Ferrari’s treating you well?” You asked him.

“Could be better, but I won’t complain with the car being in the top three of every practice session this weekend.”

“Good for you.”

“By the way, a little birdie told me that you were interested in drivers with multiple world championships.” His voice was filled with a teasing tone as he innocently brought up what you knew Charles had let slip yesterday. “Any of that true?”

“Perhaps…” Nothing would come out of it, but it was still amusing to you to finally be able to entertain Mercedes’s former star. “I have someone on my radar, you might know him.”

“Really? Care to describe him to me?”

Like the other drivers, Lewis knew deep down that you weren’t giving him a real chance. But still, he could dream about it and have hopes for a couple minutes.

“He’s extremely handsome, very loyal…” You pictured Max in your mind, and tried to stay vague so that the compliments could also apply to Lewis. “Broke tons of records, has several world championships as we said… hmm, what else?” You pretended to think, until it was time to shatter Lewis’s half delusion. “He won Abu Dhabi in 2021, is currently in Red Bull, has the cutest cats ever… should I keep going?”

“Abu Dhabi is a low blow, you know that?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You weren’t entirely sorry. But as you both chuckled about it, you knew that Lewis wouldn’t hold it against you. “Unless you’d like to hang out with my dream man, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Sure”, Lewis agreed with a shrug. “But don’t forget me if you ever need a seven-times world champion.”

“You’ll be on speed dial, don’t worry about it. Good luck for qualifying, Lewis.” You waved at him after parting ways, giving him a bright smile.

“Still can’t believe why she chose him, but who am I to judge…” Lewis mumbled to himself before walking back to Ferrari.

…..

After qualifying – Max had gotten pole, you were making a mental list of who were the drivers that you hadn’t seen yet.

You had talked to Lando, Charles, Pierre, Yuki, and both Williams drivers yesterday. George was out of the equation as well; and Lewis had been cleared earlier. Fernando and Nico were both ruled out from the beginning, which probably left Esteban and Lance. Max had told you that Oscar would probably be too shy or too lazy – or both – to come talk to you, so he was also crossed off the list.

But it wasn’t Esteban nor Lance that you saw while waiting for Max to come back from the media pen. No. While you were peacefully sipping on your drink in front of Red Bull, you were suddenly shadowed from the sun by way more than two people.

Six drivers, now standing in front of you with bright smiles. Six drivers you hadn’t even considered, and would quickly be dismissing after a quick chat.

“Hi,” you simply said while putting your sunglasses on top of your head.

“Hi,” they all replied.

Some of them shyly waved, and you couldn’t help thinking that they were adorable. For a couple minutes, they just stood there while a smile made its way onto your face. They were all visibly nervous to talk to you, and you imagined that they felt braver coming as a group.

“We’re just big fans,” Liam eventually explained. “Thought we could still try and shoot our shot like everyone else.”

The other rookies all nodded, to emphasise Liam’s words.

“I’m really flattered”, you genuinely told them as you straightened your back.

“There’s a but coming, though. Is there?” Ollie sarcastically predicted.

“Yep”, you confirmed. “I’m really flattered, but…” And one by one, you pointed to them with a reason as to why they didn’t have much chance with you - in addition to them also being too young for you. “Charles’s spawn, Alpine, Sauber, French, former second Red Bull seat, and Toto’s offspring.”

“Wow, okay…” Jack eventually said. “Fair enough, honestly.”

“Thank God we have some ego left”, Isack added with a chuckle.

“But hypothetically, would those be actual valid reasons if Max wasn’t in the picture?” Ollie wondered as he leaned down with his hands on the table.

“I don’t do hypotheticals, sorry.” You started gathering your belongings, and stood up to signify to the rookies that you would be leaving them soon. “But that was a nice try, Oliver.”

The fact that you knew his name shouldn’t have surprised him, but the way you had said it so softly was enough for a blush to make its way onto the Brit’s cheeks.

“Have a nice race, okay? Maybe if you all make this one interesting, I’ll come back more often.” And with that, you grabbed your drink then sent a wink to the rookies before you were about to leave.

“But you know,” Kimi called for your attention as your back was about to face him, “they do say I’m the future Max Verstappen. That must still count for something, right?”

“Kimi, sweetheart.” You walked up to him and ruffled his hair, with a soft smile. “Emphasis on the future. I’m in love with current Max, sorry. But I’ll call you if there’s a future me entering the film industry one day!” After those last words, you definitely left the drivers and went back inside Red Bull to go look for Max.

Kimi couldn’t even be mad at you. If anything, that was more interaction than he had wished to get with you and he knew that he had won the unsaid competition against the other rookies.

…..

But honestly, none of the drivers had ever been competition to Max. You both knew that, even though the rest of the grid had liked to run a bit on delusion and false hopes during the weekend.

Hopes that you had completely crushed when Max won the race on Sunday, as you were the first person he ran up to after getting out of his car. Pictures of you kissing had been taken from every angle, and later posted everywhere for the whole world to see during the following days.

The whole world that also witnessed Max Verstappen being the one to leave the track hand in hand with you, bright and cheerful smiles adorning both your faces.

Maybe people were slowly understanding why you were with him, as it was easy to witness the love between Max and you whenever you were together in public. But there would always be this part of the world that would keep wondering why the two of you were together, although you simply didn’t care about it.

Max Verstappen might be the lucky one according to the general audience, but if someone were to ask you: you were the lucky one and he was out of your league.

..........

Still can't believe i wrote my 1st request omgg

This was honestly a challenge to write bc i didn't wanna be too repetitive like ik this might have slayed as a smau but I'd rather do narrative and descriptive shit so i don't think I'll ever do smaus - also big flemme mdr

But yeah i hope y'all liked this - esp the anon who requested it - so don't hesitate to like, reblog, or comment your thoughts🤍

See you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

[salmonlyster]

im feeling really normally about the 4k remaster and the release of gerards character name so here r my im not okay headcanons :ppp ive drawn frank and ray maybe once ever

more thoughts under the cut vv

okay i might make these fuckerrs into a little comic because theyre eating in my brain like a little worm.... similarly to the im not okay mv the primary inspiration is rushmore but id also want to draw from like heathers and blue monday and eltingville etc

here are some screenshots w notes on them and dynamics etc

illi: glue of the group, introduces them all to each other. for the sake of this, illi and louise are not related. name is from the 4k rendition of the mv. incredibly ambitious and always creates the main idea for the schemes that the group gets up to. kind of only nonbinary due to the fact that illi is an incredibly interesting name, and a very open opportunity for me to make revenge gerard even more nonbinary. their uniform is neat and tidy, not particularly out of respect for the school, but more out of awareness of their own appearance. into fashion but doesn't really know how to deal with their hair. just lets it grow out and fucks with it in the moment. croquet mallet is blue, so draws a lot of inspiration from veronica sawyer. they/she pronouns? maybe? but i lean towards they/them.

frances: placeholder name i guess? it's important for him to have the initials "FTW" to play on both ft willis/fuck the world but i think percy also works since it's a bit of a play on pencey prep. incredibly strained relationship with louise- very different personalities is a source of conflict between them. frances has the messiest uniform because he's the least put together, and has the most carefree attitude about things. hes really into being a problem but hes an unnaturally bright student when he actually gets into doing the work - taking a page from max fischers book here lmao. chipped nail polish. wears barrettes sometimes. very clever.

louise: i've always been enamored by that interview where gerard says that the band used "louise" as a nickname for mikey so i've associated it specifically with his glasses era. no last name for now but i think it has to have the same ou sound. primary inspiration for his character is max from rushmore. used to wear his hair slicked down until illi staged an intervention and forced him and frances to hang out one-on-one and style hair. neat uniform, but doesn't fit him properly for whatever reason. hand me down? transgenderism? he's just too tall? idk! connected with adults more than peers growing up and as a result is very under-socialized. involved with student leadership at the school.

ray: ughhhhh WHYYY did he have to write ray rules on the paper it would have been so fun to make a completely new name. okay anyways i just like graham and i think it suits whatever i have built for him. undiagnosed adhd and if anything a bit of a halfway point between illi and the rest of the group. illi is really intense and cannot be stopped sometimes so graham is kind of the "babygirl i was made to understand you vision" person. yeah im getting this from the hand on shoulder and sitting closer in that one scene but be nice to me im working with like. two minutes of footage as a launching point. uniform isn't buttoned, not because of carelessness, but forgetfulness. he's a little bit inconsistent about everything he does.

the school in general: rushmore style private school, kind of dying in recent years so funding and management is all over the place. mascot used to be the dogs or something but there were copyright issues with the logo and now they are the bears.

i thiiiink thats all i have for now?? im going to draw them more just you guys wait lmfao. ive always loved im not okay more than any other mv by a large margin so all things considered this is me being normal.

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: jack says some things he doesn’t mean after meeting your neighbor. the two of you somehow manage to quickly make up, though

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, jack is divorced, not a widower, slight angst, they argue (LIGHT term LOL), jack insecure and says some things he doesn’t mean out of jealousy, (probably poorly written) smut, unprotected sex (she’s already pregnant so 🤷🏻‍♀️), creampie, i think that’s all??? minors DNI.

notes: ahhh okay finally!!!! ugh sorry this took so long! there will be a slight timeskip between this part and the next part. i think i have this drafted where there will be 15 parts in the main story, as of this moment, with lots of side drabbles and future drabbles/one shots!! i am SO excited! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 1.4k

prev next

The last thing Jack expects when he gets to your apartment is to find some guy standing in your doorway talking to you.

You’ve got a smile on your face that makes Jack almost stop in his tracks, an uneasy feeling creeping in his stomach.

He must catch your eye, because you look in his direction, and the smile on your face widens.

“Hey!”

He gives you a half smile before glancing back at your friend, who looks at him with furrowed brows.

“Oh! This is my neighbor's son. Jack, this is Dan. Dan this is Jack, my,” You pause briefly, “friend?”

It comes out a question, and he doesn’t have the right to get upset and he knows that, but it stings.

Dan glances at Jack, “Hey, man. She mentioned she was expecting company, so I was just leaving,”

Jack looks at you as Dan turns back to you, “If your computer keeps giving you a hard time, just shoot me a text or give me a call,”

Dan leaves with a wave, and Jack has no right to, but he feels out of place in the doorway of your apartment for the first time.

You don’t notice how quiet he’s being as he follows you into your apartment, talking animatedly as you tell him about your day.

He stops in the entryway to the kitchen, still silent as you put your oven mitts on to take whatever you have baking in the oven out.

“But anyway,” You sigh, setting the pie you made on the counter, “How was your day?”

You look at him, slightly taken aback by the look on his face.

“Jack, are you okay?”

Brown eyes finally meet yours, “Who was that guy?”

You frown, “Dan? He’s my neighbor’s son, like I said. They helped me get the desk up here, and he offered to just help me get it put together since he didn’t have anything to do this afternoon. I took him up on his offer, since I figured you would be really tired after a long day,”

He looks at you, half amazed you would even consider that, but half annoyed that you assume he’d be too tired to help you.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was going to be any sort of issue,”

A pout forms on your lips, “Well, I know that, but I just,” You sigh, picking at your fingernails, “I hated the thought of you working all day and then coming here and dealing with all that mess,” You gesture with your hands towards your office

He sighs, feeling like an asshole, “I’m sorry. I had a hard day and…” He trails off, not sure what exactly to say.

You smile softly, “No worries,”

He gives you a half smile, “Do you know your neighbor well?”

You bite your lip in thought, “Well, I’ve known Carl since I moved in. But I didn’t meet Dan until almost a year ago,” You laugh to yourself, “He used to work in Philadelphia, but moved back here to take care of his dad. Carl actually did try to set us up once,”

Jack tenses up again, “He did?”

You nod, moving to plate the pasta you made, “Yeah, right after my ex and I broke up actually,” You frown at the thought for a brief moment, then shake the thought away, “but I wasn’t ready to date. And Dan isn’t really my type anyway,”

The statement makes Jack feel slightly better, but his mouth moves quicker than his head before he can stop himself, “So, just a dad that tried to set you guys up? Nothing else?”

You frown at his tone, at what he’s implying, gently setting the plate of pasta down and turning your whole body towards him, “Yes? What would make you think there was more to it than that?”

He looks away from you, “Don’t know. Jus’ felt like I should ask,”

All of a sudden you’re angry, “We’ve already had this conversation. And I already told you. You were the first guy I slept with in almost a year,”

He knows he shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t let this blow up, “Well, I don’t know. You could’ve lied for all I know,”

The anger leaves your eyes as quickly as it appeared, hurt being the only thing remaining.

“I think you should leave,” You try to keep your voice firm. Steady. But all that comes out is a whisper.

He instantly regrets it, but to avoid upsetting you further, he leaves. He stops at the front door, mind screaming at him to turn around.

He closes the door quietly behind him.

Two hours later, you’ve finally finished cleaning your apartment. Between the mess with the desk, piled up laundry, and the dinner you didn’t even eat, the place needed a good clean.

Just as you're about to go to bed, there’s a knock at the door.

Sighing, you answer it without checking, shocked to find Jack there, hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” His eyes don’t leave yours, “I don’t know what came over me earlier. I-“

He sighs, cutting himself off, “I don’t have any right, or claim on you, to act like that. I know this situation isn’t ideal for either of us but,” He shoves his hands in his pockets, “I think we have this connection, outside of the obvious,” head tilting towards your stomach, “But we don’t know each other, and I, fuck I don’t know,”

You’re softer and kinder than he deserves, “You got jealous?”

He huffs out a laugh, “I’m too old for that shit,”

You open the door wider, allowing him to come in, “You don’t deny it, though,”

He sighs as the two of you make your way to the couch, “The thought of you being pregnant but us never meeting again has been really eating at me. The idea of you, somewhere out there, pregnant with my baby, raising my baby, alone or with some other guy,” A pitiful chuckle leaves his mouth, “it makes me sick to my fucking stomach.”

You hum, fingers moving to his curls, scratching at his scalp. He closes his eyes at the sensation.

“You never said anything,”

He opens one eye and huffs out a laugh, “We’ve just started getting to know each other. This is a delicate situation. Plus,” He sighs, hand grabbing your wrist, “I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than you might already be.”

Now it’s your turn to huff out a laugh, “If I was uncomfortable with any of this, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

He looks at you with both eyes open now, “Yeah?”

You just nod, causing him to let out a sigh of relief.

The two of you just sit there, looking at each other, for a few minutes.

Jack isn’t sure who moves first, but the next thing he knows, your mouth is on his with your hands in his hair. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other finds purchase on your hip, pulling you closer to him.

He groans into your mouth when you tug at his hair. His tongue licks the seam of your lips, begging for you to open them.

You comply, and he moans at the taste of cherries as your tongue tries to fight his for dominance of this moment.

He pulls you into his lap as you begin to tug at his shirt, begging him oh so sweetly to please take it off.

Who is he to deny you.

Clothes are removed quickly. Next thing you know, his pants are pulled down just enough to free his cock, and you’re down to just your bra.

You don’t even give him the chance to feel how wet you are, how badly you want him, before you sink down on him.

You both gasp into the kiss at the feeling of your cunt gripping his cock tightly.

Your hands fist his hair as his gently hold your waist, helping guide you up and down, hips thrusting up to meet you in the middle.

It would be embarrassing, how quickly you manage to make him cum, if you didn’t cum at the same time, a whiney whimper of his name leaving your lips as his fingernails dig almost too tightly into your hips as his seed paints your walls white.

There’s a lot, an obscene amount of him inside of you. He can feel it sliding out of you and dripping down his balls and onto your couch as you lay slumped against his chest.

Jack runs his hand up and down your spine, trying to catch his breath.

After a few minutes, you finally sit up straight, his cock still inside you.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?”

He huffs out a laugh before nodding, grabbing your jaw and bringing your mouth back to his, fighting off a groan as you grind your hips against his when you start to deepen the kiss.

[corawithfanfiction]

Hi! Would you ever consider do anything that was Aaron Taylor Johnson x reader? (his celeb self I mean.) Maybe something like they’re working on a movie together (y/n is younger) and get to be friends and then something transpires between them? Ahh!!

Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Fem!Reader (Young Actress Reader - Request)

MY MASTERLIST! - EVENTS! - HOME!

This is an original story and may not be copied or translated into another language without permission!

warning: claustrophobia, age difference, dirty language, nickname, divorce, coworker, action scene, car accident, creep, expectation.

summary: You're doing test shoots for action scenes with the lead of your new movie. You always thought you were like a sister to her until you find out that he is now a single man.

(2632 word)

Hope you like it sweetie, I try the write as soon as possible :) @smallmarvel

It was one of the new weeks in your new project. The reading rehearsals had been over for a few days. But post-production had taken a long time. Or maybe it's because it's your biggest project and you've never experienced this kind of crew and work discipline before.

The cast had been in camp for months and all of them had been working out constantly to change their bodies for their roles. In the last days you have been working on your choreography. Your screen time would be about fifteen to twenty minutes, but the opportunity to work with such a cast made it all worthwhile.

You had two fight scenes, one big and one small. Although it wouldn't be right to call them both fights. Generally the bad guys were chasing you and our hero was there for you, but there were still moves you had to memorize.

When you first read the script, you thought that since it was an escape scene, it wouldn't challenge you and you would just run. But it wasn't like that. You had to jump, jump, sometimes crawl and even fight one-on-one. To make the scene more realistic, you were choreographed to fight for your life. At first you hated it, but once you learned the moves and started doing them much faster, you started to enjoy it.

Today was the day of the test shoot.

It was the first time you and the rest of the crew would act out the scenes together. Of course you had all met each other. You had rehearsed readings, the director had organized some nights for you all to get along better. One of them was a movie night where you watched some of the old crappy horror movies. It was a milestone day when you couldn't be afraid to laugh and you started to feel comfortable around each other as a team. Another night was a silent movie night. It was through events like these that you formed good friendships.

Aside from being friends with the crew and spending time together, today was the first day you were going to be in front of the camera. And it was for the fight scene. You were the last name in the cast and you were the least famous of them all. In direct proportion to that, you were not the main female character of the movie, but all your scenes were with the hero of the movie, the leading male character. Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who is going to save you from the bad guys in today's the test shoot.

Aaron was a very funny and kind man. He would come to your workouts to make you feel comfortable, give you feedback and often praise you on how well you were doing. In addition to these interactions, he was usually quiet on set. He would share a laugh with certain people, but he was very kind to the whole set and the staff. A true English gentleman.

When you arrived on set, you put on something comfortable. Leggings, a sports bra that covers your breasts and makes the whole action scene easier for you, and a loose t-shirt with the logo of your favorite band. Since it was a test shoot, you were wearing air force sneakers. You were determined to at least make this test as comfortable as possible until the main shoot.

Aaron came into the field right behind you. He was similarly dressed in comfortable clothes. He arrived in gray sweatpants and a basic t-shirt. They rocked back and forth with their hands in their pockets, talking to the director about the scene. You'd have to be blind not to notice the movement of his muscles with each sway…You reminded yourself that you were a married man and tried to focus on your scene.

After he finished talking to the director, he came up to you and said, “Good morning, baby.” He pulled you into a hug. You knew he gave you that nickname because of the age difference. You reminded yourself that there was nothing to be excited about and accepted his hug.

When he pulled back, with an energetic smile on his face, he asked, “Are you ready for today?” His smile must have been contagious because you were smiling back. “As much as I can,” you replied, shaking your legs - in a pose as if you were about to run a marathon.

His grin was still on his face. “We'll try not to push you too hard today, but we still want to go through all the scenes. But if there's any scene or movement that makes you uncomfortable, we'll definitely stop shooting,” he explained with great care. You had to admit that you were very lucky to be working with someone so kind and understanding. “Thanks Aaron, I really appreciate it, but I don't think we'll have any problems, we've been rehearsing these moves for weeks.” You reassured him. “Honey, the shot might feel different though, remember to stop if you have trouble.” He insisted. “I promise I will stop the scene if it feels uncomfortable,” you reassured him. All the while trying not to get hung up on the new nickname...

The first test shoot went quite well. The more complicated scene was next, but you decided to do it tomorrow. Or rather your director decided so. This decision was made because he wanted to shoot tomorrow with full make-up and clothes. Because it is necessary to decide whether the costumes in the movie will cause any problems in the scene and choreography and what precautions should be taken if necessary. So tomorrow you will enter the set as if you are shooting the first scene of the movie. Lights, camera, makeup, hair, costume… Everything you can think of will be prepared. To be honest, you're very excited about it.

But this was tomorrow's subject, today's subject and a new movie night. The leading lady of your movie had invited everyone who was doing a test shoot today to a movie night at her house because her house was quite close to the set.

You decided to change at the set before going back to the hotel and go with Aaron. Because he had arrived by car and you didn't want to waste time looking for a taxi.

The ride was peacefully silent until the sound of Aaron's cell phone connected to the car filled the air. “Excuse me, this is important. If you don't mind-” As soon as I saw the word lawyer appear on the screen, I said, ”No, no, please. I don't mind at all.”

When he picked up the phone, the loud, booming voice of the lawyer on the other end filled the car. “Hey, buddy, how you doing?” Aaron's fingers were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. His grip on the steering wheel was tighter than it had been since he'd called the lawyer. “Please give me some good news Kev,” his lawyer, Kev - you probably think it was Kevin - noticed Aaron's nervousness and started to chuckle. “Relax man, you're a single man now. Sam accepted the deal and signed all the papers. Congratulations man, enjoy your new life.” Aaron let out a deep breath at the sound of the phone hanging up. “I'm sorry this is really-” before you could finish the sentence Aaron's laughter filled the car and you heard him say something like 'oh shit' but you didn't dwell on it. His happiness was contagious and the awkward silence in the car was gone.

You couldn't say the same about movie night, though. They had chosen a really terrible movie this time and you were constantly screaming and disturbing the whole crew. One or two people who were really enjoying the movie were a bit annoyed by this, but the crew was having a lot of fun with your reactions.

When the lead role was finally placed alive in the coffin, you felt your breath catch in your throat. “I think I-” the incoherent words came out so quietly that no one even realized you were about to have an attack of claustrophobia. As soon as you started to fidget on the couch, an arm grabbed you around the waist and pulled you towards him. You couldn't see who it was in the dark room. With one hand still on your waist, he grabbed your neck with his free hand and held you against his chest. You immediately inhaled the familiar scent. You relaxed yourself in the safety of the warmth. “Shh, calm down doll, I'm here.” His low voice and the sound of him moving around your waist were enough to calm your nerves. But his lips barely touching your ear sent a shiver down your spine. You were about to remind yourself that this was wrong when you remembered that he was now a single man.

When you arrived on set, you went straight to your trailer for makeup. While you were lost in the memories of yesterday, your makeup was finished and your hair was being done.

Shortly after the movie ended, you and Aaron said goodbye to your friends and left. You were staying in the same hotel, so you went on the car ride together again. He made fun of you a little during the ride and finally you agreed to watch a comedy movie together. When you arrived at the hotel, he insisted on escorting you to your room even though your rooms were not on the same floor.

After opening the door to your room, you wished each other good night. Before you parted, you shared another hug. It was the longest hug you had ever shared. Sure, it was a minute hug, but it usually lasted no more than a few seconds and no, every time you hugged Aaron you didn't calculate how long it lasted. “Good night, baby,” he whispered in your ear as his hand circled your back. Then he left after leaving a vague kiss on your burn.

While your hair was being done, you were drowning in memories. You told yourself you were exaggerating, after all, he always called you baby. You were like his little brother, that's what you had been telling yourself for weeks, except you didn't know then that he was about to get divorced and that he was now a single man. Yes, there was an age difference, but it wasn't twenty years. You were just a couple years younger.

You came out of your daydream with Aaron's voice. “Hello baby,” he winked at your image in the mirror. ‘Good morning Aaron,’ you smiled. When you were called from inside to put on your costumes, you waved “See you in a minute” and headed towards the cabin. After changing your clothes, you took one last look at your image in the mirror and went to the set area. It wasn't a superhero movie so there were no weird tights and uncomfortable costumes. It was a chase scene where you would be chased by the 'bad guys' after you left work and then it would take place on the streets of the city. He was wearing tight fabric pants, a white shirt and stilettos. When the scene first started you would run in heels. Then you could switch to sneakers because they would not be visible in the camera angles. But neither the shoes nor the shirt made you unhappy. The only thing that bothered you was the lacy bra. You were looking for the comfort of your sports bra from the day before.

On the director's orders, you started the test shoot. You came out of your model building, realized you were being followed while walking down the street and jumped into the first taxi you saw. The team chasing you rear-ends your taxi with the car they are driving and you get stuck in the vehicle. At this moment, Aaron arrives and performs the fight scene with the men chasing you. After he rescues you from your trapped position, you take him by the hand and run together. At this point you were planning to change your shoes but you didn't want to stop shooting and you wondered how long you could go on.

After all, it was a test shoot. If you failed, you wouldn't try something like this next time. As you ran hand in hand, your heel caught on some fake stones. As Aaron checked you were okay, you gave him a sign that you could continue. As you continued your scene, you realized that the shoe was hurting you now. And the more you stepped, the more it hurt. But you were still shooting and you didn't want to give up on the first try.

You squeezed the hand that Aaron was holding. Immediately he turned to you and a low whimper of “Aaron,” escaped your lips. He immediately checked you with his eyes and tried to figure out what was wrong. “I don't think I can go on in these heels much longer,” As he was about to signal the director to stop the scene, he shook his hand once more and said, “Please don't stop the scene, we are almost finished. I don't want it to be cut because of me.” As you were quickly looking for a solution, the camera was coming towards you from the backstage area.

As you wondered what to do, you felt yourself being swept off your feet. As you let out a little scream of surprise, you could tell that your director was enjoying the moment and was pleased with the image that was being captured on camera. Aaron embraced you bridal style. And he was running towards the area where your final scene would take place. “What are you doing!” you whispered after your astonishment had subsided a little. “I couldn't let you writhe in pain Y/N,” she said, giving you an angry look. “Oh, I thought you would enjoy watching me writhe in pain…” you snapped.

When you got to where you needed to be, he took you off his lap and you did the moves you had memorized for your scene. With the fake explosion planned on the set, you ducked down and crawled together to where you were supposed to hide. The camera went back to filming the extras fighting. You had time to lie down for a few minutes.

You tried to forget the pain in your feet as you lay on your back where you were crawling. You were a little stressed by the narrow space you were in, but your breathing was regular.

As the shouting and explosions continued in the background, Aaron crawled to where you were. Since you had decided to lie on your back, he was now standing over you, leaning on his elbows. He never took his eyes off your eyes for a moment. “I enjoy you squirming Y/N” he said, and you realized that he had returned to the previous conversation. “But I'll make sure it won't be in pain.” Your breath began to betray you as his gaze slid to your lips. He leaned in even more, closing the distance between you a little more. “But I will also show you that we are away from the cameras,” his words sent a shiver down your spine and a warmth to your core.

He immediately noticed when you involuntarily squeezed your legs together. He leaned down until his lips touched your earlobe before leaving his spot for his scene. “I knew you were made for me, baby.” He said. And he left his location to continue shooting. Leaving you there to daydream with all your wetness and anticipation.

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[ask-the-rag-dolly]

ragatha is NOT abstracting* and i will bury myself six foot under that hill

* well , i don't think she'll FULLY abstract . _____

i know this may be shocking coming from Me , the ragatha angst enjoyer , who made an entire au where she's having a bad day 24/7 . i truly , do not believe that ragatha's going to get killed off . just . hear me out . sit down on this chair .

it's not even that she's my favorite character and i don't want her to die . the opposite , actually , i eat ragatha abstraction fanfics up . my problems are more ... well , it lies more on the writing .

first of all , let's remember what tadc is for a second ; it's a tonally hopeful show with messages about community and not being truly alone . even in episode 5 , where ragatha Goes Through It , it has a glimmer of hope through jax — where he finds a friend in pomni .

it's why i truly believe she'll have some form of positive development , because if Jax , the character that gooseworx said who's Most deserved to be stuck in the circus , can be happy ... then why couldn't ragatha ?

also . i Love assholes with repressed trauma as much as the next guy , but it'll be weird to make the guy who's been antagonistic to most of the cast thus far find more happiness than ..... the clearly-traumatized woman ...........

when you write a story with mentally ill characters and a hopeful message ... what does it say when you kill off one of them ? what does it say to the audience that relates to that character ? here's a hint — stuff that i would find IFFY to put in your show .

obviously , you can do literally anything as a writer , but picture this ; imagine setting up a character like ragatha . someone who has gone through abuse and a lot of trauma . desperate for a community to the point she grasps for any scraps of validation she gets . you put her in a show where every character find some form of hope in the situation they're in . she has shown herself to harbor some form of self-loathing .

by that point , you should see my problem with killing her off . once more : if she dies , what does it say to the audience who relates to that character ?

and now for my next question — what would it add to the show ? what message does it send and how does it add to the theme ? because ... any of the answers to those questions i can think of are NOT good answers considering the last paragraphs .

" it'll show that people truly cares even when you're gone " we'll have episode 2 again , but this time at the cost of a character we've gotten to know for the last five episodes . it'll make ragatha's time in the show a Total Waste . like cool , all she's been set up for the last five episodes is to Die ...

i sure do hope we don't have another dead character who tells the same message of people caring about you when you're gone and also had an entire funeral scene which will make all of this build-up so redundant — oh wait his name is kaufmo .

at that point you could just remove her and put kaufmo in her place , because it's just the Same Message being told . it'll be impactful to see a main character dying ... if that character isn't going to essentially make all of their scenes redundant in hindsight .

" it'll give the cast character development " but not ragatha ?? i will be real with you i will be so Mad if ragatha gets killed off as a catalyst for jax to have an epiphany or character development . like genuinely that would make me instantly drop the show , do Not get me started .

even then , the thing that's going on with ragatha thus far is her thinking nobody cares for her despite that it's the Opposite . by giving the other characters development instead of her in Her Own Arc is Terrible Writing and i'm not going to budge on that .

" it'll mark a tonal shift " an answer i'm slightly okay with , but let's take the above paragraphs again — it'll be iffy nonetheless . do i Love the idea of an unsatisfying character arc where it suddenly ends , therefore breaking the formula that's been set since the beginning ? yes ! would i love it in this specific case considering the context of the show and its themes ? very much Not !

i know these arguments are more of an opinionated , ' think of how that'll work into the story ' rather than actual proof , but when it comes to making predictions , the tadc fandom doesn't really stop and think about how it adds to a character or story beyond It'll Be Shocking . for this theory specifically , i can't see a Good narrative reason to kill off ragatha without stepping on at least one land mine . as someone familiar with writing stories with mentally ill characters — it'll get Weird quick !

do i accept that there could be a Tiny possibility that ragatha Does abstract ? absolutely . i do trust gooseworx's ability as a writer enough to Maybe make this sting less when it actually does happen , but i'll very much criticize it .

so ! i don't think she Wouldn't abstract 100% though . because by this point it's inevitable that she'll sink into the darkness in some way . keep in mind that Barely Anything goes right for this girl . i don't think she'll die , but a very public mental breakdown is inevitable . at most , i see a fake-out abstraction . you know . one where she gets pulled out of it at the last second . just to scare the fans .

personally , do you know what would be more impactful than a death ? a character that fully believes she'll die alone and unloved being proven Wrong . episode 5 has shown how the other characters Care for her . imagine her spiraling and thinking that nobody cares if she abstracts , only to realize that there are people by her side . shit that would actually make me cry , i'm not gonna lie .

she will get a BIG group hug and she'll cry and i would also cry and we crew and we crode and i don't know maybe i'll be wrong Shrugs let's see this post age like milk LOL

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration 'Choose your own adventure' story

Dragon x fem!reader— hate fucking, rough sex, marking, fire breath play, restraints (tail)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

You stomp out of Minotaur Boss’ office in a blind rage. Your vision blurring with either anger or arousal, you’re not exactly sure. The sound of the door slamming open doesn’t attract any attention, your coworkers far too busy fucking to watch how hot you look when mad. But you can’t help but watch them, eyes drawn to the carefree way they drown in their pleasure. Caring more for satisfying themselves than continuing to work their job.

It was simply astonishing. They all hold a freedom you’ve never known. Not until yesterday when you got here, that is. The longer you stare the hotter your body grows, your pussy gushing with arousal. You feel your world spin, trying to accommodate to your new reality as you would have to accommodate a massive cock. Your thoughts quickly stray away from your mission, the arousal overtaking the anger brewing within you.

For a moment you seriously consider joining one of them. If this is your new life, who’s to say you shouldn’t take advantage of it? You bite your lip, slowing your pace as you walk past a pair of Cat Hybrids who look like they’re in heat.

No—

You can’t risk getting too distracted right now. You had to go confront your Dragon Headhunter and maybe, just maybe, you can blow some of this steam off on him. In whatever form that may take. With a deep inhale you try and clear some of the lust clouding your mind. You turn back toward the conference room, intent on going in, when you immediately bump into a man devouring someone like it’s his last meal.

A small yelp leaves you as you go flying back, not wanting to interrupt, but you quickly lose your footing and once again go tumbling to the ground. You briefly wonder if that sexy Secretary Bunny will catch you again. No! Focus! But then a pair of hands are on you and your heart, and your pussy, flutters.

The stranger’s hands quickly switch you around, causing you to plop firmly in his lap as you straddle him. A moan freely slips past your lips as you already feel his fully hard cock beneath you. As your head snaps up to look at your new rescuer your jaw drops, your eyes sweeping over his infuriatingly and impossibly perfect features.

But unlike everyone else you’ve met in this city… he appears perfectly human. That is until his eyes flicker, his pupils forming a small flame to reflect his burning desire. He wasn’t a human, he was a robot. No wonder he’s the most perfect specimen you’ve ever seen. You glance down, eyes trailing his form when you notice his IT badge. How ironic.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the main event falling right into my lap,” he purrs, voice smooth as silk as he leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw.

A small whine leaves you, his skin impossibly smooth against yours. Your eyes flutter and you hate how easily you melt against him. An IT Robot shouldn’t be so damn comfortable. You find yourself baring your neck to him, seeking more of his touch. His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin and you shiver, unintentionally grinding against him. Or was it on purpose? Fuck, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Technically you got me into your lap,” you sigh with bliss, your brain only growing fuzzier the longer you stay in his embrace.

It was like he knew exactly where and how to touch you. You were sure it was just from some strange programming he’s downloaded but who were you to question it? The IT Robot’s touch slips beneath your shirt and his large hands caress your curves reverently.

“And what else can I get you to do with me?” IT Robot’s voice rasps and curls into your ear as if putting you under a spell. A spell called his cock. He rolls his hips as he speaks, pressing his hard length roughly against your clothed clit.

“Nngh… N-nothing! I have to go, but damn I wish I didn’t,” you say through gritted teeth.

You force yourself out of his lap, your body vibrating and your cunt pulsing with need. You push the office chair he was sitting in away from you and he laughs. The chair stops as it bumps into another person but his eyes don’t stray from you.

“You’re always welcome, doll.”

It takes all the strength left in your tired and yet still somehow horny body to turn away from the sexy IT Robot but you do. You keep your eyes firmly trained on Conference room D, determined to see this through. Your Dragon Headhunter is the only one right now who deserves the impact of all your pent up emotions.

As you near the door, you stop short, surprised when it opens. For a second you wait with bated breath, wondering if maybe the Dragon Headhunter is looking for you too. You don’t even question the way your pussy floods with arousal. But your stomach drops as a Fae walks out of the conference room and sneaks off, not even seeing you staring after them.

Your fury returns tenfold to the point where you can’t even think straight. You rush for the door, barging in and smashing it closed behind you. The Dragon Headhunter jumps from the noise, lazily glancing over his shoulder at you. Your eyes automatically widen, a gasp leaving you as you finally see him in person. You’d video called dozens of times yet it all paled in comparison to seeing him face-to-face.

He was broad and painstakingly attractive. His scales glimmer in the sunlight that streaks in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. His suit fits tight against his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination of what lies beneath. The fabric clinging to his thick ass and strong thighs. A slow smirk forms on his lips. The sight has you shuddering where you stand and it only serves to make you more angry.

“Well, if it isn’t my newest treasure…”

Your eyes flash, focus returning back to his face. Just in time too to see the smug look painted across his face. You’re in front of him in an instant only to push him back. The creature barely even moves. He sways, although you know he only did it for your benefit.

“Where have you been? You have no idea what’s happened today?” you ask lowly, hands shaking from your anger. Sure, the dicks been great, but this wasn’t how you expected your new life to start.

It’s Dragon Headhunter’s turn to look you up and down, noting your disheveled appearance and lustful expression. It has his smirk growing somehow wider across his face. He crosses his arms, admiring what he’s done to you, what this city has turned you into.

“I believe I have an idea.”

The air grows thick between you and the Dragon Headhunter. You can barely breathe, only managing short shaky breaths as you stare each other down. Your skin burns under his gaze but you refuse to squirm and let him win.

“Of course you do. ‘Cause you fucking tricked me into coming here. Why?” You ask firmly, finally demanding answers from him. You won’t be leaving here without them. And you’ll do anything to get them.

You slowly walk up to him, trying your best to intimidate a beast such as him. But all you do is make yourself feel smaller as he towers over you. The height different has your pussy clenching around nothing. His nostrils immediately flare and you know he can smell how turned on you are. You cry out and push him back again with all your strength.

“Why?!” You demand with a ragged shout.

Without a single word, Dragon Headhunter swoops down and claims your lips in a searing kiss to shut you up. A low moan rumbles through your throat and the Dragon responds with one of his own. One that has you turning to mush in his arms. Your mouths clash together as they fight for dominance. The Dragon’s claws sink into the flesh of your wide hips and he whirls you around, pressing your ass into the conference room table.

Dragon Headhunter ravages you, his tongue swirling through your mouth as if trying to taste every last bit of you. He pushes against you harder and harder until he growls and lifts your plush frame up like it’s nothing and drops you easily on top of the table. You grunt and throw his arms off of you, forcing him to kiss at your pace. His claws sink into the wood and screech loudly as he drags them down, trying to resist grabbing at you again. But as you suck his tongue into your mouth he can’t take it any longer.

He pushes you all the way down on the table with as much as a small shove. You cry out as you go flying back, glaring at him. Dragon Headhunter starts furiously trying to shred off your clothes. You grunt and wrestle against him to get your clothes off without ruining them. He doesn’t bother, shredding his own clothes with a few swipes of his claws. You two glare at each other even as lust fills your gazes. He jerks your legs open to reveal your glistening folds and smoke leaves his snout with his huffs.

“This is where I fucked that pathetic little fae and now it’s where I’m gonna give you their sloppy seconds,” he snarls in your face and you grit your teeth. Your stomach churns with a jealous rage.

Before you can snap back at him, Dragon Headhunter snaps his hips forward, impaling you on his massive cock with a solid stroke. Fire shoots from your core and burns through your entire body. A fierce scream echoes off the walls and your pussy spasms around his girth as your body tries to adjust to being split open on his cock.

But the Dragon barely lets you take a breath before he’s rearing back and snapping his hips back against yours. You groan lowly, actually thankful for all your previous lays today as they helped prepare you for this. Your pussy opens up for him, allowing him to drive in even deeper inside you with each movement. Letting your fury fuel you, jerk your hips, meeting his thrusts. The Dragon’s eyes roll back in his head.

“F-fuuuuck— augh— knew this fuckhole was gonna be good without even seeing it. Looked like a damn slut who’d take anything given to them,” he says darkly, his tongue slipping as he gets more and more lost in the pleasure of your cunt.

Your eyes narrow at him, no matter how good he’s making you feel. Each pump of his hips brushes along every nerve in your core and it sends you flying, your body shaking with unimaginable pleasure. Your sopping cunt sucks him back in with every thrust, needing him inside you despite everything.

Wanting to drive him to the brink of insanity, your hands snap out and sink in between his sensitive scales. The Dragon throws back his head and lets out a ferocious roar. Then he falls forward, elbows caging you in and rutting up into your perfect pussy.

“Tell me why you sold me on this job. Did you think I was right for it?” you ask lowly, your breaths mingling with your close vicinity. Needing to ask and know the truth.

Dragon Headhunter chuckles and your pussy flutters around him, making him groan. He leans in and bites down on your neck, marking you with the memory of this moment. Then he leans back enough to look in your eye to deliver the blow.

“Nah, I just wanted this sweet cunt,” he says breathlessly, his words so simple yet infuriating. You dig your nails into the flesh beneath his scales the Dragon groans in pain, his hips surging forward into your tight heat.

“Fuck you.”

Dragon Headhunters eyes burn brightly, finally matching the anger in your own gaze. He smirks wickedly, flashing his fangs at you in a clear threat.

“Gladly.”

His tail whips out, quickly wrapping around your wrists and pinning you to the table. With a growl that sends chills up your spine, the Dragon picks up his pace, fucking up into you with a stamina your poor human body can barely handle as it jerks up with every thrust. A loud mewl rips from your throat as his cock bullies into your cervix with each stroke. His eyes gleam devilishly as he watches how much of a mess he’s turning you into.

But it’s not enough. His free hand flies to your puffy little clit and rubs your bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts. Your jaw drops, all the sensations building up inside you have you nearly losing your mind.

You scream in relief a when you finally fall off the edge. Your body shaking, hips rising off the table with the force of your orgasm. For a moment you see white and you hear the Dragon roar once more as he follows right after you. And when you open your eyes you gasp to see fire shooting out from his throat, teasing you. The heat it emits just turns you on even more, prolonging an already intense climax.

It’s only once you finally come down from the high of a lifetime do you seem to gain common sense again. You huff, your anger still palpable but more half-hearted as you tear yourself away from him. You slide off the table, heading toward your discarded clothes, needing to get out of here.

“I’m leaving,” you announce, quickly sliding your clothes back on. Ignoring the way your combined release drips out of you and pools in your panties.

“You’re under contract, sweets,” Dragon Headhunter replies, his tone filled with amused arrogance.

You whip around to face him yet unable to reply. He’s right. You’re stuck here. But is it really that bad that you are?

Seeing your hesitance to reply, thoughts clearly spinning through your mind, Dragon Headhunter smirks and saunters up to you in all his naked glory. “Welcome to Free Use City. Embrace it.”

Leaving the conference room you think over what he said. This was your chance at a fresh start and you wanted to make the most of it. In a Free Use City you guess that meant fucking strangers. Truly embracing the city for what it was and what it offered. You could do that! In your office building alone there were hundreds of people to choose from. You look around the office, wondering if IT Robot’s offer was still on the table. He’s bound to know everything about pleasuring a human. Or perhaps you could find Bunny Secretary and see if you could throw yourself at him again. And well… there was always that Demon Guard you passed on the way in. You’re sure he could show a sinful time.

[fawnnlvr]

club infatuation | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x bombshell!reader

masterlist

summary: in which spencer reid decides to attend a club to experience what he didn't in his early 20s and there, he meets a beautiful woman who volunteers to show him why one should enjoy clubbing

word count: 3.1k

author's note: hiiiiii :3 i hope you all enjoy this. i know i did while writing it. i tried something new with the format of my writing so i hope its alright. thank you for reading!!! maybe part 2. sorry this reading is so long. UPDATE: i wrote this right after i found that studies showed that dancing can help with mental health. i have a strong need to rewrite it now... :(

The club was loud.

Music blared throughout the establishment with colorful flashing lights from the dance floor occasionally leaving him partially blind. This was not Spencer's normal scene. He wasn't too keen on crowded places, especially breeding grounds for human fluids and bacteria which is amplified with the factors of alcohol and the high of having letting loose for a night out.

Spencer wove through the crowd of people, politely excusing himself as he did his best to try not to make contact with anyone. He came to the club for one thing and one thing only.

Fun.

Well he wanted to experience fun. He was nearing his late twenties, his entire life filled with further advancing his knowledge and brain power with the help of his eidetic memory. Due to this memory, he has never once remembered a time where he ever felt normal. Like he belonged. Like he could consider himself apart of the rest of the people his age. He has long come to terms that something like that wasn't possible, yet there was always a desire to experience it. Just for one simple night.

Normally, his weekends and leisure time off of work were filled with 'boring topics' his coworkers didn't consider fun in the slightest. Any chance for Spencer to try and connect with the BAU outside of work through film festivals, horror movie showings, and science fiction conventions were all turned down without a spare thought.

Spencer was used to being alone. He was so his entire life, so he led himself to believe that the rejections of his colleagues didn't affect him much but it all so did. His colleagues possessed a knowledge that wasn't in his realms of understanding and that were the abilities to socialize so easily with others. When out at bars, he'd watch the girls easily make friends with a group of girls they meet and Morgan would always find a way to flirt with girls to the point where he would quickly leave the function with somebody in his arms. Spencer, wasn't quite like them.

He wasn't too sure why he chose to go this club in particular. It was a twenty minute subway ride from his home, newly opened which meant heavily popular, and most importantly, he never had a good time at clubs, but he decided on a whim, that tonight would be the night to change that.

Now Spencer was sat at the bar, seeking asylum for his sensitive hearing and eyes away from the dance floor. He asked the bartender for a mocktail, carefully making sure that he participated in safe and healthy behaviors as he is already in a place he felt uncomfortable in.

He held the drink up to his lips, taking a small sip as he let his eyes wander over his environment. The main center was filled with a lot of people dancing fervently to a pop song with more drum beats than a marching band and the constant repetition of one syllable of a word that fades into a remix of another pop song. He watched as couples drunkenly put their hands on one another. He furrowed his eyebrows at the corny smirk a man would have as he introduced himself to a group of women. Then finally, his eyes roamed towards the booths near the corners of the club, tucked in a place that was separated with a velvet rope.

Within those booths held the prettiest girl he has probably ever come across.

You.

You sat in the booth, your legs crossed over one another as you leaned back into your seat. Your booth was surrounded by a few people, all of whom looking nice but for some reason, Spencer couldn't tear his eyes off you.

He didn't mean to stare with the intent of lust or romantic pursuence, but simple admiration. You had a unique beauty he could have only ever imagined in fantasy books, but when the human mind imagines something not seen before and creatively put together, it gets blurry. Yet you were like the ethereal goddess of a fantasy book being brought into real life.

The way you carried yourself, the energy that surrounded you that he could feel even meters away, and your features made it almost impossible for him to turn away. Keyword being almost.

It seemed as if you had this feeling that somebody was staring, very intensely, and your eyes quickly glanced in the direction it was coming from. Spencer felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he hastened turned away, taking another sip of his drink with nervous gulp. His adams apple bobbing up and down to emphasize his racing heart.

His eyes betrayed him by flickering back so soon after the initial eye contact and you were still looking at him. Instead of your body facing those at your booth, it was now open towards him, arms crossed as your eyes freely roamed his entire body before stopping at his face.

Spencer could've sworn he saw you bit your lip but the lighting of the club made the validity of his eyes seem weak. He felt as if all his senses became numb the more he stared.

You stared at him with half lidded eyes, giving the effect of being simply tired or maybe your eyes were strained from the events of the day.

The only thing that snapped him out of his daze once again was when you broke away your gaze to quickly mutter some words to your friends; an apologetic yet happy smile on your face as you stood up, waving goodbye.

The bouncer that was stationed at the section protected by velvet ropes had opened it for you and Spencer noticed that you were walking in the direct path towards him. His mind started to race. Did you think he was creepy? Was the staring too much? Were you about to throw him out? He had gotten the feeling that you were a V.I.P guest since you were in an inclusive area so maybe you held power to throw out whomever you pleased.

Having an IQ of 187 did not help him at all in making a quick decision on what to do as you neared.

"Hi." You smiled as you sat down in the seat beside him, body fully facing him as you rested your arm on the bar table to rest your head on.

"H-Hi." Spencer stuttered and quickly regretted even opening his mouth.

"Come here often?"

"Considering the club just opened last month, not really. It's my first time."

"First time here?" Your soft voice inquired. Despite the chaotic sounds surrounding the two of you, Spencer felt as if you simply calmed down and slowed the world around him.

"At any club actually." He felt almost ashamed to admit it aloud but his mouth moved faster than his rational at that moment. Nervous brown eyes met yours, expecting to be met with judgement but you simply had no reaction.

"Not your thing?" You asked and he nodded, feeling understood for once.

He looked down towards his lap, the sense of nervousness not really going away, "I just came here to see what it's like. Why people find it so fun."

"What do you think of it so far?"

"Loud. Messy. Crowded. Breeding grounds for bacteria." He could go on with the list but decided it'd be better to not rant about negatives on his first time meeting someone new.

"Yeah, you pretty much hit all the points on clubbing." you laughed at his descriptions, watching the mild disgust in his face as he recounts all the things he disliked about the club and clubbing culture within the small times he's been there.

"Do you enjoy it?" he inquired, wanting to see your opinion on this event that he believed only advertised to extroverts who were good at socializing like you.

"It can fun at sometimes, but you really just need to go with someone to make it fun and to ignore all the, "you paused to think, "unfavorable aspects of it."

Spencer wasn't an idiot. He knew what you were insinuating and to some extent, he still wasn't sure if he wanted to believe it or if his mind would allow him to believe it.

Your eyes flickered to the drink on the table, his fingers her fidgeting with the ends of it. "Mocktail?"

"I don't want to drink." Addictions are something he doesn't take lightly. He doesn't want to participate in any of it really as statistics show that one can be more susceptible to an addictions if one had another prior.

Nodding your head, you left it at that. "Well drinking no alcohol and sitting by your lonesome self here doesn't quite sound like fun. To see why people enjoy clubbing, you should immerse yourself in the experience." You looked at him through your eyelashes, "Do you want me to show you?"

Completely enamored by your entire person, who was he to deny such a reject.

He nodded his head, almost too fast, and you moved his drink away from his hand while using the other to grab his hand. The two of you stood up and he simply followed your lead.

As you moved through the crowd, it was like they made a way for you. He watched as those looked towards your figure with suprise before quickly falling out your way. Oh's and small gasps escaped their mouths as if it was their first time ever seeing somebody like you.

You walked with such confidence— head held up high, indifference on your face as men tried to stop you (while you clearly held the hand of another) but you swatted them away with your hand, and you walked so professionally that one may have mistaken you for some sort of a celebrity. You might just have been one if Spencer had to guess but due to Spencer's great memory, he figured he would've known if he had.

Before he knew it, you and him were in the middle of the dance floor and you kept your grip on his hand, very loosely, as you locked eyes with him, pulling him closer.

This was different.

Spencer has never danced before. Well never danced in front of people, let alone a gorgeous woman who he considered way out of his league. And he has also never had a woman dancing in front of him. He was scared to look down, scared to see her.

That was until she brought a hand to his chin, pulling his focus down. "Come on, join me."

"I don't da—"

"Just let loose and follow my lead."

His heart must've skipped multiple beats the moment you gently grabbed his hands and placed it on your figure as you moved to the music. Hands resting on your waist, he couldn't find it in himself to get a grip because he still wasn't sure if this was alright at all.

The moment you took a step closer, making your bodies just slightly touched, paired with the friction of your movements, he was sure he was in fact not dreaming.

Loosen up. Your words echoed in his mind. His eyes searched those around him, wanting to try to copy their movements but with you so close to him, he did his best to match your movement— then he quickly stopped when he realized he was not at all coordinated or blessed with groovy rhythmic genes.

A small smile crept up on your face as his awkward movements made even him cringe.

"Sorry."

You laughed, "Let's start with what your comfortable with."

"The robot?" He questioned with a nervous chuckle.

"Okay, then let's see it, handsome."

Oh how that word flowed off your tongue so easily and carelessly yet it was the beginning of his demise. His brain blew a fuse but thankfully, the added factors of your touch had disappeared when you stepped back to watch him work.

He once again looked around, seeing if anybody was watching him about to make a fool of himself but your voice called him back to focus.

"Are you worried about people watching?" he nodded, "Shall I blindfold you with my bra?"

He laughed. It was more of a yell than a laugh because of the absurdity. You stared at him, head tilted with the most genuine yet teasing smile when you stated such a random thing like it was the best solution.

You laughed along with him, seeing his body relax a bit more. "There you go. Release all that tension in your body."

"I actually needed that for the robot so your little trick to make me laugh and dance better just actually made it worse."

A gasp escaped your lips, "You're right. Let's catch it in the air before it leaves forever." You acted out grabbing the air around him before pushing it towards his body, making little sound effects to complete it all. "Phew! Phew! Phew!"

Spencer joined in on your little show as he wiggled his body to act as if your efforts were fully affecting him.

And at the last little sound effect, you sent a flying kiss, to which he smiled, caught, and placed it to his heart.

"I can feel the music monsters taking over my body now." Spencer smiled as he mimicked robotic movements, making angles with his arms and moving very stiffly. Now this was a move he could get behind.

"Oh no, its spreading to me too." You imitated Spencer, mirroring him almost exactly.

How did Spencer get to this moment? He went from sitting alone at the bar drinking a mocktail to getting woman he deemed to have a beauty, that could compare to no other, dancing like a robot. He wasn't sure what suprised him more, the face that he was doing a nerdy robot move in front of a crowd of people (most of which already has their attention on the woman he was with) or the fact that you were doing it with him.

The fact that you adopted your dance moves for him to feel comfortable when he was so out of place and visibly uneasy, made him feel special. Like he was listened to.

After a small moment of doing robotic dance moves, his and yours eyes connect once again before your lips opened to laugh.

"That was the first time I had ever done that at a club." you admitted.

"I feel honored to be the first one to experience it."

"Well you should feel so honored, it's not everyday one gets blessed with such a scene. Although, I guess it'll be safe to say your ready for another step towards being the dancing queen as ABBA put it."

"More than ready."

You smiled, more of a smirk, as if telling him he won't be prepared for what you had in store. Sometimes Spencer hated when he was right and this was a moment that nothing could have prepared him for.

The music the DJ had played thus far was very pop and chaotic that was perfect for when one wanted to simply let loose and dance crazy. However, one glance and nod towards the DJ table, most importantly, the clock behind the table, had completely changed the scene.

Blue lights that danced along the bodies of the people of the floor had slowly faded into a purple and the music changed into this sort of jazzy but pop instrumental with a sultry voice that completely changed the mood of the scene.

"It's 10pm."

"What does that mean?"

It seemed like everybody around him had found a partner and were beginning to move in a seductive manner. Spencer looked down towards you, you seemed closer than you were before. A small difference but it had a huge impact nonetheless.

"Watch, pretty boy." you walked closer to him and turned around, pressing your back side to his chest before reaching for both his hands and guiding them to the sides of your figure. Leading his hands from the sides of the top of your waist, all the way down to your hips, and towards your thighs. Very, very slowly.

You felt his breath hitch, his heartbeat start to speed. Unsure fingers slowly finding its way as you held it.

He stuttered, "I-Is this alright?"

You gave him a small nod, before moving your body to the music, creating more friction between the two of you. The heat of both your bodies created this bond, an intertwinment that none of you were willing to break.

This was the second time you've done this move, yet this time it felt much much more intimate than before. Bodies fully pressed against one another while the mood was set with the slow and erotic music, Spencer felt the last strand of his uptightness let go.

All he could focus on was you. Your intoxicating, confident, beautiful self.

He felt a sort of confidence with you by his side, a confidence that only you brought out because you made him comfortable in the first place. A confidence that only you could've brought out of him within only thirty minutes of knowing each other.

His hands slipped towards your stomach, pulling you closer and your head tilted back in his chest to look up at him with a smile. You used one arm to rest on top of his arm that was wrapped around your waist, before using your free one to touch his face, down his jaw, and to his neck.

You both swayed to the music; he used your body to guide his. His hot breath kissed your skin.

"Hey." you softly called out.

"Yes?" he exhaled, in a total daze.

"What's your name, handsome?"

"Spencer. Spencer Reid." he sounded breathless, maybe due to the fact that the two of you shared such an intimate moment, or maybe because they two of you did that and still didn't know each others names.

He felt you stop for a moment before you completely turned around, your hands steadying his as his hands rested on your hips.

"As in Doctor Spencer Reid that wrote those articles about psychology and neurology."

"Y-You've read them?"

Your hands rested on his chest as you stared him up and down, your teeth catching your lip. "Gosh, your brain is hot and so are you. God really does have favorites."

Spencer felt his face and ears heat up even more.

"Wanna get out of here?"

It didn't take much for Spencer to start nodding like his life depended on it like he did when you first asked him if you could show him how to have fun. And just like earlier that night, you grabbed his hand and led him to a new night and adventure towards fun he wouldn't have thought was ever possible.

—

"What the actual f—" Emily Prentiss stared at the scene in front of her, utterly speechless as her jaw was like a magnet to the floor. Her eyes trailed towards the two figures leaving the establishment. Her coworker followed around this beautiful, bombshell of a girl like a lovesick puppy. She also watched as the youngest of her team was dancing with a complete stranger in a place he would've been screaming about the different bacteria.

"I am either not sober enough or too drunk." The pair had disappeared into the night and that's when Emily took a deep breath, before minding her own business and getting to work on why she came in that night.

[imsobadatnicknames2]

sorry to bother you and please delete this if it's too obnoxious but can you explain what was going on in that last post with the "smol bean hitler" thing I have cognitive issues and definitely want to block at least one of the people involved but I don't really understand what's being said?

Okay I don't blame you for not understanding it because there's a lot of context there. I will do my best to give a rundown of the situation and explain everything to the best of my ability, but my account of the events might be incompelte because I really didn't witness everything.

A little over a week ago, tumblr user siwolism made a post about how she watches a lot of videos about korean fried chicken, and she had noticed a trend in the comments of these videos: a lot of those videos had comments from americans (mainly black americans) bragging about how the only reason why koreans have fried chicken is because african-american soldiers took the recipe to korea during the korean war. She said that as a korean she found these comments uncomfortable because for korean people the korean war was an extremely bloody conflict and korea hasn't still fully recovering from its effects, and americans displaying such pride about any of the things they did during the korean war is an appalling display of american chauvinism. And that the fact that black americans were displaying the same chauvinistic mindset that she would have expected from whtie americans showed that being black or any racial minority in america doesn't exempt anyone from the privileges of american imperialism or the chauvinism of defending it.

At some point I got involved by making a comment on the post, about how I found it silly that people were insulting op and tagging the post as "#tw antiblackness" when all she did was complain that it's downright evil for americans, regardless of race, to joke about the time the USA invaded korea so violently that 1 out of every 10 koreans got killed.

(I still stand by that, considering that the post didn't complain about black ppl in america in general, only about the ones that she saw acting in a specific chauvinistic way, and despite how much people have accused her since of "singling out" black americans as the main beneficiaries or defenders of american imperialism, the post went out of its way to make it clear that this was just a manifestation of a wider problem that applies to all americans regardless of race)

I also made another addition to the post about how i think many of the people making those comments were probably motivated by the way so many african-american inventions in the US have their roots erased once they become popular with non-black people, but that in my opinion they were failing to understand that, despite how superficially similar they may look, "a black american telling a white american that they should be thankful because black people invented jazz and rock" is a fundamentally different situation from "a black american telling a korean that they should be thankful because black people brought fried chicken to them during the war", because the power dynamics between these two countries and the history of the korean war fundamentally changes the situation.

These additions in particular picked up a lot of steam, which somewhat accelerated the post in question breaking containment.

Siwolism was accused of being antiblack for using the term "amerikkka" in her post. Your mileage may vary on that one, but regardless of your opinion I don't think it invalidates any of the things she said in the post.

She was accused of erasing the racism and oppression that black people face in the USA. She repeatedly clarified that she (like any serious anti-imperialist) recognizes that racial minorities in the imperial core face racism and oppression, but that their oppression in that axis doesn't erase the fact that living in the imperial core puts them in a position of privilege over people in the imperial periphery.

She was also accused of erasing anti-black racism in korea (which is a complete non-sequitur tbh, unless you're interpreting her post as "all black people oppress all korean people" and not "black people in america have the capacity to act in imperialistic ways toward people in other countries"). She clarified that she thinks racial discrimination in south korea is a serious issue, that she faces a great deal of it as a north korean immigrant of hui chinese descent, but that she obviously doesn't have it as bad as the discrimination black people face in korea. However, she said the situation of a black person from korea and a black person from america is not the same with relation to imperialism, and when a black soldier is stationed in one of the numerous american military bases in korea they don't face the same struggles as a korean black person because they're acting as part of an imperialist occupying force.

As the post broke containment, she faced increasing levels of harassment. She started getting anons calling her anti-asian slurs, particularly someone who called her an "antiblack gook bitch", "gook" being a slur extensively used by american soldiers to refer to koreans during the korean war.

(that might have been the same person who left me an anon calling me a "fucking antiblack beaner" in response to my additions to silowism's post but who knows)

She also had multiple anons telling her that they hoped she and all her friends got killed by the next american soldier they encountered, which is especially vile considering that american soliders stationed in military bases in south korea have a history of killing and commiting sexual violence against korean women and facing no consequences for it, to the point that the US government coerced the South Korean government into signing a treaty that prevents any US soldiers caught comitting such acts from being tried in a South Korean court.

At some point she psoted the following meme

This is a meme that has been used numerous times on this website to make fun fo the way how a post gets misinterpreted in increasingly ridiculous ways as it gets further away from your mutual circle. I think it's clear that none of the categories on the right are targeted specifically at black people, but instead at the people running with the worst possible interpretation of anything she said in her post (a lot of whom weren't even black americans, I think it's important to acknowledge that a lot of them were white americans who were pissed of that imperialism were being called out and decided to amplify the accusations of racism because it was a progressive-sounding way to shut down discussions of american imperialism). Still, a lot of people ran with the worst faith interpreation of it and started talking about how she "literally said all black people are illiterate chimpanzees"

She also, at some point, after days of continued harrassment, told one of the people harassing her to hang themselves. Again, people ran with the worst possible interpreation of it to talk about how "she's literally sending lynching theats to black people"

Eventually the harassment was so much that she deleted her blog.

Almost two weeks later people keep playing telephone with increasingly outlandish misinterpretations of the things she said, resulting in the tags you saw screenshotted on the post you're referring to, where someone accused her of "implying black people invented imperialism"

so yeah like I'm not going to tell you who to block or even to block anyone at all, but that's my attempt at catching you up to speed on what's going on in that post.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Picture of a Cat.

Spencer Reid x Forensic!reader

main masterlist

Summary: After months of emailing back and forth, you finally meet the person you've been chatting with every day. Then you realize that Spencer is not just a girl's name.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. with spencer of the early seasons very much in love in mind. the reader has a cat and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and maybe lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This is pretty chaotic and not particularly serious😭 It might be best not to try to make sense of it. They're just two idiots in love, really.

To say that Spencer was dying of nervousness was not enough to describe his true feelings.

From the moment he woke up this morning without any mail from you in his inbox, he began to feel that his day was going wrong and that it was becoming an endless nightmare. He had lost count of all the times he had checked his mail at work, hoping to see even a one-line message from you to calm his anxiety.

As someone who had received your good morning every day without fail for the last four months that you had been talking to each other daily, he was completely taken aback and couldn't quite put his finger on why. Perhaps he had said something to offend you, or maybe you were just not feeling the spark anymore. But astonishingly, none of your numerous emails that he had taken the time to reread on the jet indicated any cause for concern.

Everything had been so positive with you recently, and he was grateful to have someone to talk to, even if it was through a computer, every time he finished a challenging case and his mind just wanted to focus on something else. He found great comfort in reading about your day and your thoughts every morning, as if it were his newspaper. Even the pictures you always sent him of your cat sleeping in cute poses, eating, or doing anything else made him smile and gave him the idea of adopting a pet, even when he had never thought about the possibility of it before. You always helped him realize some desires he hadn't previously considered.

But suddenly he didn't have any of it. Nothing at all.

Reid's gaze fell once upon the computer on his desk, and his face was illuminated by its light as he reopened his email page for what might have been the thousandth time that day. His fingers tapped over and over on his knee in an attempt to calm his nerves as the page loaded at a slow pace. He took the opportunity to look at the time on the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. It was ten o'clock at night, and yet, once again, there was no trace of you among his messages.

His heart stopped for a second when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he had to close the page he had opened on his computer at full speed before he could even realize who it was.

“Hey, take it easy, kid.” Derek said gently, removing his hand from his shoulder and stepping back a step. His eyes fell on the computer screen, and he was intrigued. “What were you watching?” He asked, with a playful smile.

“N-nothing.” Spencer's voice trembled beyond his control, and he quickly rose from his chair, trying to shield the computer with his body.

You had been his best-kept secret for quite some time, and he was content with that. He enjoyed the idea of maintaining a certain level of privacy in that aspect of his life, as something just between you two. It was more special and romantic that way.

“Nothing? Is that what they call those things now?” Derek inquired, his tone teasing but not unkind. The boy blushed a little, unsure why. “I must admit I'm surprised.”

Reid had to think for a few seconds to figure out what his colleague was talking about, but even before he could understand, Morgan had started speaking again.

“Anyway, turn that off.” He said, pointing to the computer and settling his bag over his shoulder, ready to go. “Someone's waiting for you in the boardroom.”

Almost automatically, Spencer frowned and watched him, waiting for him to provide more information or at least laugh if he was making a joke. However, that didn't occur. Derek didn't laugh at him or anything of that nature.

“Go, Reid. It might be best not to keep the girl waiting.” He gave his friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile before heading off on the way to the elevator.

A girl? Waiting for him? How?

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts, attempting to grasp the meaning behind Derek's words and the circumstances surrounding the supposed visitor. With a measured pace, he stepped away from his desk and proceeded down the hallway, heading for the boardroom with a contemplative demeanor.

As he opened the door and cautiously stepped inside, he was met with the most glorious sight of his life, the one he had waited so long for, the one that now quickened his pulse and seemed to bring him back to life after feeling dead all day.

You.

Standing at the table, looking intently at the various maps and data scattered around the round table in the center of the room. So deep in thought that you were not even aware of his presence. As pretty as in the pictures of you that he had seen.

He couldn't help but let out a little "oh my" at the sight of you. His heart was pounding so hard he thought he could hear it from across the room, or maybe his ears were just ringing from the blood rushing to his head. Reid stood still, looking at you, amazed. He could see how the light touched your hair and how you bit your lip as you concentrated on organizing the papers and a folder in your hand. It was real. It had to be real.

“Hi.” His voice suddenly startled you, making you realize that you were no longer alone and that the door was now open.

You look up from the documents you are examining and see him by chance. It takes you a moment to realize that he works there, and only by the FBI badge in his pants pocket.

“Hi.” You responded after giving him a very obvious visual scan.

Your voice.

It was the first time he'd heard you speak, and it was just as he'd imagined it would be.

“I’m-” You extended your hand in a cordial manner to introduce yourself, but he interrupted.

“I know who you are.” He spoke quickly, smiling at you. “I...I...you are...” Reid cursed himself for stuttering the sentence as his tongue suddenly felt too heavy in his mouth.

“Okay…I'm waiting for someone.” You said it politely, but your tone showed your anxiety.

Oh, you didn't know it was him.

Spencer let out a laugh to relieve the growing tension, but it came out sounding like a cough. He wanted to hit himself. Why was he acting like a child? He was an agent, for God's sake. His job was to talk to complete strangers every day and do entire profiles without getting nervous. He found it hard to understand how that was changing so much now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak more clearly.

“Yes, I know.” He replied, sounding a bit nervous. His voice was a little shaky, as if he was straining to get the words out.

“Do you know if this person is coming?” You were standing there with your arms crossed, trying to see if anyone else was coming after him.

At that moment, a look of confusion came over his face. It had not even crossed your mind that it might be him. And although it was to be expected and totally understandable since you had never seen a picture of him, Spencer still felt a twinge of pain and insecurity inside. Perhaps you expected him to look different, or at least not look like a kid playing federal agent.

Maybe it would have been helpful if he had sent you a picture of himself when you sent yours. That way, you might have had a better idea of what to expect. But you were very understanding of his insecurities and lack of comfort with the photos at the time. So he thought everything would be fine anyway…he was so wrong.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before speaking up. “Actually, it's me.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to hide how nervous he was, with little success.

As soon as he said it, you looked surprised, your mouth slightly open, and then you laughed.

“That's pretty funny.” You said it with a slightly uncomfortable smile. When you realized he wasn't laughing, you added, “Good joke.”

Seeing your reaction, Spencer felt the urge to shrink back and disappear, as if that action could erase the last few seconds of your memory and also erase the feeling he suddenly had of having screwed up in an unfamiliar way. He felt his chest tighten as you asked him again if the person you were waiting for was coming. Was it so hard to believe that he was the person you were talking to? The one who earned your trust and affection?

“I spent several hours on a plane, so please let me know if your colleague is coming.” You spoke again, your tone conveying a hint of disappointment and fatigue. “If I'm a nuisance and Spencer doesn't want to see me, I'd appreciate knowing that.”

Hearing you say his first name gave him an unexpected shiver. It sounded so pleasant and intimate. He took another deep breath and forced herself to speak clearly.

“Wait, he does want to see you.” He paused for a moment, realizing he sounded a bit ridiculous. “I mean, I do. I'm Spencer.”

You're momentarily taken aback, unsure if the guy in front of you is joking. His nervous expression suggests otherwise, and you even entertain the possibility that he might be crazy.

Oh my goodness, you were all alone on a practically empty floor of the FBI offices with an insane agent.

“Just let me know if she's coming or not, please.” You said, taking a few steps back to be at a safe distance from him.

His mouth was so dry he could only manage a soft, hoarse whisper. “She? Did you think I was a girl?”

“You?” You furrowed your brow, feeling more confused and uneasy.

At last, he had a suggestion and reached into his pocket to retrieve his badge, holding it out to you in a gesture that seemed to convey innocence.

“I’m Spencer Reid.” He said, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he was caught off guard by the peculiar turn of events.

You looked at the badge, confused, and slowly looked up, looking into his eyes closely for the first time. You studied his face intently, not really believing it.

“Are you Spencer? My Spencer?” You asked.

When you said “my,” he felt a flutter in his chest. His brain was trying to tell him not to get too invested in the moment, but the vulnerable part of him was moved by the way you said it, like he was all yours. There was a special air of affection there that he liked.

“Yes.” He replied, almost in a whisper. “I am.”

You had to take a moment to process the information, eyes glued to his as you tried to make sense of it. Little by little, you come to understand. This was the person you had been talking to every day for months—the person with whom you had shared your fears, stories, and dreams. Yet you hadn't even asked him for a picture or a call—anything that would have made you realize that he wasn't a woman. It seems almost unreal to you to have fallen into such a confusion.

“I sent pictures of my cat to a man?!” Was the first thing you thought, and it managed to come out of your mouth clearly, in an indignant tone. “I said you were my soulmate!”

Now you were the one who sounded insane.

He stood there for a few moments, looking at you and seeing the different emotions on your face. When he finally spoke, his voice had a hint of insecurity in it.

“Yes…but your cat is cute, and you take good pictures.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit nervous. “Did you know that the evocative power of images is widely studied? They can help us verbalize and even rescue forgotten memories and stories from our collective memory and-” He silences himself. “Sorry.”

When he fell silent, your brain couldn't do the same, and thousands of hard-to-filter words began to appear. You had a strange feeling in your chest, a mixture of familiarity with the way his ramblings sounded to you, just like the emails you loved so much, and confusion about the whole situation.

“This is so strange.” You said to yourself, pacing around the room a couple of times. “I was so stupid-”

He observed you with great interest, trying to discern the thoughts and feelings that were likely swirling in your mind. He could empathize with your confusion, as he was also uncertain about the circumstances. He couldn't blame you for feeling bewildered. You had embarked on your journey with the expectation of meeting a girl named Spencer, but instead, you encountered him. You had envisioned a lovely girl, and you found him—a simple individual, a nerd who had been told on numerous occasions that nerds lacked charm.

“No. You're not.” He said, attempting to manage his desire to bridge the gap and offer solace. “It was a misunderstanding. I should have provided you with more information.”

“How would you even start a conversation by saying you were a man?” You let out a laugh to yourself. “I would have stopped talking to you instantly.”

The sentence hit him right in the heart.

The two of you had the opportunity to communicate by mail when your boss asked you to send reports on several of the autopsies with similarities you had done to the BAU. It was then that a picture of your cat was sent in the middle of the files. Spencer was the one who received it and made an attempt at a joke after your long apology. And then another, and another, until you ended up talking for four months until now.

But if you had known from the beginning that he wasn't a woman, you wouldn't have bothered to get to know him at all.

“I...I don't know what to tell you..” He admitted, sounding a little more vulnerable. “But why did you think I was a woman?”

After a moment's thought, you said. “Your name made me think of a girl I knew in college. And you...you were so nice and sweet in your emails that I found it hard to believe that a man could be like that through a screen.”

When you shared how you perceived him through his emails, it seemed that a certain vulnerability came to light. The situation had turned the tables, and now he was the one standing there trying to process the information.

“I thought I finally had a friend. You know what my job is like...and yours is just as all-consuming.” You spoke again, having to sit for a moment in one of the chairs in the place, trying to calm down. “It would've been great to have someone who understood me as a friend.”

He felt a pang in his heart at your words and was instantly reminded of the times you'd confided in him about how isolated you felt in your lab, surrounded by dead people and computers.

“You can still do that.” He replied without thinking. “I’m still the same person as before, just different packaging.”

For you, it was much more than that. First of all, you trusted him in the beginning because you thought he was a girl; that's why he understood you so much and you had that special connection.

Hell, you'd even told him how bad your period was, and he'd understood so well. He'd given you tips and facts that you didn't know that were beyond your expectations of what the average man knew.

“I mean, I'm still someone you can talk to.” He continued, his hands moving nervously in his pockets. “Unless you...unless you don't feel that way anymore.”

When you finally spoke, your voice sounded almost whispery and gentle. He couldn’t help but lift his gaze from the floor to you, feeling how his body relaxed just a bit with the soft sound of your voice.

“No, no. I still want to talk to you…if you’re my Spencer.”

“I am, all yours.” He replied with a smile.

[babyleostuff]

baby, you’re a drunk mess

fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!wonwoo x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 958

. . . being drunk is not that bad when you have wonwoo to take care of you

wonwoo knew exactly how this night would end the second he received a message from seungcheol, inviting you over for a drink. it never ended with only a drink. 

„baby, lean on me,” wonwoo grabbed you tighter by your waist, as you stumbled over your own feet, trying to act as if you weren't totally waisted. “i’m going to kill mingyu for making her play that drinking game”. 

„m’ fine,” you mumbled. „see, i can walk on m’ own,” you took his hand that was resting on your hip, and shoved it away, taking a step forward. wonwoo smirked at your weak attempt to push him away, considering you were drunk out of your mind, but your confidence that you were so much stronger than him was truly comical. he knew he shouldn’t have let you go, but maybe if you eventually ran into a wall or something you’d cooperate better because there was no way he’d get you home with you acting like this. 

wonwoo could only shake his head in amusement, while following your every slow step. there was no way he’d actually let you fall. „you’re doing great, sweetie, but let me help you, hm?” you whipped your head around, glaring at him. „i can do it,” you hiccuped, „on m’ own,” you said, but as you took another step, you stumbled once again, falling right back into your boyfriend’s embrace. 

„are you done?” he shifted you around, so he could hold you properly, taking most of your body weight on him. you nodded, and put your hands around his bicep, finally calming down. wonwoo slowly started walking towards your apartment, holding you tenderly, and even though he didn't have to see your drooping eyelids, he could feel your energy dropping with every step. 

somehow he managed to open the door and get you to the bed without either of you falling over. "okay, now let's lie down," he said quietly so as not to startle you, seeing that you were already half asleep. you nodded weakly, and with his help, you finally managed to lie on the bed.

wonwoo stroked your head gently and kissed your slightly sweaty forehead before turning on the bedside lamp next to the bed so he could turn off the main light and enflug your room into soft darkness.

„wonwoo,” you called softly. 

„i’ll be right back baby, we have to wipe your makeup off.”

after turning off the light, he quickly went to the bathroom where he took all the things he would need to put you to sleep. "i'm coming," he said, grabbing one of his t-shirts and hoodies from the closet in case you were cold at night (especially since he knew that when you were drunk you became clingier and wearing his clothes always made you so happy). 

he put all the things on the bed and grabbed your hands. "come on honey, you need to change." happy that you were cooperating so much better than you were fifteen minutes ago, he easily helped you change into his clothes and placed you back on the pillows so he could wash off your makeup.

“you don't have to do this, wonwoo,” you whispered, but when he placed a cotton pad on your face, you closed your eyes and sighed, grateful that you had someone who could take care of you so well. "Was I very insufferable today?"

wonwoo didn’t even move, he just continued to focus on your face, slowly removing more of the makeup from your face. "you're never insufferable," he said. "don't ever say that."

"i know, but i feel like i ruined your night because you have to take care of me and-"

"do you want me to get mad at you?" he asked sharply, looking straight into your tired eyes. "you didn't ruin my night. being with my brothers and you at the same time is the biggest gift from the universe, no matter how drunk you are. i'm your boyfriend, i'm here to take care of you, just like you take care of me ,” he said, throwing out a used cotton pad. "should i remind you how many things you do for me when i'm busy at work? how you prepare my food for rehearsals, and how you do my laundry when i'm too tired to do it? when you listen to me complain for hours about how exhausted i am?"

"baby, drunk or not, i will always take care of you, and not because i have to, or because it's my duty, but because i love you," he said with sincerity in his eyes, and despite your not-so-sober state, you didn't miss his look full of love. "seeing you having fun with my friends means everything to me." you nodded slightly in understanding. what did you do to deserve jeon wonwoo?

"okay, make-up removed, clothes changed, do you need anything else?"

"maybe water?"

"of course, let’s just get you under the covers."

after covering you up, wonwoo went out to the kitchen to get a glass of water and painkillers for tomorrow morning and returned to your bedroom.

“okay, now we can-,” his words faltered when he saw you already asleep, your hand on his pillow, and you snuggled into yours. he placed the glass and pills on your bedside table quietly, and turned off the light before lying on his side of the bed, lifting your hand and placing it on his stomach. almost as if you knew in your sleep that he was next to you, you placed your head on his chest, treating it like your new, comfy pillow.

"i'm a drunk mess," you whispered after a while, kissing his jaw.

"yes. but you're my drunk mess."

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