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g0dlyunsub · 1 year ago

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make you mine.

spencer notices that you’ve been skipping a few too many team socials.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: romantic confessions, mentions of alcohol, mental health, hurt/comfort, plenty of fluff, spencer is a huge softie

word count :: 2.3k

author’s note :: don’t think i’ve written anything where reader and spencer confess their feelings for each other?? anyways here’s to more hurt/comfort

accompanying song :: sugar by brockhampton

“who’s up for drinks at o’keefe’s?”

a loud cheer erupts as the elevator doors open and reveals garcia standing in front of the entrance with a gleeful smile.

“count me in!” jj raises a hand and emily promptly follows suit. the two giggle as they lean in to embrace the tech analyst festively decorated with bright red jewelry.

when rossi declares the first round’s on me! the room breaks into an even louder celebration, whistles and applause sounding left and right.

moving past the crowd with a few happy chants of your own, you finally settle in your seat and stretch. sighing, you shuffle through the pile of case files sitting on your desk and stuff several into your shoulder bag. you tie up your hair and take out a pen from your pencil holder. once again exhaling with a deep sigh, you flip through the remaining manila folders, ready to document all of the evidence after today’s investigation.

“you’re coming, right?”

you crane your neck to your left to identify the source of the voice and see morgan, hands on his hips as he scans your face for your usual smile teeming with enthusiasm. you offer a feeble smile instead, shaking your head as you point to the case file you’re working on.

“i’d really love to, but… this paper isn’t going to write itself.”

“oh come on, not again. when’s it due?”

“tomorrow noon,” you mumble, gently rolling your head to the side to relieve the pain that’s been begging for release.

“you’re kidding. well, text me if you need a hand, or if you just want company.” morgan pats your back and turns around to leave, but not without first flashing you a wink. you watch as he slings his arm around garcia’s shoulder and as the rest of the team follow the pair out of the office, each giving you a wave before they disappear into the elevator.

“you’re not going?”

you turn around to see spencer, who’s just coming out of hotch’s office and holding a case file of his own. he turns off the lights upstairs and walks down the stairs, stopping once he’s in front of your desk.

“oh, um, no. i just need to finish writing this up really quickly, and then i’ll head back.”

you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and turn in your seat to get back to work, but spencer pulls up a chair beside you.

“that’s the third time in a row you’ve said no to them. you okay?”

you sit still for a second, unsure of how to respond. when spencer leans his elbow on the side of your desk, you know he’s not going to leave without an answer, so you look back at him hesitantly.

“yeah, i’m good. what’s keeping you here?”

“i just left a request to take two days off.”

“oh, nice. yeah, you seriously deserve a break,” you nod and offer a small smile. despite your friendly expression, the tiredness in your voice overrides your genuine words. before you can expose any more of your sluggish lethargy, you revert your attention back to your documents.

“yeah, and so do you.”

you turn to meet his gaze. a serious expression overtakes his usually lax face, tense facial muscles raising his brows and clenching his jaw.

you don’t know how to dispel the air of its building tension so you chuckle, playfully hitting him in the arm and shaking your head. “oh no, that’s- that’s not necessary. i’m fine, spence. besides, i took a break pretty recently.”

you rub your forehead tiredly as you speak and cock your head to the side, as if waiting for spencer’s dismissal so that you can get back to work.

“you haven’t requested a day off in 102 days. that’s 2448 hours.” spencer lowers his chin and studies you with his unwavering eyes. you feel your heart flutter alarmingly at his stare; you swallow slowly.

of course he’d be the one to count the days, no, the exact hour, since your last break. you try to play it off again by nudging him in the elbow, but he looks way too serious, concerned even. your arm hangs in the air with no warmth to latch on to.

“do you want to talk about it?”

when spencer leans forward, you feel your throat run dry. holding your breath, you weigh your next words very carefully.

“spence, i’m fine. i don’t need the time off.”

“too late.”

“what?” your jaw sets uncomfortably when you hear spencer’s response, and a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes before he quickly narrows them.

“it wasn’t just my request that i submitted. i put in yours as well.”

“wait- wait what?”

“yeah, hotch just wanted me to leave a physical copy for the sake of documentation. but he approved both of our requests before we even landed.”

“hold up… spence, you just… why would you do that?”

surprisingly, you don’t feel mad. yes, he’s just submitted a leave request without your permission, but maybe this is what you needed. someone to force you to take a break, because otherwise, you’d just work yourself to your death.

“like i said, you haven’t taken a leave in 102 days. constantly overworking yourself is detrimental and can lead to burnout because of the buildup of fatigue. in the long run, it can impair your memory and thinking. so,” he says as he grasps the pen out of your hand and closes your folder, “do you want to talk about it?”

as if he’s perfectly hit your pressure point, the tiredness you’ve been masking this entire time instantly unwinds. you let out a deep, weary sigh.

“you know, two weekends ago, when we went down to south carolina to investigate that case? and i stayed back for a few hours?”

out of the corner of your eye, you see spencer nod.

“well, i met up with a friend from college. we just hung out, you know, tried to catch up with each other.”

when you emit a stressed laugh, spencer reaches for your hand. he gently kneads your palm, and you take it as a signal to continue at your own pace. you turn your head to the side so you can take in the sight of him more fully.

“as we kept talking, i realized how she has so many friends, so much fun outside of her work. she’s even getting married in two months. and i just thought… i honestly wished for a second that she was a little more lonely, like me.”

you close your eyes, instantly regretting your confession. are you really making him listen to your childish concerns? you wish he’d laugh at you, dismiss it as plain stupidity and tell you that you were right to keep it to yourself. but he won’t, because he’s spencer reid.

spencer watches you intently, at how you force out a laugh and brush the tears that are welling up in your eyes. he observes the way you shake your head and refuse to look him in the eye.

“i’m so selfish, aren’t i? this whole thing–it’s so stupid. what am i saying, what am i even doing, wishing for something so foul?” your face crumples as you speak, and the words trail off into an absorbed mumble between your sniffles.

“it’s not stupid. you’re not selfish,” spencer hums quietly, lightly brushing his fingers against your cheek and dragging his thumb across your eyelashes to sweep your tears.

a strangled sob spills from your throat, and you lean into his touch, burying your cheek further into his palm. spencer waits patiently for you to recollect yourself, and coos a constant stream of it’s okay in your ear.

“at first, i thought it was the job, spence,” you finally utter your broken thoughts with a dry laugh, “but then i saw how everyone else was dealing with it. emily, jj, garcia. and then i realized, it’s me.”

spencer swivels your chair and draws you closer to him, so your thighs are lying between his legs. like a confused puppy, you let out a small yelp of surprise.

“you need to understand, y/n, that it takes time to find your rhythm, whether that’s at work, with your social life, or just a new place. so don’t compare yourself to others, because we’re all worried about something, and we’re all at different stages of coping.”

his longing glance breaches your lips, and you lower your eyes shyly. his soft-spokenness, undivided attention, and effortless verbal magic read your emotions like an open book. you don’t have to hide. the tears fall, fast and hard.

“let it all out. it’s okay. it’s always okay to cry, but you know what’s not okay? bottling it up all the time.” he pats your knees and rubs his palms across your trousers soothingly.

“bottling your feelings constantly, it’s what psychologists call repressive coping. numerous studies have found that repressive coping has been linked to a less resilient immune system, higher vulnerability to cardiovascular disease, as well as proneness to certain mental health conditions, including anxiety and depression,” spencer continues while looking at you sympathetically with his soft brown eyes.

slowly, you coil your arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace.

“you’re not really fair, spencer, you know that?”

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t just cite all these cool facts when you speak. i don’t have an argument to toss back at you.”

spencer pulls away from the embrace slightly, and looks down at you with eyes full of mirth. he bursts into a small spate of giggles, and it’s contagious, because you also exhale a bubbly laugh.

“i can’t help it,” he breathes quietly, and the air that exits his lips tickles your eyelashes.

spencer continues to watch you with the same stare a sculptor would possess over a block of marble, and breathes warmth into your body. you finally let your arms loose and withdraw from the hug, grinning shyly.

“let me finish this report, and i’ll head back with you. what am i even going to do with the two days off anyways?”

“i was thinking that we could check out the steam engine festival that’s happening downtown? the 611 is actually the sole surviving member of fourteen class j locomotives produced by the norfolk and western railway, and there’s going to be special excursions reserved for interested passengers.”

you laugh as spencer happily goes on his ramble, and you go back to writing your report – this time with a rejuvenated spirit.

“be honest, spence. you submitted my request because you wanted someone to go with you to this festival, didn’t you?”

“what? no!” spencer shakes his head, but your suspicions only grow when he starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“if you say so,” you grin cheekily, “but i could really use a drink tonight. you coming?”

spencer nods. he waits for you to finish up your edits and sign off the last page of the document, and helps you pack the rest of your belongings into your bag. with a boyish smile, he offers you his elbow, and you loop your arm in his.

there’s a lot to be thankful for, a lot to be hopeful for, and a lot to love spencer for.

“spencer?” you ask quietly. spencer hums back in response.

you don’t know why, but a sudden wave of confidence washes over you, urging you to say your next words without holding back.

“i like you.”

you thought your years spent concealing your feelings for spencer would have culminated in a much more formulated confession, but it’s too late to retrace your steps.

almost immediately, spencer looks at you with widened eyes. you’re almost scared he’s going to abandon you and run away in a nervous flight, but he stays put, his cheeks flushing with the shade of deep red.

“y-you can’t be drunk already,” he stammers and then abruptly chuckles, making you wonder if he’s just attempted to respond to your confession with a joke.

but maybe you are drunk, drunk from the hazy feeling of love and the highs of spilling the emotional torrent earlier. you furrow your brows and fix your stare on the office floor.

“no, spencer, i like you as in i really like you. like, romantically.”

spencer hesitates this time, moving only to press the elevator call button. you think you’ve just screwed up, right then and there, because his brows shoot up in surprise while his lips thin into a line.

but then slowly, he smiles, his hazel colored eyes light up, and his gaze darts left and right excitedly.

maybe all of the stars have aligned perfectly, because the air starts to collapse in on itself rapidly, and he stoops down to press a shaky kiss on your lips. it’s unlike anything you’ve ever shared with him, so different from when he hugs you, when he ruffles your hair, when he pats your back. it’s so tender and he leaves you to glow in the warmth of his lingering touch.

it’s only after he does this that you realize that you’ve actually just confessed to your coworker, the man you’ve had a crush on for so long, the reason why you show up to work with a smile. before you can second-guess anything, spencer grabs your wrist and pulls you in. it starts with small pecks, but then he works up to a bigger kiss; by the time the elevator arrives, you’ve fully melted into his arms.

“2190 days.”

you look up to meet his blissful gaze with your own love-tainted eyes. “hm?”

“that’s the number of days that have passed since i first met you and started to work with you. i uh,” spencer swallows, toying with the strands on his leather bag nervously.

he opens his mouth, only to shut it immediately after. he looks at you with a shy smile, the bashfulness dimpling his cheeks, and then clears his throat.

“i like you too.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you

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nemo-bros · 11 months ago

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hi this is your very friendly reminder that low-tech and no-tech AAC is just as valid as high-tech AAC

and also that even though high-tech devices and tablets can be life changing technology for many people, not everyone...

can use them

have access to them

want to use them

some examples of low-tech AAC:

core boards

flipbooks

picture/symbol cards

communication cards

alphabet/letter boards

pen and paper

some examples of no-tech AAC:

nodding/moving head

pointing

blinking or looking in certain directions

hand signals like a thumbs up

body language such as moving or kicking legs

other gestures like clapping, snapping, making non-word vocal sounds

here is a link about no-tech AAC (written in mostly plain language):

#actually autistic #actually semiverbal #aac user #aac #low tech acc #no tech aac #disability #autism #high tech aac #aac device #aac cards #semiverbal #nonverbal

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rosachae · 2 months ago

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second skin | daniela avanzini x reader

⁍ song: a little death- the neighbourhood ⁍ genre: venom AU! venom is a wingman ⁍ a/n: not my favorite thing i've ever posted, but oh well. i was due for a dani fic. ⁍ wc: 5.4k ⁍ warnings: mentions of injury, fighting. ⁍ synopsis:

daniela didn’t mean to bond with an alien symbiote. she definitely didn’t mean to fall for her friend either. but when a red symbiote attacks the lab and y/n's life is on the line, secrets unravel fast. daniela has to decide if love is worth the risk of being seen for what she really is.

the biosky labs tower loomed over the city like it knew it was important. sleek glass walls, endless silver panels, and sharp geometric angles that screamed “cutting edge science happens here, now please don’t touch anything.” it was the kind of place that had five different security checks just to use the bathroom.

daniela didn’t belong here. not really. she adjusted her press badge for the fourth time as she stepped into the front atrium, pretending not to feel the weight of a literal alien parasite stretching beneath her skin. her boots squeaked on the polished floor. she hated that. why was everything so shiny in science buildings?

she was here under the guise of journalism—technically true. her editor had sent her to get a word from one of biosky’s board members about their latest green tech initiative. something about biodegradable plastic that disintegrated in sunlight. it sounded great in theory. but daniela hadn’t even brought her recorder. or a pen. she wasn’t here for the story.

she was here for lara.

lara worked in r&d and was one of the very few people daniela trusted. she was also the only one—aside from a sleepy convenience store owner, megan, who definitely wasn’t paid enough to deal with parasite-related trauma—who knew about him.

venom.

the symbiote pulsed beneath her ribs, barely contained, like a cat stretching its claws.

“you are stalling,” venom said, voice curling in her head like smoke. “why are we standing in the lobby like a lost child? do you need a map? or a chaperone?”

“i’m blending in,” daniela muttered under her breath, eyes locked on a very intense sculpture made entirely of test tubes.

“you are loitering. you look suspicious. we should eat someone.”

“we’re not eating anyone in the lobby. i have clearance.”

“coward.”

she sighed and started toward the security desk, flashing her badge at a man who looked like he bench-pressed microscopes for fun. after a quick scan and a deadpan stare, she was waved through to the elevators. inside, the air smelled like sterile metal. scientists in white coats passed by, talking about protein strands and molecular something-or-others. one guy walked by holding a tablet and a cup of black coffee that smelled four weeks stale.

daniela kept her head down, following the path lara had texted her earlier. take the east wing, pass the nanotech lab, avoid eye contact with the cryogenics intern because he will talk about freezing mice for twenty minutes. she rounded a corner and slipped into a side hallway marked ‘authorized personnel only.’ a security camera blinked at her.

“friendly little guy,” she mumbled.

“we should wave.”

daniela rolled her eyes.

this part of the lab was quieter. less tour-friendly. the walls narrowed, and the overhead lights buzzed in a way that made her molars itch. it was here, just past a heavy fire door, that she found lara. half-buried in lab equipment and looking very done with the world.

lara glanced up, goggles on her forehead and a pipette in hand.

“you’re late,” she said.

“you’re lucky i came at all,” daniela replied, stepping into the room, the door clicking firmly shut behind her.

lara raised a brow. “did he say that or you?”

“that was me.”

“hm. he’s rubbing off on you. hello, venom.”

a black tendril mists up out of daniela’s back, waving shortly in faux greeting. despite his simple gesture, his voice slurs teasingly in daniela’s mind.

“she looks delicious today. are you certain i cannot eat her? i have been craving indian.”

daniela rolled her eyes again, possibly the hundredth time that week alone, staying silent as venoms tendril retreated back into her. she pulled a small container from the inside pocket of her jacket. it was sealed shut, but the faintest red glow pulsed from within.

lara’s expression shifted immediately, serious now. curious. “that’s from yesterday?”

daniela knew what she was talking about immediately. she could still feel the pang in her ribs when she inhaled, fresh off a beating the night before. she could still remember the sound of megan’s voice, shocked and concerned, when she dragged herself into the chinese girls convenience store with a black eye and a very annoyed (very moody) symbiote bitching about the world as he knew it. megan didn’t even need to ask what’d happened. she simply grabbed her first aid kit and helped daniela stitch up. nothing a good dab of makeup couldn’t hide.

and of course, she could still feel the way her heart dropped in her chest when y/n’s name filtered across the cracked screen of her phone. she was late. again. they were supposed to meet up with some of their other friends, lara included, for a birthday party of someone whose name daniela didn’t care to remember. truth be told, the latina had only agreed to go for her. y/n, who made her heart race and her palms clammy. y/n, who looked at her in a way that made her feel human– at least more than she did whenever she was reminded of the symbiote coiling through her like a disease she couldn’t rid.

daniela had long since gotten used to everything unusual. her life was flipped upside down the very minute she met venom, as he called himself, and he attached himself to the core of her being. he said they were ‘compatible’. that it would be ‘better this way’. sometimes, she couldn’t help but feel resentful. especially when y/n looked at her with those eyes, unaware of the monster she hid within.

daniela sighed. she’d already debriefed lara on what happened when she called her throughout the night, demanding answers on where she was, telling her how sad y/n was that she seemed to be avoiding her lately. daniela truly had every intention of showing up– she really did. except she couldn’t, not when she was attacked by a red-skinned symbiote she didn’t recognize, despite the primal familiarity that pronged through her like a knife. venom’s doing.

“yeah. the one downtown. he wasn’t like venom. he—i don’t know. didn’t talk. just looked at me like he wanted to melt my bones. he dropped this when we fought. i didn’t want to keep it on me.”

lara took the container carefully, like it might explode. “you did the right thing. i’ll analyze it. lowkey. don’t worry.”

daniela nodded, trying to shake off the memory of blood-red tendrils and that terrible silence.

“he was ugly,” venom said helpfully, his voice echoing through the silence of her mind. “and rude.”

before she could respond, voices echoed from the hallway. footsteps.

lara froze. “shit,” she whispered. “someone’s coming. probably y/n, she said she was coming by to check the cultures—”

the door opened, and there she was.

y/n stepped into the lab like a punch to the lungs. lab coat, clipboard. a soft smile that could melt steel beams. daniela stiffened immediately, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down her spine.

“oh—hey,” y/n said, blinking. “daniela?”

daniela opened her mouth, but nothing came out. for a moment she simply stood, buffering as she stared at the girl who consumed her thoughts on the daily– much to venom’s displeasure.

“oh my god,” venom groaned. “not this again.”

y/n tilted her head, eyes flicking between daniela and lara, then down to the mysterious container on the desk that was glowing faintly red. her brows lifted, but she didn’t say anything about it. not yet.

“i didn’t know you were stopping by,” she said, and god, her voice was soft. friendly. too casual, considering how daniela’s heart had decided to start jackhammering in her chest like it was trying to escape.

daniela cleared her throat, then immediately regretted it when it came out sounding like a dying engine.

“journalism,” she said, too quickly. “i’m here for journalism. official. press things.”

lara made a noise like she was choking on her own spit.

“right,” y/n said slowly, trying not to laugh. “because this is a very newsworthy hallway. here i was thinking you were going to apologize for ghosting me last night.”

despite the slight edge in y/n’s words, daniela could easily detect the light humor wedged between them. she wasn’t too upset, not really. not knowing what to say, the latina rubbed the nape of her neck.

“i’m sorry about that. some stuff came up…,” daniela mumbled, forcing a shrug. “besides, i’m here for work. some cutting edge stuff, you know? top secret. can’t print anything. very hush-hush.”

“you sound unhinged,” venom drawled. “get it over and done with, already. ask her to mate.”

daniela pointedly ignored venom when lara, mercifully, took over. “she was just dropping something off for me. we’re… collaborating.”

y/n looked at the container again. “on radioactive christmas ornaments?”

“biotech art,” daniela blurted.

lara turned away abruptly, coughing suspiciously into her sleeve.

y/n smiled, bright and blinding, and leaned against the edge of the table like she had no idea what she was doing to daniela’s already fragile composure.

“well, if you’re done with your… science drop-off, you should stick around for the tour. there’s a whole new wing they’re opening up today. i was just going to swing by and check it out.”

daniela blinked. did y/n just invite her to stay?

“she is inviting us,” venom confirmed, smug. “maybe we will stay. maybe we shall eat her?”

venom had lived inside of daniela long enough for her to know when he was joking, yet still she fought the urge of telling him to shut up. you’re not helping, she thought, knowing he would hear her loud and clear.

“uh—i mean, yeah,” daniela said, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets to hide the way they trembled. “i’ve got time.”

“great,” y/n said, already turning toward the door. “come on. i’ll show you the part of the lab where we keep the really dangerous stuff.”

“yes please,” venom purred.

lara shot daniela a look as she passed. it said you’re welcome in all caps and underlined three times.

daniela scowled at her but followed y/n out anyway.

they walked in silence for a beat, the bright lights above humming softly. the lab stretched around them, clean and cold, but strangely alive. screens flickered quietly in the background, machines whirred in glass compartments, and somewhere nearby, someone shouted about “rat genomes” and “ethical boundaries.”

daniela stayed a step behind y/n, watching the way she gestured when she talked, the way her hair bounced with each step. it was unbearable.

“just tell her,” venom said. “tell her you want to kiss her and then take her out for greasy tacos. it’s not hard.”

“shut up,” daniela hissed under her breath.

“sorry?” y/n looked over her shoulder.

daniela froze. “nothing. i was just, uh. admiring the… vent system.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “you’re weird.”

daniela bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “you’re just now realizing this?”

y/n laughed. and it echoed in daniela’s ribs like a song she hadn’t heard in years.

they kept walking, deeper into the facility, the air getting colder as the ‘tour’ moved into zones not quite meant for casual visitors. these halls weren’t all glass and chrome like the rest of the building. instead, they were quieter, older. wires snaked along the ceilings like veins. doors hissed softly when they closed behind them. daniela had the distinct feeling they weren’t really supposed to be here. yet, she couldn’t find it within herself to ask. afterall, y/n didn’t seem concerned. she tapped her badge against a side door, waving daniela in like it was nothing. of course, she followed.

every second daniela spent with y/n felt intoxicating, in it’s own simple way. they were friends. had been for years, ever since lara introduced them over a board meeting and hushed laughter. daniela had been enamored ever since. enamored by the sound of y/n’s laugh, the way her smile lit up a room, the way she managed to turn even her darkest days into something worth holding onto.

and of course, the way y/n looked at her when she admitted at last years new year party she had feelings for her. it lived rent free in her mind-- a record that played on repeat when she lied down at night alone. y/n had said she couldn’t enter the new year without telling her how she felt. daniela wanted so badly to kiss her then and there when the clock hit twelve. to tell y/n that she felt the same way, that she had ever since their eyes met. but, she didn’t.

for all the things daniela avanzini had grown to adore about y/n, through it all, she still couldn’t find it within herself to be honest.

she was dangerous, a fact that kept her up at night whenever she seldom allowed herself to think.

it tore her apart.

“this is where we keep some of the experimental containment,” y/n said, voice low in a way that sounded conspiratorial. daniela tore herself from her thoughts, focusing entirely on the girl. when y/n knows she has her attention, she continues. “technically, i’m not allowed to bring visitors in here, but technically, you’re a member of the press. so that cancels out, right?”

“definitely how rules work,” daniela replied.

y/n turned, walking backwards now. “so. what’s your angle?”

daniela blinked. “angle?”

“for the article. i know you’re not just here for lara.” she said it with a grin, playful, but there was something beneath it. interest. curiosity. maybe hope.

daniela floundered.

“this is your moment,” venom whispered. “say: ‘i came here for you.’ dramatic pause. raise an eyebrow. smolder.”

daniela stared dumbly.

.…smolder? she thought.

“you’re ruining this.”

“i’m just…” she exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “it’s been a weird couple weeks. i guess i needed to see someone i didn’t hate.”

y/n’s grin softened. “is that a compliment?”

“i don’t know. depends. do you still microwave fish in the break room?”

“that happened once.” y/n turned back around, but her ears were red.

daniela smiled to herself, just a little.

they entered a side lab that looked like the inside of a very expensive fridge. metal counters, thick glass tubes filled with murky liquid, something humming in the corner that daniela was pretty sure was alive.

“here,” y/n said, stepping aside. “this is where we keep some of the more unstable samples. things that didn’t bond properly. or bonded… wrong.”

daniela’s eyes moved toward a large containment chamber near the back wall. inside, a black smear floated in a thick solution, tendrils curling slowly like seaweed. it didn’t look like venom. it didn’t feel like him either.

she shivered.

y/n noticed. “you okay?”

“yeah,” daniela lied. “just—got a weird vibe. i’ve been writing too many horror articles lately.”

“maybe you’re just getting a sixth sense for drama,” y/n said, still watching her. “you always seem to show up right before things get weird.”

“maybe weird things just follow me,” daniela said, quieter this time.

“she doesn’t know the half of it,” venom added with a snort.

y/n laughed again, stepping closer. “well, for what it’s worth… i’m glad you’re here. you’re not as scary as you act.”

daniela blinked. the words settled somewhere deep in her chest, warm and dangerous. she opened her mouth to say something—anything—but she stopped when the lights flickered. just once. but it was enough.

y/n turned her head. “that’s not supposed to happen.”

the overheads buzzed again, flickering like a warning. the humming in the corner changed pitch. it was no longer soft. it was angry. from down the hall, something slammed. not a door, but something heavier.

daniela’s body tensed when not even a second later, the alarms started with a howl, shrill and piercing, bouncing off the sterile walls like a fire drill from the underworld. lights flashed red overhead, casting the lab in stuttering bursts of color—red, white, red, white—like a heartbeat in panic.

y/n spun toward the door. “what the hell—”

another crash. closer this time.

y/n reached for the wall intercom closest to her. “i-i don’t know what’s going on. i have to talk to central—”

a voice crackled through the lab speakers before she could touch it. not the system voice. not human.

“you have something of mine.”

the voice was wrong. low and sharp, like broken glass dragged across metal. it slithered out of the vents, from the walls, behind their ribs. daniela froze.

“was that…?” y/n didn’t finish the question. her eyes were on daniela now. questioning. uncertain.

daniela moved without thinking, stepping in front of y/n on instinct. her hand went into her coat, where venom curled just beneath her skin, already twitching with anticipation.

“stay behind me,” she said.

y/n looked at her like she was seeing her for the first time. “daniela, what’s going on?”

“he’s here,” venom growled, low and pleased. “our red friend. i can smell him. sharp. rotten. something’s wrong with him.”

the fire door at the end of the hallway slammed open, metal denting from the inside out like someone had punched straight through it. heavy footfalls echoed down the corridor.

venom murmured inside her. “he followed us. he knows. he wants it back.”

“daniela,” y/n said, more quietly this time. “what’s going on?”

she didn’t answer. couldn’t. not without unraveling everything.

and then he appeared. taller than daniela remembered from the day before. red and twisted, like someone had fed barbed wire to a blender. not just red—glowing, pulsing at the edges, veins running hot like lava through a human shape. not quite a man. not quite anything. the symbiote had taken over completely. its eyes that weren’t quite eyes locked onto daniela like it had been hungering for her.

“there you are,” the red symbiote said, grinning. “you took something that doesn’t belong to you.”

daniela spared a quick glance in y/n’s direction, swallowing when she notices the pure shock and horror engraved across her face. the exact kind of horror she lied awake at night worrying about, in the hypothetical situation y/n ever found out the truth. the last thing she ever wanted was for y/n to look at her, scared. like she was a moneter.

daniela shakes her head, forcing herself to sound composed. “wrong girl.”

the red one tilted his head, almost amused. “you reek of him. of venom.” his smile widened. “don’t play dumb. give it to me, or i take it from the corpse of your little scientist.”

daniela hesitated. just a beat.

“decide,” venom snarled in her skull. “you can’t keep pretending. you’ll lose her.”

daniela grit her teeth. she didn’t want y/n to know. not like this. not with blood and glass and monsters in the walls.

but it didn’t matter.

daniela felt venom rise immediately, slithering under her skin, begging to be let out. not just asking. demanding.

“we need to run,” y/n said, backing up.

“no,” daniela said. “we can’t let him near the rest of the building.”

“what are you talking about? you don’t have a—”

the red thing moved.

fast.

a blur of red tendrils and inhuman muscle, tearing through the hallway like a beast. it slammed a desk out of the way like it was made of cardboard.

y/n grabbed daniela’s arm. “we have to go, now!”

daniela hesitated, just for the briefest of seconds. and then she moved.

“let me out.”

she didn’t answer. she didn’t have to.

black surged up her throat, over her face, coating her arms in glossy armor and claws. her vision sharpened, blood roaring in her ears. she was in limbo. not quite herself, but also not quite venom.

y/n screamed. not in terror—more like complete shock.

venom turned and grabbed her gently, claws retracting just enough, and launched both of them through an adjacent wall, crashing through a side corridor just as the red thing smashed into the room behind them. the floor buckled. glass shattered. something exploded in the distance. daniela ran, half-carrying y/n, venom’s strength barely strained. y/n clung to her with both arms, eyes wide, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to ask something but couldn’t find a single word. they reached the elevator lobby, huge and open and full of windows.

and of course, the worst possible place to be.

behind them, the red symbiote burst through the wall like a monster out of a nightmare.

“no elevators,” venom said. “he’ll crush us before the doors even close.”

“stairs,” daniela snapped, pivoting hard.

but they were too late.

the red thing was already there, tendrils slamming into the ceiling above them, knocking loose steel beams and cables. one snapped, and then another. the floor near the stairwell cracked, tiles tumbling into the yawning black of the empty elevator shaft. daniela shoved y/n toward the edge to dodge a swing just a little too hard. immediately, she regrets it when y/n’s heels hit the crumbling floor. it gave way.

“no—!”

she slipped, and she fell. y/n didn’t have enough time to gather her footing before her body was tripping back in to the empty elevator shaft, a height that would certainly kill her on impact. her eyes met daniela’s for the briefest of seconds.

daniela didn’t think. she let venom take over. completely. black tendrils lashed out like lightning, diving into the shaft. it all happened in a breath.

one second, y/n was falling. the next, she was dangling midair, suspended by something alien, staring up at venom. eight feet tall. snarling. glistening. unmistakable.

the creature reeled her back in like a fish on a line, gently depositing her to the floor. claws curled around her shoulders to steady her.

“are you hurt?” it asked, voice thick and dual-toned, daniela layered beneath the monster.

y/n blinked up at it. “…daniela?”

venom’s eyes narrowed. then softened, just a little.

“surprise,” daniela said through venom’s mouth.

y/n stared up at her—at venom, at daniela—with something unreadable in her eyes. not fear. not exactly. more like the world had just cracked in half and she was still waiting to see how far it would split.

neither daniela nor venom had the chance to say more before the red symbiote came crashing down the elevator shaft. venom immediately sprung into action. tugging y/n into an empty floor, the air tuned impossibly colder. the red symbiotes' movements were cold and fluid when he followed after them, like he knew he had time. like he enjoyed the anticipation. his body shimmered, pulsing with some internal fire. red tendrils dragged across the walls like claws on chalk.

“i should’ve known,” he purred. “venom always did have a soft spot. he likes the pretty ones.”

venom growled, deep and primal, and it echoed from every surface.

the red symbiote didn’t wait. he launched forward, a snarl ripping out of him, arms splitting into barbed whips of glowing red. venom met him halfway, their bodies colliding with a sound like metal being torn in half. they crashed into a far wall. stone cracked, glass burst, a light fixture dropped from the ceiling. daniela twisted under venom’s skin, trying to keep control, trying to aim the fury. the red one lashed out, slicing across her ribs with a jagged blade-arm. venom howled.

venom surged upward, slamming a fist into the red one’s jaw, then ducked under a retaliating swing and drove both claws into his side. red shrieked—inhuman and sharp—and retaliated with a burst of flame-like tendrils that seared across the lab floor.

y/n ducked behind a desk, eyes wide, watching the monsters tear each other apart in the glow of flickering red lights. she wasn’t scared. not really. just stunned. processing.

but when she looked at venom, at daniela, something else bloomed in her chest. recognition. it was her. the way she moved. protected her. even the way she swore under her breath as the red one got in another hit.

still daniela.

venom got the upper hand for a moment, grabbing the red symbiote by the throat and slamming him into the concrete hard enough to make the walls rattle.

“you’re not taking it,” venom snarled.

the red one laughed through cracked teeth. “you think i care about the girl? or you? i want what you stole. the fragment. give it to me.”

daniela faltered for a beat. the artifact. the glowing red sample. lara still had it—hopefully locked away somewhere deeper in the lab. this whole attack… it was never about her. not really.

venom hesitated. just a second. the red one used it to his advantage. a tendril speared forward, aimed not at venom, but at y/n. daniela didn’t think. she threw herself in front of it. the impact sent her crashing into a column, plaster and sparks exploding around her.venom roared in pain.

“dani!”

daniela hit the ground hard, venom glitching and rippling around her like a damaged projection. her vision swam, but she doesn’t miss the way y/n raced over. she dropped to her knees beside her.

“what the hell is this? how long have you—”

“not now,” daniela groaned, blood in her mouth.

the red one stalked forward. venom twitched, trying to stand, but the hit had been brutal.

y/n looked up at the monster barreling toward them. with a newfound sense of confidence, she did the only thing she could. she grabbed a fallen metal pipe and hurled it at the red symbiote’s face.

it bounced off with a sad little clang.

he paused, a look of mild offense striking his grotesque face.

“seriously?” he muttered.

but it was enough.

the red one surged forward again, limbs splintering into hooked blades and writhing spears. he was a storm of red fury, blind and grinning, hammering toward them with all the heat of something barely held together by rage.

but daniela had already risen.

venom rippled over her like liquid shadow, scars mending mid-motion, claws curling longer, sharper. black tendrils writhed along her spine, ready, hungry. there was no hesitation now. no hiding. no pretending.

only her.

“you want it?” she rasped, voice layered and low, venom’s timbre wrapping around hers like thunder. “come and get it.”

she launched.

they collided midair, red and black blurring together in a screech of tearing metal and flesh. daniela let go of restraint. venom knew how to twist, how to hurt, and daniela guided it with fury like a blade.

the red symbiote struck hard, hammering her into a beam. daniela rebounded, claws dragging sparks off the wall as she swung low, raking open his side.

“you’re wasting your breath,” he snarled. “the fragment’s mine.”

venom lunged, wrapping both arms around the red one’s torso, and bit down.

the scream that tore out of the red symbiote was inhuman, rattling the air and shaking the glass.

his form flickered—unstable now, wounded, tendrils flailing. daniela twisted, slamming him through a row of reinforced lab tables. the metal bent like foil.

“dani!” y/n’s voice came from the side, urgent. “his core—bottom left! it’s destabilizing!”

daniela saw it then—a pulsing red glow beneath the symbiote’s chest. flickering, uneven.

she didn’t ask how y/n knew. she just moved.

venom surged up her arms, curling into a blade. she dropped, twisted beneath the red one’s next swing, and drove the blade up into the core.

there was silence, then a sound like pressure releasing—a deep whoomph, followed by a stuttering crackle of light. the red one staggered, glitching, body tearing apart from the inside out.

“no—no—NO—”

he clawed toward her, toward y/n, toward anything. but venom dragged him back. black tendrils crushed inward. one final twist. one last roar.

the red symbiote collapsed with a shriek and a shudder, its body dissolving into steaming sludge that hissed across the tile.

it was over.

daniela stood, swaying slightly. her breathing was ragged, skin streaked with ash and blood. the last of venom curled back beneath her skin, black retreating like ink down a drain.

and then she collapsed to her knees.

“daniela!” y/n was already moving, sliding across broken glass and debris to catch her. “hey—hey, stay with me—”

but her eyes were closed. still breathing. still there. just… barely. the room went quiet.

until something moved.

a ripple across daniela’s shoulder. black. liquid. alive. venom reemerged—not the full monstrous form, but a slick tendril that uncoiled upward, shifting until it formed a rounded head, eyeless and wet with that reflective sheen. small. almost calm.

y/n froze.

the tendril tilted, then spoke.

“she will be fine,” venom said, voice low and rattling. “we have taken worse hits.”

y/n swallowed. “you… you can talk without her?”

“we prefer her,” venom said, almost wistfully. “she is… fun. angry. but warm.”

y/n stared. “she never told me. about you.”

venom shifted, curling gently around daniela’s shoulder like a shawl. protective. oddly tender.

“she didn’t want you to run.”

y/n blinked. “what?”

“you are the reason she holds back. why she is scared. she believes she is a monster.”

the silence between them stretched long and deep.

“but you’re not,” y/n whispered.

venom moved again, this time toward her. not threatening. just… curious. his voice dropped lower.

“you smell like her heart.”

y/n let out a breath. “that’s either very sweet or very creepy.”

a pause. then, unexpectedly, a snort.

“she would say the same.”

y/n almost smiled.

“will she be okay?”

venom retracted a little, folding back down.

“she is waking.”

and just like that, the black melted away again. daniela stirred, a long groan tearing from her. her eyes fluttered open and the first thing she saw was y/n, sitting right in front of her, hair a mess, lab coat scorched, one scraped knee, and… smiling.

“hey,” y/n said softly. “nice of you to rejoin us.”

daniela winced. “you’re not screaming.”

“not yet.”

a beat.

“venom said i smell like your heart,” y/n added casually.

daniela’s eyes widened.

“oh my god—”

“don’t worry. he’s kind of sweet. in a nightmare slug kind of way.”

the lab was still screaming. alarms howled overhead in stuttering bursts. red lights strobed across shattered glass and scorched tile. from the stairwell, heavy footsteps echoed—boots slamming up the metal steps, guards or scientists or maybe cleanup crews, all just a breath too late.

but in the center of it all, daniela only saw y/n.

her lip was split. her side throbbed. something was probably fractured.and yet, she couldn’t help but frown.

“are you... are you scared of me?” she asked, voice low, almost too quiet to hear beneath the sirens.

y/n looked at her like that was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.

“you caught me out of mid-air before i became elevator paste and then took down a rage-possessed lava monster,” she said. “so no. i’m not scared.”

daniela blinked.

y/n leaned closer. “maybe a little mad you didn’t tell me.”

“i didn’t want you to look at me like—like this.”

“well, tough luck.” her voice softened. “because this is how i look at you.”

daniela’s breath hitched when y/n reached out slowly, still cautious, even now. her fingers brushing against daniela’s jaw, hesitant like a question. and then she kissed her.

it wasn’t soft. it was tired, and cracked, and tasted like smoke and adrenaline and blood—but it was real. daniela’s hands came up into y/n’s hair, pulling her closer like she didn’t care who saw, like she didn’t care if the building collapsed around them. y/n’s fingers curled against her waist, grounding her in the middle of the wreckage.

the footsteps were getting louder. someone was shouting orders. probably close. daniela pulled back just enough to breathe.

y/n’s forehead pressed to hers. “what now?”

behind her eyes, venom stirred. “they will have questions. annoying ones.”

daniela glanced at the ruined elevator, then back to y/n. “lara’s gonna kill me for not waiting.”

“she can wait.” venom’s voice was smug. “take the girl.”

black tendrils curled from beneath daniela’s feet. the world blurred. she grabbed y/n’s hand. didn’t ask.

“hold on,” she whispered.

and then they were gone—swept away through the broken ceiling like smoke, like a shadow vanishing into the night. alarms still blared behind them, questions still screamed in the stairwell. but none of that mattered now. for now, all that mattered was y/n.

and maybe—just maybe—it was time to give honesty a try.

venom purred somewhere beneath her skin.

“finally.”

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vikuo-kuma · 3 months ago

Text

“The Best of the Best”

—Teacher assistant! Hero! Reader x Various! invincible

Warning?: No use of Y/N but might use Reader from time to time(will try), obviously curse words, and maybe a description of some sort of gore? Might be OP reader(sorry for those who like character development)

Prologue

———————

Chapter 1

“101..”

“102..”

“103..”

“104…”

“And… 105! A new record, lil tech!”

A feminine voice called out as they walked out holding onto a clipboard. The woman with black and blue hair placed her clipboard down on the bench beside [Reader], grabbing the towel and water bottle from the exact bench.

“Thank you, and also, when did you come up with that stupid ass nickname?”, their face twitched, they felt belittled after hearing the sound of what the woman had called them. “Well I thought it was a cute nickname…”, the black and blue haired woman mumbled, twiddling her fingers.

“Just don’t call me that out in public, Lena”, they spoke like they were disappointed as they face palmed their face.

“Yay!”, Lena once again sparked with joy. “Oh that’s beside the point, don’t you have to go to work today?”, checking her clipboard while tapping on it with a blue pen.

“Shit! I fucking forgot! Thanks again Lena!”, they completely rushed out, figuring that they’ll just change while running towards the elementary school.

Lena just looked at the door where [Reader] had left through. “That stupid sibling of mine..”, with an awkward grin, Lena turned back to work.

The computer’s light gleamed against Lena’s glasses. Lena’s grin turned into a frown.

——————

“Any other reports of this ‘mysterious’ hero”, Cecil’s anger seems to increase more and more after seeing a large pile of paper reports of this tech savvy hero. “This is the last one, sir. The first ever report on this hero”, Donald placed the paper on the top of the stack before returning to Cecil’s side.

“How the FUCK, did this hero go unnoticed by the by me?”, Cecil’s eye twitched, scanning through each of the pages of each report.

Donald didn’t answer the question, just staring at Cecil going off about this specific hero.

“It’s said that nobody had ever died upon their arrival”, Donald recalled from his memories, “no injured person either”.

“Are they intentionally trying to make us sound unreliable?!”

Before Donald could reply, the heroes walked in one by one. Each in their costumes.

They stopped talking once they see the look on Cecil’s face. It wasn’t a friendly one. “What happened Cecil? You usually call us when there’s an emergency like for an alien invasion”, Invincible crossed his arms, waiting for an answer from Cecil. Invincible wanted answers.

“Do any of you know who this person is?”, Cecil completely ignored Mark’s question, showing a clip of the recent news.

It was the same figure Mark had seen on the TV.

Face covered, hair covered, with the tech related suit. That was the hero alright. Nobody, however, knew who was behind that suit and mask. “No? Who the fuck is that?”, Rex pointed towards the screen with utter confusion.

Donald sat in the background, looking through each and every single report as well as the report numbers.

“A person who seems to do YOUR job better than you ever could, you nitwits!”, slamming the desk to reveal the reports of this mysterious figure digitally on the screen. The list went on and on, each scene differs from the others.

But there was one important detail that seemed to be constantly circled.

no injuries, NO DEATHS.

———— （´-`）.｡oO

“Achoo!”, a sneeze came from their nose.

“Teacher, are you ok? You seem to be sneezing— A —lot”, Oliver looked towards his tutor with concern, exaggerating the “a” in “a lot”. He handed you a box of tissues just in case. “Thanks, Oliver”, blowing your nose into a tissue.

“I swear I was fine when I came to your house”, you spoke after wiping your nose clean. You pointed towards an english question on the sheet of paper.

You had resumed your teaching with Oliver in his house that was until you got a ringing in your ear.

“What—”,

“I’ve gotta go, we’ll end our lesson here”, You quickly stood— at an inhumane speed— and dashed out of the house, leaving Oliver clueless about his teacher’s strange life.

———————— :(；ﾞﾟ'ωﾟ'):

A/N: Caffeine hate to see me coming. Also I literally have ideas pumping out of me.

#x reader #invincible x reader #invincible #mark grayson #oliver grayson #cecil stedman #atom eve #rex splode #shrink rae

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sukuna-ryo · 7 months ago

Text

Jjk Men College Au

Headcannons

Nanami Kento

Finance Major

Blonde neatly styled hair, sharp cheekbones, thin lips, light brown eyes, glasses pushed up the nose bridge, dark circles, well-groomed and tidy, looks more professional than the professor, you thought he was a professor when you first saw him, calm and composed, stoic, mature, responsible and reliable, emotionally intelligent, good with people, helpful, no-nonsense-adult attitude, pragmatic, cynical, intelligent, tactical, tech-savvy.

Early morning lectures, blue dress shirts, khaki trousers, leopard print ties, networking, finance club, seminars, workshops, turns in assignments before due date, stockbroker internships, libraries, desk lamps, late night study sessions, midnight snacks, ink pens, vintage cars, leather seats, cracking knuckles, strained shoulder muscles, working out, not compromising on physical health despite having a demanding major, does jujutsu as hobby.

College-personal life balance, strength of character, disciplined, organized, heartthrob (unaware), husband material, would probably fall for someone just as diligent as him.

Ryomen Sukuna

Kinesiology Major

Red hair, fiery personality, strength, endurance, gym, MMA fighter, training, late night MMA matches, muscles, tattoos, tattoo artist best friend, frat parties, alcohol, girls, messy sex life, doesn’t do relationships, toxic, fans and fan clubs, future MMA champion, media coverage, athletic, strong-headed, willpower, intelligent, calculative, cunning, missing lectures, top ranker despite not studying much, arrogant, crazy, borderline criminal, don’t try to date him pls.

Leather jackets, ripped jeans, cologne, smirk, loud, reckless, always on the move, fights, wins, clubs, stays up late, doesn’t care, bad boy persona, high status, no commitments, love for chaos. Tension in the air when he enters, always the center of attention, fans everywhere, no time for weakness, doesn’t need to try.

Tattoo sleeve, arms covered, history of fights, scars, reputation, strength, untouchable, doesn’t play by rules, barely attends class, still aces it. Smirks, keeps moving, doesn’t stop. Drinks, casual, no relationships, cold heart. Only more battles ahead, all eyes on him, unpredictable, dangerous, charming.

Geto Suguru

Philosophy Major

Long black hair, weird side bangs, manbun, hidden tattoos, sharp dresser, classic casual but always expensive, calm and composed, mysterious yet friendly to those who matter.

Religious studies, top student, always reading something deep, debates with professors over lunch, having lunch with professors, doing pottery in his free time, sharp opinions, loud thoughts, a little racist, has a vision for an ideal society, probably loves Pythagoras and his cult, wishes to have something similar, always scribbling down ideas in random places, likes to keep things classy but low-key, sharp, calculating, deeply invested in his beliefs.

Volunteers at orphanages, good with children, art hobbies, loves to talk about philosophy, sometimes found debating late at night in the library, always in deep thought, a bit of a perfectionist, not easily impressed by others, enjoys challenging people intellectually, likes to put effort into his appearance, always carrying books on ethics, metaphysics, and society.

Popular amongst women, Gojo’s best friend, your grandma would probably like him, friendly but keeps a bit of distance, doesn’t open up easily but will be there for you when needed, composed around strangers, warm to those he’s close to, respects loyalty, his ideal partner would be someone with similar intelligence and values.

Gojo Satoru

Business major

6'4, blue eyes, trust fund guy, loud, jolly, eccentric, talented, arrogant, sarcastic, wants to make friends but misunderstood by those around him, comes off as off-putting, rich family, only heir, prodigy, diamond spoon kid, first in everything, Geto's best friend.

Gets bullied because of his white hair, shades, blindfolds, people think he has some weird kink, has fangirls regardless, popular loner, sharp dresser, stands out, hates attention, smirk always in place, makes people uncomfortable with his confidence, carefree but secretly lonely, sharp-tongued, cracks jokes all the time.

Easily gets on people's bad side, works to keep up his image, loves challenging authority, doesn't care about consequences, fiercely protective of his friends, holds grudges, always first to show up, leaves last, high-profile business role in his future, a bit of mystery that draws people in, keeps everyone at arm's length.

Wants to be understood, still pushes people away, walks into a room and demands attention, but doesn’t say a word, people notice him immediately, no one dares challenge him, but it’s not for lack of trying, takes classes seriously, skips boring ones, coffee in hand, shades indoors, professors secretly like him, students admire or fear him.

Doesn’t attend study groups, pulls through with perfect grades, natural intelligence, picks up info quickly, a bit of a mystery, high-profile events, networking, parties, center of attention at social gatherings, random comments that leave people laughing or wondering, doesn’t care about others, secretly craves connection but too prideful to ask for it.

---

Do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my content.

Likes, reblogs, and feedback is appreciated <3

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milkypompon · 1 year ago

Text

The Ruse Ch. 1

pairing: Nathan Bateman x CompanyRival!Reader

summary: Nathan wants to buy out your father's business, but the latter is skeptical of closing the deal with the BlueBook owner. The solution? He's going to seduce you.

content: 18+ mdni, thoughts about sex and kinks, enemies to luvrs

wc: 2.4k

a/n: As requested by a wonderful anon!! THANK YOU, I've been on a bald, billionare kick

beta read by the amazing and adorable... @lovable-liar

|| Next >

Ex Machina || Main Masterlist

“Look, you provided tech parts to BlueBook for almost a decade. Then, you up and left to start making phones, tablets, etcetera with my ideas. And I get that it’s a family-run business. It’s adorable, really.” Nathan sighs and clicks his pen, “But I have to say, in a lack of better terms, you’re running an absolute shitshow.”

Your father leans back on the swivel chair, only one of the twelve occupied because Nathan was pacing around the room, and the other board members weren’t privy to the conversation.

He was fuming, but he knew that Nathan was right.

The said shitshow was a repeated cycle — inevitable karma, if you will — that Nathan Bateman, a genius and billionaire, and your father, a now sorry excuse of an entrepreneur, experienced it to the highest degree.

But truthfully, the latter was hit the hardest.

In the past year, your father’s employees designed and crafted the high-end electronics at NovaTech. Over time, they used it as a stepping stone to build their own companies from the ground up, evolving into something worthy of praise.

He couldn’t keep up with the competition, especially now with the brightest minds walking out.

“I’m doing you a favor by buying you out instead of watching you sink into bankruptcy.” Nathan continues, “Call it an act of a good Samaritan. Or, if you’re not into the hippie bullshit, just see it as me taking back what’s mine.”

Your father frowns. “I bet you’ve been bribing my employees to start working for you, eh?” He throws his hands up in frustration, struggling to find the right words. “It’s all part of a stupid, elaborate plan to drive me out of business!”

Nathan drops the pen, it clatters onto the glass table. He says in a low, steady voice, “Do you seriously think I have time to fuck around?”

He grumbles a “no” and swipes the buy-sell agreement from the manila folder.

“Look at you! Finally coming to your senses.” Nathan opens his arms, an agreeable and friendly stance, though it was anything but that.

“I’m just reading over it again, Bateman. Just making sure you’re not ripping me off.”

“God, it feels like I’m trying to get divorce papers signed.” He tucks the document back into the folder. “Think about it, man. You could throw a retirement party with the greens and have more than enough to tan your ass in Bora Bora.”

—

The next night was the BlueBook Ball, Nathan has a way with words, but it’s a glorified event for rubbing elbows, sickening niceties, and serving tooth-achingly sweet mixed drinks for the wives of big names in the tech field.

Nathan could play the nice guy for only so long.

He’d been breathing down his own neck to get the documents signed. It was a one-way ticket to the clientele who turned him down because of their loyalty to your father.

In hindsight, he should’ve dealt with the meeting the morning after the gathering while your father was hungover and loose-lipped, ready to nod along with his plan for the buyout.

A perfect yesman.

Nathan was a scientist first and foremost.

Hypothetically, he knew it could’ve worked.

And he was a businessman second.

Technically, he knew others played just as dirty.

Nathan ran a hand down his beard and reminded himself, Just one more night of persuading him and I’ll back down from NovaTech.

Can’t keep on wasting my time.

–

You’re accompanying your father tonight. He stated that it was a gateway to understanding the social aspect of running a business.

Deep down, you knew it was a sloppy attempt to get you out of your studio and away from tinkering at the new prototypes.

You begrudgingly agreed because at least it was a chance to abuse the open bar and cling to the side as a wallflower after snagging a few drinks.

But there was the issue of the black-tie attire. In other words, slipping on a tight dress paired with red-bottom stilettos could cause a twisted ankle if you took the wrong step.

Or danced too hard.

Surely, Nathan Bateman wasn’t the type to throw it back and party like that, right?

You shake your head, not in a professional setting.

A faint buzz from the intercom beside your bed draws you out of the bathroom.

“Hey, sweetie! The helicopter’s here to pick us up.” Your father reminds you.

You check the time on your phone and frown slightly, then press the button on the intercom to reply. “Dad, you said we weren’t leaving for another hour.”

Another buzz.

“I’m sure they can send another one for you when you’re ready.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll see you there.”

–

The helicopter ride wasn’t your first, given your father’s affinity for buying new and shiny things for you in hopes of proving that his late hours at the office during your childhood were all worth it—a weak compensation for being raised by maids and butlers.

The green land and the snow-capped mountains stretching on for miles was a distraction from the thought of showing up without the person who was supposed to be your guide for the night.

Everyone would be nameless for the time being or blurry faces you’d soon forget.

You pull the aviation headset over your ears, a thought dawning over you.

You don’t even know what the host looks like.

He was surely an enigma, sitting on a fat pile of money and keeping his head down to work on god-knows-what in a facility you were headed to located in the middle of buttfuck Alaska.

Photographers rarely shot photos of him due to his constant refusal to participate in panels, and overall, there were few published sightings of him on the mainland.

Even then, it was like he took down the photos.

Perks of being one of the wealthiest men alive, you suppose—a false sense of privacy.

The landing, as gentle as it could be from a helicopter, didn’t help to settle the churning at the pit of your stomach.

A voice from the earpiece cracked to life, “Follow the path. You’ll know when you’re there.”

Before you could ask about the lack of people in sight or even the distant sound of music, the pilot answered your question.

You carefully step out, noticing the stupidly rolled-out red carpet on top of plants and fallen branches. The least he could've done for someone with more money than he could spend was pave a sidewalk.

This must be a sick metaphor. Struggling to walk in nature to find a haven built by a human.

Your ears perk up after about fifteen minutes of walking at the muffled sounds of talking. There were finally signs of life apart from trees and birds.

No way could you keep walking the last stretch without a break, especially with your calves on fire. All you needed was a hard drink, a bench to sit on, and maybe even a bed for a quick nap.

The tree stump nearby was the best you could do for now. You veer off the velvet path before your right heel sinks into a mud puddle.

“When I see that man…” you mumble under your breath. Then you were quickly reminded that you wouldn’t recognize him even if he were in front of you.

There was no point in stopping now; you were late, and now, your right shoe was dirty.

You trudge on for a few minutes. Standing before you was a wooden facility with glass panels reflecting the foliage. If you looked the right way, it almost blended in, but there were far too many edges and faces.

A little too perfect.

Squinting your eyes at the windows inside, you find the guests milling about, politely throwing their heads back to unfunny jokes. A few men were clean-shaven, while others had a trimmed beard. They all had their shoulders rolled back with a champagne flute in hand.

Any of them could be Nathan Bateman.

Maybe he was close to being six feet under, white-haired with a few loose screws in his head.

How else was it possible to survive in a place like this?

You surely wouldn’t.

You unclasp your clutch to find your phone and shoot a text.

Dad, where are you??

The message flickered green…

No cell service

He was supposed to dumb down the guests for you tonight, teaching you the whosits and whatsits. But that was the least of your problems.

You’re sure that you’re going to be murdered without a witness as the sunset dips below the horizon. The branches cast shadows against the neighboring trees, a disturbing illusion of a dismembered figure.

You could already imagine the headlines.

Daughter of NovaTech Gone Missing in Buttfuck Nowhere Alaska!

There was a light chuckle behind you, making you flinch. “Are you lost? There should be a map for a place like this, huh?”

You flick your head back quickly, and a stocky man with a piercing gaze set behind a pair of glasses stares back at you. But his eyes weren’t any less pointed, even with the obstruction. It was as if he knew things you didn’t, keeping the cards close to his chest. Or more like he knew something about yourself that you were only beginning to grasp.

For an audience like this one, he was dressed plainly. A crisp white shirt, taut across his chest, paired with black slacks. You had to give it to him for having the guts to throw the required attire out the window.

Maybe you could get along with this guy.

A non-conformist.

It’s refreshing.

You offer him a smile. “Yeah, this asshole had us walk what felt like a mile to get here.”

Oh my fucking god… She doesn’t know who I am. The corner of Nathan’s lip twitches up by a degree.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I stripped halfway through the walk.” He plays along with a smirk.

“Explains the whole lax look?”

Nathan pauses for a moment.

“... Sure. And you?” He cocks his head toward your muddy high heel tucked behind your other one in an attempt to hide it, a cute curtsy, almost. “Is that horse shit?”

“God, I hope not.” You grimace and look down.

Nathan could count on one hand the amount of people that didn’t see him as a potential business partner or an escape during nightly escapades.

He mentally shakes his head. Maybe having contact with an actual human being was getting to him. Besides, he has to set things straight…

He takes a few careful steps near you as if placating you. When your eyes meet his again, and you don’t pull away, he places his hand on the small of your back.

You could feel the heat through your thin, silk dress.

“C’mon, I’ve been here a handful of times. Let’s find you a bathroom.”

“And a map while you’re at it.”

He grins. “Like little fold-up ones you find at amusement parks?”

“It’s the only thing that would work around here. God forbid there’s cell service here or something.”

“Dude who owns this place must be an asshole to cut it off like that.”

“Right?!” You bob your head alongside him, grateful to have someone who didn’t feed into the billionaire's bullshittery.

–

You hate to admit it, but the estate was straight out of Architectural Digest.

Nathan steers you toward another building. It was a simple square, detached from the main facility, but still held the similar reflective panels, this time on all sides.

“What’s this?” you prod, dodging a patch of dirt, “A fancy portapotty?”

He fishes out a slim silver card from his back pocket.

“Is that what I think it is?”

How this man you just met knew the way around the place was beyond you, but you’d do anything at this point to remove the cakey, stickiness of the mud clinging to you.

“Yeah, a keycard. Every main guest gets one, and you haven’t?”

“No, I’m just my father’s plus one tonight, so I’m technically not listed.”

You don’t have to tell him.

Nathan knows exactly who you are.

In his defense, he greenlit the guests tonight by running a background check. He even went the extra mile by requiring them to walk through a metal detector. Especially after the experimental happenings of the Turing test, he wasn’t going to cast a blind eye to an android coming in to hack at him again.

Or worse, a jealous competitor.

And that’s exactly what you are.

Well, not you, necessarily.

But your father, so by extension, you were a part of whatever plan your father was stirring up. Or at least that’s what Nathan garnered.

Nathan swore to himself that he wouldn’t act like a petty teenager. But he needs a safeguard to protect his company and decrease the chances of his clients or sponsors from pulling out after they found out about one of his androids going rogue.

His ego was a liability. Sure enough, to be the cause of his death.

But it also brought him this far, along with his craftiness.

He’ll agree with a quip or two about your annoyance with the BlueBook owner, so you’ll lower your guard. Then boom, bam, thank you, ma’am — dial-up his sweet talk and ease in, persuading you that Nathan fucking Bateman is a trustworthy guy.

You’ll put in a good word for him to your father.

“You rarely go to these things, huh?” He tilts his head.

“Is it that obvious? I usually stay in my studio, drafting up concepts.”

“You’re a designer,” he observes.

“Something like that.” You shake your head. “But if my dad had a hand deeper into my life, I’d call the shots in NovaTech later down the line instead of playing with paint and wires, or at least that’s what he says.”

And there it was.

“A tortured artist and daddy’s girl,” he takes note.

“Well, how about you? I’m sure you got a sob story of the century to give yourself a buzzcut,” you tease back.

“Smartass.” Nathan presses the keycard against a wall. There was no indication of a slot to insert itself in or tap on—a sleek design hidden from plain view.

The soft click of the door unlocking brings his attention back to you. “Go ahead, I’ll wait out here. Gotta have you looking your best when we get in there.”

A simple ruse from yours truly.

pt. 2 coming soon (lmk if you'd like to be tagged!)

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fluff #ex machina x reader #ex machina fluff #ex machina smut

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mystic-rox · 9 days ago

Text

Glass Between Us

Master List

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Arden Morvant (OC)

Warnings: kinda tame chapter, Arden slightly being testy, the team absolutely does not trust him.

Word Count: 1.5k

4. Thresholds

The Bureau smelled different today. It always carried a sterile cocktail of paper, burnt coffee, and just a hint of sweat-stained polyester, but today there was something else riding beneath it. Something more aware. Taut. Like a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap if you so much as breathed wrong.

Arden Morvant stood at the sliding entrance, visitor badge clipped to his pocket, a security escort at his back.

He didn’t fidget. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t smile. Not until he caught Aaron’s eye across the bullpen, and even then, it was more taunting than friendly.

“Here we go,” Morgan muttered from behind his desk, dropping his file a little too loudly.

JJ looked up from her keyboard, the tension in her jaw visible. “He’s really here?”

“He shouldn’t be,” Prentiss answered coldly, her tone razor-thin. “I don’t care what kind of deal he cut, there’s a reason we put monsters behind glass. We don’t invite them in.”

Reid was silent. His pen tapped once, then again, before stilling. “He’s not a monster,” he said, softly. “Not exactly.”

Morgan raised a brow. “And that’s comforting, how?”

“I’ve read his files. His notes are…” Reid hesitated, brow furrowing like it pained him to admit it, “exceptional. Terrifying. But exceptional.”

JJ shifted in her seat. “That’s not the same as trust, Spence.”

“I know.” He glanced at Hotch’s office, already sensing the walls closing in. “I just think if he really wanted to disappear, we never would’ve known he existed.”

“Great,” Morgan muttered. “So now we have a self-aware sociopath on our hands. Perfect.”

Aaron Hotchner watched it all from his office. The team below simmered with tension, barely disguised behind professional focus. But he didn’t blame them.

This wasn’t protocol. This was barely strategy. This wasn’t like him, had it been anyone else, anyone in the world except Arden, they’d be locked away.

He adjusted his cuffs again. The cotton caught slightly on the scar above his wrist, the one Arden had bandaged once in high school after Aaron had sliced himself climbing the fence near the canal. He remembered the feel of Arden’s breath on his skin, the silence between them thick as the sky before a storm. He looked down into the bullpen. Arden was standing still. Too still. Like he was waiting. Hotch exhaled through his nose and descended from his office. When he reached the main floor, Arden turned with almost casual grace. “You wore the red tie,” he said softly. “Still my favorite on you.”

Aaron’s voice was ironclad. “I didn’t wear it for you. Follow me.”

Arden’s smile didn’t falter. “Yes, sir.” He was installed in the back conference room like a living weapon under glass. Four agents were assigned in shifts to keep eyes on him at all times, and the techs had already calibrated the surveillance feed directly to Garcia’s monitors.

“She has access to everything,” Aaron told him. “Every word you say. Every expression you make.”

Arden had just nodded. “Good. I like her. She’s like sunlight through a kaleidoscope. Pretty, fragmented, and painfully honest when you twist it just right.” That wasn’t comforting.

“Your living quarters are being monitored, video and audio. Drug tests daily. You’re not to leave the premises without an escort. You will not handle evidence. You will not carry a weapon. One misstep, and it’s over.”

“I understand,” Arden said. “And if I don’t misstep?” Aaron didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

The team sat in briefing, but the chairs felt smaller. More uncomfortable. Arden’s presence infected everything, even with him behind glass.

“Let’s not pretend we’re okay with this,” Emily said. “He’s in our house, Hotch.”

“I didn’t make this decision lightly.”

“No, just alone,” Morgan snapped.

Aaron stiffened. “I don’t owe you every piece of my past.”

“No,” Morgan agreed, “but you do owe us your trust.”

“I do trust you,” Aaron said, quietly after thinking. “That’s why he’s here. Not despite you, but because of you.”

JJ leaned forward, voice gentler but still edged. “So what are we supposed to do, Aaron? Just work like nothing’s wrong?”

“You’re supposed to do your jobs,” Aaron said. “Like you always do. Like I always ask you to.�� No one argued. Not out loud. But the air said everything.

Hours passed. Arden sat cross-legged at the table, a pile of redacted files in front of him and a fresh black notebook open. He was sketching, not figures or faces, but patterns. Blood spatter ratios and spirals that linked together like fractals. Reid hovered in the doorway longer than he intended.

“You can come in,” Arden said without looking up.

“I wasn’t going to,” Spencer lied.

“You always pause before entering a space that makes you nervous. Classic ambivalence.”

“I’m not nervous.”

Arden turned his head, slow and easy. “No, but you are curious.” Reid stepped inside, cautiously. “You wrote a theory about neural empathy patterns, one I don’t think you ever published.”

“I didn’t.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Spencer asked, “Did you really help them kill people?”

Arden didn’t blink. “No. I helped them choose.”

“That’s not better.”

Aaron stood in the doorway of the conference room. Arden didn’t look up this time, he was already watching the monitors, taking in the rhythms of the team’s movements like they were music he hadn’t heard in years.

“You’re sleeping here tonight,” Aaron said. “Until the guest quarters are cleared.” Arden seemingly ignored him, eyes still focused on the screens.

Aaron stepped closer. “I need to know something.” Arden finally looked at him. “Is this your plan? Getting close again. To me. To them.”

“No,” Arden said. “It’s not a plan. It’s proximity. I told you, Aaron. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.”

“And if I tell you I don’t believe you?”

Arden smiled, tired and real. “Then I’ll earn it. One file at a time.” Silence settled again. Not hostile. Not warm. Just thick.

From her surveillance hub, Penelope Garcia watched them both. She chewed her lip. Then she turned to the mic, eyes narrowed. “Log this as Entry One,” she whispered into the recorder. “Subject: Arden Morvant. Status: contained. Trust level: uncertain. Danger level…” She paused. Her eyes flicked back to the screen where Arden now sat quietly again, head bowed, drawing something that looked an awful lot like a map of the BAU floor plan. “…evolving.”

Tag List: @paintemars | @skeletonfrogs | @rensswritess

DM or Ask to be added! Liebe Dich! 🖤

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violettavonviolet · 10 months ago

Text

Multifandom Fic Rec's

Fandoms on the list are Spn, James Bond, Harry Potter, Sherlock and Twilight.

All fics are finished and fantastic, the word count goes up as you scroll and the rating is noted. Def do check the tags though!

James Bond

Dramatic Arts

scioscribe

Summary:

In which Spectre is actually Bond's poorly written attempt at falsifying a mission report. Q wants a flight simulator, Eve wants more lines, and M wants a drink. Everybody's a critic.

2.9k teen 00Q humor

Love and Other Hazardous Materials

luchia

Summary:

"This is just getting ridiculous," M says when he finds Q trying to put motorized circular saw blades into a briefcase.

(Or, Q and James Bond love their jobs so very, very much.)

3.5k 00Q

Employee Relations, Friendly Workplace and Team Building: A Guide to Successful Relationships in the MI6

Rosslyn

Summary:

Because even MI6 isn’t exempt from British administrative features and its assorted exercises.

“Ah, bollocks. It says that all departmental heads have to attend or their annual budget won’t get approved. Can they do that?"

R finally sets down the iron and pats Q on the shoulder. “If they can make the Double Os take lessons in health and safety,” she says ominously, “They can do whatever the fuck they want."

6k 00Q crack gen

Q's Favourite

IBegToDreamAndDiffer

Summary:

How the double-ohs found out that James Bond is Q's favourite.

6.6k 00Q teen

Handle With Care

winterhill

Summary:

It’s not exactly a secret that Bond and Q are dating. Most people in the agency give Bond the shovel talk; everyone who doesn’t gives Q the “are you sure you know what you’re doing?” talk. Q and Bond ignore them all and have a lovely time, right up until an exploding pen explodes.

10k 00Q

The Mating Dance of Wolf and Fox**

epithalamium, TheCatOnTheMoon

Summary:

In which Moneypenny despairs of her boys, no one in MI6 is the least bit sane, Bond complains to HR about MI6's workplace policies, Q insists that he is not a fainting maiden, and he might have to sleep with 007.

Strictly for professional purposes, of course.

22k 00Q my favorite

Mistletoe

dhampir72

Summary:

She sits down at her chair, coffee in one hand, folded paper in the other. She is just taking a sip when she opens the paper...and promptly spits her coffee back into the cup.

The paper reads:

James Bond

That can’t be right. It’s impossible. It has to be.

Right?

10k 00Q teen

dawn

kiyala

Summary:

Bond honestly doesn't begin with the intention of courting Q.

17k 00Q teen

Yours, J

swtalmnd

Summary:

Bond sends letters. Q is vexed. Q-branch starts a betting pool. There are an appalling amount of sweets. Also, 002 is a bit of an arse.

40k 00Q explicit

Ordinary Numbers

BootsnBlossoms, Kryptaria

Summary:

More than anything, Mike Taylor wanted to be ordinary. Being a genius, he learned early in life, meant people expected too much. A career at the MI6 Help Desk seemed the perfect way to guarantee a lifetime of obscurity, until he got a very unusual tech support call.

44k 00Q humor

Nodus Tollens

Only_1_Truth

Summary:

Nodus Tollens: the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore

Q's life at the technical help department of MI6 was decently quiet and paid reasonably well - it even gave him vacation time, although he rarely used it. So when Q was finally coaxed to leave work for a bit and relax, he thought that Paris might be fun.

Of course, that was before the gunfight, witnessing a shooting, and being kidnapped by a strange, blue-eyed gunman named James Bond.

88k 00Q teen

Ulysses

girlbookwrm

Summary:

“Paperwork for the new head of Q-Branch,” Tanner said.

“Of course.” The words were like glass in his throat. Smoke inhalation was a bitch. His brain felt slow and foggy, like it was full of smoke too. “Who shall I take them to?”

M lifted one white brow. “They’re for you, Quartermaster.”

Bond and Q are drawn together by names, work, and a certain Aston Martin. In which Q is kidnapped once, Bond is poisoned twice, and Eve is a badass on at least three occasions. AKA that time I tripped and wrote 80,000 words of 00Q.

All titles unapologetically stolen from Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

89k 00Q teen

Twilight

you woke the lion up

Tsume_Yuki

Summary:

Travelling through England and attempting to adjust to this 'vegetarian diet' that Peter had heard about, Jasper Whitlock comes across a pretty girl abandoned in the woods with far more despair than should be appropriate.

And really, as a Southern Gentleman, he can hardly leave her on her lonesome, can he?

20k Jasper/Harry Potter

The Future Mrs Jacob Black.

JessalynMichele

Summary:

Nobody told Jacob how utterly perfect it would be when he finally imprinted on his soulmate...

“I could kill you in ten seconds flat.”

... or how the moment could be completely ruined the moment she opened her mouth.

27k jacob black/harry potter

The Boyfriend

AverageFish

Summary:

"I like the trees here," Harry said, his accent placing him far from home. "They keep my wrackspurts away." It was twilight, and he wasn't wearing any shoes.

"You can stay at my place," Charlie said.

One night turned into teaching Harry to use the coffee machine, and then he grew used to fresh pancakes every Sunday.

Until Charlie realized one day, while calling Harry down from the old oak out back, that he didn't want the man to leave.

29k Charlie/Harry Potter

Green & Gold

JessalynMichele

Summary:

Harry Potter is a traumatized war veteran in a body that won’t die and a mind that won’t rest.

Jasper Hale is intrigued by this new student who looks so vulnerable but sends off such overwhelming waves of angst.

Everyone else is just concerned.

Set post Battle of Hogwarts, starting in the summer before Bella Swans junior year.

144k Harry/Jasper

Harry Potter

will you walk into my parlor (and ne’er come out again?)

Ellory

Summary:

Heiress Pleione Potter is sure she will not get entangled in the web Mister Mycroft Holmes weaves about himself. He proves her wrong.

11k mycroft holmes/harry potter

Magnificent

esama

Summary:

The birth of the Ministry of Magic and his relationship with the British Government.

20k harry/microft holmes teen

to refuse the givens

snark

Summary:

Daphne Greengrass makes a tidy sum selling contraband at Hogwarts, and a nihilistic Harry Potter wants to buy cigarettes.

33k Daphne/Harry

In Evidence of Magical Theory

bixgirl1

Summary:

When a hex meant for Draco accidentally catches Harry as well, they're forced to learn to understand each other in ways they previously might have thought impossible.

In which Harry and Draco can't fight, so they fall in love instead.

43k drarry explicit

Whispers in Corners

esama

Summary:

Everything started with a stumble - his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

64k mycroft holmes/harry potter teen

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run

waspabi

Summary:

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

93k drarry teen

Harry Potter and the Welcome to the World of Grey

sobsicles

Summary:

When Harry fails to keep his anger at bay and Voldemort possesses his mind, the events that follow lead him down a long road to realizing the world isn't as black and white as it seems.

Chaos, hilarity, and tragedy ensue with a Dark Lord being honest all the time, a rival becoming something else, and a world demanding to be saved. Featuring frightened Death Eaters, deep conversations with a monster, Pureblood traditions being ridiculous, and the fight to do the right thing with no true options.

Harry's life just gets more and more bizarre with each passing moment.

~~~

Or, the one where Harry's life gets split in half, and he has to figure out how to bring it back together.

456k drarry explicit

Sherlock

Illusory Correlation and Confirmation Bias

VanillaBegonias

Summary:

Looking back, there were a few things that should’ve tipped Greg off long before that night at the pub. A few things Sherlock left fairly obvious, that on reflection, made Greg question how he’d gotten his job in the first place.

10k johnlock

Son of Mine

simoneallen

Summary:

Wilson shrugged. “Well, you’ve met him,” he pointed out. “What do you think House’s kid would be like, if House had a kid?”

13k crossover house md johnlock explicit

Working on the Edges

earlgreytea68

Summary:

No matter where you put Sherlock and John, they click. Including the Winter Olympics.

56k johnlock mature

Nature and Nurture

earlgreytea68

Summary:

The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street.

203k johnlock

Supernatural

I Like Batman

DarcyDelaney

Summary:

Dean's got enough on his plate, what with doing his damnedest to make sure that Sam has the best Christmas possible; the last thing he needs is to figure out a Secret Santa gift for another kid in Sam's class on top of it all.

3.2k weechesters angst

At the bottom of his glass

Mademoiselle_A

Summary:

It was perfectly normal for a Hunter to drink. John's sons were worried for nothing.

At least, that's what John Winchester thought at first.

3.7k genfic angst

Thumbnail Ridges

whiteraven1606

Summary:

As a child, Dean made sure Sammy got feed, even if that meant Dean didn't eat. It was hard work, right up until it wasn't anymore.

4k genfic angst

i drew our car for you

Septembers_coda

Summary:

Nothing kindergarten teacher April Huxley has ever learned can tell her what to do when adorable, troubled little Dean Winchester falls into her life—or when he vanishes abruptly back out of it.

5k angst weechesters

Runaways

keerawa

Summary:

We lost seven teenage boys from the shelter in the summer of '97. The last were a pair of brothers so wrapped up in each other that I never had a chance to save them. Their names were Sam and Dean.

10k gen angst

"I Need a Favor"

alas_horatio

Summary:

Sam agrees to drive a stranger across the country to join Cas while their brother is in the hospital, only to find out that his new road trip companion isn't so much a stranger as the most haunting one night stand of his life.

15k Destiel Sam/Gabriel teen

Neighborly

Spooks, thesuninside

Summary:

There are two kids living next door. They gotta be surviving off ramen noodles by now, and Christ, but it's none of Frank's business.

22k weechesters crossover

Dies Irae, or Something

AlchemyAlice

Summary:

It starts with headaches, and it ends in a clusterfuck. So, business as usual, Apocalypse-wise.

51k Sam/Gabriel Destiel teen

Angels, Alcohol, and Marriage: Awesome

Akira_of_the_Twilight

Summary:

For Sam waking up next to a supposedly dead archangel was shocking enough, then he learned that aforementioned angel doesn't remember him, and they may have gotten married. From there everything spiraled.

78k Sam/gabriel accidental marraige, mature

#vio's recs #fic recommendation #fic rec #supernatural #sabriel #destiel #bbc sherlock #johnlock #twilight #00q #james bond

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zolo1917 · 2 months ago

Text

Dear comrades, hermits, and those who stumbled here thinking this was an open-mic poetry slam,

We assemble today to bid a theatrical adieu to Jacques Camatte—the French theorist who didn’t just spit in the face of capitalism but mooned the entire industrial age and told it to get a life. Jacques, you’ve finally fled this soulless machine of a world for a realm where there’s no stock exchange, no algorithms, and—dare we hope?—no PowerPoint presentations. May you rest in a meadow, far from the hum of servers, or at least haunt us with a scathing pamphlet from the beyond.

Jacques Camatte was a rebel with a typewriter and a grudge. He started as a Marxist firestarter, rubbing elbows with Italy’s radical left, churning out works like Capital and Community and The Wandering of Humanity—texts so heavy they could double as gym equipment. But Jacques wasn’t here for half-measures. Marxism? Too factory-friendly. Progress? A scam. By the time he hit his primitivist phase, he’d gone full feral philosopher, declaring that civilization itself was the enemy. Forget unions; Jacques wanted us to ditch cities, tractors, and probably socks, dreaming of a return to communal tribes where we’d trade manifestos for acorns. Picture him in his French countryside hideout, squinting at passing mopeds like they were capitalist sleeper agents, plotting his grand escape to a pre-industrial utopia.

Now, you’ve asked: was Jacques sipping tea with Martin Heidegger’s critique? You know, the German philosopher who brooded over Being, stared into the void, and called technology a soul-crushing “enframing” of existence? There’s no smoking gun in Camatte’s bibliography with “Heidegger, M., 1954” scrawled in the margins, but let’s not kid ourselves. Jacques was a theory sponge, soaking up every critique of modernity’s shiny lies. Heidegger’s The Question Concerning Technology—where he warns that tech reduces nature and humans to mere “standing-reserve” for exploitation—would’ve had Jacques nodding so hard his beret fell off. Both men looked at smokestacks and saw shackles; both mourned a world stripped of mystery by gears and greed. Camatte’s primitivist turn, with its call to ditch the industrial grind for a life in tune with nature, smells like it could’ve been scribbled in the Black Forest after a long chat with Heidegger over schnapps. Did they ever “meet” on the page? Maybe not directly, but their ideas were pen pals, swapping postcards about the death of authenticity.

Jacques’ legacy is a glorious middle finger to the modern world. He didn’t just predict capitalism’s collapse; he looked at our skyscrapers, our spreadsheets, our electric toothbrushes, and said, “Nope, I’m out—give me a cave and some good vibes.” And we, in our infinite wisdom, responded by inventing cryptocurrency. Sorry, Jacques, we tried. Your spirit lives on in every off-grid yurt, every anarchist bookfair, every hipster who buys a typewriter “ironically.” You weren’t just a theorist; you were a one-man protest against anything with a plug.

As you ascend to that unalienated, tech-free commune in the cosmos, dear Jacques, know that you’ve left us a Molotov cocktail of ideas and a dream of a world without barcodes. May you find a Heideggerian paradise where Being is unconcealed, technology is banished, and the only “enframing” is a nice wooden picture frame for your manifestos. May the angels quake at your critiques, and may the gods panic when you start debunking their Wi-Fi routers.

Farewell, you magnificent crank. The revolution will be handwoven, or it won’t be at all.

With a smirk and a salute,

[On Behalf of the Proletariat, Still Googling “What Is Enframing

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thecordelialetters · 2 years ago

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˚✧��YUTA'S GIRLFRIEND⁺˳✧༚

A short one-shot where Yuta meets you at your cafe.

★ pairing: Yuta x f!reader ( slight Yuji)

★ wc: 1.33k

After Rika, Yuta never thought he would find love again. Rika was his only friend and he held onto her for so long. He was a shy, awkward guy and barely could talk to a girl. But you were to easy to converse with. He had met you at a cafe, your cafe. You owned the Blue Cat. a small cafe that Yuta swears is the best in town, and not just because he liked you.

Yuta came into your cafe for lunch after a mission feeling tired and hungry. He had been going on nonstop missions for the last 2 weeks and was feeling isolated from his friends. Occasionally he would see Maki and Inumaki but only briefly before he had to go. So when he met you and experienced your kindness, he became enamored. He had ordered a BLT sandwich and a black coffee before sitting by the window looking at the sunset. He didn't know how long he stayed there but he didn't feel like doing back to Jujutsu tech, fearing he would be given another mission. After a while, you approached his table with a soft smile and a cupcake. "Hey, I'm (y/n). This is on the house, you look like you needed it." You started to move away when a firm grip held your hand in place. "Wait...stay." Yuta was a little embarrassed, he was never the bold type but he needed some company, and your friendly face was the first he'd seen in a while. You were shocked but sat down. You thought he was cute, with his panda eyes and soft demeanor. He learned a lot about you, your favorite things to do, the desserts you like, and how you came into owning the Blue Cat. He could listen to you for hours.

"Oh my god, it's closing time." Most of the customers had already left, it was only you and Yuta. "Oh, I'm so sorry for keeping you here." Yuta apologized. "No worries, I enjoyed talking to you... feel free to stop by more often. Let me give you my number!" You ran behind the counter to a pen and scribbled your number on a napkin to give him. After saying goodbye you two parted ways, but it wouldn't be the last time Yuta came by, he would come by every week, then, twice a week, then every day.

It wasn't long till Yuta and you started to date. He was the best boyfriend, always texting you updates on his mission, making time to see you before you closed, and occasionally going on dates. The last date you two went on was to the countryside to a flower field and he picked you the largest bouquet! You could say he was a romantic.

Yuta had begun brightening up, and everyone could see it. No longer was he like a sulking shadow, but he began walking with more confidence and starting more conversations rather than just saying hi.

"Maki, doesn't Yuta seem different? He seems happier" Panda noted. He Maki and Toge were having lunch in the courtyard.

"Your right, he even smiled at me the other day, like a big smile." Maki agreed. " What do you think Toge? "

"shake." Toge nodded.

They went on to gobbling their lunch before Gojo tried to join them.

Meanwhile, Yuta had just come back from your cafe passing the trio. "YUTA!!!! hey, where are you coming from" Panda said wrapping his arm around Yuta.

"Oh, I'm just coming back from the Blue Cat!"

"Wait I heard that place is really good, have you tried the sweets there? Panda I've been saying we should go !" Maki shouted.

Yuta scratched his head and blushed "Yeah they're super good I love the red velvet cupcakes. I go pretty often"

"And you've never invited us!" "Sorry Maki, how about we all go Saturday! I don't have a mission" Yuta was going to go Saturday anyway and then sleep at your place, but It couldn't hurt to bring his friends, you've been wanting to meet them anyway.

The next day Yuta was super busy he didn't have time to stop by Blue Cat so you decided to make him lunch and bring it to him.

Walking around Jujutsu tech you looked for the dorms to surprise him. Maki noticed you enter and kept her eyes on you, what was a non-sorcerer doing here? You looked innocent in your pink summer dress and cafe apron but one can never be too sure.

"And you who are you?"

You let out a scream and almost dropped Yuta's lunch. There was a girl with glasses and green hair staring into your soul. You felt a little intimidated by her, but it was obvious she was a strong person.

"Im uh bringing lunch for my boyfriend... he said he dorms here."

Maki saw " Yu <3 "written on the bag you were holding and assumed you were looking for Yuji. You were super pretty and just Yuji's type, shy boy Yuta never even crossed her mind.

"Oh my bad sorry, the dorms are that way," She said pointing in the opposite direction you had been walking. Little did you know you were walking towards the freshman dorm. As you approached the dorms Yuji had come out of his room. "Oh, hi there" He greeted. Maki was right you were super cute and totally Yuji's type. "Are you a new student here?" He said approaching you cooly. "Oh no, Im-"

"She's here for me," A familiar voice said, wrapping its hand around your waist.

"Y-Yuta! You scared me" You said turning around to hug him.

"Dang it the cute ones are always taken," Yuji said before returning to his room.

Giving you a kiss Yuta spun you around before snuggling his face in your neck. " I've missed you today, thank you for coming my love." You blushed and kissed his head "Of course Yuu, let me take care of you." Yuta looked up and saw a mischievous glint in your eye before dragging you off toward his room.

Saturday could not come sooner, after Yuta told you about his friends visiting you were so excited. He told you all about them and how they helped him with Rika and adjusting to school.

Yuta, Maki, Panda, and Toge headed to the Blue Cat.

"I'm so excited! I heard their desserts are the BEST. Im going to buy one of everything, and you better not eat it Panda..." Maki glared at Panda, last time he ate all her pastries from Paris Baguette.

They all sat down near the front of the cafe and began gushing over the menu. You had just finished putting a batch of muffins in the oven when you walked over to meet the group. "Hi, welcome to-" You were interrupted by Maki shouting " Hey your Yuji's girlfriend!! We met the other day." You were shocked she thought that, but you hadn't told her who your boyfriend was. Maki continued to tell everyone how you had brought Yuji lunch and it was so cute. You looked to Yuta for an explanation but he was looking down. "Ah.. Maki, you misunderstand" You said waving your hand in the air. You didn't know if Yuta was the jealous type, but for now, he was silent. Suddenly Yuta looked at up with a smile on his face "Actually Maki." His chair squeaked on the floor as he stood up. Yuta wrapped his arm around your waist. " She mine. " Maki, Panda, and Toge looked up in shock.

"No way! She's your girlfriend...but she's so pretty." Maki shouted.

"Shake."

" Congrats Yuta." Panda approved.

You took this as an opportunity to kiss Yutas cheek. " We met at the cafe since he came here all the time. Yuta's very sweet to me." You looked up at Yuta adoringly. He did treat you well. Before Yuta, you were struggling to get out of bed each morning, running out of ideas for desserts, but after you woke up each morning excited to text Yuta and things finally felt right in the world.

"In fact, I have a surprise for you guys. " You walked back to the kitchen to retrieve the new dessert you've been working on.

Coming back out you revealed a pink and white strawberry cake with heart-shaped sprinkles.

" This is my newest dessert! The Yuta special !"

#jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu yuji #yuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #yuji itadori #yuta x y/n #yuta x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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stoneybun · 4 months ago

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JSchlatt x vet assistant reader (pt. 1 / ?) A/N: Reeeeally self indulgent on this one, chat... also fem reader :3 The tasks never seemed to end working in a clinic as small as yours. You practically were at the head, you and the registered tech somehow keeping the pace fairly well despite the large chunk of appointments you just had to work through. Right now you finally had a moment to sit at the front desk, huffing a sigh as you started typing away on the black keyboard in front of you, trying to put in a visit record before your last appointment of the day would arrive. It was a new client, which honestly had your anxiety up. Please, don't let it be another one who would scream at you over the prices, or get mad that you don't know all the answers... you were still in school after all. Which, some clients seemed to be interested in the fact of that whenever you'd handle their pets, also seeming to have a natural way with them. Just as you were about to start the next line on the computer, the front door tugs open and the familiar digitized bell-sound rings. Naturally, you lift your head to see who walked in. "Hello!" you chime without having even seen the person yet, it becoming a habit, the practiced friendly tone coming out of your mouth with ease. You blink for a moment. This guy was kinda.... No. Stop it. You're at work, dumbass. "D'you have an appointment?" you ask, your tone a little lighter than before as your eyes dart to the carrier in his left hand, seeing a brief glimpse of orange fur behind the closed door. He practically towered over the desk, especially as you were still sat in your swivel chair, fidgeting with the pen in your hand out of habit. "Yeah, this lil' bastard is Jambo," he spoke matter-of-factly, gesturing to the cat in the carrier by slightly lifting it. You stifled a laugh at his word choice, watching a flicker of amusement pass through his dark eyes. "Ah, alright, well," you look back up at him briefly before your eyes darted down to the desk in front of you, standing up and grabbing the paperwork. "I'm gonna get y'guys in a room and started on some papers," you explained while standing, the chair wheeling back slightly from your movement. Good lord, even when you weren't sitting down the guy felt like a looming presence over you. Either way, you snapped the thoughts from your head for the moment and led him down the small hall into an exam room. "Go ahead and put his carrier on the table for me, if you don't mind," you request in a casual tone, always talking that way with clients. He seemed to appreciate it. "Yeah, sure," he accepts with a small shrug, figuring it made enough sense. He easily lifted the carrier to rest it on the small exam table while you were separating a few papers, clipping some onto a clipboard and placing a pen on top before sliding it over to him. "D'you think he'll be fine if I take him out? I know some kits prefer bein' left alone," you try to joke, which he seems to appreciate, a small lopsided smile forming on his face. "He's a lil' bit of an attention whore, but other than that, yeah," he easily bounces off of your energy, making you let out a small giggle, shaking your head before moving your hand to unlock the front door of the carrier. Before you know it, the orange fur ball comes out onto the table, curious eyes moving about the room. "Hey bud," you greet the cat in a soft tone, the only other sound in the room being the man filling out the information on the sheets. At least he seemed to be actually reading through things and paying attention unlike a lot of your usuals... Either way, you pry your attention back to Jambo as you place the baby scale onto the counter and turn it on since you still needed to weigh the guy. Using your hands, you tap the plastic of the scale to entice him to walk over, Jambo seeming intrigued and doing exactly what you want him to. "Oh good boy," you murmur in a warm tone, scratching the top of his head gently as you wait for the numbers to settle.

Schlatt's reaction goes completely unnoticed by you, but he slightly shifts in his seat as he finishes up the page he was on, now being done with the paperwork you had handed him. The clipboard rattled a little as he set it down in his lap, crossing his arms and a soft sniffle came from him as he tried to clear his head. Meanwhile, you wrote down the weight before nudging him so he'd get off the scale, only for him to nudge his head into your arm and start purring. A soft and amused huff pulled your gaze away from him, instead looking at Schlatt. "What?" you raise a brow with a lopsided smile, curious what he reacted like that for. Schlatt shakes his head, a brief snicker leaving him. "Oh nothin', just watching my cat suddenly becoming obsessed with you," he quips. "Don't cats normally use you guys like scratchin' posts?" "Pretty much, but he's bein' probably the best I've seen," You coo to Jambo who was too busy purring and melting from the amazing scratches you were giving him. Schlatt hums in response to this, his eyes briefly flickering to Jambo before analyzing you again. He was about to say something when the doctor walked in to do the exam, cutting your conversation from progressing. He listened to the doctor talking to him about what she'd be doing treatment-wise since he needed a couple shots, mostly keeping eye contact. He couldn't help but also occasionally glance at how you gently picked up Jambo, letting him hang from your shoulder while your arm was around his middle, scratching the side of his neck with your other hand. It was nice seeing that he was going to be well taken care of, at least whenever you'd be around. Yeah, that's why he kept looking... Schlatt was mindlessly scrolling on his phone while Jambo was in your care, slumped slightly in the bench he was waiting in. He lifts his head once he hears the door handle press down, watching as you had Jambo cradled like a baby before letting him down in front of the carrier that was still open. He meows and tries to come back into your arms, making you snicker. "I know," you murmur, you and Schlatt both letting out a brief laugh as he bats at the door once you managed to get him inside. "You tryin' to steal my cat or somethin'?" he quips, a lopsided grin on his face as he got up from his spot, adjusting the Yankees hat on his head. You caught a brief glimpse of his hair beneath it, seeing maybe a loose curl, but you didn't get that great of a look. A smile forms on your face as you shake your head, not really being used to easily going back and forth with a client like this. Most of the people who came in your clinic were older. Or if they were around your age, you never really entertained the thought of being friendly beyond your baseline. "Doesn't seem like he'd complain," you bite back, watching his grin widen as he lets out a brief laugh. "Nah he's spoiled rotten. I don't think he could live without his auto-feeder or the fancy toys he's got," he teases while looking at Jambo through the door of his carrier before picking it up by the handle. Your coworker had already done the bill with him, so you were able to just lead him out the exam room door to the sliding glass one across the hall. You grab the handle and pull so it'd open, looking up at Schlatt as he glanced back down to the carrier in his hand, Jambo pawing at the door again. "Fuckin' ridiculous," he laughs, your own laughter joining his and shaking your head. "You sure you didn't give him somethin' to like you so much? He's never been like this at other vets," his gaze meets yours as you shrug. "Guess I got lucky," you grin, a flutter of anxiety going through you for whatever reason. You had bantered so easily before, but now suddenly hyper-aware of his gaze. Schlatt hums, taking note of that, not wanting to make it worse and taking it as a sign to go. "If that's how ya wanna put it," he grins, trying to offer some sort of comfort, only making your heart stutter as he leaves.

Well, now you had to close up while trying to wrangle the thoughts in your head, a brief and knowing giggle behind you from your coworker. "Shut up."

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x you #jschlatt x you #jschlatt fanfic #heheheh slowburn!!!!#how we feeling about this one chat

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 6 months ago

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Sentences For WIPs, Round Two

Thanks for the tag to play again @523rdrebel 🩷 - helps me remember to do a round two of all the WIPs I have that didn't fit in the first one! [Once again I'll be tweaking how I play to add a sentence for each vote for every WIP that gets voted for since I have so. Many. WIPs.]

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll including every WIP you want to work on, and have people vote for one of those WIPs. Then once voting has concluded, you write one sentence for every vote of the WIP that received the most amount of votes.

What else is Frost cooking? Have another taste below!

Laundry on the Line: As the six newest refugees to Pabu, Clone Force 99 moves in next door to a friendly and not to mention remarkably helpful Pabu native, the respective homes and yard space separated by a single, low fence. Everything from morning chores to supplying the extra egg they needed to make dinner, their neighbor offers a helping hand again and again. While a certain ARC trooper is plenty capable of contributing to keeping-house and other related tasks, Echo can't deny that for some things (like hanging up clean laundry on the line) you may not be able to avoid needing an extra set of hands.

Where The Wildest Stars Grow: Angst with a happy ending; mostly told from Wrecker's POV. A joint mission between a recently-Knighted Jedi's unit and Clone Force 99 experiences an attack from Separatist forces stronger than expected that forces the Jedi to call for a retreat if she has any hope of saving her soldiers. In the process of buying her men time, the new general is critically injured; Wrecker is the only soldier available to come to the rescue. He takes up a new, unfamiliar weapon in a desperate bid to keep her safe until help arrives. And somehow: it works.

This is Blue Vulture Tower, Over: Modern AU "loosely" inspired by the adventure game Firewatch. [May well be a crossover by time it's finished!] Crosshair picks up a summer job as a fire lookout for Coruscant Forest National Park, finding himself struggling to adjust to civilian life after serving for several years in the military. He is given command of Blue Vulture Tower, and has to report to the man known to the other rangers and lookouts by "Gray Fox", manning a tower of the same name. It's not long before Cross learns the Gray Fox is a veteran like himself, and he goes by Mayday. The two vets become verbal pen-pals through cassette tapes when they aren't using the radio, because there are just some matters that are best discussed without having someone accidentally listening-in. Together, they work through some of their experiences in the service while Cross navigates the new nature of his relationship to his brothers and recently adopted(?) sister.

Maker As My Witness: A fresh marriage facing trouble due to an unusual source, Boba, recently-(self)made Daimyo, finds himself making strange and out-of-character promises in his many attempts to assure you of just how much he loves you. Even if it means that it comes to letting you go. You keep dreaming of finding yourself leaving Boba for the stoic, hired gun that was here recently; and it's causing you just as much distress. (It's not like Mando did anything in particular to create this new and rather sudden way you've been feeling about him, lately. Nor did you. All Mando did was help him with a job for one of the native Tusken tribes; this is simply curiosity that has spiraled way out of control.) Together the two of you promise the other a great deal of patience in the time it takes to weather out this passing storm.

Names Are For Tombstones: In the light of a soured job, you and Din have to stick together longer than planned. Much, much longer. Only, you don't actually know the name of the man making up the other half of your prolonged partnership. And he's sure as hell not telling you anytime soon, either. That "beautiful beskar bastard" is playing coy and taking his sweet, sweet time...

Brothers & Batchmates Pt. 3: Third installment in the B&B arc of my OC storyline; Canvas and the group of batchmates (+ friends) he's been adopted into are getting one step closer to a rocky reunion with the troubled "middle child" of the batch, Scuffle. He's mouthy, rude, and is no stranger to picking fights among those he should be calling "brother". After being reassigned to two different units, the last being the 104th Battalion, Scuffle has been returned to his original deployment in hopes that if he is going to look after himself, then maybe the brothers that knew him best will do it for him. Something that Canvas can strongly relate to.

Flowers For A Brute: [Unofficial title.] Savage and his brothers, down on their luck, finally seem to be treated with the galaxy's favor once again when a humble botanist offers them a more proper place to stay when she finds the three of them hiding out in her greenhouse in the middle of the winter. She never turns the Zabrak brothers in, seeing as unlike all the silk-soft flower petals and delicate-looking plants she surrounds herself with, there's a bit of a thorny history to her, too. One she'd rather keep buried with bag upon bag of potting soil. Safe to begin planning their next moves, Savage takes to sneaking off in hopes of growing his own green thumb with a little of the botanist's guidance.

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku, Part 2: [Unofficial title.] Follow-up to Of Honeysuckle and Haiku. Generously taking you to Naboo, like you've always dreamed of, Tech finds (and creates) a bit of pressure to keep planning more and more elaborate dates now that the loth-cat is out of the bag and the two of you don't have to behave quite so professionally like before. Thankfully his brothers are there not only to cheer him on from the sidelines, but to set Tech on straight; only when he really needs it. And over-thinking the very first date certainly counts as needing it.

Wounded Wings: Crashlanding a borrowed shuttle on a remote, neutral world, the Bad Batch are thrown into a rather sticky situation when they're left without transport and a quick way home to the Republic. Luck is on their side however: they can still contact the GAR, and the local people have welcomed CF99 into their village, sharing shelter and food with the soldiers until they can either find or create a way home for themselves. In one of the many efforts to help them, a mildly Force-sensitive woman by the name of Weshla—but better known by "Wing"—agrees to serve as their guide through the dense forests not long after she befriends the squad. Hidden roots will not be the only thing Tech finds himself tripping over the longer he has a chance to get to know the woman who seems to be the unofficial guardian to a living force of nature much, much larger than herself.

#dashboard games #wip game #sentences for wips #echo x reader #wrecker x reader #tbb modern au #boba fett x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #clone oc: canvas #savage opress x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x ofc #am I going to finish ALL of these WIPs this year? Oh hell no. But I certainly want to finish as many of the non-series fics as I can!#there's *one* that I didn't add because I want to keep it a secret until we're a little closer to October~

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