#Guess I'm building a museum now

[midsummermoon20]

(Me, who dislikes building community lots): "I guess I'll fiddle around a bit and try and make a Sulani Museum or somethin idk, I'll probably give up halfway thru"

Also Me, 5 hours into building: AnNd ThE GIfT ShoP CAn gO HeRe, AnD I'lL NeEd ThiS CC, aNd THis Cc AND TheN I'LL-

[thecherrygod]

Oh right I just remembered the dream I had last night

[beeseverywhen]

laundry and chemistry (starring: coin cleaning chemicals)

so i saw a post on here about laundry stripping and i wanted to try it out as i live somewhere with really hard water and can’t use very strong detergents day to day as i have very sensitive skin, so it seemed like an interesting thing to try and see what happened

(my suspicion is, it will leach the dye and i’ll have to redye the towels but thats no big issue as i kinda feel like a new colour anyway and am gonna make sure i only put the same colours in together during my trial)

anyway so immediately, i read the instructions and know that some adjustments are gonna have to be made, as borax isnt sold here (banned) so i’ll need a substitute for that at the least. the post directed me to use borax, laundry SOAP not detergent, and washing soda

now straight away i know i need to be on my guard here as a lot of stuff like this will have the same name as an american thing, but be a whole different product. (cleaning products are very different here, in part cause of different regulations, but i think a big factor is actually how we clean stuff? american washing machines tend to be a lot bigger, and with toploaders you can soak stuff/have cold cycles which allows you to use laundry bleach which isnt really used so much here) when i visit my family (non us country but american appliances are common) i have a complete nightmare finding like for like laundry stuff i’m not allergic too

anyway, i’m not so worried about allergies here as after the soak i’ll be rewashing anyway. so laundry SOAP i figure they mean plain soap, like castile soap; washing soda, i figure is likely the same as the soda crystals we use for cleaning, which brings me to the borax. now this i know i definitely cant get here, so i find out that i can make a borax substitute from soda crystals and bicarb of soda, as i’m already using the soda crystals, this seems like a good option.

so i go to buy myself some bicarb, and the shop are selling a product called ‘borax subsitute’ so i decide to pick up this and the bicarb and compare the two.

so soda crystals= sodium carbonate

bicarb of soda= sodium bicarbonate

borax substitute? that’s sodium sesquicarbonate

now i’ve got the borax substitute the bicarb seems a little redundant, however. if i’m mixing any kind of chemical i want to make sure i know what i’m going to end up making, and make sure i’m aware of any risks.

leading me on the the chemistry of this all. i find myself on a coin collecting site, where they explain that by mixing sodium bicarbonate (NaHCO₃) and sodium carbonate (Na₂CO₃) with water i can make sodium sesquicarbonate (Na₃H(CO₃)₂ ) AND CO₂ (so i need to ensure i have good ventilation!)

however i clearly have no need to make my own sodium sesquicarbonate as i have ready made borax substitute. which made me wonder, as i am using sodium sesquiocarbonate rather than borax (sodium tetraborate decahydrate) is the addition of soda crystals (washing soda) (sodium carbonate) now redundant? in fact, why did the original recipe say to mix washing soda and borax, when the washing soda is made of the same components as borax (minus the borate), is there a secondary reaction involved here, or is it a case of overengineering the recipe? and what about the laundry soap? will that react as well?

when i tried to investigate further i stumbled upon sodium percarbonate, otherwise known as oxygenated bleach, and made by mixing soda crystals and hydrogen peroxide. now, while i am willing to risk the dye in the towels somewhat by stripping, i’m not looking to bleach them, so i realise pretty soon that sodium percarbonate is to be avoided

i’m not intending to add any hydrogen peroxide (don’t have any, not very common here), but i do need to make sure that it isnt in any soap that i may use. i know that castille soap is made from olive oil, water, glycerine and potassium hydroxide (lye), so i need to check that mixing the lye and the sodium sesquicarbonate is not going to make anything a) dangerous b) bleaching (like sodium percarbonate). when i tried to research this, i came across a very alarming chemistry forum post in which someone mixed the two, and it lead to a exothermic (hot!) reaction producing a mystery chemical, which they poked??? noting ‘I touched the tip of my finger to it and didn't get any chemical burns.‘ i mean i know this isnt labwork, but have some awareness of health and saftey! don’t tocuh mystery chemicals.

anyway, this reaction turned out to be a one off, likely caused by the soap they’d made containing soy oil, which introduced acid in to the mix, luckily i am not at risk of this as i have a deadly allergy to soy, so no soy oil is in the building. anyway.

by this point i’m really starting to doubt the need for additional detergent, when there is already sodium sesquicarbonate and possibly, washing soda, in the mix. i’m also starting to think that american ‘laundry soap’ is not pure soap as i’d assumed, but maybe something else entirely. looking up american recipes, they all seem to mean something different by laundry soap and some of them are using detergents, honesly i’m still a little unclear on the benefit of combining washing soda and ‘borax substitute’ when washing soda is used to make ‘borax substitute, it seems to me that changing the proprotions of ingredients is unlikely to be helpful (or may be more helpful if it makes something better i guess, but this i doubt) i’ve been hoping i might come across an old web style forum or webpage, where a chemist might explain the benefit of using 3 ingredients rather than one, and explain what is being created when they are all mixed. as i’ve yet to find this, i’ve decided to go with equal amounts of all 3 and then i will experiment with removing one ingredient at a time and comparing the results, in the future.

by comparing the various laundry detergents in my house i have found that they actually vary quite a bit ingredients wise, even tho they are all sensitive non bio detergents, one of them includes optical brighteners including oxygenated bleach, so we will not be using that one with the coloured clothes (funnily enough this is actually the one that i avoid using and only use for rugs and sofa covers and stuff as my skin plays up with it. the other ones don’t seem to have anything major that’ll react with the rest, so lets see

i have also learnt that borate requires hot water to activate it, so the americans i saw using it without hot water, probably arent getting much benefit from it

[cookinguptales]

You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

[reiderwriter]

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

[seat-safety-switch]

When it comes to measurement, you are one of two kinds of person. You can be measure-twice-cut-once, or you can be cut-twice-measure-never. Personally, I'm the latter kind of person, and I've never quite gotten along with the measurement-uber-alles crew.

You see, life is short. That's why I always cut long. If it doesn't fit the first time, well, you can trim it right down. Then, you look like a hard worker and a fast worker, all in one. Cutting long saves a lot of time, and sometimes it even makes up for all of the dumb mistakes you made while not-measuring. I can tell I'm starting to lose some of the C-students in the back, who are now playing five-finger-fillet with the bandsaw out of sheer boredom. Let me give you a more concrete example before I have to remember how to make a tourniquet.

A couple years ago, I had signed onto this group of palaeontologists. That's a fancy Greek word for "dinosaur touchers." Their job was to dig deep into the earth, pull up some bones, and then sell those bones for not enough money to museums who grudgingly added them to their existing piles of dinosaur bones. I got hired because they needed a guy to drive the Jeeps, and occasionally make huevos rancheros. Not with the dinosaur eggs, I asked.

Anyway, the thing is, as a generic fixer, they also wanted me to build stuff all the time. Fences. Planter boxes. Scaffolds. Shallow, animal-proof graves when they had to betray a fellow palaeontologist over a big find. Things got dark out there in the desert, but that's a story for another time. Once, I had to build bathroom stalls, so they'd have a place to human-poop, while they were digging up dinosaur poop. I got a lot of practice measuring, and even more practice cutting.

Oh, I can see that the start of this interminably boring story has caused a couple of you to inadvertently maim yourselves. Okay, I'll get the Gojo® Blood-And-Guts-Cleaner. I guess my story ran a little bit long. So hard to estimate when it's going to end.

[neiptune]

i'm gonna kiss you like the sun cw: 3k wc, female reader, suggestive if you squint, barely proofread, this is sooo self indulgent and warm and fluffy and i just love him to the moon and back like trigger warning he's perfect

Brazil really is everything Shoyo said it would be.

He wasn’t sure about bringing you to Rio at first, insisted that São Paulo alone would’ve been more comfortable, but you really wanted to explore the city that welcomed him for two whole years so long ago. You’re so glad he decided to accomodate the request: witnessing the stars in his eyes as you wandered around the city, feeling the emotion laced into his tone as he described special spots and introduced you to old friends in confident portuguese, getting to observe how perfectly tangerine curls caught the soft light of sunsets on flawless beaches… made it all worth it.

São Paulo was nice too: ever the cosmopolitan metropolis, it reminded you of Tokyo albeit in a completely original way. Shoyo was given a nice, comfortable apartiment in Chácara Flora but you spent little to no time in there, too busy exploring Ibirapuera park, different museums, climbing all the way up the Farol Santander building and enjoying oh so much good food. However, as much as you loved the city and its locals, Rio is different.

The sky is so big it hurts to look at, an impossible shade of blue makes one feel as if each morning nature paints it the most marvelous nuance just to make sure you’d spend a little extra time with your head tilted back. Colorful streets are filled with music at all times, bubbly enough to persuade complete strangers to attempt a few improvised steps on the way home or right outside a bar, on nights when the mere fact of being alive makes the world feel just a tad bit more magical. Your taste buds have been blessed with the most delicious servings of feijoada, churrasco, coxinha and pão de queijo, one of Hinata’s personal favorites.

The amount of love Shoyo has for Rio makes more sense now that you get to experience his deep connection with the city firsthand. No wonder he calls it his second home: the first real gift he bought for himself was a luxurious penthouse in Ipanema, complete with terrace, a gorgeous view on the beach and a private pool. He never misses the chance to fly his family or friends for a vacation, certainly happy to have a well-situated life in both São Paulo and Tokyo but equally joyous at the prospect of making additional special memories in the city that is still so dear to him.

It’s the first time you accepted to visit, always more inclined to simply wait for him to return to either Tokyo or the Miyagi prefecture. Flying is not exactly your favorite activity and 20+ hours of planes have always been a pretty convincing deterrent. Turns out, missing your boyfriend too much is an equally strong incentive.

And so you’re here, on one of the most beautiful beaches on the other side of the world, sitting on a  comfortable towel and still a bit jet lagged as you excitedly recount the latest gossip about one of your colleagues, secretly planning to propose to her girlfriend soon. Except it feels like you’re the only one hearing the story.

“Shoyo”, you pout, “are you listening?”.

“No”, he says right away, blunt in his honesty as always, gaze fixed on something distant above your shoulder, brows furrowed in worry “sorry, I’ll be right back” and just like that, he gets up from the towel you’re sharing to walk off toward a destination you can only pinpoint when you turn your head around.

There’s a beach volleyball court, because of course there is, and a group of boys seems to be having a good time playing. For some reason the teams are not balanced, it’s two against three, but they’re all laughing and having fun. All except one, a kid sitting on the sand not too far away from those you can only guess are his friends, scowl deep and brows furrowed. While the others look like teenagers, he seems way younger with those lanky arms and thin legs. From the way he’s begrudgingly observing the game, it wouldn’t be unfair to assume that he wasn’t allowed to play.

Shoyo approaches him with the wave of a hand and a friendly inflection in his portuguese. It doesn’t take long for the kid to replace a deeply wary expression with a more relaxed one. He nods at some point and your boyfriend sits next to him on the sand, at reasonable distance to make sure the kid is comfortable being so close to a stranger, baseball cap pushed further down as he observes the game. Your best guess is that he asked the boy if it was okay for him to watch the match with him, probably introduced himself simply as someone who’s passionate about the sport.

You observe as Shoyo’s lips move but his eyes stay focused on the court, comments and possibly suggestions mumbled to himself, a few claps and cheers for good measure. It’s the boy that wants to talk to him now, he’s probably asking a few questions and Hinata can finally accomplish what was probably his mission all along. They chat for a bit, then the kid shrugs and angrily shakes his head, utters something under his breath and you can see the disapproval in the downwards curve of your boyfriend’s mouth. He’s up again after a while, as he walks off the boy yells something you don’t understand after him. When Hinata is back shortly after, there’s a ball in his hands and a wide grin on his face.

It takes some convincing and putting a good amount of distance between them and the group, but eventually Shoyo is able to convince him to play. When the kid gets up from the sand, you can’t help but smile: he’s not nearly as tall as his friends.

It starts with some easy setting drills, then forearm bumps. You’re lying on your tummy now, book in hand but still a few glances curiously directed to where they’re enjoying themselves. You can hear Shoyo’s laugh and see his companion’s now relaxed features, smile beaming as he digs to try and catch your boyfriend’s spikes. He most certainly willingly misses a few of the boy’s ones, dramatically throws himself on the powdery sand now sticking to their chests and backs. Yet, they’re having a good time. While probably risking a sunstroke but still, they’re enjoying themselves.

And so you relax, focus on your designated beach read, content to finally have some time to digest a few additional pages. The main character decides to spend the summer on a remote island in the middle of the pacific ocean, meets a group of friends and begins a dreamy intimate friendship with one attractive, local surf instructor.

You’re devouring the chapter following their one night stand when the shadow of someone crouching down in front of your towel makes your gaze flicker up.

“Hey beautiful”, Shoyo grins, all flushed cheeks and glistening shoulders, “wanna go for a swim with me?”.

He doesn’t apologize for having left so abruptly and, as you push back some of the hair sticking to his forehead, it’s a relief to find yourself not as bruised as you'd feel at the beginning of your relationship. Shoyo has taught you that not every gesture or word carries actual malice: he has his own way of looking at the world and will leave in the middle of a conversation if he witnesses a kid being unfairly tossed aside. It’s what makes him, him. And you love him so much.

“That was very kind of you”, he downplays your compliment instantly, with a shake of the head. Shoyo doesn’t always apologize but he never fails to explain.

“It was nothing, we just played a little. Then one of his friends recognized me and asked for an autograph, so I think Marcelo finally felt more confident. He’s really talented, you know? I told him about all the people who never wanted to play with me either and that he should never allow anyone to tell him that he’s not good enough to do what he loves”, he smiles and then softly grasps the hand still gently running through his locks to press it to his lips.

“Should’ve told him about the little giant”, you grin.

“I did! But he didn’t seem too interested in gringos, was wary of me too when I approached him”.

“Well, I’m pretty sure this particular gringo has made his day”.

Shoyo’s chuckle is soft and you press a kiss to the portion of his knee that is not covered in sand before closing your book with a loud thud and shoving it back into your bag.

“Was I gone for long? Did you get bored?”, he offers a hand to help you stand up and you bask in the comfort of his sincere worry. He may get distracted easily but you’re never not among his priorities.

“Didn’t get bored. Did miss you”.

“Oh no”, a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes, “whatever we should do about that”.

A yelp is heard when he pulls you into him and picks you up in one fluid motion, laugh like a melody when you grumble some nonsense about how sweaty he is and the amount of sand that is now sticking to your body as well.

“See? Now we both need a good rinse” Shoyo kisses your pout away and smiles against the comforting curve of your lips when he feels your legs wrap around his waist.

“Can’t stand you” the good natured affront only makes him chuckle harder as he carries you toward the shore, precious cargo clinging onto him like a koala bear.

“Ah, you were standing for me alright this morning against the wall”.

You furrow your brows as you meet his playful gaze. “I think you’re spending too much time with the wrong Miya twin”.

Tongue in cheek, Shoyo shrugs nonchalantly and tightens his arms around you when you shudder as the water hugs his waist and your ankles. He doesn’t let go and is glad you don’t seem inclined to pull away either, satisfied with being held as you gently wash the sand from his chest and shoulders once your boyfriend settles where the atlantic is deeper but still shallow enough for him to stand.

Shoyo never thought he could’ve loved Rio more than he already does but having you there is an entirely new kind of magic he didn’t believe he’d ever experience. If he didn’t think he’d scare you off and if the rational part of his brain didn’t acknowledge that it would be horribly unfair, it wouldn’t take but a second to ask you to move there with him. For him.

His life is perfect but never complete so long you’re not there to share it. He wants you always, will need you forever, and for a fleeting moment his stomach squeezes when the feeble vision of a white dress flashes before his eyes.

“I love you”, he utters softly, “I love that you’re here”. So much.

He thinks of the sunflowers sitting all pretty in a vase right below his kitchen window, an apartment instantly made all the more special. He receives flowers from fans and his family but you’re the only person who regularly gets them for him. Not because it’s his birthday, not to celebrate or as consolation. The first time you went out for dinner he had some red roses and you showed up with an identical bouquet. Then grinned: I just thought you’d like them. He did.

Shoyo knows you like the back of his hand, so there’s no chance he’d miss the slight hesitation in your smile as you murmur that you love him back.

“Something wrong?”,  he searches your features for any hint of discomfort. You huff, offer some sarcasm to cover up your worries.

“Sometimes I’m not entirely sure it’s good to have such a perceptive boyfriend”.

Alarm bells ring into his head, albeit the sound is distant. If something serious was on your mind, surely you would’ve told him.

“Wanna talk about it?” he doesn’t necessarily want to make this about himself but also desperately wants to ask if it’s him who did something to upset you.

“It’s stupid”.

“It’s never stupid if it troubles you”.

It takes a deep breath and the gentle roll of the waves to gather the right words, one of his hands calmingly rubbing soft circles on your back.

“I just… sometimes I guess I find it hard to believe that you miss me”.

Shoyo’s face falls, hand halts its movements.

“What?”.

“This is entirely on me!”, you hope the quick clarification is enough to alleviate the torment written all over his features, “it’s not something I’m blaming you for! You don’t do anything wrong, ever”.

It doesn’t work. The shock melts into genuine heartache.

“Why would you think that?”, his voice comes out thin and low, a broken whisper. Fuck.

“Because I go through illogical moments and feelings. It’s not you who makes me feel like that, it’s just my brain”.

“Where does your brain get that assumption from?”.

You sigh, loosen the hold around his neck. It’s really hard to put your insecurities into words, especially to the one person who never gave you a single reason to doubt about his affection. It makes you feel like an asshole.

Even during such a disheartening moment, Shoyo thinks of you first. He has no trouble sustaining your weight and keeping you pressed against him with one arm alone, as his other hand gently cups your face to tilt it upwards.

“It’s because I’m happy here”. Not a question. He really does know you better than anyone else.

“You are. And I love that you are. I’m just being a jerk”.

Truth is, you miss him so much it feels unbearable at times. You’d go through such horrible days, hours long crying sessions, only to then open up your instagram and find posts and stories of him laughing, smiling, always having the time of his life. You’d never want him to feel miserable, he deserves everything he has and more. But you’d lie if you said it didn’t occasionally sting. You’d lie if you said you never felt like he didn’t need you after all.

Shoyo hums as he resumes his soft rubbing, thumb gently skimming over the skin under your eye.

“I am happy. I love living in this country and the people in it. I love my job. I’m lucky, my life is perfect”.

“I know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”, his thumb is now pressing onto your lips as a tiny smile stretches his.

“And yet. It’s only complete if you’re with me. Did your brain know that?” he tilts his head to the side “I always miss you. When I’m playing, when I’m not playing, if I’m out with the team, while having breakfast, as I go to sleep. If you’re not where I am, I miss you. I’m happy but I’m not whole. Tell that to your brain for me, yeah?”.

He chuckles when you just look at him, stunned.

“I’m sorry”, you whisper once more.

“Ah, man!”, Shoyo’s laugh is jovial, “I wish I could buy this beach. I wish it was just ours, no people around. Then I could show you just how much I missed you”.

“Shoyo!”, you click your tongue in disapproval.

His gaze softens, genuine affection oozing from a stare so sincere it makes your heart flutter. “I’d buy you this beach if I could. All the beaches. Hell, the entire country. You know that, right? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I’d buy you the planet, the entire world, then break the news to everyone else. Too bad, guys, you have to leave! It’s ours now”.

“You’re so silly”, despite the smile, there’s a tiny quiver to your voice and you hope to fuck you don’t burst out crying in the middle of the atlantic ocean just because your boyfriend is in love with you. He means it, you know he does. If someone told him there was a way to buy the planet for you, he’d actually do it. Hinata says what’s on his mind at all times, never been one to lie or exaggerate: he’s just like that, hand-on-heart honest.

“Yeah. And I love you. Please don’t forget that or I’m gonna have to purchase the earth”, his grin is infectious and you can’t help but mirror it as you run a hand through his hair, dampening the shorter bangs into a darker burnt sienna.

“Don’t need it. I have you, you’re already my world”, the second the words fall from your lips you gag so loudly a few tourists turn to look, Shoyo’s mirthful laughter filling your ears and heart. “God, I was never this corny. Look what you turned me into, I think I’m gonna be sick”, your grimace is adorable to him and, judging by the pinkish hue emerging on tanned skin and among freckles, he’s not exactly opposed to sappiness.

“I think you should kiss me”, Shoyo mumbles, but it’s a formality really, because his hand leaves your face cold as he pulls you into a breathless kiss by the back of your head. It’s not entirely appropriate to kiss like that with people around but he chases you whenever you try to pull back, determination burning fiercely as he keeps you pressed against his body.

It feels more than perfect. It feels whole. It feels like everything he’ll ever need.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: This museum's been around for 100 years, huh～ Bet there'll be a ton of things to look at! Let's enjoy this together!

Summon Line: I'll just upload a pic of the outside of the building with the tags #ImASupporterNow and #MuseumPR... Perf, now it's posted!

Groooovy!!: Poor thing, adrift in a bottle～ Well, guess that's whatcha get.

Home: A 100th anniversary is pretty rad, huh?

Home Idle 1: From what I hear, the country ruled by the Queen of Hearts was super photogenic. My dorm's gotta make sure we live up to that!

Home Idle 2: Jamil-kun looked kinda faint looking at that golden scarab painting...

Home Idle 3: No flash photography inside the museum, huh. I'll have to be careful when I'm taking pics～ I should change the setting now before I forget.

Home Idle - Login: I always thought museums were pretty stuffy, but this is actually pretty fun. The building's got some character, so it might actually be a pretty good photo spot ♪

Home Idle - Groovy: Checkin' out paintings with someone's pretty fun because of all the conversation possibilities. It was pretty fun being able to chat with Ruggie-kun about makeup.

Home Tap 1: How well do I do in art class? My professor usually says I have a good eye for composition and color sense ☆

Home Tap 2: Look at the miniature Great Seven on these stickers! They're so cute I had to buy them. Maybe I'll stick them on my guitar case.

Home Tap 3: The Thorn Fairy's men were all dancing around the fire, huh. I wonder if Briar Valley has some kind of similar tradition. I should ask Malleus-kun.

Home Tap 4: Jack-kun says he is drawn to the painting where the King of Beasts is looking real regal. I think I like the one where he's relaxin' more～

Home Tap 5: Why're you just staring me down like that...? Ooh, did seeing your boy Cay-kun all serious about the exhibits captivate you? Ahaha, jk, jk!

Home Tap - Groovy: Ta-daa! Heeeere's Cay-kun in all his formal getup! Since we're both dressed to the nines, let's grab a selfie together ♪ C'mon, come and stand next to me!

Duo: [CATER]: Ruggie-kun, you gotta help me make this shot count! [RUGGIE]: Cater-san, please put away your phone!

Birthday Login Message: A little quiz for you, [Yuu]-chan! What do you think is Cay-kun's lucky charm for today? The answer is... a present! The more I get, the happier I'll be, my horoscope says～ That's why I'm on the lookout for people who might have presents for me. Are you that someone, [Yuu]-chan～?

Requested by @farfalla049.

[menofchaos]

Coco

Note: Third time I'm trying to send this out! I missed sleep to write this, which usually means it'll end up being one of my favorites like the Vegas story. I do have more of this written, so please let me know if anyone would be interested! This is the first installment of Coco x museum! reader. Picture credit goes to @richardcabralofficial on ig & divider credit goes to @spideyspeaches. Enjoy!

Coco lit a cigarette as he walked down the sunny streets of downtown San Diego, Angel and Gilly planning their evening of bar hopping. They decided to head down to the beach for a long weekend, a getaway from the pressures of Santo Padre.

“Damn, that’s a big ass building.”

“Ain’t this the museum you wanted to go to?” Angel asked.

EZ nodded, “Yeah at some point. You guys don’t have to come in.”

The four of them turned down the street toward the entrance and Gilly laughed, “Oh I’m definitely going.”

Angel frowned, “You wanna go to a museum? You good, homie?”

“If all the chicks in the museum look like that? Fuck yeah, I do,” he scoffed and nodded over at the museum steps.

They all looked up to see two men in suits talking to a woman, her long curly hair flowing gently in the wind as she laughed. Coco’s eyes widened when he saw ink covering her throat, bright acrylics on her tattooed hands. His eyes followed her curves, covered up by her professional attire. He licked his lips when he heard Angel mumble, “Damn.”

EZ shook his head, “I didn’t mean we had to go now.”

“What better time than the present, boy scout?” Gilly smirked, “You guys in?”

Angel looked over at Coco, who shrugged, “Why not?”

“Alright,” Gilly clapped, “Think she dresses like that all the time?”

“She’s way out of your league,” Angel snorted, shaking his head as they crossed the street.

“You think you have a better chance?” Gilly arched an eyebrow.

Coco laughed, “You two gonna bet again? Since it went so well last time.”

Both men glared at him before going back to arguing over who would ask her out. The men in suits walked away and the woman turned to see the four of them heading up the stairs.

“Welcome,” she smiled and opened the door, “Ticket counter is to your left, let me know if you have any questions about the exhibits.”

Gilly looked her over slowly, “Thanks mami. I do have a question. Are you the exhibit?”

She laughed politely, “No, I’m not.”

“Too bad, I can’t stop staring,” he winked, heading inside. 

“All these artifacts and I can’t take my eyes off you,” Angel smirked and followed him in.

EZ shook his head, “I’m sorry about them, it’s their first day in public.”

Coco took off his sunglasses as she laughed, “It’s all good, I’ve heard worse,” she closed the door behind them, “Enjoy the museum,” she winked at Coco before a younger employee called her over.

Coco watched her walk off, hips swaying. Gilly and Angel were still quietly bickering over her. While they were distracted, he took a few steps toward where she stood with another woman wearing a regular museum uniform. The woman went into the exhibit and she turned to Coco.

“Can I help you?” she asked him.

“Just wanted to apologize again for my brothers,” he told her, “They’re harmless.”

She smiled, “That’s sweet, thank you. Like I said, I’ve had way worse pick up lines than that. I was a little bummed I didn’t hear one from you, though,” she admitted.

Coco’s eyes widened and he smiled, “Oh yeah?”

She nodded, “See if it was more original than your brothers,” she teased.

He laughed softly, “They didn’t exactly get creative, did they?”

“No but at least they didn’t say they’d nail me to the wall,” she shivered slightly in disgust, “That one grosses me out.”

He shook his head, “I wouldn’t have let them get away with that one.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Coco,” he held a hand out to her, “Yours?”

She introduced herself and shook his hand, “I guess you wouldn’t let them get away with that, would you, boogeyman?”

His eyes lit up, “You know that story?”

She smiled, “Of course,” she scanned the patches on his leather. Coco held his breath for a moment, waiting for her to dismiss him, “Santo Padre? What brings you to San Diego?”

“We wanted to get out of the desert for a few days,” he murmured, “Hang out at the beach.”

“That’s why I live here, so I can be on the beach whenever,” she smiled, “How long are you in town for?”

“Till Tuesday,” he bit his lip, willing his heart to slow down.

She nodded, holding his gaze for a moment, “So, you got a line?”

He shook his head, “No lines,” he licked his lips, “But I’d love to take you out later.”

She smiled, “I can’t tonight but I’ll take your number and call you tomorrow?” she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

Coco recited his number to her, smirking when he glanced over to see Gilly and Angel glaring at him. She nodded, “I’ll see you soon?” she took a few steps back, smiling.

“See you soon,” he smiled slowly, his eyes on hers.

She giggled and turned down a hallway, out of his sight. He rejoined the other guys.

“What just happened?” Angel asked, “You get her number?”

He shook his head, “Gave her mine. Thanks for making me look good,” he smirked as EZ handed him a ticket, “Thanks, bro.”

“Motherfucker,” Gilly swore, “You’re such a dick.”

After the museum, the four of them headed to dinner, then a bar on the beach. They stood around a pool table, EZ and Angel against Coco and Gilly.

“I still can’t believe you snaked her from me,” Gilly shook his head.

“You don’t have a claim on her, homie,” he smirked, taking a sip of beer.

“You come on too aggressive, bro,” Angel said.

EZ snorted, “You weren’t much better.”

Angel scoffed, “I wasn’t as bad as him!”

“All I did was give her my number,” Coco watched Gilly take his turn, “It’s not like I stole your girlfriend or some shit.”

Coco was in the middle of his turn when a loud cheer erupted behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a high top all holding their drinks up, laughing.

“Wait, isn’t that her?”

Coco grinned when he saw her sitting at the high top, a pink margarita in her hand and a relaxed smile on her face. She caught his gaze and she smiled wider, waving at him. He held up a finger, turning back to finish his turn, “It is.”

He sunk two balls and missed the third, setting his cue down when he heard, “Lord have mercy. Look at that.”

All thought left his mind when he saw her heading toward him. She had forgone her professional attire, a longer asymmetrical skirt with a button up and blazer, for a tight black and white dress that hit mid thigh. Her long curled were tied up in a ponytail, two braids nestled among the strands. Her darker lipstick made him want to smear it.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hey,” he murmured, “You look beautiful.”

She giggled shyly, “Thank you. This is a coincidence.”

“Your plans for the night?” he asked, glancing at the table that was not so subtly spying on her.

She nodded, “College friends in town for the night. We’re going to the beach tomorrow before their flight leaves.”

Coco smirked, “We’re going to the beach too. The one down the road.”

“So are we,” she laughed, “Another coincidence.”

“Or fate,” he suggested, failing to keep himself from checking her out.

She felt butterflies under his gaze, “Could be. I gotta get back but how about this? If you find me at the beach tomorrow, you can take me out to dinner.”

His eyes lit up at the challenge. Between his military training and club antics, he knew he could meet it, “I’m down. See you tomorrow, ma.”

“See you tomorrow,” she kissed his cheek softly, walking back to her group. He couldn’t stop smirking the rest of the night.

Coco sat down on a lounge chair between Angel and Gilly, “Why the fuck do we stay in the desert when we could be here?” he asked as Angel passed him the blunt.

Angel laughed, “We should convince Alvarez to start a San Diego charter.”

“Coco just wants to be near his new girl,” Gilly opened a beer.

“You still bitching about that?” Coco arched an eyebrow, “How many chicks are out here, go pick up one up if you got that much game.”

“Oh now you got game?” Gilly asked, “With that crooked ass nose.”

Coco passed the blunt to EZ, retort on his tongue when his phone lit up with an unknown number. He opened it to find a picture of her smiling, sunglasses covering her eyes and her long hair tied up in a messy bun. He could only see from her shoulders up, a table with beer pong set up in the background. It was accompanied by a text.

I’m here! Ready for your mission?

He smirked, typing out, ‘Mission accepted’ before standing up, “Well you fuckers can keep playing with each other, I’m going to get a date.”

EZ grinned, “Good luck, bro.”

Coco fist bumped him, “Good luck with these two,” he joked and grabbed his phone and cigarettes, sliding his sunglasses on as he walked up to the top of the sand. He remembered the size of her group the night before and knew they wouldn’t be that hard to spot. He checked the picture again, his heart skipping a beat at her smile. Another text came in as he tried to study the background for clues.

No clues but I do have a drink waiting for you

He noticed rocks behind her and scanned the beach, grinning when he saw a cliff to his left. He walked down to the water, taking his time to smoke a cigarette as he made his way over. A large blue canopy with a long table under it was set up next to the cliff, coolers and bags scattered around towels and blankets set up on the ground. He swore under his breath when he spotted her in nothing but a black and green two piece, a drink in each hand. Tattoos covered both arms and curled around her long legs, a few on her back and sides. She was talking to two other women, one in a pink one piece and the other covered by an oversized white t shirt and men’s swimming trunks. Four guys stood at either end of the beer pong table in different colored bathing suits. He walked up, ignoring the looks the guys gave him as he tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and grinned.

“Coco!” she leaned in to kiss his cheek, “That didn’t take nearly as long as I expected.”

He laughed, “I was a Marine, baby.”

“That’s not fair,” she pouted, “Here’s a beer if you want it. Let me introduce you to everyone,” she offered him the bottle.

“Sure, thank you,” he took it and followed her around the tent, shaking hands with everyone. They all went to college together, getting picked up and invited in by others in the friend group. They used to be a bigger group, she explained, but fights, moves and break ups splintered the group until it was the remaining seven of them. She hung back with him as the guys kept playing, one white boy, Dan or Dave or something, glancing at him often with a glare.

“Your friend in the green doesn’t like me that much,” he teased a few minutes later.

She looked over at the canopy and sighed, “He claims he’s protective, but he’s not like that about anyone else. He’s just one of those white knight guys.”

“White knight guys?” he frowned.

“Yeah, if I do something he thinks could hurt me, he acts concerned for my well being but he just has feelings for me and gets jealous,,” she explained, “He did the same thing in college when he found out I was dancing.”

He arched an eyebrow, “Dancing?”

She nodded, looking up at him, “I didn’t come from a good family or anything, so I had to pay my own way through college. I got some scholarships but it didn’t cover everything so I started stripping to help pay my bills and shit,” he watched her as she spoke, knowing this was a test of his reaction.

“That’s smart, you probably made bank,” he winked.

A  smile lit up her face, satisfied in his response, “You know I did. No student loans for me.”

White Knight Dan/Dave called her over for her turn but she declined, telling him she’d play later. His disappointment was visible, tossing another glare Coco’s way as he went back to the game.

Coco smirked, “Damn, I’m making all kinds of enemies talking to you.”

She took a sip of her beer, “Who else?”

“My homie’s still mad,” he laughed.

“Tell him if he can find it in his heart to forgive you, I have a bunch of hot, single friends I can introduce him to,” she offered.

He laughed softly, “That might do it, thanks mami.”

[oneshlut]

Hey!! I absolutely ADORE your writing, it makes me so happy!!! I happen to be a sucker for our favorite nerd, and you write super good for him! May i ask for general datting headcanons? Like what its like to date him???? Thank you!!!<3

A/N: ohhh, i was WAITING for this one!! i loveee dating hcs. i'm assuming you mean dr. flug, in which i am always happy to write for him! thank you so much for the request! im so happy you enjoy my works!! c: (also flug may be just a teensy bit autism-coded...)

The Doctor Is Out (Dr. Flug x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General Dr. Flug dating headcanons/What is dating Dr. Flug like?

You thought he was a nervous wreck before? You've never seen him on a date. Before a date, for that matter.

After asking you out to a museum that recently opened outside the Hat Island, he dragged himself to his room and.. screamed into his pillow. Leaving 5.0.5. decently concerned.

He paced around his lab, wracked with anxiety. Oh god, oh god--what is he going to do?! Did he still look alright?? He paused his anxious strides to look at himself in his full-body mirror that he practically pulled out of nowhere. I guess he looked alright-? Or did he need to change his shirt again? Oh--crap he should probably take off his gloves.. or should he? He's always had normally sweaty hands, not including his nerves getting the best of him.. Yeah, the gloves are staying on.

Not to mention how Demencia is teasing him every minute she gets while Flug is writing out a plan. Yeah, you heard me right, this faceless man has an entire 24-step written plan for this date. He can't go without a plan, right? He doesn't want to mess up in front of you, either..

Some ridiculous, unreasonable, irrational part of him thinks maybe you won't show up. Obviously, he doesn't know any better to know how much you love him. Then again, if he knew, I don't think he'd last.

The museum went way better than he expected! There just happened to be a jet plane exhibit, and suddenly his 24-step plan has made its way to a nearby trash can. Don't get me wrong, his nerves were definitely still there, and not going anywhere anytime soon. He was just glad that he didn't draw you away with his possibly unending rambling about different types of aircraft.

The two of you stayed in the museum until it closed at 4 p.m. The time seemed to fly by, and at some point during the date you had held his hand. Poor Flug was too distracted, that he only noticed your interlocked hands when the both of you were leaving the building. He's blushing like a maniac now. As if the red tint on his face couldn't get any worse, before you left, you kissed him on his cheek. You kissed him on his cheek. His bones turned to ice, frozen in place. Later that night, he couldn't get his mind off of you. He's not washing his bag for a while. Not like he washed it in the first place.

So, you two are dating! In a relationship! Dr. Flug refuses to believe it, but every morning kinda forces him to. Though, sometimes he gets a bit overwhelmed with the attention, so when this happens, you give him the day to compose himself again.

He's happy with the attention, though! More than happy, he's honestly never received such affection before and.. he enjoys it.

Some days, you'll just have hang-out dates! For example, Dr. Flug is undergoing a heavy project and asks you to come over for comfort. He'll even ask you for help with his experiments from time to time! Don't worry, he wouldn't involve you in anything too dangerous, he's not cruel. Well, not to you..

If we're talking about Dr. Flug here, at least one date has to go wrong. Thankfully, it's almost never his fault. He's, unfortunately, slightly popular with heroes. Not that he, himself, as a villain is popular, but rather him being known under the Blackhat name has drawn in some unwanted attention from heroes.

What does this mean for the two of you? Well, worst case scenario, a hero has such a huge grudge against Flug that they are determined to ruin your date. According to Dr. Flug, there's only a 1.117% chance of this happening, so you shouldn't have to worry too much.

Afterwards, he feels horrible that your date went to crap. He apologizes profusely, even if you forgive him in the first place, he'll continue to feel bad. All he wants is for you to be happy, and it feels like he's failed you. But the fact that you're still here with him is more than enough proof that you're far from giving up on him, if ever.

On days where you would stay inside with him, whether it be a stormy night or just a long day for you, sometimes he'd turn around from whatever he was working on when you don't respond to him, and he'll find you resting peacefully next to 5.0.5. The sight warms his heart, as he moves to grab a blanket for you, and dims the lights in his lab slightly.

With you asleep, and now with him and nothing to work on, he now has time to think. And for some reason, no thoughts come to him. Surprising to his usually busy brain.

One thought came to him, eventually. Watching you rest soundly in the now dim-lighted room, your chest lifting up and down with your soft breaths, made him realize how lucky he truly is.

Then, he came up with an idea. He didn't want your dreaming to be disturbed, did he? He grabbed a piece of notepaper, tape, and a marker. Opening his door slightly, he taped up the scratch-made sign titled:

"The Doctor is Out"

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 5: I Can't Go On Without You

📜.... I'm sorry... it's getting angsty in here... you guys aren't going to like someone after this...

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, and pranks.

#4.8 k words

Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6

Remember that tiny feeling of guilt building in the pit of your stomach? For doing something as simple as switching sugar for salt for Jake's coffee? 

Yeah. It got worse. 

Worse, as in it was eating your stomach alive. Worse, as in, your heart was leaping out of your chest. Worse, as in you wondered what the rest of the group thought about you or if they had caught on, such as Nat and Cora had done.

All because that asshole stayed silent the entire time you were leading the group to the waterfall.

It's not as if he didn't try to approach you - He did, or at least tried to. Every time you saw him coming, you'd either take Nat or Cora by the arm to start a conversation. Or you'd engage Bob in a talk about what artifact or item he was currently working on at the museum. The man loved to talk about his work, and you were all too happy to indulge him, regardless of whether it got you out of a confrontation with Seresin.

I guess you could say it was your guilt that wanted to keep you away from him.

But with the lack of heckling or hollering you've come to suspect from him, you honestly thought he'd at least try to keep up that facade. Hassle you over the map or something to do with the compass. Maybe even cause a fight when it came time to switch to a new trail marker.

You did it to him. You could only assume he'd do it to you. Even with his view at the back of the pack, the same spot you had taken to the past two days, he didn't. He only spoke when he was spoken to.

It was making everything that much worse.

As the group rounded the final bend on the trail, all of you could hear the sound of rushing water. Everyone perked up, seemingly finding a new energy and pace, eager now more than ever to finally see one of the sights that made this place so popular.

The moment the falls came into view, a collective gasp swept through the group.

Despite the clouds above, heavy with the promise of rain, the two twin waterfalls were breathtaking, one higher up than the other lower, both situated on their own angles. The water itself shimmered, cascading down the rocky cliffside into the pool below into a thousand shades of blue, and the sound was enough to mute the conversations of the other hikers. The surrounding forest was lush and green, making it a scene of pure, unspoiled wilderness.

You wanted to paint this place. The way the water fell over the rocks and how the two falls shone the light—the green in the trees - even the dirt and mud—the fact you couldn't hurt more than you could fathom.

You flexed your hand, the bandage tightening around your wrist. 

If you couldn't experience why you wanted to be here, you'd at least try to find joy in how happy your friends were to be here instead.

Dropping your bags down against a nearby tree after everyone else did the same, like a silent observer, you hung back on the outskirts of the group, trying to find some semblance of joy as everyone had their moment.

Cora, Grace and Nat laughed as they shed their clothing and jumped into the water. Mickey followed soon after, canon balling close enough to the girls so they might get splashed. Bob was trying to spot the fish and the rocks, hoping to find a mineral or two. Bradley merely stood still, watching Nat with loving eyes, and Rueben and Javy took the chance to sit and stretch their legs.

But Jessica and Veronica, in particular, stood out the most. With their faces full of makeup, seemingly more prepared for a photoshoot than a peaceful day at a waterfall. They spent that entire last break applying layer after layer, pluckering their lips with lip gloss into the screens of their phones. They were posed and preened by the water's edge, a view that had a complementary angle to both falls in the background.

Only you would notice the stark contrast between their carefully curated appearances and the natural beauty that surrounded them.

It's not worth something unless someone can get a photo out of it, right?

As you wandered away from your spot, you caught snippets of a video the two were filming. They spoke loud enough to cover the roar of the water, but it also appeared as if the two were trying to rally the attention of the other hikers and campers - as if, by some miracle, whatever they were doing or clearly saying would gather some attention.

They didn't mention names, not that you heard yet, but with the explicit references to 'someone's antics and attitude' at a campsite, you knew it only had to be you. 

"I mean, it's just so petty, right? But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stoop to that level. Moving on and forgetting is better, right?" Jessica explained to her phone.

You rolled your eyes. They thrived on drama and the need for attention. And no matter what story they chose to share, they could have taken shit, disguised it as pecan pie, and people they had ever met before in person would still eat it and call it great. 

 While it hurt on some level, you didn't value their opinion. Never had or will. It's what made you so carefree in levelling their attacks with remarks of your own. 

The sun would still set, and you would still go on about your life long after this trip, without either of them ever having touched one influence of your life, should you have any real control over the matter.

No matter what, people like Jessica and Veronica would always find something to criticize or mock.

And standing here, in a beautiful park, they were on their phones, too wrapped up in their superficial social media world, informing people on the internet about every facet of their lives to experience what life had to offer.

There's more to life than the two-faced nature that is the internet.

Having felt dumb for even watching them, your gaze finally landed on Jake. He was kneeling, staring down at his own reflection in the water, lost to the rest of the world around him.

Why did he try to approach you? Why did he stay quiet? Why did he defend you against Jessica's words? Could you go as far as to say it was guilt-shadowing his usual cocky confidence?

In your mind, Jake was still the quintessential jock, the privileged rich kid with an air of frat-boy arrogance, someone who found amusement in driving you up the wall. 

He didn't deserve your sympathy, nor did he deserve to feel guilty—if indeed he did—because, in your eyes, he had always been the one taking pleasure in causing pain, not the other way around. If guilt was indeed the cause of his actions, a part of you fiercely rejected the idea that he deserved to feel that way. Despite everything, you couldn't reconcile the boy who had once hurt you with the man reflecting on his reflection, showing hints of vulnerability.

Shoving your hand into your pocket, you let out a hiss when something sharp poked your skin. You pulled the object out, looking down into the palm of your hand to see the stowaway fish hook from Jake's bag.

Grace let out a scream as Mickey splashed some water in her direction and Cora's faces. You lifted your head at the sound. You watched them for a few seconds as your hand closed over the piece of metal. That was until your eyes drifted to rather large clumps of algae floating nearby.

Toying with the hook, a horrible, terrible idea began to take shape.

The urge to draw Jake out of his silence, to elicit some sort of reaction from him, became almost irresistible. You wanted to draw him out. You wanted to break through this silence. It wasn't like Jake to be this quiet, and honestly, it irked you more than his usual antics ever could.

He didn't deserve to feel guilty. Not when he didn't back then. 

You just hoped the asshole was afraid of snakes.

The task was slightly more challenging with your bandaged wrist, but you were determined. You scouted the area carefully and soon found what you needed – a flexible, skinny-looking stick. Making sure nobody was looking, you dipped one end into the water, collecting the green stuff before pulling it out, trying to resist the urge to gag.  After racing over to where you had left your bags, you dug through them to find the other object you had taken from Jake's fishing supplies that morning.  

After making sure the close was clear, and with one hand doing most of the work and the other providing clumsy support, you crafted your gathered materials into a makeshift but realistic-looking snake.

The trick was to make it move believably. You hastily attached one end of the fishing wire to the stick, creating a simple rig that would allow the faux snake to slither when tugged. The other end of the wire, now knotted to the fishing hook, was kept ready to be discreetly hooked onto your unsuspecting victim.

By the time you stood up and returned to your observation point, your prank hidden at your side, Veronica and Jessica had roped Jake into taking a group photo. Nat had been called into the fray, now out of the water and dressed, and then suddenly, she was shouting for you, Cora and Grace to join them.

With a casual smile, you approached the group, keenly aware of Jessica's subtle maneuvering with the camera, likely intending to edge you out of the frame. You didn't mind one bit, purposely settling next to Jake. It made for what you were about to do that much easier.

While pretending to adjust your position for the photo, you discreetly reached out with the wire and hook. It caught on to the edge of his sweater, and you let go, your grin widening as the girls counted down.

 Or, so you thought.

Once the photo had been taken and everyone had been satisfied with the result, Veronica stepped forward.

Then, she screamed.

You could only watch as she bolted forward, the fake snake you had rigged for Jake chasing her with each stride. In her panic, she didn't see the edge of the bank leading to the water, and she tumbled in with a loud, heavy splash.

The group erupted in a mix of shocked gasps and then laughter as Veronica finally emerged, wretched head to toe and makeup running down her face.  Even the rest of the tourists couldn't help but laugh, a few wondering a lot loud what happened. 

You watched, horrified she'd catch on to what you did, but you sighed in relief when Javy helped her from the water. The wire had come loose in the fall, effectively freeing you from the immediate blame that was surely meant to follow.

As everyone tried to convince her there wasn't a snake, you shot Cora a glance. Of course, she was already watching you with suspicious eyes, and of course, she had seen what you did, knowing just who exactly that prank was meant for. You could only give her a sheepish shrug, somehow acknowledging the unintended target of your prank.

But were you sorry for how that turned out?

Nope, absolutely not. Not one bit.

Basking in the relief of not being caught, you are blissfully unaware of Nat and her hardening expression, solely directed at you. Her eyes are narrowing with each breath, and her displeasure is evident to any on-looker brave enough to see.

She stepped forward, ready to call you out on your bullshit promise of not trying to pull anything else, when Jake suddenly looped his arm through hers, pulling her away and over to Rueben. 

It is then Bradley suddenly jumps and grabs you by the arm.

Using Veronica and the commotion as a distraction signals Jake and Rueben, who give him a hidden thumbs up in return. When you ask him what's wrong, Bradley only sushs you and pulls you away to a path nearby.

You let him guide you, following it down and then up a slight hill, one that stops at a mid-over look of both of the falls. It's surrounded by lush greenery and trees, and even on an edge, you couldn't see the rest of the tourists below.

It's perfect for what you suspect Bradley is about to do. After all, you and Nat were the ones who purposely picked this spot for him to take a hint and pop the question. And your thought is only confirmed when he lets go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out that tiny blue box.

"I'm going to do it," he blurts out, running his hand through his hair. "Right now. Jake and Reuben are leading her here."

You can't help but feel utter joy, smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt. "Bradley, she's going to be so happy!"

Bradley, however, looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. "I just... I need this to go right, Midge. I can't mess this up," he stammered, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered it down to his side. His eyes shot up to the path, and you could hear Nat's voice laughing at something as she unknowingly approached the two of you.

You took his hand into yours, letting it curve over his grip on the box, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Bradley, you've got this. Just remember to breathe, okay? Nat loves you, and this will be perfect because it's coming from you. Nothing else matters. Not the place, not everyone else. Just the two of you."

He forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag. When he finally seemed to regain his composure, he offered you a nod. "You're right... I just need to keep it together."

Letting go of his hand, you gave him a gentle pat on the back of his shoulder. "Go get her, you big chicken."

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, motioning for you to hide. You squealed in delight, running to take cover in a thick, overgrown bush. Natasha emerged from the path, Ruben and Jake trailing close behind and you crouched down in the overly dense bush and hidden from plain sight.

Reaching into your pants to grab your phone, you turned it on. You had been saving your remaining battery life for this, both you and Bradley knowing Nat would want pictures to remember the day, hence why he came and got you.

Once it was booted up, you unlocked it, peering over the bush as Bradley greeted Nat with a hesitant smile. Jake and Rueben side their arms out from where they had been looped against hers and sent her on her way. 

She went willingly, a soft and warm smile on her face as she pressed herself deep into Bradley's chest. As much as he tried to calm himself down, and as much as your words had somewhat helped, nothing could have helped him more than a hug from the person he loved the most. You could see the second the stress, the tension, and the worry seemed to evaporate from his body. He fell into her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Sliding forward, you held your phone between a gap in the brush. Watching them through the screen, you attempted to use your bad hand to try and zoom in for the right angle, the right depth of the two of them with the waterfalls in the back.

As they shared a soft laugh about something, you felt a surge of affection for the two of them. It was obvious there was no better couple and nobody else in the world better suited for either of them than each other.

All you've ever wanted was to see Nat happy, and in Bradley, she's found that happiness. It's a comforting, reassuring thought that brings a sense of peace to your heart amidst all the utter disaster that was this fucking trip.

"I know it was you who swapped my sugar this morning."

God, Fucking Damnit, Jake!

Titling your head back, there he was in all his fucking glory, standing above you with his hands on his hips like some middle-aged, snarky woman being cut out of line in a grocery store.

You want to scream. Nat and Bradley would merely have to twist back to see him standing there, in plain sight, in the middle of the forest, glaring down at you from behind the bush.

He was either denser than a fucking brick wall or simply decided, in a stroke of questionable judgment, this was the perfect moment to confront you over a petty prank.

"Get the fuck down, you idiot!" you whispered harshly. "They are going to see you!"

Swapping your phone into your injured hand and biting down on your lip as your wrist aches, you find a solid grip on his shirt, yanking him down toward the ground. Jake falls with a severe lack of grace, and you grimace, wondering if Nat or Bradley heard him.

You check through the gap, sighing in relief when you see they are standing with their backs towards the two of you, off admiring the waterfall. But with the relief came the turmoil, and the reality of your current predicament is blatantly obvious.

Jake is kneeling next to you in the dirt, the both of you behind a very small bush, while your best friends are getting engaged just on the other side. He's so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, and his eyes are pinning you down with his stare. Every visible piece of your skin is simply burning from his presence alone.

And the fact you can't leave. Neither can he. Not until Bradley has gotten down on one knee and Nat has answered that famous question with nothing but a joyful, happy yes.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

You could only roll your eyes and snort. "You don't say? I can only wonder why."

As you're unlocking your phone again and placing your phone back inside the bush, Jake leans forward to mummer in your ear. "I know that 'snake' on the fishing wire trick was supposed to be for me, too. You did a shit job of covering up your robbery heist."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jake trace his fingers over the palm of his other hand. Had you looked, you would have seen faint, red scratch marks marring his skin. 

You can't help but snicker at the memory of Veronica falling into the water and of her climbing out, looking like a drenched raccoon. "Can't say I'm disappointed it didn't happen to you."

News flash - You're not.

"Good to know I'm not the only one on your hit list."

"You are the list, asshole," you grumble under your breath.

Thinking he'd have some common sense and leave it at that, you lean forward, observing through your screen as Bradley discreetly reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out the box.

It's a stupidly optimistic thought.

"Can you just talk to me for once in your life?"

He never learns when to shut his trap, does he?

"Can you just shut up for two seconds?" you snap, not taking your eyes off your phone. "Bradley's purposing!"

"I'm sorry, Midge, Okay? I'm sorry for the bear trick. It wasn't supposed to go like that. I'm sorry you hurt your wrist. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

You shake your head. "Jake! Shut the fuck up!"

He frowned. "Why won't you let me apologize?!"

"Turn your fucking head and look Jackass." You gesture with your bandaged hand. "This isn't the time!"

He shifts in the dirt, drawing closer to you. "When is the time? Cause you've been running from me since we set out this morning. Actually, the entire trip so far."

"We're hiding in a bush, watching our two best friends get engaged. Of course, it's not the right fucking time!" you rush out in a single whispered breath.

"They are over there and can't hear us... I just need you to hear me out, Midge. I didn't mean for any of this to—"

"Seriously, Jake?" you hiss, finally taking your eyes off your phone as your patience wears thin. "Now is not the time."

But Jake is too caught up in his own need to clear the air to stop. And his voice grows louder despite the need for the utmost discretion.

"I just want to fix this, Midge! I hate that we're like this. I've always hated this! This thing we have going on, and I have no idea why!"

You couldn't help it when your voice suddenly boomed out, "You don't know why? Really? Let's start with that fucking mouth of yours!"

"Seriously?! You two couldn't can it for one fucking minute for this?!"

You slammed your eyes shut, wincing hard.

Fuck.

Nat's voice cut sharply through the air, her words laced with anger. "Get the fucking hell out here, the two of you! Now!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Reluctantly, Jake and you unfolded from your crouched positions. Your movements were hesitant as you both stepped out from the relative safety of the bush to face the weight of Nat's furious gaze.

Standing tall and with her shoulders squared, Nat was the epitome of fury. Her eyes could have melted steel, and each breath she took was measured, controlled, and laced with the increasing difficulty of maintaining her composure. She had yet to speak another word, but you knew.

She was barely holding it together, holding off the inevitable bomb that had been building up since she pulled you aside this morning.

But the worst thing you could have seen in this very moment? Bradley, still frozen mid-kneel, the expression on his face equal parts a mix of shock and heartbreak. And in his hand, grasped between two fingers, is Nat's ring - the one you helped to pick out.

You half expected him to shoot you a hateful glare, but he was only staring at Jake, coming to a stand and placing Nat's ring safely back within its box.

"What's so fucking wrong with the two of you?!"

You drew in a sharp, shaky breath. Nat continued to yell, first setting her wrath onto Jake as he let out an awkward cough.

"Jake, don't think you're innocent in all this!" she snapped. "Always egging her on, playing these stupid games. It's like you're both in some twisted competition to see who can be the most infuriating."

Her eyes bore into him, Jake obviously scared of her. She took a step forward and pointed to the ground. Bradley swung his arm out in front of her in fear she was on the verge of violence.

You were grateful. Nat would be capable of murder at this point.

"You could've been the bigger person, walked away, but no, you just had to keep it going. It's like you enjoy this drama. Well, congratulations, it's ruined a moment that was supposed to be about Bradley and me, not your petty feud!"

Jake ducked his head like a child getting scolded by a parent, his Adam's apple bobbing with his harsh swallow.

"And you!" she spun, now pointing her finger at you. You reeled back, scared at her snarl and the sheer rage she was projecting onto you, something you've never been on the receiving end of since you met her.

"I don't know what stick he's metaphorically shoved up your ass, Midge," she mocks your nickname in a deliberate tone, "but you need to get the fuck over it. How long has it been?!"

Your heart snaps. You are pretty sure it's been shattered, too.

"It's like one day you just woke up and decided he wasn't worthy of your attention! That he was too good for you!" Nat spins in frustration, running her fingers through the roots of her hair before she's back to unleashing her wrath onto you.

"Do you know we can't have proper get-togethers without the two of you causing some sort of scene?" she shrieks. "Here we were thinking that maybe, just maybe, forcing the two of you together for once in your life would get you to be fucking nice to him? Maybe they can communicate and figure their shit out. Maybe she won't run away every single time she fucking sees him."

"Nat..." Bradley tries to reason, turning to face her and trying to place his hand on her hip. She slaps his hand away, too far gone to care.

You know what, I was wrong! I was fucking wrong!” She threw her hands up in the air, letting them slap hard against her thighs as she let them fall. “You just can get your head out of your ass to realize this isn’t about you and your feelings and some selfish vendetta. It’s downright selfish, Midge!”

This is the reason why you've never told Nat - told any of them. Because what Jake said that faithful night is smacking you back in the face. Not that they didn't ever ask about it - they did - but because nobody would truly understand it.

They'd tell you it wasn't true. To not judge him for something he said in his youth. To grow up. To get over it. To give him a second chance or deep down, he secretly had a crush on you - as fucking if.

Or worse... Someone would confirm it.

Nat is confirming it. And for the four years you've been fighting against Jake, against the words he uttered to that girl in the bathroom of your college apartment, they meant nothing in this very moment.

The idea, Jake, was right after all struck like a blow to your chest, the weight, the force, sucking all the air from your lungs and replacing it with a heavy, undeniable truth.

"Having the both of you on this trip was a mistake," she mumbled angrily under her breath, shaking her head. With a swift, frustrated turn, she stormed off, each step pounding hard on the dirt trail.

You could no longer fight it. Tears overwhelmed the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall after years of running, finally allowing Jake the privilege of seeing the damage he caused and the death glare he damn well deserved.

"None of this," you seethed, pointing to Nat's retreating form, "would have happened had you not shut up the first time I told you to, Seresin."

Jake was visibly stunned, the shock in his eyes clear. "You can't honestly believe I wanted this to happen?!"

"You'd be pleased anyway it went regardless," You seeth. It's nothing but pure venom spilling from your lips, and Jake even finds himself taking a step back at the pure anger you're aiming toward him, only matched by Nat's previous rage.

You retreated towards a nearby tree, wiping the tears from your eyes as you laid your forehead against the bark, taking long, deep breaths. With sad eyes, Jake watched you go until there was shuffling in the dirt, and he spun, intercepting Bradley with an outstretched arm.

"Bradley... I didn't..."

"Just save it, man," Bradley replied dejectedly, slapping his arm out of the way as he dodged past. "There's nothing you could say that would make this better than what it already is."

He took off after Nat, his hand tightly clasped around the tiny blue box, and Jake couldn't do anything but grow roots into the ground, wondering how things went so incredibly wrong so incredibly fast.

Bradley had been coaching him on how to approach you. He thought last night, before those two showed up, there had been some progress. But now, standing amidst the aftermath of a failed proposal, Jake felt more lost than ever.

He knew he shouldn't have approached you while Bradley was down on one knee. The guilt he felt, even knowing how nervous he was about fucking it up, was incomparable. But you... you rebuffed him. Every single time he tried to approach you, you played the same damn game, and he felt like he was left without any other choice.

He just wanted to apologize to you before things got worse. Worse than you falling and hurting yourself because he couldn't man up and ask Jessica and Veronica to leave him alone.

There you were, crouching behind that bush, and he had the overwhelming urge to ask. And to say sorry that you had been hurt when he never intended for that in the first place. He just wanted to know why. Why did you so desperately hate him? Why, with every word, do you find fault with everything he did or would do?

But when Jake turned around to ask, you were already long gone, and he was left with nothing but the remnants of a failed proposal, Natasha's disappointment in the two of you, and the lasting impact of your anger.

Long may he rejoice in his ever-lasting ability to fuck things up further, especially when it came to you.  

So... who do we hate? Let me know 😅 (Not the writer, please not the writer)

Taglist:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15

@atarmychick007 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo

@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader

@halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30

Part 6 - Running up that hill - In progress

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Neighbor next door

Yandere Steven Grant x reader

A/N: This has some serious Basil Stitt vibes not gonna lie.

Category: Twisted Letter - I recommend you read the informations for twisted letters first ->here<- if you haven't already.

Dead dove do not eat - you'll get exactly what's in the tags!

Tags: yandere themes, stalking(?), Steven being a shy but sweet guy. :)

Hello Neighbour,

I'm sure you're wondering why I reach out to like that? You're currently not at home, but I will leave this note at your door so you see it when you come back.

I couldn't help but notice you since the day you moved in. And given the thin walls separating us two I almost always heard your front door open and close, so I guess you could say I was always aware of you.

You see, I have trouble sleeping, it ain't easy for me getting sleep, so I mostly stay up most nights. Yeah, it's a pain in the ass but I got used to it and it's now getting better.

Anyways, I always heard you leaving for work. Please don't think of me as a creep, oh god no. I even heard you talking to the other people living in this building, I have to say you got a cute laugh.

The following days I got curious about you, and even more when we two met eachother inside the elevator or just on the floor. I really started to like you...

You're just so kind to everybody, and to be honest you're beautiful too.

Remember that one day you accidentally dropped the flower vase? It was pure coincidence I was peeking through the peephole in my door after hearing the loud crash. I wanted so badly to help you, but other kind people came out from their apartments to help you.

The next day after work I came across the flower Store and saw the exact same vase you dropped. I bought it and I want to give it to you, I hope you don't mind. I'm a kind guy after all.

And before I forget, I often saw you at the Museum - I work there, at the gift shop. I'm Steven with a v.

I once saw you strolling around in the Ancient Egypt part, did you like it? Not to sound creepy and all that, I'm not a stalker! It's because I am studying Ancient Egypt, and I can offer you help if you want. If not that's completely fine with me of course.

Anyways, I realized you're often by yourself in your Apartment, and I was thinking maybe you want some company? I can order Pizza if you want to.

If you don't want it that's okay, really, but if you change your mind, I am always available for you. I just wanted to let you know I like you, really like you.

I know, it sounds crazy that I already like you really much, but I can't help, something in my head just made click.

Anyways, laters gaters! I mean- if you're interested in the meeting and the Pizza? I wouldn't want to rush you.

It's your choice after all.

--Steven Grant, your neighbour next door

[frostedshore]

welcome to the hood i'm currently playing! i used @kestrelteens westbrook cove & moved the deco buildings around to suit my preferences.

Meet Rio Tanaka, fortune sim, he owns the local sushi bar & i'm actually having so much fun running a restaurant in ts2. it is hard because he doesn't have any employee (i'm insane i know) so he needs to be the host, the server, and the chef. but because my hood is so small it's manageable to do all of that and I like the chaos lol. at the front of the restaurant he also have a sushi stand so he also works as the cashier & check out sims that orders take outs💀

Meet Clio Delicate, family sim. She's the prettiest (and the first!) sim i made in ts2. Anyways Clio is my too cool for this neigborhood sim. She paints (bc I wanna see all sims 2 paintings) as a hobby and later in her life i want to make her own an art gallery (which will be the hood's museum). Right now she just works as an artist though.

Clio is sooo messy bc she autonomously have TWO love interests while i was playing with my other sims. When I was playing with the town's baker, which i will introduce later, Clio autonomously kiss this random ass townie named Daryl that spawned in my game

I was so shook but also happy for her bc I want to make a couple & family as soon as possible in my hood bc i moved in a bunch of single sims. BUT THEN once i play Clio's household bc I wanna know the drama between her and Daryl, SHE AUTONOMOUSLY WOOHOO WITH RIO

uhm... clio, this is awkward. Your OTHER love interest is standing RIGHT THERE😭😭😭

I guess it's pretty clear now who Clio will end up with. Although Clio is more attracted to Daryl R.I.P. But because this is my FIRST hood drama, I will make Daryl move into my hood, give him a teeny nose job, and let him roam around for the sake of drama.

In conclusion, Sims 2 is so freaking scary. Anything can happen when you're not playing with your sims. But that's why I like it :3

Next

[immamirr0rball]

scott street

say you loved me - chapter one

a spencer reid series

"anyway, don't be, a stranger…"

After weeks of work upon work, Spencer had finally gotten a weekend off. He had chosen to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Walking swiftly up the white stairs, he entered the building, readjusting his tie as he stood in awe of the art around him.

Spencer observed various statues and paintings as he browsed through the Met, resisting the urge to ramble off acts to every person he crossed paths with. Walking down hallways, and into large rooms, Spencer eventually landed in front of the Water-Lily Pond, a beautiful Claude Monet painting he had been wanting to see for years. He stood, observing the beautiful painting, in awe of its brilliance.

That's when he heard it.

A laugh.

Faint, but one he could never forget.

It was sweet, almost saccharine. Real, and passionate, and entirely enchanting.

He could get high from that laugh alone.

Spencer turned around as fast as his body would allow, moving before he could even think. And he saw her. Her now darker blonde hair reaching her shoulders, where it used to hit her lower back. Red ballet flats replacing her worn out Dr. Martens. Light bronzy shadow over her eyelids where dark eyeliner was once drawn on.

But it was her. Josephine. Standing there laughing with a friend, her nose scrunching the way it always had.

Josephine.

Before he could stop himself, Spencer sped walked towards her, landing behind her back. Her friend gestured, and Josephine turned around.

And she saw him.

"Spencer?" Josephine said softly as soon as she registered his face.

"Yeah," He nodded. "I…hi."

Josephine smiled at his familiar awkwardness. "Hi." For a moment they stood still in time. Gawking at each other and reveling in it all. Recalling what had once been. What should've been. Josephine mumbled to her friend to quickly excuse herself as she walked with Spencer a few feet away. "What are you doing here?"

"I got a weekend off at work. There are a few artworks here i've always wanted to see, so I thought I might as well take my chance. I work in the FBI, the Behavior Analysis Unit so I don't usually get many-"

"I know." Josephine cut him off. "I mean, I remember you wanting to join the BAU." Her eyebrows furrowed as she examined his familiar and new features. His glasses gone, but his lanky movements still ever so present. His face was older, with more wrinkles and less baby fat, but still Spencer's. She looked down at his shoes and laughed.

"What?" He softly questioned.

Another small giggle left her as she answered. "You still wear converse." The odd look on his face stayed. "I don't know, I guess it's nice to see that some things never change."

His lips slightly parted, but closed again as he looked at her. Her freckles still scattered over her nose. The blush-like red lipstick she still applied every morning. She was brushing her bangs out of her face like she always did. "Yeah," Spencer nodded.

Josephine stared, at his eyes, his bone structure, before realizing what she was doing. "Look," She spoke quickly to recover. "I should go, me and my friend are planning on having lunch. But um, we could meet up, while you're still in town?" Josephine bit her lip after she spoke, gently reminding Spencer of her old habits.

Spencer nodded, still in awe as he responded. "Yeah, I'll call you." His eyes were still wide. He couldn't help the lopsided grin slowly covering his face.

Josephine began to walk away, before she realized. "Wait," She turned around. "You don't have my number."

Spencer let out a small laugh. "I'm in the FBI, I'll figure it out." His mouth pressed into the line she had seen a thousand times.

Josephine rolled her eyes as she turned around and walked away. Losing the battle of resisting the smile on her face.

Spencer hesitated, before calling out one last thing. "Don't be a stranger, Josephine."

She paused her walking, and continued. The smile on her face slowly turning bittersweet.

"Okay." Whether it was to him, or to her, she wasn't sure.

[hopefullyitsextensivebule]

Plus One { J.T.K X Reader }

Pairing: Jake Kiskza x Reader 

Writer’s Whining: Already hitting with the curve balls; I like it! Anon requested a possessive Jake smut. This is a slow build-up because I wanna give it some content before we get into the shit. This is also my first fanfic, so please, if I need to improve. I implore you to correct me. Warnings: Smut, Spanking/Smacking, Spitting, Unprotected Sex (No Glove, No Love) Minors DO NOT ENTER Word Count: 2K+

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It was no secret that you were the apple of Jake's eye.

Everyone saw how his eyes lit up every time you walked into a room; like a moth to a flame, he couldn't help but be allured to your light, and only wanting to be near it gave him ease. Since you were introduced to the group by a mutual friend, the guitarist and you shared a bond. It was refreshing since you have dealt with pricks left and right, but he didn't want anything from you, at least from what you saw on the surface.

It was the evening, and the venue was bustling. An old college friend of yours was celebrated for his glass ceramics getting into a city's permanent collection at a well-known museum. It was a momentous occasion; you were invited and could even bring a plus one. You wore a nice black dress and some heels but were still vertically challenged. People had greeted you, along with the star of the evening. 

"Eli! How are you?" you ask, hugging the male and pulling away quickly.

"I'll tell ya, Y/N, it feels good," the male said. He was a tall fellow with a short hairdo and an angled nose, nonetheless easy on the eyes. "Thank you so much for coming; I appreciate it."

"Are you kidding me? And miss this wonderful evening, I would never," you say, happy to be called upon such an occasion, "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you…" he said with a glint of humility, "And what about you? How's life for you going these days?" 

"It's good," you said, looking at your phone and showing a bit of worry, "it's all good."

"Waiting for someone, aren't you?" he asked, "a date, I presume?"

You scoffed at the assumption and playfully smacked the man on his chest, "stop it. You know I don't deal with bozos anymore. I'm all about me as of right now," you said proudly.

"That's nice, but wouldn't you want someone else to be all about you, too?" Eli asked, holding your shoulder, "You're always stressed and trying to be the do-it-all girl, but someone needs to love on you. You know what I mean?"

"I'm sorry, I thought this evening was about you," you jeered, sarcasm a default in your personality. 

"You know I'm right," he teased, "now, whoever this person is is not worth your time."

And just like that, another party guest came through the doors. He wore a felt hat, a vintage pirate coin pendant decorating his neck, and sunglasses to finish his bust. You immediately knew your plus one had arrived by the comments and the smell of Dior's Sauvage filling the room. 

"Jake," you said as if his name was a breath of fresh air. “You came."

"You told me to come, so I came, love," Jake said, walking up to you and giving you a hug, to which you returned it with much enthusiasm. You pull away, seeing the tiniest hint of a smile behind those shades. 

Eli had cleared his throat, having caught your attention and Jake's. "And who is this handsome young man?" he asked, your cheeks turning red from the question.

"I'm Jake Kiskza," he said, offering his hand, Eli taking it and shaking it. "I'm guessing you're the artist of the night. Congratulations."

"Why, thank you. I see you're a friend to our sweet Y/N," he pushed; you have to hide your face from the embarrassment.

"Yes, I am," Jake stated firmly, a protective arm around you and even pulling you close to make the statement clear to the gentlemen, "a special friend." You nudged Jake on his side, trying to keep him at ease. He always did this, trying to size up on any guy that spoke to you, much less breathed the same particles in the air as you. 

"Is that so," Eli said, interested in getting to the tea. "Do tell me more."

"I would, but for tonight I'm here for Y/N, respectfully speaking," Jake said, his hand going down to your hip and feeling his thumb caress your side to keep you calm, knowing a fire had burned inside, and not for a good reason. 

"See you," Eli said before dismissing himself, leaving you and Jake alone in a room full of people. Chastened, you part from Jake and scoff, Jake, throwing his hands up and following you. You find an unused lounge room where you sit and scowl in the venue. 

Jake was right at your coattails, standing in from of you and having his thumb in the loop of his pants. "What's the matter with you?" he asked, sounding more accusatory than empathetic.

"Don't play dumb with me. You know what you were doing just now," you snap at Jake.

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you mean, Y/N," Jake said coyly, "be a good girl for me and do elaborate."

You stood up to Jake, snatching off his sunglasses and, chest out and ready to rumble, "Every time a guy talks to me, you come around and act as you own me. It never fails." Jake raised an eyebrow as you stood so close to him. "We're not dating, and you think you can act this way. Honestly, I don't know why I invite you to places."

"Watch that mouth of yours, little girl. Wouldn't want to punish it," he told you, chuckling a bit. 

You gasped in shock, "are you serious? Are you shitting me right now? I'm having a serious conversation with you, and you're trying to play up your sick daddy kink?"

"I am serious," Jake said, walking up towards you, forcing you to walk backward and leaving you no choice but to surrender down on the velvet material of the couch underneath you, "you know as well as I do that you belong to me. That you've always belonged to me. Every curve, every inch of that body belongs to me."

You sat there silent, your thighs pressing together to stop yourself from leaking. You were aroused by Jake speaking to you like this. You were no better than him. "S-Stop it…"

"No," he said shortly with you, "I'm not gonna stop because tonight, I'm going to show you who you belong to." 

You look up at him, feeling the apple of your cheeks swell up with blood and radiate heat as you see how close you two got. Jake sat down next to you, intimate and cozy, his hand on your thigh and his fingers trying to pry them over between. Your throat couldn't help but create a mewl, like a fearful yet anticipating whimper. It was as if you wanted it. 

And you did. 

By God, you did. You're pooling heat radiating like a pulsating heartbeat with a sting of a burn. "Come on, baby girl, you know you wanna give in, so why not do it," Jake said, trying to get you to cop out and give in to the game played. His fingers went up your thigh to find the pant of the underwear, searching for those shimmering folds. 

You gave in.

Your legs slowly but surely spring open, as if meant to be, and give him access to you. "Good girl," Jake had pushed the front of your underwear from under the fabric to make space for his work, the sound of shredding cotton making you jump. Jake didn't start gentle or soft. He had pressed his middle and ring finger deep into your wet and slick cunt and began to finger you and a moderately fast pace. Whimpers and curses escape your lips as Jake unleashes all his desire for you into your center. 

"Jake~," you say, your hips shifting height as you become overstimulated and restless. Just as he started, he quickly left, smacking your inner thighs and your vulva right. You let out a yelp and a curse.

"You call me daddy, understood?" Jake said, giving her another smack and teasing her hole. You push your hips off the couch, needing those broad fingertips using your heat. "Understood?"

"Yes… Daddy," you say with relief as you finally feel his back into you. You continued to give him a beautiful siren's serenade of moans and whimpers, his fingers stroking every wall of your center. 

It was like a dream to you. You never would have thought you'd become putty to a foolish man like Jake Kiszka. He was the same Jake that would pretend to be the British drunkard Oliver Reed. The same Jake would be offended but with the color purple. You couldn't comprehend it at all.

"Turn around," Jake ordered, holding himself up and skillfully removing his belt buckle with one hand. You stayed open for Jake, anticipating what you were working with. "I said turn around."

As if your life depended on it, you quickly did as told, getting on your knees and your elbows tucked underneath your chest and armrest of the couch. You presented yourself with your ass up and your face down. It was a sight to see, Jake showing his appreciation but slowly letting a sliver of spit drip onto your entrance. After a while, his fingers rubbed slow and steady circles around your clit and down at your desperate slit. A whine escaped your lips as the teasing and playing with your center made you restless. "Daddy…"

Jake leaned down to your face and kissed your sweet lips before parting, taking a good piece of your hair into his fist and pulling your head a bit, a yelp escaping you. You could hear him undo his zipper, your eyes looking around frantically as you didn't know how he looked.

You felt the head press into you, your mouth hanging open, and your eyes crossed as you felt him bottom out inside you.

"Jake!" You moan out, fingernails digging into the upholstery. A smack on your ass made you scream, Jake giving you his all.

"What's my name?" He asked as he held onto your hips and thrust into you at an unforgiving pace but still slowed to get you adjusted.

"Daddy—" you dragged as his thrusts changed the vibrations in your voice, a reaction to his hot movement. You felt his hand pull your hair up and have you flush against his clothed chest. "I'm yours, Daddy! And I always will be—"

He pulls out, leaving you aching for his member. He begins to maneuver your body and press you against the wall, your thighs cocked open. "And what do you think you're doing?" you ask, becoming bolder.

"I wanna see your face when you cum." He pressed himself back into you and began to thrust in and out of you. Jake pins against the wall of the lounge area. How dirty this was. Fucking in a lounge room while your peers drank and talked about art. You were having your body slammed into by your long-time friend, and you were enjoying it fucking so much.

"I'm gonna cum," you warned him, feeling your core build up to your release. His hand went to your neck, Jake leaning in to kiss you. And the both of you kissed hard, teeth clashing and tongues fighting to hold dominion over the other. You'd have swollen lips later, but it was worth it.

"Tell me whose pussy this belongs to?" Jake said against your lips, purposely slowing down to drive you insane. You whined, trying to push yourself down on his cock, wanting it. "Tell me, or else I'll leave you here looking ruined."

"You, daddy~" you moaned his moniker. And with that, Jake gave you exactly what you wanted. His mouth found itself right where your earlobe and jawline met, your moans getting louder. It was a blur between you two, his pelvis meeting yours at an unforgiving pace. Your fingernails tugged into the back of his tailored blazer and soon released a sharp yelp, having released on his cock.

Jake had started to stutter in his movement, his cock releasing into you. He pulled his shirt up, seeing your abdomen and his cock twitch. The beautiful mess that you two made will forever hold space in your mind. He pulled out of you and laid you down on the couch. He fixed up his pants and sat down next to you. You looked angelic, from how your hair splayed out on the armchair to how your chest had risen and descended. It was beautiful. And it was all because of him.

Your eyes looked up at him, the guitarist looking worried. "Stop looking at me like that," you say, your arm over your eyes to break contact.

"You stop it," he said, removing your arm and leaning down to gently kiss either eyelid. You couldn't help but giggle at his affection. "You're beautiful..." You shake your head no, abashed, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. He leaned in and kissed you. It was a gentle and chaste display, his hand cupping your face and thumb rubbing your cheek to calm you. "Why are you crying, baby?"

"I'm not crying, I’m just tired," you lie, pushing Jake, to which he chuckled. You sit up and had fixed your hair. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful..." he said, his cheeks showing pink. You smiled, knowing what he said he meant it very much true. He had gotten up, fixing himself up and had extended his hand to you. "Come on, let's get back to the party," he told you. You look at his hand and smiled.

"Yes, Daddy."

[runrabbitjunk]

i'm doing that thing where i try to use up one of my 'bad' sketchbooks but by the time i do i'm so accustomed to the paper that i start thinking about buying another one.

this is the famous muse "f0-homo drawing book" which i got in japan for painting classes and later discovered that it's included with the childrens (?) ghibli museum sketching set which seems really popular. i think the book is just like any other student quality book and is pretty unremarkable, im guessing it was included in the set because its geared to outdoor sketching.

speaking of which, it gave me a sad snicker looking at the instructions that come with this set online, because obviously its ghibli so all the advice and example sketches feature sunlit greens and farmhouse porches, which is obviously a huge aesthetic draw, but i was thinking.. "you only really get to draw that if thats what your world is like". a lot of ghibli films feature countryside 'old family homes' that are no doubt important to miyazaki's past, but that's sort of his thing. i grew up in a hilariously run-down Khrushchevka building so i drew this instead. for a taste of the real thing check out this article from 2012 where a bunch of urban explorers went around my street! i dont usually draw backgrounds because while this kind of landscape would be closest to my self-expression, boxes are boring, so i don't do it much. but then i watched (a video of a man on youtube talk loudly over) skinamarink (because im scared to watch the real thing) and thought "maybe i dont actually need to take a literal approach to this and i can draw smth abstract that captures the same feeling of being in it". so that's the kind of thing im drawing now.

sorry for the long post again. come meet me here and lets talk about it