#I’ve been on a found family kick recently

[sashthesloth]

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[✔️] family dynamics

[street-smarts00]

Complimentary Colors

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

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WC: 7.3K

Summary: After recently joining the team, you and Spencer could never get along. What started off as you two ignoring each other turned into bickering at work. What happens when a stressful moment for you turns into an opportunity to get to know this fascinating coworker of yours?

tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of crime/murder at the beginning (talking about cases/kidnapping), reader is shy and anxious, reader looks young for her age. (reader might be female but i don’t think i specified)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years and I’ve been on a criminal minds kick for a while. I had this idea loosely based off a prompt I saw on cai by (ApolloTheBoykisser) so thanks babes ;) also for once I had a fic of mine beta read lol my bestie beta read this for me. This is also posted on my AO3 page.

You had been working at the BAU for the last few weeks. You tried to get to know most of your coworkers and it seemed like you were making great progress. You had heard a lot about the team before you joined and were pretty intimidated by them at first. Okay- you were still pretty intimidated by them. But you pushed through your quiet exterior little by little and slowly but surely tried to get to know them. 

All except for Spencer Reid. It seemed like he was trying to avoid you. He was always very quiet and would barely talk to you. Being a shy person yourself, you thought maybe he was just shy or a quiet guy. However, he continued to ignore you except for when he had to acknowledge you for work. 

His coldness towards you was increasingly annoying as time went on, and your perception of him had slowly warped. The things about him you once found endearing, you now forced yourself to hate about him. If he rambled for too long, it could potentially make your blood boil. However, you could never stop paying attention to when he rambled on about facts or statistics. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him fascinating.

It didn’t take that long for him to start acknowledging you, but this soon turned into the two of you bickering like children. When you were discussing cases or profiles, you both would argue over motives, victimology, crime scenes- literally anything about the case- you two could turn it into an opportunity to contradict the other. You both still kept a level of professionalism to not let your rivalry affect your job. 

But there was always this tension between the two of you when you were in close quarters for too long. 

And at some point you both reached your boiling point. 

Last week, while the team was on a case, you and Spencer had gotten into a little spat once again. This time it went beyond the slight bickering or contraction. In the middle of the local precinct, you two were at each other's throats. 

“What was that?” You asked after you and Spencer left the interview room that held a victims family. 

“I was working off of the profile . . .” 

“You mean the profile we haven’t finished?” You interrupted. “The one we are still currently working on and have yet to disclose?” 

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work off of the information we already have,” he objected. 

“You told her information we are still unsure about. We don’t know for a fact how long he keeps them alive,” you accused while placing your hands on your hips, trying to conceal your frustration but failing.

“Guys.” Someone tried to tone things down. Neither of you heard who and you weren’t backing down.

“If I remember correctly, I heard you discussing this very subject and inputting your thoughts  . . .” 

“You still shouldn’t have told her! Especially when you don’t know for sure if her daughter could be alive,” you seethed stepping closer.

“Would you rather me hide everything from the mother who’s suffering from the disappearance of her daughter?” He asked, matching your tone and taking a step forward. 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“It sure sounded like it.” 

“Reid. Y/N.” The two of you turned your heads to your boss like two deer caught in headlights. 

“With me, now.” Hotch demanded and led you to an empty interview room. 

You could tell how angry he was- despite the fact that his stoic face represented almost every emotion in the book. But by the tone of his voice, you knew you and Spencer had messed up. 

“You two do not only represent this team, you represent the bureau. These cops are already not pleased with the idea of their boss calling us in and I do not need you arguing in front of them and giving them a reason to take us off this case. You must learn to respect and cooperate with one another or I will take you both off this case. Do I make myself clear?” He lectured. 

You both replied with a monotone “yes.”

“Good” 

Ever since your argument, you both had been relatively quiet towards one another. Like it had been in the beginning when you were ignoring each other. But that didn’t stop you from letting him invade your mind at every waking minute. It almost saddened you in a way there was no more bickering or quick remarks with him. With how much it annoyed you, you never thought you would miss it. 

The team had just finished a case and before everyone packed up and went home, Rossi announced that tomorrow everyone should come over for a little ‘get our minds off work’ get together. Your coworkers all thought it was a great idea to relax after the last few very stressful cases. 

As excited as you were to finally go to one of Rossi’s house parties, you were also scared shitless. Parties with relatively new people in your life were hard. You were so quiet around new people and were scared to approach others; you often waited to be approached. To you, being a profiler was easier than having a social life. 

But, maybe this time would be different. There’s not that many people on the team and you’d already started to familiarize yourself with them. 

The next day, you were pulling up to Rossi’s house. If there was anything else to be intimidated by with this man- besides his years of experience in the BAU- it was this giant house. You were greeted by the man himself at his front door. 

“Y/N, glad you could make it.” He opened the door and welcomed you in. 

He led you inside to where everyone else was gathered. Everyone was cheery at your arrival. Penelope with her clicky heels ran up to you and greeted you with a hug. It was refreshing to be around people who were so welcoming. It made it a little bit easier to really let your walls down. 

Well, almost everyone. Spencer gave you a small wave from where he stood. 

The night continued on and you would occasionally engage in conversation with the team. At this point, you were off to the side- standing in the kitchen and occasionally sipping some wine that Rossi had been bragging about and was just so excited for everyone to try. You were a bit too overwhelmed to go back to talking. The music was getting a bit loud and the lights seemed to be too bright. You opted for sitting on the barstool next to the counter and observing everyone around.  

They were all off in small groups or pairs around the house. All except for you and Spencer. He was another outlier and standing away from all the commotion. You looked over in his direction and he caught your eye. You both glared at each other and you quickly averted your gaze away from him. Your thoughts started to race and you began playing with your hair. 

After a moment, he glanced over in your direction again when you weren’t looking. He was unintentionally profiling you and noticed you getting overstimulated. Your eyes laser focused like you zoned out, your foot tapping against the chair, and your hand anxiously playing with your hair. 

While he wasn’t exactly your friend, he did understand what it felt like when social gatherings got overwhelming. He made his way over to you, careful not to make you more nervous or uncomfortable. 

“You okay?” He asked you. You were pulled away from spacing out. His voice sounded a bit concerned- which took you by surprise. You were partially relieved someone approached you to help bring you back down to earth. That someone noticed something was off. What confused you was the fact that person was Spencer. 

“I’m fine.”

He was well aware of what it meant when someone was “fine” and you were clearly not fine. He felt bad that you were so quick to shut down his attempt to check on you. After all, it was his fault and he knew that. 

“Do you wanna step outside?” He asked. 

You were conflicted. You didn’t want to be outside alone with him, but at the same time, you needed some time away from everything. Maybe it would help calm your nerves. 

“Maybe for a bit.” 

You followed him outside onto the back patio. You took note of the fresh air and the muffled sounds from inside. It all felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Pretty soon though, you realized how awkward it was to be outside alone with him. 

Spencer cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence, “Sometimes these parties can be . . . a lot.”

“A little bit. I was doing fine for a while but I think my social battery is running low.” You confessed to explain your discomfort. 

“Yeah” he replied. He appreciated the fact that you felt comfortable enough to express this with him. He tried to relate to you. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes I just need a moment to collect myself.” 

“Exactly.” You were relieved to hear that he felt the same way. “Plus it doesn’t help that I'm so new to the team.” You crossed your arms and slightly closed yourself off.

“I was the same way when I first joined.” He told her to try and ease your concerns. You were just like him at some point. The new guy and just trying to figure out how you fit in. 

“It’s difficult at first, but you settle down after a bit. Once you get to know everyone.” 

“Yeah it’s just the whole getting to know them part is a bit . . .” You abruptly stopped, hesitating to reveal too much to him.  

“A bit what?” 

“Intimidating,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes.

He obviously noticed your hesitance and avoided his usual behavior with you. You were always so strong and quick to banter with him. But now you seemed vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

“It’s not just you, I promise.” He was being honest. This was the calmest and most genuine conversation the two of you had ever had. “I find them all pretty intimidating.” 

Your eyebrows raised at his confession. How could he possibly be intimidated by these people?

“Really? But you’ve known them for so long. You all are so close.” 

“Close doesn’t mean you can’t be a little intimidated,” he replied. It might not make much sense, but it was the truth. 

“I mean Hotch is always stonewall and silent, no matter what you say to him. And don’t even get me started on Morgan.” He joked, knowing you would understand. 

You lightly chuckled at his joke. “I get what you mean.” You were starting to understand him more. You thought it was ironic that one of the team members you were first intimidated by was also intimidated by the team. Now he was starting to seem less intimidating or annoying and more approachable. You kinda liked seeing this new side of Spencer. 

“I guess I’ve always been like that. Worried to get to know people or open up.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were telling him this, but you knew he would understand. 

"I think when you're afraid of being hurt or judged or misunderstood by people, you try to keep your guard up." He told you, speaking from experience. From a young age until now, he's always felt misunderstood. 

"And I think...maybe that's why you're on edge with me? You're not sure what to expect from me."

“Are you profiling me?” You asked jokingly. Spencer however thought you were serious and you noticed him tense up. 

“I’m kidding.” Your expression softened to let him know you weren’t actually accusing him of profiling you. “I’m gonna be completely honest, I’ve been on edge with you cause I thought you didn’t like me.” 

He was a bit taken off guard by your statement. But at the same time, he couldn't deny it. He didn't dislike you now, but at first, he wasn't exactly fond of you. And now he was ashamed of that.

"I didn't like you." He admitted. "I thought you were pretentious, too eager to be accepted. I think I saw you as competition." 

Spencer’s comment did sting. It was never sunshine and rainbows to hear someone doesn't like you. However, you did take note of his language. He said “didn’t,” “thought” and “saw,” all past tense. Does this mean he doesn’t dislike you now? What you did appreciate was his reciprocated honesty. You both were making some progress in your relationship and you wanted to continue it. 

“I was eager to be accepted. I wanted to feel like I belonged.” 

“I know how you feel.” He expressed his sympathy. “I regret not giving you a chance. You’re not like I thought you were.” He also appreciated seeing this different side of you.

“You’re not like I thought you were.” You admitted. 

A little smirk tugs at his lips, “So I’m not as pretentious and selfish as you thought?” 

You lightly chucked, “I never thought you were selfish, but I did think you were a ‘know-it-all’ and trying to show off.” 

Spencer really didn’t want you to think he was a show off. Sure- he had a vast amount of knowledge, but he never wanted you to think he was bragging or that he knew better than you. “I do know a lot but I promise I’m not trying to show off. I just have all this information in my head and I want to share it with people or I’m really passionate about something and want to talk about it.” 

You understood that feeling all too well. There were so many times you wanted to ramble on about things you cared about or had knowledge on, but for the most part just stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he didn't keep quiet. He would go on and on. And while almost everyone else was either rolling their eyes or trying to shut him up, you were listening intently. You didn’t want to admit it back then, but now you were feeling up to it. 

“I will admit, while I did think of you as a know it all, I found a lot of your tangents interesting.” You admitted. 

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He was so used to people dismissing him. It was nice to hear you often would listen. “Really? You didn't mind me babbling on?" He asked, relieved with your response. 

"I mean, it is something I have trouble with. I tend to talk too much.” 

“Oh Dr. Reid I am very familiar with rambling and being worried about talking too much.” You paused for a moment- considering how much more you wanted to share with him. “I know it may not seem like it because I’m always quiet around the team but.. once I get comfortable around people, I actually get very rambly”

"You do?" He asked, sounding surprised. “About what?”  

“Really anything. Mostly things I’m passionate about like you. I’ll also tend to go on tangents about memories or just things happening in my life.” 

You made your way to a bench on the patio as you spoke. Spencer followed and sat down on a chair adjacent to you. You brought your attention back to him and noticed his focused gaze on you and he quickly licked his lips, a habit you noticed he did all the time.

"You really are a lot like me. You're just quieter at first." He added, teasing you a little. While he was not one for social cues, he had the sudden urge to be bold and make a joke. "Maybe next time I see you rambling, I won't immediately contradict you." 

You dramatically dropped your jaw and placed your hand over your heart. “Wow, you really know how to give a compliment,” you said, pretending to be offended. 

He laughed with a bright grin. "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase. The fact that you're so silent and reserved makes it that much more thrilling when I find out how much of a chatterbox you actually are." He joked, being playful as before.

Your cheeky smile slightly falters for a moment. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but he did. “I think you won’t be so thrilled once I actually turn into a chatterbox around you.”

"Actually I think I would find it intriguing." He told you, looking directly into your eyes. "The quiet ones tend to be the most interesting and complex when they do end up talking."

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. Probably the most interesting person on the team.” 

Did he really say that? Did he mean it? Or was he just being nice? You tried not to profile him, but couldn’t help it. His body language expressed he was being honest. Uncrossed legs and arms, open palms, eye contact. The only thing you didn’t notice when studying his body language was his dilated pupils. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at his compliment, “I doubt I’m the most interesting though. You maybe, Mr. Three PHDs and can read 20,000 words per minute.” 

He smiled back at you, “Just because I'm well educated doesn’t mean you can’t be as interesting as me, if not more.” 

You couldn’t believe he was saying such nice things to you. This was the first time you guys were actually making some kind of connection.. and it felt wonderful. 

“I still can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long but are just now talking. And by talking, I mean not getting into a spat after speaking for more than 3 minutes.” You confessed with a hint of playfulness in your voice at your joke. 

“Yeah, I feel like I barely know you.” 

“What would you like to know?” You asked. 

He thought for a moment trying to think of a question to ask. You noticed once again that he licked his lips, trying to concentrate. 

“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?” He asked. 

“Wow, I think that’s a bit too personal.” You said, voice laced with sarcasm. You tried your hardest to contain your amusement but started to smile. He smiled back at you. At first, he was always confused with sarcasm and social cues. To be honest, he still was. But he could just tell with you. He knew when you were joking and when you were being serious. He found your sense of humor amusing. 

“Yellow.” You answered. “What’s yours?” 

“Purple.” He replied. 

You intended to leave it inside your head- but a quiet “huh” made it past your lips as an idea came into focus. 

“What? Is it my choice for my favorite color?” He tried to joke with you but was also a little bit serious. 

“Oh no, it's just I thought it was interesting because those are complementary colors. You know how they are opposite on the color wheel?” You asked even though you figured he knew. 

He nodded his head, “Yes! Because they are on opposite ends of the color wheel, when they’re used together it creates a vibrant contrast and enhances visual appeal. The two colors almost balance each other out and support each other's intensity. Complimentary colors are a key component to color theory.” He suddenly noticed how long he was talking and his posture stiffened. He pressed his lips into a thin line and avoided eye contact. “Told you I talk too much.”

“And I told you that I find your rambling interesting.” 

His head perked back up at you. You genuinely wanted to listen to him. It was refreshing to talk to someone that didn’t cut him off or zone out. 

“That’s kinda like us though, don’t you think?” 

“What’s like us?” He asked confused, still thinking about the fact that you actually enjoy listening to what he has to say. 

“How our favorite colors are complimentary colors. Like you said, they support each other's intensity. When you first see them they’re opposites, but the more you look the more they compliment each other.” 

He softly smiles. “That does sound like us. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common.” 

There was a short pause where you both considered his statement. You did want to know more about him. You wanted to know all of him. 

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Of course.” 

“So, you're always reading. Like everywhere you go, you carry a book with you. I wanna know: what’s a book you could read over and over again and never get tired of?” You wanted to know beyond his favorite color. You wanted to get to the various  building blocks that made him the way he was. 

Spencer considered your question for a moment. Trying to go through the near infinite list of books he’s read in his life. You could tell he was concentrating on his answer because licked his lips. “Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.” 

“Is he one of your favorite authors?” 

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, confident in his answer. 

“How come you like that book so much?” You asked.

You could see this sort of spark enter his eyes the more you asked about it. Giving him the chance to share his passions. ”Oliver Twist was one of the first books that used satire to deliver social commentary. Particularly in this book the social commentary was aimed at poverty in 19th century England. The book also quickly gained attention after its publication due to the scandalous subject matter in which crimes, such as murder, were depicted in detail.” 

Spencer finally stopped rambling and almost looked as if he caught his breath from the endless talking. But what he was met with was your undivided attention.

”That sounds really interesting, maybe one day I should give it a read.” You say with a soft smile.

“You should,” he matched your smile, but it seemed a bit more sheepish due to his brief tangent. “Have you ever read Charles Dickens before?”

You shook your head in response. “I’ve never read anything by him. I actually don’t read much. But I used to in high school.” You revealed. 

“What have you read?” He asked. He leaned slightly forward and unconsciously mirrored your body language and placed his right hand on his leg like you did yours.

“Pretty much the same books everyone else had to read for school.” You paused and tapped your fingers trying to refresh your memory.

“To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, 1984, um.. a few Shakespeare books.” You answered with the few books you could remember. 

“Which one did you like the most?” 

“I’m not sure”, you sighed and thought about his question, wanting to give him a genuine answer. “Maybe.. Macbeth. I remember finding the story interesting and I did a group project on Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Like the scene where she’s hallucinating the blood on her hands.” 

Your voice started to pick up speed and volume ever so slightly. He could tell you were getting more passionate the more you spoke. Subtly displaying how you could ramble once you opened up to someone. He smiled as you continued, happy to see that you felt comfortable enough around him to let a hidden part of yourself out into the open. 

“I guess that kinda explains why I wanted to be a profiler and learn about psychology and forensics. I was interested in how Lady Macbeth's guilt manifested and caused her delusions. I wanted to understand why people did the things they did.”

“I can tell, you have this curiosity. You want to understand. Know the ‘why’. He mentally recalled the times you would express your curiosity during work. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

He pressed his lips in a line. “Is it- is it my turn to ask you something now?” He stuttered slightly. 

“I mean you don’t have to. It’s nobody’s ‘turn’ but you can if you want.” 

“I do.” He replied immediately. The corners of your mouth perked up into a small smile. He mirrored you.

“I may be stealing your previous question. Like you said you don’t read much. But I have noticed you listen to music a lot. I want to know a song you could listen to over and over again.” 

He was right, you often listen to music. Mostly on your way into work or on the jet, you would be wearing your signature headphones and have some playlist on. It was your own way of coping with the stress of your job. You looked down at the ground as you recalled the songs in your favorite playlist. 

“Dreams by The Cranberries.” You brought your eyes back up to face him. But what you saw was confusion in Spencer’s eyes. He tried to hide it but you knew better. “Have you heard that song?”

He did that little sideways pout you often saw him doing when he was in awkward situations.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Spencer broke eye contact, embarrassed he didn’t know something from pop culture. 

“It’s okay. Remind me next time I have my headphones and I’ll show you.” You spoke calmly to reassure him there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

He brought his attention back to you. Relieved to hear your gesture instead of a quip about his lack of pop culture knowledge like he was used to. 

“I will.” 

“Alright my turn.” You shifted your weight and brought your legs up to your side so your whole body could face him. “Um, it's kind of a personal question though. I’m curious about something.” 

“Go ahead. What is it?” He asked, giving you his whole undivided attention. 

“Does it ever bother you when people question your age when you say how educated you are?” 

He was somewhat thrown off by your question, but something told him you've wanted to ask him this for a while.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. Considering I have had such an extensive education so early in my life, it’s completely understandable that someone would question how I did it at a young age.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. He knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. 

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked before asking his real question. He appreciated your concerns about potentially pushing a boundary and he reciprocated it. He didn’t want to break this newfound friendship- if he could call it that- by making you uncomfortable. 

You nodded your head, silently telling him it was okay.

He slightly fidgeted with his hands. “Did you ask me that because people question your age?” 

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. “I’ve never looked my age.” 

He thought about his next question before asking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just trying to understand. Why does that bother you?” 

“It bothers me when people don’t take me seriously. I mean I’m in my late 20s and some people still think I look fresh out of college. It hasn’t happened as often since I joined the BAU but so many people in law enforcement don’t take me seriously. People tend to think I’m too innocent to have a job like this.” You confessed to him as you avoided looking him in the eyes.

"I wouldn't say you're innocent.” His comment brought your eyes back to him. 

“But you do have a soft demeanor. It makes you approachable. If anything, those qualities are an incredible asset to this job whether it be when you're speaking to victims or their family members.” 

Even though he would often throw snarky retorts to you in the past and try to get under your skin, he always admired how good you were at your job. Of course, you were an amazing profiler and had no trouble standing against dangerous unsubs. But the way you handled incredibly sensitive situations with such calmness and comfort with others was admirable. During cases with children, you were able to ease their worries and provide a safe space.

“While you are very sweet and shy, I would never call you innocent.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at his compliments. You felt understood hearing his affirmation. It also warmed your heart to hear that he thought so highly of you. Especially since the last few weeks, you thought he hated your guts. Although- his comment did make you more curious about how you were perceived. “Half the time I don’t realize how shy I am or how I present myself,” you weakly chuckled.

“There were actually a lot of ways to deduce that you're shy,” he matched your lighthearted tone but also kept a sense of seriousness to prove he was being genuine.

“Was it the fact that I was sitting by myself and scared to talk to them?” You half joked as you figured that’s what he was going to imply.

"That was part of it, yes. But besides that, it was the way you often avoid direct eye contact, and the tone of your voice. It's gentle and low, as if you're afraid of coming on too strong.” He was too caught up in his thoughts and observations to realize how much he was divulging. “You keep your distance and your words are always measured or not overly assertive. Almost like if you do come off assertive you will receive backlash." 

When he met your eyes again, he noticed how frozen you were. On the outside you didn't reveal much, simply had a stoic expression. He knew you better than that. He knew that he had hit a nerve and started to panic that he went too far. He had finally wrecked this slowly growing friendship like he thought he would, by being himself. 

“Wow, yeah that sounds pretty spot on,” you agreed. You sounded soft spoken and played with your hair again, of course without your knowledge.      

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He abruptly spattered in a panic.

“No it’s okay really,” you interrupted trying to reassure him. “I just didn’t expect you to be so ... correct.” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line, relieved he didn't mess things up, but still slightly worried he had left you feeling exposed. "I guess I'm just good at noticing things about people,” he shrugged.

“You forget, we get paid to notice things about people,” you joked with him, trying to make him feel better by lightening the situation. Of course, it worked. 

"That's true." He chuckled and paused for a moment to consider. Then he continued with his profile of you. 

"It's just the way your voice softens whenever you become uncomfortable, almost whispering or lowering in tone. Or your nervous habits, like when you play with your hair." It was a gesture he was pretty keen on catching.

You suddenly were very aware of the fact you were playing with your hair. You quickly dropped your hands and crossed your arms. 

"It's not bad that you do that, you know,” his voice had a slight crack in it. “It's just something you do subconsciously." He told her, trying to be comforting.

“Do you wanna know something you do subconsciously?” You asked, your voice with a hint of teasing. You decided that if he was going to profile you, you were going to profile him back. 

He noticed your tone and that you had gained a bit more confidence. "Sure, hit me." He said as he awaited your reply with curiosity and interest.

“You poke your tongue out a lot or lick your lips. Most of the time when you’re concentrating or lost in thought. Which means you definitely need to start using chapstick. I’ve seen you do it a lot since we’ve been out here.” You explained.

"So, are you telling me my lips are dry?" He replied playfully, his grin widening.

“They probably are,” you lightly laughed at the silliness of his question. He laughed along with you and subconsciously went to lick his lips again, but caught himself.

“I'm gonna be thinking about this so much more now,” he confessed. 

“Consider it payback for pointing out how much I play with my hair when I'm anxious. I don’t know what to do with my hands now,” you remarked as you dramatically waved your hands in the air.                                 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized.

“I already told you it’s alright. You're not the only one who analyzes behavior. I’ve noticed plenty of things you do and why you do it.” 

“Like what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, curious what particular things about him you had profiled. He noticed something though. The confidence you once had, had washed away after you collected your thoughts.  

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stated.

"You won’t make me uncomfortable,” he responded almost immediately. “I promise. I really want to know.”

You took a deep breath before explaining your observations. “You desperately want to be heard. You love to share the endless knowledge you have, but when someone walks away or cuts you off your reaction is almost that of deflating. And when someone does show a bit of interest in what you have to say your voice perks up and almost cracks with excitement. Then you talk a lot faster, probably a mixture of excitement and as a way to keep the other person engaged and to not lose their attention.” 

Spencer carefully listened to every word you said. Not a single deduction was false. You had read him like a book in the short time you knew him. You noticed something about him that most of the team couldn’t pick up on. 

"You're right about everything,” he said with a soft tone. Almost everyone interrupted him, you never did. This got him thinking. Of course everyone on the team made observations about each other, they’re profilers of course. However, he wondered why you had made so many about him. 

"Are you always this observant about everyone? And I mean everyone. Or is it just me that gets the special treatment?" He asked his last question with a hint of a teasing tone.

You scoffed, “yeah right, like you get special treatment.” You thought about your response, not wanting to reveal too much.

“I guess I might have paid attention to you because you were the only one who was so closed off to me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know who you were even if you weren’t going to tell me.” 

He was right, you were paying him special attention. The fact that you wanted to know who he was despite his closed off nature revealed enough. 

“So you admit it, I get special treatment?" He cheekily asked. 

“Oh shut up,” you retorted. 

“Make me.”

Your lips pursed, holding back a smile. 

Spencer noticed you were trying to hold back a smile and found it endearing. He also noticed something else about your reaction. You were blushing. You blushed as a result of his taunting. He got lost in the thought of you blushing from him. 

“Something you wanna share with the class?” You teased. 

He didn't want to admit it, not yet at least. He wanted to make you sweat just a little bit and get a reaction out of you. 

"I'm curious about something. Could you tell me what would cause someone's cheeks to flush?" He tried to seem genuine but of course he came off with a hint of cheekiness. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were completely oblivious to your red face and were confused by his random inquiry. 

“Are you questioning my profiling skills?” You lightly scoffed, not knowing what his true intentions were.

"No, not exactly. I just want to know what you think.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion but also amusement. You decided to play along with his little game.

“Well psychologically blushing could mean a multitude of things. Embarrassment, stress, anxiety, attraction.” While your voice stayed consistent, he noticed the change in your breath and how your eyes darted away from him. It was a brief expression, but he caught it. He got the answer he was looking for.

"And which one of those can explain why you’re blushing?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned closer to you.

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened. You shifted your weight in your seat and touched your cheeks. “I’m not blushing..” You ignored his question.

"You are.”

You sighed and stood up, “Well if I am it’s probably because you just pointed it out and I’m embarrassed.” 

"Oh, really?" He taunted and followed you. "I think that you might be blushing for a different reason."

You bit your lip out of frustration and crossed your arms. “Are you profiling me Spencer?” 

"Maybe I am,” he smirked. "I would say that maybe you've been so interested in me that you've been paying a lot of attention. That's why you took note of so many of my habits and behavior." 

Your face got redder and you started playing with your hair again. You huffed, “I told you before, the reason I paid attention to you was because I didn’t know you.”

"Sure, but you pointed out how you kept noticing I licked my lips. Why were you looking at my lips in the first place?"  

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. “Why are you so interested in why I’m blushing or looking at your dumb face anyway? Why do you care so much?” You asked defensively. 

He couldn’t respond, he froze up. 

“I mean, you question why I pay so much attention to you but here you are doing the same thing to me. Trying to read me like a book,” you accused. 

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess we're both curious about each other."

“I guess we are,” you responded. You saw his cheeks turn pink in reaction to your questioning. “Look who’s red now.”

If his face could even get redder, it did. For a man that could probably say a thousand words a minute, it seemed like none of them could fall from his lips. 

It was your turn to smirk. “I can’t believe I’ve managed to leave you speechless. Never thought that would happen.”

"Shut up,” he sheepishly scoffed. 

“Make me.”

Spencer felt his stomach flutter, he smiled bashfully at your mimicking his own teasing. The seconds passed and neither of you spoke, neither of you had words. Both of you in your own heads. In your head, you got a stroke of confidence. You didn't know where it came from, maybe the teasing, maybe the fact that you had him speechless. But you took it and ran with it.

”Maybe the reason you wanted to know why I was blushing so badly, is the same exact reason I was blushing,” you mumbled. 

The realization hit him in waves. You just admitted to the very thing he was trying to get out of you in the first place. He was speechless once again, but this was different. He stared at you with a stunned look, not knowing what to do. 

You took his blank expression as a negative reaction, thinking you came off too strong. You slowly backed away from him, regretting putting yourself out there. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget it.” You turned around to go back inside but felt something on your wrist. You turned around and saw Spencer had grabbed your wrist to stop you. His eyes wide and breath heavy.

"No. Don’t,” he begged. 

"Really?" You whispered softly. 

He smiled, "yes. Please don't take it back."

You smiled back at him bashfully. Spencer’s reaction make your stomach do backflips, but it made you wonder. 

"Can I ask, why did you pay such close attention to me? 

He released his light grasp on your wrist and instead placed your hand in his. "I couldn't stop analyzing every single detail about you. I wanted to know you inside and out. There was something about you that felt intoxicating. After every time I spoke to you, even if it was just us bickering or arguing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

He looked down at your joined hands and started to rub his thumb over your hand. You looked up at him and smiled, glancing at his lips. “Well you definitely must be thinking about something now, you licked your lips.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You made him feel like he was on full display, like he was a book that only you could read. 

He slightly blushed at your comment. “I am. Can you guess what I'm thinking about?"

You grabbed his other hand with yours as a smirk grew on your face, “How close we are. How it’s probably driving you crazy..” You nearly whispered the last part as you leaned closer to him, “how I’m making you crazy..”

"You do.” Spencer wrapped one of his arms around your waist and placed his hand on the small of your back. A shiver ran down your spine as his hand touched your back. Of course, he could tell and was light headed by the effect you had on him. He’d never felt so intoxicated by someone before. “You’ve made me a mad man ever since I met you.” 

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“What about you?” He asked. “Do I make you crazy?” 

You glanced between his eyes and his lips. 

“Yes..”

It was like you both were on the exact same wavelength. You both dove in at the same time and slammed your lips together. Both of you just so desperate to get a taste of the other. The kiss was tender and passionate, with no single person in control. You both moved together in synced motions. All of the arguments, all the tension that had been slowly building up could be released.

When you finally parted, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. You felt his airy breath as he tried to come back down to earth. You placed a hand on his face and stroked his cheek with your thumb. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he breathed. 

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “what’s stopping you from doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked desperately. 

You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, “I love hearing you talk.. but shut up and kiss me.

Before today he never liked the idea of you telling him what to do. But now, he was at your mercy. He didn’t hesitate and locked your lips with his once again. You both melted together like lovesick teenagers. But moments like these of course don’t last forever. 

The sound of the patio door opening fell deaf on both your ears. It wasn’t until you heard Derek Morgan that you both pulled away from each other. 

”What’s going on out here?” Derek questioned with a smirk. 

You and Spencer couldn’t speak, too frozen to react. 

His grin only grew, “My man,” he chuckled as he glanced at Spencer.

“Don’t kill each other while you're out here.”  Derek left the way he came and closed the patio door. 

You sighed, “He’s gonna tell someone isn’t he?”

“Yup”

~

He made his way back to his coworkers with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “What’s got you all happy?” Emily asked. 

“Looks like our two angry birds are now two love birds,” he answered. 

“What? What are you talking about?” Penelope sprinted over as fast as she could with her heels. 

“How I just caught Reid and Y/N making out.”

The room exploded with chaos at the reactions to his news.

JJ, who was standing off to the side with Hotch, furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought they hated each other?” 

Hotch glanced towards the patio door and saw the light shadow of two figures. “No they don't. Not really.” 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Coyote Hybrid x Small Dog Hybrid Reader

When we talk about hybrids being brought to a loving and caring home 

from the cold facilities or the dangerous streets

But what about the other way around

You are the hybrid

Pampered and adored by your owners in the comfort of their home

Let out to play in the gated back yard filled with toys all specially chosen just for you 

But recently you’ve heard something or someone call for you

For all the attention your owners give they’re still human 

Shorter attention spans, less energy, and just a lack of interest in anything that you enjoy

But the one who’s calling out there understands

The howling and yipping just like your littermates from way back when

Just begging for you to come out and play 

So one day you’ll sneak through the door 

Excited to finally play with the one who’s been calling for you for weeks now

When you do meet him you had no expectations 

But his rough coat and skinny body say he’s nothing like you

“I’m so glad you came out, I’ve been calling to you forever.”

It’s so much fun 

He plays just like the dog hybrids you see on their walks

It’s such a fun time you don’t even realize how late it gets

Or how much you’ve ventured past the hole in the fence 

And by the time you realize 

It’s too late

“You dumb dog, you make it far too easy.”

The coyote who you’d been tricked by takes your disoriented confusion to drag you into the woods

The coyote who’s watched you from afar and found that they’d love nothing more than to add you to their pack

Even though they’ve massacred and fed hundreds of other unfortunate dog hybrids to their pack 

This one 

You are mighty special

He’ll easily latch onto your collar and pull you along 

Your measly kicking and yelping are drowned out as you're taken into the deep patch of the woods

The coyote hybrid–Kyte doesn’t let up in his insults to you

“So helpless without your human owners aren’t you? Bet they’ll be happy to know I’ll be taking you off their hands!”

“But I’m good! They love me!”

“Ha if they loved you they never would have let you out!”

Kyte means that as he shoves you down a ledge deeper into the cave his pack calls home

Swarmed by coyote pups and curious members of the family 

All you get are a few curious nips before Kyte chooses to take you aside

With no other familiar faces just glowing yellow eyes you retreat to Kyte’s side as he takes you to his area in the cave

“Y-you tricked me! And abducted me!”

“Hm is that what you think dumb dog, I’ve courted you and you were stupid enough to resist.”

Kyte while shoving his nose into your neck will explain how his playing was an offer 

“Don’t you see it’s as much your fault as mine. Won’t you accept me?”

If you are foolish enough to refuse with his larger stature

And those sharpened teeth lightly gliding over your skin

He’ll squeeze you tight 

“I guess you prefer to let your loyalties lie with your living owners. Well, I guess we’ll just have to fix that.”

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Dad!Simon Takes Your Daughter Swimming 🧸

i’ve started taking adult swimming lessons recently because i literally forgot how to swim 😭 it’s so fun tho and i’m good at it now that i’ve jogged my memory pure fluff! just simon being a good daddy (i love him as a girl dad it just makes sense)

Walking out of the changing rooms, you hold your daughter’s hand at the edge of the swimming pool, looking about for her father who seems to be taking his sweet time getting his trunks on. For the mean time, you focus on controlling your hyper little girl. Her hair bounces over her shoulders as she jumps up and down excitedly in her pink kiddie wetsuit - almost giving you a heart attack every time she makes a sudden movement, for fear that she’ll slip. In that anxious state, a tall, military man wrapping a strong hand around your waist almost makes you cry out from shock.

"Hello, love," he tries to hide his chuckle at how he made you jump, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

"God, Si, you scared me!" you laugh, still a little breathless, as his toddler starts to whine and tug your hand towards the pool, her arms somewhat restricted by her small yellow armbands.

"Hey, relax," he whispers into your ear softly, taking a moment to calm your anxieties. Oh, and he thinks he’s being smooth and subtle when he checks you out, but he’s definitely not - not that you care. When he sees your tensed shoulders gently start to ease up, he lifts the baby up into the air and steps down into the pool with her, making her shriek in joy. You giggle to yourself, silently noting how your husband chose not to wear that plain black tshirt. He almost always reaches for it when you go swimming, in an attempt to hide his scary scars from the little kids and to retain some of the comfort that he finds in covering himself - the same comfort he finds in his mask. But today, he was just in his trunks, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of his warm, broad back as he held your little daughter on her tummy in the shallow end, encouraging her to "kick!" and "swim to daddy, sweetheart."

With one hand on your stomach, you gently lower yourself down the pool ladder - your back faced away from it to give your (still small) pregnant stomach some room to breathe. Watching you slowly descend into the pool, Simon lifts your three year old up onto his chest so that her chubby cheek is squished against his shoulder, and swims over to you. The little girl babbles and kicks her soft legs, convinced that it will help them move faster, making simon chuckle and plant a little kiss on her forehead before he stops next to you.

"Y’okay?" a firm but gentle hand supports your lower back as you finally land your feet on the bottom of the pool. When you’re down, that same hand wraps further around your back to lightly caress your stomach, the baby in Si’s arms still babbling and trying to swim away like a mermaid (she can’t actually swim).

"’Course I am," you grin, spirit lifted by your family and by the way the water supports your belly, taking some of the pressure off of your tender body.

"Daddy’s been teaching you how to swim, has he?" you let your body float, Simon still holding both of his girls close to him in the water.

"Can swim! I can swim! Swim!" your little girl squeals, her energy shining through her purple goggles, that would leave little rings around her eyes for a few hours after she took them off

"You gonna show Mummy how well you can swim..?" your husband grins. He gently loosens his grip around her, his hands never actually leaving her sides but still not restricting her freedom of movement.

With her new-found freedom, your daughter starts to giggle and kick her legs, chubby arms flailing and splashing water everywhere.

"Swim!” she squeals, wriggling and kicking, simon gently nudging her back upright when she loses her balance, "can swim! Daddy, can swim!"

"That’s right, baby," Simon coos, a little smile growing on the face that’s typically so rugged and serious. He’s so proud. <33

i hope this was up to standard! tysm for all the love on the last dad!si post!!! i want to do my next one on her falling over (inspired by this video) bc omg imagine him cuddling his little girl and kissing her knee better 😣😣😣

thanks for reading!!

@minimimmies as promised x

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 6: Darling

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: PART 6 HAS ARRIVED! Thank you for all of your support! A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and being my beta! Enjoy and blessed be! (p.s. ghost drinking an orange sodie lol) << Previous | Next >>

Simon could hear his daughter’s screams as he came up the walkway to their front door, duffel slung over his shoulder. He had returned from a month-long deployment an hour ago and only allowed himself enough time to debrief and return his weapons once on base before hopping in his car and heading home.

He entered the house, still in full gear (mask and all), to find his heavily pregnant wife pacing the living room, their crying daughter in her arms. Her eyes and cheeks were red when she turned to the door, sobbing in relief at the sight of him.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s going on?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and going to her.

“She has a-a cold.”

“I can see that.” He wiped at the snot and drool on Joanie’s lip with his glove. “Where’s Roach?”

“He went to pick König up. You didn’t see him?”

“No. Must’ve just missed ‘im.” When Price handed out assignments for their most recent deployment, Roach had offered (more like decided) to stay with Freyja for the duration of his absence. With König also deployed, it made sense for him to help her with the baby and housekeeping while Simon was gone. Better than staying on base – alone – for a month. Knowing someone was in the house with his family made him feel better about leaving for such an extended period, especially with his track record. The last time he had left the country, leaving his pregnant spouse behind…

Simon rubbed his daughter’s back, his heartstrings tugging at the thought of her being in pain. “Give ’er here, I’ll take a turn.”

“Si, no, you must be exhausted-”

“I am exhausted, which means I’m in no mood to argue. Go to bed, love, please.”

His pleading didn’t seem to affect her as she went back to doing laps around the couch. “The doctor said there’s nothing we can do. It just has to pass. I’ve tried everything. Chest salve, shower steam, saline – nothing’s working. Every-Every time we put her down or sit down, the screaming just gets worse. Can’t stop…moving, and your son is kicking the shit out of me-”

This was ironic, considering how Joan only kicked when Simon or one of their friends spoke or touched her belly. Now, their son only ever kicked for her.

“Freyja.”

She stopped her rambling and found he had stepped into her path; he firmly held her biceps and dragged his hands up and down. Freyja sniffled as another tear slipped down her cheek. No singular word could describe how she felt (and probably looked). Drained, fatigued, beaten, dog-tired; none quite did the trick.

“You look like shit. You need to get some rest.”

“No, Simon, please just go to…bed.”

Soon as Ghost took Joan and returned to massaging her spine, her wails simmered to quiet whimpers as she cuddled into him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, little fingers hanging from the collar of his shirt to the top of his vest. Their baby was getting big, her senseless baby talk beginning to lean more toward coherent vocabulary. When Joanie cried a soft “Dada” against his neck, Freyja started to sob harder, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes. 

Shit. “What’s wrong? She stopped screaming bloody murder. That’s a good thing.”

“I’ve been trying to calm her down for hours! You come home, and after five minutes, you’ve fixed it. She hates me! She fucking hates me!”

“Frey, look at me.” He stopped comforting Joan for a moment to tilt his wife’s chin up, forcing her to listen to him. When she did, he took his hand back. “Babies see their mothers as an extension of themselves. She knows your heartbeat and breathing sounds; she gets food from you…”

“Who told you that?”

“…I read about it.”

Freyja softened, tears no longer flowing freely. “You read parenting books?”

“Of course I do. I want to be the best for them and you.” He pulled her into his chest with one arm, his covered lips pressing into her hair. “You are her mother. I could never take your place. You’re her home. But I’ve been gone for a month, and I’ve never been away from her this long. There’s something to be said about missing her dad and wanting some comfort.”

When Simon brushed her tears away, she turned to kiss his palm, then rested her cheek there. Freyja didn’t know how, but her husband sure had a way with words, always knowing how to make her feel better. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she hummed and, before she could reach to pull his mask up, Joanie whined in frustration, kicking her legs impatiently, about to start up again. Simon chuckled and let his wife go, his heavy boots thunking against the hard floor as he began what would be a long night of getting his steps in. 

“Good. Now do as Daddy tells you and go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

.

.

.

Coming up on the end of her pregnancy, the ‘waddling’ stage was in full swing. If Freyja thought she was big just before Joan was born, she was almost certainly a whale now, and she was losing energy much faster than before. This time around, though, they were sure to schedule a c-section for the week before her due date. The OB didn’t put up much of an argument with her medical history and Joan’s early arrival.

Her phone pinged again as she rounded the corner toward her husband’s office.

And again.

Joan’s irritable whines became more evident as she closed in on her destination. “Si, I can only move so fast.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ghost detached Joan’s iron grip from his mask while she was distracted. She continued to kick her little legs against him, trying to get away. “She’s antsy. I can’t get her down for shit. She’s sick of me.”

He wheeled his chair around the desk and tugged her missing sock back on (to her protest) until he reached the other side and placed her feet on the floor. “See? Mum’s here. Go see her,” he cooed, her tiny hands gripping his thumbs for support.

“Dad Ghost” as she had lovingly coined Simon in his work attire, was a walking contradiction. An arguably massive man, a masked mystery to majority of the population on base, snapping otherwise cocky and egotistical soldiers back in line. Still, no one dared to laugh as he screamed at them for poor technique or a lackluster performance with a blonde baby on his hip or strapped to his back. It never failed to make her want to giggle, hearing such a soft, gentle tone from the big scary skull plate affixed to his balaclava. 

Freyja was halfway across the room when he stood their daughter between his comically large boots. “She won’t go that far,” she admonished. “If you give her too big of a task, she’s not going to even try-”

As if sensing her mother’s doubt, Joan took a steady step forward, still holding Simon’s hands in deep concentration. Then another, and another –

Until he couldn’t stretch forward anymore, and she let go, hobbling towards Freyja until she stumbled at her feet, letting out a soft baby grunt.

They both stared at each other in silence, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock. Neither spoke for a good minute, until Joanie pulled herself up again by Freyja’s cargo pants, babbling, “Mum mum mum mummm”, gnawing at the thick material and looking up with big, brown eyes.

“Did she just…?”

“I told you, she’s bloody brilliant.” Simon shot up to scoop the baby and place her in his wife’s waiting arms.

“My big, smart girl! I can’t believe it!” She squealed and giggled as Freyja peppered her face in fat, wet kisses and gently shook her. Ghost joined in, playfully nibbling at the rolls on the other side through the black material covering his face. Joanie smacked them both away, screaming with joy. Amongst all the commotion, Price stopped in the doorway on his way to their brief (which they were about to be late for). 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, fists on his hips in faux anger. “I thought we had an understanding! No fun at work without Granddad.”

“We officially have a walker on our hands!”

Price gasped and crossed the room in an instant. “And I missed it?!” He shoved the stack of mission folders at the lieutenant and stole his granddaughter from her mother, hiking her high up on his waist. “You walked without me? I’m offended, little miss, but I’ll settle for a victory lap.”

He plucked his green bucket hat off the top of his head and dropped it onto hers, earning a high-pitched shriek of delight when it covered her face. “Let’s roll, everybody. We’ve got a meeting to get to,” he commanded before marching down the hall. “Oi, lads! She walked!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the distance, followed by a wall-shaking group chant, “Joanie! Joanie! Joanie!”

Freyja just stood there, pouting, arms crossed atop her belly. “Just once, I’d like to celebrate our baby’s milestones in peace.”

“You know that’s not possible, love.” Ghost chuckled next to her, offering a single pat to her ass as they headed to the briefing. While neither of them would be going, it was their job to know what was going on during their impending absence. The ruckus started to die down when the couple sat, and the others followed suit. Soap placed a mug of peppermint tea in front of her, which she thanked him for, and  Laswell, Gaz, and Soap filed around the table.

“Kӧnig and Roach should be here shortly,” Price said, bouncing Joan on his lap as Ghost passed out manila folders.

Gaz checked his watch with a furrowed brow. “It’s five past. Maybe they forgot?”

“Just give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll be here.”

“His office was closed, so he’s definitely in there. I can go grab ‘im. It’s no trouble,” he offered, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“Be my guest, Sergeant,” Freyja hummed, making eye contact with John as she sipped her tea, hiding her mischievous grin behind the cup. She waited for an appropriate amount of time, about how long it would take to take ten paces up the hall before she held up five fingers. 

“You’re a demon.”

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Verdammt nochmal!” 

There’s a loud bang, eerily similar to the sound of a six-foot-six body slamming into the floor. Boots thunder against the ground until Gaz appears in the doorway again, eyes wide and blushing like a madman.

“Genau deshalb habe ich das Militär verlassen, keiner von euch hat den Anstand, verdammt noch mal anzuklopfen!”

“Didn’t knock, did you.”

“Nope.”

“How bad?”

König stomped into the meeting, red as a tomato as he jerked his long, tangled (read: freshly fucked) hair into a knot at the base of his neck before slipping his hood on. Roach walked in behind him, grinning like an absolute idiot (read: clearly the one doing the fucking), albeit a bit flush, and his clothes untucked and wrinkled as he plopped beside John. 

“At least I didn’t get knifed this time.”

“Der Tag ist noch jung, Unteroffizier.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like a threat.”

“It was,” Freyja sang, her body shaking as she attempted to withhold laughter.

By the time Price had finished divulging the details of the op scheduled for the end of the month (which was also around the time of her c-section, which left Freyja and those deploying disappointed), Joanie had escaped his hold to crawl across the table and landed in her mother’s lap. She sat back against Frey’s round belly, happily gnawing on a teething ring while the captain combed her fingers through her soft, blonde curls. 

John cleared his throat and leaned back, tipping the chair on its back legs. “So…In a shocking turn of events, Roach is the top–”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, CAPTAIN?!” Soap screeched after choking on his coffee, leaving a stain on his shirt as it dripped from his nose.

“Oh, mein Gott…” 

“I don’t know. What did I say, Sergeant?”

Across the table, Roach held his lips between his teeth as he wheezed, quickly signing, “Only for my king.”

“PLEASE PLÖTZE! Stop talking!” König, finally deciding he’d had enough, shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of the room, almost bonking his head on the door frame on his way out. A moment later, he stormed back in and snagged his forgotten file awaiting him in Roach’s outstretched hand before turning back out.

Biting his lip, Soap muttered, “Interesting…” to himself, eyeing the Austrian’s retreating form before flicking back over to Roach. The Brit was already looking at him, probably having heard him being sat next to him. He winked with a devilish smirk, and practically purred, “S’alright, happens tae th' best o' us.”

.

.

.

A few days shy of their next mission, and the birth of the newest Riley, the gang gathered around their living room for one last game night before Roach, König, Soap, and John departed for another mission. Roach and König were less than pleased to be missing the birth of their godson, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle placed a red eight down on the stack of cards, ending his turn. “C’mon, mate, what’s the wildest thing you’ve done on a mission?” he prodded, raising a brow in Simon’s direction. “You know all our stories. It’s only fair.”

The two shared a knowing look, and Freyja giggled once before Kyle interrupted, “Besides that, you heathens.”

Simon pressed against the kitchen chair he had dragged in for himself, seriously considering what he would consider the most outlandish activity he had partaken in outside of combat. Particularly, that didn’t involve screwing his wife in places they shouldn’t, like public places, sniper lookouts, cars, or supply closets…

Before he could drift too far, he caught the saucy side-eye his wife was throwing him from her deep armchair.

“No.”

Soap peeked up from his hand with a quirked brow. “Does Ghostie have an embarrassing secret? Now we have to know!”

“It’s not a secret, and I’m not embarrassed by it just because I don’t flaunt it around,” he said, shot back the rest of his whiskey, and replaced his mask. Simon didn’t always wear it with their friends; he just so happened to feel inclined to it that night. There was no rhyme or reason as to when he needed the comfort; the urge just came and went as it pleased. 

He tried his best to sound completely disinterested, hoping the discussion would blow over as he threw down his card. “Blue.”

Unfortunately, his plan did not work, and all interest in their game of Uno was lost. Kyle threw his hand down on the table, completely giddy. “WHAT IS IT?! TELL US!”

Simon groaned, throwing his cards at his wife, who simply laughed. “See, look what you did.” He sighed and begrudgingly unhooked his mask from behind his ears, tossing that at her too. After a beat, he let his tongue loll out, revealing a silver ball.

Several (if not all) of their jaws dropped, save for Freyja’s, who was utterly thrilled that this was happening.

Johnny was the first to speak. “Is…that…” he stuttered, staring unabashedly in disbelief. 

He snapped his mouth shut again once everyone had had a decent look. “Alright, can we move on please–”

The Scot pounced across the space, clearing the coffee table as he knocked Simon out of his chair, taking them both down into a heap on the floor. They wrestled as he tried to dig his fingers into Ghost’s mouth and pry it open again. “LEMME SEE!”

“JOHNNY!” Simon roared, bucking and thrashing his hips in attempt to get the man off, but he quickly scooted up until he sat firmly on his chest, knees pinning his shoulders as he yanked the piercing back out.

“Awe, so that’s why you’re always fuckin’ like horny teenagers! Oh, ah bet that feels good on your cu-”

“SHUT UP, SOAP!” “THAT’LL DO!” 

Freyja whipped her slipper at Johnny’s head, which he swiftly dodged. Meanwhile, Gaz was face down on the floor, having a fit and struggling to breathe. Price looked like he would actually rather die than endure another moment of the scene unfolding at his feet. Kӧnig was carefully weaving between people and furniture to remove Soap before he got hurt, and Roach stayed in his spot, mouth open in silent laughter.

Thank God Joanie was a heavy sleeper.

“Are you gonnae sit there ‘n tell meh that a’m wrong? A husband should always eat arse!”

“JOHNNY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kyle finally caught his breath and cut back in, “But does it WORK?!”

Everybody froze, including Kӧnig, whose hands looped under Johnny’s armpits, about to extract him. From underneath him, Simon glared up at his wife (who started this whole fucking mess). “Freyja–”

But Freyja, being the brat she is and loving the chaos, “…It works.”

Simon covered his face with both of his now freed hands, so utterly sick of her shit as the sergeant shook his shoulders, he and Gaz both screaming like madmen. Kӧnig still hovered over them, ready to remove Johnny if Simon called for it, his red hair up in a neat top knot at the crown of his head. A few strands hung loosely by his ears and at the peak of his forehead, framing his pale skin.

“AAAAAYYYYYY, SO YOU DO GIVE GOOD HEAD!”

He removed his shield at that, looking up at Johnny with a confused expression. “Who said I don’t give good head?”

Price flinched with a crinkled nose and grabbed his hat from the back of the couch. “That’s my cue.”

“Scary guys either have monster cock or scary good head,” Kyle stated as if it were pure fact.

“But he has both.”

“I can’t fucking take this.” Simon finally shoved at Johnny and the Austrian lifted him with ease, standing the Scot back on his feet.

Soap dusted off his pants. “Damn, you’ll have’ta get one’a those, Köni,” he teased and turned to face the giant, looking up at him with a boyish grin. 

König’s skin, ever the shy one, immediately painted itself a rosy hue, unable to be hidden by any hood or mask. Even Roach was taken by his brashness and turned a little pink himself, choosing to sip his drink. König was, unfortunately, frozen in place, wide eyes staring down at Johnny’s proud face.

Three seconds pass.

Then two more.

Then three again.

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS THEM?! The threesome you told me about a few weeks ago, was them?”

With nowhere else to go, König collapsed onto the couch and pulled the neck of his sweater over his face. “Verdammter Himmel, Johnny…” If he could crawl into a hole and die, he would.

“What can ah say? M’services are world-class.”

“Can confirm,” Roach added, having put his glass down so he could use both hands to talk.

Johnny raised a brow and dragged his eyes from Roach’s shoes, slowly up his shins, then his thighs and chest before settling on the challenging smirk on his freckled face. “‘S that so?” he asked, stepping into the space between Roach’s knees and the table.

Roach simply nodded, looking up at his boyfriend through hooded lashes, resembling a lovesick puppy with shocking accuracy. He knew exactly what he was doing, too, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Roach was a…talented flirt, to say the least.

His glass was carefully removed from his hand and placed on a coaster. Without a second thought, Soap wrapped his fingers around Roach’s wrist, dragged it behind his neck, and tossed the man over his shoulder. Gaz gaped, completely dumbfounded into silence – flabbergasted, if you will. He paused in the entryway, looking over his opposite shoulder.

“You comin’, Kö?”

König, still tucked away in the corner of the couch, peeked out from the cocoon he had created with his sweater. Even his forehead was tinged red, still. He openly stared for a bit before mustering up enough courage to rise again, and in an impossibly meek voice for such a large man, replied, “...Yes, sir,” and loosely tangled their fingers together.

Kyle threw his hands up then dropped them onto his head, dragging his cap back a bit. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Freyja offered a sympathetic pat, her bottom lip jutted out. Poor Simon, who had returned to his seat, covered his mouth with one palm as he tried to contain his chuckles. He pulled his mask back on after retrieving it from the floor.

“Don’t worry, Gaz,” she said and poked his cheek. “We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“I GET AROUND FINE!” He swatted her hand away, glowering at her. “You’re all just a bunch of slags!”

He jumped up, abandoning his beer and putting his hat back in place. “Where’s my niece? I need to restore my innocence,” he grumbled, trudging upstairs.

“Simon, did he just call us sluts?”

“Yes, darling.”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[cowgurrrl]

Crazy Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic fem!reader x Ellie Williams)

Summary: Ellie has a nightmare and you and Joel help calm her down [1.3k]

Author’s note: Apparently I’ve been on my tlou found family trope kick recently

Warnings: mentions of David, nightmares, a panic attack, I can’t think of anything else!

Ellie's screams rattle you from an already light sleep and shake the house. You and Joel are out of bed and sprinting to her room before you can even think about it. She's sitting up in bed when you open her door, gasps wrenching from her throat as she struggles to breathe, and she's in your arms not even a moment later. "You're home. You're okay," you tell her as you pull her close. She curls her head into your chest and sobs loudly. "We're right here with you, baby." Joel pulls the chair from her desk to sit across from you, an ever-present but silent figure. 

This is the third time this week she's woken up screaming. Each time, it sounds like thunder splitting the sky in half. It reminds you of every terrible moment that unfolded over the year it took to get to Jackson. Your heart aches, and tears fill your eyes as you rub her back and remind her that she's safe, that you and Joel would never let anything happen to her, and that you love her. Joel rests a gentle hand on your knee when he sees your tears, and you nod at him over Ellie's head. It's hard for both of you to see her like this and know there's nothing you can do to shield her from her own mind. 

She tells you bits and pieces of her nightmare in between cries. You're able to put together the words David, fire, blood, and know what she dreamt of. "Oh, sweet girl," you murmur as you push her hair out of her face and kiss her head. You hold her to your chest, tucking her under your chin, and hum an old song quietly. Joel reaches out and rubs soothing circles into her back. After a few minutes, her sobs die down to soft sniffles, and her breathing returns to normal. 

"You okay, kiddo?" Joel asks quietly. She nods against you and pulls away enough to look at him. Her face is red and splotchy, and her eyes are swollen. 

"Just felt so real," she says. You tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and she takes a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I woke you guys up."

"You have no reason to apologize," Joel says in that firm, loving tone reserved for Ellie. "We get them, too."

"Yeah, but you don't wake everyone up when you do,"

"That's not true. We've probably woken each other up hundreds of times over the years." You tell her, glancing at Joel, who's nodding in agreement. Ellie looks between us and relaxes a little bit.

"Really?" 

"Really."

"Does it get better?" She asks. "Like, do they go away?" 

"I don't know if they'll ever go away, but it gets more manageable. They become less real. Sometimes, we'll still wake up cryin' and screamin', but we can't remember why. We just know it was a nightmare, and we talk about it and go back to sleep." He explains, his southern twang peeking through his words as he gets sleepier. 

"Does talking about it help?"

"Sometimes. The great thing about us three is that we went through all of that shit together, so we trust each other. We understand each other. Joel knows that cars make me nervous because of what happened in Kansas City, and I know that Joel's right hand is a little weaker than his left because it didn't heal right after we left Boston," You say. Joel makes a mock, offended face, and Ellie smiles. You swear, his eyes twinkle in the low light of her room when she does. "And I know that you are an incredibly capable girl who saw a lot of things you shouldn't have. You're still learning how to live with these things, and that's okay because we're here for you. We'll always be right down the hall." 

"Even if I have shitty table manners?" She asks at the end of your emotional, vulnerable speech, and Joel laughs. She gets that from him, you think. The sass in her question and the smirk pulling at her lips have Joel written all over them. They may not share any DNA, but that girl is a Miller through and through.

"Even if you have shitty table manners." He confirms.

"Even if I tell you puns all day?"

"Yes, that too."

"What about-"

"When you go to school tomorrow, ask your smartass teacher what the word 'unconditional' means, alright? Tell her you need a vocabulary quiz or somethin'." He says, and you laugh along with Ellie. Her face lights up, and the weight drops from her shoulders. You may not know what tomorrow will bring, but this, right now, is enough. You kiss Ellie's head again, the love you feel for her pouring out of you, and she lets you before rubbing at her eyes and yawning.

"Tired?" You ask, and she nods. "Do you want us to stay with you until you fall asleep?" 

"I think I'll be okay," she says, untangling from you and tucking herself under the covers. You and Joel stand, tell her goodnight and remind her you're not far. Right before you can close her bedroom door, she sits back up. "Could you... maybe leave it open? Just a little bit."

"Anything for you, kiddo." She smiles at your answer before finally laying back down and closing her eyes. When you turn to walk back to your bedroom, Joel cups your jaw and kisses you. Your hands rest on his chest as his smell surrounds you—something sweet and smoky and so inherently him. He kisses you slowly and deeply, stealing the air from your lungs. When you pull away, he chases your lips and kisses you once, twice, three times before looking at you. His eyes are warm and heavy with fatigue and something more. "What was that for?" You whisper, careful not to wake Ellie.

"Takin' care of her," he says. "Takin' care of us. I wouldn't have been able to do that without you." You smile and kiss him again. 

"You're getting soft on me, cowboy." You murmur against him, and he huffs a laugh.

"Now, you keep that one to yourself. I've got a reputation to uphold."

"You mean the residents of Jackson don't know that mean old Joel Miller is secretly a huge softy for his family? I'm shocked." 

"You like mean old Joel Miller."

"I love mean old Joel Miller," you say, and he smiles, creasing the corners of his eyes. "Let's go back to bed before we have to get up for patrol."  

"Yes, ma'am," he says as you untangle from each other, but he stays close, keeping a hand on your lower back as you walk to your bedroom. Together, you pick the blankets off the floor and reset the bed. When you crawl back into bed, his arms wrap around your waist, and he pulls you to his chest. It's easy to get sleepy with the human furnace holding you. 

"Were you humming Van Morrison to her?" He asks right before you can fully fall back to sleep. You have to laugh because the idea of him wracking his brain for the familiar tune through all of that is hilarious. You also have about five hours until patrol, and he's still awake, asking you about the song you were humming.

"I can't believe it took you that long to recognize it. Maybe you are losing it." You turn to look at him, and he rolls his eyes, trying to hide his smirk.

"Go to sleep."

"I'm trying. You're the one asking about Van Morrison." He doesn't fight you on getting the last word in. Instead, he kisses the back of your neck and squeezes you a little tighter. You fall asleep listening to big, scary Joel Miller humming Crazy Love into your skin like a gospel. After all these years, you have to think that maybe Van Morrison got that one right. Maybe love is enough to make us whole again. 

TUMBLR STOP DELETING MY LAST PARAGRAPH

[yoonavii]

Never popped a request to anyone via tumblr before but ahhh I loved your most recent Sanji fic so much. You're so talented ❤️

If you ever feel inspired, what about something where Sanji joins the crew, and sees how close reader and Zoro are (whether or not Zoro actually does have feelings for reader, idk!), and he gets jealous, until some event or fight and the reader shows how she cares for him and it all comes out in the open

(love me a bit of angst!)

Thank you!!🥺 and Welp, I’m inspired!! I tried my best with this one cause I’ve been a little dusty with angst lately so I apologize in advance. Hope you still enjoy it though!

Jealous

OPLA! Sanji x Reader

After the tumultuous events at the Baratie, Sanji officially joined the Straw Hat Pirates as their skilled cook. Initially, he was thrilled to be part of the crew, living his dream of sailing the Grand Line with an extraordinary group of individuals. However, as the days turned into weeks, he couldn’t help but notice something that gnawed at his heart – your growing closeness to Zoro.

On the surface, it was an inseparable bond formed through countless adventures, battles, and shared moments. You and Zoro seemed like kindred spirits, and it was clear to everyone that you had each other’s backs. They trained together, sparred together, and sometimes, they even spent hours talking about their dreams late into the night.

For Sanji, it was painful to watch. He had harbored deep feelings for you but never found the courage to express them. Instead, he masked his emotions with jealousy, believing that you and Zoro shared a connection that he could never hope to replicate.

As the crew continued their journey, heading toward the tumultuous waters of the conomi islands to save Nami, the tension between Sanji and Zoro escalated. Their arguments, once subtle jabs, had evolved into full-blown conflicts, often ending in physical confrontations. The crew couldn’t ignore the rift growing between them, and their division was affecting their performance in battles.

One day, as the crew faced off against the Fish-Men on the foreboding Arlong Park, the simmering animosity between Sanji and Zoro reached its boiling point. The battlefield became a stage for their pent-up anger to explode. Swords clashed against kicks, and fists met with blades in a cacophony of violence. You, exhausted from fighting alongside your bickering crewmates, couldn’t take it any longer. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you stepped boldly between Sanji and Zoro, ignoring the danger of the ongoing battle. “Enough!” you roared, your voice cutting through the chaos. “We can’t afford to be divided like this, especially in a battle like this one!”

Sanji and Zoro froze, their faces flushed with anger, but they both turned their attention to you. Your presence had an immediate calming effect. You took a deep breath, then continued, “Sanji, Zoro, we’re a crew. We’re a family. And I can’t stand to see you two at odds like this.” Sanji’s expression softened as he listened intently to your words. You took a step closer to him, your voice quivering slightly with vulnerability. “Sanji, you should know that I care about you deeply. It’s not just about Zoro and me. I want us all to be close and support each other. If it’s causing you pain, then let’s find a way to work through it.”

Sanji’s heart raced as he absorbed your confession. He never expected to hear those words from you. Slowly, he nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I… I feel the same way y/n. I was just being stupidly jealous.” You reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “Let’s put this behind us, Sanji. We can be together as a crew, as friends, and as something more, if you want.”

With the tension diffused, Sanji and Zoro exchanged a begrudging nod of understanding. The three of you returned to the battle, but this time, there was a newfound unity among the Straw Hat Pirates. While they hadn’t completely resolved their differences, they had taken the first steps toward mutual respect, recognizing that they each had their unique strengths and weaknesses. The bonds of the crew were stronger than ever, and as you fought side by side, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you had mended a broken heart and solidified the crew’s unbreakable spirit.

As the sun set on Arlong Park, a feeling of hope and reconciliation washed over the crew. Sanji and Zoro had begun to understand that their differences could be complementary rather than divisive, and with your support, they would continue to grow and adapt as a unified crew. The journey continued, marked by a deeper sense of camaraderie, love, and acceptance, proving that even in the face of jealousy and conflict, the bonds of friendship could prevail and grow stronger.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

[Brodie flicked through the mail, instantly recognising the scrawling handwriting of a certain redheaded little boy. Scaring a few birds in the process, he bellowed up the stairs: ALEEEEX!] Alex: [breathless] Is it for me?! Brodie: Nah, but I could do with some help carrying this super heavy envelope upstairs. Alex: Who do you think you are, Johnny Zest? Brodie: I’m better than that guy, c’mon…

… Hi Alex! Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to you, I promise I didn’t forget! I guess I just didn’t really know what to say cos I’ve sorta not felt like myself recently. My mom says I disappear into my own world sometimes so I sorta did that again and found it hard to think of anything fun to say. I don’t think I’d mind if you wrote to me about the less fun parts of your life though n’ my dad says you shouldn’t really keep everything to yourself all the time cos it ends up hurting so I thought I’d write anyway n’ just force myself not to worry about being boring or whatever. Your letters and your life always sound so exciting compared to mine though so sometimes it’s hard not to!!

I got in a fight at school which sounds like it should be an exciting story, but it wasn’t really. There’s this kid called Levi in my class that always picks on me (don’t worry though, I don’t care about that) and I couldn’t be bothered listening to him anymore so I hit him a couple times, I thought he’d hit me back but he just freaked out so I sorta felt bad about it afterward. He still makes fun of me but he doesn’t get up in my face as much so that’s a plus. Who says violence doesn’t solve anything? Hahaha I’m kidding! It wasn’t nice of me but maybe he should know better than to push people around so much.

I’m looking forward to summer so I can wander off a bit more and maybe it won’t rain so much! My mom doesn’t really like it when I go too far but as long as I’m back before curfew she tries not to freak out about it which is nice of her cos she knows I like to explore n’ stuff. I shouldn’t complain about my family cos I love them n’ stuff but I like being on my own sometimes and it’d be nice to have a bit of peace now n’ then. I’ve got SUPER good hearing so it’s hard to find anywhere quiet in my house, especially cos there’s always something crazy going on. My aunt Alma is sorta similar to me so she’s been helping me block out the noise with this meditation sorta thing, I guess it’s hard to explain but it’s not as lame as it sounds, it’s kinda fun to see how long you can stay in your own brain without people interrupting you. That probably sounds really weird but maybe you sorta get what I mean?

I finally have a treehouse now too!! It reminds me of your watchtower in some ways, but I guess it’s no way cooler than that, even though I know you’re bored of it by now. I wish we could hang out in it together cos it’s super awesome! Mom n’ dad don’t really bother me when I’m up there n’ my brother n’ sisters can’t manage the ladder yet so it’s all mine! It’s right at the bottom of the garden and looks out over the whole Bay too! Mom said she might let me sleep in it once it gets a bit warmer! It’d be cool falling asleep to the sound of the waves.. I hope it doesn’t end up making me need to pee all night though haha!!

Wren’s been obsessed with watching me play on the computer recently and I keep tryna teach her how to play herself but her little fingers can’t really reach all the buttons on the keyboard too well and she gets stupid mad when she dies so she just makes me play instead. She’d kick me if I told anyone but she’s a bit scared of some of the monsters too lol!! Mom told me I shouldn’t let her watch those ones but they’re the only ones she WANTS to watch and she jumps all over me until I give in so idk what they expect me to do other than lock her in the pantry, but I got told off for that so I guess I shouldn’t do that again haha (Wren thought it was funny though so it’s all good!) It’s a shame you don’t have a computer in the tower otherwise we could play together! Jude n’ Jacob aren’t really into that sorta thing so I usually just play on my own. Do you have a computer back home??

Oh! I got another badge for my swimming lessons too! I’ve almost got em all now which is neat but I sorta wanna avoid getting the last ones cos anyone that gets them all or has good attendance n’ whatever get an award at the end of the school year. They save em all up to give out at some stupid last year disco thing they put on before summer for the last year kids n’ it’d be so cringe to get called out in front of everyone like that. Some people think it’s gonna be amazing like my friend Jude, but I’d rather not go at all. Mom n’ dad keep saying it’ll be fun n’ everyone else is excited about it too but how fun could something be if you’re technically at SCHOOL? Bleh! I know you said you hate it sometimes, but being homeschooled sounds awesome to me lol.

I keep tryna bug my parents to go camping again so we could maybe see each other but they won’t take me out of school for a holiday n’ dad’s too busy with some work project so I guess we’ll have to keep writing to each other instead! Maybe if I keep annoying them about it we can come back in the summer! I hope so anyway but I guess I don’t wanna piss em off TOO much just in case my plan backfires or something.

I still feel really bad about not writing sooner but my dad said better late than never so hopefully you’re not too upset with me! I’ll try my best to write faster next time so you don’t have to wait as long. I’m looking forward to hearing about everything you’ve been up to!! Love Robin c: ps. my dad’s friend finally helped me fix that old polaroid so I’ve sent you some random pictures I took to test it out! I’m still getting used to it but the next ones will be better, I swear!

… the treehouse! it even has cool lights on it!! the back of our house! it’s so big it’s hard to fit in a picture.. it sorta looks fancy but it’s not really n’ dad said it was cheap cos it was a shithole a rare Byrd! (grumpy too – dad tried to take his dummy off him lol) he’s not supposed to be on my bed… the Bay! Jude says I sound girly for saying it’s so pretty here but I don’t care I could take a million pictures of this place n’ never get bored (I’ll stop now though cos mom says these polaroid things aren’t cheap for this model.. oops lol!!)

[eowynstwin]

Hi everyone. It's been a while—exactly a month since I last posted to this blog. How have you been?

A month isn't really all that long, but it's enough time to be able to look at everything that happened and understand it better. In the end, the whole situation (I've been calling it The Fuckening in my head) really didn't have anything to do with me. I was unlucky enough to run across someone willing to hurt anyone they could for attention, but also lucky enough that everyone who mattered to me in this fandom went to bat for me.

So I’ve decided to come back to this blog. I'll be posting about call of duty again as well as posting my writing. I also plan to blog about other fandoms (I’d already been doing it anyway); I've been getting back into rdr2, for example, and there's some writing I'd like to do for that.

There’s more context which I’ll put below the cut, but that’s the most important part of what I have to say; I often regret how long winded I can be, so the rest is just self indulgence if you can forgive it. I’ve thought a lot about this choice and I’m satisfied with my decision. I hope none of you will mind.

So, lol, things were not great outside of fandom stuff when it all kicked off, though I didn’t mention it publicly because we all know by now that asking for any sympathy when you’re the target of a mob is more likely to just get you raked over the coals harder. I’m still not entirely sure about talking about all of this, but I have a bad tendency to clam up when I really should be asking for support. So:

I mentioned briefly before the accusations started flying that I was dealing with bedbugs—turns out it was actually something else, but leading up to a doctor’s visit I was convinced I had an infestation, and I was stripping my bed every day to look for them. I had alarms set to wake me up twice a night to see if I could catch them, so I was not sleeping all that well. I couldn’t find anything, but I had no other explanation, and it was driving me fucking crazy. Post doctor visit it turns out I had a viral infection. No idea where I caught it, and nothing to do but wait it out. I had a massive, gnarly looking rash all over my body, and to add insult to injury I developed a fever that took me out for a whole weekend. (I’m recovered now but I have a nifty new scar on my hip from getting a biopsy.)

Next to that, I was having some PTSD flareups of my own. This was (mostly) unrelated to The Fuckening. Now, I understand that that might be hard to believe, given “Myka’s” claims, and I can’t make you believe me. Nor will I provide details to convince you, other than to say there were some things going on in my neighborhood that recalled a period of time in my life that was extremely unstable, and I found myself irrationally terrified to go home every day. For those of you who don’t experience the symptoms of PTSD, I think it’s appropriate to note that it isn’t just emotional turmoil; I, personally, experience physical pain in my entire body that lingers for hours, days, or even weeks after being triggered. (Everything regarding this, too, is fine now. I have a great therapist and a supportive family.)

All of this to say, I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally when I decided to leave this blog and fandom. And I regretted the decision almost instantly.

However, I didn’t want to let grief make any decisions for me, and also I was still VERY scared Myka was going to hunt down my personal information and either dox or harass me elsewhere. I think this fear was justified; it has happened to other writers in this fandom before.* So I decided to take some time to cool off and watch the situation develop without me.

I don’t think I need to get into the details—although if you’re interested in them, @fulltacs has been keeping track of the drama. Given the most recent development with the four obviously sock puppet blogs that popped up and immediately began stirring shit up again, I realized Myka probably would have done what she did with or without me. I just so happened to give her the ammunition she needed to do something REALLY big. It was pure bad luck.

(Also—and I’m sorry if this is just stirring the pot, but after everything they did to me I feel I deserve to make the accusation—I’ve suspected for a while that the two loudest blogs leading the witch hunt against me were far more involved in this farce than anyone has assumed. I have no proof and I do not want anyone to do anything about it on my behalf, leave them the fuck alone. But I will not forget the distress they caused me for a long fucking time, and the only way for me to let this go is to say my piece. So there. Done. Let that be the end of it.)

Having this hindsight, I feel comfortable coming back. I’m still very touched by everyone’s support, which in the end was louder than the harassment. I also think it’s important for people who care about fighting racism in any community not to run at the first sign of trouble, which I did, and I feel pretty sorry for.

That’s the gist of things. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for doing so!

*I was going to add a paragraph about halfmoth-halfman’s situation but decided against it. For one thing, she wants to be left alone, and for another, talking about the experiences of fans of color, particularly black fans, deserves its own post separate from my white experience, if I should even post about it at all.

[moncey-imagines]

Reminder | Cedric the Sorcerer x Reader

i apologize for the lack of fem reader i left it open edned for all readers but i hope everyone likes it :3

!!THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOF-READ OR EDITED!!

no warnings i dont think, other than sad ceddy teehee

requested by: @bettathanyou

Cedric sighed as he sat on his stool, resting his head in his hands. “Another spell fumbled…” he thought to himself. His recent failed attempt at impressing the royal family reminds him of a time he’d rather forget…a time he wishes he could’ve prevented.

Looking up at the potion he’s brewing, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in a jar. His bangs catch his eye…the silver color being a permanent reminder of his failure, and the years of ridicule he experienced for it.

Dropping his head back into his hands, he frees the lump that’s been building in his throat, his tears falling onto his spellbook.

“Cedric?” you say, peeking into his lab, worried for the sorcerer after hearing about what happened from Princess Sofia.

“Eh? Oh, [Y/N]...g-go away, you have work around the castle to do, don't you?”

He turns his body away from you, hiding his misery beneath a cold exterior. Despite his growing fondness of you, he just can't seem to bring himself to be vulnerable with you.

“You're crying, are you okay?”

You walk closer to the sorcerer, as he sighs in defeat at you seeing his tear stained face.

“Y-Yes, it's nothing…it's just a side effect from the griffin feathers I’m using in this spell…”

He tries to sit upright, to pretend he’s fine like he has for so many people.

Unlike them, though, you can see right through him.

“Cedric…I know sad tears when I see them…is it about what happened in front of Roland?”

Giving into your kindness, he reluctantly answers.

“...Yes, it is…I can't seem to hold it together in front of him…I always mess things up just when everyone's counting on me to do it right…”

He glances up at his reflection in the jar again, face full of sorrow.

“It’s alright Cedric…me and Princess Sofia can vouch for you, we know you're an amazing sorcerer…”

You kneel beside him, hugging him in an attempt to comfort him, though he continues to stare at his reflection.

“You don't understand, [Y/N]... everything I do is a failure…everything I’ve done is, too…”

“Cedric, is there something more to it? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…”

Opening up to you, he tells you about what happened back in his childhood and what he did to his sister, Cordelia's, hair. He tells you about how, ever since then, everyone belittled and made fun of him. How he started to believe them…

“Cedric…”

“I have a reminder on my head of what happened now, it seems no one will ever forget what happened…”

“But…it's a reminder of all you’ve been through, too…”

“Hm?”

Looking up at you expectantly and pleadingly, you sigh and hold his cheek in your palm, gaining a bit of a flustered reaction from the sorcerer.

“You endured all that bullying, all that ridicule…and yet, here you are…Royal Sorcerer of Enchancia…don't you think that, if you really were a terrible sorcerer, they would kick you out?”

“Hm…I suppose so…but what if it's all because of my father? They expect me to be just like him…”

“They could have hired Cordelia, Cedric, but they chose you…you also have me and Sofia, we believe in you…if you really were horrible, you wouldn't have any of this…”

“I suppose you're right…”

Leaning into your hand, he blushes, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you…for giving me that, um, pep talk…of sorts.”

“It's no problem, Cedric. That's what friends are for…”

Wincing a bit at the casual friend-zone, he pulls away from you, putting on a stern, yet flustered face.

“Yes, yes, now, um, run off. I have…potions to brew and such.”

You giggle as you stand back, giving him a peck on the lips and leaving out the door.

“Alright, Cedric, you can do it! I believe in your magic ability!”

As you leave, he sighs contently, turning back to his work with the new-found confidence that you’ve given him in, not only his magic, but his chance with you.

IM SORRY IF ITS SHORT I HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYSSSS!!!

[ggggggfft]

Have you ever helped detransition someone before, if not outright forced their detransition?

That depends on your definition of “forced.” I would say I have coerced girls into detransitioning, but the ones I’ve toyed with have always wanted to be stripped of their faux masculinity in the most humiliating ways. I give them plenty of opportunities to walk away. To say no and try to abandon this particular kink. But they always - Always come crawling back telling me how drippy are for transphobic porn. How they need Daddy to fuck their little girly pussy and turn them straight. They can’t help it. Craving dominate male seed and obeying their biological urge to reproduce is literally hardwired into their smaller brains. They will always be female first and fakeboys second.

My first experience with detransing was with my ftm girlfriend of several years. He was a she when we first met and started dating and when he finally worked up the courage to transition he only did so socially. I continued fucking his soft, womanly body and playing with his massive tits like nothing had changed, because aside from a few key words and a new name, there was nothing different about her. We were still having straight sex with my cock buried deep inside her slutty testosterone free pussy. She still loved to have her nipples teased and played with and it made her so wet. She was still fertile and could get pregnant at any time. She wasn’t on birth control.

After about two years of being out and still no HRT we began to play with her gender in the bedroom. She liked when I told her to take it like a girl. That I was raping her like a girl. That she would be a good girl for Daddy’s cock and let me use her pussy. In her mind, it was all pretend, playing into her fantasies of being a femboy. For me it was the perfect way to subconsciously train her to enjoy her body as it was. For her to come to terms with her birth sex and accept her womanhood. To go back to being my girlfriend. We broke up and to this day she is still going by he/him pronouns, but she has had no surgeries and while she did recently start hormone therapy she is taking the lowest dose possible. She has a very cute little mustache and gets misgendered every day by strangers, coworkers, and even supportive family members who are fully aware she is trans and has been for years.

We fuck now and then and when we do she asks me to fuck her cunt instead of her ass and get her pregnant. She calls her clitoris her babydick or even her boyclit and the last time we fucked I was testing the waters and called it her clitoris and she said nothing in her defense. Every time I pull her pants off she’s wearing panties and she will “cross dress” if I tell her too. I’ve never come out and told her about my fetish but I feel like part of her must know or at least suspect the truth, and yet she still can’t keep her legs closed around me. She’s my long term project and I hope as her biological clock starts counting down she finally cracks and gives in to what she obviously needs.

What really kicked off my hunt for fakeboys was a girl here on tumblr. I liked her blog description, she was 18, and she had reblogged so many posts begging for transphobic asks and rape threats. I sent her what I now think was a pretty mid dm describing how I’d fix her if she was my daughter and I found her blog. She responded by sending me pics of her shaved teen pussy and begging for more filth. I was hooked after that. She’s now fully addicted to misogyny and incest porn. She’s my good little zoomer slut who I can always hit up for pussy inspections or to make her drink her own piss. She fully accepts that she is a woman in mind, body, and soul, but we agree she should continue hormone treatment because it makes her even more horny and depraved.

She has gone out in a wig and breast forms and dresses in public for me and will sit in cafes with her legs spread and her big red cherry and drooling slick cunt on display for the world to see. She’s terrified of being clocked and actually hate crimed every time, but she just makes such a convincing cis girl that nobody ever notices. As soon as she gets home she gets on cam with me and rubs her clitoris while thanking me for showing her what a dumb tranny she is. I have her crouch in front of the camera and finger herself until she squirts onto her gym clothes for tomorrow. I have her chant that she is not a man. She will never be a man. She is her cunt and cunts are slaves to cock. I have her endlessly repeat that she wants to be a girl because girls are stupid and inferior and get to be dumb, brainless cumrags eating ass and getting fisted all day long while she jackhammers a dildo into her sweaty cunt.

She started out wanting to be misgendered and feminized, but I’m proud to say I broke her. If it doesn’t involve detrans and misogyny, she can’t get off any more. We’ve discussed it and if we were to move in together, with her coming to a new city in a new state where nobody knows her she would definitely detrans for real.

Right now I’m working on a girl who hasn’t come to terms with the reality of her desires. She is also a filthy sex slave but she insists on using those annoying he/they pronouns. She’s entertained the idea of becoming my good girl all the way, but is still reluctant. I get so turned on watching her try to resist her desires but knowing it’s futile in the end. if I want her to be a girl, she will be a girl. End of story.

Last night I had a great session with another ftm who started out being unsure and using he/him, but by 4 in the morning I had her telling me how she wanted my big fat cock to fuck a baby into her in front of her family. How she wants her dad to see his grandson being made. She fell completely in love with her vagina and the pleasure it can bring real men by the end of the night.

I’m waiting to sniff out the perfect gold-star tomboy faildyke to forcibly detrans. I want her to be defiant and tough and mean as hell so that when she’s a fucked out set of holes who only lives to worship men and get pregnant and give birth and has an IQ of 50 and giant plastic tits that victory will feel all the more glorious.

There are others but this post is already so long. If you’d like to make it longer, you can always dm me or send anons if you’re nervous. I love knowing there’s a shy girl behind the screen somewhere frantically rubbing her clit to these asks.

[elfven-blog]

All the damn vampires (1)

Summary: Recently moving to Santa Carla you may have finally found the perks.

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader A series based on the 1987 film ‘The Lost Boys’

CW: none for this chapter I believe, will be some in future (will be an 18+ series)

Word count: 1.3K

Dedicated to @nexysworld​ 

You and your family had been living in Santa Carla for a few months now, your dad having dragged the entire family there for a better work opportunity and not even thinking about the consequences. Like how he rooted his family into the murder capital of the world. Great going, dad.

Okay so maybe the town wasn’t so bad if you ignored the massive hordes of children disappearing, there were some things to do for fun like the boardwalk you were walking down had rides and games, and on Fridays there was a free concert. Or that’s what your mother tried to tell you every time you complained of nothing to do. “I’ve been at that boardwalk every weekend, you’d think the prizes cluttering the house would tell you that” so maybe your voice was a bit snippy, but you had the right to be, after all it was becoming significantly harder to find a job in your specific career field when your miles away from anything else.

“I know okay, and I guess you could have also just moved out instead of coming here with us! You’re a grown adult, you don’t get to throw a tantrum like a child” from the tone of her voice, your mother was clearly just as annoyed as you. She was right, you could have stayed where you were and just moved out but then your parents would be all the way out here. And what about you? Left alone without anyone on the other side of the country.

The sky had started to darken, the music on the boardwalk changing from the upbeat family tunes to bass filled rave music. God you loved the 80s. You and your mother split from each other as she made her way to the place she had found work “I’ll see you later okay? See if you can find some work” with a nod you started making your way elsewhere. Your eyes followed the crowd making their way to the beach concert, your mouth pouting before you shook your head and moved on.

Most of the stores in the area didn’t really need any more staff, and your options were dwindling by the second. That feeling of frustration settled into your gut as you were rejected again. Your feet took you out of the shop and towards the fair rides, deciding to have a break before you got back to job hunting. The lights of the carousel were bright, the music loud as you made your way to sit on one of the horses, a smile brightening your face when the ride started to move.

You heard the squeals of laughter die down slightly, and a tense feeling settles in the air. With a frown you look around and that’s when you spot what’s caused this sudden change. Five boys have stepped onto the carousel, mischief filling their eyes as they look to cause chaos on the boardwalk tonight. The others you have seen before adorned in their unique outfits and often on the back of their bikes, but one of them is a new face. Golden hair and blue eyes, his leather jacket has a few adornments on it like Marco’s, but the rest of his clothes are relatively tame.

There is seemingly nothing interesting about him, but for some reason your eyes can’t be torn away from the grin on his face and your ears have tuned into the snicker leaving his mouth as the guard yells for them to leave. Your eyes follow him as you slip off the horse, leaving the carousel yourself as you watch them make their way through the crowd. Eyes flickering away when one of them nudges the new Blonde and he turns his head to look over his shoulder. A heat spreading across your cheeks.

When you look back, they’re already gone, and you kick yourself a little for missing the opportunity before shrugging your shoulders and making your way to where the concert was being held on the beach instead. The music flooding your ears and pumping the blood in your veins as you dance to it. It didn’t matter that there was so many other bodies around you, nor did the fact you were struggling to find work in this new place stay in your mind. It was just you and the rhythm; the vibes of the moment and the scent of alcohol was all just a part of the experience.

You lose yourself in the scene, ignoring everything around you as you throw yourself into this moment and focusing on how you feel right then. That is until someone knocks into you, sending you flying forward, and your hands reach out to steady yourself but finding no need to as arms wrap around your waist and hold you.

“You alright?” His voice is low and resounds right next to your ear as he pulls you to stand again. Your back presses against his back and you feel the leather of his jacket, but below that there’s nothing but muscle. Once situated upright, you leave his grasp and turn, eyes widening at the sight of the blonde from before. There’s still a grin on his lips as he looks at you, hands falling to his side, and you catch a glimpse of the rings adorning his fingers. The heat is back on your cheeks as you nod at him.

“Yea, thanks to you” It feels like there’s a blockage in your throat as you try to talk, mouth running dry at the way his eyes glaze over you before he’s looking you in the eyes again. And now he’s close you can see every detail in his face, even in the haze of the night you could memorise every inch. He gave you a wink before he started walking away, his arm somewhat outstretched as he walked backwards like he was beckoning you to follow him.

There was something in your gut telling you to not follow the stranger, but there’s fluttering in your stomach that outweighs it and you let him lead you off. Away from the crowds of people, and the music becomes a distance thumping as you stray together on the beach. Once your far enough away, the walking stops, and he turns to you. You watch the way the moonlight reflects of his jacket, hands moving to his jeans. It’s strange you think for a moment, there should be some warmth emanating from him but maybe it’s just the cold winds waving in from the sea.

The look in his eyes has changed slightly as a hand moves to twirl your hair, and your breath catches in your throat with how close he is. The scent of the sea cascades into your nose as the waves wash up close by, his voice coming out just as smooth as before “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all the way up here” there’s a curiosity in his tone and maybe something more that you can’t place.

You swallow before finding your voice “What everyone else is, I guess. A promising new start” Your words cause a chuckle to leave him, broad shoulders shaking as his face contorts. The need to have him laugh more wriggles into your thoughts.

“New promising start? In this shithole?” His tone is different now, colder and more tense as his eyes flash over to the horizon before moving back to the crowd where he nods, you head follows his gaze but you see nothing of note. He must have seen someone he knew, “Murder capital of the world…far cry from paradise, doll”.

That was the last thing he said before his thumb moves along the soft skin of your cheek, and then he’s moving away with a deep sigh. “You should be careful, wouldn’t want you being one of those faces on the cartons”.

You watch as he makes a path back to where you were, shoulders hunched as he moves. And you find yourself hoping to meet the blonde again.

[kawaiipony-productions]

IMPORTANT: My Situation and GoFundMe

Hola y hello, to those who don't know who I am. I'm Itzel aka Kawaiipony Productions. I'm a 17 y/o (mostly Mlp) YouTuber. I'm non-binary asexual biromantic (he/she/they) and I'm also an AuDHDer. And well, I need help. I live in an emotionally abusive household and my own “father” is my abuser. And while my mom isn’t as bad and my relationship with her has gotten better in recent years, she has still caused harm even by letting a lot of this slide.

Around February 18th, 2022, my parents snooped on my phone and found out I was trans. They had taken my phone, tablet, and Nintendo Switch. Which I wouldn’t mind too much if I didn’t purchase majority of these. I bought my tablet myself sometime around 2018 to 2019 with my own money. And I split half and half with one of my sisters to buy our Switch. That is hundreds not only stolen, but also destroyed as they’ve broken my tablet (which was around $300-350 when I bought it) previous instances it’s been taken from me. And I have not received any of these devices since.

Not only that, but my abuser in the past years of me dealing with my abusive relationship with him, h has threatened not only kick me out of the house, but also send me to the military without my consent or send me to my family in México to “straighten me out.” Not to mention his constant ableism towards me. From being anti-vax (a very ableist rhetoric towards autistics), forcing me to mask, etc.

This has led to me secretly doing my job as a part-time YouTuber for the past 2 years now, especially since I was forced to delete the previous Kawaiipony Productions channel cause of him. I have a GFM to help fund me for being able to get proper equipment again for doing my work. Not only that, but also possibly for things I plan to get once I turn 18 such as starting to get therapy, medication for my ADHD, etc. And now that I started dating my girlfriend, Vikki, I want to start saving some of this money to possibly meet her irl sometime next year.

I am taking a few small paid jobs for work right now, but it’s still not enough for my situation. So, you may ask, how can I help? Well, if you have the money, donate to my GFM. My GFM goal is $2,000 and I still need around $1,200 for reaching my goal. I also have adoptables for sale right now for $25 each. If you can’t financially help, then you can share not only my GFM, but my work. From my artwork, my videos on YouTube, and projects I’ve been a part of as a voice actor, animator, and/or artist. Any of this helps support me through everything going on in my life. I could really use it right now. So any and all support helps me out. Thank you all for reading this thread, I appreciate any and all support I need!!!

-Itzel C.D. aka Kawaiipony Productions

Ways to support me!!!

My YouTube channel:

My GoFundMe:

Current Adoptables for Sale:

[zweetpea]

UPDATE

Hey guys…

I wasn’t even sure if I was going to post this but my situation has gotten to the point where my family and I are scared for our lives.

A few years ago my parents, sister and myself have moved and my sister started going to a new high school.

She adjusted fairly well, she got a group of friends and she was passing all her classes.

But something changed in the middle of her sophomore year. She stopped hanging out with her friends and up until recently my parents and I had no idea why.

One of her “friends” and her had a falling out so she was kicked out of the friend group. She still hung out with a few people here and there but for the most part she found a different group of friends.

It’s been two years and she hasn’t spoken the the girl she fell out with since. They shared ONE class together so for the most part they don’t interact, if at all.

My sister is a very timid person. She puts up a tough front but in reality she hates confrontation. So believe me when I say she has no malicious intent towards this girl.

This girl, who we’ll call Regina, is what you would call mentally unstable. According to my sister (and Regina herself but we’ll get to that later), Regina jokes about Arson and Murder all the time. And possibly about hurting others or herself every time she has a pair of scissors. To the point where it’s a “run joke” in Regina’s friend group.

So my sister makes a few off handed comments here and there because, newsflash we live in a country where you have the freedom to say whatever you want! It’s not even like she gossips, she’s just warned some lower classmate of Regina’s “Jokes”.

And recently she’s been having some problems with this chick. But today was the final straw. I found this note and I was so pissed at Regina! Regina wrote up this note with hearts on it (She DREW love-hearts on it, it’s not even like the paper came with it).

She basically said “why are you so obsessed with me? We’re not friends anymore! Stop talking about me. People will find out on their own I like arson and murder! And stop trying to get in on the scissors joke!”

Well guess what? My sister has been threatened with a box cutter by a different kid in the ONLY class these two share! And another thing! This chick wrote down the exact day her and my sister stopped being friends!

I asked her about it and she said Regina left it on her windshield. We told our parents and my sisters and I are getting some outside opinions from our friend groups outside the district so they don’t even know Regina but they’ve all agreed that she’s a psychopath. Even our parents agree that she’s sick in the head!

And I’m shaking while I’m writing this. I needed to get this out there to let you guys know what I’ve been dealing with and why I haven’t been posting recently.

My sister gave me full permission to post this and even asks for some advice so if you guys would leave some it would be greatly appreciated by her.

She doesn’t even feel safe sleeping at night anymore because this chick is harassing her.

Oh and if “Regina” is reading this which is highly unlikely but still never a zero chance I only have one thing to say to you; 🖕

[lunajay33]

New World🍂Part.14

Summary: You grew up in a crappy town with one friend who kept you going, everything started to fall into place, that’s until the world ended and the dead ruled the world, now you and your best friend Daryl Dixon had to stay alive but will you finally confess?

Part.13

•Masterlist•

The next morning we packed up some of the food and heading out hoping to find the others and if we couldn’t then we’ll just have to come back here

As we walked along the ever lasting road Judith was snacking on little treats I was feeding her, thankful she was a quiet baby so we didn’t have to worry about another attraction for walkers

“Ya sure yer good holding her?” Daryl asked as he adjusted the crossbow over his shoulder

“Oh ya I’m fine, I gotta get use to it anyways”

“How’s the baby been?”

“She’s good, she’s been kicking around in there definitely gonna be a wild one definitely a Dixon” I said as Judith giggled

“She?”

“I don’t know I don’t like calling her “it” and I just feel deep down she’s our little girl I dreamed of”

“Maybe she is, all we got left is hope”

Judith fell asleep in my arms as we continued walking as we came to a town full of deserted houses

“Maybe we should check these, there might be supplies” I said pointing to a White House on the corner, he grumbled in agreement, he searched the place first before he gave the all clear that I could explore the house

“Seems like someone was here recently” I said noticing the cereal dishes on the table

“Mmmm be on the look out”

Looking around the bedrooms I found another baby blanket for Judith and some baby clothes that’ll fit her better

“Find anything?” Daryl called from the doorway

“Just some baby supplies for Jude, you?”

“How about these?” He asked holding up a lacy blue thong

“DARYL! Put that away you’re crazy”

“Well I’m keepin em until ya wanna have some fun”

“Yer lucky I love you Dixon” I said trying to cover the rising blush on my face as I heard him let out a laugh

He sat on the bed watching me as I continued to rummage through the room, Judith tucked against my chest still sleeping

“Yer gonna be a great mom” I looked back at him smiling

“You think?”

“Look how yer with lil asskicker, she loves ya”

“I won’t say I’m not nervous or scared because I am, Jesus I’m terrified but to know I’ll be able to hold a little baby that we have together, that’s what keeps me hopeful that something might work out, that we can be a family” I said as I sat next to him

“Ya got nothin to be scared about, I got ya, all three of ya”

After rummaging through a few more houses we decided to keep walking maybe meeting up with whoever was in these houses before us

“Did ya hear that?” He asks stopping me in my track as we listened out again, two voices in the near distance, a male and a female oddly familiar, he took my hand leading me through the tree until we saw a road, a silhouette of a two family members I thought I’d never see again

“I’m gonna go first, they’ll be on guard, wait for my signal” he whispered as he left the tree line approaching Rick and Michonne

They shot up hearing Daryl’s walking, katana and gun pointed right at him as his hands were raised

“Rick it’s me” he groaned in his gravely voice I love so much

They lowered their weapons sharing emotional hugs just like Daryl and I did when we reunited, we all really became a family at the prison so finding others again made that hopeless feeling dwindle just a little more

He whistled obvious signal for me, I walked out and they all looked in my direction

“Y/n?” Michonne called running to me and squeezing me tight

“I missed you”

“I missed you too”

She pulled back to I could see Rick

“I’ve got a surprise” I smiled pulling Judith out of her nap sack against my chest that was covering her, Rick ran over swiping her out of my arms holding her tight, crying in joy as he placed a kiss to my forehead

“Thank you so much” he said with so much hope as I saw Carl come out of van joining us

“She was amazing, never fussy, I’d do it all over again” I said resting my hands on my belly

“How’s the baby?” Michonne asked as we sat down on the road, Daryl on my left Carl on my right

“She’s good, tired but we’re doing better after finding Daryl again, now you guys, hope we find more” I said as Carl leaned against me, we were close at the farm and start of the prison before everything happened, it was nice to have him around again, just wanting to protect him

“She?” Carl asked

“I just have a feeling she’s a girl, call it mothers intuition”

“Either way she’ll be beautiful” Michonne smiled

“Thanks”

We continued to catch up and everything, they told us about some guys they came across and had to run away from, when we heard rustling around us, men soon surrounding us, we all stood in defence, ricks gun out, Michonne katana, and Daryl’s crossbow

“Look at this, the prick who killed our guy” it was them, the group they were telling us about

A man I hadn’t seen behind me took hold of me wrapping his arms around me so I couldn’t move

“Weapons down or the knocked up one gets killed first”

Everyone dropped them, Daryl looking at me with fearful eyes

“Dont ya touch her” Daryl growled

“Hmmm I don’t think so I think I’m gonna have some fun with this one” he laughed in my ear as the other men started beating on Daryl, Michonne and Rick trying to stop them

I groaned when I was pushed to my knees feeling the pebbles from the road dig into me making me whine the emotions high, he took my shirt and ripped it in half exposing my chest and bump

“Don’t touch me pig” I said getting enough strength to kick him off, take my knife out of my waist band and stab him right through the chest

Everyone stopped what they were doing turning to me, but my eyes were on the man that had Carl pushed to the ground

“Let him go” he laughed mockingly, the rage boiled in me when I heard Carl cry, I walked over as he stepped back taking his hands off Carl

“Woah woah” he said before I pushed the knife straight into his throat blood splattering all over my face, watching him drop to the ground, this gave the others enough distraction to finish off the others, when they were all dead Daryl ran to me, his face busted but in this moment he didn’t seem to care about that

“Are ya okay peach?” He asked looking over my body, anger evident on his face when he noticed my shirt was ripped

“I’m….im fine, are you okay, you’re bleeding”

“Don’t worry, here change” he said as he went into my backpack pulling out a shirt we got from a house, he used the ripped shirt to wipe off the blood covering face then helping me put on the fresh one

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to but……but I had to”

“Ya saved us peach it’s okay” he said holding me to his chest

“Come on, let’s leave the men to talk you need rest” Michonne said guiding me to the back of the van with Judith and Carl, finally feeling the adrenaline wear off

“I feel sick” I groaned leaning against the window

“Just sleep, we’ll worry about everything tomorrow”

Taglist: @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @willowshadenox @thebadbatch2022 @writer-ann-artist @i-wear-wet-socks313 @thestonedwriter @lettersfromyourlove @heidiland05

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #46: An old friend

I found myself sitting at the dining table in my boxers. I didn’t know why I was there. I didn’t even remember getting out of bed. And everything just felt a little...off. Slow. Like I was underwater.

The kettle was on. Someone was pouring tea. Fannie...?

I looked into the kitchen to see who it was—and my heart leapt into my throat.

No. No way. Nononononononononono—

“Would you like milk or honey in your tea?” he asked, like he owned the place. When I didn’t say anything—because I was in shock—he added both, and he looked like he knew exactly where to find everything in the kitchen. Again—as if he freaking lived here.

“I…I need clothes,” I uttered stupidly, but when I tried to stand, I couldn’t. Like...I couldn’t even get my butt off the seat. I could turn my head. Move my arms. I could kick, even. But any neural impulses I tried to issue with the command for my body to stand were blocked. I couldn’t even try. When I tried, it looked no different from me sitting still.

I began to panic, my breath going shallow, high up in my chest. I was trapped. I was stuck. My heart was racing. And then...I felt a hand on my shoulder, as he set the mug of tea in front of me, and the anxiety was sucked out of me immediately—through his fingers, it felt like.

And then...I felt…okay. Good, even.

I mustered up the nerve to look at him, and...he didn't seem quite as tall as I remembered. And I thought to myself…he wasn’t so scary at all. Yeah…I could take him.

He sat down adjacent to me and looked me over.

“You’ve grown up,” he said with approving satisfaction, like Uncle Luke would say. “I can tell you’re no longer the weak little boy.”

I didn’t say anything. But I did drink some tea.

It was unexpectedly good. I don’t usually put stuff in my tea.

“It would seem you’ve taken to physical training, as well,” he remarked with amusement. “The results are evident enough. Well done.” He took my arm by the wrist, and raised it to look at my torso. I let him do it. Whatever.

“Kinda wish I was wearing clothes,” I muttered into the mug. “So anyway…why are you here? Besides to check me out, of course.”

He chuckled. “You’ve become so much more insolent, as well.”

“I’ve always had a tendency for insolence," I returned warily. "Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

“No…you’re right, Solo. You always were impertinent,” he said mirthfully, as if it was some kind of inside joke between us. “But it was something I once stamped out of you, for a time." He sighed—the kind of sigh you give when you relive fond memories. "Ah, well... I no longer wish to be your master.”

Well...that wasn't what I'd expected to hear.

“...Why? Did you find someone else?” I asked, feeling kind of uneasy, the mug warming my hands.

“Oh, no," he said, in a tone that sounded like it was meant to be reassuring. "You’re the only one in the galaxy with as much potential for greatness as you have, and so it is such a shame you’ve chosen to lead a life of mediocrity. But, I respect your decisions, and I am content to let you go…which is more than could be said of your mother.”

I squinted at him, trying to scan for a sign of dishonesty. “Well...then why are you here?”

“Because I sensed you needed help,” he said, looking sympathetically at me. His eyes were so blue. Like pale sapphires. Like summer morning skies. “You’ve been very ill recently. And…lonely, is that not so?”

“I think I’d prefer solitude to your company, thanks,” I said, burying my nose in the mug of tea.

“Hm. How odd... I could have sworn I felt you call out to me,” he said curiously, fixing me with his blue, blue eyes, and resting his chin in one pale, gnarled hand.

My blood ran cold.

…So what if I had? I hadn’t thought he’d actually come.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied. “I’m doing just fine.”

“No, no…you’ve been miserable,” he said, seeming to see into my soul. “You’ve felt so alone. Like nobody really loves you. Your own family doesn’t even know you’re sick. You have so few friends. What friends you do have are faceless holonet strangers. And the girl…you wonder if she’s forgotten you, now that she isn’t here.”

I blinked uncomfortably, tugging on the friendship bracelet tied around my wrist. “You…you know about Fannie?”

“Oh, I know," he nodded. "I remember her. The one you slapped across the face. Hopefully, she hasn't held that little incident against you." He gave me a toothy smile. "Yes...how interesting indeed, that your feelings toward her have shifted so strongly. I’ve seen those dreams you’ve been having, boy. I have to say...I didn’t know such passions lived inside of you.”

My face went hot. I knew exactly what he was talking about, but...it wasn't really something I had come to terms with, or felt ready to discuss. And I definitely didn’t want to be talking about it with him.

"I've been through some changes," I muttered. "Maybe a little later than most. Turns out it can kind of mess up your ability to be close with people, having someone invade your head."

"Oh, but weren't we close, you and I?" he asked, looking hurt.

"Too close," I said, glaring at him. "I almost died because of you."

"Now, now," he chided. "It's hardly fair to blame someone else for the fact that you were mentally weak enough to attempt suicide."

Well, kriff. He was really gonna say that to me?

"I'd like to attempt you-icide," I shot back with barely-restrained rage. "Bitch."

He chuckled. "Very clever. Though I don't think your girlfriend would have approved of the latter addition. Still, you do have quite a way with words, don't you? But I suppose that's how you were able to succeed at taking the next step in your career. Congratulations, by the way."

"Gee. Is there anything you don't know about me?"

"I know as much about you as anyone who truly cares about you would," he said. "And I probably know more about you than anyone else in your life does."

"Well, congrats, I guess. You want, like, a medal or something?"

"Oh, no, the chance to catch up with you after all these years is more than prize enough," he said coolly.

"Doesn't sound like you needed catching up," I said warily. "Sounds like you were pretty damn caught up before we even started talking."

He smiled, but didn't explain.

"All the same," he said warmly, "it is such a pleasure to be reunited with you once again, Ben Solo."

"Well, the feeling ain't mutual," I told him. "You do know I'm gonna tell my family you showed up here tonight. Don't you?"

"'Here'?" he repeated, looking surprised. "Where is 'here'?"

"Um, my freaking apartment?"

"Is it?"

"What kind of a question is that?" I snapped, but...then I looked out the window, and...saw...nothing. There was...nothing. It wasn't white. It wasn't black. It wasn't gray. It was nothing. I don't know how to describe it. There was nothing outside my window.

And then I looked at the wall chronometer to check the time. But I couldn't read it. It was like the numbers were blurred out. I couldn't see them no matter how I squinted.

And I still couldn't stand up.

He leaned in closer, placing a long finger underneath my chin. "I would advise you not to tell your family about our little meeting tonight," he said quietly.

"Oh, please. You're gonna have to try something better than that," I growled, jerking my head away. "I'm not scared of you."

"No, Ben, you don't understand," he said, in a way that sounded almost pleading, and the hairs on my back stood up, because I don't think he had ever called me by just my first name before. "I'm scared for you. Your family would react so unreasonably if they found out. You know what your mother is like. She would force you to move back home. She'd be paranoid, never letting you have a moment to yourself for fear of me. Think of all you have now: a brand new job. A budding romance. Your life as an adult, with your own credits and your own schedule and your own hobbies and pursuits. You are certainly no longer a child. Yet...she would treat you as one, if she knew. And no number of years would be able to convince her that you are an adult."

...He was right. I had to admit it. He was right.

"...Have...have you been planning this?" I asked, my voice weak.

"Oh, I'm not much of a planner," he said breezily. "I prefer to simply let things unfold and work around them. But it will be quite a challenge for you to work around your new circumstances...if your mother should become convinced you are in danger, and give you no choice but to move back home."

I shook my head in disbelief. Yes...he was right. Telling Mom was...just..not an option for me.

"And that's not even considering what might happen, if she grows too afraid of you to keep you around the house," he said with growing concern, as if the thought had suddenly crossed his mind. "Perhaps she might prefer to send you to your uncle's school to be brainwashed."

"Funny, you talking about brainwashing," I mumbled.

"Ben, please," he said. "I have only ever encouraged you to break away from the things you were raised to believe, and to think for yourself. Your decision was to reject my teachings. That is perfectly fine. But, if you ever trained under your uncle, and if you ever began to stray from his narrow idea of good and the light...he would turn against you in an instant. And so would your mother. And so would all of them." He paused. "Even the Twi'lek girl."

I had a brief vision of Fannie, looking like she had been torn up in battle, with tears streaming down her face. I'm sorry, Ben, but I have been called to banish darkness wherever it is found. I should never have loved you...and I don't think I believe that you ever really loved me. She ignited her saber and charged at me—and then the image vanished.

It was a haunting apparition. I couldn't speak.

"Speaking of her..." he said, a mischievous note in his voice, his thin lips curling. "Do you think you'll ever tell her about those naughty little dreams you've been having? How you whisper her name in your sleep?"

He was loving this. I knew it. Just trying to get in my head and mess me up.

"No," I said, annoyed that he'd brought up something so stupid just to humiliate me.

"And why not? Surely she deserves to know what sordid fantasies she stars in."

"Because they're just dreams," I snapped. "I don't know why I dream about that. But dreams aren't always something you can control, and they don't always mean anything. Just because you have a dream doesn't mean it has any bearing on the real world at all. Brains do funny things."

"Hm," he said with a small smile, stroking his chin. "I do agree completely."

And as he said that, the kitchen began to melt away, like rain ruining a sidewalk drawing, and I could feel blankets forming around me as I stared at him, confused, and then all at once everything came into focus and I was staring up at the ceiling, tangled in my bedsheets, the afternoon sun peering through my window blinds, my brow beaded up with sweat.

I grabbed the thermometer on my nightstand and took my temp.

My fever had finally broken. And, maybe, so had my mind—

But. Then again. Brains do funny things.

I stood up, feeling a little dizzy, and ventured into the kitchen. I could see the rest of the apartment complex out my window. The time was 4:03pm. The kettle was room-temperature, and the mugs were all in the cupboard, and the last sachet of peppermint tea was still in the box, unopened.