#and it ends up just being. exhausting. anyway

[alwaysshallow]

when you get lost in the mountains, john price finds you. is that good? depends how you look at it, honestly.

it's a calm trip; something that you needed after exhausting five years in a job that didn't feel satisfying, job that you were constantly stressed in. you made a few friends, yeah, but not meaningful enough for you to feel bad because you left. at some point, you think that they are jealous of your courage to leave that shitty job.

now, even that you're unemployed, you feel a bit happier that you have more control of your life.

the feeling of being completely independent is something that you've wanted for a long time. of course, it's gonna probably last till you'll try to find a job, but that's a future you problem.

anyway; that's why the trip is good. you're alone with your thoughts, happier than ever, hiking with your headphones on. you don't exactly know how long you're gonna be here - maybe a few weeks, maybe another week. it's the moment you try to cherish the most. bonding with nature, feeling closer to it than ever.

everything feels like it's straight up from a fairytale - excluding the fact that you fuck up and you go the wrong way. you can't find a way out, the forest feels like a giant maze. it's ironic enough; something that is supposed to be an open space, now feels like a boa that is circling around your throat.

fear eventually sets in, and you decide to just stay the night in a small tent of yours that you thankfully brought - just to be woken up by some stranger a few hours later.

he's nice, well behaved. smiling apologetically, saying something about helping you. you have no reason to not believe him, when he says that he's gonna help you get out of there. he’s the epitome of a kind man, someone that you trust immediately.

maybe that's why you don't mind that he invites you to his cabin. maybe that's why you agree to sleeping here - because it seems reasonable, doesn’t it? it’s the middle of the night, after all. everything is more dangerous, you don’t want to get hurt, or for the john to get hurt either. tomorrow you’re leaving anyway.

you quickly learn it’s a lie that he serves you several times.

“Heard something ‘bout bear attacks,” he says, when you’re tying your shoelaces. you accept that, makes sense after all, he knows the terrain. You have no reason to think that he’s lying.

the next day, a thunderstorm. you don’t even think of leaving when the world is basically ending outside. besides, john takes good care of you; he cooks, makes you a warm bath, watches movies with you that are way too old for your liking, but it's good entertainment anyway.

it’s the third time you try to leave and you feel something is wrong, when you trip and you can't stand up. a hole in the stairs, as you see. something that couldn't appear overnight. before you give it more of a thought, john appears.

he's deeply concerned, you see that; he even rushes to the car, just to get back to you five minutes later with a frown.

when he says that his car is broken, it doesn't upset you so much. it scares you, the coincidence.

or the lack of it.

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' or a night shift, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

[pearlfeline]

Homesick

peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tw: none

a/n: i used to write for hp and i tried to start anew with this blog but it failed lol. (might still write for hp if i feel like it) but i luv peter and wanted to write for him so bad. i kinda didn't know how to end this but i thought it was fun to write anyway. thanks for reading.

"What can I getcha?" You attempted a decent smile, though Peter could tell you were tired. He knew tired. He IS tired.

Peter, blinking that thought away, snaps back into reality. He is in a small diner, and he took too long deciding outside the door if he wanted to go inside, so to avoid looking stupid he shuffled inside and sat down.

"Banana wheat cake... Is it any good?" He lets out a dry chuckle.

You press your lips into a thin line. "I know I work here but..." You bit your bottom lip, tucking your pen behind your ear. You drew closer to Peter so he could hear you. "It sucks. Get the breakfast combo." You winked, tracing a circle around the menu item. Peter unintentionally takes in a whiff of your perfume, giving him a hard time remembering what you just recommended.

"It comes with a free coffee." You flip open your notepad again, and as you grab the pen from behind your ear, a piece of hair falls to your face.

"I-I'll get that then." Peter closes the menu handing it back to you.

"Great. Bacon or sausage?"

Peter catches a lump in his throat. Almost as if words were filling to the brim and he couldn't say a word.

"Bacon." He smiles but keeps his gaze on his hands. They were almost uncontrollably fiddling with each other.

"Got it. I'll be right back with that."

Peter watches as you quickly let go of your charm to catch up with refills of coffee. You worked hard every day just to make rent but you never complained. Peter was never a customer until today, yet he could tell so much about you. His eyes couldn't help but follow you wherever you went.

His eyes followed you around the counter, grabbing a tray and putting his food on it. You were trying to keep him from waiting any longer and picked up the pace approaching his booth.

“Oh!” You slip, losing grip of the tray holding Peter’s breakfast.

Before you could react to the impact of the floor, you were pulled up. You opened your eyes and find Peter’s arm over your waist, successfully maneuvering the tray to grab everything that flew.

“Great reflexes.” You looked up at him with bewilderment.

“Thanks.” He shyly loosened his grip on your waist. You pull down and flatten your apron. “Whew. That was incredibly lame of me but surprisingly cool for you.” You let out a chuckle, making sure nothing was ruined on his plate.

“Why surprising?” He replied. “Do I look like a loser?” He suppressed a small smile.

“No you just look more… smart cool and maybe a possible ninja? I don’t know what else to call what you just did.”

Peter lets his smile crack a little, taking a sip of his previously airborne coffee.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re not lacking physically because you’re a book smart type of guy.” You give him a quick once over cheekily.

Before Peter can panic and come up with a mess of a response, a disgruntled old man cuts the moment short. “Coffee! Hello?” He slams his mug on the table.

“Duty calls.” You gave him a small wave, quickly making your way to the opposite side of the diner.

Peter spent the remainder of his time quietly finishing his breakfast, stealing quick glances at you.

Watching you smile even though you’re probably overwhelmed and exhausted. The hardest part was deciding when to leave. He had to go eventually to avoid being a creep. He had finished his food ten minutes ago. Before he leaves, he folds a $20 dollar bill into an origami heart, leaving it on the table.

The next morning, Peter walked a little faster, posture a little straighter, and smiled a little more.

Peter wanted to see you again. He knew not to tell you about the past, but what would be so wrong just talking to you? He attempts a nonchalant glance through the windows, making sure you were inside before walking in himself.

Peter gives you a shy head nod, making his way to sit at the counter instead of a booth.

"There's the generous tipper from yesterday. Hi, I'll be right with you." You got up from speaking to your coworker and greeted Peter.

"Was my service that good?" You flip open your notepad.

"The best." Peter pretends to study your name tag. "...Y/N."

"Well, thanks..?" You tilted your head slightly.

"Peter."

"Ah, Thank you, Peter."

"I won't be her for long, I just wanted a coffee."

"And you came here?" You snickered. You only half meant that statement. You didn't know why, but seeing him a second time was making your dreary work day go by easier.

"Yeah, in case you decided to fall again today."

You gasp, being dramatically 'offended'. "I'll let that comment slide... Since you gave me that nice tip. Even though I was struggling to unravel it for a while in my car." You grab a pot of coffee, pouring it into a cup that says 'print design here'.

"Thanks." Peter chuckles.

"No sugar?" You asked.

Peter's gaze slowly reached yours. "How did you know?"

"Know what?" You raise an eyebrow innocently. "Nobody here drinks black coffee unless they're over fifty or a pretentious student. Oh, were you afraid to ask this whole time? Hold on." You reach and dig into the pocket of your apron.

"N-no, it's fine. I don't really drink sweet coffee anymore." Peter's face falls in defeat. Of course, you wouldn't remember his order. Peter had to remind himself that he was a customer and a customer only to you.

"So, you're a pretentious student huh? No wonder I got a big tip. Let me guess you're studying tech?"

Peter shakes his head. "Biochemistry. Though, I do have somewhat of a tech background. I-" Peter almost rambles on but catches himself. "I'm poor. Not really enough money to be pretentious." He sinks into his seat, taking a sip to cover his face.

"Dude, do you know how tipping works? You can't be poor and tip me $20 after a breakfast combo from a dingy part of the city."

"You work hard." Peter scratches his neck. "...At least from what I've seen." He sighs.

"Are you actually poor?" You start wiping down the counter to keep your boss off your back for being unproductive.

Peter sheepishly avoids your eyes.

"...I'm poor too." You smiled. "If that wasn't painfully obvious by how I look."

"No. Not at all." Peter took this opportunity to take in your appearance. You looked exactly the same. Even though it had taken months for him to face you again. It's like your eyes were waiting right where he saw them last, inviting you in.

Unknowingly, you take his one-sided reunion with you as innocent flirting.

"I get off at 5." You blurted out. Why were you so inherently flirty all of a sudden?

Peter straightens his posture as if that would help him hear you properly. He blankly stares at you as you do the same for a response.

“…Are you free..? Or interested?” You throw the towel over your shoulder.

“YE-yes. Yeah. I have no classes today I can come get you of course but I don’t have a car I just walked here but not from far.” He rambles.

You visibly relax your composure as that alone was enough evidence that Peter was just a nerd without the rich snob part. Though he kept the physique of someone who would visit his rich dad’s personal gym.

“Here's my number. I’ll get you an actual good meal.” You shyly look down at your feet, ignoring your ugly, work-approved kitchen shoes.

“Deal.” He pays for his burnt diner coffee, and leaves an appropriate tip this time.

You sneak in one last wave before he disappears around the street corner.

This shift couldn’t have gone any slower for you. The wait from 4:00 to 5:00 was the most excruciating pain of consecutive boringness.

When it was time to clock out, you rushed out the back, shoving your work shoes into your book bag and trying to fix your disheveled hair that had been put up by a pencil this entire time.

You rushed to the front of the diner while putting on your wrinkled sweater to mask the smell of butter off you at least a little.

You waited. And waited. And waited some more. 5:15. Why was he late? Did you scare him off? Is he never coming back to the diner? Was that big tip an accident? Maybe he took out the wrong bill and played along today just to avoid being awkward.

“Shiiit.” You groaned. You looked around the intersection. “Maybe he’s rushing towards me?” You thought. “He’s gonna come around any second and say sorry frantically like the nerd he is.”

He didn’t. He never showed. You waited for an hour more and just decided to walk home.

As you were walking along the dark and wet sidewalk, you were internally thanking yourself for bringing that sweater, but cursing because you wanted to take the scenic route and walk to work today.

“Hi miss.” A voice called from behind you.

You turned around to see Spider-man.

“Oh wow, hi?” You’ve never seen him this close before. The rainy afternoon gave his suit an exaggerated glimmer and despite his bug eyes, he didn't seem scary while approaching you.

“Why would a pretty lady like yourself be walking alone?” He starts walking beside you holding out an arm for you.

“Well, I was supposed to leave work an hour ago.. Something came up.” You take his arm cautiously. “I usually walk home anyway, nothing different today.”

Peter feels a lump growing in his throat. Even when he ditched you, you don’t insult him.

“Except… it’s an hour later. That means it’s an hour’s more worth of danger out here.” He jokes.

You nod, not really the response he was expecting. Spider-man was not getting the same treatment as Peter.

“Something wrong?” He felt wrong asking immediately. Yes something’s wrong. He was wrong.

“I just.. I’ve been feeling empty almost. Recently it’s like… It’s like I’m missing something. Not completely empty, but enough absence to feel hopeless. I had a date today and he didn’t show.” You almost continue until you looked up to realize you were talking to a bug man.

“Sorry. It’s dumb. I don’t expect you to understand or help.” You chuckled dryly.

Peter wanted to tell you everything so badly. He was already pushing it by seeing you again. Giving you a second taste of danger. But he burned for you. Maybe the first time was a sign. This was a new opportunity to keep you safe and he blew it. He crawled back to you desperately just for a glimpse of you. To see that you were okay. Now he’s knees deep in a new relationship with you and you didn’t even know.

“It’s not dumb.” He quietly answered. Peter on his way to get you, was leaving his apartment when he saw someone being robbed. “Maybe he ran late?”

You scoffed. “For an hour? More like he forgot.”

Peter knew convincing you to forgive him was bad. He knew doing the opposite was for the best. To tell you to forget Peter. But he couldn’t. He had you right here. Like he used to.

“Things happen.” He shrugged. “What if he got robbed?”

“Wouldn’t you have helped him?” You replied, unimpressed.

“Oh. Well I did help a really handsome dude and he got robbed. Was he like an attractive guy or..?”

“He’s cute." You admitted.

Peter blushes under his mask. Though you had said more affectionate things to him before, apparently he still gets giddy.

"Well, I'm sure he didn't forget someone as pretty as you."

You let out a scoff. "Did you drop down next to me to take me home safely or be stupid?"

Under the mask, Peter had a huge grin. He was proud of you. Still the same in how you always know how to avoid trouble. He rarely ever had to save you. You were too smart. No stranger was safe from you, not even Spider-man.

"Sorry." He says cheekily.

You both eventually reach your apartment though Peter had to act oblivious that this was your home.

"This is me. Thanks Spider-man." You tug on a zipper from your bag, reaching for something in the bottom. Gummy worms

"I don't know if you take payments but uh, I was going to share these with my date. It's my lunch I forgot about. Don't judge."

Peter feels a pang of guilt hit his chest. "Th-thanks... you really don't have to." He slowly takes the bag.

"It's okay really."

Peter sighed. "Look, if that guy is actually stupid enough to ghost you, just call me."

"How do I call you?"

"Like this; SPIDER-MAN SPIDER-MAN AGHHH THAT IDIOT NEVER CALLED ME BACK!" Peter ran around in a circle mocking a girl's voice.

"And you'd help me from wherever you are?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I have pretty good hearing." Peter comically dusts off his shoulder.

"Alright man, no excuses. Even if you're fighting off a giant monster or something you have to help me."

"Something tells me I won't need to. Y'know? One of my powers is basically a gut feeling that's always right." Peter puffs up his chest proudly.

You let out an amused exhale. "You're a nerd. See ya." You went inside, waving without looking behind you.

"See ya." Peter says quietly. As soon as he saw you disappear around the corner, he zipped to the top of a random building.

"hey y/n, so so so so so so sodsdo sorry for ditching you. PLS FORGIVW ME!!! had family emergency. wanna meet tmrw???" Peter mumbled along as he typed, two gummy worms stored in the side of his cheek.

"I sound so lameee haha." Peter thought. He goes to delete but presses send.

"Man."

[gauloiseblue]

Every Day, You'll Hear Me Say

(Kyle Garrick × Reader)

[Fluff | No Warnings Apply]

On the day of their marriage, when the newlyweds were asked about how they met, their stories would be touching. Some loves bloomed at the first sight, some had existed long before they even realized it.

Yours, however, began with a comedic story.

It was early in the morning on Thursday, just one day after you moved to the new place. You were exhausted from all the cleaning and moving boxes, and you'd sleep the whole day if not for your growling belly. You couldn't possibly go too far, so you settle with the sandwich bar near your apartment.

You didn't pay that much attention to your surroundings, moreover to the other customer beside you. So when you heard your name being called, you grabbed the order without looking. It's not until you took a bite that you noticed the mistake.

"I didn't order this." You told the staff, and she furrowed her brows.

"You're Reese, right?"

You nodded.

She looked just as confused as you, before the other staff came and flusteredly explained the situation.

"I'm sorry, we got your order mixed up with the man here. His name is also Reese."

You turned your head to the side, and saw the man she referred to. There was a trace of surprise in his face, but it's been replaced with amusement, for an obvious reason.

You felt your face heated up, as you covered your mouth.

"Oh my God." You stuttered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know—"

"It's alright, you look starving." He chuckled, before he reassured the staff when they apologized.

"Let me buy you a new one."

"No, it's really ok." He smiled, "My treat."

You tried to pay him back, but you ended up with two sandwiches. And one drink.

At the table, you apologized to him once again, but he shrugged it off.

"Don't worry about it, it's just a small thing." He told you, "You should worry about yourself, you look like you could faint at any time."

You rubbed your neck as you looked away, "I haven't slept since I moved here, so…"

"No wonder you look unfamiliar." He said, "So, your name's Reese?"

"No, that's my Starbucks name." You sheepishly smiled, "I assume yours is Reese?"

"No." He softly laughed, "It's also my Starbucks name."

"Really?" You said in surprise, "It's not Reese?"

He shook his head. "Why? Does the name suit me?"

"Kind of." You replied, "You look rather sweet."

You slapped your hand on your mouth as you realized what you just said.

"No, I mean—it’s not like that—I didn't mean it that way or whatever—" You groaned, "This is embarrassing."

"That's alright, I used that name for that reason.” He said, “My friend once did an experiment by asking strangers if I looked like Reese or my real name, and most of them answered Reese." He grinned as he quipped, "One of them even told me that he wanted to “eat me up” because I reminded him of Reese's."

"What," Your eyes widened at his story, before you burst into laughter, "Wait, did someone really say that?"

"Why would I lie?" He smirked as he took a sip of his drink, "What about you? Why did you use that name?"

You scratched your cheek, "It's for a boring reason, really."

"Tell me anyway."

Just like that, your story began with a simple talk.

You'd laugh whenever it’s being retold—either by you or by him. Because your version was different from his, and both of them were amusing. For you, it was an embarrassing day. But for him, it was the best day of his life. You’d kick him under the table for saying such cheesy things, yet a wide grin would betray you as you scold him.

Of course, it’s not the only story worth telling, since it’s just the beginning.

The next story is much less interesting, but memorable still.

On a particular morning, you bumped into him in the hallway. He's in his sportswear, with sweats still forming on his forehead. He had a thin hoodie on him, and kept his hands inside the pocket. You wouldn't look at him twice if the bump in his pouch wasn't bean shaped.

It didn't take long before his pocket whined, which, that itself was impossible. Unless something else was inside that pouch.

"I, uh—I have to go." He quickly fumbled, "See ya around."

"Wait—"

Before you could stop him, he already disappeared behind his door. Leaving you in the hallway, dumbfounded.

Though it didn't take long for you to figure out what it was. Since the smuggled item was quite vocal.

A few days later, as you took a shower, you heard a high-pitched howl from next-door. Along with the lecture from your neighbor.

"I wouldn't do this if you didn't roll in the dirt, Lou."

A loud protest soon followed, as well as a splash.

"Alright." You could hear him sigh, "I'll give you a treat after this, yeah? How's that sound?"

From that moment, the fuss slowly died down, as gentle coos replaced the argument.

"Good girl."

You quietly chuckled, as you washed off the remaining bubbles. While you reached out to grab the towel, the thought of treats came up to your mind.

Maybe the pup would love blueberries.

The next day, when you made your way to your door, you slipped a bag onto his door handle, with a sticky note attached to it.

You could remember exactly what was written in it, but you received the reply not long after. "Thank you for the gift." He told you, as you both retrieved letters from the mailbox, "She likes it very much."

You raised a brow at him, before you caught the context.

"Oh." You muttered out before you smiled, "I'm glad to hear it."

You both stared at each other, and would continue to do so if he didn't chance it.

"Do you want to meet her?"

The question rolled out with a slight tremble, as if he's both eager and hesitant about it. You studied him for a moment, before deciding on the answer.

"Yes," You said, "If you don't mind."

Which seemed to hit the mark, since his doubts were quick to disappear.

You couldn't get why he was unsure at the beginning, but you later found out that pets weren't allowed in the buildings.

The little pup is a mixed breed, with dark eyes and 4-colored furs. She wagged her tail when she saw you, and he had to scooped her up to quiet her down.

As you both settled back, he told you the story of how he found her, while you played with the pup.

“When I saw her on the side of the road, I knew something was off. She was too young to be left alone, and even if she was left unattended, she wouldn’t have strayed too far from the rest.” He said as he scratched her ear, “My only guess is that she’s left there by her previous owner, for whatever reason.”

“That’s so cruel.” You frowned, “Why couldn’t they put her into adoption or something?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, “But I suspected she came from an illegal farm, which means she had no birth certificate.” He explained, “Most adoption centers won't accept dogs from unknown sources, and sending them to the shelter would be a lot of work, since you’d have to write the admissions.”

“So they just threw her away?”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t think about it too much. It already happened, and there’s nothing I could do to change it.” He chuckled when she started nibbling his thumb, “Besides, it’s more important for me to give her home. That’s the least I can do for her.”

You looked at him as you quietly observed how he stroked her cheek. If he’s the one who cared for her, then there's no doubt she’s found her home.

There’s a saying that a simple gesture could mirror someone’s heart, and it’s not hard to see when it comes to him. At that time, you couldn’t explain why you had the urge to help him, all you knew was you wanted to. At least for Lou.

Negotiating wasn’t your forte, but after many bribes and sweet talks, you managed to convince the landlord to allow him to keep the pup. You arrived at his door right after you got the written permission, in which you showed him with a proud grin.

“You don’t have to play hide and seek anymore.” You told him, “You have the permit.”

He read the letter carefully, before he turned to you, wide-eyed.

“How did you get this?”

“Pure luck, I guess.” You scratched your cheek.

“Come on, you expect me to believe it?” He chuckled, “How am I gonna repay you for this.”

“You don’t have to.” You added when he’s about to protest, “Think of it as my way to return the favor.”

“Still, it’s too much.” He muttered, “Let me buy you dinner.”

The automatic response that you thought was to refuse him, but something stopped you from doing it. You stared at him in silence, with your mind running miles an hour.

“Please?”

It’s still curious how a single word could slap some sense into you. Because at that very moment, you understood your own feelings.

Oh, You thought. That’s why.

Without further knock-back, you accepted his offer.

The details of what happened during that night are fuzzy in your memory, since your head was swarmed with the thought of him. But you remember walking into your room, with a slip of paper and a loud heartbeat on your hand.

It wasn't hard to see how you'd struggle with a simple message that night. But it all paid off the moment his reply popped out.

Since that day, texting him would be a part of your routine. Whether it's a long conversation, or simply a good morning. Sometimes he asked you to keep him company on the evening walk, sometimes he asked you whether you're up for dinner. On weekends, you'd join him in the park—where Lou could run freely. He'd bring the sandwiches from the bistro, and you'd giggle when you read the name 'Reese' on the wrap.

Months would pass, and all the moments you shared would come to a pause.

It was 9:34 PM when you heard a knock on your door. You smiled as you thought of the suspect, and while you got it right, the mood that's reflected on his face was far from what you expected.

"What's wrong?" You asked.

It took a moment for him before he uttered a few words.

"I need your help."

It was a simple request, take care of Lou, but the way he said it was dreadful. As if he'd be gone for long.

"I can't take her to the dog care because I have to leave now. You can drop her off tomorrow, but please, keep her for tonight." He told you, "Here's my spare key, you can find whatever you need for Lou. I've put the money on the table, you can use it for her daycare."

"Where are you going?" You frowned, "When will you be back?"

"Airport." He looked away, "Got a call from my boss, saying it's urgent. I don't know when I'll be back, it can take a month or so." He shook his head, "If I don't come back… No, forget it. I'll leave it to you."

That night, you could only watch him as the elevator door slowly closed. Despite the haste in his steps, his face didn't mirror the same eagerness.

When you entered his place, you found Lou on the tousled cover. She curled up by the empty space, where the owner was supposed to be. For a moment, you thought of moving her to your room. But you decided against it.

You spent the night on the couch, reading the message he left on the table. He had given you an address to the pet care, along with the money he mentioned. It's still puzzling how he could entrust everything to you—so easily, that you could take it for granted.

You turned your head to the bedroom, where the pup slept soundly on his bed. She had no clue that he had left, and you doubted that she's prepared for it. And if you took her to the care, would she understand it? Would she know that it's only for temporary?

With your fist tightened, you chose to let her stay.

It's not for a noble reason, rather, you couldn't bring yourself to leave her in an unfamiliar place. You scolded yourself for being sentimental, but you’ve been with her long enough that you’ve grown fond of her. One month shouldn’t be long, you could handle it just fine.

And it’s true. One month wouldn’t be a problem for you. Alas, he didn’t come back on the supposed day. The marked number on your calendar had been crossed, and still, no news from him. The messages you wrote were sent, but never received. You’d stare at his profile, as you read the word ‘OFF’ on the status.

Each day, you worry would grow as you glanced at the date. What if something had happened to him? And if he doesn't come back, what would become of Lou?

As you turned your calendar page, you felt the apprehension when you saw the month. Twelve more days, and it’d be exactly three months after he left.

The pup sensed it too, as she whined whenever she passed his door. You tried to overlook her cry, until you couldn’t. You retrieved the spare key from your safe, and headed over to his place.

The room was still the same as you left before, though it felt a little bit colder. You brought the pup down and closed the door behind.

Lou dashed to his room with a wagged tail, as she followed the lingering scent of him. You followed her behind, and stopped on your track the moment you saw her pawing at his wardrobe.

“You shouldn’t open that, Lou.” You stated as you lifted her up, “It’s impolite.”

She writhed around in your hold, before letting out a low whine.

“I know.” You murmured, “I miss him too.”

You plumped down on the sofa, before you rested your head on the arm pillow. The scent of him still lingered on the fabric, and you curled up against it. Lou snuggled closer to you, as she slipped under your arm. You smiled when she began to yawn, you glanced at the clock and caught the arms in the shape of a tilted V.

It’s almost midnight, and you should’ve gone back to your room. But something tempted you to stay, lulling you to rest. To close your eyes, even for a moment. Like clockwork, you slipped into nothingness when you gave in.

At this point, with all the past tense that you’ve used, it shouldn’t be a surprise when the story will come to an end. As cliché as it might sound, he really did come back that night. Although much later, near the dawn.

When you rose up from your sleep, you felt the weight on your body that wasn’t present before. You tried to shift away from it, but it seemed to be on top of you. When you peeked through your lashes, a mass of grey came into your view.

You leaped from the couch as you recognized the cover. It was a blanket, and you’re one-hundred percent sure that you last saw it in his bedroom.

“Good morning.”

Until now, nothing could beat the speed of your stare as you snapped your head towards him.

He was standing by the table in comfortable sweats, with Lou nestled in his arms. There were plates on the table, and you were hit by the delectable smell of food.

“Are you hungry?” He put a metal plate down, before lowering her to the ground.

Still dazed, you ended up answering with another question. “When—” You gulped, “Since when did you come back?”

He turned to the clock, then back to you, “2 hours ago.”

“Oh.” you rubbed your face, and brushed your hair to the back. “Um, sorry I didn’t hear you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He offered you a glass of water, and you took it while you murmured a small thanks.

“You didn’t take her to the pet care.”

You lowered the glass after a few gulps. “Um.” You scratched your neck, “I felt bad leaving her by herself, so I took her with me. Besides, you didn’t tell me how long you’d be away.” You muttered the last part.

He chuckled when he caught it. “I’m sorry, I should’ve informed you beforehand.”

The two of you exchanged a look, which you couldn’t look away from. The heat started to rise, as it painted your cheeks in red. There’s something between you and him, something vague but palpable at the same time—

“Thank you.”

You blinked, as the thick air dissipated from you.

“For taking care of her.” He added, “I owe you one."

At that time, you didn't quite catch the underlying meaning of his words. Only years after that—as you laid beside him, with a new ring on your finger—you finally found the answer.

"You told me that the day you realized you like me was the day I gave you my number." He started, as he stroked your cheek tenderly, "And when you asked me the same question, I said I've loved you ever since you took my sandwich. But I only realized it the moment I came home to you sleeping. I was beyond exhausted that day, both physical and mentally. I thought I'd collapse when I came back, but as I walked through the door, all my tiredness just disappeared. In my mind, I was expecting to see an empty home. So you can imagine how surprised I was when I saw you there.

"You might not know it, but your presence means so much to me. I wasn't brave enough to say thank you, for being there for me, so I said whatever's appropriate at that time. But in my heart I knew; you're the one I'm gonna marry."

[mirandyficlists]

Fic Searches sometimes take Time.

Hey there my Mirandy Dandies hope you're all well.

After a number of particularly noxious Anonymous messages from someone, or possibly several someones, kvetching about oh so many shortcomings with my Tumblr site and my other actions in the fandom as a whole, I felt I needed to make this post to clarify a few things about:

What I do,

What I'm able to do.

What I'm willing to do

The way this platform works...something, bear in mind, that I can't change.

I am a diehard Mirandy Dandy and one of the things I love to do is to SHARE the goodness and to chat about fics whenever I can. Having been a victim of the loss of Angelfire and Geocities when so much amazing fic was lost to us in the Xenaverse and other of my earlier fandoms, when I became a Mirandy Dandy I was not going to see myself in the same limbo and made a point of fully harvesting all fics as they were posted and keeping external copies of my treasures, updated monthly whenever possible. I did this, by the way, from the beginning on LJ to the present and let me tell you, keeping track of and harvesting fics from LJ was not easy and took a hell of a lot of time copying and pasting but I did it to the best of my ability.

The Mirandyverse is now 18 years old (we should all buy us a drink…well in the UK anyway, lol.) and we have people finding the Dark Side every week. Now these newbies and youngsters have often never set foot on LJ, if they’ve even heard of it, some have never set foot on FFnet even not to mention places like Passion & Perfection and the Pink Rabbit Consortium, and therefor have missed out on some great gems and giants of the days when new fics came out thick and fast. Thus the difference between the 3732 fics recorded for DWP on AO3 and the 5422 fics I have listed on my spreadsheet. Added to this the number of fics that have since been deleted or lost in other ways and you end up with the Newbies truly missing out.  And so I try to spread the goodness as best I can and share my harvested treasures when asked, as well as letting the masses know about that on several different platforms.

Because I love the fandom as I do, a significant amount of my time is invested in it, but as with everyone, I have a real 3D life that demands my presence and attention regularly and sometimes exclusively when, well, when shit happens as they say. Add to this my personal disabilities and I sometimes struggle being able to do things and thus have to let some things, like fandoms, slide in order to cope with the day to day. But when I’m better I always come back. And my disabilities can bear good fruit too, in this case my fic Spreadsheets, necessitated for my enjoyment because of my medically induced memory problems but that have been used and enjoyed by the fandom as a whole. Silver linings and all that.

I am always willing to share the Mirandy goodness in anyway I can manage. I LOVE being able to send deleted fics to people who either haven’t read them or aren’t able to access their old favourites because they were deleted. Hence my spreadsheet which keeps track of the existence and whereabouts of about 97% of all Mirandy fics online. And also my Themed Rec lists, now numbering 157 different groupings. All of which assist me in helping out with fic searches which I always try to source whenever they are presented, and that sourcing includes seeking help of other Dandies on different platforms.  Now, just to clarify, none of these things are complete or exhaustive, but I do keep them up to date within the limitations stated above AND try to make sure to share them online at least every couple of years. I don’t mind doing it, it gives me pleasure, but to my nasty Nonnies from earlier and any other Trolls who might be lurking…I AM UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO DO ANY OF THE THINGS I DO FOR THE FANDOM. I do it out of love of the Mirandyverse and the vast, VAST majority of truly wonderful Mirandy Dandies.

Tumblr is, as we who tumble know, both glorious and hideous as far as social networking platforms go, and has always been meddled with by admin for the sake of selling it off and trying to monetize it into oblivion and not to actually improve the functionality for the users in anyway. And that is the arena in which I operate this Tumblr and adapt how I do so in order to accommodate my needs.

So just for your collective FYI specifically regarding Anonymous asked fic searches…

If you have sent an anonymous fic search and have not seen an answer posted for a very long while:        

I am NOT ignoring you.

                                I am NOT ‘being lazy.’   

                                I have NOT deleted your request.            

                                And believe it or not I have NOT forgotten about you.

I check my in box weekly to remind myself of the searches I am still tracking down, so

not getting a response to an Anonymous ask only means I have not yet found your fic, but I am still looking for the fic, when time permits me.

Because you sent an Anonymous ask, if I try to answer it and let you know that I’m still looking for the fic, the ask is removed from my in box and I no longer have it in an easily accessible place to remind myself to continue the search.   So instead, I keep the asks in my in box until I find the fic requested, which lets be honest my Dandies, given some of the descriptions or key points you sometimes give could be one of several thousand fics and it takes some time to sift through, lolol.  If you want to be kept updated on the search progress, then it is much better if you PM me directly so that I can communicate with you.

To finish off I do want to say, ANY Mirandy Dandy is ALWAYS welcome to contact me with asks and questions in what ever way best suits their needs all I ask is that you appreciate any limitations attached to your preferred method and behave accordingly.

The Mirandyverse is generally a stress-free and positive place to be and always has been, and it is my dearest hope that it continues to be a space free from the toxicity that often invades other fandoms.  To that end I will always continue to offer my services to fellow Dandies in a spirit of helpfulness and sheer Joie de Vive.

Long live the Mirandyverse!

[somber-sapphic]

hii could you possibly do a jj x reader book where reader is in denial abt being ill 🫶

Too Far

〖Summary: You and JJ have a fight about your health. This is my attempt at angst (with a happy-ish ending), just a heads up that I am still practicing so it may not count as real angst and instead h/c.〗

〖Word Count: 〗

〖Pairing: JJ x Sick R〗

〖Notes: Every time I drink caffeine for writing I think it's a great idea because I'll be able to write so much but then I focus on something that isn't writing for several hours. I played too much Toon Blast. Also this is sort of edited but not that thoroughly〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Y/n what the hell are you doing?” JJ asked, her words laden with exasperation. You looked up from the case file and raised an eyebrow. The two of you had been snippy with each other all day, each of your nerves fraying as the days without catching the killer went on. The fact that Hotch had ordered you to the hotel made everything worse, the guilt of not being able to help the victims eating at you.

“You want to check your tone?” You snapped back, the hoarseness of your voice taking a bit away from the punch you meant to deliver. It was probably for the best, the combination of exhaustion, stress, and what seemed like more than just the sniffles was making you bitter. JJ rolled her eyes and walked over to the desk, dropping the CVS bag beside the papers you had been studying for hours.

“Cold medicine. Take it. And seriously, put the file away and lie down.” You rolled your eyes, something that caused an explosion of pain in your head, but it seemed worth it for the passive aggressiveness. You didn’t want her to know how bad you were starting to feel, you couldn’t give in to the pressure of the team, and everyone worked while they were sick. 

Your fever, stuffy nose, cough, and the pressure in your sinuses were not more important than catching a serial killer. Although the fever was really starting to bother you, weighing down your head and making your eyes burn. And your nose hurt from blowing it so often. And your body ached so badly that it felt like your bones were being squeezed. And your throat felt like you had lived off of a diet of lemon juice and broken glass.

“I don’t need cold medicine because I don’t have a cold. Why are you here anyway, I don't need a babysitter. Don’t you have families to interview?” JJ let out a harsh laugh and plopped herself down onto the bed, crossing her arms over her chest in clear frustration. What the two of you needed was a bit of space before a serious conversation but it wasn’t an option given the current situation. 

“Right, of course not. The obvious cold symptoms are nothing, you’re shivering in a 75-degree hotel room because of a nonexistent draft. And believe me, I don’t want to be here right now but Hotch doesn’t trust you alone.” That last comment cut deep and her face clouded with guilt as soon as she said it. She knew it was too far but it only hardened your resolve. 

“Then leave, there are six other people who could be here it doesn’t need to be you.” 

“Why won’t you just admit being sick? Why? You are not helping anyone here, the only thing you’re doing is hurting yourself. Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” JJ exploded, dragging a hand through her slightly greasy hair. She’d been too preoccupied with your health and the case to have time for more than a quick shower. 

“Do you honestly think I want to work like this? Of course, I feel like shit, my entire body is on fucking fire but if I stop working people will die!” You yelled back, tears brimming in your eyes. You’d finally said it out loud. You’d admitted to the thoughts that had been swirling inside of you, keeping you from even allowing people to talk about the way you felt. 

JJ’s face fell as you felt tears that you couldn’t blink away beginning to run down your fever flushed cheeks. You barely had a handle on your emotions before but now the walls had crumbled to dust and you couldn’t take it. You felt so shitty for so many reasons, it was so hot in your skin and you were struggling to keep case facts straight in your head which only upset you further. 

“Sweetheart,” JJ murmured, taking a half step forward. She’d seen you break down before but never on a case, when it happened it was always at home. 

“No! No! JJ we’ve been here for weeks, he keeps taking them and we don’t even know why, we can't tell these people anything. They hate us, they have every right to fucking hate us! There has to be something missing and-and I can't just sit here and do nothing while people are dying!” You were sobbing now, your chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself down. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hug, a self-soothing method that usually worked to calm you down. The switch had been flipped, you were acting on pure misery. 

“Y/n, honey you said it earlier. There are six other profilers doing everything they can to find the killer. You being sick is not your fault but it is something we need to take care of. If you keep going like this you’re going to mess up, you’re going to hurt yourself, there are so many reasons why you need to rest. Come here, lay down, let me take help you. Please.” 

She was right. You hated it, but she was. You were already mixing up facts about victims in your head, there was really no way that you could be of any use right now. The last thing you wanted to do was stop but even worse would be providing false information that would throw the team off the trail. 

Despite your hesitation, it didn’t take long for JJ to get you settled into bed. She was working with the determination of a worried mother hen, moving quickly to check your temperature, feed you some medicine, and put a cool cloth on your head. You huddled under the fluffy duvet, your body already beginning to shut down now that you weren’t forcing yourself to work.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I haven't been fair.” JJ said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. She flipped the cloth on your forehead, sending a wave of cold through your body. You didn’t like it but she insisted that it needed to be there. 

“Neither have I. But I can’t right now. Can we wait until we’re home?” You pleaded, voice exuding weakness. Even if you wanted to have that conversation there was no way it would be productive in your current state. JJ nodded in agreement and let out a deep sigh. 

Nothing had really been resolved. The apologies from both were surface-level at best but at least there was an admission of wrongdoing on both sides. Your jobs had been hard on the relationship, harder than either of you had thought it would be. For now, the discussion would be tabled, saved for a time when the two of you were in a space to have it. It might not have been perfect but it was better than nothing. 

〖Join My Taglist!〗 @villaneve4life, @lots-of-pockets, @bloomingflowersthings, @lovelyy-moonlight, @scrambled-brain-eggs, @juststuckhereforever, @chairhere, @iliketozoneout

[strawglicks]

People are already whining abt the flag on grahams plushie be for real 💀

[azaracyy]

a lesson on good karma digimon survive week 2024 day 4: supporting characters

[silverskye13]

Man why is writing so hard today? I literally sat down at my computer and typed for a solid hour and a half and it was utter garbage. But the more I looked at it the less I could figure out how to fix it! So I pulled up PS and decided to draw instead but every image just flew out of my head I couldn't do it and really I should be writing and man my eyes hurt. My whole face hurts kinda, actually, but my eyes really hurt and it's so hard to focus and it shouldn't be this hard and-- Jesus Christ it's 1am and I only got 3 hours of sleep last night.

[deoidesign]

.

[unhingedlesbear]

Hoghhh after a long month of defending the following characters from an entire discord server, I'm running back to here to say:

-I love Mark

-I also love Ashley

-I ADORE Emily

-I think Alex is okay

-I like Salim a lot

-I love Rachel

-I love Taylor

I am far less likely to get attacked here than there <3

[itspileofgoodthings]

I give my grad speech in a week, have been writing a million versions of what I want to say in my head all year, talked to my mom last night, boy did she separate the wheat from the chaff.

[echo-s-land]

It's insane how most of the time I don't get how ppl interact and I also Don't Fucking Care

[wayfinderships]

AUUUUUUGH! I miss my little guy your honor!! I miss him so damn much!!!

[designernishiki]

I never finished the telephone club stuff in 0 until today (currently replaying 0, trying to 100% the game) and like. actually. what the fuck was up with the bad-end telephone club dates. like. not even exaggerating, completely unironically, it is fully implied that kiryu got fucking raped. multiple times. as a joke. that’s absolutely fucking wild

[drawredasdawn]

Day Five -> July 20th: Role Swap, Secrets, Trust

Read More For (Very Tame) Nakey Ladies (Coriane Jacos/Elara Merandus)

I, your best kept secret,

Whisper into your shadows

With heated breaths, gentle sighs.

You, my best kept secret,

Moan as I enter

Eyes roll back, muffled cries

-Onur Taşkiran