#but this is a start/ I’m doing something with my life even if it’s small

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

masterlist

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

[ivyppoison]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

pairing. jason todd⠀𝒙⠀ civilian!fem!reader

request. “need some angst about being worried about Jason's exes and after babying you, he fuck's those thoughts out your mind (he's both gentle and rough).”

words. 1.297k

warning(s). derogatory language, fingering, sexual themes

note. I might start screaming right now bc tumblr fucked w how reblogged posts look like if they are attached to an ask, & it’s trying me insane, so I decided to change the setup of my posts again <3 this ask had me giggling so much, so thank you anon. once again, if any of those scary minors dni blogs attack me, i will start crying ── yours sincerely, max

APPARENTLY, IT WAS unhealthy to feel so jealous and insecure about yourself in this relationship.

Apparently, you had to discuss your feelings instead of standing from afar and pondering your intoxicating thoughts on your own.

Jason was possibly one of the most attractive men you had ever met, and the fact that you were in a relationship with him confused you slightly.

As you learnt more about his past, especially about his romantic life, you had started to feel self-conscious about the part you played.

Your boyfriend was a vigilante who had a depressing backstory, full of neglect and death. You were just a normal citizen of Gotham City. You weren’t a therapist or a vigilante who could relate to him.

You had nothing to give.

His exes were mostly vigilantes and superheroes like him. They had something special about themselves, you, on the other hand, had nothing.

From that, the thoughts started to invade your every move, perhaps he felt pity for you or simply wanted to get away from the vigilante dating scene.

One thing was for sure: you were simply ‘basic’ compared to all of his past relationships.

This thought had haunted you to the dinner you were having with him one night.

The kitchen table was close to clean after about half an hour of cleaning up, the sound of crickets and the evening bustle of Gotham city permeating through the window.

You rested on the table, your eyes following Jason’s figure as he paced throughout the kitchen, placing the clean dishes away.

He soon noticed your lingering gaze, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched you.

“You okay?” He asked, placing the cloth down as he walked over to you.

You let out a small hum, before looking up at him with glossy eyes.

You knew you could tell him anything, but humans were naturally born with a sense of judgement, no matter how much they loved or respected the other.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He asked, placing his hand on your back as a means to comfort you.

You peered at him slightly as his eyes locked with yours.

Pausing for a moment, you pressed your lips into a straight line, your eyes flickering between the features that adorned his face before meeting his soft, but assertive gaze once more.

“Do you think I’m enough for you, Jay?” You questioned under your breath, the volume of your words hardly reaching his ears.

“What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as both concern and curiosity twisted his face.

“Do you think I’m enough?” You repeated, trying to avoid his eyes so you couldn’t see how his face twisted once again into a face of benevolence and worry.

“Of course I think you’re enough, who told you that you weren’t?” He asked, using his pointer finger and thumb to raise your chin up, making eye contact with you once more.

“I was just thinking about all you exes and how I’m just so ── basic,” you huffed, leaning on the counter behind you as your eyes flickered to something, anything, behind Jason’s head to distract yourself. “Don’t feel special.”

Jason paused for a moment, thinking about what could be the next words that left his lips.

“Do you want to feel special?” He hummed, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“What?” You asked, staring back at him, both taken aback and flustered simultaneously.

“Do you want me to make you feel special? Because you are. Just want to make sure you know,” he added, a sense of cockiness now lacing his tongue.

As your eyes locked with each other, a small ‘yes’ left your lips, and as Jason’s eyes lit up at your answer, he didn’t waste any time intertwining your hands with his as he allowed you to lead him to your shared bedroom.

Peering up at him, you laid back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you tried to make out his figure in the darkness of the room, biting on your bottom lips as you watched, doe-eyed, him move elegantly in the dark, stripping himself of his shirt.

Jason moved, both hurriedly and gracefully, on top of you, his lips meeting yours in a deep and soft kiss, moving with yours in perfect unison.

His hand rested on your thigh, close to your pulsing core as his tongue pushed into your mouth, leaving you breathless.

He soon left your lips with a small pop, a small string of saliva joining the two of you together for a moment, before it broke.

“You want to repeat yourself then?” He hummed, a sense of cockiness in his voice as he peered down at you, his lips ghosting your jaw, pressing small kisses along the course of your skin

You stared at him through your lashes before shaking your head, squeezing your thighs together as his hand slipped onto the inner part of your upper legs.

“Use your words,” he murmured, using his hands to pry open your legs before your body followed suit, earning a small smirk on his lips.

“I don’t wanna repeat myself, Jay,” you whispered, biting your nail as you felt his finger hook the band of your underwear, the sudden invasion of cold air causing you to squirm slightly.

“Gonna fuck those thoughts out of your pretty head, gonna make you feel so special,” he smirked, dragging an impetuous finger across the bud of your clit after discarding your panties onto the bedroom floor, earning a small gasp from your lips as you leaned back onto the bed.

“You’re so wet f’me, baby, you’ve been thinking about this, huh?” He asked, his olive tinted eyes gazing softly at you, as you nodded with a small mellifluous hum.

Without hesitation, he sank two of his fingers into your cunt; unconsciously, you closed your thighs before he used his hands to pry them open once again, using his free hand to hold your leg to the bed.

Letting out yet another whimper, you closed your eyes as his name fell from your lips like a soft melody, a fucked-out expression already on your face as you let out a strangled moan.

The room was dark as none of the artificial lights were on but the soft glow from the street lights left the lights in a glow. The curtains softly blew in the night’s wind creating an almost bewitching scenery.

From the start of your more intimate relationship with Jason, he always felt insecure about the scars that littered his body, so whenever you initiated sex, you’d always leave the lights off.

Now that you were more comfortable with each other, you still found the poetic eroticness in being too close with each other in the darkness of the room.

The gentle yet potent movement of his fingers had you locked to the bed, your back arched slightly as small, almost pornographic whimpers and mewls escaped your lips.

Jason pressed endearing kisses to the oeuvre of your bare stomach as he thrusted in your needy core, grazing the bundle of nerves, so you brought your nimble fingers to his hair, raking through the strands gently in comparison to the continuous hurried feeling of his digits inside of you.

You squirmed underneath him, your breath hitching and breaking, telling him you were ‘so close’ as you squeezed your eyes shut.

As you reached your climax, you threw your head back as you revelled in the pleasure Jason brought you. Whispering his name repeatedly, you buried your face in the below besides you, flustered and dumbfounded.

“Look at me, baby,” he called, gently patting you repeatedly on the cheek, “already dumb and I’ve barely fucked you, huh? Might manage to fuck you senseless after all,”.

[canthelpit0]

Skinny

Pairing: bf!Chris sturniolo x Reader

Wordcount: 700

Summary: you talk to your boyfriend about the internet (literally just the song skinny, by Billie Eilish)

Warnings: really short, angst(?), body image, the internet, hurt/comfort (?), direct quotes, idfk

(Litterally wrote this during a 1h car trip, so it’s rlly short. I was listening to the song while writing this. Hope you guys like it tho <3)

I recently met the triplets in LA. We quickly became friends, but I always felt drawn to Chris the most.

Sure they’re all considerably hot, but there was just something about Chris that made me feel something..

Turns out I wasn’t the only one that felt it, and soon enough Chris confessed to me. Wich meant a lot, considering he has commitment issues, but he was willing to commit… for me?

We dated for a while until I realized,

I fell in love for the first time.

I may only be 20, but those 20 years felt so eternally long. Chris was everything I’d been waiting for all my life, being the hopeless romantic.

I started to go to the gym more often, and eat healthier. Not for any other reason then, I was happy.

I also started to notice that Chris’ Pepsi habits got better, and he started to eat healthier as well.

We were talking one day, both of us sitting on opposite sides of Chris’ bed.

“People say I look happy, just because I got skinny.” I sigh.

The only reason why I look happier is because I have a working healthy relationship, because I’m in love. Not because my body changed.

Chris tilts his head to the side his eyes slightly furrowed as if asking me if I’m serious.

But the ‘old’ me was still me. Maybe even the real me, my actual personality when I’m on my own, And I think she is pretty.

I never really had body image issues. I never struggled with eating.

I got famous pretty young, like 17 or so. And back then I was a kid, of corse I liked to eat. I wasn’t even that big really. I was just a kid, I didn’t care about it too much.

I’m not magically happier than I was before. I still cry.

“People say I’m acting my age now.” I sigh. “Am I already on the way out, am I ‘falling off’?”

Chris tilts his head not saying anything just trying to process my words. As if my words are outlandish to him.

“I feel like a bird in a cage, you know. With all these expectations and rumors.” I sigh softly. All these things have been bugging me for a while.

“I’m sorry.” He looks at me with not pitty but understanding. “You were my secret,” when we started dating we hadn’t told the internet. “- and I didn’t get to keep it”

But like couples do we would go out on dates. With both of us being touchy people, PDA was big. But a random fan took a picture of us kissing and it spread like wildfire.

I sigh heavily at the memories. How betrayed I had felt by those so called fans looking into my business.

“The internet is hungry for the meanest kind of funny, and somebody’s gotta feed it.” I purse my lips closing my eyes briefly.

“I suppose that’s true” Chris breaths out his eyes locked on mine.

“People really think suddenly all my problems are gone and I’m all happy, not because I’m in a healthy and stable relationship but because i got skinny.” I huff working myself up, and getting angrier and angrier at something that seems like nothing.

“Do you still cry?” I ask rhetorically, my previous breathy and small voice now loud and clear. “I mean I do.” I reply to my own question.

I look at my boyfriend and the way he looks back at me with such understanding.

We look at each other in silence. “I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long. And that’s not going to change.”

Chris says firmly a small gentle smile forming on his lips. Chris opens his arms waiting for me to come to him.

I’m not upset per se, it’s just annoying seeing people comment on my body and happiness and whatnot. It’s none of their business.

I’m a content creator. I didn’t ask for them to criticize me.

I sit up shuffling over to Chris. I let myself fall into his embrace.

But in Chris’, the love of my life’s arms, like this, it doesn’t matter anyway.

Masterlist

A/N: hope you guys like this style of writing. If h goys want to be on the taglist comment. Asks & requests are open 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog

[raina-at]

Weather

As those of you who follow my May ficlets surely know by now, I’ve set myself an unofficial goal to hit all of my AUs. So today I’m picking my quasi Narina AU called Lost Souls that, like, five people have read. This fic is what happens when I read Outlander, see Narnia, and read teenlock. (Tl,DR context for this ficlet: Sherlock and John are stuck in another dimension, that’s pretty much all you need to know. Also, they’re both about 18-20 in this ficlet, John is a medic, and Sherlock is working for local law enforcement)

--------

Weather, John thinks as he shakes out his umbrella, will never be a selling point of the British Isles, no matter in which dimension, no matter what they’re called. Sherlock gave him a long speech once about climate and sea levels and geology all being pretty much identical here, compared to the England they grew up in, so it stands to reason that the weather is equally rotten.

Well, since John has spent his entire life in England and then on the equivalent on Dera, he’s bloody well used to it.

Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though. 

He can handle rain and fog and everything in between. What he doesn’t like is when a day starts out beautiful and sunny and ends up in a deluge of truly epic proportions. He’s not that wet, because he was smart enough to stay at the clinic until the worst was over, but his coat will take ages to dry, and he dislikes the smell of drying wool. 

He’s just getting warm again, sitting on the sofa by the fire and enjoying a nice cuppa and the first chapter of a new novel Molly lent him when the door to their flat bangs open.

John turns around and starts laughing uncontrollably.

The thing about Sherlock is, he’s always gorgeous. But right now, soaked to the skin in his dark wool coat, hair wet and plastered to his head, dripping on the floor and wearing a pissy expression, he looks like nothing so much as a drowned cat. Specifically Toby, Molly’s black tomcat.

Sherlock glares at John, which makes the resemblance to a pissed off cat even greater. 

“I fail to see what’s so funny,” Sherlock grumps as he stalks into the sitting room, shedding his coat as he goes, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy splat.

“You look like Toby, that one time he fell into the suds bucket at the morgue,” John says between giggles. 

“I do not!” Sherlock all but hisses, which sets off John even more.

“Oh my god, now you sound like him too!”

Sherlock glares at him, then something in his eyes changes. He stalks over to John, who’s still on the sofa, and sits down straight in his lap.

“Oh my god, you’re cold!” John yelps, as the water dripping from Sherlock’s clothes start soaking through his trousers and shirt immediately.

“Warm me up, then,” Sherlock says, shaking his head so water droplets land all over John.

John laughs. “Great, now I’m getting wet because you don’t have the sense God gave small children to stay inside when it’s pouring outside.”

“Staying in just because it’s raining is boring, John,” Sherlock says, reeling John in and pressing his entire wet torso against John’s.  “You don’t want me catching cold, do you, Doctor?” Sherlock murmurs into John’s ear. Sherlock’s closeness, the whisper of breath against John’s ear, and Sherlock using his still very new title all together make John reconcile with the situation very quickly. The fact that he, the sofa, and the floor are getting soaked are of very minor importance compared to a wet, gorgeous and mischievous Sherlock Holmes in his lap.

He threads his fingers into Sherlock’s wet hair and pulls him in for a kiss. Sherlock tastes of rain and fresh air and pastries. “Mrs Hudson is baking?” John asks, pulling back a little.

“Very good,” Sherlock says, grinning at John, an obvious challenge sparking in his eyes and in the corner of his smile. “What else?”

John grins. Two can play this game, my friend, he thinks. He noses along Sherlock’s throat, smelling rain and traces of their soap and the faint trace of canal. He licks a few raindrops from Sherlock’s neck, and Sherlock gasps. “You went to see Billy.”

“Conjecture,” Sherlock murmurs, dipping his head back to give John better access to his neck.

“Fact,” John answers, sinking his teeth playfully into the taut muscle of Sherlock’s enticing throat. “You smell like the river,” he whispers, as he dips his tongue into Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock moans, and John grins into Sherlock’s skin. It took them a good while to find their stride, physically speaking, given that neither of them had an inkling of an idea what they were doing. But by now John knows Sherlock’s body so well, he knows exactly which strings to pluck.

“What else?” Sherlock asks, his voice no longer quite steady.

John draws back, surveying Sherlock like he’s a crime scene, knowing that this sort of scrutiny will turn Sherlock on even more. He kisses Sherlock again, licking deep into his mouth, chasing taste and sensation. He licks the corner of Sherlock’s mouth, and Sherlock moans around John’s tongue, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss, but John moves back, putting a finger over Sherlock’s mouth. “Moff’s bakery. Powdered birch sugar, you were at the doughnuts again.”

Sherlock nods, pulling at John for more kisses. John happily obliges.

“One more,” Sherlock whispers against John’s lips.

John grins and draws back a little. He runs his hands under Sherlock’s sopping wet suit jacket, pushing it off Sherlock’s shoulders as he fleeces the pockets. Nothing of interest. Then he unbuttons Sherlock’s waistcoat, one button at the time. Sherlock’s shirt is sticking to his skin, almost translucent, and John can’t resist mouthing at the taut nipple outlined under the fabric, even as he deftly checks the pockets of Sherlock’s waistcoat for clues. The rain-soaked shirt and Sherlock’s warm skin beneath, Sherlock’s hands carding through his hair, holding his head to Sherlock’s chest, and the encouraging noises Sherlock is making are almost enough to drive the game from John’s mind.

But only almost. Because Sherlock’s shirt smells of beeswax and dusty shelves. “Library,” he murmurs around Sherlock’s nipple, grazing the delectable nub with his teeth.

Sherlock gasps and pulls John up for a searing kiss. John grins against Sherlock’s lips.

Game over, then, he thinks. I won. “Are you getting warmer, love?”

“Shut up,” Sherlock says, dipping them back to the sofa, trapping John under himself, pressing his entire wet, warm, enticing body against John’s.

John grins. “Make me.”

Sherlock’s eyes darken. “Not a problem.”

As Sherlock moves in to kiss the very thoughts out of John’s head, John thinks, Oh, I definitely won, before he surrenders entirely to the force of nature that is Sherlock unleashed. Thank god for rain. 

------

Tags under the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[amongemeraldclouds]

How Lorenzo Berkshire looks at you when

…you ask him to smile for a photo before you head off to the Yule Ball.

You: what kind of smile is that? Enzo: *narrows his eyes* what? I was smiling! You: you look constipated. Think of something that genuinely makes you smile. Enzo: I don’t have to think, I’ll just look at you. Let’s try it again.

…he tries to befriend your cat.

Enzo: I think Mr. Whiskers is starting to like m— Enzo: Never mind. You: *laughing* don’t worry, he’ll like you in time. Enzo: Guess I’ll just have to hang around more often. For Mr. Whiskers, of course. Enzo’s thoughts: Mostly for you, but you don’t need to know that yet.

…he tries to bake cookies for you.

Enzo: Or maybe don’t eat it, love. This is terrible. You: I’m sure it’s not — *you take a bite then spit it out*. I really want to be supportive here, but that is… Enzo: Awful, it’s okay. You can be honest. I seem to have swapped the sugar with salt. You: It’s the thought that counts! Enzo: Well then in that case, I guess you’re the only sweet thing I need in my life.

You teach him how to bake and the batch you make together turns out yummy!

…he wakes you up the next day after sleeping together.

You: Ugh, it’s 7AM. It’s illegal to be so bright and cheery at this hour. Enzo: But it’s a good day! Especially after the night we had. You: One where you kept me up all night. I need five more minutes *you turn away from him*. Enzo: Didn’t see you complaining last night. I believe you said, “yess baby, more—” *you hit him with your pillow* Enzo: Ow! Don’t be like that, I’ll give you a good reason to wake up. *He kisses you tenderly, starting from your cheeks to your neck.*

One thing leads to another and you’re both late to class despite his best efforts to get up early. Do either of you regret it? Absolutely not.

…he adds melody to the poem you wrote about your relationship, turning it into a song.

You: I was going to tease you it’s cheesy, but it’s actually so lovely! Enzo: We could play it at our wedding. You: What wedding? You haven’t even proposed. Enzo: Does that mean you’ll say yes? You: Guess you’ll find out when we get there. Enzo: Well then in that case… *he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small box, moving to kneel in front of you*

✿ Masterlist | 425 words

A/N: This was so fun to do! Saw this kind of format first from @rafesslxt so credit where it’s due 💚

[pettydollie]

eclipse part two˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

♡ series playlist

♡ summary: you moved from the sizzling hot arizona to the depressive rainy washington in a small town called forks. it was terribly boring.. until you meet a gorgeous townie and fall in love. but what do you do when your childhood friend interferes with your feelings? ♡ warnings/notes: a matt sturniolo and chris sturniolo love triangle series, cursing, lowercase intended, use of "yn" ♡ wc: 3.3k

“hi lil!” you coo, bending down to pick up the kitten. she purrs softly at your touch before curling up into your embrace. you cradle her while walking into the living room where charlie’s watching sports on the couch. hearing your footsteps, he turns around with a smile. “hey kiddo, how was school?” you scratch lilith’s head, thinking of how to answer. you could lie, saying that it was great and you were already comfortable. or you could tell the truth and say, “weird. everybody here is weird. either too chatty or plain mean!” but you disregard both options, deciding to dodge the question. “why didn’t you tell chris i came?” you ask with a small smile forming. charlie shrugs, “my bad. guess i just forgot.” but there’s something else that wasn’t said. you don’t question it though; instead spinning around and walking through the kitchen with lilith resting on an open palm. 

the cold, beautiful boy abruptly popped into your head. thumping up the stairs while petting your cat, you start thinking up an apology for him. you creak open your bedroom door, shutting it behind you quietly. lilith meows as you plop down onto the floor, not wanting to lay on your bed in dirty clothes. “i don’t even know how to apologize. i mean, what am i supposed to say??” you mumble out loud, looking into your fur baby’s dark eyes. “i can’t just randomly be like, ‘oh hey. sorry that i was staring at your captivating blue eyes for five minutes like a creep-- i’m not a creep, swear it!’” you lift up lilith as you speak in a silly deep voice, giggling at yourself afterwards while she stares back at you awkwardly. 

you remember charlie has a small keyboard in the hallway, sitting collecting dust. you exhale, plopping your kitty down onto the floor while you stand up and walk out your door, her trailing close behind you. you look down at the keys, gently tracing your fingers along them. lily stands on her hind legs, her front claws pressing against your calf curiously. you grin, picking her up sweetly and resting her on the keyboard’s rack where old sheets of music lay. leaning down, you push the wire into the plug, bringing the instrument to life. you play a few notes, lily shockingly staying still to listen. you softly hum along then stop suddenly. you’d started a small song back home on your grandmother’s piano but never finished it. it almost looked like lilith sighed when you stopped. 

the following day, you’re walking to your first period with a confident mindset. you’re somewhat dreading today, but also excited to attempt to make amends with your lab partner. during lunch, you make your way to jessica and her crowd like yesterday, quickly scanning the room as you sit down. no sign of matt. you look all around the room again. his three siblings were at their table, but he wasn’t with them. so much for making amends. he wasn’t in biology either, and a small part of you hopes you're not the reason he’s absent-- that’d just make you feel ten times worse. always looking for an excuse to go shopping, you decide that to ‘cheer yourself up’, you’ll look around a nearby thrift store after school. feeling a vibration from your purse, you pull out your phone to see a series of messages from your mother.  hi baby, how has everything been? why haven’t you texted me yet? is it raining? tell me everything. hello? yn are you there? you want to roll your eyes and chuckle at her impatience. you quickly type back, keeping your phone low so you don’t get it taken away. hi mom. everything’s good ! i didn’t text you because i didn’t really know what to say lol. of course it’s raining, it’s always raining :( “yn?” you look up to see jessica and her friends staring at you with a confused look. one of them scoots closer to you and looks down at your screen. “oooh, who you texting?” she smirks, annoyingly smacking on her gum. you lock your phone quickly, putting it back inside your bag. “oh, speaking of texting, you should give me your number! we’re all heading to the beach in like two weeks, and you should totally join us.” jess explains, moving her hands around as she speaks. you bite the inside of your cheek. what would you do at the beach? it wouldn't be sunny, that’s for sure. and how far is it anyhow?? there’s definitely no beaches in forks. well, maybe that’ll mean some vitamin d. you don’t ask these questions though. you instead exchange numbers with jessica hurriedly before getting to your next class. 

when you get home, you get a whiff of the delicious smell of steak. you shut the door and make your way to the kitchen. "i didn't know you could cook!" you tease your dad, remembering how there were always sandwiches sitting on the table for dinner when you were little. lily stands on her legs against charlie's ankle like a dog. you grin at your baby before walking over to kiss your dad's cheek in greeting. he chuckles at the joke, "well, a little while before ya came, i decided to teach myself. you're big now, won't eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every few hours."

once the steak was finished, you and charlie sat down at the small round table near a big window, eating silently as rain poured outside. it's a comfortable silence, you're glad he doesn't seem to mind the quietness either. usually your mother would be chatting it up by now, forcing answers out of you about boys (not that you ever liked any of them anyway, but you pretended you did to satisfy her). charlie coughs before resting his fork and knife down. "so how'd ya like school? you make any friends?" there it goes.

you nod, "school's good. easy. i have a few classes with this girl, jessica. she's very bubbly."

he hums a "good" and goes back to eating, deciding that's enough conversation for now. hesitantly, you start up again. "do you happen to know the sturniolo family?" he looks up chewing a mouthful of food. "the doctor's family? yeah, he's a great guy. we go fishin' sometimes." you bite your lip tentatively, wanting more. you play with the food on your plate mindlessly, thinking about how to bring up matthew-- or if you even wanted to. charlie scoots his chair back noisily, standing up with his plate in one hand and his other outstretched to yours. you shake your head politely, "i'm almost finished." he nods, walking to the sink to clean the dishes.

maybe you should forget about the weird situation, focusing on making friends instead. besides, the visit to the beach is in two weeks and you have no idea what you're gonna wear! finishing up dinner, you wash your plate before heading up the stairs, lilith trailing close behind. you drop your purse onto your desk, pulling out your phone as you do so. opening jessica's contact, you send a text asking for more details about the outing. not any more than five minutes later, she sends a response. hey! i totally understand, i'd wanna know where i was going too. and plus you dont even really know us yet. well the whole trip was nate's idea. you remember him right? the boy who's friends with chris? anywayssss, he's driving everyone to la push where he lives. he says the beach there is pretty decent! so bring your bathing suit you send her a thank you before shutting your phone. sitting at the desk, you wonder when chris'll visit. maybe sometime over the weekend. you really hope he does, you remember having so much fun with him as kids. reentering your password, you scroll through your contact list to make sure you don't have his information-- you don't.

before you knew it, the entire week had passed. it was like a blur, repetitive and dull. and you hadn't seen matthew again. over the weekend, you went thrifting like you'd planned. you didn't find much except for a cozy white cashmere sweater and a tiny pack of unopened hello kitty bracelets. you bought both obviously. you also went to the local library. that was disappointing. every bookshelf was so poorly stocked, you didn't even bother to get a card. you'll have to plan a visit to seattle or olympia because you will never be going back to that library.

on monday, a lot of people greeted you unexpectedly. you didn't get embarrassing stares when you walked in the hallway with girly fur boots and earmuffs, topped off with cute little gloves. it was snowing today and everybody was enjoying it far too much. when you were walking to class with nate, he stared at the tiny flakes like they were magic. the cold wind brushed at your red cheeks harshly. you love the snow, you never had any back home. a while ago, you bought all of the clothing you're wearing now just because it was cheap and adorable! your mother said it was a waste of money since you'd never have the chance to wear them, and they'd all end up being sold in a garage sale. you make a mental note to take a picture after school and send it to her.

nate finally breaks his romantic trance to face you. he laughs lightly at your annoyed expression while the wind blows in your face. you giggle with him before pouting. "shuddup." he scans you up and down, a small grin still apparent. "cute outfit by the way. very barbie doll." he compliments with a small hint of teasing. you smile brightly. "why thank you." as you two continue to walk, you notice a group of students throwing wet snow at each other. you move away while scrunching up your nose. nate chuckles and runs off to join them.

later at lunch, you stand on line with jessica and mike who were absolutely drenched in snow. you swipe some off jessica's coat while she picks out her food. you turn to the side for a moment-- just a moment when you see something unordinary out of the corner of your eye. well, someone. matt sturniolo in the flesh. "hellooo? yn, what do you want?" jessica snaps her fingers in your face, breaking your locked stare. you look back at the lunch lady, shaking your head. "um.. actually i'm not hungry." you mutter, leaving your tray and interlocking your arm with jessica's back to the table.

her eyebrows pinch in confusion, turning back at a similar looking nate. "yn, you need to eat lunch." you ignore her, sitting down at your usual seat. you take in a breath to calm yourself. gosh, why're you so anxious? you have nothing to worry about! you didn't do anything wrong... drowning out jessica's complaints and questions, you hide your face from the table, using the person sitting in front of you as a shield. you feel a little silly though. why should you be hiding? you bite the inside of your cheek shyly before moving your head up slightly to catch a glimpse of the group.

matt and madison were laughing with wet snow dripping from their hair. you catch yourself smiling at matt’s joyful face, quickly switching back to a neutral frown when you realize. but aside from the happiness and laughter, he looks different. his skin is less chalky-- maybe flushed from the freezing snow. the dark circles under his eyes are less noticeable too. you ponder while staring like you did the first day you saw them, except this time you’re only looking at matthew.

“yn!! what are you looking at?” jessica asks, turning her head to follow the direction of your eyes. at that exact moment, matt picks up his head to make direct eye contact with you. he doesn’t look harsh or unfriendly, but curious. he stares at you like a piero piccioni song or some sort of divine poetry. you look down shamefully, heat rising to your cheeks. jessica giggles, “matt’s looking at youuu..” she pokes your shoulder. you keep your eyes on the table. “does he look angry?” you whisper, though you meant to speak louder. she raises an eyebrow at this. “no.. why would he?” 

feeling queasy, you fiddle with the pretty rings on your fingers. “i don’t think he likes me very much.” you mutter girlishly, brushing some hair in your face to block your view of him even more. she chuckles irritatingly. “you say that like a 19th-century girl. besides, i think he does, the creep won’t stop staring.” she looks back at him with a stank face, waiting for his gawking to stop. you’re not able to see, but he doesn’t bother to meet jessica’s eyes. he looks at you with some sort of admiration.. it’s odd. it irks the girl, not that she’d admit it. 

you watch jess and her friends eat, buzzing about who slept with who. you ignore the conversation as well as the fluttery butterflies in your stomach at the thought of sitting next to matt again. you hope he stays this way, approachable and gentle looking. you like him better wearing a cheesy smile than a mean snarl. when the time comes, you get to the classroom before him (surprisingly), dusting little flakes off your skirt before they melt. you readjust your earmuffs before you hear the chair next to you creak. you don’t turn to look at him, already feeling apprehensive and shy. “hi,” said a quiet, soft voice. you swallow, looking up at him with doe eyes. he has a gentle, friendly smile on his dazzling face, something you didn’t expect. “i’m matthew sturniolo, i didn’t introduce myself last week. you’re yn swan, right?” you flick your pencil between two fingers while he speaks in a musical tone. you nod meekly, smiling back kindly. 

a box filled with slides is placed in front of you two. your teacher walks down the aisle, leaving boxes on desks while explaining the lab. “the slides in your boxes are out of order. you and your partner will take turns separating the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represent and label them accordingly. any questions?” you look at the boy next to you, he doesn’t look bothered at all. maybe he’s done this before too. your teacher gave the go, and students begin to decipher the phases. matt lightly taps the pads of his fingers against the table. “ladies first.” he grins so beautifully that you don’t respond. yknow, like an idiot. you grab the first slide, snapping it into place under the microscope before adjusting it to the 40X objective. “prophase,” you state confidently, pulling away from the tool. 

matt raises an eyebrow. he points towards the microscope. “you mind if i look?” you let out an airy “nuh uh” and push it towards him. he looks in, almost immediately agreeing. he switches out the first slide for the second. “anaphase.” he murmurs, writing it down below the first slide. you reach your hand out, locking eyes with him. matt smirks knowingly, sliding it back in front of you. you can’t help but allow the corners of your lips to turn up softly, you’re a naturally smiley person. he watches you examine the slide before taking it out. you both finish the assignment before anyone else. huffing, you grow bored after a minute of being finished. you swivel your head to matt. you notice another subtle difference in his face. his eyes are a different color. “did you get contacts?” you blurt out randomly, clearly not thinking before you did. his eyebrows pinch slightly in confusion. he shakes his head dismissively. 

there’s no way he’s not lying. you vividly remember his dark black eyes glaring at you a week ago. today’s a strange gold. but who has gold eyes? is that even a thing? his hands clench into fists again and you decide not to speak about it again. gosh, what’s his deal? minutes later, your teacher declares that time is up and walks around the room to check everyone’s work. he gives you an matt an A+ of course, you'd never expect anything less. it begins to rain, the water sloshing up the magical snow. “it’s too bad about the snow.” matt talks again, his eyes watching out the water-painted window. his hands are more relaxed, yet still tense. like he’s unsure about you. he moves his glance to you, waiting for a response. you shrug awkwardly, nervousness filling up inside. 

“you don’t like the snow.” he says, but it wasn’t a question. almost as if he were saying it out loud to himself. you sigh through your nose. “i don’t mind the snow. it’s pretty. i just don’t like the wet.” you counter. he smiles, “forks must be a difficult place to live then.” you shrug again. why's he being so nice all of a sudden? 

“may i?” his hand reaches out towards you, his head slightly lowered as his eyes flicker between yours and your hand resting on the tabletop. he wants to see your hand? your lips part, placing your hand into his. the skin is cold and soft causing a small gasp to come out. “sorry.” he whispers with a small chuckle before lifting your hand in his to admire your nails. you wait for him to call the sanrio charms childish or something prude. “i like them,” he says with a sweet smile, letting go of your hand. you don’t answer for a few seconds, taking him in. it’s crazy how just a week ago, he acted as if you were the worst person he’d ever seen. “you’re strange,” you grin sheepishly, the corners of your lips turning up more when he lets out a quiet giggle. a moment passes, and he decides he’d like to keep talking to you. “why’re you here if you don’t like the rain?” 

you have a bad habit of overtalking, though that habit has died down quite a lot since you moved to forks. well it seems like it’s starting up again. “my mom got remarried anddd the new husband plays minor league basketball, so he travels around a lot.. but she missed him a bunch since she wanted to stay with me at home. so i decided to send myself here with my dad, charlie. that way she could be happy with him.” 

he watches you talk with a fascinated expression, but he’s probably just being nice. you finish your explanation with a small look of glumness afterward. damn. you said too much again, and to someone may or may not give a shit. it’s hard to tell with him. he opened his mouth to speak at the same time as the bell rang. he gets up, swings his backpack over his shoulder, and runs out the door like last week. you suck your teeth before collecting your belongings and standing up to walk to P.E with nate. unlike a lot of people here, nate’s a very chill person. he doesn’t open his mouth with every step we take and is an okay person to talk to. 

you told him all about your trouble with any sort of physical activity (to which he chuckled playfully) and luckily, he was on your team today in volleyball. he guarded you the entire time like a loyal dog and won the practice. the class had ended a few minutes ago, and you were now walking out of the locker room into the drizzle. you see your lab partner leaning against his white volvo as you head to your truck. he clenches his fists tightly before noticing you, and sending a small smile your way. 

you make sure to text jessica later that day.  is matt bipolar?

you get a buzz back almost right away. uhh no. why would you think that? no reason

♡ tags ♡

@leah-loves-lilies @imtalkinnonsense @star-sturn @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns @emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668 @chrissturnsss @joanofarcily @mattscoquette @slutsturn @imsosillygoofylol @joanofarcily @slutsturn @imsosillygoofylol @sturnioloremarker @ashley9282828 @jnkvivi @sturncakez @lanasturn @riasturns @st7rnioioss @mattsfavbigtitties @strnlxlqve @whosthislyssbitch

[certified-chrisgirl]

wisdom teeth — ౨ৎ

chris sturniolo X swiftie!fem reader

summary: the reader gets her wisdom teeth removed

warnings: fluff, mention of blood, needles, bit of crying, and cussing. i think that’s it

pairing : chris sturniolo/reader (she will be a swiftie and i am not sorry about it)

a/n: i got inspo from their wisdom teeth video

“i have never been more nervous for something in my life” i said looking out the car window. saying that i was nervous was a understatement. my knee bounces up and down slightly shaking everything around me

“ma it’s ok stop bouncing” chris says reaching over and putting his hand on my knee. “i’m sorry but you know im terrified of this shit” “yea like that big ass needle” nick says as i glare at him flipping him off. “ok that was not funny” matt said reaching over hitting him in the arm. “im kidding im sorry y/n i swear you’ll be all good”

chris rolls his eyes at his brother returning his attention back to me rubbing my knee as comfort “you’re going to be ok baby i promise i’ll be right there with you the whole time”. i nod my head slowly playing with my fingers.

about twenty minutes later we pull into a parking space right outside of the dentist office. “are you ready?” matt says turning the car off look at me in the rear view mirror. “as ready as i’ll ever be i guess” “you will be just fine ma i promise” he says grabbing my chin and planting a small kiss on my lips.

we all get out of the car and walk towards the elevator. chris grabs my hand squeezing it tight and gently rubbing circles on the back of it. “what floor is it again” nick asks turing to the rest of the group

“10 i think” chris says in response as nick presses the 10th floor. the door opens and we’re met with the front desk.

“ok how you feeling y/n?” matt says as he points the camera towards me. “um nervous like really nervous” i say as i sit down in the dentist chair letting a nervous laugh fall from my lips.

“we’re gonna be right here the whole time kid” nick says walking up next to me. “ok miss y/l/n we’re just going to put this blood pressure cuff and heart monitor on you ok” dr. gabe says holing up the blood pressure cuff and the monitor that goes on my finger

i nod my head and turn my attention back to the three boys. “ugh God i hate that thing that goes on your finger” nick groans “trust me nicolas we know” i say laughing at his complaints

“oh she gave you the full name” chris laughs turning his head towards nick. “ok now we’re just going to prep your arm for the IV. the IV will be what we put the anesthesia through. you’ll fall into a deep sleep not long after we insert the IV” dr gabe says as my eyes widen.

my head snaps towards chris as my eyes start to fill with tears. he kneels down beside me grabbing my hand and wiping my tears with the other “it’s ok baby how about after we will go get ice cream and we can listen to taylor swift on the way home how does that sound” chris says and he uses his hand to block my the needle from my vision

i nod my head slowly trying to stay focused on the blue eyes in front of me. “what’s the first song you wanna listen to” he ask trying to distract me from the fact the doctor is about to insert the IV.

“um i don’t know maybe the last great american dynasty” i say voice still extremely shaky. “yeah that’s your favorite isn’t it?” he says as i nod quickly “ok the IV is in”

“wait what” i say as my head snaps towards my arm. “see you didn’t even feel it” matt says reassuring me. “would one of you guys like to give her a word to remember”

“um how about… willow” chris says look into your eyes as your eyes light up at once again another taylor reference. “i see what you’re doing” i says smiling up at him causing him to chuckle

within 5 minutes my eyes had become droopy and my vision starts to go dark. “hey y/n what’s the word” nick says earning no response as i had fallen into a deep sleep

i slowly start to wake up as noise fills my ears and the light hits my eyes. i look around and see the triplets along with a few doctors. “how you feeling baby” chris says kneeling next to me once again. “is it done? did they take my teeth” i say my voice messed up from the gauze

“yea ma they’re all gone.” “can i go home now” i say as i lean my head against the head rest of the chair. “not yet they have to check and make sure you’re memory is all good” matt says as he records your reactions

“bitch my memory is just fine im not a old lady” i say throwing my hand up. “do you remember what the word was” chris says laughing at the words coming out of your mouth.

“what are you fucking talking about?! what goddamn word” i say look at him like he’s insane. “before you went to sleep we gave you a word. do you remember it” nick says trying to contain his laughter.

“does it look like i fucking remember” i says rolling my eyes. “ok baby let’s stop cussing. we have to be respectful in dr gabe’s office” chris says tucking my hair behind my ear. “oh fuck off tell me the word” i say look at him.

“the word was willow ma” he says as i gasp and my eyes widen “the more that you say the less I know wherever you stray I follow” i attempt to sing but ultimately fail. “oh so you remember the lyrics but not the title” nick laughs

“shut the fuck up” i say flipping him off. “ok put that down” chris says laughing but trying to pull my hand down. “no” i say pulling my hand back up. “ok ok we’re gonna give you another word. how about treehouse” matt says pointing the camera at me as i nod

“oh my god my tongue fell out. the cut my tongue off” i say as one of the gauze falls out of my mouth. tears start to stream down my face as the boys laugh at my screaming

“this is not funny i have no tongue. what the fuck” i say as sobs leave my mouth. “no baby no it’s just the gauze” chris says rubbing my shoulder. “oh” i say looking down at my lap

“y/n put it back in your mouth” nick says laughing and rolling his eyes. “you bitch i am not about to touch that you fucking do it” i say cussing at him. “i love you but i am not about to touch your bloody gauze”

“then what the fuck do i do” i say tears filling my eyes once again. “ask your boyfriend” nick says as a let a gasp out. “i have a boyfriend” i say looking around. “yea ma im your boyfriend remember” chris says chuckling and wiping my tears

“OMG REALLY? you’re so pretty tho. how. hold me” i say wrapping my arms around him. “how did i get you?! God who did i have to fight to win you” i say holding him tight like if i let go he will disappear.

“baby i had to win you” he says kissing my temple. “baby?!?! i want a baby” i say as my eyes widen. “no” chris quickly refuses. “but please i really want one.” “one day baby but not right now” “ugh you don’t love me”

“ok y/n what’s the word?” matt says pushing chris over so im in frame. “what? oh um… it was tree?” i say looking up at them “close it was treehouse ok one more… the new word is lake” chris looks over at me as i nod

“hey hey hey” i say getting chris’ attention. “yea ma?” “i love you” leaves my mouth as i smile up at him. “i love you too” he says as he laughs kissing my nose. “im cold but i hate this goddamn hoodie” i say as i start trying to pull my hoodie off

“but ma you love hoodies” “no i love your hoodies bc they smell like you not this annoying ass shit i own” i say pouting. chris unzips his zip up pulling it off his shoulder and draping it over mine.

“baby thank you!!!!” i say holding it close to me. “ how you doing y/n?” dr. gabe says as he walks in the room. “fine i mean you definitely didn’t just pull my teeth out” the words fall from my mouth sarcastically. he chuckles grabbing the little goodie bag for me to take home

“look y/n you get a goodie bag” matt gasp causing my head to turn towards the doctor. “ok so in here we have a toothbrush, and we have these water flossers that you can use if anything gets sucked back there” he says handing me the bag

“thank you” i says looking inside the bag “how’s her memory” he ask the boys “y/n do you remember the word matt gave you a few minutes ago?” nick says and i look at him. “it was uh… OH it was lake” i say smiling up at them. “yess baby you remembered” chris says squeezing my hand

“see i remember because of taylor. take me to the lakes where are the poets went to die i don’t belong AND MY BELOVED NEITHER DO YOU. omg that song is so good. can we listen to folklore in the car” i say looking at chris like i would cry if he said no

“of course baby” “omg yay” i say smiling and hugging my boyfriend. “since her memory is good she’s free to go home let me go get you guys a wheelchair” dr gabe says turning to walk out the door

“i don’t need a wheel chair i can walk just fine” i say crossing my arms and pouting like a little kid. “it’s just to be safe y/n” nick says chucking at my state.

“ok here we go i’ll wheel her out if that’s ok so you guys don’t have to make a second trip to bring the chair back” he says smiling as chris helps you up and sits you down in the chair

“come on baby grab my hand let me help you get in the car” chris says holding his hand out. “no no i can do it” i say shooing him with my hand and attempt to push myself up but failing.

“ok fine” i say as a grab his hand. he pulls me up and guide me into the car. he goes to close the door but i stop him. “where are you going?” i say as tears start to pour down my face.

“baby it’s ok im just going around to get in” he says wiping my face as i nod. he walks around the car and climbs into the seat next to me. i gasp and throw my arms around him. “baby!!” “hi ma” he laughs at me “i need some air” i groan as i sit back up and roll the window down.

“guys i’ll be back ima go pay for parking matt says closing the door. “wait wait” i say holding my arm out the window. “i love you” i say pointing up at him. “i love you too kid” he says patting my shoulder and walking away

“i love you too nicolas” i say as he turns around and glares at me for giving him the full name. “and i definitely love you” i say leaning against chris’ shoulder. “i love you too baby” he says rubbing the side of my face

“ok im back let’s get going” matt says getting in the car. “turn on taylor swift” i say pointing towards the radio. “here chris” nick says handing the aux cord to your boyfriend.

chris plugs it into his phone and pulls up spotify. the last great american dynasty starts to play through the speakers as i let out a gasp. “rebekah rode up on the afternoon train, it was sunny. her salt box house on the coast took her mind off st. louis” i sing along and dance in my seat causing chris to laugh

“i love this song so much” i say as i start to cry once again. “i know baby i know” chris chuckles pulling me into his side.

“what song next baby?” chris says as the sing comes to an end. “do mad woman” i say as he nods changing the song

“what did you think i’d say to that there’s a scorpion sting when fighting back” i sing playing with chris’s fingers.

a few hours later i had completely come down from all the medicine leaving me extremely exhausted. “y/n we have a surprise for you” matt says running into the room. “you got to keep all your teeth!!” nick says handing you a container in the shape of a tooth

“OMG YAY i get to put them under my pillow for the tooth fairy” i say grabbing the container and jumping up and down. “ok guys that’s it for this Wednesday video i hope you guys enjoyed watching y/n quote taylor swift” chris says turning the camper to point at nick,matt and i. matt quickly grabs the camera screaming and giving it a kiss causing everyone to laugh as the camera gets turned off

A/n: ME ACTUALLY POSTING?!?! anyways guys i hope you enjoy this is like my first real image so pls be nice😭 request are open as always and i’ll actually do them🤍

[lemotmo]

You know I’ve tried so hard to stay neutral on the whole Lou/Tommy of it all. But he did another cameo, which he apparently upped the prices the 145 a video?? But he did another one and he dismissed all of Tommy’s past behavior as being corny and teasing which…does not sit right with me. Like racism, misogyny, toxicity, silent compliance of it all….is not just being corny and teasing. And then he ends the video by talking about Tommy came in at the last minute to save the day and save Bobby and Athena so everyone should be good with him now….. like now we’re taking credit for Hens stuff too?

Idk none of that sat well with me at all and if he is sticking around for any of season 8 I think I need the show to just be like no more cameos from you or something.

Hi Nonny, hope the rest of your day was great. Don't allow things like this to get to you too much. If you feel you need a break from social media, make sure to take it. There is already enough stress in real life, don't let it seep into your fandom life as well. Take care of yourself first. You deserve only the best.

Now on to your ask:

I haven’t seen the cameo you are talking about. I have no desire to see that cameo either. I’ve watched one of Lou’s cameos, way back in the beginning when he started doing them. I found it funny, if a little weird that someone would pay for that, but to each their own.

I’ve been hearing about these cameos more and more lately. And yes, they have started to bother me. Mostly because it seems that Lou is charging these people up to 125 dollar (I’ve even read 145 dollars) to talk about the things ‘he’ thinks or believes to be true about Tommy or Buck/Tommy. Basically he’s talking about his own headcanons as an actor. Which again, is fine, because if it helps him to act better, why not?

The problem lies in the fact that some people have started taking Lou’s headcanons for reality. They hear what he says and see it as ‘canon’ because (right now) Buck/Tommy is a canon couple. While it is true that Buck/Tommy is canon, Lou’s headcanons are just that, little fanfictions he made up in his head. It’s a dangerous road to go down, because where does it end? When Buck/Tommy eventually break up, a lot of people will feel misled by him. It won’t be pretty.

So therefore, I’ve decided to never watch any of his cameos. I’m not really interested in his fantasies for the guest character he plays on my favourite show. I’d much rather be focusing on what 911 is actually showing us on our screens. I focus on the nuances and little details that they want us to pick up on.

Sometimes there are small things that seem inconsequential, but turn out to be very important episodes later. Everything matters on television. There are no coincidences. The writers craft the story, every single thing is planned out for the scene, the actors act it out and we watch on in complete fascination. There is no room for a guest actor’s headcanons or fantasies in a prime time show like this.

That being said though, if he truly dismissed Chimney and Hen’s plight under Captain Gerrard as mere ‘teasing’, that is factually wrong. If you go back to watch the scenes in question, there is bigotry, blatant racism and sexism. It makes me wonder if he even remembers the scenes in question. Did he rewatch them before he came back for season 7? We’ll never know.

But it does highlight, once again, that it isn’t smart to give this guy a platform to talk about his personal headcanons. He was always bound to say something dumb that would piss people off at some point. And here we are today, pissed off and annoyed.

I also want to remind everyone that it wasn’t Tommy who is the real ‘hero’ in the story of saving Bathena on the cruise ship. It was Hen Wilson, who had a bad feeling in her gut and decided to follow that feeling. She got the ball rolling, then Chimney jumped to her aide, because he always will. Buck and Eddie decided to join in, without hesitation, because again—they always will. Tommy was merely the helicopter pilot who flew them all in.

By that definition they are all the heroes in this narrative, which is why they all get medals next episode. But it is only Hen who was smart enough to follow her gut. If all the others are ‘heroes’? Hen Wilson is the only ‘big damn hero’.

I do believe Tommy might be sticking around for the beginning of season 8, because I’m not sure there will be enough time to deal with a proper break up in two episodes. Unless Tim surprises me and actually does manage to pull it off.

But yes, someone should just tell him to stop doing those cameos if his character is to carry over to season 8. It’s starting to get a little worrisome at this point. Charging people to talk about your own fantasies for your character, feels a little exploitative.

Whatever happens with him in season 8, ultimately I’m not really worried about Tommy to be honest. Lou’s stint on 911 is coming to an end pretty soon, one way or the other.

Consider this topic closed for me now. I’ve said all I wanted and needed to say. I don’t feel like wasting any more of my time thinking about or writing about this man and his cameos. I’d rather spend my precious fandom time on the things that matter: the amazing people I’ve met, watching the show and crying copious amounts of tears over these characters I’ve come to love so much, theorising and speculating about what might happen in the next episodes and next season, and above all talking about Buddie—my favourite pastime. 😊

[midwestmade29]

Communication 🩷

To Anonymous: This was my first ever request for Darby! I hope I did him justice and that you enjoy the story 🖤 Word count: 991 Divider by: Me 🙂 *GIF is not mine Original Anonymous Request: Can I have Darby Allin x Fem reader where they have feelings for each other and share them after Nick locks them in a supply closet?

Disclaimers: Mild cursing.

With the help of Nick Wayne, you and Darby finally confess your feelings to each other...

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell her man,” Nick teased. “You can’t hide your feelings for her forever. No amount of face paint can cover up the stupid grin you get whenever she’s around,” “Whenever who’s around?” you asked curiously as you walked up on the conversation. Nick got quiet but Darby answered you, “No one. Nick was just talking out of his ass. I think he’s still reeling from getting speared by Copeland earlier,” When you chuckled at his joke, the expression on his face softened and he appeared more relaxed. It was as if your laughter had soothed him. Nick on the other hand was less than amused. “Whatever dude, I’m outta here,” he said as he brushed by Darby, leaving both of you alone together. Silence fell between the two of you the longer you stood there.

You always felt like there were butterflies in your stomach whenever Darby was around. Your feelings for him were ever growing, yet your nerves made it difficult for you to tell him. The way he would light up whenever you entered a room made it seem like he might feel the same way, only he hasn’t said anything before either. You always remained hopeful though.

“So, how are things?” you asked a little timidly. Darby rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, smiling at your attempt at small talk. “Things are good. Still alive and above ground, so that’s a plus,” You recalled the last time you and Darby talked when he told you all about his latest stunt and how he nearly broke every bone in his body. His fearlessness was something you envied, even though his antics often made you worry about him and his safety. Before your brain had time to filter your thoughts, you blabbed, “Well I’m certainly glad you’re still around,” It instantly felt like your cheeks were on fire! Why was it so hard to act normal around him? “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. With everything else in my life I’m not afraid to take a risk, but when it comes to you, I seem to lose my nerve. What I’m trying to say is that I-” Darby rambled before getting interrupted by Nick running down the hallway.

“Guys! Hey! Tony wants to talk to you, right now! He sent me to come get you,” Nick said in a hurry. When you and Darby didn’t budge, he urged you to follow him. “Seriously guys it seemed important. I’ll show you where his office is! Let’s go,” With a shrug of his shoulders, Darby decided to bite on Nick’s hook. You followed suit, trying to keep up with Nick’s long strides. As you rounded the corner, the three of you stopped in front of a door that had a makeshift sign taped to it that signified it was in fact Tony Kahn’s office. “You guys go ahead and go in, I’ll be waiting here for you when you’re all done,” You walked in first, Darby right behind you as you flipped on the light switch. “What the-” you started to say when you realized you weren’t in an office, but a dirty supply closet! Darby hadn’t cleared the threshold yet, so Nick gave him a not so gentle push, making him crash right into you. “What the hell Nick!!” he shouted as he helped you steady yourself. “Are you okay Y/N?”

The door started closing, your finger instantly pointing in that direction causing Darby’s eyes to follow. “Shit!” he gasped and lunged for the knob, but he was too late.

The door was now latched and another clicking noise grabbed your attention, “Did you seriously just lock us in here?!” the annoyance in your voice at the forefront of your question. “It’s for your own good! You guys have some talking to do,” Nick said triumphantly from the other side of the door. You suddenly felt nervous, but Darby appeared to be calm as he leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed. “He’s not wrong,” Darby’s remark caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” “Look Y/N, I gotta be real with you. Climbing Mt. Everest doesn’t scare me, jumping 96 feet over my house in a jeep doesn’t scare me, shit even crashing through panes of real glass doesn’t scare me,” You weren’t sure where he was going with this, but you didn’t dare interrupt him. “What does scare me is the way that I feel about you. I like you, Y/N. A lot. I have for the longest time, and now seems like as good of a time as ever to finally tell you considering we’re at the mercy of The Prodigy right now. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted you to know,”

You tried to remain cool even though internally you were screaming with joy at Darby’s confession! The huge grin on your face gave yourself away, making the handsome “Invisible Man’s” smile blossom right before your eyes. “Um, well it’s funny that you said that because I have feelings for you too. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I miss you when you’re gone. We’re crazy for not telling each other sooner, you know that right?” “Do you know what’s crazier? It took us getting locked in a storage closet for us to air out our feelings,” Darby chuckled. “We might owe Nick a solid now,” From the other side of the door Nick called out, “Damn right you do!” before unlocking it and setting you two love birds free.

You and Darby continued your conversation in a less cramped location, deciding to give a relationship a try. You both agreed to try and communicate better with one another, making sure to bring things up and discuss them without needing to be locked in a supply closet again.

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 19th May ✨

I have had my heart ripped out through my ears this week by certain shows *cough* Small Victories *cough* but here’s everything I listened to! 

👻 @tellnotalespod (S2E10) these ghosties may be incorporeal but the chemistry between them sure isn’t!! I loved hearing Leo find a role that they feel fits them but found myself burying my head in my hands again as they continue to be manipulated by Frank. I love that it’s been written so that there’s definitely something suspicious going on but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is exactly. It’s so much more like real life than if Frank was just obviously rotten and if (when) he reveals himself to be a rat bastard, I hope it helps people examine their own relationships with people who might be manipulating them! 

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (152) Clem 😭 I hate that even as a listener I compare her to Riot but her sense of humour in the face of being pretty much ripped to shreds is SO much like Riot 😩 

And, oh. Oh, Raj. Maybe he hasn’t made a covenant with Syrensyr …. maybe the real eldritch power was grief all along. This killed me. 

I’m hoping at some point (either in the canon or as a bonus) we get to hear the Nikignik/Marolmar conversation in its entirety from start to finish. I love getting snippets but I also want to hear it in full!! 

🧳 Travelling Light @monstrousproductions (22) ooooh I do love a spooky tale and would happily listen to an entire series set in the world of this story! 

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum (TRANQUIL) What a lovely ending to an astounding show. It’s so comforting to know that, at the end of everything, there will still be stories 🥺💙

🖥️ The Magnus Protocol (16) Poor Alice ☹️ I really enjoyed the multimedia additions in this episode, it made it so much more entertaining to listen to!! 

🍎 @notquitedeadpod (XXXVIII) Oh lord. Maybe Casper isn’t the angel we assumed him to be 😩 I literally didn’t trust Neige at all when he was first introduced but, god, I am so soft for him now. If it turns out that he’s the one manipulating Alfie I’m going to lose it. What on earth are they going to do with Casper now?? 

🌞 Small Victories by @wgc-productions (2.05-2.07) oh my GOD!! Marisol!!! I can’t even believe what has happened in my ears. CHRIST. I think what hurts the most is that it actually took zero effort for her to find the oxy in the end - she was REALLY stopping herself 😭 she could have taken it at any time and didn’t. Sometimes it’s hard to believe this show has been written and acted, the writing and performances are so spot on that it feels like real life!

^ So I wrote this and then finished off the rest of the season and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! Shit, man. I completely didn’t even realise who ‘The Host’ was until she apologised to him at the start of the last episode 😭 don’t do this to me, I’m too fragile 😭 ugh, it’s all just too much. I need season three right now. 

Please, everyone go listen to Small Victories!! And if you're having a generous audio drama Sunday, Stories from Ylemore by @itmeblog is crowdfunding and you should support them!!

[galariangengar]

Ok, I cleaned my room a little (still a bit messy and need to dust but it’s better than before), I ordered and received official transcripts I needed from 2 community colleges, and I officially submitted my application for a part time job at HomeGoods 👍🏼

[milo-is-rambling]

I can’t even imagine living without anxiety. Like. How. What?

[robyn-goodfellowe]

everything has been so fast lately i need time to just stop for a little

[lyricsofgoldendaisy]

OKAY, ITS OFFICIAL- SHART THE SHARK IS NOW AVAILABLE ON MY REDBUBBLE SHOP @eddiemunsonscurl @chaoticmunson @muns-trosity-main @eddiemunsons-girl @myobmaya this is what happens when people encourage me-

(I named him Mandolin Shark though cuz I didn’t think actually naming him Shart the Shark on my Redbubble was a good idea 😅 idk about guidelines and shit so him being Shart the Shark could be like- our own thing, ya know? Apologies about that-)

ANYWAY- here he is in all his glory!✨ he’s available both with and without the SEA-nic background *ba dum tss* (am I funny yet-)

Alright, it’s 2 in the morning for me now, I’m going to bed- he’s available as a bunch of different products, including a shit ton of shirt options, hats (INCLUDING BUCKET HATS CUZ APPARENTLY REDBUBBLE DOES THAT NOW-), phone cases and etc

I hope Shart the Shark is a nice lil deviation from the RWBY items I put up 😁

[boygirlctommy]

good news I thought it over and my ocs are now MORE FUCKED UP

[lumsel]

chinese room 2

So there’s this guy, right? He sits in a room by himself, with a computer and a keyboard full of Chinese characters. He doesn’t know Chinese, though, in fact he doesn’t even realise that Chinese is a language. He just thinks it’s a bunch of odd symbols. Anyway, the computer prints out a paragraph of Chinese, and he thinks, whoa, cool shapes. And then a message is displayed on the computer monitor: which character comes next?

This guy has no idea how the hell he’s meant to know that, so he just presses a random character on the keyboard. And then the computer goes BZZZT, wrong! The correct character was THIS one, and it flashes a character on the screen. And the guy thinks, augh, dammit! I hope I get it right next time. And sure enough, computer prints out another paragraph of Chinese, and then it asks the guy, what comes next?

He guesses again, and he gets it wrong again, and he goes augh again, and this carries on for a while. But eventually, he presses the button and it goes DING! You got it right this time! And he is so happy, you have no idea. This is the best day of his life. He is going to do everything in his power to make that machine go DING again. So he starts paying attention. He looks at the paragraph of Chinese printed out by the machine, and cross-compares it against all the other paragraphs he’s gotten. And, recall, this guy doesn’t even know that this is a language, it’s just a sequence of weird symbols to him. But it’s a sequence that forms patterns. He notices that if a particular symbol is displayed, then the next symbol is more likely to be this one. He notices some symbols are more common in general. Bit by bit, he starts to draw statistical inferences about the symbols, he analyses the printouts every way he can, he writes extensive notes to himself on how to recognise the patterns.

Over time, his guesses begin to get more and more accurate. He hears those lovely DING sounds that indicate his prediction was correct more and more often, and he manages to use that to condition his instincts better and better, picking up on cues consciously and subconsciously to get better and better at pressing the right button on the keyboard. Eventually, his accuracy is like 70% or something -- pretty damn good for a guy who doesn’t even know Chinese is a language.

* * *

One day, something odd happens.

He gets a printout, the machine asks what character comes next, and he presses a button on the keyboard and-- silence. No sound at all. Instead, the machine prints out the exact same sequence again, but with one small change. The character he input on the keyboard has been added to the end of the sequence.

Which character comes next?

This weirds the guy out, but he thinks, well. This is clearly a test of my prediction abilities. So I’m not going to treat this printout any differently to any other printout made by the machine -- shit, I’ll pretend that last printout I got? Never even happened. I’m just going to keep acting like this is a normal day on the job, and I’m going to predict the next symbol in this sequence as if it was one of the thousands of printouts I’ve seen before. And that’s what he does! He presses what symbol comes next, and then another printout comes out with that symbol added to the end, and then he presses what he thinks will be the next symbol in that sequence. And then, eventually, he thinks, “hm. I don’t think there’s any symbol after this one. I think this is the end of the sequence.” And so he presses the “END” button on his keyboard, and sits back, satisfied.

Unbeknownst to him, the sequence of characters he input wasn’t just some meaningless string of symbols. See, the printouts he was getting, they were all always grammatically correct Chinese. And that first printout he’d gotten that day in particular? It was a question: “How do I open a door.” The string of characters he had just input, what he had determined to be the most likely string of symbols to come next, formed a comprehensible response that read, “You turn the handle and push”.

* * *

One day you decide to visit this guy’s office. You’ve heard he’s learning Chinese, and for whatever reason you decide to test his progress. So you ask him, “Hey, which character means dog?”

He looks at you like you’ve got two heads. You may as well have asked him which of his shoes means “dog”, or which of the hairs on the back of his arm. There’s no connection in his mind at all between language and his little symbol prediction game, indeed, he thinks of it as an advanced form of mathematics rather than anything to do with linguistics. He hadn’t even conceived of the idea that what he was doing could be considered a kind of communication any more than algebra is. He says to you, “Buddy, they’re just funny symbols. No need to get all philosophical about it.”

Suddenly, another printout comes out of the machine. He stares at it, puzzles over it, but you can tell he doesn’t know what it says. You do, though. You’re fluent in the language. You can see that it says the words, “Do you actually speak Chinese, or are you just a guy in a room doing statistics and shit?”

The guy leans over to you, and says confidently, “I know it looks like a jumble of completely random characters. But it’s actually a very sophisticated mathematical sequence,” and then he presses a button on the keyboard. And another, and another, and another, and slowly but surely he composes a sequence of characters that, unbeknownst to him, reads “Yes, I know Chinese fluently! If I didn’t I would not be able to speak with you.”

That is how ChatGPT works.