#i do not control the speed at which i gain writing ideas

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer science fiction, part 2

There is a lot of queer sf out there, and I read a lot of sf. When I started working on this list, I quickly realized it was impossible to include all that I’ve read and enjoyed in one single rec post. Thus, this is my second queer sci-fi book rec post. For queer sci-fi part 1, click here!

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean “guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending”, but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don’t always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of “gay best friend”, word of god, and a blink and you’ll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone

Vivian Liao is a highly successful innovator, but she may have bitten off more than she can chew and fears the government may be coming for her. As she goes into hiding, she attempts to pull off one last stunt that could fix everything - but something goes wrong, and suddenly Vivian finds herself waking up in the far future, under attack by an army of robots in space. Hoping to find her way back home, Vivian must assemble a crew of dangerous outlaws to help her hunt down the Empress of Forever, the all-powerful entity who pulled her into the future. Lesbian main character.

The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older

Novella. On the outpost of a human colony by Jupiter, a man has gone missing. On the case to find him - and figure out why he disappeared in the first place - is enigmatic investigator Mossa. Her search leads her to the colony's university, and with it, her ex-girlfriend Pleiti, expert on Earth's pre-collapse ecosystem. Together they come to realize that the case is much larger than just a missing man, and could decide the outcome of humanity's very future. Sapphic.

My Heart is Human by Reese Hogan

Nine years ago, all complex technology was made illegal. This complicates life for Joel, young transgender single father, as a bionic just uploaded itself into his brain without consent. Scared of losing his daughter, Joel tries to keep the bionic secret while using it to fix his life, but things quickly get more complicated as the bionic gains more and more control of his body. A bit simplistic in writing style but makes a lot of cool parallels of bodily autonomy to Joel’s experiences as a transman. M/M romance.

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez*

A strange child lands on an isolated planet, scaring its inhabitants into handing him over into the hands of Nia Amani. As captain of a transport ship, Nia is not only the planet's only contact with the outside world, she is also a woman out of time, years compressing into months as she travels through space at high speeds. Now responsible for a child who doesn't speak and in a galaxy that wishes them ill, she must rethink exactly what she wants to do with her life, and what she's prepared to give up. Features multiple major queer characters.

The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us duology) by Emily Skrutskie

Young Adult. Tumblr classic back in the day! Cassandra Leung's family are keepers of sea monsters, genetically engineered and trained to protect ships from pirates. On her first solo mission, Cas finds herself kidnapped by pirates seeking to obtain their own monster. Now they need her help to train it. As Cas seeks to regain her freedom, she must also reckon with unfortunate growing feelings for one of the pirates keeping her under guard. Sapphic.

Ancestral Night (White space series) by Elizabeth Bear

Haimey Dz is part of a three-man salvage crew in space (one of the crew being the sentient spaceship himself). When the small crew comes across a derelict ship that proves the scene of a horrible crime, they must go on the run as they seek to uncover a conspiracy that involves both ancient secrets older than humanity itself, and Haimey's own hidden past. On their tail is a dangerous space pirate, convinced that Haimey is the key to it all. Lesbian main character.

Ancillary Justice (Imperial Radch) by Ann Leckie*

A space opera in which sentient spaceships can walk the ground in stolen human bodies, so called ancillaries. One of these ancillaries, the sole survivor after the complete destruction of her ship and crew, is one the hunt for revenge against the most powerful woman in the empire. This series does very cool things with gender!

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin

Five New Yorkers find themselves experiencing strangness as the city itself begins to wake up. They are its soul, its avatars and its protectors, and now they must keep it safe as it wakes as something alien and monstrous attempts to kill it before it's even fully alive. Mix of sci-fi, supernatural, and lovecraftian horror. Multiple pov characters of varying queer identities.

Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb series) by Tamsyn Muir*

Gideon, raised as a swordswoman by unfriendly nuns, would rather run away and make her own life, but her services are needed. The Reverend Daughter, Gideon's childhood nemesis, has been invited to a trial to win a place as an immortal by the Emperor's side, and she's in need of a bodyguard. Listen, if you’re on tumblr I probably don’t need to explain this book to you. Trust me when I say it’s exactly as good as people claim. Humorous and spooky but also absolutely gut wrenching and clever with a lot of political commentary. There are also, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

A Big Ship at the Edge of the Universe (Salvagers trilogy) by Alechia Dow

In a universe run on science and magic working hand in hand, Boots Elsworth makes a living selling fake treasure maps and Nilah Brio is a racer. When one of Boots' maps turns out to be more real than expected and Nilah has to go on the run after having been framed for a murder, the two find themselves on the same spaceship, working with Boots' old captain to find the rumored treasure and reveal the conspiracy its hiding before the people hunting them catch up. Features a main f/f relationship.

The Company of Death by Elisa Hansen*

A wild mix of genres, where a zombie apocalypse has struck and vampires gather up humans to keep their food source from going extinct, a robot travels across America with a young man she’s tasked to keep safe, and former-vampire-hunter-recent-zombie Emily teams up with Death himself to stop the apocalypse. Features bi and ace characters! Bonus rec: the author also runs the youtube channel Maven of the Eventide, where she talks about various vampire media. Check it out!

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

Shizuka Satomi is a violin master who made a deal with a devil, and who must now save her soul by delivering the souls of her students in place of her own. Lan Tran is a mother and a refugee of an alien war, hiding on Earth with her children in a donut shop. Katrina Nguyen is a trangender runaway and violin player, in the need of a mentor. As their paths cross, their lives change forever. I would categorize this as cozy, however it does also deal with some pretty heavy themes.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die. While the main relationship is m/f, it features a worldbuilding where bisexuality is the norm, which is portrayed in its major characters.

The Gilded Abyss by Rebecca Thorne

Nix Marr is a soldier and damned good at it, but that doesn't prepare her for her next mission: bodyguard for Subarch Kessandra, beloved royal and Nix's bitter ex, as she ventures into the underwater city of Fall to seek the cause of a bloody murder spree and a possible deadly contagion. But Kessandra has enemies, the answers she seeks marking her as a possible threat for the nation's rulers. On their way in an isolated and enclosed underwater ship toward Fall, the contagion catches up, and Nix will have to put her hurt feelings aside if the two are to arrive alive. Sci-fi with flavors of horror and the supernatural.

Adaptation (Adaptation duology) by Malinda Lo

Young adult. Strangeness is afoot: all over America, birds are hurling themselves against airplanes and causing crashes. As flights are canceled and travelers stranded, Reese and her debate partner and longtime crush David are forced to head home by car. Accident strikes, and the two wake in a military hospital with no memory of the last month. Returning home, strangeness follows the two, especially as Reese encounters the mysterious and beautiful Amber Gray, who may know more than she lets on. Features a bisexual love triangle.

Lizard Radio by Pat Schmatz

Young adult. Fifteen-year-old Kivali, abandoned at birth and adopted by the nonconformist artist Sheila, has as a girl in boys clothes never fit in with the other kids. Sheila has always been supportive, until she one day sends Kivali off to CropCamp. While Kivali chafes at the strict rules of the camp, she also finds herself making friends, and maybe more, for the first time. Strange coming of age story, featuring exploration of gender and sexuality in a dystopian setting.

Isle of Broken Years by Jane Fletcher

Young spanish noblewoman Catalina thinks she’s done for when the ship she’s traveling on is attacked by pirates and she’s captured. Things gets worse when the entire crew is stranded on an inhospitable island where time works strangely, dangerous monsters terrorize the woods and something alien stops them from leaving. Strong Lost vibes. Lesbian romance. Admittedly quite indulgent but very fun and creative.

All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries) by Marta Wells*

After having hacked its own governor module, SecUnit uses its small amount of new freedom to secretly download and watch as much media as it can between doing its job guarding humans. But when the scientists it’s been charged with keeping safe come under attack, it must make a choice about whether to continue keeping its freedom secret or risk it all to save them. The series features both novellas and full length novels, and balances humor with scathing critique of capitalism. While it can be debated whether SecUnit counts as agender, asexual and aromantic, as it is a robot (I leave this up to individual judgmenet), however the series also has a diverse cast overall.

The Quiet at the End of the World by Lauren James*

Young adult. After the spread of a global virus causing infertility, teenagers Lowrie and Shen are now the youngest humans alive as the adults around them race to find a cure. As they investigate the ruins of the world, the two come across records from the past, of how grief stricken people turned to raising artificial children in apps and how these 'children’ developed, and through these records the two learn of their history. Bisexual main character.

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara “Hurricane Staxxx” Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future. Sapphic.

The Disasters by M.K. England

A decade ago, the massive ship House of Wisdom was abandoned in orbit after its entire crew was killed in an outbreak in a matter of hours. Now, Zahra and her people hope to claim the ship as their own by kidnapping the sole survivor to gain access to its systems. But the danger of the House of Wisdom is far from gone. Horror, no major romance but has a major gay character.

Nax Hall may be a hotshot pilot, but that doesn't stop him from being expelled from the prestigious Ellis Station Academy in less than 24 hours. But as he's to be transported back to Earth alongside other failed students, the school is viciously attacked. Nax and the three other students only barely escape, and are left as the only witnesses - and the perfect scapegoats. Now they must go on the run together and find a way to clear their names. Bisexual main character.

Dust (Jacob's Ladder series) by Elizabeth Bear

In a dying spaceship, orbiting an equally dying sun, noblewoman Perceval waits for her own gruesome death. Having been captured by an opposing house, her wings severed and life forfeit, Perceval’s execution is imminent - until a young servant charged with her care proves to be Perceval’s long lost sister. To stop a war between houses likely to doom them all, the two flee together across a crumbling, dangerous spaceship. At its core waits Jacob Dust, god and angel, all that remains of what the ship once was. And he wants Perceval. Sapphic and asexual characters, however be prepared for kinda fucked up relationships.

Under Fortunate Stars by Ren Hutchings

Two ships have gotten stuck in a rift in space, isolated outside of time. One of them is the Jonah, a ship dodging a generations long war against an alien species, carrying a small crew of smugglers, an unintended passenger, and a hijacker. The other ship is the Gallion, which arrived from 150 years in the future carrying an alien ambassador - and whose crew is awestruck at meeting the heroes of the Jonah, known to have ended the war. As the two crews struggle to understand each other's timelines, they must also work together to leave the rift before they're stranded forever. Multiple queer characters, however the main romance plotlines are m/f.

One Last Stop by Casey McQiston*

Twenty-three-year-old August has a lot to deal with. She just moved to New York, got new job at a pancake diner, and acquired several slightly chaotic roommates. So what if she likes to flirt with the pretty girl on her subway commute? But Jane turns out to be more than just a charming stranger: she's lost in time, displaced from the 70s, and unable to leave the subway. Romance with a dash of timetravel sci-fi, One Last Stop is a delightful story of love and queer community.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine’s mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

Salvation Day by Kali Wallace

A decade ago, the massive ship House of Wisdom was abandoned in orbit after its entire crew was killed in an outbreak in a matter of hours. Now, Zahra and her people hope to claim the ship as their own by kidnapping the sole survivor to gain access. But the danger of the House of Wisdom is far from gone. Horror, no major romance but has a major gay character.

Alien: Echo by Mira Grant

Young adult. Twin sisters Olivia and Viola's parents are both xenobiologists, bringing them all over the galaxy. Most recently they’ve settled on a new colony world to study its life, but it proves more dangerous than they could’ve ever imagined. Under attack from alien monsters, the sisters must keep each pther alive while also coming to terms with a dark family secret. Sapphic horror. Part of the Alien franchise but stands well on its own.

[quantomeno]

My Little Pony and Bionicle

They both already have a team of six heroes who gained their powers from magical stones, a deity-esque figure with an evil sibling, a seductive villain with a horde of bug minions, a focus on the importance of working together and the species of the focus society is weak and helpless in the face of all the crazy threats that live in their world. I could go on but let's leave it there.

More importantly, and what I got to thinking about, was what element toa would the Main 6 be.

Restricting myself to the 6 main elements:

Applejack: Earth. This is so obvious it's not worth discussing. She would probably have a pakari (mask of strength for any MLP fans in the audience). A rode (let's the user see through lies) would also be very fitting given she's the Element of Honesty.

Pinkie Pie: Stone. This may seem surprising, but she grew up on a rock farm and is an Earth pony. She's a toa of stone in the Pohatu mould. One wants to make her air, but she was specifically chosen to not be a pegasus during development. She could have a miru or kadin (levitation or flight) or a calix ("allows its user to perform at the absolute peak of their natural physical abilities" i.e. do seemingly impossible things).

Fluttershy: Ice. This was tough. I wanted her to be water (and she could be comfortably), but her shyness and quietness made me think this is the better fit. She's a little like Matoro (bot hopefully without the same destiny). She'd have either the faxon (lets her copy any rahi (i.e. animal) powers she knows that live in the environment she's currently in), the zatth (can call a random rahi, but can't control them) or the unnamed mask of rahi control. A rau (translation) could work too given it lets you talk to rahi. I think I like the faxon best for its usefulness.

Rarity: Water. She's elegant and beautiful and I would've considered her for earth (for her gem-finding ability) or ice (because she's quite aloof sometimes), but she is altogether too dramatic for those elements. Though water toa are often known for their calmness, we have enough who are decidedly not calm and I feel she fits the image of the ocean being able to go from beautiful to deadly. She'd have a kiril (repairs damaged inorganic substances) which ties in to her generosity. I could also see her with a hau (shielding) because of her shield powers in equestria girls.

Rainbow Dash: Air. I was thinking fire but no, it has to be air. She needs to be able to fly. She 120% has a pakari (mask of speed) and tools that double as wings.

Twilight Sparkle: Fire. She's the leader; it has to be her. She's more a Vakama-style fire toa though. She has perhaps a rau (translation, for reading those dusty old books), a matatu ("Levitation would have been a breeze~", a garai ("I actually studied gravity spells thinking it might be on my test!"), a kualsi (quick travel is the closest we have to teleportation), a mahiki (illusions, vide Magic Dual)... let's just say she loves collecting masks and has a suva full of them. I'm going to say she most commonly wears a matatu for convenience (and because she'd totally have a scope attached and this way I don't need to imagine how it'd work for other masks).

This has opened up too many ideas and I could go on all day.

Also Spike is their chronicler. I mean, he already writes letters to the Princess and was Rainbow's official biographer that one time.

[gatitties]

Straw hats x speedy male reader during the marine ford arc where y/n literally ran out of his way in the ocean using all of his speed despite struggling through the rough waves manages to arrive just in time the middle of the war between the white beards and the admirals since obviously he just can't stand there and do nothing and since the place he got teleported to had nothing to offer and he had to find the others too (yeah sorry If I didn't add much on how it would go tho maybe we could have a moment where he crashes onto the ship so hard that the ship was literally shaking?)

I'm just gonna left this right here since I was suggesting an idea if you could write male reader where he awakened his speed devil fruit and now he has the ability to control the wind using his speed and being able to travel somewhere faraway using teleportation which takes a lot of speed and stamina to do it

(think of it as like a mixture between toothless in HTTYD2 and movie sonic during the baseball scene where they kept on running at full speed as the electricity begins to surround their bodies until they released it, creating a huge shockwave)

(this is something they forgot to put in the request)

—Strawhats x male!reader

—Summary: You seem to awaken some powers that you did not know and you try to help as much as possible but time plays against you

—Warnings: none

─ You separated from the Strawhats in Sabaody like everyone else, the thing was that you ended up on a completely remote island, only a few people lived there.

─ In your desperation to return to your companions you ate a devil fruit that according to the locals could 'teleport' you to other islands.

─ It took you at least a day to think about what you were going to do, and you thought that the villagers had tricked you because you didn't feel any power after devouring it.

─ It was maybe a few hours before the whole battle in Marineford broke out that you noticed some changes in your body, or rather on the outside, they all seemed to go in slow motion while you moved.

─ It was hard for you to come to the conclusion that the teleportation they were talking about was nothing more than supersonic speed, barely having been able to experience the use of powers and with complete inexperience you jumped fearlessly into the sea.

─ You thought you would die trying to run through the water, however when you noticed that your steps were lighter due to the speed you gained enough confidence to run more.

─ Nothing could stop your feet at this point, neither waves nor giant doors, although that was the problem, you didn't know how to stop your run so abruptly, you entered the battle overwhelming many soldiers without even wanting to.

─ You couldn't stop until you flipped a couple of times and crashed into a big ship, shaking the ground in such a way that some people staggered and fell.

─ Luffy was happy to find you there, although fate was already sealed, you tried to help as much as possible, but the exhaustion of getting to Marineford and the little experience with your powers were not the best help.

─ Events did not change and unfortunately neither Ace nor Whitebeard came out of that war alive, but at least you could be there with Luffy after all that.

─ As for the next two years, you dedicated yourself to honing your powers, improving your stamina, improving your speed, you used your 'teleportation' to visit others, although everyone wanted to keep their personal training a secret, you were their confidant.

─ Chopper was so scared to see you there, he gave you a revision and recommended activities so you don't wear yourself out with your new abilities.

─ Nami used you as a guinea pig to create air currents or move clouds.

─ You didn't visit Zoro much because Mihawk looked at you badly the times you went, he's just resentful because you accidentally knocked him down in Marineford.

─ Usopp was glad to share his little inventions and crops to someone, proud boy showing you everything he has improved.

─ Sanji will cry for you to take him to another island, but you just can't interfere with his training (it's a canon event).

─ Franky will ask you to bring him cola because there isn't much around there and Brook will give you a VIP pass to his concerts, he will also ask you to do some kind of show with your speed for his shows.

─ Robin will be glad to see that you're okay, surely she was the one who helped you the most to understand your powers and trained you with the revolutionaries, you needed to get stronger so that things like the Marineford incident doesn't happen again.

[violet-moonstone]

Wings of War Chapter 1 (Preview/Rough Draft)

Working on a HTTYD fic that (for now) is called Wings of War. I have a feeling it's going to take me a very long time to write and that I won't update super often, so I thought I would post bits and pieces while I'm working on it before I put polished chapters on AO3. Here's the (rough) beginning of Chapter 1:

This is Berk, a cold, rocky island surrounded by sea stacks and crashing waves, full of cliffs and towering evergreens through which the wind howls eerily at night and sings in the early hours of the dawn. Our island is dotted with wooden houses and mead halls, earthen huts and stone arenas, farms with turnips and cabbage, yak and sheep. Among these structures live our people: proud, strong Vikings in wool and leather, armed with iron and steel and of course…dragons.

A Monstrous Nightmare to be exact — a flash of midnight blue accented by a grey the same colour as the early morning sky. And on the dragon’s back are a young girl and her younger brother, screeching as they do their best not to fall to their deaths. They speed above and around the farms of the less-populated areas of Berk, startling farmers and their animals alike. An impossibly old man named Mildew nearly tumbles into a puddle but for the sheep at his back steadying him. He raises his fist in the air, cursing the unholy children who, after all these years, insist upon tormenting him with their blasted dragons.

Zephyr and Nuffink are already climbing too high into the air to hear the profanities being screeched up at them. If Moonscale weren’t doing her best to keep the tiny humans on her back from plummeting to their demise, she might give the wrinkly old human below a heated response. But luckily, they fly off and away to a forested area of Berk, leaving the villagers safe...for now.

On an average day in Berk, you can see Terrible Terrors delivering mail, Gronckles and Hotburples in forges, Changewings playing hide and seek with local children, Timberjacks ferrying people and goods to and from nearby islands. Our isle is home to all sorts.

And a girl trying to teach her brother to love flying. The day is not going quite as she planned.

“AAAAAAHHHHH ZEPHYR!” Nuffink shrieks. “We’re too high, too high!”

“Nuffink, I can’t see how high we are when you’re blinding me!” Zephyr pulls at the little hands that grasp desperately at her face.

“Ohgodsohgodsimagonnadie!”

“Nuffink, you’re not gonna—”

“Down! Please let me down!”

Zephyr tries again to gain control of the reigns, but pulls to hard and Moonscale banks to one side, huffing in frustration as Nuffink digs his heels to her flank. Soon, they dip too far and begin to spin. Nuffnk yells even louder, directly into Zephyr’s ear.

“AAAHHHH!”

Zephyr winces. “Nuffink you need to calm down! You’re freaking Moonscale out!”

“She’s freaking me out!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Zephyr can see the blonde braids of Ingrid Ingerman, and beneath her, the purple and gold of her Deadly Nadder, Nightshade. They glide to Moonscale’s side. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

“Oh!” Zephyr shouts, “well that’s a lot of help now, thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” Ingrid replies flatly.

From behind them, Zephyr hears a soft voice, barely a whisper above the Autumn wind. Ingrid’s sister Inga is calling out, but too quietly for them to hear.

“What?” They yell in unison. Ingrid, more successfully than Zephyr, turns in her saddle to try and hear Inga’s words.

They are repeated in a louder, deeper voice from her brother Ingvar. “Look out!”

The two girls have but a moment to eye each other in confusion before they pull up sharply to avoid the suddenly taller treeline before them.

“Phew,” Zephyr exclaims in relief, but too quickly.

“I’m...I’m gonna throw up,” Nuffink wheezes.

Ingrid makes a face. “Oh gods, not again.”

Zephyr scowls at her. “Hey!”

Ingrid shrugs. “If you wanna scrub puke out of the seams of your saddle, be my guest! Just don’t ask me for help this time.”

Zephyr ignores her. “Hey,” she says over her shoulder to Nuffink, trying to yell above the wind in as calming a manner as possible, “we’re just going to find a clearing to land so you can—”

“No, no, no,” Nuffink pleads, his voice muffled against his sister’s back. “Not in the woods! Take me home, please!”

“What’s he so afraid of?” Ingvar asks in a voice that rivals his Thunderdrum. “The woods are just trees. And we have dragons.”

“The dragons make him more scared, muttonhead!” Zephyr snaps at him.

“Hmm,” Inga muses from the back of her pale blue Gronckle, finally close enough to be heard. “He doesn’t look to good, Zeph. Maybe we should land, just for a little bit.”

Zephyr hesitates for a moment, biting her lip. Then she feels her brother’s tears rolling onto her neck. She shakes her head before speeding back towards Berk’s centre.

The Ingerman triplets cast each other wary glances before taking off after her.

You will find an image of Vikings and dragons living in harmony, living and growing in a connection that has lasted for 20 years and will last many more. We defend each other, loyal to the end, integral part of each others’ lives. But the peace between the Vikings of Berk and dragons is not universal. Every so often, we face a new foe, whether it be dragon hunters, poachers, or even those who want to train dragons for nefarious means. They claw at the edges of Berk’s influence of our allies and the settlements we’ve built to house the many who flock to Berk, who see it as a beacon of light in the darkness.

“Nuffink, I need you to calm down, okay?” Zephyr tries again to be soothing as they near the village town square. They’re too high up to make out the little dots below, but she can tell that they’re farmers and merchants setting up their stalls for the day. She didn’t want any run-ins with villagers angry about her disruptive flying — she was becoming known for it. And if falling from her dragon didn’t kill her, then her mother would. “I’m just going to drop you off at home and then—ack!” Zephyr squeals as Nuffink clutches too tightly at her abdomen.

“Oh, Frey I looked down! I looked down, I looked down!”

And now it’s Zephyr’s turn to feel nauseous. She tries to pull away from her brother’s grasp but leans too far. Moonscale huffs in annoyance at her rider’s constantly changing desires but obeys the order she believes she’s been given.

The two Haddock children wail as the dragon dives directly towards the village below.

These conflicts leave many in need of a place to go, and so our borders extend past Berk, to the smaller islands around us, to new ones we’ve had to find. It has not been easy to keep everyone safe, to ensure fair treatment of humans and dragons alike in a community extending so far, but we must, for the alternative to extending our light is allowing the darkness to devour us all.

And what bearer of light is more formidable than a dragon?

Hiccup Haddock can’t help but smile as he reviews his entry for the day. He sits leaning beneath a tree on a hill, overlooking Berk. He woke early despite the heaviness of his eyes and limbs, wanting to get some writing done before the day’s responsibilities took him away from his passions.

“I think I outdid myself this time.”

The black dragon curled up by his side scoffs.

“Oh hush, Toothless, you can’t even read.”

Hiccup ducks as Toothless waves his tail at him.

Berk’s chieftain puts his hand to his head dramatically. “I am totally unappreciated in my time.”

Toothless warbles out a low laugh and rolls his eyes. Hiccup laughs along for a moment, before they are disturbed. They go quiet and almost in unison tilt their heads to the side as the sound of a fast-approaching yell increases, following by a gust of air that ruffles Hiccup’s hair and the pages of his journal. He yelps and accidentally drops his book and charcoal, then skitters after them as they nearly slide down the hill. Toothless sweeps his wing forward to prevent the book from tumbling further.

“Thanks, Bud,” Hiccup says. He straightens up, reaching out to lean on his dragon after the sudden movement elicits a painful popping noise from his spine. “Gah! What unholy goblins are speeding around like that at this hour of the morning?”

He squints into the distance and just barely makes out a pair of auburn braids, a mop of blonde hair, and a large, blue dragon.

His shoulders go slack. “Oh, goody. Those are my unholy goblins.”

[doodlegirl1998]

Here I'm beating the corpse of a horse, but I do find ODD how no one in MHA is even interested in understanding their own quirk bar the basic of basic.

Granted some powers are so simplist that you dont need to waste too much time. Like, Mirko's power doesnt need to be heavily analyzed in the story. She has super strenght and it is ok.

But others? No. I want some explanation, especially and Shig's case. Decay is so powerful (and I do have a thought about afo sabotaging shig in a way. "If he cant know how to use his quirk, better for me" but is a sentiment Hori never dwell well enough bc you know, my abuser academy) but no one has any plan or idea of this quirk.

We have tecnhology to make a clothe to Mirio(not for Toohru of course) why not developed smth it cant be decayed?

Hori:😍my abuser academy

(Then again the bullets are useless and afo is deaging bc........evil plan?)

And now it makes me back to Izu. Our poor mc. He has a powerful quirk and 0 thought about this. Like he was quirkless and now has the power of a god(ignoring the bone crushing thing) and we get 0 introspection. And Izu never analysed his quirk.

I mean, maybe he did as he handles well...but to me it was more of a gamble than anything. No one helped him, Izu doesnt comments about his own quirk ...

And the users doesnt even offer some help...(not bashing them, maybe the second but bc he is BK 3.0)

Hori loves to kill any potential in his story. Its quiete fascinating, its like seeing a captain purposely sinking his own ship for no reason.

Hi @mikeellee 👋,

I think I've mentioned before how odd I find this that not more people are like early story Izuku - eagerly analysing their own and others abilities to explore what they can secretly do.

Even powers that seem simple for example Miriko's rabbit that you mentioned - I've looked this up recently for a fic I'm planning on writing and she doesn't just have super strength* and speed* she has:

Enhanced flexibility*

Enhanced hearing

High pain tolerance*

Animalistically high intuition*

All of these things would be awesome to explore more. Particularly as with her broad array of abilities (the ones I've placed a * by actually are similar to some of the abilities given to Izuku by OFA or high pain tolerance which he had built up through excessive exposure to an explosively abusive BKG growing up) she could have been an excellent mentor to Izuku. She also could have helped Izuku gain confidence by Hori wastes all this potential by turning her into... A stick for his gore porn fetish it seems...

As for the technology to do with quirks and how unequal it seems that could have also been explored narratively. With Shig it's easy to see that as AFO not wanting him to know too much about what he can do and keep him under control.

But why can't Momo and Hagakure have a costume that works with them if Mirio can? It would be interesting if that was sexism, HPSC corruption, the over sexualisation and celebrity nature of heroes but Hori... gave us all this set up then nothing.

To conclude, Izuku over time has been whittled away at - things like his analysis - which I actually enjoyed, vanished. Part of me thinks this is due to Hori's laziness and lack of being bothered to think through every quirk of the people he puts later into the story like Nejire (what happens if she overuses her quirk? Can she die from it?)

But Izuku's lack of analysis into OFA, is that Hori literally can't be bothered so is just shoving out content at this point, seems in universe like he doesn't feel like he deserves to, this doesn't feel like his quirk, it feels like All Mights and Izuku could feel unworthy of analysing it.

[jonathanwrotethis]

Authenticity

Following the quite predictable implosion and subsequent exodus of users from the hellscape that Twitter became once Elon gave free reign to the toxic horde, I “followed the spiders” across the internet in search of somewhere better to procrastinate.

A part of me asks “why bother”. There will always be somewhere new to discover - the internet never slows down. I'm often caught between the idea of setting up a beach-head for myself - becoming a fool on a hill - or descending into any of the “town squares” - the various popular social networks that seem to rise and fall every few years.

I’ve been writing a public journal - a “blog” - for over twenty years. Along the way I’ve seen countless platforms come and go. In the beginning of course there were no platforms - if you wanted to publish your thoughts it meant signing up for a web hosting account. Everybody was an island, and we would spend time building bridges among the archipelago.

In the same way that Wells' martians gazed jealously towards Earth, so Meta must have looked upon Twitter, given the speed with which they resurrected a long dead social experiment, re-badged it “Threads”, and set out on a spectacularly successful user trawling expedition.

For a while Threads seemed like it might be the future for many - an advertising free micro-blogging platform - a free start initially absent of marketers, advertisers, and trolls. Notice the word “initially”. A tipping point has been reached in recent weeks - a critical mass that has drawn the gaze of the brands, marketers and trolls. Suddenly the small-town feel of Threads has begun to erode - with it’s numerous small communities seeing the arrival of chain coffee shops, restaurants, bill-boards, shopping malls, and the inevitable army of trolls, attention seekers and “influencers” that follow any community where they might command eyeballs, hearts and minds.

We’ve been here before.

Blogger, ICQ, Geocities, LiveJournal, Vox, Posterous, Yahoo 360, Jaiku, Plurk, Tumblr, Wordpress, TypePad, MySpace, MoveableType, Google+, Buzz… I could go on.

While a few of those platforms are still with us, they are a shadow of what they once were. As each platform has taken it’s place in the sun migrations have emptied each of it’s neighbours. In more recent times “the community” came together to “fix” the ever-repeating cycle of silos and ring-fenced communities - giving birth to “the fediverse” - the “federated internet” - where no one company owns or controls either a platform, or your data. The only problem with this lofty ideal? It requires effort on the part of it’s users.

People are lazy. And busy.

Why even think about building your own city, when you can arrive on the doorstep of an already thriving metropolis and immediately set about finding your tribe? It explains why Mastodon, Pixeltube, Peerfed, Friendica, and Writefreely have never gained significant traction against the likes of Facebook, Instagram, and Threads.

I didn’t set out to write a monologue. I set out to wonder where might be best to “throw my hat” in the months ahead. Where might be “good enough”. Where I might find a tribe that doesn’t expect too much, but might also appreciate me quietly sitting in a corner and volunteering my tuppence-worth every now and again. Not sharing selfies every day like the attention-whore glitterati that have descended on Threads - more emptying my head into the keyboard about subjects that nobody else was thinking about, or really set out to read about.

You know the funny thing? I may have found my ultimate destination some time ago, but didn’t realise it.

Substack.

Yes, they’re paying to attract influential writers, and yes, they could do with a small army of user interface and interaction designers, but my word has their trajectory been spectacular. Where else can you find the likes of Patti Smith, Margaret Atwood, Salman Rushdie, Stephen Fry, Chuck Palahniuk, Nick Hornby, Richard Dawkins and Pamela Anderson (yes, that Pamela Anderson) writing personal blogs, alongside a rapidly growing community of old-media journalists, retired columnists, and plain-old-garden-bloggers such as myself?

Of course this is me though, and rather than switch platforms yet again, I’m trying to be everywhere, for everybody, all at once (isn’t that a movie title?). I’m cross-posting to Wordpress, Tumblr, Medium, and Substack.

Now and again the urge to find out what other’s think of each platform overtakes me, and a quick search uncovers an entire universe of commercial bloggers espousing Wordpress rule over the internet universe, and how you can buy their get-rich-quick series of posts, videos, and podcasts about how you too can live happily ever after while holed up in a perfect cabin with a laptop somewhere.

It strikes me that the same writers that destroyed Wordpress - turning it into a publishing rather than a blogging platform - arrive at any sufficiently popular platform and mansplain to the masses what to write, how to write, when to write it, and so on - you know, instead of telling anybody how their day went - unless of course that doesn’t preclude carefully posed, heavily photoshopped gym-flex photos of themselves inbetween yoga and boutique coffee shop visits.

I’m not ranting. In the words of the Dowager Countess of Grantham, “I’m explaining”. And certainly not mansplaining - more muttering to myself while the rest of the world gets on with it’s day, oblivious to the unfolding idiocy that doesn’t seem to matter to anybody else.

This post doesn’t really have a point. It’s just me - emptying my head - and wondering how many plates I can continue to spin until they all come crashing down.

Perhaps I do have a point though.

The famous writers that have begun to gather at Substack seem to be mostly independent - devoid of any sort of agenda or mission to prove the validity of what they might share. They are without publishers, agents, or marketers filtering, shaping, or writing their words for them. It’s refreshing, and brings about an authenticity that a lot of the “social internet” has been missing for a long time.

[thommi-tomate]

Interview with Miro Klose

By: Kicker

About his new job as an expert for Prime Video:

When the Prime Video offer came along, I wanted to take the opportunity to further my education. I exchange ideas with Matthias Sammer, analyze matches with him and gain a lot from it. Standing in front of the camera and refreshing my media training from the coaching course also helps me move forward

About Bambi:

That is outstanding. Jamal accepted everything, wanted to implement everything straight away and was always very hard-working. We still write to each other and make fun of his former leather allergy

Leather allergy?

Yes, he made a few Stockfehler (In German "Stockfehler" is a way of saying to ball control mistakes, Miro is making a joke about the mistakes Bambi made was because of allergy to ball leather 😹). And today, when you see how he processes the ball at top speed with his right and left and how tightly he handles the ball, it's a pleasure to watch him

He Is happy for his former boys at Bayern and talk about Florian Wirtz :

Malik Tillman, now at Eindhoven, went his own way, Lasse Günther at Wehen Wiesbaden, Jamie Lawrence at Magdeburg and many more, most recently Frans Krätzig

Will the latter make the breakthrough at the record champions?

Football-wise, he can do everything. The question is whether Frans has the robustness and speed for the Bundesliga. I also tried to bring Florian Wirtz to Munich. As a younger player, he single-handedly destroyed us in the U17 championship. With him and Jamal, you could tell straight away that they were going to appear on the big stage

About Xabi and Leverkusen:

It seems that you can discover a lot of Pep's style of play in him. It's a great asset when you have that feeling as a team: A lot would have to happen for things to go wrong today.

Bayer offer the whole package: great goals, free-kicks, corner kicks. It's beautiful to watch, there's meticulous work behind it.

Will Leverkusen threaten Bayern on the road this season?

I would like to see their play rewarded in the long run. I don't hope that Leverkusen will collapse. So far, they've made too solid an impression on me for that to happen. And it depends on how they react when setbacks occur

About the NT:

I hope that the players will remember that they represent the German national team, which has gone far in most tournaments in the past. You can't just start making an effort in the round of 16 or quarter-finals

The team has something to make up to its fans. The quality is there, as always. It wasn't down to quality at the 2018 World Cup or in Qatar. The fundamental questions for the last 10, 15 percent are: How much is each player there for the other, how much does everyone put their ego aside? What a fire we had in training in Brazil! There was a bang

[yorshie]

Snippet 2

*Stares at the writing, shakes it sideways, turns it upside down and squints* Guys. I think this is from a Mob AU. It's definitely rottmnt, because there is no way on earth bayverse Leo acts like this. I used Winnie, which is the OC I use in place of a reader when I get tired of writing in second person, or when things might get too *spicy* for second person, so I have no idea where I was going with this.

summary, warnings: Snark. snark. did I mention snark? I'm pretty sure I was just having fun writing imaginary banter. I used breaks in between the snippets so you know when something moves on. Also, just realizing the texting I added was with Donnie, not Leo. Like I said, no idea where this was going.

————————————————

“What is that?” He snagged her wrist, tilted the appendage to get a better look. “Is that cold pizza?” 

“I haven’t eaten yet, nosy.”

“Donnie didn’t think to feed you before dropping you off?”

She shot him a dirty look, and he rolled his eyes skyward. 

“Of course, he didn’t. Go get your coat.” He gestured, let her wrist slip out of his grasp.

“Leo- what, why?”

“I’m taking you to get some food.” Was all he said, as if it was obvious, striding for the door without looking to see if she followed.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Leo.”

That small smirk pulled back on his snout as he looked over his shoulder. “Oh? do you wanna be?” 

She snorted in answer, pulling a chuckle from him as he held the door open. “Smart answer. Now get your coat. If you catch a cold I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Please tell me you are at least driving something sensible tonight.”

“How do you know I didn’t just portal?”

He must of seen the fear on her face, because he quickly added. “I’m joking. I drove. But eh, it’s not sensible.”

“Figures. I don’t think you have a sensible bone in your body.”

He hummed out a laugh, a wicked uptick on one side of his face, and she blatantly shivered. “No. Whatever just went through that pretty head of yours, just. No.”

“Boo.” He said, following after her, and she stopped short seeing the sleek, hungry looking, midnight blue car parked in front of her grandmother’s house.

“Holy shit.” A quick glance between him and the car. “How the hell do you fit in this thing?”

“Carefully.” 

-----------------

“I only drive this when I don’t want my date getting handsy.”

“Yea, no shit.” She was wedged in the microscopic seat, the thrum of the engine behind her an all consuming shake, the chuckling turtle a good two feet away across the panel of controls in the middle. She eyed the stick for a moment, and he caught the wheels turning as he checked the camera to pull out on the street.

“You thought I’d be an automatic guy?”

“I plead the fifth.” She tensed as he pulled into traffic, conscious that they were starting to gain speed in the metal rocket.

“Hah, killjoy. Not even brave enough to get the joke out.”

“I’m too busy being terrified for my life.” It was bitten out, clearly a joke, but his face softened, and she nearly flinched as his hand reached out and rubbed the side of her neck before dropping back to the console. 

“I’ve got you, pretty baby. No need for fear.” That coo, however, was all amusement.

“Fear intensifies.” 

------------------------

D: It seems you are in need of a friend, dear Winnifred.

W: How the hell did you get this number?

D: Your grandmother. I quote “Winnie’s been working so hard lately, but she doesn’t have many friends here.”

W: Jesus Christ.

D: I could go on but we both know older folks have no filter.

W: You better take whatever she said to the grave. I am happy. I have lots of friends.

D: Doubt.

I’m not sure how I fit into the whole friend category, but I thought the chance to bully you too opportune to miss.

W: Of course you did. I’m saving this number as Purple Pain.

D: Acceptable.

What are you doing tonight?

W: Up-potting some roses and watching MASH. You?

D: Meeting my brother for some drinks.

W: That sounds - actually that sounds like a handful.

D: Indeed. Would you accompany me?

W: As in, a date?

D: As in, I don’t have anyone to go with, it’s expected, and I have no one else I would care to ask.

W: … Sure. What’s the dress code?

D: Dress, please. Something either neutral, or purple, modern, tasteful. 

W: Right, right. Statement.

D: Heels.

W: You better be buying drinks if you think you’re getting heels, bud.

D: How I’ve missed your playground antics, Winnifred.

W: I missed you too, nerd

Her fingers paused, reading over the statement. Found she meant it, and took a deep breath, hit send.

His answer came a little later, long enough that she had moved from the living room to the bedroom that had started to feel like her own, trying to remember where the heels she could dance in were.

D: I’ll pick you up at 8. 

Oh, she was going to make him pay.

[kaibutsushidousha]

Class 77, Class 78 and DRV3 characters in BNHAverse and i want to see their intertractions with BNHA characters

This is an ask I got and was working on a few months ago, but I had to stop due to bigger priorities and now I lost momentum so hard that I can't see myself ever finishing it. But this still took too much effort to discard, so I'm deciding I'll release this incomplete version.

If you have any specific character you want me to do this for, I'm attaching this "danganronpa quirks au" tag to the thing, so any one-character ask will be put in the tag with the post that started it. Sorry, but I guess full-cast asks are a bit too much to ask from me now.

I'll pass on their interactions with canon BnHA characters because I don't care a lot about the individual students of class A in general. I will go over their quirks tho, because powers in the BnHA universe are defined by a character's name puns, and that's a fun and unique format to work with here. Due to the vaguely genetic nature of quirks, I'll generally follow the principle that the family name defines what the power is, and the given name defines its specifics.

Makoto Naegi - Nature Hero, Green Thumb - Quirk: Sapling

Naegi means sapling, so he can generate plant saplings. Makoto means truth (see the canon Makoto Tsukauchi with a lie-detecting quirk) so the sapling he creates can grow at the same true speed that the plant grows in nature. It's a really useless quirk for a Hero, reflecting how Naegi is the guy who got into the special school by chance and doesn't really have the skills to belong there.

Sayaka Maizono - Idol Hero, Danser Flower - Quirk: Dancer

The mai in Maizono means dance so she can have a buff-type quirk that gets its power boosts from rhythmic movement. Ideally, she could use a knife or katana to go with it, but if Ninja Hero Edgeshot doesn't carry a sword around from branding, I think heroes aren't allowed to carry these dangerous weapons unless they're part of their quirk (Hawks) or their quirks are useless without it (Snipe).

That one present in DR2 writes Sayaka with the kanji for the danser flower, which is what inspired her hero name here.

Leon Kuwata - Musician Hero, Punk Rock - Quirk: Pitch

Kuwata is named after star baseball player Kuwata Masumi and star musician Kuwata Keisuke, the first thing I decided was that his quirk had to be named Pitch since that's both a musical term and a baseball term. The word pitch has a lot of meanings, but it's generally about highness and lowness, so I guess he can control the vertical movement of thrown objects.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Hacker Hero, Master Code - Quirk: Unary System

Fujisaki's quirk would get inherently complicated and esoteric because the fuji part is the Buddhist concept of false duality. Two things that look opposite but from a more absolute point of view are one and the same. But Fujisaki is a programmer, not a monk, and the programming term for duality is "binary", so the fuji is probably better translated as "non-binary" (no, I don't think the coincidence was intentional).

How that translates into a superpower? I don't know, the best idea I have is making touched objects gain opposite traits. Make fire cold, make vehicles static, make dumbbells light. Weirdly conceptual, but since New Order exists, anything goes here, really.

Mondo Oowada - Japan Hero, Crazy Diamond - Quirk: Katana

The oowa in Oowada is the on'yomi reading of Yamato, as in Yamato Takeru's name. His family can't not have a quirk that makes katana out of their arms. Daiya and Mondo are named after the diamond pun, so there can be some extra emphasis on how unshatterable their blades are.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Kiyotaka - Quirk: Stone Spikes

Ishimaru is a Shouto-like case of someone too emotionally constipated by family drama to come up with a proper hero name. His use of his given name is likewise an attempt to disassociate himself from a famous predecessor's name, but it also doubles as a call back to how Ishimaru's self-introduction involves him discussing appreciation for one's given name.

The Ishimaru name is a Meiji renaming of the Ishiomaru clan (a 14th-century samurai family turned rice merchants after the end of the wars). All versions of the Ishiomaru family crest had caltrops as their symbol, so his quirk should be to spawn and deploy spikes. Stone spikes because the ishi in Ishimaru means stone.

Hifumi Yamada - Otaku Hero, The Alpha And The Omega - Quirk: Automation

Yamada is a name that's already in BnHA. It's Present Mic. So Yamada gets a somehow voiced-related quirk. His Hifumi name means "one two three". So it's a voice quirk that starts a sequence. Spoken commands that continue on themselves. Like ordering your pen to draw the doujin you want while you eat chips and drink coke. (I'm limiting this one to objects because it'd be broken if it worked on people)

Celestia Ludenberg - Fleurdelis Hero, Celestia Ludenberg - Quirk: The Burning of the Versailles Witch

Celes's version of the Yasuhiro name is a real last name, but it's not tied to any known samurai family, so we can only assume it's been a commoner name from its inception. The name kanji means "cheap and widespread". Like its history, it feels designed to spite Celes.

On that note, she should have a fire quirk. The extra layer of irony to her execution aside, fire is the quirk that feels the most like a generic widespread commoner quirk, considering Endeavour managed to gather 30 fire sidekicks completely unrelated to the Todoroki family, and that doesn't even include Deku's father.

Sakura Oogami - Martial Arts Hero, Oomononushi - Quirk: Health

Oogami is as ancient of a Japanese family name as Japanese family names get. Its lineage is detailed in the Kojiki as descended from the god Oomononushi, the benevolent snake god of water/lightning. The clan is tied more specifically to the worship of Oomononushi's bunrei Ohotataneko, the god that wards off epidemics. I say give her the superpower of perfect health so she can train uninterrupted and have her champion status still completely tied to her martial arts talent. Also the extra layer of irony with Ken'ichirou being sick.

Aoi Asahina - Hydration Hero, Flying Fish - Quirk: Hydraulic Power

Asahina is the samurai clan founded by the famed Asahina Yoshihide. She's probably named after him, referencing Yoshihide's classic relationship with onis with Aoi's relationship with "Ogre" Sakura. Ask in a separate post for more details on Asahina's namesake.

I guess she could have a superstrength quirk in reference to how Asahina Yoshihide's mother, Tomoe Gozen, is famed for ripping a man's head off barehanded. It just needs a classic BnHA stupidly specific strength quirk condition. Her first name Aoi means hollyhock, but it's homophonous with the color blue because she's a swimmer, so have it make her stronger the more hydrated she is.

[hrfranklin]

Development Post 4 - School Run Racer

Hi,

It's been a while. I was hoping to make progress and finish SRR a week or so ago but life, coursework and illness (again) got in the way.

I've spent a day or so trying to finish the prototype, and I spent the time implementing a new feature - pick-ups.

There is only one pick-up, which is a coffee. This briefly increases your speed and lifts you off the ground so you can't die during this time. It essentially turns the car into a plane for a given period, with a mix of the Super Star in Mario.

The idea behind this power-up came from such arcade-style games as Mario and Jetpack Joyride, which I mentioned in my last post. The idea also came from my reading of Game Design Workshop, about a month ago now, and the idea lived on a sticky note for a few weeks. I decided the game needed more resources than simply just "health" which is limited to "are you dead yet?" and "score" which has a simple implementation but (as mentioned before) adds a fun level of accomplishment and competitiveness to the game. The book references the magic mushrooms in Super Mario Bros. as a classic example of a power-up resource, which was another implementation for this new feature.

Game Design Workshop also lists "lives" as a classic resource in arcade games, so I considered implementing this too, but ultimately decided against it for a few reasons.

Firstly, I've already implemented this well in my previous prototype, so I don't think I'd learn anything new from doing this. And secondly, I don't have the time. I'm ready to put this game to bed as it's taken me so long to get to this point that I really need to focus on other assgnments, one of which will use my previous prototype, Asteroid Escape, as my team and I will work on the prototype and look to make it much more feature complete.

On the topic of Game Design Workshop, I realised in the section after resources that there are small sections on obstacles and opponents, which made me feel much better about my game, as my game has quite literal obstacles, other cars, that obstruct your path. Also, these act as your adversary/opponent in a way, although the main opponent of the game comes from the score system, and the arcade-y nature of the game. I was glad to see this in the book as it made me realise that I'm definitely picking things up from it, as well as my lectures, such that I didn't need to necessarily write "Obstacles: cars" to design the game around them, it's just logical and common sense/my first nature to include such a thing in the game.

Anyway, back to the power-up. Here's a screenshot:

The power-up uses an idea I discussed before regarding the player bunnyhopping (like Mario) from a car to gain more distance vertically. This is the only way that you can even reach the coffee. The tricky part is that this influences gameplay, as it forces the player into a dilemma. "Do I jump higher so I can clear the car and know exactly where I land? Or do I jump early and less high, so I can land on the car and get the boost and improve my score, but risk being put in an area that's too fast for me right now?". Now, that's very wordy, but it was going on in my head whilst I played, and it made me think of speed boosts in other games, such as Mario Kart, where it can be hard to control, or in Jetpack Joyride, where if you boost too far ahead, the game is moving far too fast for you, and you risk wasting that boost as you'll die soon. That's very wordy I'll admit, but I think introducing such a feature introduced a familiar concept to the game, and more conflict for the player too.

Above is the code snippet for the power-up section, which works well enough for now. I'd show you an actual screenshot of the player collecting the coffee but given I have to actually play the game, and at the same time hit Windows + Shift + S, where S is jump, it's quite tricky and I'm not spending another 20 minutes (yes, 20 minutes), trying to get it working.

That's all regarding what I've added this week, feature-wise. I've also spent some time fixing a few bugs, including:

pressing two keys (i.e -> and D, or ↑ and W) meant you could travel at double-speed

when traveling at a high speed, such as with a score of 300+, the graphics started tearing and breaking badly

These bugs didn't take long to fix, but I learnt how to approach setting a player as having a character behaviour in GDevelop. Regarding the second bug fix, this was more of a "it'll do" fix. I just slowed the speed acceleration down from +100 every 10s to +20 every 2s.

And with that, that's all folks! My work on SRR is done, so I can move onto Assignment 3!

A post-mortem will follow soon!

Thanks!

[lumiereandcogsworth]

So Happy

word count: 540 | Adam’s Birthday!!

tags: fluff, love, tipsy but in a sweet way

on AO3! | top divider roses divider

“Woah!” Adam chuckled, flopping onto his side of the bed.

“You alright, there?” Belle asked, smirking at her silly husband as she sat up against the headboard.

“Yes,” he grinned. He shoved himself closer to her, kissing her cheek and laughing again.

“Did you have a happy birthday, love?”

“Oh yes,” he nodded, pressing another kiss to her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her pregnant stomach. “I had a beautiful birthday. Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Belle replied, chuckling again at how giddy he was.

He snuggled against her for a moment, sighing and smiling like he was a cat resting in a sunbeam. Suddenly he raised his head up again, meeting his wife’s eyes. “Can I just tell you something?”

“Sure.”

For a moment he looked at her as though he might cry, eyebrows drawing together and eyes welling up. But then he smiled, sweetly and without a care. “I love our life together, Belle.”

Belle slowly smiled as she listened to him.

“I love that I spend everyday with you. I love how we talk and laugh and argue—,” he coughed out a laugh, “I love arguing with you.”

She laughed too, touching his cheek tenderly.

“I love that I get to spend all my days with you,” he moved his hand over hers. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

“You will, love. Of course,” she promised, touched by his mildly inebriated worry.

He smiled back, happy to have it all confirmed. He looked down at her growing belly. This little one still had about three months before it would arrive, but Adam had spent every day thinking about it. He laid his palm there, then grinned at his wife again. “I love our family, my darling. Our beautiful family.”

She chuckled, eyes welling up. “Me too.”

Her husband grinned, “And you can blame the extra wine for the bountiful amount of love that seems to be pouring out of me tonight—,” she laughed. “—But, I love you so much, Belle.”

Belle smiled, running a hand through his hair and letting her palm land affectionately along his jaw. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

He returned the smile, leaning up closer and kissing her, locking them in time for a moment, letting the earth fall away. He parted their lips but pressed his forehead to hers, grinning, so overcome with joy. “My darling…” he whispered.

“My love,” she replied. They closed their eyes, touching foreheads, hearts beating as one. After a beat, Belle opened her eyes.

“Little one’s up and about,” she smiled.

Adam looked at her, then to her bump, placing his hand by his wife’s as they felt their child move. Adam smiled, so happy, so content. He shifted his body down a little so he could rest his head on Belle’s shoulder, shutting his eyes as he was lulled to some sleepy state by the excited little dancing steps of their baby.

Belle wrapped her arm around his shoulders, massaging fingers finding his scalp. Peace found its way to them, crashing over them like a wave on a sandy shore. They rested, snuggled in bed, love filling the room so effortlessly as Adam’s birthday came to a tender and sweet end.

[dorimena]

Ugh... been thinking about Aizawa crying during sex. Sucking on your fingers? Tears. Cockwarming? A river has been cried. Pegging him? Fucking waterfalls. Idk, man. Got any headcanons or add-ons about this? Maybe a short little blurb? — 🐬

Oh my-

I actually have this draft somewhere in my files about Aizawa crying during sex and cockwarming him (and I’ve been tempting myself to release sometime soon). But him crying a river because he’s cockwarming you? That sounds incredibly sexy, even better, dear 🐬 anon (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; aizawa shota

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.2k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; implied female reader, cockwarming, pegging, overstimulation (?), crying, cursing, mostly shameless smut, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; crying Aizawa, sobbing Aizawa, slut Aizawa, mating press, couch sex, loud sex, lots of cum

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; yes, horrible title, terrible joke, but it’s kind of funny, right? I got carried away, as you see... will I ever be able to write a blurb? Probably not. It’s not proofread!

𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 (𝖘𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖐.)

He thought it was going to be a romantic date night at your place.

You promised some delicious food, some strong liquor, some nice massages, maybe throw in some soft cuddles as you lull him to sleep.

You did mention before that you had a little surprise for him to reward him for his good work this week, for saving more lives, contributing to keeping the city safe, teaching the kids at UA everything they need to know to excel in the hero world.

And what a surprise it was when you took out his favorite strap on he gifted you. But maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so excited at the idea of you fucking him until he forgets past pains and sufferings, maybe even today’s disappointment with how Kaminari seemed to forget how electricity could very much be well conducted in water…

Because for the past hour or two, maybe three, you’ve had him sitting on your lap with your silicon dick in him, slapping his thighs even if he were to shift, making him leak more tears each and every time the stinging becomes more intense.

You’re tempted in gagging him to see if with the lack of words he’d cry more.

“Stop moving so much, babe. We’re supposed to be relaxing.”

Your mocking purr makes him shudder as he flinched at another slap. Looking down, he can somehow make out, through his tear-covered vision, how his skin is turning red, a blurred handprint noticeable at the edge of the growing redness. He can also see how sticky his thighs are with how badly his dick is weeping in thick blobs of precum. God, has he always been such a slut?

Well, his shameless moan at the appearance below him and the lasting sting on his skin is enough to answer his own question.

“C-can’t he-elp it.” He groans out, trying his best to ignore how much hotter his body keeps getting the more he’s forced to sit still, the more you keep ‘accidentally’ teasing his nipples and play around with his precum covered thighs. Don’t you feel disgusted? Aren’t you?

Because if you are, that’s too bad. He hasn’t felt so proud of himself since-

“Auugh! M-mistress!” Aizawa sobs, feet trying to plant themselves onto the ground to keep himself stable as you slam up into him again, and again, and again.

No signs of mercy ever-present as you drag out of him so, so painfully slow before you go ahead and hit his sweet spot straight on.

Even with his feet on the ground and his back pressed onto your chest to keep him still, his hips still pitifully chase your thrusts, desperation present in every way he twitches and sobs.

He’s not even moaning, or even if he is, it’s just a garbled strain of your name fucked out of him as you coo praises and compliments into his ear, your hands grabbing onto his thighs to keep them spread so that he doesn’t shy away from your cock.

Turning your head a bit to see his face, you grin at how red he is, just like his wet, slick covered dick, his cheeks decorated with trails of hot tears coming from his closed eyes. And once he opens them, he looks into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed upwards as he wonders why you’re smiling like that, as if he were something so magical, so beautiful.

But this isn’t a time for something so romantic, not with how much he’s burning from deep inside his core up to his skin, flushing everywhere that’s possible as he manages to whimper out.

“H-hard, hard! N-need- nngh, ri-ide you!” And a please is whispered so, so sweetly, so softly, so unlike how society sees him as.

“Go ahead.”

And he rides you like there’s no tomorrow, even if you’re still slamming into him at an even faster pace. He can ride you, but you’re still in control of how fast everything goes.

He doesn’t complain, and not like he can even give his usual sarcastic remark with how his mouth's currently occupied letting out a waterfall of cries, moans and sobs, getting louder and bolder with every fast change of speed.

He’s gripping onto the couch cushion below you with such strength, you swore you heard a rip- but that’s alright, it was old anyways. Right now, feeling the way he can’t even control himself to at least act anything but a porn star is rewarding and forgiving enough.

His tears from earlier? You’re sure there’s enough water to bathe in, feeling how it touches your shoulders, seeing how it trails down to his chest, some lucky ones even going to his neglected dick. Poor thing, weeping just as much as the man who’s feared by so many criminals and past students.

This delicious fucking is going animalistic with how he’s bouncing on you, skin slapping polluting the air as much as the smell of sex. You hope neither filter outside into the neighboring apartments, although you’re positive you’ll be receiving some unhappy calls from the landlord.

Aizawa feels so, so hot and so, so close. It’s so painful, too painful, he’s never felt this way before. Maybe it’s how deprived he was for weeks, how starved he was for you, how desperate he was to be able to cum after so many failed attempts.

But he’s becoming so, so, so loud, with his sobs echoing around the apartment, his cries of your name and ‘mistress, mistress, mistress!’ ringing in your ears that maybe you should’ve gagged him. Your fingers will do-

And they did, with how greedily he’s sucking them, as if they offer the finest water to help quench his growing thirst to cum, cum-

“Cu-umming!”

And you let him, not retorting anything, not depriving him anymore as you send the most powerful thrusts you could muster into him to hear him wheeze so, so pathetically, reminding you how old he is, even if just 31.

And his eyes? His beautiful onyx eyes are glowing red, his sweaty, tangled mess of black hair floating in the air giving you the view of how he didn’t only lose control of his quirk, but also how he lost control of his thighs, his quivering, trembling, now cum covered thighs.

He’s babbling anything that comes to mind, it’s difficult to know if he’s praying for mercy or praying in gratitude, his hips still sliding up and down your cock as every hit to his prostate milks out more and more cum, the hot substance spurting onto the floor, onto the coffee table, onto his thighs, legs, feet, everywhere.

It’s so pornographic, so unbelievably out of this fucking world that you just need to see him do it again, even if you’ll have to stay inside of him to keep him horny and hot and bothered.

“Ag- augh- gain?”

Aizawa doesn’t wait for you to answer, and to damn your answer, not with how he still feels his dick burn with more need, still so hard because you wouldn't give it our attention.

But you do this time, switching your position to fuck him deep into the couch, mate pressing him as you flick your wrist furiously as wet sounds join in the symphony of his wails, his pleas of mercy which you’ll never, ever give to him unless he says the safe word or you’re feeling romantic.

[unstoppableforcce]

dirty, pretty, beautiful

— “goddamn… I love to watch you work”

pairing: billy russo x f! street fighter! reader

masterlist | 5.2k | ko-fi

warnings: [18+], fighting, blood, blood kink (?), semi-public sex (? it’s a bar bathroom), slight choking, just overall violence (?) but enthusiastically consensual, all smut is from Billy’s POV

a/n: so maybe, I ignored every other WIP I have to write for billy russo. and yeah, this is 9000% inspired by the scene in 1x12 where billy is clearly turned on watching frank kill a man. but i really like the way this came out so I don’t even care

The warehouse had a stink to it. Musty, heady, metallic… Metallic like the remains of a handful of change against his palm. Metallic like waft of hot rain off the highest train tracks. Metallic like the taste of blood, coating his teeth, smothering his tongue until it was all he imagined he would ever taste again.

Fresh blood had a sweeter smell, a saltier smell even, but as more time passed, as the heat of the daily sunlight poured in through the windows left unboarded, as the frigid, damp night settled within the empty body of the building, the smell grew rancid. A ripe fruit passing it’s best by date, left to sit for far too long. A living liquor left to die, to rot, to stink. It was a smell he was far too familiar with, a smell that laced more of his memories than he cared to ever voice. A smell that, on his worst days, he found himself missing.

With hands heavy like weights, stuffed into his pockets to keep him anchored as the smell flooded his head, he managed his way forward towards the hum of the crowd. Hustlers worked the crowd, kids barely old enough to enlist waving hands full of crumpled bills and corralling bet after bet.

“We’ve got three fights! Three fights left until the main event!” One called.

“Place your bets and place them fast!” The next one chanted, over and over again, louder and louder each time a new wad of cash was pushed into his hands.

“This is a night you won’t want to miss.”

Clearly, the crowd agreed.

The itch of his sweater brought a new heat as he moved deeper into the crowd circled around the main cage, a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck where the collar of his leather jacket met his skin. He knew better than to wear one of his suits to an event like this, but he still found himself missing the fond feel of the expensive fabric, the protective layer it granted him, the height it added to his already intimidating form. A few sideways stares told him he still stood out plenty on his own, but something about being dressed down struck a chord with him he didn’t like.

It was wearing a different skin, a more vulnerable skin, one that left him desperate in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Billy Russo was a powerful man, but he hadn’t always been. It didn’t matter how many years it had been, he spent far too long walking on the edge, toeing a line. The group home, the bullies, the stares that followed his pretty fucking face wherever he went… one wrong move, one bad decision, and he could’ve ended up here under much different circumstances.

It could have been him in the ring, fighting for his next meal, fighting for his life.

His hand scratched at his beard as he shouldered further into the crowd for a better view, doing his best to ignore the brutal stench of violence and the unclean men surrounding him. It didn’t matter what feeling bubbled in his chest, nor what aching memories echoed in the back of his head, he was here for a reason. Recruiting discharged soldiers could only sustain their workforce for so long if special forces remnants and women remained hard to come by. When rumors started to grow, flowering up from the filthy underbelly of the city, a fighter to end all fights, he knew he had to get his offer on the table before anyone else could.

Anvil needed operatives. He had a job to do. The stench of blood and the avalanche of feelings that came with it, that was just… well, he could handle it. With or without his suit and tie.

“... El Tigre and the Mountain!”

The crowd roared for the first fight of the night.

There was a particular bias for the Mountain, which, upon laying eyes on him, made enough sense. He didn’t get the name out of irony, he towered over his opponent by a good foot, and no amount of speed on the smaller man’s part was going to make a difference. The fight lasted, violent hit after violent hit, but within a few minutes, the Mountain prevailed as expected.

Then another fight, just as brutal. Then another.

Watching men beat the shit out of each other, however, was nothing new. If he wanted unthinking violence and filthy brutality, he knew where he could get it a lot cheaper, he was here for overlooked skill, an underestimated killer. He was here for—

“The crowned royalty of chaos, the duchess of destruction, the princess of pain… the one and only…” his voice echoed across the warehouse, rumbling as the crowd grew uncontrollable. “The Queen of Combat!”

If the crowd had allowed enough space between where their rowdy bodies pressed against one another, Billy thought some of them might get on their knees and submit to you right there and then. Hell, the second he laid eyes on you, the thought even crossed his mind.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t linger.

The warehouse shook with unflinching loyalty, his ears defeaned by the corresponding cheers. Shoulders hit into his, shoved from behind, pushed by the guy in front of him, some of the crowd climbing up on the cage just to gain a mere inch closer to you. And yet, you made your way into the cage without sparing a glance to a single one of the aggressive animals clawing at the fencing, unphased by the noise, unflinching. Your chin lifted just above the noise and your graceful stature carried you the rest of the way in. Regal was an understatement, but, watching you as closely as everyone else, he wasn’t sure he even had the vocabulary to find a word that worked better.

Blood stained your hoodie, bruises scaled the ridges of your knuckles, and yet, he was sure that one word from you could summon an army out of the screaming crowd surrounding you. One word from you and Billy… well, the things he’d do for you.

His eyes locked on your knuckles, watching closely as you wrapped the brutalized skin away, then moved to your body as you tossed the old hoodie away. Scars and marks lined your torso—bruises left over from a fight a mere few days ago judging by the healing, scars from fights so long ago they were nearly faded, burns, cuts, slices, bumps… your skin was a war zone.

And he knew war zones. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, a hot pressure in his jeans apparent, he was sure he could lose himself in a war zone like that.

If the man who entered behind you was your opponent, it was clear there wasn’t more than a handful of souls in the whole arena who cared. There wasn’t a single clap out of beat, not one change in the roar of support aimed at you and you alone. He was bigger, sure, but if energy was anything to go by, he could be Paul fucking Bunyan and it wouldn’t have even come close to matching your unwavering support.

“Fighters, get ready.”

Your opponent took a few jumps, slapping his arms like he was Michael Phelps. You took one step forward, rolled your shoulders and leveled your stare.

There was no doubt in his mind who he considered a threat, who he considered a future asset.

“Tap out or knock out.” The kid stood between them reminded, and when neither of their deadly stares shifted, he nodded his head once, blew his whistle, and got the fuck out of the way as fast as possible.

But you… you waited.

Your opponent jumped at you, feigning left then right but not putting much strength either way, hoping for a flinch. A flinch he didn’t get. You didn’t even blink.

You just waited.

And when he opened up his left side in frustration after a series of perfectly blocked hits, you turned it on. He couldn’t even get his hands up fast enough.

It wasn’t like he was some nobody they pulled out of the gutter to have you fight tonight, he was clearly a skilled fighter of his own, it just didn’t matter in comparison. You were quick, controlled, deliberate. Two punches for every one of his. Perfectly placed to have him grunting and groaning while his landed with nothing more than a hiss or blink.

If he thought his sweater was suffocating him before, god, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He could feel the hum of his heart, and the sudden staccato everytime your fist connected with a crack. He could feel his pulse beating through every inch of his body, from his temples to his toes and every throbbing inch in between. Another hit, he could see the blood coating the wraps across your knuckles. Another hit, he could see the crimson staining your teeth.

He wanted a taste—no, he needed one.

A hit to the ribs had your opponent crinkling, a jab to the face had him spinning. A kick to the knee buckled him over, a knee to the chin sent his teeth up into his brain. As blood splattered up your bare thigh, your opponent collapsed to the concrete.

Knock out.

Even if he wasn’t truly out, he knew better than to move, his eyes already swelling shut, his unscarred skin bruised and bloodied.

The crowd went wild, but Billy couldn’t hear. He watched you swipe your wrapped hand against your chin, wiping away the blood from your lips, and he swore his mind short-circuited as his blood rerouted elsewhere. You were fucking gorgeous, you were delicious, you were his new religion, you were… Royalty.

A Queen.

Fuck, he was hard.

With your hand lifted in victory, the crowd reached a volume Billy hadn’t even thought possible, and when you ripped your hand away and moved back for your discarded sweats, the crowd again tried to swarm you. To touch you, to feel your power, to feel you up. He just watched. He’d catch you when you came back out, showered, with cash in your hand. In his experience, people were much more open to recruitment when they weren’t being verbally and sexually harassed by hoards of disgusting men with filthy leering stares.

It took about an hour, stood outside in the back alley where the late night wind beat him up with freezing gust after freezing gust, but when you came out, you were alone. That alone made it worth it.

Shouldering open the heavy metal door dressed in fresh sweats hanging loose off your hot muscles, you made it a whole two steps before you caught sight of where he lingered in your peripheral and nearly jumped out of your skin. “Staking out this door is a good way to get the shit beat out of you, you know.”

The cool bite in your tone hit even harder than the wind, but neither did anything to cool him down. In fact, his smirk only grew as you raised your chin in a stubborn challenge.

“Don’t worry, I come in peace.” He defended, lifting his hands where they held in his jacket pockets for the warmest show of surrender he could muster.

“Not interested.”

He took a careful step forward, eyes holding your piercing stare. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Don’t have to.” The bag hanging over your shoulder shifted as the wind whipped by once more, and you quickly moved it down your arm as the weight found one of your more grueling injuries stretching the length of your collarbone. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, maybe you could have hidden your shrug, but he saw it all, he wanted to see it all, even as you argued back. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it in my life.”

Your feet found two more steps away before he pulled you back with his sly smile and slimier argument. “Just one drink.”

It’s not frustration that stops you this time, it’s curiosity, one brow raised as your arms cross over your chest. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer. For the first time, that perfect exterior cracks, his brow furrowing and his mouth left open. “What—“

“I mean…” your laugh shook him out of it, the sound something rough and throaty. “Seriously? I thought for sure you were here to recruit me for something, with this whole pretty boy soldier off-duty look you’ve got going on but no… you want to get a drink? Seriously? You waited out here for an hour in the cold because you want to fuck me?”

He cleared his throat as his stare and smirk absconded, was it really that obvious? Did he really even care if it was?

Business Billy, he reminded himself chastely.

Cutting the distance between the two of you in half, he extended his hand for a shake he knew he’d never get once his mouth opened. “Billy Russo,” he introduced.

Your smirk fell in the same second

“That Anvil guy?”

His hand pulled back and his disposition shifted to the only defense it knew, a cocky smirk and casual shrug. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

“You take good people who get out and you toss them right back in.” The cold bite had vacated your tone entirely, and what replaced it, the heat of your righteous indignation, reignited the fire he felt when you were fighting. A match strike. A sharp cut against a stick of flint.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten it before, but coming from you… well, he just couldn’t turn his cheek to it. “I help those who can’t get back on their feet—“

“You help them get back to the hell that messed them up in the first place, you mean. How charitable.” The sarcasm was a slap to the face, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a step back.

“At least I take care of my people, I pay better, I—“

Your scoff echoed around the empty alley, bouncing off the dumpsters and brick walls, reverberating in his ears until it was all he could hear. “Yeah? And just how much is a life worth to you?”

His jaw clenched. “More than the government, sweetheart.”

“That’s not really saying much, is it?”

He let loose a sigh, a breath of tension he didn’t even know he was holding as his shoulder twitched and his stare found anything to look at that wasn’t you. What was he supposed to say? What argument could he voice back? You had a point. Hell, he could see a younger version of himself making the same argument back when things first got bad over there, back when he first thought about getting out.

The sentiment was respectable, and your stubborn tenacity was nothing to scoff at, but this wasn’t about heart.

Some people just don’t make it out. Some people can’t. Why was he so wrong for offering them a path back, what was so immoral about offering the opportunity for them to profit off of what they were previously exploited for? If he didn’t do it, then someone else would. And at least… at least he cared. At least he knew what it felt like to come back home and not have a home waiting for you, to have blood on your hands so violently red that you can’t go back into the real world without people noticing.

Your knuckles, scarred and scabbing, told him that you knew too. You found your way back to the fighting, just like the ones he recruited to work for him. Were you really so different?

And still, a part of him knew that voicing that question, in that way, was a good way to get beat up.

His eyes found yours again as his hands lifted and fell back down to his sides, defeated. “You’re right, but it’s just the way things are. Not all of us come home and end up underground fighting royalty.”

Your head shook as you muffled your rough laughter. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Now it was your stare that redirected, eyes dropping to your feet before you let them scale their way back up the rocky terrain of his dressed down form. Worn boots, dark jeans, tight sweater, leather jacket, and that face. That pretty face. Exhaustion buried in the bags beneath his eyes, frustration laced in the furrow of his brow, a familiarity in the darkness of his eyes, a void of everything you remembered, skilled violence and inescapable grief, a void so familiar, a void you could lose yourself in.

It was late. It was cold. And you were alone. You were always alone.

You had made worse choices.

Sucking your bottom lip in tight between the bite of your teeth and slowly letting it out, you cocked your head to the side and began working on the last of your stubborn defenses. “If I say yes to the drink, is it just going to be more of this recruitment talk?”

His head twisted into a similar quirk, his smirk slowly gaining back its traction on his lips as he took you in with a similar once over. He inched one hesitant step forward, and when you didn’t shy away from the renewed heat of his attention, he took another. “Well I mean… I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much talking we do.”

—

It had been a while since he last had bathroom sex.

His boots stuck to the filthy linoleum floor, making every shift of his footing an extra effort. The shitty fluorescent light overhead flickered in and out with an infuriating lack of rhythm, blinding one second and pathetically inadequate to see you beneath him the next. But as his fingers gripped tighter around the flesh of your thighs, pushing you down into the cool porcelain of the sink he had you sat on, he had to admit that you were right. For everything it was, at least the sink was clean.

“So…” The burn was exactly what he remembered it to be, the cheap liquor clawing at his throat as he forced the shot down, chasing it with a quick swig of the even cheaper beer you had ordered for him. “This is your bar of choice?”

There had been six shots, three for each of you to start with, but you smirked around your final shot and he couldn’t even think ahead to his second. “Is that judgement I hear?”

He could feel his shoulder tick as he corrected with a slow drawl, “curiosity.”

“There are worse bars.”

“There are better ones too—“ His hand caught yours as you reached for one of his two remaining shots, his fingers wrapping carefully around yours. “Do you mind?”

You tried to pull back but his grip didn’t budge.

“You didn’t seem interested,” you fought, following his eyes as they dipped down to your busted lips. Again, you tried your hand. Again, he refused to let go.

“I’m plenty interested.”

You could feel his grip loosen, but this time, you let him hold it there. If anything, you leaned into it. Reaching with your other hand, you brought your bottle to your mouth and wasted no time licking up the remnants of your sip left behind across your bottom lip. Again, his stare followed, his nose scrunching as something deep in his chest began to burn. Again, you leaned into it, close enough for his cologne to overtake any of the thousand other smells swirling around the packed bar.

“Actually,” setting your beer back down, your unoccupied hand found the inseam of his jeans, his legs perched open on his stool with you sat between them. “I like this bar because the bathrooms are the cleanest.”

Picking up his next shot, he couldn't help the twist of his brow nor the uptick of his heart rate as your fingers teased higher. “The bathrooms?”

“Yeah…” your casual tone betrayed the tension pulled taut between the two of you. Every point of contact had him burning. Your hand in his, a candle flame he couldn’t stop drifting his hand over even as it burned. Your hand inching on his thigh, a creeping flame following a line of detcord towards explosion. Your stare, a rumbling volcanic heat mere seconds away from erupting. The rowdy crowd surrounding the two of you was nothing, the stuttering breath fleeing your chest all he could hear.

He leaned in, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

You leaned closer, pulling your hand from his thigh to take his last shot for him. “You ever been fucked over a filthy sink, Marine?”

He prided himself on his composure, in battle and in bed, but fuck, with two fingers inside you feeling you clench around him and his head buried deep in the crook of your neck inhaling the harsh stench of industrial soap trying it’s best to cover the smell of blood, he could feel himself skirting dangerously close to an edge he wasn’t ready to fall off of yet. His dick wasn’t even out of his pants and still, when he thrust a third finger into you and saw your brutalized knuckles wrapped around his bicep, nails digging through the thick fabric of his sweater, his name falling wrecked from your lips, he very nearly lost it.

“Russo— Fuck—”

“You like that?” He challenged breathlessly back, biting down hard on your battle bruised shoulder to keep it together as you grew closer and closer to the same edge. The light flickered and his stare shifted back up towards your face. A Queen brought to a trembling mess, teeth piercing the already torn center of your beaten lip. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” The whine that accompanied your words betrayed the cut of them and his smirk only grew.

His lips scaled the scarred terrain of your shoulders, climbing up the bruised battlefield of your neck, nipping at every inch you offered him with your head thrown back against the steamed up mirror. “Shut me up.”

Your chuckle intercepted your heaving breath, the hot pants hitting his skin and flushing his cheek. “Yeah?” You challenged, your words ghosting over his lips as he drew ever closer. The cut of your nails dug into his arm pulled back, your grip settling comfortably around his throat instead as you inhaled his violent groan. “Make me cum.”

He fought against your vice-like grip as you squeezed tighter and tighter, stealing a singular kiss from your lips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

These were his cheapest jeans anyways.

Dropping slowly to his knees, his neck pulled from your grasp and his mouth found your ready and weeping heat. With one lick, your thighs closed around his ears, one suck of your clit between his lips and one of your calloused hands found his hair while the other gripped tight to the sink for any hope of stability.

“Billy—”

His fingers had worked you too close to the edge already, it didn’t take long before his fingers, still deep inside you, found the right spot and the burning pressure of his mouth on your clit had you soaring. The beating pump of your blood filled your head, the thumping echo all you could hear as your vision began flickering in time with the ancient fluorescent over head. You could feel him moaning into you, your stubborn grip holding tight to his previously pristine head of hair, dragging you closer as your screams no doubt echoed around the small bathroom.

Maybe the music and the boisterous crowd outside in the bar would be loud enough to cover the sounds. Maybe not. He couldn’t care less.

All he cared about as he fought his way back to his feet was the lazy pull of your hand in his hair. All he could ever imagine caring about for the remainder of his lifetime was the effortless drag of your tongue over his chin and lips, collecting the remains of your orgasm before sucking him in for the longest kiss of the night. Loose. Languid. Luxurious.

“Was that up to your standards, your highness…” he murmured with a smirk along the side of your mouth, his hands scraping down to your thighs, dragging himself closer.

Your grip found itself again in his hair, tugging tight. “Take your pants off.”

“Ask nicely.”

He felt the warmth of your scoff against his cheek, but you agreed in the only way you knew how, your hand not buried in his hair dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Please…” your lips pressed once to his chin, then to his neck, soothing the crescent mark your own nails had left. One kiss, then another, and before he could reach his hand to his own belt to comply, you bit into the mark and deepened the color. “Take your fucking pants off.”

His lips twisted into a snarl, but he had his belt off and his pants open in record time.

The condom in his wallet was only supposed to be a backup, but he had never been more grateful for his disgustingly hopeful thinking than he was to find it exactly where he had remembered it being wedged between the folds of leather. And as you pulled him out of his boxerbriefs and rolled it on with a few lazy pumps, your satisfied smirk told him you were equally grateful.

Still, your fought. “It’s not expired, is it?”

“God, I hate you.” He swore back, but his heart left halfway through the words, his chest deflating, a nearly whimpering moan leaving his lips as he pushed into your soaking folds. “I fucking—“

Your hips rolled as he seated himself fully within you and again, his breathing stuttered. If he thought he was close before, this was just embarrassing.

He remembered the ruthless violence of your fight, the blood running from your nose and staining your teeth, the strong pull between your shoulders as you landed hit after hit. He gripped tight to one of your thighs with one hand and flattened his other palm to the mirror behind your head as his pace picked up. He remembered the echoing crack as you landed your final blows, the utter brutality that oozed from you as you moved from one hit to the next. He dragged your hips closer, he pulled you flush against his chest, muffling your cries into his sweater.

He remembered your knuckles and every groan they elicited. He kissed your jaw, unable to stop himself from thinking of how many you had broken.

The rough drag of him inside of you was taunting, the feel of him so full yet your climax still dancing out of reach. It was too much and too good all at once. Too little and too overwhelming in the same breath.

“Billy—“ your broken sob tore through his chest with a heat he didn’t even recognize, a burn so heavenly he swore a sunburst sliced through him. “Fuck— Russo, yes—“

Every muscle in your body tightened around him, squeezing him, clawing at him, destroying his composure. He tried to draw it out, he tried to fight back from the edge, but your moans turned to music and his head emptied out. “I—“

“Come on,” you cooed, your words slurring as you forced his lips back to yours. He was melting, the heat was too much, searing his insides, charring his heart and fuck… he was melting into you. “That’s it.”

His nose scrunched, his teeth baring, a guttural snarl escaping his fiery chest as he powered himself even further into you. Again and again and again and— “Shit…”

You whimpered as his hips stuttered, you whined as he fell still.

“Shit…” he repeated, trying one last languid thrust as he found his way back down from his blinding high. “That was… fuck…”

“Yeah,” you muster just enough breath for a chuckle. “Yeah it was.”

He barely had enough time to catch his breath before you were pushing him back on unsteady legs, he barely managed to catch himself on the neighboring stall before you hopped down of the sink. He wanted to laugh at your sudden urgency, make some kind of joke, or pull you close and disregard it entirely, but he still couldn’t breathe. His hair fell in his face, his sweater rucked up around his waist and his dick barely soft—

He was a mess. A wrecked mess without the words to stop you. You already had your pants back on by the time he had the condom tied off in the trash, you were fixing yourself in the mirror before he even found a hold on his belt.

“You know, I know some bars with nicer bathrooms.” He finally fought, catching your attention as he fed the tongue of his belt back through. “Better beer too—“

A battering knock sounded on the door, making both of you jump. “Can you two hurry it the fuck up! Some of us have to pee!”

Neither of you two could hold yourselves back from laughing at that, breathless or not, even Billy felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks. Not for getting caught—no, surely that was inevitable in a place this packed—but because he really didn’t care, because he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You had to feel the same, that had to be as good for you as it was for him, god it was better than good. If you wanted him on his knees, he would beg. If you wanted to wreck his shit, he’d say ‘yes, please’—

You pressed a firm hand to his chest, forcing him back to the stall wall. Your lips hovered over his, so close, he could taste your breath. “This won’t happen again, pretty boy.”

His head quirked with a glare, your hand keeping him in place as he fought towards your lips. “No?”

“No.” Your lips grazed his as they formed around the word but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s a maybe then?”

“No, it’s not.” He could feel your pulse, the beat of your chest pounding against his as you keep him just close enough and still too far away. He could feel the lie as you made it.

His smirk only grew as his lips touched yours. “Well, if we’re not having sex, you should just come work for me.”

You hand slammed him back but he just laughed.

“Not fucking likely, Russo.”

He surged against your grip for one last kiss before you pulled back. “Well,” he sighed, slumping back against the wall and finally accepting his defeat. “I know where to find you, at least.”

Even your stubborn tenacity couldn’t hide your smirk as you unlocked the door. “Maybe so.”

That wasn’t a no.

[echos-newlegs]

Hi!! I would love to request number 13 with Tech! I feel like he would definingly ask you to hold hands for ""Science"" (and no other reason why do you ask) Readers pronouns are she/her, and pg or smut whichever is fine :) Thank you so much!

For Science

hhh this would be so cute and we stan him asking in the name of science. Because honestly same,

Tech x Reader: “I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand..”

Warnings: semi smut. I mean it leads up to it, but the moment gets ruined so it’s mainly just kissing, lmao. 😎 I was too tired to actually write smut.

Tech wasn’t really even sure when he started liking you. Of course he always liked you. Who couldn’t? You were amazing, beautiful, strong, courageous, smart.. Plus you not only listened to him, but you rambled with him. But that was besides the point. He was catching feelings for you. The new gunman and technician that clone force 99 was assigned. And he wanted to act upon those feelings more than anything.

He started small. Bringing you caf everyday. Just the way you liked it. It made his day just seeing the smile that came across your face when he would enter the room with a steaming cup for you. Catching you in a small conversation if you weren’t too entirely busy.

Then he started with small touches. Nudging you more, or tapping your arm to gain your attention. Or squeezing your shoulder or patting your back when you accomplished something and he was congratulating you.

You never really took too much time to think about it. You thought he was just being nice, and honestly? You loved it. You were just as touch starved as they were, and the contact made you feel something. Made you feel warm and appreciated.

After a few weeks of this. Nearly a month, actually. He got a new idea.

You were sitting in the copilot seat, waiting for him to make his entry. You had nothing better to do, all your tasks finished. So what better thing to do than sit with your favorite Batcher? Talk with him while he flew you and the gang to the planet that was actually pretty far away. You honestly weren’t too thrilled about the trip at all. Long flights always bored you.

Tech made it into the cockpit. Turning your head as you were slid down in your seat. Hands on your stomach. Eyes watching as he walked over to the pilot seat and began checking over things. “Ready for the trip?” You asked, and caught a glimpse of his smile. “I guess,” he spoke. “Not really much to be ready for.” He flipped a few switches and checked over the gauges as he readied the engines.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you excited about doing the same thing we’ve done a million times, then heading back to 79’s and getting hit on by random strangers?” You were being sarcastic, and it made him snort. Smile spreading across both of your faces. You just loved it when you could make him smile like this.

He sighed when he finally got the ship out of the atmosphere and into light speed. You both relaxing a bit. Though he relaxed more than you, since you were practically already relaxed. Just hitting a few switches here and there for him since he normally always had piloting under control. Which you admired him for.

He reached over and tapped your shoulder. Catching your attention as always. "Hm?" You hummed, watching as he shoved up his glasses using his index finger. "Can I hold your hand?" He asked. His question baffled you. Blinking a couple times, but you only shrugged. Not thinking twice of it. “Uh, sure, you good, goggles?” You teased as you held your hand out. Tech gently taking it in his own. Gloved thumb running over the back of your bare hand.

You noticed his gaze was elsewhere. Not on you anymore. His face even looked pink. “Uh yeah,” he stammered. Mentally cursing himself. Clearing his throat. He honestly thought this out before doing anything. “It’s a test.” “What sort of test?” He should have known you would ask that.

He thought, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. Lifting his head once more so his eyes would meet yours. “I wanted to test out a theory I had.” He spoke, shifting a bit in his seat. His hands now playing with your fingers. You wanted to squeal, it was so cute.

“Have you ever watched an infant grab someone’s finger when a parent, or even someone at random places their own finger in the palm of their hand?” You nodded. “Yeah. On the holo, why?” You were growing intrigued. You always found his spews so interesting. Especially this one.

“That’s known as the grab affect. Infants, especially of the human species, crave touch. Well, really any age of person does. The signs just show as early as infants even up to four weeks before they are born. Sucking thumbs, grabbing their umbilical cord. Or twins will even hold each other’s hands in the womb. It shows in other species of Aliens as well.” He told you, you nodding along with him. “Like when some babies cling to their mothers, like apes for example. It’s a common craving and it all comes down to how our brains are programmed.” He added, bringing a hand up to tap the side of his head with a soft smile. Hand dropping back to his lap.

“I find it quite interesting, really. They are saying, and have even in some ways proven that skin on skin contact. Like for instance, holding hands.” He gave your hand a light squeeze,” let’s off a chemical in our brain called ‘Oxytocin.’ It’s a neurotransmitter that helps our brains release feelings of trust, generosity, and compassion.” Tech told you.

You took in this information like it was gold. Watching the words fall from his mouth with an intent look. “They have proven that a lack of touch, which is often known as touch hungry, or touch starved. With children can lead to physical disabilities, such as a stunt in growth. Plus mental ones. It’s most common in adults, the mental issues are. Adults can get severe depression or even anxiety from the lack of being touched, you know?” He informed you, and you shot him a lopsided smile. “You feeling depressed or anxious, Techy?” You asked, and he smiled at that. “Not when I’m around you.”

You felt the blush creeping up the back of your neck. Kriff this was adorable. He is adorable. “They also have found that when fingers are interlaced, like this.” He interlaced your fingers with both hands. Eyes watching what he was doing, carefully. “Heart rate goes down, blood pressure goes down, and it puts your body in a relaxed state. All because of the pressure receptors that are triggered just from holding hands, though interlaced fingers triggers more of those receptors. Which are called the vagal activity,” you hummed and nodded. Watching as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“So..” he trailed off, his voice lowering, and you waited for the question that would soon follow after. “Do you feel more relaxed, mesh’la?” Your lips pressed into a small smile at that question, and you nodded. “Yeah.. I actually do, that was really interesting, Tech.” You told him, and nearly exploded at the wide grin he shot back at you. “Really?” He asked, he always seemed so shocked when you enjoyed his lectures.

“Yeah, I did,” you assured him. Watching as he stood from the seat. Using his hands still interlaced with yours to pull you up from your seat. A sudden burst of confidence flowed through him, like a rush of adrenaline did after nearly being shot on field. Hands squeezing yours as he brought you closer. You nearly stumbling into his chest. Looking up at him with furrowed brows. “Because, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.” He nearly whispered. Voice lowered and, well.. Deeper. Your lips inches apart, and you could nearly feel his breath on your lips. Sending a shudder down your spine.

“But with that being said, I do want to test a theory.” You blinked a couple times, then licked your lips. “And what’s that?” He leaned in a bit closer, your noses brushing now. “How much more oxytocin a kiss from you would release, than just holding your hand.” He added, and your smirked a bit. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He leaned in, finally closing the gap between the two of you and it felt so.. Euphoric. Your hands released one another’s to roam each other’s bodies. One of his hands moving to run through your hair, the other resting on the small of your back. Pushing you against him. You had one hand in his hair as well. Your other hand resting on his chest.

The two of you parted. Eyes fluttering open. Looking to one another with small huffs and pants. “So,” you started, and Tech still looked like he was trying to catch his breath. “Amazing,” he cooed. The hand in your hair moving to cup the side of your face. “So fucking amazing,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “How about another, then?”

It didn’t take asking him twice for another kiss. He was pulling your lips back to his in and instant. This kiss was a bit more desperate. Deeper, yet still soft. He wasn’t too rough and it drove you crazy.

Your lips parted in a gasp when he guided his thigh between your legs. The friction making you cling to him like a child. His tongue slipping into your mouth. Exploring and studying every inch of it like it was his job.

You pushed him a bit, and he backed up. Backs of his knees hitting the copilot seat and he sat down. Guiding you into his lap. Never breaking the kiss. Your legs now resting on either side of him.

He pulled from the kiss to spread kisses down your jaw. Lips leaving light and feathery trails down to your neck. Mouthing over the skin. Nipping the areas that had you gasping and nearly moaning. Your hands running under his blacks. Fanning over his stomach, then moving up to his chest. Rubbing at his tanned skin, and he groaned.

You both jumped when you heard the door to the cockpit swish open. Still sitting on his lap since his hands were still placed firmly around you. Your own hands moving to yourself. Techs shirt still hiked up right below his chest. You were both disheveled and practically holding your breaths as you stared at the door way.

Cross was standing there with Hunter. The two had shocked expressions at first, but then Crosshairs look turned into a small. What seemed to be, proud smile. Hunter just looked mortified, then glared. “You’re watching where we’re going, right?” He hissed, and the two of you were frozen. “I have the coordination set for the coordinates.” He clenched his jaw and eyes shut at his repeating of the word coordinates. Mentally cursing himself for not locking the door. “You better be paying attention, and just kissing, Maker.” Hunter muttered and walked out. Back to the bunks to probably lie down.

Crosshair was still leaning in the doorway. Pulling the toothpick from his lips with a smirk. Winking at Tech, then giving you a nod. “I knew you had it in you, Vod, don’t go doing anything I wouldn’t do.” He spoke, then walked out. Door shutting behind him.

Tech sunk into his seat. You still hovering above him. Climbing off a bit awkwardly. “We’ll never hear the end of this” Tech spoke in a mortified whisper. “It can’t be that bad... Right?” “Oh... It’s that bad.”

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid 

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent 

[amazingphilza]

maniac :: cc!tommy x reader

angst (?) , platonic (?) , gender neutral ! ib: conan gray’s maniac

this is satire & note that i write the reader to be a few months younger than tommy (besides that, i think it is fully inclusive !)

synopsis : you put all your hard work towards a useless crush. with no expectation for reciprocated feelings in the first place, it still all ends in a bittersweet slap to reality.

you grew up with minecraft and it was an understatement to say it was part of your childhood

even years later, you still maintained interested in the game

it wasn’t just a simple video game, the community inspired you to do many things

you aspired to be like the creators you watched at a young age like sky, dantdm, cupquake, stampy, and many more

making people happy and entertained was a dream

and when minecraft slowly began trending again in 2019, you started making your own content whenever you felt like it out of fun

you never got much views but it was an enjoyable experience nonetheless

but it wasn’t until the first minecraft monday you decided to push a bit more with your hobbies and worked hard to make it somewhere

however balancing your passions with school wasn’t the easiest

given, you were still only around 15 and your content wasn’t even that good

with not much of a goal or plan with your youtube channel, you fell out of interest eventually

you loved minecraft but you always a rocky relationship with it; getting back into it for a few months then pretending it never really existed for another few

besides the occasional videos you watched in your pass time, you didn’t stay that updated

then lockdown happened

it changed everything and even got you regressing back to old interests

soon enough you were back to minecraft

there was so much to catch up on

hermitcraft season 7 just started, there was minecraft championships, and smp earth and smp live, and so much more to look forward to watching

you were a bit late on both of the smps but your interest peaked specially towards smp earth and it didn’t stop you from watching the past videos

you first gravitated towards a certain youtuber’s videos first since you remember stumbling onto his videos before from your recommended page; wilbur soot

besides recognizing him from his you laugh you lose series and making parody-type of songs, you didn’t know much

however with a few clicks, you had binge watched his smp earth series effortlessly

you found yourself falling down the endless hole, finding more creators to watch through wilbur

one in particular caught your eye in an interesting way

tommyinnit

my god, how can someone be so annoying and pushy in these videos? like shut up already

and to find out he was barely months older than you frustrated you

you just wanted to be better in some way

if someone like him could be popular, why can’t you? yelling at others and causing problems didn’t seem that hard

and so you went back to working hard on your previously failed youtube channel but this time with a goal; be better than tommyinnit

it was a weird aspiration in your head but it worked

he was your age and successful, why need a better motivator?

tommy wasn’t the sole reason why you strive to make content since you truly did want to create videos to entertain people like the youtubers you originally grew up watching

and with the amount of free time you had, you thoroughly analyzed his content; what was the most popular, how he streamed, edited his videos, everything

you just completely studied the algorithm in general

along the way, tommy’s personality grew on you

tommy was undoubtedly a very loud and energetic person but you became fond of his ambitions

you understood why he was popular at such a young age; he was a natural entertainer

your spite towards the boy turned into a hope

a hope to be at par with him someday and even be mutuals

and it was like your dreams were suddenly manifested into existence

you gained a large following in the early months of lockdown and even was recognized to be apart of minecraft championships

it felt like yesterday that you were just watching your favorite youtubers livestream the same competition

and now you were situation in a team to play yourself for the first time instead of being a viewer for once

not to mention, with tommyinnit as a teammate

how did you manage to get so lucky?

under the excitement, you felt beyond never nervous waiting in the empty discord call for your team to join you to practice the mini-games

in the middle of gathering your thoughts together, you heard a sound from discord signaling someone joined the call

“uh, hello?”

you heard the familiar british accent you spent hours listening to from countless streams and videos

“h-hi! i’m y/n, how are you?”

you hoped tommy couldn’t hear the strain in your voice due to fighting your nerves, but you quietly celebrated that you didn’t freeze up altogether

“oh i’m good, thank you. and i’m tommy by the way, this is the first time we’re speaking, yeah?”

“yep! it’s nice to meet you”

“yeah, i’ve seen your name around the timeline a few times, you seem cool”

oh my god what?

“thanks! um i actually really enjoy your content not gonna lie”

“oh wow, good shit!”

and the conversation smoothly went on, bouncing back and forth between you two before your other two teammates joined the call

once everyone was situated, you decided to start streaming since it was your first mcc and you wanted a vod of you practicing to look at later on as a memory

your chat immediately noticed how much you were enjoying yourself, especially after all the short stories of talking about who inspired you in the past

the smile plastered on your face never left

after stream and your other teammates went offline, it was you and tommy left in the call once together again

“it was nice talking to you tommy! and the practice was really fun, i cant wait for the actual competition!”

“yeah definitely, we’ll for sure place high”

“hopefully. it’s my first time and i hope i don’t cost us the dub”

“nah, you think so? i mean rt and plumbella are also our team mates so you know, it’s all for fun in the end”

you knew tommy was implying the teamwork wasn’t going to be the best compared to the other teams but at least in the end you’ve both made a new friend

“yeah you’re right!”

“anyway it’s getting late imma hop off”

“okay tommy, talk to you soon?”

“yep!”

“alright byee”

“bye!”

the moment he left the call, you felt a sense of relief before a small wave of sadness took over

you wanted to continue talking to tommy but you knew you had other responsibilities to tend to

for the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking of the call and mcc practice

the funny jokes, singing random songs, screaming for no reason, everything

it even kept you awake until the early morning

you buried your head in a pillow and screamed into it after realization hit

y/n no

no no no no no no no

you tried to recall anything that remotely related your other teammates which you remembered that didn’t include tommy

even if it was a few hours ago, you couldn’t pin point something specific

no

i must just be forgetful, right?

what the hell did rt and plumbella even say that whole call?

you vividly remembered everything with tommy and it was clear to you why

surely not

with putting a hand on your chest above your heart, you confirmed that you couldn’t lie to yourself based on the rapid speed

you liked tommy for a good while but it hadn’t clicked to you until now

eventually you fell asleep due to exhaustion but that’s to say you didn’t do so without imagining spending more time with tommy

ever since that day, time went by in a flash

your team didn’t do the best in mcc but it had been a while since then to have that as a concern

sadly you and tommy didn’t talk as often as you hoped but that didn’t make you have less feelings for him

on some days you felt bad since you thought you didn’t know enough about him to even be allowed to crush on him

it was a bit unprofessional but you were nearly 16, it’s normal to have these little crushes right?

eventually time came to rescue when tommy asked you if you wanted to accompany him in the dream smp

undoubtedly, you said yes

and for the few months during summer, it was where you two became even closer than before

however, once both of you two had to go back and attend school, it was harder to catch up with each other

even on calls together off stream, the occasional snapchat notification going off irked you in a way you couldn’t explain

only winter break was the small pause on your disappointment

but even then, it was a slow but steady hill of repressed sadness and frustration until early spring of the following year

you had hoped 2021 would be better than last year but after scrolling through twitter one day and seeing stans making rumors about how tommy had a crush on one of his classmates gave you the same pain you felt when school started last fall

you dreaded to look over at tommy’s most recent story time stream vod where all the gossip arose from; it was him stumbling over his words with the mention of a girl during a certain part

jealousy wasn’t the right word to describe the way you felt

you would never go out of your way to make tommy reciprocate the feelings you had for him

and if he liked someone else the way you saw him, you wouldn’t mind

having a crush is ecstatic, and if he has someone like that too, you should be happy

right?

you tried

what finally broke you was seeing a tiktok a few weeks later of tommy in college with eryn and another girl talking

you didn’t know how she looked like or anything but you wanted to sob

good for him

she didn’t even say much in the video and you dont know enough about tommy’s personal life to jump to conclusions like this

you knew you were acting irrational and you couldn’t be upset at tommy for something he couldn’t control

if anything, you never directly showed interest in him

you didn’t want to in the first place

it was a bad idea from the start

you looked back at the past year and all your intentions

what kind of sick fanfiction did you think you were living?

becoming a content creator, hoping to blow up, just to talk to a big youtuber you had a crush on?

oh my god

y/n what is wrong with you?

listen to yourself, y/n

you need to get some help

whether tommy was dating or even just had interest someone was none of your business

you had to move on no matter what it was and be good and supportive friend

it was dreadful to get over a stupid crush like this but after so much work you put in, you gave some sympathy for yourself

in a friend perspective, you were happy with whatever tommy did and was satisfied your friendship together, but you hadn’t realized how much you gambled from the beginning

and just for a crush?

you couldn’t comprehend how far you gone because you fancied someone

it wasn’t like anyone could get famous and become a popular content creator either

and now with you being on the dream smp along with a successful youtube channel at 16? you were grateful something pushed you enough to work this hard

but you’d never forget the fact everything that lead up to this point was a crush on no other than tommyinnit which first spurred from complete spite

“who’s the one better off now?” your thoughts mocked you from the complete irony

sigh

y/n, you maniac