#Despite how late I am with well -- everything
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tuesday again 5/21/2024
get a load of this cat
listening
one of my favorite bands, Joywave, dropped a new album last week! it is not my favorite album of theirs but so it goes. perhaps it needs more time to grow on me. Sleepytime Fantasy kicks off my favorite section of the album. video game enchanted ice cave dream sequence music.
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i must stay true to my own rules for this series (not a rec series, genuinely what i've been into the most this week) and the song that's been on loop all week is a genshin impact character's theme music (punchy wolf-coded ice cop who is the duke of the prison he. runs? administers? don't worry about it). unfortunately a bop. the character music lately has been a lot more modern and experimental than i expected? this one has a police siren drop
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reading
thank you mackintosh.
i really, really enjoyed Trouble And Her Friends by Melissa Scott (LAMBDA award winner 1995)! @delta-orionis and i frequently ask ourselves "what if neuromancer was good?" and this scratches that itch for me. it is often difficult for me to take neuromancer's protagonist henry seriously, but this book features a pair of extremely practical dykes. it opens on the passing of a new american law criminalizing big swathes of online activity, passed despite a presidential veto. description from amazon
Less than a hundred years from now, the forces of law and order crack down on the world of the computer nets. The hip, noir adventurers who get by on wit, bravado, and drugs, and haunt the virtual worlds of the Shadows of cyberspace, are up against the encroachments of civilization. It's time to adapt or die.
India Carless, alias Trouble, got out ahead of the feds and settled down to run a small network for an artist's co-op.
Now someone has taken her name and begun to use it for criminal hacking. So Trouble returns. Once the fastest gun on the electronic frontier, she had tried to retire-but has been called out for one last fight. And it's a killer.
this startled me by how fun and competent it is! i tried reading one of the author's books last year (Dreamships) and had a miserable time with the pacing and flow of information. there are echoes of the pacing issues i had with the last book-- this is a nearly four hundred page hardcover, we have a lot of Next Locations to go to, and we are going to take our fucking time getting there. a road trip book, rather than a destination book. Scott has gotten way way better at fleshing out those locations— an artists' co-op has their skylights set to amber to hide the wear and tear on everything in their central hangout space when the feds show up. i also connected with the inciting incident way more-- someone stealing a female hacker’s name and style is instantly relatable. i am riding shotgun with Trouble. i am ready to throw down with her.
it's a very physical book in many ways, bc it has three brief sex scenes, is very concerned with sensuality in both senses of the word, and overall it's like the background in an anime that’s full of dials and buttons and little blinky lights. written in 1994, fascjnating how much concepts of VR and sensory inputs have not changed, but everyone still has the equivalent of an enormous old school desktop and giant CRT monitors set up. everyone is constantly lugging around so much physical tech. the stuff that makes you better at hacking in the net is quick reactions to VR sensations, the only way to get that cutting edge sensation is to get a physical chip or “worm” in your head, and the only people who do that are the core outcasts and freaks of the internet (the gays, the women, the people of color, the all three, presumably the furries as well). from that day to this…
there's an interesting contrast between Trouble and her old partner Cerise stalking the virtual reality bazaars/being queens of the BBS undergrounds, and the danger they feel and face when moving about in the real world. some reviewers are very cranky about how negotiations on and offline feel the same but i did not feel this particular quibble. communication is communication. it is known both on and offline that they're 1) women and 2) lesbians. they're in less physical danger online but slurs can still happen no matter where they are. also, i am well used to the necessity of having to posture and peacock and be kind of a bitch to establish myself in order to get anything done in coding/hardware scenes, which is something i don't think any of the male reviewers of the day ever had to think about.
some cowboy shit goes down at the end that had me hooting and hollering, and Scott handled the hacking scenes in an interesting way-- a sort of abstracted duel? terrific "fight" scenes. very interesting at how she will move things around in order to treat scenes in ways she's good at-- like establishing very grounded locations that feel real, physical sensations, and fight scenes-- instead of just kind of slogging through a very surface level high-overview travelogue like in her last book. ive been stuck on a fic chapter for like four years and this is making me think about doing it the fun way instead of the way i thought it should be done. this may be obvious but i am an amateur and more importantly an idiot.
this was a $6/1 book special last year at one of my favorite thrift stores, a religious shop with the absolute worst vibes in the greater houston area but some of the best stuff
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watching
Five Dolls For An August Moon (1970, dir. Brava). sometimes you see a cool title on kanopy and you don't have a better way to kill an hour and a half. plus it had some guys i know from cowboys. tw for a suicide's body in the first fucking ten seconds of the trailer, which is a weird trailer choice bc u don't actually see most of the murders in the movie.
ive watched a fuck of a lot of spaghetti westerns so i feel i am somewhat qualified to tell you this is one of the worst dubs ive ever seen. the lines actors are quarter-heartedly delivering do not always make a lot of sense and only occasionally match the subtitles. i am assuming this is the original dub, bc kino lorber generally does a pretty okay job restoring things?
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this is not a good movie (extremely troubled production, director swap three days before filming, made on a shoestring budget, the actors mostly wore their own clothes, etc). it is not very good at maintaining tension, because it is a film that first and foremost Looks. beautiful fucking sets, beautifully decorated. the exterior is a matte painting, a sort of frothy dream-bubble of sixties architecture. most of the interiors are apparently a real house. incredible experimental burbling soundtrack full of Weird Sounds.
sorry about the tubi interface and our old friend the activate windows logo.
there are so many fun directorial flourishes and staging, but it does get a little wrapped up in itself. this made me think of The Secret of NIMH, a beautifully animated talking-animal film that gave me nightmares as a child, where the animation tricks and sparkles and moving parts sort of all get in each other's way to produce something less than the sum of its parts. this sort of happens here. i'm going to yoink this from a review:
Bava’s eye for exquisite compositions is equally evident. One scene in particular stands out in this regard: The filmmaker shoots an otherwise humdrum fistfight through wooden latticework that breaks the action up into an abstracted mosaic effect. The fight culminates with a table being upended, which in turn unleashes a myriad crystal spheres. The camera follows along as the spheres tumble and cascade down a spiral staircase and roll across a tiled floor before plopping like so many bath bubbles into a tub. The scene concludes with the revelation of a recently deceased character caught in what you’d have to call a tableau morte. It’s a dazzlingly orchestrated sequence, easily on par with more famous Bava set pieces.
it's gorgeous! there's also So Much going on. another lovely bit of business: as each person dies they get wrapped in plastic sheeting and put in the walkin freezer. next to slabs of beef. not a subtle film, and i don't mean it as a diss, bc where's the fuckin fun in that?
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playing
i have not been doing much of anything here except listen to podcasts and work toward the two-thousand-fish-caught achievement in genshin. impatiently waiting for Clorinde to be released in several weeks. that one button needs a raise. it is So funny to see genshin characters with fucking guns. very sword and pike based societies so far
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making
every time i have tried to make one of these samplers for Me it's gone horribly wrong or been somehow destroyed so i'm making this one for my brother's upcoming birthday, bc he will have off-campus housing next academic year, in an attempt to peacefully do some fucking cross stitch and get something out at the end of it. pattern here on etsy
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Raphael reacting to being given a surprise little peck on the cheek. Just a brief and sweet little thing and the kisser is already gone before he can really do anything.
I made it so Tav kissed Raphael on the lips instead, brief and sweet as you suggested; but still shocking to the Devil, hehe. Tav always seems to get Raphael's knickers in a twist.
Summary: Raphael is fuming after Tav shows absolutely zero decorum, kissing him in the middle of an important meeting between prospective clients. How will the Devil manage?
Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.
Only a Kiss
(Image via certifieddilfenjoyer)
The Devil gingerly sipped his wine, no longer cringing at its watered down consistency. Each taste allowed him to make a careful observation of the reception, a mere glance was all he needed to sense whether the evening was going in his favour. And it most certainly was, despite it feeling like he was stuck in an infinite loop of monotony.
Raphael stood in the dining hall of a soon-to-be forgotten Duchess. A group of Faerûn’s most politically influential women surrounded him, cramming into the room like fish in a barrel. These parties were all nonsense to Raphael, another trite characteristic of his role as the resident Devil.
The establishment was stuffy, not due to the growing crowd, but from the obvious lack of taste. Paintings decorated every inch of the walls, statues filled every corner, and none of the art seemed to co-exist. Each piece was random, gaudy, and only attempted to achieve one thing to any unlucky guest who was smart enough to see through the facade.
Wealth! Status! Luxury! A tawdry display and an overt cry for help.
Raphael pursed his lips. Was he the only one there who had even a sliver of self-respect? Who understood the complexities of art? But of course he was.
The evening was growing late and these mortals were on the verge of tipping over, their goblets overflowing with the very wine that coursed through their veins. Raphael was stuck entertaining them until they signed his contract. It didn't matter. He would consume their souls and move on; just a little longer and this next batch of cattle would be herded into their pens for slaughter.
Raphael opened his mouth as he prepared to continue the dragging exchange, but he was taken by a sudden gush of air. Within seconds, his mouth was locked with a stranger's in a delicate kiss. He blinked, a pair of striking blue eyes within inches of his own. Soft hands cradled his face. Cloves and roses. That smell. Those eyes. The sheer display of indecency. Tav.
The fleeting act stunned the Devil. Before he could speak, move, or incincinerate; Tav winked, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
“Lord Raphael! I didn’t realise…” One guest began.
The herd of women grew excited, sharing hushed whispers with each other. A few of them began giggling.
“Far from it, I’m afraid.” Raphael cleared his throat, adjusting his collar.
“Well, that kiss told me everything I needed to know.” Another woman continued. She raised her brows high, a suggestive glint growing brighter in her eyes. “Your reputation precedes you, my Lord. Perhaps we can look at adding something similar to our agreement?”
He was going to destroy Tav, remove them from existence once and for all. A thousand deadly thoughts ran through his mind at once, causing him to go into overdrive. The things he could do to them. Would do to them. He would make them beg for forgiveness, in every way imaginable, before he would even consider giving them the freedom of death.
“Of course I'm always open to discussing terms with prospective clients… but I am unfortunately unavailable.” Raphael responded.
The women groaned in disappointment, a few of them, the richest ones, dismissed Raphael almost instantly. As they began to break away from the group, he could feel the threads of his perfect plan unravelling. Chaos closed in, circling him, suffocating him.
“Do not fret, my dears. Please may I have one more moment of your time? I have something for you that I don’t offer to just anyone, guaranteed to exceed all expectations. You will find them a far more pleasant experience, I’m sure.”
This stopped the women from disbanding, in fact, it seemed to excite them more.
“Oh my Lord, forever a tease. Do tell us more!” One of them shouted.
Raphael’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the empty chalice. He could feel his internal temperature rising. The chalice began to bend from the heat, slowly drooping like a dying flower. He bit the side of his tongue, bowing respectfully.
“I operate under the shadow of discretion. If you will allow me, you’ll soon be able to have a little taste, and discover first hand what awaits you upon signature.”
As the women huddled closer to Raphael, devouring every word from his lips, he searched the room for the culprit. That vile, unhonorable creature. He spotted them at the far end of the room, chatting with an unfamiliar face.
He continued to glare at Tav, hoping his scathing gaze would pierce through their chest. The longer he stared at them, the more he hoped they’d feel his eyes on them, inviting them to glance in his direction.
When there was no response, Raphael set the tip of Tav’s outfit on fire with a flick of his wrist. He watched in pleasure as the flames slowly grew, nearly reaching their knees before they realised they were on fire.
Tav jumped back, quickly killing the flames with a spell. Their cheeks grew redder as they tried to laugh off the embarrassment. Tav rubbed the back of their neck, looking around the room until their eyes caught Raphael’s.
The Devil tilted his head in acknowledgment, a smile filled with scorn and amusement overtaking his lips.
Try something like that again, little mouse, his expression hoped to convey; and he’ll be sure to leave them with permanent scars next time.
Raphael soon discarded Tav from his mind, he wouldn’t waste anymore time thinking about that creature. He gathered the rest of his energy for the upcoming engagement at hand, the final one of the evening.
“Madams,” he began, turning back to the women. “This soirée has grown rather dull. Perhaps it’s time we move things somewhere more secluded as we close our deal? I think my House of Hope would suffice, no? Besides, there is someone there who is dying to make your acquaintance.”
#writing#bg3 raphael#raphael the cambion#baldurs gate 3 raphael#raphael bg3#raphael baldur's gate 3#bg3#fanfic#baldur's gate 3#bg3 fanfiction#raphael fanfic#raphael#raphael bg3 x reader#raphael x reader#raphael x tav#tav bg3#kiss the devil#oopsies#asks#prompts
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of our own making
(an X-Files fanfic)
Chapter 28/34 - cigarette smoke
[Read on AO3]
The scent of cigarette smoke wakes her, burning her nostrils with its offensive odor.
It reminds her of the days before—when he’d come in the night, speaking in hushed tones with her husband and effectively plotting the end of her life and happiness. The downfall of the family she’d worked so hard to hold together.
It had been a long time since family meant more to her than heartache and regret. She’s not about to let him take it away again. Not when she might have just gotten it back.
“Get out of my house,” she says, her voice coming out strong and commanding despite the late hour.
“Teena,” he intones, as if surprised to find her in her own home. “How nice to see you.”
She flicks the light on above him, depriving him of the precious darkness he likes to hide behind. He’s always been too theatrical for her taste. It used to intimidate her, even scare her. Not anymore.
She grips Bill’s old shotgun in her hands.
“Are you going to shoot me, Teena?” he says, squinting at her and chuckling a bit under his breath. It doesn’t look like she’ll need to, at this rate. He’s already run himself halfway into the ground without her help.
A pity.
She adjusts her hold on the weapon anyway. It’s loaded, of course. She isn’t a fool.
“What do you want, Spender?” she asks impatiently. “There’s nothing more for you here.”
“Is there not?” he asks coolly, leaning toward the coffee table where he has set out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “I thought you might like to celebrate. I heard the good news, of course.”
The hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. Of course he’d heard. He has eyes and ears everywhere. She’d given up long ago trying to keep things from him. It never ended well.
“You stay away from my son and his family,” she spits, raising the barrel of the gun toward him. He doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Don’t you mean our son, Teena?” he asks, smirking up at her. “I think that makes them my family too, if I’m not mistaken.”
She reels back in disgust. “You don’t know the meaning of the word,” she says accusingly. “And you are not his father.”
The smoking man chuckles heartily again, taking a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “Oh, I assure you, I am. I’ve had Fox’s DNA tested on several occasions. The results are quite conclusive.”
“I don’t care what your results say,” she says, a fire burning in her eyes. “DNA doesn’t mean one thing when it comes to family.”
Spender purses his lips, but otherwise doesn’t respond. He knows there’s nothing he can say to that.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he says after a tense silence. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t be convinced. I don’t need to be his father to leave an impression on him, do I?”
He gets to his feet, approaching her one step at a time, unbothered by the weapon she holds.
She holds her ground.
“I can be very persuasive, if you’ll recall,” he says, reaching up to touch a stray tuft of hair on her head.
Enough.
“You relinquished any hold you may have had on him the day you entrusted him to Agent Scully,” she spits, jabbing the mouth of the gun into his side and pushing him back a few inches. “Now, you can either heed my warning, or face the consequences.”
He tilts his head curiously, the ever-present smirk on his face unwavering.
“Is that so? And what might those be?”
He has no idea, does he, how much damage she could do. Decades of righteous anger stored up inside her, a front row seat to some of the most horrific and evil acts of mankind…
“Do you forget that I was there, Spender?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I was there from the beginning. I’ve heard it all—seen everything. Can you really risk letting what I know get out?”
“You seem to think I can’t kill you where you stand,” he says, leveling her with a menacing stare, dropping his earlier unaffected demeanor. “If sleeping pills are your method of choice, that can easily be arranged.”
She scoffs at him.
“You won’t kill me,” she says confidently. “And I will not be intimidated by you.”
For all the times she stayed silent, for all the fear that once controlled her—this is her redemption.
C.G.B. Spender is a stain on humanity, and she will not allow him to meddle in her life any longer.
“There are two ways this can end,” she states, her voice low and serious. “Either you disappear, and never come near my family again—or I watch you bleed out all over my grandmother’s rug. Your choice.”
He lifts his cigarette to his lips. As he exhales, a cloud of smoke envelops her face, but she does not waver.
“I’ll go,” he says evenly. “No need to desecrate such a lovely antique.”
That’s the thing she had never noticed as a younger woman: that this man is nothing but a coward. Everything he does, every action he takes, is to save his own skin and nothing more. Only her son was bold enough to stand up to him. He had shown her the cracks in Spender’s armor.
“You’ll stay away from Fox and Dana,” she states, watching as he turns to leave.
He glances back at her.
“Your threat holds no real power over me,” he says offhandedly, notably not agreeing to her terms. Bending down over the coffee table, he picks up the glass of whiskey he’d poured for himself and takes a sip. “Anything you might reveal of my business would be dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman. And you’re right, I don’t want to kill you. But I will, if you force my hand. Nothing will be revealed that I do not wish to be revealed.”
“Ha,” Teena laughs humorlessly. He thinks so highly of himself, like he’s some kind of all-knowing god, controlling the events of this world like some grandiose puppetmaster.
She’s seen behind the curtain, though, and she knows better. She’s learned how to play his game.
“If you think my death would stop the truth from coming out, you’re more of a fool than I thought,” she says. “How long have I known you, Spender, that I wouldn’t have put in failsafes in the event of my death?”
Oh, is that a flicker of fear, she detects?
“I’ve had the better part of three decades to plan for your downfall,” she continues. “I do not fear death as you do.”
His lips remain tightly closed, his whiskey forgotten.
She leans in close, meeting his cold, unfeeling eyes head on.
“And that is why you will always fail.”
There’s a kind of delirious satisfaction in watching him go. It’s a waste of oxygen, she thinks, that he continues to live, but she will not stoop to his level. Not unless absolutely necessary.
He slinks back into the shadows from whence he came, and she prays that’s the last she will ever see or hear from him again. She’s prepared to follow through with her threats, if it’s not.
The shotgun goes back to its rightful place under her bed, with all her husband’s old things. He had been a good man, before he got swept up in Spender’s world. She tries, now, to remember that side of him, and not the one that came later. Enough of her life has been spent being angry, and she’s tired of it. She’s tired of the sadness and the bitterness.
It’s time for her to move past all that.
She lays back in her bed, the one that had almost been her deathbed, and breathes in deeply. Once upon a time, she had needed copious amounts of sleeping pills just to get through the night. The horrors that awaited her when she closed her eyes were unbearable, so traumatizing that she’d even experience nightmarish hallucinations.
But now?
Well, for the first time in years, Teena Mulder has a peaceful night’s sleep.
~~~
I can't make you go a day without Mulder and Scully in the update...
He knows he should be sleeping. Scully is snoozing away on the bed, and has been for quite some time now. Then again, once her head hits a pillow, he knows she’s hard-pressed to stay awake for even five minutes.
Chapter 29/34 - rocking chair
Him, however…
He sits up on the ugly upholstered couch, stretching his neck in a futile attempt to straighten out the kinks.
He’s a father.
The thought is almost beyond comprehension. If he’d actually been asleep, he might have thought it had all been a dream. But, no. He’s sitting in a hospital room a mere ten feet away from Scully, and they’re parents.
It feels both sudden, and like it was years in the making.
Casting a quick glance over to his sleeping partner, he rises to his feet and tiptoes to the doorway, pulling the door open as quietly as possible. The brightness of the fluorescent lights in the hallway causes him to squint momentarily until his eyes can adjust. A sign comes into focus in front of him on the wall, pointing him in the direction he wants to go.
A few hours ago, the nurses came by to check on the three of them, ensuring that they had everything they needed for the night. They’d offered to take the baby to the nursery so that the new parents could rest, and though it was tough to see that little cherubic face go, he and Scully both knew that their nights of getting a somewhat acceptable amount of sleep were numbered. They eventually agreed, and like magic, Scully had slipped into her silk pajamas and under the paper-thin hospital sheets before he even knew what happened.
Now, though, he figures he might as well do something useful with his insomnia-induced awake time, so he heads down the hall until he comes to a large glass window. Behind it, the lights are dimmed, but bright enough that he can see the seven or eight babies sleeping peacefully in individual plastic bassinets.
His cheeks twitch with the beginnings of a smile as he takes in the gentle rise and fall of their little bellies, their first soft breaths of this new life.
Each one has a name tacked onto the plastic bin of the bassinet, proudly announcing the date and time each was born. His eyes roam over every one until he spots her. His little girl.
Madeline Samantha Mulder
May 2, 2000
10:13 a.m.
6 lb. 4 oz. / 18 ¾ in.
Though he’s already had the better part of a day to get to know her, the sight of her still knocks the breath out of his lungs.
Almost as if she senses she is being watched, she begins to fuss, the hat that was keeping her head warm beginning to fall off. He can see wetness building around her eyes, tears leaking out and drying on her rosy cheeks.
Mulder puts his hand on the glass, wishing there was something he could do.
Thankfully, a nurse comes bustling in, bunching the little pink stocking cap back onto her head and whispering soothing words that he can’t hear.
He taps softly against the glass, not loud enough to disturb the other sleeping infants, but sufficient to get the attention of the nurse. After adjusting the baby’s blankets, she looks up, offering Mulder a small smile.
“Can I see her?” he mouths, pointing at his daughter. He raises his wrist and points to the hospital band that declares him the baby’s father, and the woman’s smile widens. After double-checking that Madeline is back asleep, the nurse comes around to the hallway, clipboard in hand.
“Already on that new parent sleep schedule, I see,” she jokes, eyes scanning down a list of names.
Mulder chuckles. “Been practicing for years,” he says.
“Can I see your band?” she asks, and he presents it to her. She checks the ID number on it against the information on her documentation, and nods. “You wanna take her back to your room?”
He hesitates. “Uh, my… wife’s still sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.”
He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to calling her that…
“Not a problem, Mr. Mulder. We’ve got a room back here you can use, if you like.”
“That would be great.”
The nurse leads him back to a side room at the back of the nursery equipped with a few chairs and all the necessary supplies.
“Let me go get your little girl,” she says, before disappearing through the doorway. She’s back moments later, the baby now blinking awake in her arms.
Mulder mentally kicks himself.
“I shouldn’t have had you disturb her, she needs her sleep,” he says, a tinge of regret causing his shoulders to slump as she rests little Madeline in the cradle of his arms. Parent rule #1, if your baby is sleeping (by some miracle), don’t even breathe in the wrong direction. Just count your blessings.
He’s already messing it up.
His self-chastisement is cut short by the warm chuckle of the night nurse. “She’ll go right back to sleep, don’t you worry. She’s all tuckered out from her busy day!” she assures him.
Mulder relaxes, smiling a grateful smile up at her.
“Let me know when you’re heading back to your room,” she says, taking her leave.
Once she’s gone, Mulder’s attention falls to the wide-eyed little creature staring up at him. Her eyes are baby blue, a different shade than Scully’s, but he’s probably the only person on the planet that could tell you so. The flutter of her eyelashes mesmerizes him.
“Hi,” he breathes, tears involuntarily pooling in his eyes for what must be the millionth time that day. Maddie wriggles in her tightly swaddled blankets, and Mulder tugs on them to make sure they don’t fall loose.
After some effort, one tiny little arm escapes its confines despite his attempt at stopping it. He shakes his head with a breath of laughter, reaching out with his free hand to let her wrap his finger in her miniscule fist. With his thumb, he begins tracing soft circles on her warm, baby soft skin.
Has he ever held a hand so small? Five perfect, pudgy fingers on each hand. The tiniest fingernails he’s ever seen. That cute button nose and chubby cheeks. Rosebud lips and a chin that he’s noticed juts out just a little when she’s about to cry.
She’s perfect, his Madeline. And he vows to protect her from all the harm in this world.
“Sorry for waking you up, baby girl,” he whispers, lifting her fist to his lips and placing a kiss there. “Don’t tell mommy.”
Her wide eyes stare up at him, trusting and content.
“Come here,” he says, and he shifts her so she’s upright, then transfers her to his chest. The second her cheek—still sticky from tears—falls against his chest, her eyes flutter shut. He can feel her every breath, laying like this. From the rise and fall of her chest to the almost imperceptible exhales of air from her nose, there is a living breathing person relying on him now.
What had he ever done to deserve this?
He rubs her back, patting lightly at a steady rhythm that he hopes is comforting and relaxing. The repetitive motion plus the rocking chair ought to be enough to put any person to sleep—even himself.
Her fist curls against the neckline of his worn, gray t-shirt, fastening it in her iron grip. He lets his cheek fall against her head and breathes in deeply. This is a moment he wants to remember for the rest of his life.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against her head before he pulls back.
He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. He thinks he can hear a clock ticking somewhere in the hallway, and a door somewhere in the distance snicks shut.
He lowers his voice even further, speaking so only his baby can hear.
“I’m in love with your mommy.”
The words are barely audible, but they’re the truth. And a truth spoken softly is better than nothing.
“What do you think of that, huh?”
On his shoulder, Madeline’s face has gone slack, a little bubble peeking out between her lips with each even breath she takes. She’s fast asleep, and in hardly any time at all.
He prays the pattern will continue when they get home.
For a good half hour, he stays planted in that chair, humming softly to every song he can think of that might qualify as a lullaby. Eventually though, after two rounds of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis, his own eyes begin to droop shut.
He’s loath to part with her, but the nurse stops by again asking if he’d like her to take the baby back to her bassinet, and he agrees. Before long, he’s back in the hall, the phantom weight of Madeline on his shoulder as he carefully opens the door to suite 509.
“Mulder?” he hears her voice, raspy and disoriented. The sliver of light from the hall illuminates her face, and she blocks it out with a raised hand, squinting adorably. “Why are you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, making his way back to the couch.
“Were you trying to sleep on that thing?” she asks, looking at the couch in disdain. He wants to laugh at the messiness of her hair sticking up every which way, but instead he feels his heart clench at the sight of her.
I love you, he thinks.
“Mulder…”
He realizes he hasn’t answered her question, so he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Might be a little short, but not bad,” he says.
The furrow of Scully’s eyebrows is visible even just by the light of the moon streaming through the horizontal window blinds.
“I sat there earlier. It’s terrible,” she says, confusion lacing her features.
Mulder shrugs, not sure what else to say.
She purses her lips, the expression on her face one he recognizes to be her puzzle-solving face. He’s seen it plenty of times at crime scenes, but he doesn’t have a clue what it may mean in this context.
“Come over here,” she says.
He looks up, his eyes meeting hers.
She’s serious.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stands from the couch, approaching Scully cautiously lest she change her mind.
But instead of changing her mind, she shuffles backward, making space on the not quite queen-sized bed for Mulder to lay down.
“How is she?” Scully asks knowingly as the bed dips below his weight.
He toes his shoes off, swinging his legs up on the bed and tucking them beneath the covers.
“She’s perfect, Scully.”
She smiles. Her hand reaches out as he’s settling into the mattress, and catches his hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and he hopes she can’t feel his heart hammering in his chest.
This somehow feels different than the other times they’ve shared a bed. Unlike those times, there’s no great need for comfort and security, and no cow has flown through the roof of the building.
It’s just two parents trying to catch some shut-eye. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Thanks for being here, Mulder,” Scully mumbles sleepily, her eyes having fallen shut once again. “Thanks for being her dad.”
He squeezes her hand once in acknowledgement. There are too many words he wishes he could say, gratitude he wants to express for allowing him to do this with her, to be a part of it. For giving Maddie his last name. For honoring his sister. He doesn’t even know where to begin, but now isn’t the time anyway. He is rendered functionally mute.
The air conditioner hums in the silence that settles, and he counts the seconds, sure that she must have gone back to sleep.
Just as he begins to feel himself drifting off, he hears her again.
It’s almost inaudible. Spoken like a secret into the night, an accidental admission that wasn’t meant for his ears. Part of him isn’t sure it’s her he hears at all, merely a wishful auditory hallucination experienced on the cusp of a dream.
“I love you.”
And, even if it’s not real, he thinks he hears himself utter back, “I love you too.”
~~~
Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]
@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear
#msr#txf#x files#xf fanfic#mulder and scully#my fanfiction#fox mulder#dana scully#of our own making#ooom#msr adoption fic#adoption
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IK I HAVENT DRAWN IN FOREVER BTW IM WORKING ON CATCHING UP
#ITS JUST. BEEN SHIT TO GET MOTIVATED LATELY#ESPECIALLY WHEN IK NONE OF U CARE#LIKE WHY AM I BOTHERING POSTING THIS??? NO ONE GIVES A SHIT??? NO ONE LOOKS AT MY ART FOR MORE THAN A SECOND NO ONE CARES#WHEN THEY DO CARE ITS ONLY BC ITS A GIFT FOR THEM OR I SENT IT TO EM N THEY DONT WANNA BE RUDE#LIKE WHY FUCKIN BOTHER LATELY YA KNOW. LIFE IS JUST GETTING WORSE AND ANYTHING I COULD DO WITH THESE SKILLS I LOVE SO MUCH IS GOING#WELL UP IN FLAMES IF YOU DONT MIND THE WORDPLAY#N IK IT EATS YOU ALIVE TO CARE ABOUT WHO SEES YOUR WORK. IK ITS BAD N I SHOULDN'T DO IT.#BUT IF NOT EVEN ANY IF MY FRIENDS(BARRING MY BF XOXO LOVE U PYXE BUT LIKE I DO SEND U EVERYTHING STILL LOL) CAN EVEN BOTHER#JJST. EVEN LOOKING AT MY STUFF#WHATS THE POINT??#THE ONLY ART OF MINE THATS GOTTEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF ATTENTION LATELY HAS BEEN THE ISAT AU N THATS BC THATS A COMMUNITY STARVING FOR STUF#LIKE HOW MANY NOTES MY WANDERSONG STUFF GOT DESPITE BEING SO BAD#BUT IVE IMPROVED SO MUCH AND POURED SM INTO A COMMUNITY THAT DOESNT FUCKING GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ME?????#WHAT AM I DOING WRONG??!?!!?! SOMEONE TELL ME ID DO ANYTHING JUST TO KNOW WHY I CANT GET ANYONE EVEN THE PERSON WHO LOVES ME THE MOST#TO GIVE A SHIT JSUT ONCE#ill prolly delete this later. Im sry.
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hi Aidoneus!!
How are you as of recently?? Anything good you would like to share? A rose and a thorn maybe ? I’d love to hear!
Hello there, I am alright for the most part, just tired. A rose would be nearly being finished with all my midterms and papers, and a thorn would be being in the middle of a love triangle and my darling being in a bad situationship. But how are you? Well, I hope?
#your yandere#aidoneus asks#I am more concerned about the latter: she has been distant as of late and refuses to leave despite saying he is verbally abusive#She sounded so small when mentioning how his ill treatment of her probably was justified#It’s not- it never is#I said I'd kill him but she told me not to and that she still cares for the fucker when things are going well#I cannot help her if she doesn’t want it and I can’t force her to leave even though I wish I could#I don’t need her to care about me#Despite that I still would do anything and everything to take care of her if permitted#I just want to make sure she is okay
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What are your favorite old/oldish movies that you’ve watched recently
the thin man (1934) - a former detective, happily retired and living on his wife's fortune, is begrudgingly dragged into investigating the disappearance of an inventor (the first of a series of thin man films, this i think is the best written/most engaging, though i came out of it with such an acute affection for the main characters--nick and nora charles--that i've since poured through the rest of the movies)
double wedding (1937) - an eccentric, out of work director who has befriended an aspiring actress and her meek fiancé finds himself in the middle of their family affairs when he comes toe-to-toe with her controlling sister, who he finds strangely interesting... hijinks ensue. (of all the movies i've seen recently, this might be my favorite. the characters are piquant and endlessly endearing)
libeled lady (1936) - a major newspaper editor is responsible for the publication of a false story on wealthy socialite connie allenbury. enlisting the help of his fiancée and a "libel-man", the editor hopes to quell the oncoming lawsuit and frame allenbury to make the story stick, but (naturally) things don't quite go as planned.
top hat (1935) - model dale tremont mistakes dancer jerry travers (who she initially likes) for the husband of a friend. as travers pursues tremont, he finds her continually put off by his attempts to get close to her, much to his confusion. (in my opinion--the best ginger rogers/fred astaire collaboration that i've seen thus far, with my favorite music/routines/story/characters)
#the first three are myrna loy/william powell pictures because i am... minorly obsessed with them as i'm going through the process of#watching their films together. they were absolutely magnificent in every way but these three really stand apart for me#and the last one is just... a miracle. the dances are beautiful. all the music is beautiful.#'the orchestra is beautiful!'#asks#also i'm sorry to only really be recommending screwball comedies it's... almost exclusively what i've been watching lately#still these have fantastically clever dialogue and i love how the characters are raised up#so despite the fact that comedies are usually thought of as being less than dramas/historical pictures/what have you#i think these are really magnificent :)!#anyhow some more serious ones that i also thought were very well done if you're not into comedies so much:#fear (1954)#crisis (1950)#the valley of decision (1945) though this one is a little slow/laborious#OH MY GOD#and it's not very recent but indiscreet (1958) was a delight. my favorite actors. a fantastic story. beautifully framed scenes.#that one is a wonderful picture in and of itself. a whole thing apart from everything else on this list
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Another reason why I haven't been here in a bit, is because I once again lost my icons thanks to something corrupting, just didn't post about it, because I did not wanna deal with that.
I thankfully backed up my files on my desktop, but its an old folder which means I'm missing several new icons despite having the already finished ones. So slowness will be expected because for some threads, I will have to reborder some icons before replying.
Anyway, I'll be here on Leon for a bit, needless to say, those other valentines things for that call are closed now because I'm too far behind (yet again >_>)
So I'm very sorry about that, to be honest though, I was kind of running out of gift idea's anyway so if I did do them, I would more than likely be unhappy with them, and I value quality over most things in my replies.
Regardless, I'm gonna put a lot of work into my replies since its been a while. Tackling super old threads first before I move onto more recent-ish threads. I try to make up for my constancy issues by putting everything I got into most threads and thats the plan today
#Hᴇʏ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ?-- ( OOC)#Gᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs sʜɪᴛ (Tᴏ Bᴇ Dᴇʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ)#The struggles of being a multi-para/novella writer#As Leon said it best: Story of my life#But we gonna keep coming back#Despite how late I am with well -- everything#Finally updating my google doc too bc its LONG overdue lol
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i remember again n feel better hehe 🥹🤍
#🌙.rambles#thought i'd just ramble abt this to my notes but maybe a fellow wanderer wld come across this#i mean. aside from a few irls that could very much stumble across this.. i get shy n embarrassed at the though of it but OH WELL HDKGJSKDS#majority here r basically friends acquaintances n strangers that essentially don't know. like my real name or address or wtvr.#basically we don't know each other irl directly so it's somehow for some reason much easier for me to be open about how i feel in tumblr ta#s bcs 1) i write VERY long. very unlikely that someone wld read it unless they seeked it out for some reason that only they'd know#my brain's empty rn it's a bit of a mess but i feel better than just pure emptiness bcs i remember how#genuinely when it comes to other ppl.. despite how they may feel about their own selves. disappointed hatred wtvr#that. regardless of that i know that my own truth for them would be that i'll love them the same#let's say if i don't reach a certain standard for my own grades. say i usually get grades that r 90-100 often around the higher end too#but for one course i get vey slightly below the 90 mark. i'd feel like such a failure i'd feel like such a disappointment#so much so that i genuinely can't accept how others aren't disappointment in me despite how much of a failure i feel i am#turn the tables however; how do i react for others? even if. theoretically let's say they outright fail#i wouldn't think of them as anything less. it doesn't change anything bcs i genuinely love and care for the other wholly from the heart#they're my equal. they're my friend. yeah.. i rmb times in the past where i wld nearly break down from being around the passing score for#only 1 exam. i'd have friends that failed though. & i also forgot of how for other exams i basically got perfect or wtvr#it's so easy to just blind ourselves n focus on failure n forget. things that r most important#i deal with failure.. very badly honestly bcs i achieved very well as a kid. aside from stuff in filipino which uh. yeah trauma but um#maths n sciences n english or wtvr n nearly everything else i'd get easy perfects but i'd forget them over one disappointment#i struggled w that lately w my released grades n it still hurts the regret really hurts so much n i hate myself so much for it but#i'm.. trying to be kind n i've managed to feel like myself for a while today. progress. thats enough to be proud of#bcs yk knowing how others feel of their own selves n the way i treat them despite it. i cld at least try again to do the same for myself#say 10 years from now i'd be more thankful n happy if i forgave myself for it than destroyed myself in pursuit of doing better#more than. success in terms of grades i'd much rather grow n develop as a person#that said recently i've had so much anxiety w reaching out to ppl n i reply slowly but i'm trying to do better#bcs yesterday i rmb feeling so low that i really wanted to reach out to someone.. that's a whole nother lvl of pain for me bcs that means#my hopelessness reached a level enough that i knew i really needed comfort n support or i'll break#indirectly. helping you made me realize n remember myself. n i felt well enough to reach out once more.. i'm too shy to say directly but#thank you very much for that. it means more to me than you'll ever know
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man. time sure does fly huh.
#балаболим#i'm scheduling this post for morning cause of post limit. also because i don't want attention atm#...odd realising that it's gonna be my bday again soon. mad world. all bdays seem fake as of late. especially mine.#dunno.#maybe i'm still a bit detached from everything because of stupid reasons (<- thought that had cancer. does not. learned today)#(i was terrified of that for a month and all for nothing. it did kinda put some things in an interesting perspective though)#(like how truly little control i have over life. so. maybe i should do some things more often? why not be annoying? when else?)#wanted to write that i might not tell you the date but i know damn well that i scheduled some posts a year ago with one game day)#lol)#hm. i could swear it was just midnight and now it's 1am. time flies. i don't know what i want to convey with this post. some feeling ig#don't think it matters much.#i guess what i should say is that i'm alright. my health turned out to be at least moderate (no cancer yet) today#and despite a rather. vapid mood as of late. i am alright.#i hope you are as well.
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oh no what do i do. !!!!!
#said i was fine to call today but the messages theyve been sending have been so negative amd pessimistic and i fear that if we called they#would just be complaining the whole time and i hate the fake sympathy i have to show just bc theyre ALWAYS like this idk???? ugh i feel like#such a terrible friend but that is just not what i need to surround myself w all the time rn#sure you can have your moments where you confide in me about things that have been bothering you but when thats ALL that you do and you cant#even hold a normal conversation i just#like what do you want me to do!!!!!#i cant fix anything for you!!!!#just UGH#and ive been ignoring their messages which i KNOW is a shitty thing to do but i do not need this rn when i have been feeling so shit lately#as well and i dont know how to tell them that because of the person they are!! theyll take it as me being distant instead of me setting a#fucking boundary!!#and i DO feel bad for them w the situation but they need to learn and grow a bit like we all have!!!!!#learn to love life a little ya know!!! despite everything#there are hard things you need just to do sometimes and theres nothing you can do about it!!! youve j gotta change your attitude and mindset#and sure its hard!!!! i fucking know it's hard! it still is sometimes!!!!!!#i am getting so far off topic i just dont really wanna call if theyre gonna be sulky the whole time and i dont know how to get out of it bc#oauahahavshshogogoguahah!#theyre gonna take it personally!!#FUCK anyways.
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i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.
what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.
life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.
we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.
recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.
business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.
it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.
but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.
this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.
bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.
but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.
#spilled ink#warm up#writeblr#i have a good job please shut the fuck up before telling me to get a better job#girl i have vision and dental.#if u blame the victim that's wild. do u know about economic systems
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ 4:08 AM — GOJO SATORU.
contents. fluff, established relationships, sleepy n cuddly toru :(, just needed to write this to cope with the 236 manga leaks i guess. i just love him tons sobs i need him happy and loved and peaceful
“hey,” you poke satoru’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble under your cheek, “toru?”
“hmm?” oh. he sounds a little tired—maybe you should let him sleep.
“you awake?” you ask anyway.
“am now,” he mumbles—well, he’s already awake, so you might as well indulge in it now. “need somethin’, sweetheart?”
“jus’ missed you is all,” you pout—that makes him grin despite the way he yawns, all wide and smooth even as he fights the sleep in his eyes. you feel just a bit guilty, reaching to cup his cheek and running a thumb over his eyelid carefully.
“yeah?” he chuckles quietly, “‘m right here. you still miss me?”
“yeah,” you whisper, “always miss you. even when you’re right here.”
satoru’s grinning into your cheek as he leans down and presses a wet kiss to the skin—he can’t possibly be mad that you’ve woken him so late. he can’t be mad when it’s you, and it’s him, and it’s each other.
sleep can wait, there’s always time for that later. but there’s never a moment where he wants to risk counting on later when it comes to you.
“what’d you miss about me?” he hums, nibbling on your earlobe as his head buries into your neck. you shift, letting his body tuck against yours as your arms wrap around him—he feels safe like this, somehow. infinity doesn’t make him feel nearly as secure as the way your arms do, tight and warm and made just for holding him.
“dunno,” you murmur, “everything.”
“love me that much?” he asks cheekily, “me sleeping right beside you isn’t enough?”
“no,” you huff, “you can’t pay attention to me in your sleep.”
“my needy baby,” he snickers, rubbing circles into the small of your back with his large palm. he’s warm against you—you can feel the rhythm of his heart as it beats against your body. he’s pressed so close to you, that not even air can slip through the cracks.
truthfully, you don’t know why you wake satoru. you don’t know why you can’t sleep—you just know that you need him. here. now. always. forever. more and more and more and even more.
“toru?” you ask quietly, making him hum as his eyes droop back shut slowly—he must really be tired.
you stare at him fondly, stroking his hair as he sighs happily at the feeling. and then you press a kiss to his forehead, to his cheek, to the corner of his eyes where they crinkle when he smiles, and to those lips of his that always find yours no matter how long it takes.
he always comes back to you. always. he never won’t—that much you trust.
“got somethin’ on your mind, baby?” he asks slowly, voice thick with sleep. you giggle, scratching at his scalp as he smiles lightly.
he dozing off—you watch him, hopelessly endeared.
“i love you,” you whisper, “need you to know that. love you so, so much. kay?”
he cracks an eye open—stares at you like you’re the reason his heart ever started beating, like you’re the only one that could ever command it to stop. every inch of his face is laced with love so gentle, you can see the way it makes his skin glow.
you love him. you’re sure he loves you. that’s all you need to know it’ll be fine. everything else is an afterthought—just as long as you have satoru.
“woke me just to confess your love for me?” he gasps, “you’re down bad. real, real bad. i must be a super handsome, totally awesome boyfriend. i do try,” he says cheekily.
you giggle, rolling your eyes as you pinch his cheek.
“be humble, you jerk,” you say exasperatedly.
it sounds more like you’re in love. too much fondness slipping into your voice that it might make your teeth hurt from how sweet. satoru’s always had a sweet tooth, though—he accepts your love graciously, like it’s never too much.
if fact, it might just not be enough. he needs more, more, more.
“can’t,” he says slowly, yawning again, “you waking me up just to love me is a bit ego boosting.”
“this was a mistake,” you scoff—its playful, it’s fond. it sounds like deeply falling headfirst.
“aw c’mon,” he pouts—and then he’s brushing his lips against your neck a he clings closer to you, curling into your body with his six-foot-something stature as you pull the blanket tighter around him, “love you too. what was it you said again? oh, right—so, so much.”
“good,” you hum, nodding in satisfaction. “you better.”
“i do,” he chuckles, “can i sleep now? or are we gonna start talking about all the things we love about each other? cause i can stay up to listen to that, of course.”
“go to sleep, you idiot,” you scoff.
he grins. you press one last kiss to his forehead as you count the soft breaths he takes while he falls back asleep.
you love him—it’s all you ever want to do.
i cried while writing this and i cried thinking about the leaks and i cried while reading the leaks and i cried and cried and i’m tired of crying. gege when i catch you gege 🔫
#teepods.writings#drabbles.#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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can we possibly get the one where Gideon doesn’t like bombshell reader and poor Spencer is watching like☹️
Spencer feels a little like a child of divorce. Like, he absolutely is a child of divorce, but he didn’t think he’d feel this way at work. Lately, all Hotch and Gideon do is argue.
It’s especially odd in that Hotch doesn’t usually go against Gideon’s judgement, even when he doesn’t agree, but you seem to be something Hotch is willing to fight for, and Spencer has no idea why.
“We don’t need her,” Gideon says. Spencer knows it isn’t Gideon being cruel, just stern. “We have a fine team without her.”
“But with her, we’re better. And we have an opening. I know you like Greenaway for it, and I do too–”
“Everyone likes Greenaway for the position, she’s more palatable than L/N, and she works harder.”
Spencer tries not to whip his face back and forth like he’s following a ping pong ball, but it’s hard to keep up. He has no idea what his mentor’s talking about in all honesty, you’d seemed more than palatable when you met him last week. You were nice. And barely anybody is nice to Spencer.
You sounded like you actually wanted to hear him talk, something Gideon has often been alone in. And palatable is a subjective word.
“That’s not necessarily true,” Hotch says, knowing he’s losing.
“We’re not gonna rush into picking someone,” Gideon says, less stern, more neutral.
“No. I have invited her to the Georgia consultation this afternoon.”
Gideon sighs through his nose. The afternoon rolls around quickly. Spencer doesn’t want to think about it but he’s excited to see you, and he feels conflicted in that; Gideon is the first person in a long time who actually seems to care about him, so Spencer is guilty of always aiming to please, but he can’t understand why Gideon dislikes you so much. Am I being easily led? he wonders.
He’ll admit to finding you attractive. In his head, that is. You’d spoken so particularly, you’d looked stunning, and you didn’t make a fuss when he wouldn’t shake your hand. You called him beautiful.
It’s the nicest, kindest attention he’s had since he started. Morgan calls him pretty boy. Spencer knows it’s not the same thing.
They gather in the conference room, Morgan, Hotch, Gideon and Spencer, just a few minutes before 2PM. A minute later, you’re knocking on the door.
“Hello…” You smile when you realise they’re here. “Am I late?”
“No, L/N. Come and take a seat,” Hotch says.
There’s a plastering of documents on the table and an empty seat by both Morgan and Spencer. You choose the one beside Spencer despite a stack of manilla folders, tucking your chair in neatly. “Oh, the grizzly stuff. This will upset my feminine energy.”
Morgan laughs. Gideon glares at the table.
Spencer likes it when you’re around. One more person and suddenly the consultation is a conversation and not a debate. You can keep up with everyone. You laugh at Spencer occasionally and he doesn’t know why, but he can tell it isn’t cruel laughter; he’s had a long time to work out the difference.
Gideon excuses himself for a coffee half an hour in.
Hotch immediately leans across the table. “I’m trying to help you,” he says.
You grimace. “What am I doing wrong now?”
“The laughing.”
“You laugh.”
“I know.” Hotch smiles at you. “You’re getting good at this, you have good insight on the dark triad. You read the book I sent?”
“How’s Haley?” you ask.
He shakes his head, but his smile stays. “Don’t joke about that.”
You’re not flirting. Or, Spencer doesn’t think so. It’s more likely you’re joking as Hotch says, everything about your body language pointing to amicable friendliness besides your flirting tones. “I read the book,” you say. Your gaze turns to Spencer. “Bet you’ve read it too, huh? Morgan said you’ve read every book ever written.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Spencer says.
“But close?” you ask. “I’d love some recommendations. You know. For profiling.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Reid, she’s well read,” Morgan says.
“Wait, Gideon doesn’t like you because you laugh?” Spencer asks.
It’s a socially inept thing to say, he realises after. You lean back in your chair all sweet and soft with your legs crossed, your dark stockings thin at the knees. He’s so, so worried you’re going to be offended and that’s exactly what he needs, a possible friend isolated again by his inability to read the room, but you don’t chew him out. You nudge his leg gently with the toe of your heel.
“Now who said he doesn’t like me, handsome?” you ask teasingly.
Spencer regrets the heat that floods his face and neck.
“It’s complicated,” you add, your smile more than friendly, Spencer can’t work it out. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn him around eventually. It’s one of my many talents.”
Oh, he thinks. That’s what it is. Spencer’s finally in on the joke.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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I like the way you kiss me| Spencer Reid
A/N: So, I haven’t written smut in a good while, but I hope this okay. It’s defo romantic, but I promise soon there will be some good angst.
Summary: Spencer is nervous about being in a relationship with you, because of what his friends would think and the age gap you two had. But when it comes down to it, all that matters to him, is you.
Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Fem!reader. Use of nicknames (just princess). oral(R!receiving). PinV.
Masterlist| request are open| navigation
Spencer Reid knew dating you was playing with fire. You were younger, and you had never been in a serious relationship. Spencer knew if his friends found out about the two of you, he would never hear the end of it. But when he was with you, he didn’t care, all he could think about was you.
He couldn't resist the way your eyes lit up when you talked about anything you loved, or how your pupils dilated when you were looking at him, or how you laughed when he told any joke. He was infatuated with you, although he knew he should never have got attached to you.
But despite the risks, Spencer couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you. As he watched you across the table, he couldn't help but smile at the way you crinkled your nose when you were deep in thought. Your passion for life was infectious, and he found himself getting lost in the sparkle of your eyes.
Maybe he loved you, or maybe he loved the idea of you, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed been around someone who saw life as colourful and bright, rather than how he saw it and how the majority of everyone he knew saw it.
But if Spencer was to ever admit what he truly liked about you, he enjoyed the way you kissed him. How every kiss you gave him was memorable. He could tell with every kiss you missed him when he wasn’t around, you cared about him and that he was the last person you thought about as you drifted asleep.
As the night grew late and the restaurant began to empty, Spencer realised he couldn't keep pretending that what they had was just a casual fling. He needed to admit to himself that he was falling for you, hard and fast. The way your hand felt in his, the sound of your laughter filling his ears, it was all too much to ignore.
"I can't keep pretending that you don't mean everything to me," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You make life worth living. Whenever I see your name flash across my screen, or every time I remember your face, I want to kiss you.”
“Spencer Reid as romantic, who could have imagined.” You chuckled, you felt the same way, but you could never put it into such words. “I feel the same way. I want to be yours.”
“You’ll always be mine. You are perfect for me, and I am, well perfect for you.” Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your lips, feeling the weight of his confession lifting off his shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by the fading chatter of the restaurant and the gentle glow of the streetlights outside, Spencer knew that he had found something rare and precious with you. As your fingers intertwined with his, he couldn't help but smile, a genuine, unguarded expression of happiness spreading across his face.
*
Spencer flagged down a taxi, he couldn’t wait to get you home. The taxi pulled up to the curb, and Spencer held the door open for you, a small smile playing on his lips. The city lights glimmered in your eyes as you settled into the backseat, his hand finding yours instinctively. The ride home was filled with comfortable silence, the air crackling with unspoken words and promises.
Once the taxi had arrived outside his apartment, he leaped out and open the door for you. “A real gentleman you’ve got there.” The taxi driver smiled, giving you a knowing look as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Spencer chuckled softly, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks at the driver's comment. Escorting you up to his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that settled over him like a warm blanket.
Once you were in the comfort of his apartment, he grabbed your face and pulled it closer to his. He gazed into your eyes, seeing a reflection of his own desires and emotions staring back at him. Without uttering a single word, he closed the distance between your lips, kissing you with a fervour that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Spencer except for the connection he shared with you.
As the kiss deepened, a wave of passion and longing swept over the both of you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Spencer's hands moved gently to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly as if to reassure himself that you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.
Maybe it was out of instinct, but Spencer moved his hands down the back of your dress and felt the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips. His fingers found the top of the zipper and he slowly started pulling down, while his mouth found its way to your neck.
Your breath caught in your throat as his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. “You are beyond beautiful.” Spencer gently whispered against your skin; his breath warm against your neck.
Spencer's fingers traced a delicate path along your spine as he slowly lowered the zipper of your dress, his touch felt like feathers dancing along your skin. Every nerve in your body felt alive and electrified under his gentle caress, and you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.
His lips found yours once more, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with a raw intensity that threatened to consume you both. Lost in the heady rush of desire, you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse your very souls together.
Spencer was never the kind of man to hurry into get you naked, he liked taking it slowly, savouring every moment and committing it to memory. His hands moved with purpose, but also with a tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. As the dress slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, Spencer's eyes roamed over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour as if committing them to memory.
“I don’t how I ever got so lucky.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and desire. Spencer guided you towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, tonight felt more romantic, more intimate.
Spencer gently laid you on his bed, his gaze never wavering from yours. The room was imbued with a sense of intimacy and affection, as if every object bore witness to the love shared between you and Spencer. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your skin.
Though Spencer was still fully clothed, you didn’t feel vulnerable, you felt loved and adored. You felt as if Spencer was your biggest fan. But Spencer, been the gentleman he is, wasn’t going to allow you to be the only one naked. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing the expanse of his chest as he shed the fabric, every movement deliberate and filled with a silent promise.
As his shirt fell to the floor, Spencer lowered himself onto the bed beside you, his body radiating heat and a quiet intensity. His mouth left a trail of kissed down your body, igniting a trail of fire along your skin as he worshipped every inch of you with his lips and tongue. Each touch was a testament to his adoration, a silent vow of devotion that echoed through the room.
His lips started moving down your body, his lips finding your nipples and gently sucking them, his tongue flicking over them. But they weren’t the centre of his focus, because if Spencer was one thing, he was giving. He loved hearing you moan for him, how you complete surrendered yourself to him. He enjoyed knowing he had ruined anyone else for you, because he knew you the best, he knew what made you squirm. He wasn’t usually the type of man who wanted to ‘own’ something, but you were different. He had always wanted you for himself, even if at the start he was nervous.
His hands moved lower, caressing your hips, your thighs, his fingers dipping into you, the warmth of your body accepting him wholeheartedly. He felt you tremble under his touch, your body responding to his every move, and he felt a surge of power and desire within him.
Your breathing quickened, every gasp and moan a testament to the pleasure that was building within you. Spencer's eyes met yours, the fire in your eyes mirrored in his own. He knew then that this was more than just a physical connection, it was a soul-deep bond that took his breath away.
He paused, the tip of his finger hovering over your sensitive spot, teasing you. You knew what you wanted, and you could tell that Spencer knew it too. He smiled, a warm and genuine smile that made your heart flutter.
"Please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Please, what princess?” Spencer teasingly asked, stroking your inner thigh with his fingers.
You swallowed hard; your desperation clear in your eyes.
“Use your words.” He insisted, his gaze never leaving yours.
“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
His lips were soon on your clit, his tongue plunging inside you, tasting you, exploring you. Your body arched beneath him, a silent plea for him to keep going, to never stop. And he obliged, his tongue darting in and out of you, his fingers working in perfect rhythm, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered apart underneath him. You came with a cry, your body convulsing beneath his, and he felt the wave of your release wash over him, taking him to a place of pure ecstasy.
As your body relaxed, he pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours, his face a picture of pure satisfaction. He moved up beside you, his hands steadily exploring your body, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.
But Spencer was far from done. He knew exactly what you needed; he could read your body like an open book.
Spencer slowly slid inside you, feeling the walls of your body cling to him like a force of nature. He moved slowly at first, savouring every moment of the connection that flowed between them. Your body arched towards him, eager to feel him deep inside, seeking the completion of a desire that had been building for so long.
As he thrust deeper, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment making your heart race and your breath quicken. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body craving the warmth and connection.
He picked up the pace, each stroke more fervent than the last, the sounds of your breath and his groans filling the room. The air was thick with desire and the scent of your arousal, heightening the passion between you.
Your hips met his with each thrust, matching his rhythm and pulling him deeper into you. Every movement felt more intense, every touch more electric. In that moment, you and Spencer became one, moving as one, feeling as one.
Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer, every sensation heightening, every touch becoming more intense. Spencer's breathing was ragged, mirroring yours. The room was alive with the sound of your bodies moving in a primal dance, lost in each other's eyes.
Your breathing became higher pitched, signalling your orgasm was coming. You arched your back, your head falling back as you screamed his name. Spencer felt the walls of your pussy clenching tighter around him, and he knew that he was going to cum too.
He thrust harder, feeling the heat of your body engulfing him, taking him over the edge. His orgasm was explosive, shooting wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He held you close, his lips pressed against your neck, his breath still ragged with desire.
Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion and desire. You lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still connected. Spencer gently stroked your hair, his expression filled with love and affection. "You are my everything," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I can’t wait to tell the world about you.”
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How they’d react to you not kissing/hugging him before leaving for a mission…
Dick acts as though you told him his ass isn’t that fat in his spandex suit-
He’s insulted.
You always, always remember to kiss his cheek before he leaves. His ‘good luck, be safe and kick ass’ cheek kiss!
It’s your thing as a couple! Do you want to see him cry because he fucking will! He’ll do it!
Dick will pout, huff and whine loud as possible in hopes that you’d realise your error and rectify it tenfold. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. No, he wants and expects you to figure it out for yourself, which doesn’t get him anywhere when you’re looking at him confused and lost as to what he was whining about; Literally.
His mood will be down for the entirety of the day and you’ll no doubt have texts from his teammates and family members asking what was wrong with Dick to look so down.
You’re just as confused as them seeing as how Dick didn’t disclose his innermost thoughts and feelings to you despite being his partner, so you were at a loss on how to help them with something even you weren’t privy to knowing…it’s probably one of your biggest issues as a couple but that’s for another time.
Dick will do that pathetic thing where he looks back at you expectantly the closer he gets towards the door, even going so far as to walk extremely slow when he was within reaching distance of the door handle as to buy you enough time to notice before he genuinely had to leave.
When you don’t however, Dick acts like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day and will proceed to exaggerate to anyone with ears about how his lover was restricting him of his affection.
On the other hand, If you do manage to remember to give him a good luck kiss, planting an extra one on his other cheek for extra, extra luck. Dick will have a permanent smile on his face that will not go the fuck away, even when he’s beating someone’s ass, the smile remains glued on his face as though with gorilla glue.
Seeing Dick brutally beat someone’s ass with a smile was horrifying for anyone to witness but it’s okay bc he’s happy that you remembered to kiss him good luck.
Jason will immediately call you out on your bullshit.
And by that I mean cross his arms over his chest and stare at you saying. ‘Well?’
And you’re like: ‘well what?’
And he’s like: ‘where’s my good luck kiss that you owe me? Roy is waiting on me and here I am waiting on my kiss, so give me my kiss chipmunk.’
Jason doesn’t piss about and gets to the meat of the issue at hand. He wants his good luck kisses and he wants them now and he will not leave the apartment until he gets them.
You’d raise a brow at his not so subtle neediness for your affection and decided to tease him. ‘I thought you didn’t need my good luck kisses remember? You’re a big boy who can fight with or without my good luck kisses.’
Jason groans, not expecting you to pull that out. ‘I said that one time. One time and I was being a dick back then too because all you wanted to do was show me that you cared about me and didn’t want me to get hurt.’
You smiled and got up from the couch and walked over to him, resting your hands on his biceps. ‘So now that you admit that you were a dick and the way that you acted was wrong…’ you trailed off as you pressed a kiss to his lips once, twice, three times because you loved to kiss Jason whenever possible and will try to plant as many kisses as you could.
‘Thanks chipmunk.’ Jason murmurs against your lips, feeling everything has gone back to being right again. ‘Now I better be off or Roy will tease me for lingering too long-‘
‘Too late.’ Roy said from the doorway and Jason closed his eyes and silently curse while you smiled and waved at Roy. ‘Hi Roy!’ You said. ‘Hi y/n, mind letting Jason come out to play?’ Roy joked. You played along by making a thoughtful face as Jason mutters under his breath; ‘are you being serious right now?’
You snapped your fingers. ‘As long as you make sure Jason doesn’t get into trouble then yes, he may go out and play.’
‘I hate you both.’ Jason groaned as he walked past you and playfully shoved Roy aside to leave the apartment. Roy then cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted after him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want your goodbye kisses?’ You and Roy laugh together upon hearing Jason cursing him out from a distance.
Damian acts indifferent about it.
He doesn’t need a good luck hug, hell! he doesn’t need luck at all!
He’s skilled enough to win any fight without relying on something silly as Luck. Luck was just probability under a different name and definition. (A/n: Don’t quote me on that.)
So when you forget to give him a hug before a mission, Damian doesn’t think anything of it but it will linger in his mind unnecessarily much to his annoyance.
Why was he so hung up on not getting something a silly as a hug? Or was he instead more upset over the fact that you, his closest friend/partner, completely forgot about it as though it wasn’t anything worth remembering.
Either way he was conflicted and didn’t know how to go about saying any of this to you without getting frustrated over his apparent loss for words. He was a man of action more then anything so when he finally catches up to you, he will stride towards you and stop just a couple of inches and silently stare at you with his resting bitch face.
‘Damian?’ You asked. ‘Are you okay?’
Damian doesn’t say anything because he couldn’t think of anything to say in that moment and instead stays silent as to save himself from further embarrassment.
‘Damian?’ You asked again, getting worried over his unusual silence. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Damian had lunged towards you and brought you into a very tight hug. You smile softly and gladly hugged Damian back, not saying a single word other then;
‘You don’t need me to say it but I’ll reaffirm it anyway, you’ll do great out there Dami. I know you will.’
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hi i wanted to ask since your requests are open but can u write abt jjk guys (gojo, geto and maybe megumi as well) and how it would be like arguing with them? thank youuu~
ARGUMENTS WITH JJK MEN ˚｡𖦹
featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader
warnings. cursing on toji's :)
note. hi nonnie, megumi's been done and you can just click right there to be directed to the said post — so, i'm going to change him to his father jsksdjdk. anyways, i'm so sorry this came out so late, i hope you like it. i was going to focus on my 1k event but then i realized that i'm holding up the requests in my inbox, so i'm going to try to upload them together one by one. / and ngl, i just did my nails done for the first time, aND I AM STRUGGLING TO DO ANYTHING. including typing, but i'm trying my best skdjs.
GOJO SATORU. arguments with him are just plain loud. for instance, we all know how gojo is, he'd be so petty during arguments. despite that though — i feel like he won't ever raise his voice at you, he's petty, yes. but he won't do anything that could scare you, raising his voice.
believe me when i say that he won't back down when he isn't in the wrong. he will argue back if you're wrong; and even with all that banter, both you and gojo will always resolve it together. he won't let you leave or turn away to discard the argument. gojo hates it when you give him the silent treatment — so he tries his best to not let you leave unless everything is talked about, face to face.
"satoru, i'm just saying that i didn't mean to do that. okay? i didn't even realize it!" you tell him, voice loud and bold.
gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, "this is the second time y/n, i'm sure you realize that — you're not a child anymore." you grumbled under your breath.
the past few days have been stressful. hectic for you. you knew though it wasn't an excuse, but when things get too caught up — you lose track of things, and honestly, you wanted nothing to do but to sleep and take a rest. work has been taking a big toll on you, both mentally and physically — and you can't bring yourself to argue with gojo right now.
"satoru, i know. it's just, things have been stressful at work. i'm sorry i forgot to turn off the stove," you tell him genuinely sorry that you almost, possibly burn the whole house down if he hadn't been the one to realize that, "i'm sorry, okay?"
his gaze softened. regaining control over the rhythm of his breathing, gojo reaches out to you, "d'you wanna talk about it?"
you shook your head, "i just wan' to sleep, satoru. i'm tired." he buries his nose into your hair before tossing you over his shoulder, you didn't complain at the way he decided to carry you — you just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.
the male held you close as he climbed your shared bed, "'m sorry too," he mumbles, grazing his lips over your forehead.
"you don't have to be, it's my fault for being reckless," you replied, draping an arm over his torso, clutching his black shirt, "can we sleep now?"
gojo chuckles, "mhm. good night," he whispers, "i love you."
you smiled at him, burying your face into his chest, "good night 'toru. i love you more."
GETO SUGURU. arguments with geto can be pretty frustrating, although he never raises his voice at you. he just knows what to say, and he's always right too. whether it being about you forgetting to throw the trash out (once), or you being forgetful about some things — geto just knows the right words to say to you, without making you feel like you're doing something wrong.
see, the thing is in the house. you both divided your chores, geto does the dishes, and the mopping. you do the laundry and vacuuming. while the morning trash is yours, and he does it nightly.
he's usually never in the wrong. most of the time. but when he is, he will admit so. in conclusion, you don't argue with him often, because he will apologize if he knows he did something wrong. but this was on rare occasions.
today is one of those rare occasions. you swore you had left the house clean — and you remembered throwing the trash before you leave for work. yet, here he was, asking you about it.
"suguru, i promise i threw it in the morning. before i left for work," you tell him, taking off your shoes and putting it neatly on the shoe rack. having to come back home from work, you just wanted to eat dinner, have a nice warm bath, and sleep.
god, you hated arguments. you admitted that you sometimes forget to throw the trash out while rushing to go to work, but that was not intentional at all.
geto had asked your prior about it. you knew he wasn't sparking an argument, but the thing is — you remembered it well. going out of the door this morning while holding a plastic of waste, hell, you even remembered bumping into a neighbor on the way out.
"just . . . let me throw it out again—" geto has been awfully silent for the past few minutes, and when you approached the trash can, he immediately stops you.
his hand latching around your wrist gently as he pulls you over, "no, no. it's my fault, i remember now. i was the one who threw that in the trash can after you left," he said to you in an apologetic tone, "'m sorry."
you shook your head, "it's okay, it's just a misunderstanding. and it's not like you intentionally forgot about it, right?" he nods his head mutely, pulling you into a silent embrace, "y'okay sugu?"
"the next time i do that — i want you to smack me in the face, okay?" you chuckled, placing a wet kiss onto his lips.
TOJI FUSHIGURO. i don't know how to say it — he's just accepts his fate and does whatever you want him to do. he thinks arguments are a complete waste of time, it's not like he likes arguing with you in the first place. he just doesn't see a point to it since he never initiates the talking; you always do. but that's because he did things that sparked the said argument. you reap what you sow.
toji can be lazy sometimes. scratch that. most of the time. clothes sprawled out in the living room, on the kitchen counter which he claimed he forgot when he was grabbing water, on the couch, on the headboard of your bed, on the bathroom sink. and honestly, he's a grown man — he knows better than that.
"toji, how many times do i have to tell you—"
"put the dirty laundry in their place, yeah, y'reminded me that like . . . three times today." he grumbled under his breath as he yawned out loudly.
"then why are you still leaving them everywhere? god, this is so childish! it's like 'm taking care of a fucking baby," toji lets out a sigh, "i'm so tired of telling you over and over again. you're a grown man, why can't you act like one?"
toji's not dumb. he knows it's his mistake, and sometimes he genuinely forgets about leaving his shirt out while being too preoccupied with other things. he loves you, he really does. the last thing he'd like is you leaving him because he can't stop his habit of leaving his shirt everywhere.
he approaches you, taking the shirt out of your grip, "my fault."
"damn right it is. the next time i see another shirt, i swear to god, you're sleeping on the couch." you muttered out, crossing your arms — watching as the male meekly trotted into the bathroom where the laundry basket rested beside the bathroom cabinet.
"is that a threat?" he chuckles, peeking his head out.
"no. it's a warning."
he walks out of the bathroom, slithering an arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. prepping you on his lap, "mm. noted, can you stop getting mad at me now?" he comments, grazing his finger over your neck.
and he did it again at night (and slept on the couch like you warned him, he still hates you for that).
© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
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