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preqwells · 14 hours

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♡︎♡︎ SWEET.

simon riley x reader synopsis: you and your fiancé were settling in for the night, ready to go to bed until you insisted on doing a little skincare with him— he didn't know it'd bring about old memories. tags: fluff, slight angst/lots of comfort, mentions of blood word count: 1.8k

There you were again— another night of standing in front of the mirror, your menagerie of face products messily lined upon the white-marbled sink, the hum of a low fan serving as white noise as you got ready for bed. The bathroom’s humidity welcomed you, having just gotten out of a well-deserved shower. A white towel wrapped snugly around you as you reached your hand out to press it against the fogged glass, rubbing the condensation away in short and swift motions. You leaned over the sink in a feeble attempt to get closer to it, the edge of the sink poking at your stomach as your eyes squinted in concentration. An exasperated sigh left your lips, eyes daring to roll back into the back of your head out of sheer annoyance from the inconvenience. A sudden hand snaked around your waist, pulling you into its warmth as you jolted up out of surprise, your shoulders loosening once you put two and two together.

“Boo.” The gruff voice whispered, his voice reverberating from his chest into your frame. A huff of amusement escaped through his nose, seeming quite pleased with his ability to still catch you off guard doing such mundane things as taking care of yourself. He was met with a gentle elbow to his hardened abdomen, your elbow seeming to take more of the blow than him. “Rude, Simon.. I was busy!” You griped, reprimanding your fiancé for sneaking up on you when he was aware of how much you hated that. Years of military training seemed to only hone his stealth rather than diminish it, his tendency to loom in hallways and corners out of pure habit by now. “Uh-huh. Bet you were, love. Quite a shame.” Simon supplied simply, unphased by words that lacked any venom in them. He slipped past you with ease, extending his arm out towards the lid of the toilet seat, letting it fall as he took a seat atop it, legs spreading as he drank in your figure. Simon did this often, almost following you around like a lost puppy— dark eyes simply fixated on you and enamored with your movements. “I was! I was about to put on a face mask.” You said as your hand reached for a nearby packet, the small gray packet crinkling with each movement. Simon’s eyes narrowed in examination of the product, brows slightly furrowed as he took it from you without further hesitation, his eyes scanning it, practically burning holes into it. “Charcoal... paper mask. What s’all this for?” He asked with a hint of interest in his tone, his brows knitted in skepticism. He was aware of your interest in skincare, yet the topic remained foreign to him for the most part. He had no need for it although his skin was beyond needing care. A couple of ingrown hairs from messily shaving in the wrong direction, and purple under eyes that did anything and everything but blend into his skin. Skincare— what the hell does anyone need skincare for? Are soap and water not enough these days?

“It’s supposed to reduce oil by pulling blackheads out or something, I think.”

“Your skin’s oily?”

“Isn’t yours too?”

“Dunno. Just usually scrub the shit out of it and roll out of bed good as new...” He mused, rotating the packet between his index finger and middle, offering it back to you after he was done. Being in the military left little room to worry about the condition of his skin, the only liquid meeting his skin being water, sweat, and blood— his own... most of the time. It was a folly thought to think you believed he was informed about the condition of his skin, stifling a small laughter caught in his throat. You gently took it from him, ripping the top of the plastic packaging off and absentmindedly setting it aside before an idea crossed your mind. Simon sensed this, his eyebrows slightly raised as interest peeked through his poker face.

“Si…” You began sweetly, your voice comically raising an octave in an attempt to persuade him. As predicted, Simon’s resolve slowly crumbled at the sweetness in your voice, mentally cursing himself for being such a sucker for you. “What is it?” He softly inquired, his head cocked slightly to the side as he awaited your words. “Would you want to try this with me?”

"Try what?"

"A face mask— don't act stupid."

"If I wanted to act stupid, I'd take notes from you, lovie."

"Oh, ha-ha." You stuck your tongue out at him, eliciting a huff of amusement from him. He remained quiet as he gently took ahold of your hand, getting your fingers to loosen their grip on the packet. His eyes scanned the foreign piece of plastic, reading the ingredients it contained. You caught his attention, moving closer to him as you pointed out the ingredients.

"These are just all the things it's mixed with. Niacinamide is supposed to help with oil reduction, the aloe is for calming inflamed skin..." You trailed off as you gestured for him to read the rest. He gave you a look that practically screamed, 'You don't need any of this', but he obliged in the directions you gave him anyway. Everything checked out with what you said, not that he'd doubt your knowledge. You always knew about little facts, odds and ends here and there-- maybe that's why you kept wiping the floor with him whenever you two would watch Jeopardy.

He inhaled deeply for a moment before letting the puff of air out through parted lips, finally giving you a nod of acknowledgment at your earlier offer. "Yeah, sure." He agreed, shrugging it off as if it were no big deal. The corners of your lips tugged to form a huge grin as he handed the packet back to you to rip open. You took a step forward between his legs, his dark brown eyes watching you with rapt attention. Pale eyelashes flicked up to trail your features as you struggled to open the packet, much to his delight. The shape of your lips, the way strands of your hair would fall into your face and catch against your long lashes that dropped over your eyes— Simon was by no means a saint, but God, did he want to be one for you. His hand found its way to your clothed hip, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric.

"Aha! Got it!" You threw your hands up in the air, fists clenched as you celebrated your small victory of getting the packet opened. "Ready?" You eagerly asked, practically teeming with joy. He stiffened slightly at your words, his eyes straying from yours for a moment. He didn't know what came over him— you had seen his face a thousand times, hell, it wasn't like he was wearing a mask now. Maybe it was the way that all these face products served as a reminder that he didn't have perfect skin. Better yet, it served as a reminder he was far from perfect himself. Scars littered his body, some from even when he hadn't been in the military— each scar on his body told a story, some nastier than others. "Yeah." He responded bluntly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. You were his fiancé and accepted him wholeheartedly— he knew that. Your relationship had been through hell and back to get to where you are now. Countless missions he had gone on that you were convinced he wasn't going to come back from, dreading the day that you'd only have his dog tag to remember him by. You were the only person he had left and gave a promise of coming back to— everything be damned if he didn't claw his way back to you every time.

You fished the paper mask out of the packaging that was soaked in product, his eyebrow twitching in curiosity about how it was going to be applied. "Close your eyes." You cooed as he stared at you for a moment before his eyelashes fluttered shut. Your expression softened as you straightened the mask before placing it over his face, the coolness of the mask sending a chill up his spine. You began smoothing out the mask with your thumb, delicately mapping out his features. His nose was crooked from the time he told you he broke his nose at age 18 for getting into some barfight at a local pub, which served as no surprise since you were well aware of his temper when it was directed towards others. Craters of acne scarring embedded into his cheeks from his nails digging at the painful hormonal acne he had suffered from until the ripe age of 22. The scar on his chin from when he had scraped it on a rock as a rookie in training for the military. All of what made Simon, Simon.

"You're handsome." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it." He replied, his voice mirroring yours. You gave him a weak smile as you shook your head, your thumb still smoothing down the edges of the mask. He always hid behind his cocky demeanor, vulnerability masked by his dry humor. "No, I mean it." You mumbled as a moment of silence fell between you two, filled by the low hum of the bathroom fan. His hand was still resting on your hip, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh blanketed by polyester. He didn't say anything in response, opting to say nothing as he blinked a few times, his gaze falling on a nearby bath towel that was strung up to dry. Even though his words failed him, you could've sworn you saw a hint of a smile threatening to grace his features.

The rest of the evening continued with him learning more about skincare, letting you ramble on about which products you were looking forward to getting in the future. Night fell as quickly as the evening ended, landing you two in the comfort of your shared bed. You fell asleep before he did, practically swallowed whole by the cotton blanket you two had picked out a week ago. Maybe it's too big, he thought to himself. His eyes landed on your sleeping form, watching as your chest rose and fell rhythmically. Your hair was sprawled across the pillow as moonlight filtered in through the curtains, almost giving an illusion of an aureole of light surrounding you— he could've mistaken you for an angel itself if he were half-asleep, honestly. He reached out for your hand, gingerly taking it in his as he admired the ring he had proposed to you with. His index finger grazed across the band of gold, the reality that you were his pulling at his heartstrings.

He fell asleep with you in his arms that night, peppering kisses to your temple before bringing his face down to rest in the crook of your neck with him tucked at your side. He wasn’t burdened by nightmares for the first time in a while— he dreamed.

banner credit: @/saradika

#cod x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley x y/n #fluff #simon riley fluff

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rocksibblingsau · 2 days

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I don't know if you already have something laid out for that dynamic, but I feel that country Branch and Clay would either bond really easily (after the whole "you were in the tree that whole time?!" thing gets resolved" or bicker at almost every opportunity

Branch already reads a lot and with the country trolls affinity for sadness and hard times, Clay has the one the quickness path to Branch's heart out of all the brothers. Also with Clay's leadership role and serious vibes, he would probably habe a lot of respect and many different topics to talk with Branch about.

But on the other hand, their similarities could easily make them hate each other. Clay seeing Branch's leadership role as a reflection of Jd and not of himself is one of them, but also jealousy over how respected he and his boundaries are. And this Branch would shut down the babying way easier than canon, he probably had to prove himself to many country trolls and would not let himself be disrespected without a serious fight

I actually do see Clay and somewhat Bruce seeing Branch as a mini-JD initially when they visit his home. They don't get to see his dynamic during the rescue, but once they get back to Lonesome Flats they see how Branch takes charge and orders people around and all they can see is John Dory.

Clay can't recognize that Branch is a leader like him rather than John because Branch doesn't have his own Viva. I imagine Clay and Viva tag team issues in an almost 'stern parent/fun parent' dynamic. Viva softens any blows by trying to point out the bright side or explain why Mr. Clay's idea is gonna be fun/great.

Country Trolls don't need that dynamic. If Branch says have those silos filled by the end of the day, they don't stop and ask why. They can, and Branch would be happy to answer, but they know already that Branch has good reasons.

I imagine in that scenario Bruce might try to gentle parent. "Don't you think that's a strict deadline? As long as they get filled, what does it matter if it's today or tomorrow?" Clay is also chastising Branch on overworking people and being too demanding.

Branch would look at them and raise an eyebrow, then call someone over.

"Ambrosia, could you tell me what you told me this mornin'?" "Sure thing. I said make sure all the grain is up by tomorrow unless you're fine with it bein' washed away. There's a storm headin' in and anything not in the silos is as good as gone."

If Branch says to do something, he has a reason. He's happy to explain his reasoning to you, but in the Country tribe, there's no point wasting time chit-chatting. They trust Branch, so they don't see any point wasting precious breath debating it.

It may look like Branch is giving orders, but he's not really in charge of anything formally like Delta Dawn is. They're suggestions, really. Advice from an expert plugged into nature and the community. They might sound like orders, especially given that everyone goes ahead and does what he says, but no one really has to listen to him. They respect Branch Dawn, and not just because he's Delta's kin.

#sibblings qna #country branch au #trolls branch #brozone #trolls clay #trolls bruce

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outrunningthedark · 2 days

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just that the fandom is proving how they are only in it for Buck and Eddie/Ryan and Oliver when they're complaining about a deleted scene on social media or claiming "queerbait" instead of asking (not demanding, that was poor word choice by me) to hear from someone else a little more often.

I don't think it's a secret that most of the fandom is only in it for Buddie though?

Not that people don't enjoy the show otherwise or wouldn't be watching without the ship, but online fandom specifically? I don't think there'd be a fandom without Buddie. It would be a show like Station 19 or Chicago Fire maybe, good ratings, a couple of people live tweet it, and a gifset would get maybe 100-500 notes on it.

Most of the online fandom is absolutely in it for Buddie, but also Buck and Eddie as individual characters, which is why the reaction to Buck/Tommy from Eddie stans is solely due to the knowledge that Eddie could have had the arc first, and if Eddie actually did come out this season the Buck stans would be letting people know how upset they are - Buddie is preferred because both sides get what they want out of it. The issue is that many in online fandom pretends to care about the other characters to the same degree to appear "better" than the folks only here for Buddie, yet their actions prove time and time again that it's not the case. Take the disrespect towards Hen as a lesbian who's been there from the very beginning. Henren gifs aren't popping up five minutes after a scene airs just so the op can (hopefully) get the most notes. People ask for Ryan to be released from "PR jail", but where are the requests to hear from Aisha? Why don't people get routinely upset when an episode *looks like* it won't focus too heavily on Hen the way they do when they feel like Eddie is being ignored? "There are more Buck/Tommy fics than Henren fics" Okay...and the Buddie tag has always outdone Henren, so....why is a different pairing a problem now? It's their friends writing the fics anyway? And they support them when it's the endgame they like? Similarly, people claimed to care about/look forward to the Madney wedding, and somehow the discussion was never about the actual event until it happened. it was about how karaoke night could lead to a secret hookup or feelings realization or TOMMY helping fandom's faves get their shit together by "noticing" something between them. In an episode about someone else's wedding. They're here for Henren and Madney and Bathena, but what's the thing everyone's blowing up social media pages about? Buddie. Whether it's complaints over being baited with the promo (something being encouraged on this very site) or sending a barrage of Buddie tweets or comments to drown out any Buck/Tommy support...people sure aren't acting like they know how to enjoy anything that isn't Buddie. I have no problem with anybody who is only/mostly in the fandom for Buddie (I myself will always feel the most connected to the Buckley-Diaz dynamic in any form for personal reasons), or anybody who might be new to us because of Bi Buck and Buck/Tommy. Just don't lie about it to make yourself look better when all it does is highlight your hypocrisy. (I mean, unless they want us to see through them that easily. Lol.)

#anonymous #tina speaks

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epickiya722 · 21 hours

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I think people took the "hey, you should be aware of issues about the way some stories treat it's female characters" and instead of actually going forward and treating these characters as, well, characters that deserve to be fairly analized

they went backwards and put up impossibly high standards for these female characters and made anything remotely sexual about them regardless of context as "it is evil and bad writing" when they wouldn't ever do the same for the male characters.

They don't even bat an eye for the fact that whole fandoms will absolutely ADORE a guy who is either the most vile asshole in the story or straight up a bland nothing as long as he is generically attractive enough.

Like that's just misogyny but "girlbossed" now.

(I kind of went on a ramble here, I won't lie and I apologize for that. I just.. had a lot to say.)

And I definitely agree with you, Anon.

I made that same point that you stated in this point right here in a post I wrote a while back.

The same people who will say "it's bad writing" are the same people who don't take the time out to analyze a female character.

It's not "bad writing". You just don't want to understand her.

A male character can have the exact same traits as her and can be analyzed and "He's just misunderstood" and adored, but the most that female character can get is the bare minimum from the fandom.

I have my male faves, too, that I like to analyze. But don't the female cast also deserves the attention, too?

Everyone who follows me know I am a big Miruko fan. And I love her more now because over the past... 2 years or so I have written posts about her of why she probably acts the way she does or does the things she do. And it came easy to me.

Mind you, she is a minor character. She doesn't have a lot of screen time and we don't much about her backstory unless you have read Vigilantes where she gets a flashback arc. And even with all the little information she has from canon, analyzing her was fun for me.

Analyzing her actually why it's fun for me when I do so for Yuji.

It's just there.

Let's say a female character is comfortable with her own sexuality and femininity. "Slut, whore, oversexualized". But the same people who apply those terms to male characters in a more positive way.

"Such a slutty waist, look at him so sexy, he's such a whore and I'm here for it".

So let me get straight. A woman can be a sexy character, but a man can even those that aren't even all that sexy.

Again, I'm using Miruko as an example.

People will have grievances over her costume but were so quick to be horny over the male characters wearing that same costume. Which, and I know some of you ain't gonna like, some of them did not look good in.

Also, then what about the male hero costumes or the fact that Shigaraki and Dabi are obvious fanservice now? You're telling me you're okay with the fact that Endeavor and All Might's costumes are super tight but Miruko shows some skin and it's a problem?

Oh, I'll give another example of some fandom misogyny.

Maki Zenin. The JJK fandom be pulling some tomfuckery when it comes to her. "She's such a girlboss". Okay, but you feel sympathize or empathize with her? "Oh my gosh, Sukuna is gonna kill her!" So, let me get this straight. Even though others who have been hit with Black Flash has survived, Maki the one female victim of it is going to die from that one blow? Whose body is pretty much a cheat code against cursed energy? That Maki? That one?

Let's not forget, you can bring her up without someone bringing up Yuta! I wrote a post about her and Nobara and someone goes "At least, Maki loves Yuta, right?" THIS IS NOT ABOUT YUTA!! GOOD GRIEF, CAN THIS BE ABOUT THE FEMALE CHARACTERS FOR ONCE? LIKE, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE WITH THAT!!

And Yuki! Sooo... y'all are upset that Gege killed her off, right? Okay, understanding. I like Yuki, too. With that said... um... then why in the fuck did I have to type a Yuki Lives tag for her despite her being dead in the manga since December 2022? Almost 2 years? There are currently 3 fics with that tag and two of them are mine!

Kaori, oh, the fandom doesn't love you enough! I had to type in a tag for her! There was no Itadori Kaori & Itadori Yuji tag! THAT IS STILL HIS MOM?! "But Kenjaku---" Correct me if I'm wrong, but that is still Kaori's body, right? If Choso states he has three parents, then Yuji can, too. Guess what, Kaori is his mother. People love to make sure others know Kenjaku and Suguru are separate people but what about Kaori? You don't think she was her own person?

From Wasuke's words and behavior, I figure she was different than how Kenjaku acted.

Anyways!!

Also, with Delicious in Dungeon! I haven't even watched or read it and I have seen so many posts about how that one helmet guy had a lot of panty shots and loving it, yet I hear about people having problems with Falin and Marcille being sexualized? Makes no sense to me, it just doesn't.

It's like people in fandoms want something involving female characters just to bash those female characters.

Complex female characters - insult them

Female characters is written to have a variety of personalities and backstory - boring, shifts focus to more bland male characters

Female character exist with many characteristics - fandom focuses on one trait and make that her whole personality

Female character just exists - labeled just one single word, not worthy of any attention, post about her and someone will make it about a male character

Just... honestly, I feel like before you call a creator a "misogynist", how about taking a step back and observe how you treat female characters and understand the story in which those female characters come from?

#kiya answers #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #fandom critical

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i-smoke-chapstick · 2 days

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'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART NINE]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Reader comes to Jervis with a strange request.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Two idiots in their element. The slow burn is slow burning. She fell first, he fell harder. Jervis is mystified. Soft Jervis. Both Jervis and reader are hurt. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. The girls are FIGHTING. Stick with me. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom @sweetlimeharvest @frenchfryqueen69

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - 'PART FIVE, - 'PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN' - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, - 'PART TEN,

♫ “Think I need someone older, just a little bit colder.” Older by Isabel LaRosa

Opening the door, the small firelight of the mansion paints the living room golden. It's the only light in the house.

You look around to find the place incredibly tidy. The only thing amiss is the two corpses, that lay bloodily on the dining table. The sight makes your breath catch in your throat, but you've admittedly seen much worse with Barbara Kean as your mother. These two must be the actual owners of the mansion. Or used to be, anyways.

You glance at Mr. Tetch in mock disapproval, and he clicks his tongue with a tsk.

"You must forgive me, I wasn't expecting visitors." He turns his nose up at you, voice coming out indignant. His eyes are still wide at your unannounced presence.

"...My bad." You huff, staring at him.

Silence overtakes the room, you two staring at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. His eyes scan you over, landing on the wound on your waist. You don't miss the gesture.

"You shot me." You say, blunt.

"Yes," He hisses. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Should've shot me in the head, then." At this he lets out a very dry, humorless chuckle.

"Pity. I should've. I apologize, I was caught up in the moment."

You send him an unamused look.

Scanning over his face, you see cuts of his own decorate his cheek. He must've taken a blow while you were comatose. Either a scrap to get away from Jim, or the two home owners had put up a fight before he hypnotized them.

"You're hurt." You say, taking a note of how the dry blood sticks to his cheekbones.

He looks inquisitively at you. You're the one shot. You're the one who should be in the hospital.

You sigh at his puzzled complexion.

"What exactly are you doing here?" He drawls, slowly. "Revenge? For Mr. Gordon? For you?" He scoffs, ignoring your look of discontentment.

On Mr. Gordon, actually. You think. You don't say that just yet. That would probably make Mr. Tetch happy. He still shot you. You're kind of enjoying his disgruntled mood at your appearance.

"No." Is all you say, simply. "I just have a lot of questions."

Mr. Tetch raises an eyebrow at this, cocking his head. Good. You've piqued his interest. Before he gets the chance to ask what type of questions, you interrupt him.

"We can talk about it while I clean your cuts. That looks nasty." You say, nodding to his face. He looks equally frustrated and surprised at your words, hesitant. He purses his lips. "Relax. I'm not going to try to kill you. That's more your style, apparently."

He huffs at the dig.

"What did you have in mind?" He asks, curtly. You grin. You dig out of your pocket a bottle of painkillers given to by Selina. His eyes widen.

"Do you know if this place has any gauze or band-aids?"

He narrows his eyes, and turns on his heel without a word. You follow him to the bathroom.

He sits on the edge of the bathtub while you stand. His gaze never strays from you.

You're reminded of Lee digging through the bathroom mirror while you do the same. You managed to find some cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and band-aids.

Looking over at him, you assess the situation. His top hat is askew, with bruises and small injuries decorating his face and neck. God knows how many he actually has, under his clothes.

"Death by a thousand cuts, huh?" You muse. He blinks at you, offering a scoff. "Take off your shirt."

"I beg your pardon?" You watch the blood drain from his face. It's satisfying.

"I'm assuming you have more injuries on your chest as well. Take off your shirt. And turn on the bath faucet."

A moment of stunned silence, before he leans over to run the water. You hold in a laugh as he awkwardly bends on the edge of the tub, long and tall limbs slowly peeling away his clothing. Soon enough, you're shut up yourself.

You swallow as he unbuttons his suit jacket, averting his gaze from yours. You take in his shirtless form with a breath. It feels like something out of a shitty romcom.

He stays silent, effectively embarrassed. You don't blame him. You wonder if he thinks you're purposefully trying to humiliate him. Not that he has anything to be humiliated for. He's gorgeous.

He notices you staring, and squints his eyes. Great. He probably thinks you're some perv now. The humor in the thought makes you involuntarily smile.

"Are you enjoying this?" He asks, sarcastically, through gritted teeth. You kneel in front of him and he goes silent. You can hear the small gasp he lets out and full-body shudder when you bury yourself in-between his legs to get a better angle. It's certainly more...intimate then you thought it would be.

Ignoring his words, you take a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. You place it to one of his cuts, and watch him let out a loud hiss of pain.

"I enjoyed that." You grin up at him, referencing his reaction. He scowls at you.

The room is peculiarly comfortably silent, save for his low groans of pain he attempts to muffle at the stinging.

"You know, I've actually never done this before."

His gaze hardens.

"What?"

"I've never done this before. Not first hand. But I used to watch my mom do this to my dad all the time when he'd come home."

Jervis casts his eyes upwards as you stand up. Dark eyes follow your movements, looking up at you as you cradle his face to steady him. You softly wipe the dry blood away. This is as close as you've ever been to him. You think it's the first time you've touched him, too. It's not entirely unpleasant.

"Why are you here?" He whispers, keeping eye contact with you. His voice is so quiet, almost as though he struggles to get the words out, not being able to focus on anything but the feeling of your hand on his cheek.

You sigh. You knew you'd have to answer the question eventually.

"Same as you, really." You bite your lip, and his gaze flits. "I want revenge on Jim Gordon." You say your dads name quietly, but with no less venom.

Jervis furrows his brows. You'll have to elaborate.

"He chose Lee over me. Purposefully, I'm sure." You say, a bit bitterly, and a bit sadly. You notice how Mr. Tetch's eyes soften at your tone of voice. "He knew what he was doing."

"And you expect me to help? How so?" The corners of his mouth twitch.

"You," Here goes nothing, "You are going to teach me how to hypnotize people."

His expression doesn't change for a moment, before his lips part. For a moment you think he might laugh in your face, and then hypnotize you to go kill yourself. But he stays startingly silent, if not amused by the request.

"I assume you learned hypnotism somehow. So, it can probably be taught, yeah?" You ask. You finished cleaning his cuts a minute ago. You're unsure why you're still standing so close to him. "So, I propose, we form an alliance, of sorts. You want revenge, I do too."

"I could easily accomplish that my own accord." He speaks, glint in his eyes.

"Maybe. But I know everything there is to know about Jim Gordon. I know how to hurt him."

Mr. Tetch stays silent, before sucking his teeth. He seems to mull over his options.

"Hm. Alright." He hums, and your eyes widen. You really weren't expecting him to agree. "On one condition."

And there is it. The bargain. You'll take it though. It's better then him hypnotizing you into helping him after hearing your idea.

"You, young one, will owe me a favor. A favor that I can call upon at any time."

"What kind of favor?" You breath, hesitant. He smirks, and it's strangely comforting to see his charisma and showmanship slowly return.

"Oh, nothing too demanding, I assure you. Just a small service, whenever I see fit. Think of it as a... mutually beneficial arrangement."

You offer him a small grimace, but take the offer regardless. One favor couldn't hurt. No price can be put on revenge, it seems. You're mother taught you that.

You finish running the water, while his stare remains locked on you. Still sitting cross legged on the edge of the bath, he never yields in his gaze. He catches when you wince again in pain, from the shot.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, quirking his head.

You look back at him, eyebrow raised.

"...Why?"

"Can you hear the dripping of the faucet?"

You can...Aw, fuck.

Instantly, you're zoned out. Yeah, Selina was right. This was a horrible idea. But why go through the trouble of asking for a favor? For hearing him out?

"Do you hear how it synchronizes with your heartbeat?"

Beside yourself, you nod. He flashes a wolfish grin.

"Wonderful," He praises. "Your bullet wound won't bother you anymore. The pain is nothing more than an illusion. If anything, it's a mild annoyance."

When he wakes you up out of your trance, you smile at each other.

#gotham #x reader #gotham x reader #batman #batman rogues #gotham villains x reader #batman rouges gallery #batman x reader #dc comics #jervis tetch x reader #jervis tetch #the mad hatter #the mad hatter x reader #fic series #jervis tetch imagine #jervis tetch gotham #the mad hatter dc #mad hatter gotham

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arvoze · 18 days

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yaoi ❗❗

#pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #nuzleaf #floragato #my art #luwel #sune #get scared! i am once again luwesune posting #luwesune #i think i had a tag just for them. good for them. blows them up

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turtle-titan · 1 year

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IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS SCENE

#JUST 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#SPLINTER GIVING UP HIS SPOT #BUT HE ALSO CHECKS WITH MIKEY LIKE ‘HEY SON ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS’#AND WHEN HE SEES HOW MUCH FUN MIKEY IS HAVING HE’S LIKE ‘i had a good run. time to let my sons get a chance to win’#AND THE SOFT FJFJSJDJSJ OF MIKEY #HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO???#‘FINISHING BLOW?’ AND ALL HE CAN THINK IS TO DRAPE THE NUNCHUCK OVER HIS DAD’S SHOULDER #god i love them so much #honestly mikey and splinter have one of (if not my all time) favorite dynamics in 2003 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 mikey #mikey #michelangelo #tmnt michelangelo #idk what to tag my ramblings as #splinter #tmnt 2003 splinter #tmnt splinter

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jestiamy · 8 months

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qsmp makes me feel like a conspiracy theorist almost constantly. I see someone go "yeah bad almost exclusively chooses tophats in games when given the option" and I immediately run back to my conspiracy board and pin that next to the photo of q!slime and q!mariana saying they'll adopt juanaflippa because she has glasses like q!slime/q!mariana respectively under a sticky note captioned "??? the original spanish-english egg pairs were designed in a way meant to attract certain parents to adopting them???", that's connected by red string to a note pad page stating "how random was the parent pairing REALLY?" with nothing under it - which is then connected to a string that leads to several polaroids containing the ending(s) of the wall and the wreckage of the button, captioned "why build a wall that big only to have it end at a certain point?" followed by a string connected to a notebook page in the middle of the board reading "the illusion of choice?" - connected to several other seemingly dead-end questions and theories, as well as some slight stragglers only connected to eachother and not the middle. and then I look over my board covered in feverish notes and I go. yeah okay so I may just have like a slight problem

#quesadilla island and the illusion of choice.#i am so normal #I spent. a little bit too long on this bit I think.#saying stuff #I have more thoughts but it's just the generic stuff.#why does the federation want the residents on the island so badly. how did wilbur even leave the island.#why did islanders from the island itself vs others who aren't arrive the same way. what the fuck is up with the codes.#why do the feds insist on having a good rapport with the islanders. why do they try to desensitize them to their presence via tasks.#why do they try so hard to look non-threatening to the point even grunt workers carry around bubble wands to blow on the regular.#a lot of this is easily “the federation wants to build trust” but that's also a why. what do they stand to gain from doing that.#hold on where's my nerd tag #i think.#oh my god really.#that's. okay yeah that checks out actually #qsmp #quackity smp #q!cellbit a man of the people (I am burning with questions about the federation all of the time oh my god.)#edit if you see spelling mistakes in this post do not correct me please I have a fragile ego #I did not notice until four hours had passed and now I'm committed to pretending I do not in fact care about it

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crescentfool · 10 months

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WHATS UR FAVORITE RYOMINA MOMENT FROM THE MOVIES I NEED TO KNOW!!!

HI FELIX!! thank you for the ask i am always happy to take more opportunities to talk about ryomina they are so special to me o7

it is VERY tempting for me to answer, "every fucking time ryoji showed up on screen!" ok this might be an exaggeration, i like 90% of his screentime, december 2nd ryoji should've been portrayed more like a pathetic wet dog imo but i digress. but hm... favorite moment.

while the helper's club montage has a very strong place in my heart (it permeated my braincells without my permission)!! i think my favorite part of ryomina's portrayal in the movies is the whole sentence finishing thing they got going on. i feel like that's a cop out answer but like.

there is something so so gut wrenching to me about how they start off by making it so that ryoji is the one finishing minato's sentences. always ryoji. BUT THEN!!! when they meet again at the top of tartarus to do battle on judgment day!! they turn it on it's head!! and it's minato!! who finishes the sentence!! and fuck man does it make me feel like i'm being kicked down a staircase.

and to have the sentence finishing happen again for such an important day?? god idk im gonna tear up and someone needs to like. give me like. a chew toy or something this makes me so fucking insane (blows up) (blows up).

so basically my favorite moment is really like, january 31st, but a lot of my attachment to it is BECAUSE they have that set-up in november with ryoji being the silliest fucking guy to have ever walked at gekkoukan. and oh man oh man the fucking. THE. when. WHEN THEY FOLLOW IT UP WITH MINATO SUMMONING THANATOS AFTER THIS?? yeah man. that's the fucking shit.

like i don't think the english language is enough to convey how much i love the artistic choice to have the flash frame of ryoji when minato summons thanatos. it's the hesitation and rebellion babey!!! the whole scene afterwards is so fucking juicy as well.

honorable mention to when ryoji jumped off the fucking roof at iwatodai station to tell minato that he has kindness in his eyes and that he doesn't like seeing him alone. what kind of guy does that. that's so fucking hilarious to me like actually. he was insane for that.

anyway that is my answer i HOPE u enjoyed reading it, god, ryomina still makes me eyes watery (it's been almost 2 years since i've met them??? what the fuck). i feel like others have echoed this sentiment before but nevertheless i was super happy to type it out :D

#lizzy speaks #lizzy askbox #IM SO FUKCING NORMAL ABOUT RYOMINA PERSONA 3 !!!!!!!! WHY DO THEY KEEP DOING THIS TO ME!!#ohhh they give me so much joy thank you thank you for the ask i love to yell about them and blow up #also happy mochizuki monday everyone :) i have a sketch for it i just want to apply some colors first and then i'll post!!#i love answering things in the askbox thank you for the very enthusiastic ask!!!#also re: the helper's club scenes i mentioned in the tags of my redraw of the hallway handholding scene that-#when i watched the movies originally i had to fucking pause after they held hands!! to sleep!!!#so i was just there in bed RESTLESS THINKING 'ohmy godthoohomyhgodt hhey they holdedhands holyfucking shit what am i perceivngi'#it was insane tbh so in that respect the helper's club scenes are very unforgettable to me because it was a brain parasite #but i thought i'd answer with january 31st because it still makes me want to eat dirt and it feels like very good ryomina to me like ohh #bitches who be weak to narrative themeing (me!!) eat this shit up like it's a buffet ohhhh my god they were soulmates #...i'm rambling. can you tell these guys make me not normal at all (insert im so fucking normal gif of the guy pounding the ground here)

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sunkern-plus · 3 months

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controversial psych critical opinion because few psych critical people agree with me on this but I DO believe BPD describes a real...not necessarily disorder but cluster of symptoms that occur from (usually) attachment trauma that very well deserves to be in the dsm because people with that cluster of symptoms need treatment, but I think generalized anxiety and other disorders where it's basically "youre anxious/depressed/reacting this way for no reason and it's because you have a problem and you're crazy and it's your fault" shouldn't materially exist.

like yes, if you fall under the label of generalized anxiety disorder your suffering is real and valid, but realize that your diagnostic label as it exists is BASICALLY "we think you blow your anxieties over things that might be very real to you out of proportion and also you're hysterical and possibly have munchausen's syndrome"

#basically: if a disorder has an explanation that isnt just 'youre blowing shit out of proportion' its fine #if it has an explanation of 'theres no cause only treatment is meds and youre making problems where there arent any'#i think stuff like that should be thrown out #psych critical #antipsych #disability studies tag #mad studies tag #and yeah this is basically based on my experience of being diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder #going over the symptoms and stuff of it and then realizing 'but my 'generalized anxiety' is me reacting to adhd/possible bpd/ocd stuff'#and then realizing 'hey this is a diagnosis people use to basically tell you you're hysterical and you're making up your very real worries #come to think of it i believe i was diagnosed with generalized anxiety as a child over #1.) actual legitimate realistic fears i blew out of proportion from emotional dysregulation from adhd #(like 'nobody here likes me' literally that was true i had no friends!! the problem wasn't me it was THEM!!)#or 2.) manifestations of my low insight/no insight obsessions #(i.e. the constant fears of the apocalypse was LITERALLY ocd. that was an ocd obsession and i felt i had to 'be good' to prevent it)#(either that or die but people treated me and my suicidal impulses at the time as 'faking it for attention')#(even though my brain and the voices in my head from weird ocd related stuff were telling me 'literally you HAVE to die')

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coridallasmultipass · 4 months

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Vent/transphobia in fandom

I regret looking in the trans //// Dirk tag bc wow... people sure do love to shit on other people's interpretation of canon.

Someone fucking said "people are making him trans to 'soften' him and make him more likeable" like holy shit???? Am I actually reading those words?? Someone being blatantly transphobic in the tD tag, where y'know, trans people wanna read posts about tD.

If you think making a character trans 'softens' him, that's literally the definition of transphobia, and that's something you need to work on. Trans men aren't Men Lite. We're not softer and more likeable than cis men. Shut the fuck up.

I feel so fucking sick after reading that. Fucking asshole piece of shit. I did not need to read that tonight, while I'm literally suffering from a 'trapped in the wrong body' flavour of gender dysphoria and S.I. and just TRYING TO FIND PEOPLE BEING NORMAL ABOUT TRANS ///// DIRK SINCE IT FEELS LIKE I'M THE ONLY PERSON WHO FUCKING CARES RIGHT NOW.

Whatever. I will blaze my own way down the tD path. I'm doing it for ME. Not for anyone else. Fucking rancid-ass take, get the fuck out. No one wants to see your whiny transphobic arguments against tD, IN THE TAG FOR TRANS //// DIRK. Keep your transphobia to yourself, or I am busting out the duct tape. (Duct tape=block button. Yes, I blocked them. Don't need that negativity in my blogging experience.)

((Do not talk to me about anything that happens after Homestuck proper. I do not perceive those things. I do not want to know about those things. They do not exist to me.))

PS. Oh, I absolutely love finding any canon evidence to make toxic male characters into trans men (Handso//me Ja/ck, Joh//nny Sil//verhand, Br/o Str/ider, etc... actually now that I line them up like that, Bro is totally tame and normal lmao, HJ is wayyy worse of a person and there's tons of canon evidence I can argue with...)

Anyway, transing the bad guys... It's my favourite passtime. I could not give a fuck what you think about that. I like my men toxic and trans. I don't give a fuck about having "good" representation, because a trans man is still a trans man when he's a toxic asshole. That's the point. Trans men are the same amount of man as cis men. So you can SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT NEEDING A 'SOFT' BOY FOR TRANS MEN'S REPRESENTATION. DO IT YOUR-FUCKING-SELF AND LEAVE THE TRANS //// DIRK TAG TO THOSE OF US WHO KNOW THE TRUTH.

#let me preface this by saying im internally bleeding from all my organs and in a really shitty pms/pmdd mood and cramping #transphobia #vent #im so fucking sick of trans men getting pushed aside bc were not man enough to have a voice in fandom/media #i seriously cannot believe someone said that were making dirk trans to soften him #makes me fucking sick to my stomach #i dont need more reminders that ill never be man enough for people who arent trans men #jfc i spend like 2 weeks back on tumblr and its already making me sick i didnt think iw as gonna find transphobia here in 2024 #remember the time someone told me i was transmisogynistic for saying mettat//on was a trans man? lmao #good times (not)#why cant people be normal about trans men for fuckkng once #rant #angry trans man grumbling #this probably needs tags but idk what they should be bc i dont want this to end up in the associated tags #if ppl havent seen what i just saw i dont want to remind them that transphobia abounds #Cori.exe #Post.exe #i literally feel like my organs are being scraped with a cheese grater #i wish i had a different body im so sick of end/ometriosis #my body is actively being transphobic against me and i am dealt this additional blow by fandom jackasses calling trans men soft #s m fucking h

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neverendingford · 9 months

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#tag talk #vent #I don't wanna do the whole “I'm so good at psychology cause I've fixed myself. I should go into counseling” thing that overly empathetic #empathetic people do. but like. nothing like deconstructing a tense social conflict to make you feel good #the smol autistic minecraft enby who adopted me had a moment and I helped break down the situation and resolve shit with them. it was cool #but also I immediately went out to the living room and napped for three hours. thinning that hard was exhausting.#do you ever do the depression nap thing? when I'm doing well I never sleep during the day. but when I'm sad I take naps a lot #because I don't want to be awake and I sleep poorly at I night and am just generally lethargic so I nap on the floor or couch a lot #ugh knowing the stress will go away doesn't help the fact that it's super awful right now.#it's times like this that I wish I'd really committed to it in Feb. like. in two weeks I'll be better and joy de vivre and all that.#but right now? ugh. big fuckin ugh #the minecraft emotional labor thing is just a natural responsibility of being a 25 year old playing online video games with 15 year olds.#if I see a situation blowing up I can't hear sit by and watch someone destroy their friendships on the server. I have to help #but also bro I am struggling to help myself. maybe I say I'm packing up my pc early so that I have a good excuse to stay off the server #I literally did the thing again where I make new friends. make everyone love me. and then get burnt out at the speed of light and disappear #making friends is so easy. leaving friends is so easy. nothing is forever and we all die someday. blah blah blah you know it already #meaningless meaningless. all is meaningless. maybe king Solomon was just fuckin depressed when he wrote that. sure sounds like it to me.#I just can't do anything when I'm like this. we're subsistence living now bois.#I wonder if part of my neurological damage is from the lead I used to eat in high school.#the windex shots can't have been good for me. but I don't think that stays in your body the same way #though it did fuck up my urinary tract for a few months. that was wild.#anyway. I wonder how much of my chronic periodic funk is just effects from bad choices and how much is normal natural inevitable.#everything is an ocean. nothing is a lake. the waves are always thirty feet high and the troughs scrape you on the bottom of the reef #nothing is midline except when you're rushing through to one extreme or another.#you're either overstimulated or absent from your body entirely #both of which cause wild and oft unbearable dissociation.#everything gets better and everything gets worse. I'm only like this when I'm stressed. but that's my secret cap (avengers reference)#anyway. I'll survive. I'll make it. I'll live because I need to become even more gay to make my family mad.#I need to keep living so my dad realizes just how much he's lost touch.#so my mom cries about how she should have done something differently so I wouldn't grow up gay. because that makes so much sense right?

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ginkgo-mist · 4 months

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happy new years !

#i’m gonna blow off some steam in the tags bc what just happened to me was definitely an interesting way to end 2023 #a person i had a relationship with and deeply cherish (i knew them for 7 years) just insulted me and said that our whole relationship was #a lie and insulted my art saying it’s shit👍#cried over them for the past 4 month since they ghosted me #but i’m more shocked and angry than sad now #i’m just truly lucky to be surrounded w people that care about me and lift me up #also fuck off. the art comment pissed me off most. so what if it’s bad in your eyes #i have fun making it . that’s why i do it. i don’t care if anyone thinks it’s bad.#anyway hope you all have a good new years! ❤️

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churipu · 5 months

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jjk men & their sleepyhead gf !

featuring. gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, nanami kento x fem! reader

warnings. none, just them being all soft and whipped for you

note. first of all, anon i am so sorry, i accidentally posted your request on the queue list and fml, i'm so embarrassed but idek how to edit the queue list so out of desperation i deleted it— but i ofc screenshotted this before i deleted the og post, so i am so sorry :(( i hope you enjoy this, and i hope you get to find out i didn't delete your ask and it's here in a form of a screenshot :((

GOJO SATORU. i feel like he doesn't mind most of the time— he does mind it if you fall asleep when you're supposed to be paying attention to him >:(

but whenever you fall asleep, his camera's always on standby, snapping pictures of you from every angle. whether you look good or bad (you never look bad btw), from up above, from below, from the left, from the right, with 0.5, i can go on.

and when you wake up, you find your phone blowing up with notifications from shoko, geto, and him, especially with the notification "@gojosatoru tagged you in a post" and it's just a slideshow post of you sleeping, a few close up shots, and your face with different instagram filters.

you don't even bother at this point since he's not going to stop, and not gonna lie, you did find it a bit funny. and the comments from shoko and geto made you laugh, so... good luck trying to sleep around him, you'll wake up to a whole album of you sleeping on his account.

"satoru, what the fuck is this filter?" it was a filter that made your face a little distorted, and gojo'd just sitting there innocently, blinking his white lashes up at you.

"you look adorable, princess."

"i don't want to sleep around you anymore."

"no, please sleep— how am i supposed to continue my daily updates of you sleeping?"

mind you, he has 200 posts on instagram and 150 of them are just you sleeping + with the cheesiest captions like "my baby is sleeping, pls tell her to wake up bcs i miss her 🥺🥺🥺"

and shoko is all up in his comments like "wake her up yourself, dumbass she's literally in your house."

SUKUNA RYOMEN. the first time you fell asleep around him was when he went out to get a glass of water, but he didn't think of it as anything and thought you were just tired.

but no— you fall asleep anywhere, whenever and most of the time. he gets pretty frustrated when you both spend time, and in a bit, your head leans onto his shoulders and sukuna checks on you, and you were out like a light.

"y/n?" soft snores.

he clicks his tongue in annoyance but doesn't push you away or get angry, although he finds you cute. sometimes snaps a few pictures to keep, but you don't know about that.

and at times, you wake up all tucked in your bed—your favorite plushie beside you, and sukuna nowhere in sight.

you open your phone and there's a few text messages from him.

[ you fell asleep, so i left ] he didn't leave, he said that to make you feel bad and for not giving him enough attention— he stayed in the same seated position for a few hours before prepping you onto your bed, tucking you in and not forgetting to place a smooch on your forehead.

[ call me when you wake up ]

[ love you ] awww.

he's so in love with you.

NANAMI KENTO. he's such a gentle soul, he won't mind if you fall asleep or is asleep whenever he comes over. in fact, he enjoys it when you fall asleep.

he read somewhere that if someone feels tired or sleepy around a person, it's because they feel safe. so nanami just concludes that his girlfriend feels safe around him, safe enough for her to get sleepy and fall asleep on him.

"kento," you murmur half-asleep, stretching your arms.

"hm?" he hums out, opening his arms for you to fall into — which you did, and he craddled you in his arms, placing his cheek onto your head.

"night night." it wasn't even night time, you just had to say it before you go to sleep, and nanami finds you so cute he couldn't help but to squeeze you a little.

"night night," he replies back, kissing your forehead.

nanami just sits there and continues craddling you in his arms, and if he needs to go, he would put you on your bed (on his bed when it's his house), and writes you a short message why he needed to go and when he will be back.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #jjk fluff #sukuna ryomen #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #sukuna x reader #female reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 15 days

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strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.

He was totally in love with me.

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.

Spence.

Reality sets in.

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.

Nah. Boys are dumb.

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard.

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again.

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.

“I would.”

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles.

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.

He says none of that.

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.

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