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all-hail-the-witcher · 11 months

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questionable government spies (but better written and 5 years late)

chapter 1: surely the macarena has not been playing for the last 2 minutes without me noticing

words cannot even begin to describe how excited about this i am lets GO :D

___

words: 2800

edited: yes !!

ship: well its either going to be sprace or ralbert and you're all along for the ride

warnings: character death but the death is not real, minor injuries, mentions of the famed walgreens au, deep dish pizza slander, emotionally stubborn race

tags: @jack-kellys @ainti-pretty @boygirlctommy @jack-whatsyourangle @getchapapes @sun-kissed-star (let me know if you want on or off the tag list !!!)

again, big thank yous to katya for bullying me into writing this and my sister for beta-ing and providing chapter titles that have nothing to do with the story

read it on ao3!!

___

Even before Albert crashed his own funeral, Race was having a bad day.

For starters, there had been the paperwork. Always so much paperwork when someone died during a mission. And for what? This was the FBI for fucks sake, there were interns who could be doing this, not him, one of the best field agents in the country.

And there had been the eulogy. What even was a good eulogy these days? A heartfelt poem? A quote from The Fault in Our Stars? A melancholy tiktok dance? Race should have probably known the answer at this point, given that he had written a grand total of seven for Albert, only one and a half of which he had delivered.

Because that was the thing about Albert. He couldn't quite stay dead.

It was the one thing that drove Race absolutely crazy about his best friend. Well, maybe not the one thing. He did have a particularly dreadful habit of chewing all of Race’s pens. But anyway. Race felt bad every time he got the dreaded phone call and shrugged Albert’s death off. For all he knew it could be real this time and he was going to go up in front of his best friend’s casket to renegade while telling everyone what an idiot he had been. But then again. This was his eighth eulogy.

Jack, the newbie field agent that Race and Albert were supposed to be training, did not find Race’s lack of sadness even remotely acceptable. But then again, that was probably Race’s fault for not telling Jack that Albert didn’t like to stay dead.

“I still can’t fucking believe you,” Jack muttered, taking half a glance in Race’s direction as he merged into the exit lane. “Your best friend is fucking dead, you’re going to his fucking funeral, your eulogy is a fucking tiktok dance, and you're playing a fucking fish game.”

In the passenger seat, Race shrugged. “What? I have to feed them or they get sad. And I never actually said I was going to do the renegade.”

“I swear to fucking God Race,” Jack groaned, tears brimming in his eyes. The kid had been crying for the last week, Race was thoroughly impressed that he hadn’t run out of tears by now. “He was basically your brother. At least show some respect.”

Race rolled his eyes. “He’s not my fucking brother. Hell knows I have plenty of those.”

“You know, I’m glad he’s not here to see this,” Jack spat. “If he knew this was what his best friend was really like he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. Fucking sick of you to do this.”

Race continued feeding his fish. They may be silly, but least they weren’t yelling at him.

“I’m going to request a placement change after today, I can’t work with someone who doesn’t even give half of a shit about th-”

Thankfully he was cut off by Race’s phone ringing.

Not so thankfully, it was none other than Race’s arch nemesis on the other end.

“Racetrack Higgins.”

“Davey Jacobs.” Head of the NYC Branch of the FBI, resident asshole and general stick in the mud. He had had it out for Race and Albert since they had been in training and accidentally almost blew up his prized weapons lab.

“I need you and Dasilva to get your asses into my office ASAP.”

“Mmm, see, that might be a bit of a problem.” Race ran his fingers through his hair. “Ain’t nobody tell you that Albert’s dead?”

“Ain’t nobody tell you that I don't care?” Jacobs said, mimicking Race’s accent. “Just because one of you dies doesn’t mean crime stops.”

Race rolled his eyes as Jack pulled up in front of the church. “Ah Davey, good to know despite all your years of work, you still don’t have an ounce of sympathy.”

“You little-”

“And I assume you want me to drive from Chicago to New York cause your ass is too cheap to purchase a plane ticket?”

“If you don’t watch your tongue I’ll have you fired in two minutes flat.”

Race laughed. “My ass will be in your office after my ass goes to my partner's funeral, capishe?” Race threw his phone on the floor and rubbed his temples. He envied Jacobs’s ability to give out headaches like candy. Albert better be fucking alive cause there was no way he was going to New York City by himself.

Jack pulled the key out of the ignition and crossed his arms, staring straight forward. “What was that about?”

“Someone who wanted to talk to me and Albert.”

Jack said nothing.

Race fiddled with the edge of his shirt. Maybe he should say something. But what if Albert was dead? Then he would have gotten Jack’s hopes up too and then Jack would really never forgive him.

“I…I know you’re upset with me,” Race began lamely.

Jack snorted.

“But consider letting me finish your field training?” Race asked. “I know you still got a little ways to go and you got every right to be mad at me but you understand a computer better than I ever will and you’ve been really good backup and-”

“I’ll think about it okay?” Jack interrupted.

Race nodded, staring at his phone on the floor. Boy he sure hoped that Albert was still alive. He did not want this argument to come back and bite him in the ass later.

“Here.” Jack threw a crumpled bow tie at Race. “Put this on.”

“Why?”

“Because even though you may not be acting like it, we are still going to a funeral and you should at least look presentable.”

“Yeah,” Race rolled his eyes but still reluctantly tied the bow tie around his neck. It looked ridiculous with his t-shirt but he didn’t feel like upsetting Jack any more. “Cause this is gonna make all the difference.”

“Just shut up and get out of the car,” Jack muttered. “We’re already almost late.”

•••

The funeral itself was pitiful.

Aside from himself and Jack, the only other people were a handful of elderly women who looked mildly annoyed that their daily rosary praying had been interrupted by the untimely death of a twenty six year old. Race had not held a rosary since he was seventeen, but he was fairly certain one of the ladies was holding it upside down.

And out of all the seven people in the disproportionately massive church, including the priest, Jack was the only one who seemed like he wanted to be there.

Though, the lack of government officials and the fact that it was in a hole in the wall church in the middle of Chicago was a good sign. Perhaps Race wouldn’t have to renegade after all.

Twelve o’clock came and went and no one else entered the church. In fact, a few of the old ladies went as far as to inch further towards the door, hoping that they would be able to sneak out. Race did not blame them.

Whether the priest was waiting for more people to turn up or for the actual casket to make an appearance was hard to say.

“Aren’t there supposed to be government officials here because he died in the line of duty?” Jack whispered. Still, it managed to echo around the church.

Race winced at his lack of discretion. “We forfeited our rights to a fancy funeral when we almost blew up a weapons lab.” It was not the truth, but Jack did not need to know that five years ago Albert had gotten “blown up” and there was a full FBI sponsored funeral done for him, only for him to appear in a tiny hospital in the middle of Arkansas three days later. After that the FBI refused to give Albert a full funeral unless there was a body due to budget cuts. But that was irrelevant.

Jack’s face fell. “Albert always said that he would tell me that story.”

“He was never going to tell you that story.”

“Race,” Jack’s voice was firm. “Would you stop-”

“Thank you for gathering here today in the memory of Albert Dasilva,” the priest began. “Unfortunately the hearse seems to have gotten stuck in traffic and in the interest of making sure our later services start on time, we will just do an abbreviated service with no eulogies when it arrives momentarily. Unless anyone has any objections?”

Jack tries to raise his hand but Race held his arms down. Hearses didn’t just get stuck in traffic. This had Albert’s handiwork written all over it. The priest gave them a mildly amused look but ultimately said nothing.

Jack squirmed out of Race’s grip. “Don’t touch me, Race.”

“Jack I-“

“I said don’t fucking touch me, Antonio.”

Race grit his teeth. He already had to see Jacobs later today and he didn’t want a lecture from him on how you’re not supposed to deck the trainees at fake funeral services. How had Jack even known his name?

Moments later the door of the church slammed open and a ridiculously shiny gold casket was wheeled in. Race barely glanced at it. Maybe he should have told Jack. He liked the kid. This was the first trainee he and Albert had been given and he wanted to do a good job, be to Jack what Blink and Mush had been to him.

Albert would know how to fix this.

Race really hoped that he was outside.

He spent the rest of the hilariously brief service running through every possible outcome of the situation. At worst, Albert was indeed dead and Jack would abandon him. At best, Albert was not dead as Jack would forgive him for the misunderstanding easily. And in between there were seventy three other situations.

Something pointy jabbed Race in the ribs and he looked up to see Jack standing and glaring down at him. Fuck, the processional had already started.

Race wandered out of the church behind Jack in a daze. He fought down nausea as he trudged, absently wrapping and unwrapping his fingers in the chain around his neck.

The sun was blinding. Race squinted through it, trying to scan the parking lot for a familiar blob of red hair, but Jack jumped in front of him.

“Here “ Jack threw the keys to the truck at Race. “I’m done. I’m not getting back in that car with you after whatever just happened in that church. I can’t work with someone who can’t show an ounce of emotion when their best friend dies. You’re a fucking asshole, Race. An absolute, grade A premium-“

“Whoa there cowboy, I don’t condone arguing at my funeral.”

Jack jumped three feet in the air at the sound of Albert’s voice. A weight that Race hadn’t felt before lifted off of his chest at the sight of his best friend.

“Al,” he breathed a sigh of relief and opened his arms to hug Albert.

“Oi! Careful!” Albert warned. “I’m only mostly in one piece.”

“You can never come back to me in perfect working condition can you?” Race felt his stress evaporating as he gently hugged Albert to his chest. He looked like shit and smelled worse “What happened this time?”

“I don't know, I woke up in some fucking Canadian National Park to a moose trying to eat my socks and my shoulder was dislocated. I scared the park ranger shitless then had to hitch hike to the border and almost got stuck there cause they thought my FBI card was fake.”

“...Did the moose dislocate your shoulder?” Race stepped back to examine Albert. Sure enough, he had sloppily tied a shirt around his left shoulder to immobilize it. It didn't look completely correct but Race supposed he should be happy that Albert wasn’t in a hospital. Or even worse, moose food.

Albert half shrugged. “Hell if I know Racer.”

Race tilted his head. “Well then how-”

“Dude what the fuck is wrong with Jack?”

Race turned to see Jack opening and closing his mouth like a fish, eyebrows raised so high they were nearly touching his cornrows.

“Um-”

Albert crossed his arms. “You didn’t tell him, did you.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Race glued his lips together. He’d known Albert for long enough to know that it was better to just say nothing.

“Fucking christ, Antonio.” Albert half kicked him and walked over towards Jack, shooting Race a We’ll Be Talking About This Later Look.

“Hey Jackie-boy, good to see you buddy,” Albert said in the same voice that people use to talk to small children or scared animals.

“Everyone said you were dead,” Jack muttered, eyes wide.

“Who is everyone?”

“Race,” Jack lifted his eyes from Albert momentarily to glare at Race, “The priest, the guy who called Race, I don’t know.”

“Alright buddy,” Albert said. “Lesson one-” “Lesson one is never leave the house without a weapon,” Jack interrupted.

Albert sighed. “Fine then, lesson two-”

“Is always scan your surroundings.” Jack nearly cracked a smile at Albert’s annoyed facial expression. “You’re up to lesson fifty three.”

“Fine. Lesson fifty three. Never believe anyone is dead until you see a body.”

Jack nodded. “I think that’ll be an easy one to remember.”

“Good.” Albert opened his arm. “Now bring it in buddy.”

Jack flew into Albert’s embrace. A distinct sinking feeling started in Race’s stomach when he saw Jack’s shoulders shaking.

“Everyone always leaves.” Jack’s words were muffled but Race could still hear them. “I’m so glad that you didn’t.”

Albert laughed but Race could see the strain in his eyes. “This is like the fourth-”

“Eighth,” Race whispered.

“Eighth time this has happened. I don’t think that I am going anywhere anytime soon.”

Jack nodded into Albert’s shirt and gave him one more light squeeze, which Albert tried and failed not to wince at before pulling away.

“Now that we got that settled,” Albert said, turning to Race. “I would love nothing more than to go to Walgreens and get some advil, the good cold medicine because Canada’s fucking freezing and I think it’s going to catch up to me soon and a real sling, some mediocre deep dish pizza and to go back to the safe house and sleep for three days.”

“Yes to the first two but you’re going to have to sleep in the car,” Race said.

Albert dropped his head back and groaned. “Don’t tell me they reassigned us already, I only just came back to life.”

“Mmmm no its far worse.” Race placed his hand on Albert’s good shoulder. “Jacobs wants us in his office.” Albert blinked once, twice, three times before giving in. “FUCK.”

“Yeah,” Race said. There was nothing else to say about that.

“Don’t tell me he wants us there tomorrow.”

“He wanted us there today. “Who the hell is Jacobs?”

“Not now Jack,” Race and Albert said at the same time.

“And we have to drive?” Albert asked. “And we have to drive.” Race confirmed.

“Well fuck me sideways with a fucking spork.” Albert groaned again for good measure. “Doesn’t he think I’m dead?”

“This is Davey Jacobs,” Race said. “Death means nothing to him.”

“Is no one going to tell me who this guy is?” Jack asked again, louder this time.

“Jackie,” Albert said, “When we’re on hour thirteen of this drive you’re going to be regretting asking that question.”

“He can’t be that bad.” “He is,” Race said.

“You owe me at least a whole pizza for this,” Albert said, jabbing Race in the chest with his finger. “With extra meat.”

“I didn’t expect anything less,” Race smiled. Sure he was not happy they had to go deal with whatever crap Jacobs was going to throw at him, but at least he had his best friend back.

“And another one when we get to the city!” He yelled over his shoulder as he followed Jack to the car. “I’ve missed my 99 cent pizza.” Race rolled his eyes. “You can literally get it for free cause Vinny loves you.”

“Wait, we’re going to New York City?” Jack asked

“I thought you wanted a placement change?” Race said, crossing his arms.

“I- Well- I guess I-“

“Look buddy,” Albert said. “Race is shit at communicating. He will never admit it, but he is. But you can’t blame him for not wanting to get your hopes up. This is a hard field to be in, nothing is guaranteed and nothing is ever as it seems. That being said, we would love to have you on whatever Jacobs has planned for us cause I can guarantee you it is going to be one absolute hell of a ride. And even though Race won’t admit it, he likes having you around.”

“I never said I didn’t,” Race muttered.

Jack considered. “I’ll come, but only mostly because my best friend is training in New York. I’m still kinda pissed at Race.”

“Welcome to the club, buddy,” Albert laughed, giving Jack a fist bump.

Race just rolled his eyes. It was pointless to argue at this point.

“This better be a relaxing ride, Race,” Albert said, ignoring Jack. “I want no shenanigans.”

“I make no promises.”

___

AHHH WE ARE SO BACK BABY !!!

stay tuned to see the boys entering the city :O

#saphie scribbles #spies 2.0 #newsies #newsies fic #newsies fanfic #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #sprace #ralbert

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eridude · 7 months

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hello from xenostuck central,,

1 - for the ship bingo i bring you great tidings of rosemary + pbj

2 - would you accept fankids / fantrolls for art requests?

ROSEMARY:

THEY ARE LITERALLY THE GIRLFRIENDS EVER. i am so attached to this ship and i am so attached to kanaya (one of my top 10 most cried over Homestuck characters genuinely). i love rosemary shenanigans. i love how utterly perfect they are for each other i love how they interact and how they banter and how they talk and how kanaya is quite possibly the most disastrously slightly awkward sweetheart whenever it comes to rose. ALSO THEY'RE BOTH SO SILLY?? like yes they are also sophisticated ladies tm but they get up to their fair share of goofery and being total dorks and i think we as a society need to appreciate that.

it's quite possibly the Most Canon Ship in all of homestuck proper, and one of the least controversial ones as well(although i have sensed a vriskan uprising in the fandom lately so perhaps there will be war. who's to say./j). but like yeah. rosemary is fantastic. no notes. also, the epilogues make me sad. extremely extremely sad and also upset.

EDIT I FORGOT YOUR SECOND QUESTION: the answer is yes probably as long as its homestuck related my urge to draw it is nigh unbeatable. so if any of yall have fantrolls/fankids .... :333

#homestuck #ship bingo #rosemary #god i need to draw rose and kanaya more

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libunityfan69 · 2 years

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why auscap.. whys he australian… i need to know this lore.. it keeps me up at night

glad u asked because im so insane but everyone* i talk to just accepts auscap without question and it hnngngh

so for a little backstory it started in september last year** when i went away with a family friend who had also watched centricide and i asked "wouldnt it be funny if ancap centricide was australian" and there wasnt a single thought behind our eyes when we unaimoiusly agreed yes that would be funny and que the next 2 or so months of being the most annoying headcanoner ever but hey it was fun.

at the same time i was in 9th grade english class in australia and our topic was poetry analysis of silly bogans pre/during the gold rush and the more we analysed the more i was like "hey this shits kinda like ancap centricide" because idk if you have ever been in an australian english/history class but theres a lot of talk about the "[white] australian identity" mainly around when brits began moving here outside of sendign their convicts and during ww1. and the australian identity is mostly centred around being somewhat anti authoritarian and while not technically based in capitalism it was about rich british people getting a taste of the bush and not shutting up ever

because of [white] australias history being in the convicts sent over from england theres an intrinsic sense of anti authoritarianism that was albiet a lot more common in the 19th and 20th centuries but i digress its still relevant idc because it was used in these little bushmen shit where they would idolise this life living outside the government at the time

so the poem that we used for the exam at the end of year 9 english unit 4, while i dont rember the name of the poem nor the writer, i do remember what it was about and what it was about was this guy writing for 6 fucking pages about the bush and how it was so cool and literally made for him he loves it so much and at the back of the pages there was a little biography of the author and you find out that this fucking guy hadnt stepped foot in australia before turning thirty, hes some rich fucking english bloke who came over for the gold rush and left almost immediatly after. the poem we were analysing came from a guy who had never even seen the bush !!! and idk i think thats pretty ancap core

and for a last round of background info from september-november 2021 i actually dmed jreg back n forth about it and ended up getting jrem to confirm auscap as real, and it was real for a whole month before the gender tier list stream on twitch where i asked and jre said that ideologies cant have nationalities um !!! thats not what u told me in dms !!!! also i didnt have any socials at the time that interacted with the centricide fandom apart from my discord so if u were in the authunity server i am NOT sorry for being so annoying about it

tl:dr white australian history is anarcho capitalist also i thought it would be funny

*everyone excludes ps, the owner of the athunity server, who hated auscap so much he banned the use of the word "australia" in the server, fuck you ps-and nankeen and riley, my australian buddies who actually inquired on auscaps existence yall r real ones (i havent talked to nankeen in 8 months)

**i say september because TECHNICALLY the headcanon + first dm to jreg happened in late spetember but i celebrate the anniversary on the 8th of october because that was when my sister edited the image of ancap and made auscap into something tangeble

#MY GOD ty for asking i didnt realise i had so much to say #this is why i associate ancap with my 9th grade english class #not that ive ever told anyone that lol #jreg #ancap centricide #auscap #why am i getting asked auscap lore and not centricide hamilton au lore please please please ask me i have a 6600 word lore document to say

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nobodysdaydreams · 2 years

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Mysterious Benedict Society Liveblog Season 2 Episode 1 A Perilous Journey

Well boys and girls. Here I am again procrastinating (or taking a well deserved break- I suppose it's a matter of interpretation) to hopefully watch a clinically insane man try to hit some children with a golf cart. Yes, I know 2 episodes came out today, but with my schedule being what it is, we're gonna have to do these one at a time and skip the recaps. Alrighty let's go!

4:00- so far so good. Loving the kids in their new homes. Where is my girl Constance though?

5:00- Why the heck does he have a big banner of himself on the side of the building? What happened to being in disgrace and in exile? Now the man is appearing on the news. I thought the point was that they stopped the whisper from making people think he fixed the emergency, now he takes credit anyway? How? Why? What? At this point he's just messing with them.

5:40- oh my gosh he's throwing our girl under the bus, RIP Garrison I hope you come back but this might be it for you. Does this mean Curtain stole her invention and just yeeted her off the boat when SQ's back was turned? We're not even 10 minutes in and I have so many questions.

6:30- Um... what... Is he hypnotizing people with his mind? Does he have psychic powers now? YES BEAT HIM UP CONSTANCE!!! ah dang it. She'll get him eventually.

8:00- Curtain is on the loose, I'd be hung up on the injustice too. Not that scavenger hunting and woodworking doesn't have its place but there is like. A dangerous man at large. He's not exactly hiding. What's stopping you?

9:00- "Are you even invited to speak?" "I'm an esteemed scientist." "It's not an open mic" sljfkdsjfdf- If that isn't me at every academic conference. "Who is mocking me"- oh no poor benedict. PFFFT "Not even a high level conference" I love #2.

10:15- Uh oh they got them. Um... No sure why considering Curtain seems to have gotten away with it and no one on the team besides Benedict is trying to stop Curtain, and people think he's crazy. Why invest resources into kidnapping them?

10:33- AWE MILLIGAN! Kate, come on. He's trying. it's been years, but that wasn't his fault. YES YOU SHOULD GET YOUR OWN BUCKET MILLIGAN. It would be adorable.

12:00- Oh my gosh are we doing the Sticky abandoning his friends plotline AGAIN. We did this. Come on the show does so much right please don't rewind his character development he deserves more.

13:00- Awe Constance being so happy to see Reynie. And yes thank you- did you really never discuss Constance destroying that machine with her mind? You had a year. I get there were other things to figure out but still.

15:00- Ready or not here comes the plot!

16:00- "all our efforts" = yelling into landline phones in different languages. Seriously I have a draft about this, but they have the tech for brain sweeping and mind control, why is everyone (even Curtain) using land lines? If he wants to be famous and powerful, the man could have just made an iphone.

17:25- "maybe down a well. Maybe into a propeller." Geez, Constance has already accepted this. OR AT LEAST FIND THE WELL, yikes.

19:26- Yes back to Curtain's shenanigans. Oh my gosh I love how he planned little snacks for them, just to flex his meal prep skills. And the fact that he knew they would hit that part of the car and made a compartment to open like that- the level of detail this man has gone into for his silly little schemes is quite impressive.

20:20- could be a benefactor, oh boy he is in denial

21:00- There is no system. Yeah, basically my house.

21:30 (about)- Mail delivery, "Just a random example" oh my gosh are Sticky and Reynie about to have it out? Was sticky not getting his letters? So... they're actually ok then and there is no conflict here?

22:30- "not dad roommate". Oh the parallels between Constance and Curtain's lack of vulnerability are coming and I love them. If they give him psychic powers too, it's all really gonna come together. Oh no Milligan, poor guy he's trying so hard. Perhaps he could bond with Kate by providing the backstory of what happened to his wife/Kate's mom (when he remembers it).

26:00- Mr. Benedict would never ask us to desecrate a book- well he literally just did that to put a book inside a book unless he used a fake book.

28:30- Oh hello creepy women staring at the children in a car with no expression. You're unsettling.

29:00- Rhonda and Milligan and Ms. Perumal really should have known better than to leave them alone like that.

29:50- "who knows what danger they could be in" good point Reynie. At this very moment, Curtain might be force feeding them another round of snacks to try to impress his brother with his superior culinary skills.

30:40- Alright! sneaking on the ship. Love the call back to when Constance did that last time.

31:00 - I'm sorry what. What. Why. What. I just want the camera to zoom out and show a employee like "oh my boss is being weird again"... AH YES THERE HE IS!

32:00- At least they gave us a nice breakfast. I KNEW IT. This man may hate you, but he hates you not knowing how good he is at meal prep more, so you know you're gonna eat good. Ah there he is happy as a clam driving his little cart. Yes #2 kill him. Okay Curtain sounds a bit out of it. Is he feeling the effects of Garrison's invention too? He seems less uptight but more unhinged since we last saw him. Which I love.

33:20- this isn't like Reynie. It's just like Kate. Yep, they know their kids. Now go get them!

And that's episode 1 of season 2. I'll post episode 2 later when I get the chance but overall a great start. Still need to know where Martina is. Still need to know where SQ is. STILL NEED JUSTICE FOR MY GIRL GARRISON UNLESS SHE'S BEEN PULLING THE STRINGS THE WHOLE TIME. And also seriously, can we have Benedict met SQ already? Alright, that's it for now.

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spreadwardiard · 11 months

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5, 6, 12, 14, and 30 please! I would love to hear what you have to say in response to those questions :)

What do you wish someone would ask you about Crossing the Line? Answer it now! I wish someone would ask about Megatronus' and Orion's flirting ohhh my goodness. It is one of my favorite aspects of that AU I haven't really gotten to write much about yet. Their primary means of flirting with one another is a silly game between them that starts after A New Kind of Word Sparring. It becomes like a game for them and many of their debates past this point devolve into a contest to see who can get the other's fans blowing first. Megatronus is surprised that Orion wins about half the time.

What’s one fact about the universe of Naught But a Ghost that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

I never got a chance to mention Megatron and Orion Pax's friendship with Soundwave, and I haven't really had a chance to explore that yet in the follow up pieces either. Soundwave is Megatron's amica and also a good friend of Orion's. I wanted to explore that in that fic but just could not make it fit right. which segues into another fact about Soundwave in that universe: he is the one who guides Orion on Kaoni courtship traditions and pushes Megatronus into accepting Orion's clumsy attempts at pursuing him romantically. two for one! Another thing though I never mentioned in that fic is that Orion actually cares a great deal for the whole of the Decepticon army as well as their sympathizers. He is their leader's Conjunx after all, and even after Megatron renounces that role at the end of the war, Orion never stops seeing the Decepticons as his people.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

This kinda depends how we are defining 'tropes'. If we go with the defintion : "something such as an idea, phrase, or image that is often used in a particular artist's work, in a particular type of art, in the media, etc." then the answer is mechpreg. When i first started reading Transformers fic I did not care for it at all, I was hypercritical of it because it felt too organic for me, but it kept showing up in fics I was reading and i enjoy it now as much as I enjoy the more asexual methods of mech reproduction. (Like, i know my first 2 fics mention it, but thats because this trope change happened BEFORE I started writing for Transformers. though... I started reading Transformers fics like... the week before I started writing for it so this change happened pretty quickly, but its the biggest trope I can think of really that I can think of that my mind changed on.)

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

XDXD Yes. And it's actually YOU, my friend, who writes it! In The Many Lives of Optimus Prime one of the major tropes is reincarnation, and I am really uninterested in reading other's takes on this trope to be honest. (sorry everyone else, I am only being honest 😅😅😅)

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

YES. Pretty much all of 2 Sides to a Coin is somewhat outside my comfort zone! The biggest thing is that I have almost always been an exclusively NSFW writer and this AU is SFW, This made me have to really think about other ways to express intimacy, emotional bonds and physical closeness, which has made my ability to write romance in general much better than it was before.

#spreadwardiardthoughts #fanfiction #fanfic #writing asks

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blackmonitor · 2 years

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It’s time to reconvene The Asker’s Studio™️ because I’ve got questions!

It is my exceedingly good fortune @blackmonitor that you are reading @myevilmouse Conflicting Aesthetics at same time I am, so that I reap the benefits of your artistic talents. In chapter 3, Mouse drops a heavy paragraph relating the frustrations that our artist, Seta, is experiencing whilst sketching Thrawn:

It wouldn’t be perfect. That was the problem with truly fascinating subjects. Capturing his aura was the best she could hope for. Thrawn, even half-naked, exuded command. The sense of power, a demeanor of authority was prevalent, almost but not completely camouflaging a latent vulnerability. Not self-consciousness, something else. Seta could see it, imagined Thrawn would deny it existed, but wouldn’t be content until its flavor was imbued in the lines of her art. It was the sum total, everything wrapped in a charismatic fog of mystery, emphasizing the thing that made him most alien—which also made him intriguing and attractive beyond the physical.

I asked the omniscient Mouse if she was 1. An artist 2. If she was, was this description from experience? The answer was No on both counts. WHUT?! I am not satisfied with this answer. I need to know MORE!

So my dear honest to goodness real artist: Could you please reflect on the paragraph above from an artist’s point of view.

Hint: short answers are not acceptable (jk) 🤣

For those of you who have not seen the portrait that Seta was frustrated over, @blackmonitor has done us the great favour and rendered it for us, exquisitely. (Check out all of her work - it’s pure gold yummy greatness)

Portrait courtesy of @blackmonitor

As always: you have the floor. Thank you for the generosity of your time and talent!

Welcome! Oh wow… Let me just…

“So my dear honest to goodness real artist...”

Oh yes, that paragraph! That was chilling! And I had the opportunity to read it as a lost artist who didn't draw anything for YEARS, and now, as someone who brought joy to many people with my silly drawings. In both cases, it touched something in my soul.

First of all, let me talk about the method of my drawings - not the technical details I already described here.

So art, for me, is about communication - communicating something to the viewer, even in a portrait or anything. It should tell a story, an emotion, or just some vibes to the viewer. Otherwise, it has no point (according to my point of view, but this is highly subjective, so forgive me if yours are different).

For example, take my first Thrawn portrait.

Before I started to draw it, I wondered what I should draw - how to draw him. Back then, I read the first Ascendancy book, so it was obvious that I wanted to see him in that uniform. So when I found my reference from the comic, I changed it to communicate what I wanted - a man destined for greatness who failed.

But how? Well, my method is this - in mind, I became that person (like writers do it). I imagine how he would act, what he would feel… general things. And when I can see that back from my display, I'm happy. Like Seta, I always put my interpretation of the character into the drawing - the posture, the expression, and emotion. @myevilmouse did a beautiful work of describing all those things and the struggle!

The overall vibes and emotions are always superior to the technique or realism in my art. I want to communicate basic understandings in a pleasant form. Sometimes this works better, and sometimes it's not. But I always worked like this even before I did fanarts. So for me, Seta's struggle is real! But I never tried to reach hyperrealism 🤭 That's not for me. Swift projects, maybe a few days on them, move on to something different.

Similarly, in writing, @myevilmouse wrote down beautifully the struggle of sketching someone sitting in front of you, and you know almost nothing about him. In cases like that, I usually use my imagination. Fill out the gaps. I have a basic knowledge of personalities which I use these times. And while I am drawing someone, I'm always thinking about them - not necessarily them in the picture, but other different situations - filling those gaps in my mind.

The goal for me is to put something into the picture. When that something is "looking back to me," I'm happy. Maybe it's something only I can sense, Idk. But that's my goal, similar to what Seta felt as @myevilmouse described it.

For me, Thrawn is a fascinating individual to draw - because he is a great character! And there is so much potential in him.

Thank you for this opportunity to share my thought about this exciting subject!

#ask #asnwer #ask box #blackmonitor #too long answer #my method of drawing #The Asker’s Studio™️

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fishstickfeind · 2 years

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HEY BUDDY!!! I got so much to ask and say to you!

1. What’s your favorite episode of Cotr?

2. Who’s your favorite character in the cars franchise?

3. What is a random fact that not many people know about?

4. What is your favorite movie in the Cars franchisee?

5. DID YOU WATCH THE PLANES FILMS?!?!??

—-—————————————————

I have so many screenshots I want to give so accept them all!

——————————————

AND FINALLY! Can we call if Discord later and play Roblox?

Hope you have a good morning!

HIIII!!! ITS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIINN!!!

1. I’d say the B-Movie or Salt Fever!! Both bring out a lot of emotions in me and are really funny to me cndndjgjsj Definitely like those a lot, and the Trucks episode is also really good!! I like the episodes so much it’s hard to pick just one!

2. Oh man this is a real hard question for me!! I have a lot of characters I really enjoy and picking just one almost feels impossible!! I’d say my reasonably favorites are Finn and Mater and Cal and my unreasonably favorites are Chick and Jackson!! (Reasonably and unreasonably because I can reasonably justify why I like Finn and Mater but not why I like Chick and Jackson nfndnsjak) but theres a lot of others I really like!!!

3. I don’t know how many people know about this, but DJ’s real name is apperently Devon Montegomery Johnston III. I think The people at Cars like using the name Montegomery apperently fndnksndjfjdnd. I probably have a few more silly facts somewhere in my brain cause I love going through the cars fandom wiki pages when I’m bored in class hehe

4. Man you ask me so many questions that get my brain churning!! /nm hhhmmmmm I think the second movie!! I really like all the movies but in the first and third movie I normally rewatch them as a distraction or to quote them or to see a specific scene, while in the second movie I rewatch the whole of it a lot just for sillies and hardly ever skip scenes in it!

5. AJDNSKJAJD I WATCHED THE FIRST ONE AND I WILL PROBABLY WATCH THE SECOND ONE TOO!!! Not gonna lie, almost cried at a few parts, and it takes a good movie to get me emotional over it

Thank you so so much for the screenshots!!! I am a sucker for screenshots I shall add them to my collection >:D!!!

YES WE CANN!! As of when I’m answering this ask I’m free and we certainly can call and play roblox!!!

I hope you had a good day.!! Sorry this took me a bit to get to!!

#i mightve gotten a litttllee carried away while writing this😅#i seem to have trouble picking things ajajsidjf #have fun reading all of that ajsjsjsjdjkfkg #this is what you get for asking me questions about things im hardcore about /lh #artist-fan146

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phantom-does-a-thing · 1 year

Note

for the ask game: 32 13 26 29 24 11 34 17 18 5 35 30 33 39 16 31 68 10 7 19 3 36 50 20 4 21 12 25 28 15 38 1 23 37 9 27 2 14

tee hee

SCREW YOU I AM ANSWERING THEM IN THE ORDER YOU SENT THEM.

32) How do you feel about smut? I am asexual so its kind of nasty to me but I also have morbid curiosity

13) What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across? UH I think the best writing advice I've ever seen is the one about practicing a ton because that's really just what it is. "Write what you want no matter how cringe or if you think no one will enjoy it because there will always be at least one person that will enjoy it" Write for yourself and keep practicing, write whatever you want.

26) Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you? no if you try and make me edit my fics I will kill you

29) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose? I don't know if I would write anything like a continuation of a fic but I do enjoy asking to write something inspiried by other people bc like its silly anyway let me see.

I don't know if I would want to write a continuation to this fic bc the author does it SO well and I don't think I could do it any better but its such a good series that I OUGH

24) Have you ever deleted one of your published fics? yes. I have deleted everything on my fanfiction.net account which I don't remember how many fics was published, about 14 I think but I deleted all of them. I do not want to say what they are on tumblr but Sky, you know

11) Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby? this is my passion I am a writer, I would not be Phantom if not writing, I am a writer first and foremost and a person second

34) What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con? ICK ICK ICK ICK ICK ICK ICK why is this a question

17) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? Start to finish usually, sometimes I start writing a scene and then that just becomes the whole fic because then I just don't write an actual beginning to the scenes

18) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines? no? I do not know what tools these would be

5) Share one of your strengths. descriptions are my favorite thing ever they are my babygirls I love Descriptsions. I also am really good at subtly changing perspectives in the middle of fics, is this a good skill to have? idk it depends on the fic. But I think its cool.

35) Would you ever kill off a canon character? would I kill a character like IN canon or would I kill a canonical character in a fic? bc in canon the only character I would genuinely kill is Filipe bc I hate him so much. But also I have written character death fics, I might write one for bitb but that's just gonna be canon adjacent so not really. I won't normally kill a character outside of it

30) Do you accept prompts? If you do it in the comment of a fic, no I will probably be very annoyed by you. But honestly like yeah sometimes. Mutuals can send me fic ideas at any point in time, I might not write them but like yeah I do accept prompts I just might not write them

33) How do you feel about crack? I don't really like it, I don't hate it but some of it just straight up feels like shock factor for shock factor. I've only w ritten it once and never again.

39) Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them? No, I don't ever actually get hate but I do just get really really weird comments sometimes and I do not understand them and they are just weird

16) If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be? uh oh no. Either Nightmare blunt rotation or polypd

31) Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant? Canon is mere guidelines and I very rarely follow them lol. With Riptide I do not understand canon enough to make a ton of canon adjacent fics, same thing w Prime defenders. I just very rarely understand canon enough to actually w rite something adjacent

68) you are just giving me fake numbers

10) Which fic has been the easiest to write? I don't know like any specific fic, but fluff is very easy for me to write just because it takes the least mental energy to create. It's silly and I like writing it. Usually a good bit of my fluff fics were probably really easy to write, I cannot remember any specific fic that was easy.

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Something human (and yet it wasn’t), something alive, something dead (something that wasn’t supposed to be dead or alive), a monster, a spirit, a demon. Something not right, not normal… unfamiliar. Something unsavory, blasphemous, corrupted. Something incomprehensible.

Something that didn’t belong because saturation didn’t belong. Colors didn’t belong because everyone had forgotten what colors are like. Everyone forgets what colors they were supposed to be when the memories were long faded. The only color they ever had was white, the white of bones. The darkness of the churning clouds or the gray of the swaying grass.

And yet. Still, something that did belong. Because it too was a memory, a faded… flickering memory. Its form was so corrupted by the flames it was consumed in that the fading shone differently. It was different. It was unknown. It had no idea where it was supposed to be or what it was supposed to be doing. It didn’t know what it was. Just a flickering mass of something that used to be. An ember, a glowing, blue ember that spreads like droplets of blood in a lake.

A remnant, a memory (a dream created by a much more powerful creature), a ghost, a spirit, a human, a monster, or some unholy blasphemy against god. What was it supposed to be?

Its face was shrouded in a blue that was much too saturated, a color that was too bright. It made it impossible to see its features or what it was supposed to look like. It didn’t even know what it was supposed to look like. Who it was supposed to be. What it was supposed to be. Human? It took the vague shape of a human. But shapes and forms were misleading… shaky… wrong… Formation didn’t make sense here. Anything could pose as a human when there weren’t the same laws to confine them. But it was sure that it was supposed to look human.

What was it supposed to look like? What form was it supposed to take? The flickering blue flames that corrupted it seem to glow a little brighter as if reinforcing their claim over its trembling form.

This isn't my favorite piece of prose because that's a very very hard thing to choose but from this fic which I am genuinely very proud of because I REALLY love this fic and I think that the prose is super fun. I just wanted to make it as spacy and confusing as possible like you do not know what is going on throughout the entirety of it. I also really like the juxtaposition of all the different phrases to describe William because he doesn't know what he is or what he is supposed to be so it's just very very confusing and it's like that on purpose.

19) Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse? ????????? Stephen king is an interesting man. I guess my muse is JRWI bc that's what I've been writing the most fic over I suppose, these characters are my muse.

3) Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole? soulmate aus. I hate it so much

36) Which is your favorite site to post fic? archive of our own

50) you are literally just sending me fake numbers bestie

20) Describe your perfect writing conditions. Average temperature, not to warm, not too cold, a nice cushioned chair and possibly a blanket, my water bottle within reach and nothing in my body hurting ever because it will be kind to me, having the blinds open with the sun shining and the window open so I can have fresh breeze

4) How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them? UH quite a few, I constantly have fic ideas in my head I am always thinking of new things to write and new things to do. One of my current ideas that I dont know if I will post is William body horror poking n proding in organs

21) How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting? Usually I don't, I'll just write it, throw it through grammarly and then post it

12) Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more? an episode? Like just any episode of anything? UH?????? I have no idea genuinely. I do not remember any episodes of anything ever. I guess episode 3 of bitb? idk

25) What do you look for in a beta? a non corporeal form (I do not look for a beta)

28) Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much. NYXXXXXXXXXX NYX NYX NYX NYX I love Nyx's writing so so so so so so so much oh my god all of its writing makes me absolutely insane its just sooooo good and I love it dearly. All of its fics are just so soft and theres something so whimsical about the writing style that just makes me ough

PeriPerson VERY Good writing I eat it so much. Something about their wrting just makes me sooo oough its described so well and I love the writing style

Achilleshq MRrrbghghgmmg descriptions so good very very very good Their writing is just ogmuguhghjhx <3

15) If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose? do you recognize the bodies in the water I am just very proud of this fic and I think that it would make a cool film

38) Talk about a review that made your day. Got asked if I ever considered a career as an author and that made me very very happy because YES! I HAVE! That's my dream job and has been since I was a kid and it really made my day to be asked that

1)Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic. characters cuddling, soft touches, over indulgent descriptions, focusing way too much on describing one thing. UHH. Probably only two characters because I have a hard time writing more than that at once.

23) If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why? I would revise my first pjo fic on ao3 because it's like 200 words cuddling fic thats very bad and I want to see how much better I can do because I know how to describe now and I know how dialogue works and I want to see how I could do it differnetly.

37) Talk about your current wips. For the fnaf bitb au I'm planning on at least two more chapters for it with just describing all the spooky stuff happening at night and I am very excited to write it because unlike the games, Rand is not confined to the office and can and will walk around the pizzaria which is gonna be a little silly goofy also the animatronics just make me a little tee hee. This isn't really a WIP because I have no actually writing on paper but I want to write more apotheosis fics

9) Which fic has been the hardest to write? the halloween fic. I don't know why it's so hard but I cannot write it oh my god it haunts me. But if we;'re going off of completed fics that was really hard to write u8h The fic I wrote with the alternate ending to pd ep 10 was also pretty hard just because I couldn't figure out how I wanted to write that or whatever idk I'm so exhausted rn. this fic

27)How do you feel about collaborations? I am not good at working with other people also I don't really know what a collaboration would be or how to do one so. I guess not well? Idk???? I am a solo kind of guy

2) Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to? not really a trope but I think I need to write more toxic relationships it's very interesting to me, that and more smoking fics. I wanna write a shotgunning fic tbh but I just have not gotten around to do that. What else have I not done that I want to do? IDK what tropes are there?????

14) What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across? Something something don't use said or whatever, the show don't tell argument because it's super nuanced and usually any sort of writing advice giving that show don't tell thing is not going to describe in enough detail to actually be beneficial because there are SO Many nuances behind it. Uh, I don't really listen to writing advice because I am self confident and a bit of an egotist when it comes to writing so that's probably it.

I am so freaking tired you can probably see my deteriorating state as this list goes on, I don't even know what one you left off all I know is I am so tired.

#syrup tag #asks #ask games #mutuals #rambling #phever dreams with phantom #liveblogs writing

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bunni-v1 · 2 years

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🍓Hello darlings!

Welcome to my humble blog! My name is Bunni (she/they/he)— you can call me any rendition of that, whatever you can come up with is fine — and I’ll be your writer. I’m a “veteran writer” (feels silly considering how old I actually am) on tumblr, but I haven’t actually written anything in almost two years now. Since this is an entirely new blog for an entirely new me I definitely need to do some proper introductions!

Who is Bunni?

Well, I’m an eighteen year old college student as of right now. I plan on attending college for the next four years, though my major is undecided, it’s likely I’ll end up in something to do with East Asian culture. I will be spending my summers working at my sub-par, but well paying job, and writing here in my free time. I love to write (obviously), draw, and sing! Twst is my current special interest, but other media I like (but tend to avoid the fandoms for) are Genshin Impact, Obey Me, Project Sekai and quite a few anime. If you have any questions about me, just ask!

Who are Bunni’s favorite twst characters?

To keep it simple, I’ll list my top three with a little explanation (spoilers for chapters 1-4):

1. Azul Ashengrotto - I took one look at this man and fell in love. Azul isn’t exactly my type design wise, the only thing thats consistent with all my faves is the white hair, but his personality and backstory are really what makes me love him so much. Something about him being a huge asshole who has a lot of trauma and is only using a front to get along in life is so... yum. It’s just yum to me. The bullying is something I could relate to a lot with him, and I really like it when fictional men are unhinged and mean. God I could kiss him. Anyway, I could actually go on for hours about Azul so I’ll leave it there.

2. Vil Schoenheit - I was a Vil hater at first -- honestly most of us were, even if you say you aren’t you’re definitely a liar. I think he grew on me a lot after reading cards and finally watching chapter six. The biggest thing that both icked me out and drew me to him was the way he represented his own gender. A gender fluid queen, honestly. When I started twst I wasn’t all that confident and comfortable in my gender identity yet, I hadn’t had anyone or anything affirm it. Then Vil came along and it scared the fuck out of me, then seeing more of him helped me grow to love him and slowly accept who I was. Really fucking lame, I know.

3. Floyd and Jade Leech - NO I AM NOT LUMPING THEM TOGETHER BECAUSE THEY’RE TWINS, OKAY??? I’m lumping them together because I literally cannot pick which one I like more, okay? Anyway, both of them are silly funny goofy, absolute sillies. I really like how their personalities are foils of each other. Jade is the seemingly normal innocuous one while Floyd is the scary unhinged one, when its literally the opposite when they let their true colors show. Like, yes Floyd is a little silly in the head, but Jade is literally exactly what Floyd presents himself as. Meanwhile, Floyd just wants to go with the flow and vibe. I like them.

What are Bunni’s boundaries?

I’m terrible at talking about my boundaries, but I suppose I’ll add them later as I go. The biggest one, though, is that when I say ‘no’ I mean it. I do not take well to being pressured. I have the right to refuse any request, and I may or may not write yours. If I chose not to write yours, respect that. Arguing gets us nowhere.

Finally, enjoy your time spent on this blog. Please feel free to ask me any questions about myself or my blog — twst related or not. Thank you for reading my darlings! 🍓

#introduction #bunni babbles - 🍓

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sweetsbfreex · 3 years

Text

a styles vacation to Hawaii

Summary: a little continuation of this family. The styles take a vacation to Hawaii with mild bumps in the road.

a/n: no warnings, but harry is not famous in this. I’ve never been to Hawaii and do not much of the hawaiian attire/culture, i just did research and put what i found. If there’s any misconceptions or if i’ve offended anyone by accident pls lmk!

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Harry

“Honey, you have to let go so we’re not late for the plane” Harry grunts, trying to stealthily pull Ava away from her hold on Milo.

“No! We can’t leave Mimi” she cries out, cuddling her face into the pup’s fur even more.

“Mimi has to stay with nan, honey” From his tone you can tell he’s losing patience.

It’s a definite eyesore. The whole situation takes place on your mother's porch. You were all meant to say your goodbyes before the three of you–– no Milo–– go off on a small vacation to Hawaii.

Ava is holding on to the australian shepherd, not letting up one bit. You would think she glued herself onto him without anyone knowing, with how she latched on.

Milo in front of your mother's feet, enjoying what he thinks is a hug it seems. Only letting out long whines when Ava's sobs get out of control.

Harry is standing behind Ava, bent at the wait trying to pry her off her best friend.

You're crouched beside her, a hand on her back, trying to convince her to let go.

Ava's poor grandmother stands in the doorway. A look of agony on her face as she watches it all go down.

The–– now three year old–– has been throwing a hissy fit in the car, holding onto Milo's paw. Ever since Harry informed her how they were going to her nan's house to drop off Milo and then hurry to the plane. She saw the news like a terrible taste in her mouth, while she stared at you both in the rearview mirror eyes widened.

You know how much the two love each other, but you didn't expect her to throw a fit like this.

“Ava I know you’re upset but, you gotta let go honey so Mimi can have fun with grandma. Don’t you want to go on the airplane, hm? Weren’t you excited about it?” You ask her, beginning to unclasp one hand and go for the other, trying to bring into your arms.

But with quickness, she remembered the only way she would be able to go on this vacation. Without Milo, she wraps her arms around Milo again.

“Baby, Milo has to stay. Dog’s aren’t allowed in Hawaii” At this moment, Harry is willing to try anything.

“They’re not?” she asks, tilting her head back a little to see her father’s face.

“Nope, Milo won’t have fun there. He’ll have more fun with Nana” he tells her, bringing his thumbs down to wipe away the tears.

“...I wanna stay with Mimi!”

Milo doesn’t eject this idea, letting his chin rest on her small shoulder. You and Harry huff in frustration, glancing at each other. Your mother...well she’s had enough of whatever foolishness you and H are pulling right now.

“Okay enough of this” your mother starts, gaining everyone’s attention. “Ava, honeybee, Tell Milo and your grandma see you later and let go of him so you can have fun on your trip with your parents.” She says this with a stern, yet loving tone. Down to business and nothing else.

“Yes nana” she mumbles, placing a few kisses to Milo’s cheek and glides to your mom.

You and Harry look at each other in an instant, eyes wide at the way your mother fixed the problem in less than a minute. A mutual look of what the fuck, as in the what the fuck were you possibly doing wrong.

“Thanks mum.” Harry says sheepish, looking at the calming little one swaying in your mother’s arms.

“Yeah thanks mom” you say, standing up straight.

“No problem, Now get going, before she fusses again”

You all exchange your see you laters. Ava has yet another sweet moment with Milo. While Harry tells her she won't be staying in Hawaii forever and Milo won't stay with Nana forever. As you're driving away you all wave at the two, Ava yelling to Milo.

“Bye Mimi! See you soon! Don’t chase a squirrel when I’m gone!” She yells out the window, her arm waving in the wind.

You and Harry share a chuckle. Despite what she may think, Milo has never chased a squirrel in his life. She's watched it once on a cartoon and it somehow filled her heard with the imaginary scenario.

When both her grandmother and bestfriend are out of sight, she turns her head to the other window. A solemn look on her face, looking out the window like the Kermit the Frog meme.

You play the Frozen 2 soundtrack for the less pouty girl behind you. But when you don't hear the shrill sound of her singing, you look behind you to see an upset look upon her cherub face.

Her bottom lip is juts out, her hands fisted and arms crossed.

“You okay?” you ask her, turning in your seat to cradle her knee.

She’s dressed cutesy in a matching sweat set and a cute beanie rested over her plaits.

“No. I’m upset and I wanna yell” she looks at you, resting her case, before she turns her head back to its original spot.

Harry peeks at the interaction through the rear view mirror; an eyebrow quirked. One hand on the wheel while the other takes its natural spot in your lap, your fingers tangled with his.

“Why are you upset?” you ask.

“Because…” she groans, trying to figure out her ‘big feelings’. “You left Mimi and now he’ll hate me”

“He won’t hate you, you’re his favorite person”

“You guys don’t love me either!” She whines, glaring out the window. Wigging in her spot, causing your hand to fall from her knee.

“That’s not true! We love you” you exclaim, in a loving manner.

“Then get Mimi”

“Mimi is staying with grandma Ava, enough.” Harry’s voice catches her attention immediately. “ It's okay to be upset but Hawaii doesn’t accept dogs, remember?”

She only huffs, dropping her hands from her chest.

“Can you play the when I am older song, please mommy?” she almost whispers.

You accept her request, turning so you’re seated right. Playing the song and hearing her sing eases your glazed stare a bit. Releasing a breath and closing your eyes as you rest your head against the window adds a bit to your release.

Harry raises the entangled hands away from your lap, placing an adored kiss to the back of your hand. Sending a quick questioning look your way.

“I’m fine” you send back, in a smile. No mother wants to hear those words.

He can’t do much with him driving and with Ava in the car. So he places a kiss to the back of your hand once more, and extends his hand so he caresses the back of your neck.

“You’re doing a great job, stop being so hard on yourself” he encourages.

If your mom was here she’d give you a tip or two on how you and Harry are too soft on Ava. You couldn’t help leaving all the disciplining to Harry, you probably were definitely too soft on her at times.

Through all the pouting, belting of kid songs, and Harry's annoying jokes and teasing. Five hours later you've made it to the resort.

At the moment, Harry was checking you both in while you and Ava looked around the gift shop. When you feel someone’s arm come around your shoulder, you jump. But the feeling of his cold rings and brings you down.

“Scared me, don’t do that” a breath of relief follows as you tilt your head back onto his shoulder. He gets the memo immediately, leaning down for a peck to the lips.

“Made a friend in the lobby.” He tells you like nothing. Eyes shifting at his little girl looking through the stuffed animals and keychains.

“Are you okay?” you ask in disbelief.

“What?” he laughs, one eyebrow perched.

“Like in the head”

“I’m not following…”

“Why are you so good at making friends with strangers this easily? Seriously.”

He laughs you off like it’s nothing, but it’s uncomic. You wish you could blame it on being shy, but compared to Harry it was not that easy for you to chat up strangers enough that you become acquaintances.

Your husband could make friends with a duck if he wanted to. Everywhere you went. Whether in the ice cream shop a few miles away at home or the park where you took Ava all the time .He was always chatting with someone, in the end pulling you in.

He only laughs it off, beyond doubt enjoying the look on your face. “We agreed to save each other a seat at the Luau tonight, for whoever gets there first. Talked to the husband actually, but you’ll see”

“You’re insane” you tease him.

“Can I have this?” A teal, stuffed sea turtle is thrusts in the direction of you and Harry.

“How do we ask nicely” you say.

“Can I get this?” she smiles, a smile so sweet, your tooth hurts from looking at it. She’s the most adorable thing and knows exactly how to use it to her advantage.

“My sweet little baby.” Harry crooned, advancing to her, lifting her into his tattooed arms. Placing a series of kisses to her plump cheeks. She giggles, never wanting the affection to stop. “You can have it,” he tells her. “Let’s go to the till.”

“Harry you didn’t even check the price” you chimed in.

“Shh. We’re having a moment” he acknowledged. He outstretches his arm, so his palm meets your face gently. You laugh into it, before you smack his wrist away, then placing a light kiss to his wrist when he whines.

It’s some hours later. You’re all getting ready for the hotel’s hosted dinner/Luau tonight. The three of you took a two and a half hour nap.

You were touching up your light makeup while Harry got Ava ready. He lost two rounds of rock-paper-scissors and now must deal with the havoc that is dressing Ava.

“Baby, get the trousers mommy picked out for you” you Harey him tell Ava.

“Trousers?” She says the word with confusion, “Don’t have trousers babe? That’s a silly word.”

Then you hear the raspy laugh of Harry.

“Your pants, get your pants and your top too”

Not even a minute later do you hear Harry asking her to stop wiggling around.

Harry walks in the bathroom, a giggling Ava sat on his hip.

Harry adores a very laid back...dad look you could say. The back of the white wife beater he’s wearing get’s covered by a black button up shirt with flamingos patterned all over it. He’s also wearing a pair of shorts and his favorite vans.

Ava’s tucked into a set. a cami top with matching flared pants and sunflowers ornamented the black fabric.

“Oooh look at mumma, beautiful huh?” he asks Ava, extending one hand towards you, once you clasp your hands in his, he spins you letting his eyes sink in.

“Yeah!”

“Thank you both” you smile as Harry tugs you in for a swift kiss.

You had picked out an angelic, ivory crochet set. The top you’re wearing shows off your midriff and the long, flowy skirt matches with beautiful lace detailing.

You turn to Ava to give her a kiss on her cheek. “You look so handsome.” you tell Harry, letting your hand run through his hair. “And you look so adorable, you like your outfit?” taking her from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah, I like the flowers–– Can I have some too?” she points to the plethora of makeup products spread over the bathroom counter.

Looking over at Harry for his confirmation, he nods. You take the brush running it over the blush, before brushing it over her chubby cheeks and her nose.

“Tickles,” she laughs, pushing your hand away.

“Are you ladies ready to go?”

“Wow! Look the fires!” She points at the lines of tiki torches submerged into the sand, jumping as she sits on your hip.

The layout is stunning. There’s a stage for the performance, round tables spread out everywhere across the beach, and a buffet in the back.

Most of the tables are already filled, albeit the show was to start in like twenty minutes.

“There they are, over there” Harry indicated, his hand waving back at a family of four.

With Harry’s hand settled on your back, he weaved the three of you to the table.

“Hey Shawn.” Harry greeted, their hands clasped together as they brought each other in, clapping each other on the back.

Shawn was a tall man, a few inches taller than Harry, and very built. He had amazing brown skin, clear like a mirror, and was bald––which he pulled off effortlessly.

“This is my wife, y/n and my daughter Ava” he smiled at the two of you, while you shook hands with Shawn and asked Ava to say a hello. Which she did, like bursting a ball of energy as put her hands out for a handshake like she watched her parents do. It caused a laugh out of everyone. She didn’t know why they were laughing at her, but she enjoyed the attention.

“This is my wife Avni” you hugged, as close as you could, with a petite, expecting Indian woman. She was radiant as she smiled at you and Harry. “These are my kids Grey and Aster” you shook hands with them both.

Grey looked about Ava’s age, bouncy coils moving as he bobbed up and down in his seat. His sister, who looked in her tweens, sported the same hair texture. Aster more silent of the two sent her greetings kindly.

“And the third is still cooking in here” he laughed, setting his hands down on Avni’s early protruding belly.

With that joke, you understand exactly how the two of them got to know each other, as Harry joined in with his laugh. The wives chuckled amongst themselves.

“How far along are you?” you solicited.

“Three and a half months” Avni smiled proudly, rubbing both hands around her belly.

You cooed, “It’s amazing, you’re literally glowing. You're making me miss being pregnant” you joke.

“Okay! Enough of that. One little devil is enough.” Harry tickles your side, as a result you jab his side with your elbow gently, as he grins down at you. “We’re gonna go get some food,” he informs the couple.

Now everyone’s sitting around the table anticipating for the show to start. Conversation running pretty smoothly. The four of you were even able to make a few plans for the week you are here for. You had gotten a high chair for Ava to sit and eat in, but she wasn’t having it. Failing around while reaching for you.

In result, she’s now sitting in your lap, bouncing side to side. Munching on her French fries, chicken, and sipping on her pineapple juice.

“Taste good?” Harry asks his toddler.

“Mhm” she hums, shoving her thumb into his face.

“I can tell” he chuckles, extending a napkin to wipe her face clean.

You tilt your head down closer to hers, to see sauce around her mouth, some of it on her cheek even.

“Daddy.”

“Hm, baby?”

“Mimi would like this, he loves the chicken mommy gives me”

“You give Mimi your chicken?”

“No”

You both laugh it off, not seeing the point in correcting her.

“Who’s Mimi”

“Mimi is our dog, he's big and he can talk!” Ava answered, her voice ringing with excitement.

“Dog’s can’t talk!” The high-pitched voice of Grey argued, eye brows pitched together.

“That’s a fib, Mimi talks to me all the time!” she defended.

Thankfully, the show was beginning, two young women and four young men came out on stage. Dressed in their traditional Hula attire.

You and Avni shared a grateful smile, knowing neither of you would know how to suppress their little spiff.

The dance is mesmerizing and it was nice with the sun almost setting as a background. Light hues of orange shaded the sea as the night took over the rest. Everyone watched in awh, clapping when it was appropriate. The women’s skirt flowed amongst the air like water.

Harry’s arm propps on the back of your chair. During the performance you feel his fingers run against the back of your neck.

You turn your head towards, trying not to disturb the entranced little girl on your lap. “What?” you mouth.

“It’s beautiful” he whispers to you.

“I know” you tell him, smiling when he rolls his eyes at you.

At some point in the show, the original dancers plus a few more stepped off the stage. An array of Lei’s on their arms, watching as they put Leis around their chosen person’s neck. During this time a woman walks behind Harry, setting one around his neck.

You laugh at the shocked look on his face and the way he fixes his posture. She places a grip onto his arm, making him stand up so she could guide her to the rest of the others. Avni gets chosen too.

The smile on your face makes your face hurt as you watch Harry “dance” up there. The man definitely didn’t have the bet rhythm but he’s having fun and you loved that.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!...” Ava cheered on her father, clapping her hands. Harry looks towards her, waving. She gets even more excited chanting his title louder.

She's Not interrupting anything, you’re surprised he heard her in the first place. But also not, she always knew how to project her voice when needed.

A little over a minute goes by when Ava raises her hand and keeps it up there until you’re able to flag down someone for a lei, which you both get. The both of you walk up to Harry and you set Ava on the ground.

A slight circle forms as you three hold hands together. Just swaying. Sometimes letting go because Harry wanted to spin the two of you. It’s a beautiful image, you're sure. All the glee you could hold in your body transpires in the way you danced with them.

When you’re walking back to your hotel room, your arms are hooked with Harry’s and your head rests on his shoulder. An almost asleep Ava in his arm. He stops to bring his free hand around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Thank you for giving me this, I love you” he whispers against your lips.

Last night, after the dinner and the Hula, Ava had facetimed Nana. To be honest, she had wanted to say a goodnight to Milo, but talking to her grandmother was always a plus. She was still dressed in her outfit, you and Harry getting ready for the night, so you could then focus on her.

She sat up against the headboard, Your giant phone–– compared to her hands–– held in her tiny ones. You were looking through her duffle bag for her pyjamas when you heard…

“Look Mimi, I saved you chicken”, her small teeth bared, holding up a piece of her chicken from dinner. Your phone is now being propped up against a pillow.

You looked up to watch her pull a piece of chicken from her...pant pocket.

That was the point you reavulated yourself as a parent and had to think about what kind of kid you and Harry were possibly raising.

“Harry!” you called for him.

He walked out, an eyebrow quirked.

“Look.” you hiss, voice low.

‘God…’ Harry thinks. “Where’d she get that chicken from?” he asks, running his towel over his hair.

“Her pocket! Why are you so casual about this?”

“Angel...you had a baby with me, what’d you expect?” he questions, seriously questions you this.

“You’re fixing it then, Mr. mini-me”

Presently, you’re all at the beach. Three towels and three umbrellas lay in/on the sand. You’ve rubbed sunscreen on Ava twice now and have had to remind Harry three times. After last time there was no way you’d be rubbing aloe vera on him all night.

“Baby you’re dripping it.” You sigh, reaching over to wipe her chin of the chocolate ice cream she was eating, from a cup you might add. “Do you want me to feed it to you?”

“No, thank you” she replies, kicking her feet out.

You’ve all swam a bit, but now are on a mini break from the water and saw they were selling ice cream close by.

It’s pretty quiet between the three of you, too busy enjoying your treat.

She gasps, “Daddy you’re a fibber” Ava says indifferently, slurping even more of her ice cream from her spoon.

He guffaws, caught off guard from her statement. He shifts towards the two of you. The way the wind blows his hair and the sun makes the green in his eyes even brighter catches you off guard–– the sight of his abs doesn’t hurt either.

You also knew it wouldn’t be long until his hair gained some highlights and his freckles would be more prompt. You couldn’t wait.

“How’m I a fibber, messy?” squinting down at her.

“Look!”she points, “There’s a puppy right there”

There is, you turn your eyes to where her fingers point to see a woman walking a black Dachshund.

Harry turns his head towards him, a sad look on his face. “You’re right baby. I’m a fibber. I’m sorry”

Ava hurls from her seat to latch her arms around his neck, “It’s okay daddy, now Mimi can come next time” she tells him.

If there’s one thing about Ava, it’s how much she hates sadness. Unless it’s from her. Then it’s perfectly okay. She hates sadness so much, she particularly had a dislike for the character from Inside out. Until you had to explain to her how sadness is something that is okay and needed from time to time, Like in the movie.

After her round of affection towards Harry, she emplaces herself into his lap.

“Daddy. Mommy.”

You both hum an answer.

“It looks like a hot dog” she eyes the dog while it trots down the sand.

“It does huh?” Harry answers, brushing her flyaways back. All while you laugh into your palm.

Your hands feel tingly when you wrap it around Harry’s neck, pulling him into you. His head lays against your shoulder.

Definitely a vacation to remember and cherish.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurbs #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #dad!harry #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles drabble #harry styles writings #dad harry styles #harry styles angst #husband!harry #husband harry styles #dad harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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system-of-a-feather · 2 years

Note

What's your favorite little detail they show in representing OCD? What's your favorite episode?

Oof, that is a painfully difficult question for me to answer because I - having been diagnosed with Trichotillomania for 11 or 12 years and OCD for 7 or 8 years and having been in treatment since diagnosis - I still don't understand WHAT I do that is OCD other than that a lot of what I do is OCD and everyone external, professional, and within the system can see it XD I have no issue seeing it within other parts of the system, or with others, or even within Monk, but I look at myself and the whole ability to understand what the fuck OCD is and what the symptoms look like go out the window. Like I'm actually having a "flare up" (increase in symptoms due to life situations) and I barely can pinpoint what exactly is flaring up other than that it... just >is<

Though I guess it would probably be either 1) the attention to increase obsessions and compulsions correlated with stress and internal / external factors and 2) its much less of a "little" detail because its a really big persistent thing, but I very very very much appreciate the fact that they simultaneously show the serious, genuine distress that it can cause WHILE still having light hearted fun WHILE making it clear that he is ill WHILE making it clear that he can and still is an AMAZING addition to society despite it.

Some people I know probably dislike it as representation because they make "him look crazy" and all, but like... I personally think they really artfully balance the way having OCD can - with work and the right company - be a little silly and funny when you and those around you start adapting to it as well as the fact that having severe OCD (or really any mental health issue cause god Monk has a lot) doesn't mean you are worthless. They don't erase the damage having OCD does to himself and the difficulties that comes with it and socializing and working, but they also don't draw him out to just be "well now hes broken >:["

Personally, as someone who has integrated (for better or worse) a lot of my compulsions into my daily life and those close to me just know its "how I am", a lot of my more chronic issues with it have just become like, inside jokes and when its a semi-rare one or a new one its like ".... yes I know this is silly and excessive and I actually find it a bit funny BEHIND MY DISTRESS OKAY" and I get that vibe a lot through Monk which is nice XD

But really, I think while making fun and humor of the "silliness" that OCD tends to have you doing, it really does also commentate on how just like... ableist and dickheads most of society (especially back in 2002-2008) were towards the mentally ill and shit with OCD. You both see people bully, pick on, make fun of, and treat Monk like a joke, but you also see people that accept it as part of the whole Monk and accept it, and I think thats a very realistic and nice depiction of it honestly.

Favorite episode though.... I don't think I could name ONE episode that's a favorite. I'm currently on Season 4 Episode 8, so I'll only pick from the ones I've watched recently, and I think the two that stand out the most is the episode where Monk nearly adopts a kid in Season 3 because its wholesome and relatable and makes me sad; and then ONE SPECIFIC SCENE in Season 3 Episode 10 "Monk and the Red Herring".

Why only one episode of that specific scene? Well thanks for asking. Monk goes to a pet store and notices an abnormally behaving bird that is keeping it's food dishes even and proceeds to psychoanalyze and project accurate onto why the bird is acting that way and what it's situation is.

I hate and love that scene because the STOLE MY SCHTICK and also because I could probably nerd out for hours about why having a bird there specifically was an amazing addition because birds and OCD is a particularly nerdy topic of mine because I am, in fact a bird, and I do love to read about obsessive compulsive tendencies in birds and fasfakljsl

Anyways, I love and hated that scene because ME. MOOD. COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT.

-Riku (Host)

#alter: riku #ask #asks #monk #monk tv #monk tv show #ocd #actuallyocd

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: pure fluff and a happy ending as promised :)

A/N: the final chapter 😭❤️ see my full note at the end

Masterlist

Chapter 37

“What’s your location? Over,” the walkie talkie on the kitchen counter crackled.

“Dino chicken nuggets are coming out of the oven as we speak. Over,” you replied back.

“Roger that. Over and out,” Jo stated and the walkie talkie went back to static.

Spencer got them as a gift for her and she would constantly have one with her, giving the other to someone before leaving the room so they could talk through it.

You headed out to the back porch and down the steps into the yard with a big plate of nuggets and dipping sauces as well as some juice boxes and applesauce for the twins.

“Coast is clear. Do you copy? Over,” you spoke into the walkie talkie.

“Affirmative. Bring ‘em up,” Jo exited the main part of the treehouse and you saw her on its little porch.

Spencer had built her a little pulley system with a basket and rope so she could lower or raise items up into the treehouse instead of carrying them up the ladder.

You placed the food and drinks inside and then made your way up the wooden ladder.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Jo smiled as she bit into a nugget.

“No problem, Cadet Jo,” you ruffled her hair up a little as she giggled.

You ducked to get through the door of the treehouse and sat down on a cushion on the floor next to Spencer who had both the twins in his lap.

“What are we watching?” you asked as you clipped the twins’ bibs on.

“Cars!” Jo cheered.

“I wanted to watch a subtitled Russian film but I was ‘boo’ed when I made that suggestion,” Spencer grinned as he grabbed the spoon to start feeding the babies.

“Hm I wonder why,” you teased.

Once Jo got the movie playing on the laptop, she took a seat in your lap with the plate of nuggets and took turns eating one, then handing one to you, then Spencer.

Once all the kids were fast asleep in your laps and the credits were rolling, you turned to Spencer.

“You and Derek really did a good job building this treehouse, love,” you complimented him.

“Anything for my family,” he smiled, then leaned over to kiss you.

It was the morning of Jo’s 8th birthday party. You wanted to make it extra special in light of what happened at her 7th birthday party.

Spencer kept reminding you that it wasn’t your fault a psychopath shot you and sent you to the hospital but you just wanted to give Jo the party she deserves.

You rented a bouncy house and an inflatable water slide. Spencer was doing a magic show and Penelope was doing face paintings. You baked a huge stegosaurus-shaped cake from scratch. No kid would be bored and Jo would have an amazing time.

You settled for having it in your backyard instead of the park now that you had plenty of room. The whole team came over earlier to help set up.

Penelope got all her paints organized on the porch table as Spencer set up his mini stage for the performance. Hotch and Derek filled the slide with water while you and Emily carefully brought the massive cake to the table outside.

Jo came running outside already in her swimsuit, eager to get the first splash in the water slide.

“You have to come with me, Uncle Derek,” she insisted.

“Jo, I don’t have my swimsuit on,” he replied.

“You’re in athletic shorts. They’ll dry quick,” Savannah, his girlfriend, yelled from where she was setting up the food table.

Derek looked to Hotch to help him out. Hotch pointed back to Jo who was giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he groaned, taking off his shirt which elicited a holler from Penelope.

Jo made her way up the steps with Derek right behind her.

Jo sat down in Derek’s lap and then turned around to face him.

“Okay, ready?” she asked him.

Derek nodded and then pushed off, sending them both down the slippery slide.

“Weee!” Jo exclaimed as they slid down.

“Again,” she demanded, “Where’s Daddy?”

“He went to put his swimsuit on, Baby J, so he can go with you,” you told her as you set Ollie down next to Ophelia in the playpen outside.

“Coming, Princess!” Spencer ran outside and scooped the little girl up in his arms as he trekked up the steps.

“How about we go down like a penguin this time?” he suggested.

Jo nodded enthusiastically as Spencer got onto his belly and Jo laid on top of him and wrapped her hands around his neck.

“1…2…3!” Spencer pushed off and they raced down the slide again, Jo giggling the whole time.

“Again!” Jo said.

“I think we are going to have to buy one of these, love,” Spencer called over to you, laughing and running up the stairs right behind Jo again.

“Please welcome my lovely assistant to the stage,” Spencer spoke in his magician tuxedo.

You waved as the audience clapped. You were wearing a sparkly red sequin dress to compliment Spencer’s bow tie.

“I am going to make my assistant…disappear,” he stated.

The kids in the audience gasped.

Spencer took your hand and guided you to the big black box in the center of the stage.

“Just like we practiced,” he whispered to you as you stepped inside.

You winked and he kissed your hand as he let go and closed the door.

Spencer knocked on the door a few times and wiggled his hands for some showmanship.

“Okay, on the count of 3. We’re all going to yell ‘Abracadabra’,” Spencer explained, “1…2…3!”

“Abracadabra!” all the kids yelled.

Spencer set off a small smoke bomb and quickly opened the door, revealing an empty box.

The kids all screamed in wonder.

“Bring Mommy back!” Jo yelled.

You had to stifle your laughter from behind the fake wall in the box you were hiding behind.

“Your wish is my command, Princess,” Spencer closed the door again.

“To reverse the spell, we need to say the exact same word,” Spencer stated.

“Abracadabra!” the kids yelled once again.

This time, you opened the door and the kids clapped enthusiastically.

“For this next trick, I need a volunteer from the audience,” Spencer smiled.

All the kids’ hands shot up in the air.

“I’m going to have to go with the wonderful birthday girl right in the front row,” you took Jo’s hand and escorted her up onto the stage.

“Jo, I need you to pick a card, any card. Show the audience but not me,” Spencer fanned the cards out in his hands and closed his eyes.

Jo picked the ace of hearts and showed the audience.

“Now, put it back in the pile,” he said.

“Alright,” Spencer opened his eyes and began to shuffle the cards, “Is this your card?” he asked, holding the eight of spades.

“No, Daddy. Try again,” Jo said.

“Is this it?” he questioned, holding the queen of diamonds.

“No, Daddy.”

“Oh,” Spencer smacked his forehead, “I know where I put it,” he pulled off his top hat.

Spencer then proceeded to pull a bouquet of flowers, an endless handkerchief, a rubber chicken, and many other silly things out of his hat that had the kids in tears from laughing.

Finally, he pulled out the ace of hearts, “Is this your card, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy!” she beamed, hugging him.

Jo’s birthday was a complete success. She was completely worn out by the end of it and slept in late the next morning.

But when she did finally wake, she was eager to try out her gift that you and Spencer had gotten her: a big kid bike with no training wheels. It was purple which was her favorite color with a white basket on the front and a little bell on the handlebars.

You and Spencer were going to teach her how to ride it today. She padded up with some knee pads and elbow pads and her helmet.

You had the twins in their double stroller with mini bucket hats on to protect them from the sun.

“Okay, Jo. Me and Daddy will run with you for a little but then we’re going to let go but you’re going to keep pedaling,” you explained to her.

“I’m scared,” she replied, looking at the street in front of her.

You were practicing in the street in front of your house because it wasn’t very busy and it was flat. Plus, you could leave the twins in the stroller in the driveway.

“It’s okay, Baby J. You’ve got all your padding on so even if you fall, it won’t hurt at all, I promise,” you assured her.

“I believe in you, Princess,” Spencer kissed her helmet-covered head.

“I’m ready,” she nodded, moving her feet to the pedals.

“That’s my girl,” you smiled.

You and Spencer began to jog alongside her as she pedaled.

Spencer looked at you, “Okay, Princess. We’re letting go.”

You and Spencer both removed your hands from her bike and she continued to speed forward.

“Yes, Jo! You’re doing it! ” you encouraged her.

“Princess, can you turn around and come back to me and Mommy?” Spencer asked.

Jo carefully steered her bike and headed back to you both with a massive smile on her face. You and Spencer were loudly cheering her on.

“Okay, try to brake,” you said.

Jo slowly came to a stop right in between you both.

“You’re a pro!” you grinned as you both knelt down to hug her.

Jo had been biking for the past hour and she was still having a blast.

You and Spencer were laying in the front yard with the twins in your laps.

“Mommy, Daddy! Look!” Jo exclaimed as she did donuts on the bike.

“We’re looking, Baby J,” you laughed, “Great job!”

You leaned your head on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Y/N…” Spencer began.

“Yes, Spence?”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“For what?” you looked up at him.

“All this,” he motioned to Jo, the twins, the house, the yard, the chalk drawings on the driveway, the rocking chairs on the front porch, the doormat that said ‘The Reids’, everything he ever dreamed of, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him, “I’d give you the world if I could.”

“You already have,” he smiled.

A/N: thank you everyone so so so much for reading, commenting, reblogging, etc.! i love you all so much. i’m probably going to miss this too much and do one-shots of this series in the future. also, this series hit 14,000 on ao3! that’s crazy that that many people read my work. thank you, just thank you! -dory <3

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat

series taglist: @doctorreiding @reidsfish

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #cm fic #cm fanfic #dad!spencer

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hrina · 4 years

Text

Something Strange

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: R WORD COUNT: 6.3k+ REQUESTED: no

uhhhh hi. so. this is my (first ever) halloween fic, ft. infuriatingly cocky ghostbuster!harry. i really hope you guys enjoy it, and just like every other writer on this godforsaken site, i’d love to hear any feedback that you might have. ok im done now lol go forth and read :)

warnings: cursing, brief nsfw content, a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions, and harry being an asshole with a secret heart of gold.

~*~

October 2nd, 2021

Your attention is first caught by the massive, obnoxiously-coloured truck parked in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway. The entire vehicle is a shade of navy blue, though its sophistication is ruined by the neon green bubble lettering streaked across its doors.

Spooked? Call Styles’ Scares!

Beneath that, there’s a promise painted in bright pink:

Lasting results or your money back!

“What the hell?” you mutter.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit your car, momentarily forgetting about the groceries sitting in the trunk. Mindy and Gerald are standing on their porch, absorbed in a light-hearted conversation. When they catch sight of you trekking across the lawn, they smile brightly and offer up a pair of welcoming waves.

“Hi, there!” you call, shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “What’s all this?”

“Good afternoon, dear!” Mindy replies. She quickly descends the front steps, meeting you halfway and enveloping you in a tight hug. “How are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“You can drop in whenever you want,” you say, chuckling. “It’s not like I live very far away.”

“How have you been?” Gerald follows his wife, steadily making his way off the porch. “How’s school?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Things are picking up, now, but I’m trying my best to stay on top of them.”

You toss your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the bright pickup truck parked in their driveway. (It really is ugly, you think. Probably one of the ugliest vehicles that you’ve ever had the displeasure of perceiving.)

“What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Mindy lifts her hands to her mouth, gazing at you with wide, serious eyes. “Our house is haunted.”

You balk. “Pardon me?”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It sounds silly. I didn’t believe it at first either, but—something keeps knocking our picture frames off the wall. And the lights! They start flickering at random intervals throughout the day.”

“Are you sure it’s not just rats?” you joke.

Gerald, who has now joined you on the lawn, holds up his hand solemnly. “We tried using traps, but they haven’t been touched at all.”

“Exactly.” Mindy nods, turning back to you. “We’re already worried about Joseph’s wedding next week, so one of the ladies at the community centre recommended Harry. That same day, Gerald gave him a call, and that was the end of it.”

“Who’s Harry?” you ask, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Er—” A deep voice sounds from behind you. “I am.”

When you turn around, you come face-to-face with one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He’s got mossy green eyes, dark pink lips, and brown hair that curls around his temples and behind his ears. Smooth skin stretches out over high, chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He’s wearing a pair of light-wash jeans and matching white sneakers. A black hoodie covers his broad chest; upon taking a closer look, you note that the two front strings have been tied into a picturesque little bow.

Mindy wastes no time, introducing the two of you immediately. When Harry holds out his hand for you to shake, you don’t hesitate.

“Did you want my card?” he asks, peering at you curiously.

You study his expression. Beneath his seemingly sincere exterior, arrogance runs wild and unchecked. You know this man. You’ve met him a hundred different times under a hundred different circumstances, and you’ve learned to recognize a lost cause when you’re staring it square in the face.

“Not at all.” You shoot him a fake smile. “I’m just the neighbour.”

“Right.” His lips twitch. He steps back, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin in the direction of the house. “Well, I should probably get to work. It was nice meeting you, babe.”

Your nose wrinkles as the pet name sinks in.

When you turn back around to resume your conversation with Mindy and Gerald, they’re gone. Your eyes bounce to the right, where you find them guiding Harry up the porch steps. Mindy has one hand on his bicep whilst gesturing animatedly with the other. Gerald opens the front door and holds out his arm, welcoming Harry inside.

You scoff, shaking your head in disdain.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” you mumble as you make your way back across the lawn. The trunk of your car squeaks when you pull it open, and plastic bags rustle as you gather your groceries into your arms.

Ghosts aren’t real. And Harry is obviously a scammer, based on…well, based on everything. The tacky design on his truck. The unprofessional wardrobe. The self-assuredness emanating from every cell in his body. Babe.

But Mindy and Gerald truly believe that their home is haunted. Trying to change their minds without a shred of physical proof is pointless. You blow out a soft sigh, accepting the grim reality of your situation.

Your neighbours are gullible, trusting people. And for the next few days—whether you like it or not—Harry is here to stay.

October 5th, 2021

You’re approximately two seconds away from chucking your textbook against the far wall.

You’ve been trying to finish this chapter for the past hour. And though you pride yourself on being tolerant when it comes to petty annoyances, your patience is wearing thin. A quick glance out of your bedroom window reveals Harry’s hideous pickup truck parked—yet again—in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway.

You roll your eyes. Of course.

The piercing, raucous whirring starts up again; you release a frustrated yell, slamming your book shut and leaping off your bed. You’re muttering obscenities under your breath as you stalk down the hall, stopping briefly to slide on a pair of fuzzy slippers. When you yank your front door open, the chilly autumn air settles into your bones.

The clamour grows louder as you stomp across your shared lawn. When you knock on Mindy and Gerald’s door, the commotion is nearly unbearable. A few seconds go by, during which your presence remains unacknowledged; you rap once again on the wood, hoping that the sound will be conspicuous enough amidst all of the background noise.

Sure enough, everything goes quiet. Your shoulders slump with relief just as the door opens. Mindy greets you with a friendly smile.

“Hi, dear,” she says kindly. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi.” You force yourself to mirror her affable expression, hoping that she can’t see the pained exhaustion brewing in your eyes. “Could I just—could I speak with Harry, please? It won’t take long.”

“Of course.” She nods before peering at you anxiously. “Don’t tell me that you’ve got ghosts, too.”

“No.” You shake your head. Ghosts aren’t real, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “No, I just—I just need to have a quick word with him, that’s all.”

“Alright. I’ll go fetch him.” She turns around and totters away.

You hear her call his name, followed by the telltale sound of shuffling. After a few long moments, he’s there, leaning against the doorway with a bemused look on his face.

“Evening, babe,” he says coolly. “What’s up?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot upward. He hadn’t expected you to greet him with such animosity, you suppose. His outfit is nearly identical to that of the other day, save for the red bandana perched atop his head. He buries his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging nonchalantly and pinning you with a blasé, unimpressed gaze.

“Noted,” he says. The corners of his lips curl up into a crooked smirk as he repeats, “What’s up?”

“You need to keep it down,” you say flatly. “I don’t know what kind of fake ‘exorcism’ bullshit you’re trying to pull off, but the noise is driving me insane. I need to study.”

“‘Fake’?” Harry parrots. “You don’t believe in spirits?”

“No,” you deadpan. “I don’t.” You narrow your eyes, studying the subtle movements of his face. “And if I had to take a wild guess, neither do you.”

“Really,” he says, chuckling softly. It isn’t a question.

“Really.”

Harry watches you, tickled by your obvious exasperation. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“Look at that,” you say, rolling your eyes. “He does have a brain.”

“You’re so judgmental.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How can you dislike me when you barely even know me?”

“I know enough,” you reply, scowling. “I know that you’re a fraud who takes advantage of people and their fears. And for what? Just so that you can take home a paycheque at the end of the day?”

“Ouch.” Harry feigns injury, placing a large hand over his heart. “That hurts, babe.”

There it is again. Babe.

“You know what?” Your nostrils flare. “Forget this—it’s like trying to explain rocket science to a toddler.”

He grins. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m much cuter, though, don’t you think?”

You scoff, pedalling backward. “In your dreams.”

His delight only seems to grow when your retort sinks in. You whip around, descending the porch steps and storming back toward your house. When you chance a glance over your shoulder, Harry is still standing in the doorway, a shit-eating smile stretched wide across his cheeks.

“Just keep it down, okay?” you call irritably.

He raises two fingers to his temple in a mock-salute, and you march away without another word.

October 8th, 2021

“You’re sure?”

You laugh. “Yes, Mindy, I’m sure. I promise.”

“Alright,” she assents, blowing out a quiet sigh through the phone. “I went grocery shopping today, so our cupboards are fully stocked—help yourself to anything you’d like. Also, when you flush the downstairs toilet, the water may look like it’s rising, but it goes down after a second or two.”

“Noted.” You snicker. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” you reply. “Tell Joseph and Amy that I said congratulations, yeah?”

“We will! See you later, dear.”

“See you later.”

October 9th, 2021

When Mindy and Gerald get back tomorrow afternoon, you’re going to wring their necks.

Agreeing to housesit whilst they celebrated their son’s wedding a few cities away? Sure. Fine. You had a long night full of nothing planned—sitting in front of the television, munching on some snacks, relaxing for the evening and trying to forget about all of the schoolwork waiting for you at home. You were in the middle of watching a Golden Girls rerun when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” You stood, setting your bowl of popcorn aside. The knocking continued as you made your way to the front entrance, wiping your buttery fingers against the dark leggings covering your thighs.

“I’m coming,” you said exasperatedly. You opened the door, ready to shoo away whoever it was—a salesperson, probably.

Instead, you came face-to-face with Harry.

And now, you’re here—slumped on the couch, angrily shovelling popcorn into your mouth. You keep your gaze trained on the television, trying your hardest to avoid the man who is setting up his “equipment” in the middle of the room.

“Can’t you do this in the kitchen?” you deadpan.

He flicks a switch on his machine—it looks an awful lot like a standard centrifuge. What a fraud.

“Spirit energy’s strongest in here,” he grunts. His knees scuff against the carpeted floor.

A derisive laugh falls from your lips. “Mindy and Gerald aren’t here—you can drop the act.”

Harry glances up at you, his pretty green irises glimmering. “What act?”

You roll your eyes and look away, fixing your attention back on the grainy screen.

Neither of you say anything for the next few minutes; tension builds, saturating the air and making it hard for you to breathe. Eventually, Harry breaks through the awkward silence. You want to scream.

“Er—” he starts, expectant. “Do you mind stepping out for a second? I need the room.”

Your nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”

“I need the—”

“I heard you,” you say, sitting up straight. “You don’t need anything. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, babe.” His tone is genuine, but you can sense the mirth simmering just beneath the surface. His lips twitch, and your frustration boils like water over a stove.

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest. “And stop playing dumb. Other people might put up with your pseudo-spooky bullshit, but I won’t. Ghosts aren’t real!”

The lights go out.

You gasp, straining your eyes in an attempt to regain your bearings. Slowly, blurry shapes and shadows materialise in front of you. You fumble around for your phone, picking it up and tapping the screen. A moment later, the device’s flash lights up the room. You shine it from side to side, eventually settling on Harry, who is looking up at the ceiling in complete and utter bewilderment.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?” you squawk, glaring at him. “The power went out. Big deal.”

The lights flicker fleetingly, and then the room is dark again. Your eyes drift over to Harry; he’s smirking.

“This isn’t a ghost,” you say stubbornly, waving your phone around. The bright light bounces across the walls before you steady yourself, positioning the beam back on him. He stands, sinking his hands into the deep pockets of his sweatpants.

“And how would you know?” he teases, cocking one eyebrow challengingly.

“Because,” you scoff. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Something crashes to the floor. You yelp in surprise, your head snapping to the right. When you shine your light in the direction of the noise, you find a shattered picture frame lying on the ground.

“What the fuck?” Harry murmurs, advancing toward the mess.

“Careful!” you say, holding up your hand. He stops in his tracks, peering over at you in confusion. “There’s glass, idiot,” you explain, climbing to your feet. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He shoots you a crooked smile. “You do care.”

“I don’t.” Your response is curt. “I just don’t feel like driving you to the hospital so that they can remove fragments from your foot.”

Harry chuckles.

You sigh, squinting at the fallen frame. “We can clean it up when the lights come back on,” you say, mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

He nods and yawns, stretching his arms out above his head. “Suit yourself, babe.”

“The next time you call me that, I’m going to—”

“What?” he asks, padding over to the sofa. You watch him approach with a deep scowl on your face. He collapses onto the couch, slouching and spreading his legs obnoxiously wide. “You gonna beat me up or something?”

You shake your head in disbelief, stepping away from him. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“So you say,” he replies, unbothered.

“You’re so—”

You break off, producing an angry noise in the back of your throat. Harry winks at you; in response, you whip around and storm away, carving out a path from the living room to the kitchen.

You shine the light from your phone across the cupboards, making a beeline for the fridge. When you pull it open, the cold compartment is dark. Squinting, you reach for one of the many water bottles stacked on the top shelf.

Stupid Harry, with his stupid smile and his stupid eyes and his stupid attitude and his stupid bogus business. You can’t believe that Mindy and Gerald were naïve enough to fall for his bullshit. You need to have a long talk with them when they get back, you think—to ensure that they never swallow a pill this big ever again.

“Thirsty?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, pointing your phone toward the kitchen’s exit. Harry is standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You bring one hand up to your sternum, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking your head. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He snickers lowly. You turn your attention back to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and uncapping it quickly. Through the darkness, Harry watches you gulp down the cool liquid; you pretend not to notice.

“Can I help you?” you finally ask, wiping your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“No.” He shrugs. “Just…looking, I guess.”

“That’s creepy,” you reply flatly. He laughs.

“May I steal a bottle?” he says, padding across the tiles. “I’m parched.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I—sure. Whatever.”

And though you try, you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. He hums as he opens up the fridge, leaning forward to get a better look inside. You play with the hem of your sweater, standing behind him awkwardly. When he peers over his shoulder, you quickly look away, feigning interest in the marble countertop next to the sink.

“Er—” he starts. He fixes you with an inquisitive look, glancing down at the device in your hand. “Would you mind? I can’t see anything.”

“Don’t you have your own?” you ask.

“Yeah, but you’re already holding yours. Come on.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You draw nearer, lifting your phone and shining its flash into the fridge. Harry hums, plucking a water bottle off the top shelf with a satisfied smile. When he turns to face you, a puff of air catches in your throat; he’s awfully close, his torso brushing almost imperceptibly against yours.

You stare up at him, stunned. There’s a small mole beneath the left corner of his mouth. Part of you—an insignificant, microscopic part—fights the urge to reach out and run your thumb over the mark.

“I’m sorry for calling you a piece of shit,” you blurt.

He inhales deeply, chest expanding and fitting a bit more firmly against your own.

The contact snaps you out of your trance. You retreat, backing up against the counter to maintain your balance. Harry clears his throat and glances away.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod.

The two of you stand there for a long moment, sinking into a pool of uncomfortable silence. Just when you think that you’re going to choke on the invisible tension, a faint buzz resonates through the air. Less than a second later, the power returns, illuminating the kitchen in a wash of warm, brilliant light.

“Thank God,” you mutter. You shut the flash on your phone, sliding the device beneath the waistband of your leggings.

Harry blinks rapidly, disoriented. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He waves your question away. “No, it’s—it’s nothing.”

And you don’t really feel like pressing the subject, so you let it go. A tired sigh falls from your mouth as you scan your surroundings.

“Help me find a broom,” you tell him. “We need to sweep up the glass in the other room.”

His lips twitch. “What’s the magic word?”

There he is. The same insufferable man who has been pushing your buttons all week. You scowl, shooting him a displeased glare.

“Forget it.” You drag your fingers down the left side of your face. “I’ll do it myself.”

~*~

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Harry calls, kicking his feet up onto the sofa.

You grunt, crouching next to the shattered glass on the floor. “Positive.”

The broom and dustpan that you’ve acquired from the laundry room are old and frail, but you suppose that they’ll get the job done. You set the dustpan down on the ground, wrapping your fingers around the broom’s handle and trying to maneuver it in an efficient way. It’s no easy feat, but eventually, you manage to create a small, compact pile of shards. Gingerly, you reach for the picture frame, plucking it up from the ground and setting it off to the side. Next, you take your time sweeping all of the fragments into the dustpan, inspecting the floor for any lingering bits.

“Struggling over there?” Harry asks.

You grit your teeth.

“No,” you counter in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think I got it all, actually. No thanks to you.”

You throw the last part over your shoulder, coupling it with an accusatory frown. Harry holds up his hands in surrender, suppressing his amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be exorcising spirits?” you ask. Sarcasm drips from your words.

He chuckles. The couch squeaks as he shuffles around; a moment later, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches your ears. You stiffen when he stops next to your squatted form.

“To be quite honest,” he begins, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’m having a much better time watching you.”

“Creepy,” you say. “Again.”

He laughs, lowering himself to his knees. In the periphery of your vision, you watch him pick up the abandoned picture frame, turning it around and studying the photograph inside. His cheeks lift with the slope of a familiar smile, but somehow, this one is different from the others that you’ve witnessed.

It’s real. Sincere.

“Nice, don’t you think?” Harry asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

He extends his arm, revealing the photograph. Mindy and Gerald’s beaming faces stare up at you, a balance of bright grins and crinkled eyes. Subconsciously, your lips curl upward, and you take the frame from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, running your fingertips over the photo. “They look happy.”

“How long have you known them?” he asks. There’s no malice behind the question.

“Since I moved in,” you say absentmindedly, admiring the ornate frame around the picture. “A few years, now.”

He hums in response. “They talk about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope.” You cast a wry look in his direction.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah. They look out for you, it seems.”

“I try to look out for them, too.” You sit back on your haunches, groaning quietly. “Which is why I was surprised that they didn’t come to me when they first thought their house was ‘haunted’.”

Your intonation changes on the last word; you still don’t believe that your neighbours are being plagued by spirits, despite the plethora of peculiarity that you’ve witnessed tonight.

“Maybe they didn’t want to worry you,” Harry suggests.

You roll your eyes. Even now, he refuses to drop the act.

“Sure,” you say. “So, hiring a spirit exterminator—or whatever you pretend to be—was a better move?” You snort softly, climbing to your feet. “How much are they paying you, anyway?”

He purses his lips. “They’re not.”

You freeze.

A beat of silence drags out, during which you swallow your shock. You clear your throat and lift your chin, staring down at Harry banally.

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“You are!” you insist. A short, incredulous laugh tumbles off your tongue. “You are one hundred percent fucking with me.”

“I’m afraid not,” he says.

“Your truck, though...” you say. “‘Lasting results, or your money back’?”

“I’ve got to make it look legitimate, don’t I?” He smirks. “But it’s cute that you remembered.”

Your eyes lock with his, and suddenly, it’s almost impossible to breathe. His gaze is deep, open, and honest. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Instinctively, your legs carry you a few paces back, veering toward the sofa. You plop down onto the plush cushions, clutching the picture frame tightly between your fingers.

“Then, why—?” you break off, shaking your head. “Why would you—?”

“Peace of mind,” Harry shrugs, still rooted to his spot on the floor. “Ever heard of the placebo effect?”

“You admit it, then,” you say, sitting up straight. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

He nods, blinking languidly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“So,” you start, trying to make sense of the situation, “you let them believe that you’re actually cleansing the house—for free, too—just to—?” You glance around the room, searching for the right words. “—just to put them at ease?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

Sweet. Thoughtful.

“…ridiculous.”

Harry chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I—” You hesitate, depositing the photograph next to you on the couch. “This whole time, I thought you were just…”

“A con?”

You bring your fingers up to your mouth, nodding silently and studying him with big, rounded eyes.

He shrugs.

“I mean, I never really got the chance to explain myself. You’d already made up your mind about me, hadn’t you? So, I thought I’d just let you stick with your assumptions—it didn’t bother me much.”

“I’m a horrible person,” you say, mostly to yourself.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. You’re just a bit judgmental, that’s all.”

“You’re right.” You nod again, bowing your head in shame. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe, really.”

You stand abruptly, abandoning your spot on the sofa.

“I should finish up,” you state, embarrassed beyond belief. Harry watches you closely as you approach. You crouch down next to him, reaching for the dustpan with shaky hands. A few small shards of glass are littered at the brink of the collector; you nudge them away from the edge, trying to be as careful as possible.

“Ow!” you suddenly hiss, retracting your arm quickly. You twist your wrist, fixing your attention on a thin cut engraved into the pad of your index finger.

“What happened?” Harry asks, leaning forward.

You shake your head, waving away his worries. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got nicked, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” he requests, holding out his own hand.

You pause, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and stealing a quick glance at his face. His expression is concerned, but neutral. Your hesitation is silly, you think—he may be a bit of a jackass, but he’s not going to hurt you. You’ve already condemned him once before, and you were wrong.

You don’t want to make that mistake again.

After a brief moment, you give in, sliding your knuckles into his open palm.

“It’s alright, really,” you say, speaking around the lump in your throat. “The piece was tiny—it hardly broke the surface.”

Harry inspects the laceration closely, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s not that serious, you want to tell him, but you refrain from letting the words escape. Part of you is enjoying the way your hands fit together so perfectly. You don’t want it to end—not yet.

“You’re bleeding a bit, babe,” he announces faintly, brows cinched in concentration.

“I am?” You try to tug your arm back, but he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. A low, confused noise echoes in the back of your throat; Harry peers up at you, his features unreadable.

“It’s just a spot,” he murmurs. “Let me.”

And before you can say or do anything else, he’s taking your finger past his lips and giving an easy, gentle suck.

You squeak.

The sound snaps Harry out of his trance; he releases your hand and recoils hastily. You exhale, driving out the stale air gathered in your lungs. When you peek up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s already watching you, shoulders taut with anxiety.

“Sorry,” he stammers. His nostrils flare. “That was weird—sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “Er…thanks.”

“No worries.” He swallows.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, you wipe your clammy palms against your thighs. Harry seems to be looking at everything except for you; his gaze flits to the ceiling, then to the couch, then to the floor. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and push yourself up off the ground. The room is painfully quiet as you slowly slink back toward to the sofa.

“I should probably put this somewhere safe,” you mumble, picking up the forgotten picture frame.

Warm air floats over the nape of your neck. You gasp and spin around, nearly toppling over in your haste. Harry’s hands find your shoulders, steadying you and crowding you closer to his chest. You glance up at him; your shallow breaths mingle together in the narrow space, noses only inches apart.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice no higher than a gruff whisper. “Tell me. Please.”

In response, you fumble for one of his hands, grappling at his wrist; he loosens his hold on your arms, confused but willing. He’s motionless as you lift his knuckles up to your mouth. You glance down, tilting your head to the side and studying them carefully. Harry says nothing when you press a soft, feathery kiss to the pad of his index finger.

But then you’re dipping the tip of the digit between your lips, and suddenly, he’s undone.

“Fucking—”

He grabs your face in his palms and seals his mouth to yours.

The two of you stagger backward, tumbling onto the couch. Mindy and Gerald’s picture frame slips from your grasp, landing on a neighbouring cushion with a faint thud. Reflexively, your legs part; Harry takes his rightful place between them, slanting his body accordingly. When he applies the faintest hint of pressure, you moan.

“Fuck.” He draws back, his warm breath wafting over your chin. “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what?” you ask, puzzled.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make those noises. It’s—you’re—I’m—”

He curses quietly and reaches for one of your hands. You allow him to guide your palm lower, inhaling sharply when you feel the slight bulge protruding from his trousers. Instinctively, your fingers close over the subtle ridge of his cock. His shoulders stiffen, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Not fully.” He swallows. “But I’m getting there.”

“Because of me?” you ask, peering up at him innocently.

“Yeah.” Harry expels a wobbly, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, babe—because of you.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the familiar moniker falls from his mouth. He notices your unusual reaction, mouth curling into teasing smirk.

“What?” he says, lifting one eyebrow. “No nagging, this time? I thought you hated that nickname.”

You grip the collar of his sweater and give a gentle tug, guiding him down for another kiss. When the two of you finally break apart, you shrug. “It’s growing on me.”

He smiles.

“Do you—?” you pause, pursing your lips. The question sounds silly—presumptuous, even. Rather than finishing your sentence, you lift your chin, gazing up evenly into Harry’s green eyes and declaring, “I think I want to sleep with you.”

His cheeks dimple with a wide grin. “Is that so?”

You nod.

“Right, then.” He kisses your nose and pulls away. “There’s a condom in my wallet, but…I may or may not have left it in my truck.”

You groan, allowing your head to fall back against the sofa with a heavy thump. Harry chuckles at your theatrics. After a brief moment of contemplation, you compose yourself and sit up quickly.

“That works, actually,” you say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Grab your wallet, and then we can go to my place. I don’t think my neighbours would be very happy if we fucked on their couch.”

He laughs, climbing eagerly to his feet and shooting you a smug wink. “You got it, babe.”

October 10th, 2021

It’s nearly half past noon when you step out onto the porch the next day. You yawn, squinting up at the sun shining brightly in the sky. There are no clouds in sight; the slight chill of the autumn air tickles your exposed arms. You tug on the waistband of your sweatpants, keeping the material seated firmly on your hips.

“Good morning, dear!”

You jump, head snapping in the direction of a familiar voice. Mindy and Gerald are sitting on their veranda, nursing twin cups of coffee and looking awfully cozy. Gerald smiles at you, folding up his newspaper and setting it on his lap.

“Good morning!” You wave before re-evaluating your words. “Well, it’s technically past twelve, so good afternoon.”

Mindy laughs.

“How was the wedding?” you ask, approaching the side of your deck. You lean against the thin metal railing, combing your fingers through your messy hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back this soon.”

“We woke up early,” Mindy explains. “And the wedding was fabulous. Amy wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” You grin. “Do you have any pictures?”

“Of course! Just let me run inside and grab my phone—”

“Mornin’,” a gruff voice says from behind you.

You gasp and spin around, bringing a hand to your chest. The sight laid out before you has your heart speeding up, galloping wildly and battering against the confines of your ribs.

Harry’s wearing that same hoodie from last night. Your gaze trails lower—he’s also sporting a pair of grey boxers and white socks. There’s a mug nestled in each of his large hands, his spindly fingers wrapped around the handles comfortably. Your eyes lock with his sleepy ones, and your breathing hitches in your throat.

“Morning,” you whisper, unable to muster up anything louder.

“I—” Harry clears his throat, stepping closer and extending his left arm. “I, er, took the liberty of making us some tea. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s—” You swallow as you accept one of the mugs, suppressing a giddy smile. “It’s completely fine. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You nod shyly.

He chuckles. “Good.”

His gaze wanders over your shoulder, and it’s then that he notices Mindy and Gerald sat on the neighbouring porch. Without even batting an eye, he lifts his hand in a friendly wave. “Morning, you two. How was the wedding?”

You turn back toward the couple, a sheepish look on your face. Mindy is beaming, and Gerald is trying to hold back a laugh. Heat creeps up your neck; you wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“It was wonderful!” Mindy trills. Her enthusiasm has skyrocketed. You pinch the bridge of your nose, utterly mortified.

“Yes.” Gerald finally pipes up, smirking knowingly. “It was great. What about you, though? How was your night?”

“Fine,” you blurt before Harry can respond. “It was fine.”

The duo share a look, and then Mindy giggles girlishly. You bring your mug up to your mouth, taking a long sip and groaning into the cup. Harry’s arm snakes around your waist, making you jump. You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s fighting a smile.

“Well—” Gerald clears his throat, plucking his folded newspaper from his lap and rising to his feet. “I think I’ll be going, now. Need to catch up on those few extra hours of sleep.”

“Me too,” Mindy says, nodding fervently. She directs her next words at you. “If you pop by later, I’ll show you those photos, okay?”

“Okay,” you croak.

She shoots you one last grin before disappearing inside.

“God,” you say immediately, hanging your head. “That was torture.”

Next to you, Harry laughs. You aim a weak swat at his chest. He snickers, catching your palm and ducking down to drop a gentle kiss against your knuckles. You exhale shakily, twisting your body around so that you can face him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, running your free hand through his dishevelled curls.

He cocks one eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?”

You scoff. “Shut up.”

He chuckles quietly and steps closer to you, holding out his mug. You smile in assent, mirroring his movements and clinking your cups together.

“So,” Harry starts, sipping his tea casually, “you gonna let me take you out on a proper date, sometime?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to ignore the flurry of butterflies flapping around in your stomach. “I’ll go—but only if we take my car. I refuse to drive around town in your tacky truck.”

“It’s not that bad!” he protests.

“It’s awful,” you tell him, shaking your head. “It looks it was decorated by a preschooler during arts and crafts.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes playfully, giving in. “Any other requests?”

You pause, lost in thought.

“One more, actually,” you say, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You need to come clean to Mindy and Gerald.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Alright.”

“Really?” You balk, taken aback by his compliance. “That’s it? But I—I had a whole speech prepared.”

Harry laughs softly, cradling your face with his free hand and kissing you slowly. Your fingers tighten around your mug. When the two of you break apart for air, he shrugs.

“I started considering it after everything that happened last night. Keep your speech, though.” His lips twitch. “You’ll be needing to scold me again in no time, I’m sure.”

Your shoulders shake with a silent giggle. “You’re probably right.”

“Also—” Harry clears his throat, soothing the ache with another sip of tea. “You may want to suggest that they hire an exterminator.”

“An exterminator?” you repeat, blinking in surprise. “But…they don’t have rats. Gerald said that the traps hadn’t been touched.”

“Not rats,” he hums. “Squirrels, I believe. Living in the walls.”

“And how did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while, babe—I’ve seen my fair share of pests. Plus,” he clucks his tongue, “they like to chew on wires.”

“Really?” You sigh distantly, pinching your bottom lip. “God, that sucks.”

“It does.” He nods, wrapping his fingers around your forearm. “But you can tell them later.”

“Later?” you say, brows knitting together. “Why not right now?”

“Because,” Harry grunts. You squeal when he crowds you up against your front door. He cups your jaw and tilts your chin up with his thumb, handsome face splitting into an easy, salacious grin.

“Right now, I’m taking you back to bed.”

~*~

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! and as always, don’t forget to share your thoughts. thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #spookrry #harry writing #ok here it is 🙃 i lowkey feel like its gonna flop but w/e

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.3; Lantern Rite Part 2

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day ;)

........

--Can feel your emotions...emotions cannot be permanently ignored...fall on deaf ears...early grave... Xiao scoffed and downed the rest of his tea before forcefully setting the cup back down onto the table. "You think admitting my alleged feelings for a mortal human would solve the problem?"

"She's done her part, now it is your turn," Zhongli straightened. "If you fail to do so, I fear she will perish from your karmic debt in no time at all. If what you say is true, it's a miracle she's still alive. Your admittance would seal the bond, as it would eliminate the side effects altogether."

Xiao's head whipped in the direction of the playing of an instrument note, but was only greeted with the joyful screams of children running around nearby. "Tch. How annoying," he played his mishearing off and returned to his normal sitting position. A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again. "I would only be prolonging her untimely demise. If we stay together, if she stays by my side, my sins will affect her with or without the bond."

"That is correct."

The archon was never one to sugarcoat things. "It would be selfish of me to admit to those emotions, selfish to indulge in them--she would die at my hand."

"Yes."

"Then why should I seal the bond, if us getting closer seals her fate?" The yaksha's voice nearly cracked, but he hid it well with his piercing gaze as he questioned his master. "Why?"

"How long do you plan on protecting Liyue?"

The random question made the yaksha falter. "For as long as our contract endures." What a silly question--it wasn't even for debate. It was his duty to protect Liyue, to absolve his sins and pay thanks to the archon that redeemed him. Why would Zhongli bring it up now?

"How much longer can you protect those who reside in Liyue? How long until the cracks begin to form within you, too?"

'Just as my fallen friends...' Xiao searched his master's eyes for a moment before parting his lips. "I--"

"I do not know the end of your story, Xiao, but I brought your unruly fate upon you. When the time comes for you to face the same darkness that's consumed you, you cannot face it alone."

.........................

Zhongli watched the three of you push your way through the crowd to greet him, his eyes narrowing at you in particular. "I see you have found your other teammates," he nodded approvingly.

"Yeah." You hadn't stopped scanning the crowd, and didn't so much as look his way despite being prodded by Aether.

"Something's wrong with her," the boy warned Zhongli. "She's not--"

"Do not concern yourself, traveler. She will be just fine."

"Huh?" Paimon grumbled. "What do you mean by that? Have you no concern for her?"

"We've convened earlier today. I will inform you, but first..." His eyes slid back to you, and he raised his voice to catch your attention. "You wish to see him?"

"Hm? U-um, yes..." His piercing gaze saw right through you, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. "What?"

"I'd advise you to leave the harbor," he nodded to the mountainside that was on the other side of the city gates. You nodded a quick thanks before running away at full speed.

I'm here, Xiao. But the yaksha didn't need to hear your impolite prayers to know that you were, when he could hear the distinct conversations of the people you ran past even though he was literal miles away from the harbor.

..............

You felt him before you saw him. Sitting on the rocky hill that overlooked the guarded entrance of Liyue Harbor, you peered over your shoulder to find the one person you had longed to see all day. The yaksha stopped in his tracks when you met his eyes.

"What...are you doing here?" It was like he was uncertain if he was hallucinating, eyes narrowing cynically as you stood to greet him. It was clear that he was weary from his day-long battle, but any pure exhaustion was hidden behind his tough façade.

"Childe brought me back for the Lantern Rite," you caught him snarling when you said the harbinger's name. "I--"

Your vision was suddenly obscured by his face once he appeared before you at the speed of light. His hand gingerly traced your cheek, a rare gentleness, a fondness seeping through his cynical eyes. You hadn't realized how much you had been craving his touch; your hand kept him from removing his from your cheek. How long had it been? Two weeks? It had to have been three by now, but it felt like an eternity from how much you had to deal with Childe or watch people die.

Real, Xiao's lips twitched into an unnoticeable smile, but the light in his eyes was bright as day. The two of you stood with foreheads pressed together for who knows how long until the yaksha was the one to pull away and regain his neutral composure. His eyes floated to that of the dark ocean before landing on the small lantern that sat next to your viewing rock.

"They'll be releasing them soon," you say, noticing his gaze. "I meant to make two, but it turns out its REALLY hard to make them..."

"Mm." He acknowledged you before sitting on the left side of the rock, silently prompting you to join him.

You did. "H-hey, is that blood?" You finally noticed the smear on his right cheek, worry entering your voice. "Are you okay? Here, let me see--"

"It's not mine." Xiao leaned away from your hand and wiped the smudge away himself.

Back to pushing me away, you faltered back, wavering eyes refocusing their attention on the black horizon to distract yourself from the hurt that panged in your chest. You sat on your hands as if to close yourself off from him--to restrain yourself from invading his personal space.

I did it again. Xiao inwardly cursed himself out for causing the sad look in your eyes. It's not like he meant to. He's too used to shutting people out for their safety; he's too accustomed to being alone. Xiao watched you out of the corner of his eye before finally gathering the courage to speak. She needs to know.

"I need you to understand," he started, sending you a brief glance before facing the ocean again. "Yakshas accumulate karma from the eons of slaughter we're tasked with. It eats away at our souls, corrupts us, or drives us mad. We become the monsters we're meant to destroy. Outsiders, companions, anyone who gets too close, will share and suffer that karma. It is why I order you and Aether to leave, and it is why I keep everyone at a distance."

You watched him continue to carefully sort his thoughts out. He's never talked so much without your prompting.

"None of us have had, nor will have, a happy ending. This is our fate. And it will be your fate too, if you continue to stay at my side. The karma I've accumulated will only grow in future years, and you won't be a stranger to it."

Your shoulders dropped. Is he...Is he going to leave me completely? Is he going to push me away for good?

Xiao heard your worries, and he briefly met your eyes again. "Could you still love a yaksha, while knowing this information? While knowing your fate will be sealed, and you won't find peace?"

"Of course."

"This isn't a light decision," Xiao admonished and rotated his body slightly to face you. "You cannot--" Do humans not understand danger?

"Xiao." The determination in your eyes made his next words stick to his throat. "I've already thought about it long and hard. I've seen your past. I've felt some of your pain. Even if this bond thing doesn't 'seal'--whatever that means--even if I am stuck with hearing those awful voices for the rest of my life, I will never be able to stop my feelings for you. Even if you don't return my feelings. I've come to accept all of it."

Could Xiao bring himself to admit his feelings if there was a high chance that fate would set its cruel sights on you? You could say all this now, but you've only felt the karma for a month. What happens in a year from now? A decade? A century? Your life wouldn't be as short as a humans because of his blood...Could he find it in him to confess if you were driven mad and he, ridden with guilt from causing your downfall? Sealing the bond wouldn't guarantee that the voices would leave you, and it definitely wouldn't make you immune to his karma. Xiao had thought he had decided on confessing, but now that he saw that raw, naïve determination in your gaze, maybe it was better that he kept it to himself for your safety--

"Do you trust me, Xiao?" His attention snapped back to you. "You felt my love for you in Zapolyarny Palace, didn't you? If you did, then you know my feelings are genuine..."

That's right...your feelings were so warm back then, and the way you had hugged him close...He felt his own version when he had heard your moonsong. 'How long can you continue protecting Liyue? When the time comes for you to face the same darkness that's consumed you, you cannot face it alone. Zhongli was righ--Archons, forget it. You had never lied to him, and he doubted you'd ever plan on doing so in the future. You were still just as stubborn as all those years ago on your deathbed of bloody soil; that aspect of you never changed. And if you were this stubborn, it wouldn't make sense for him to label your decision as a half-hearted, half-thought out answer.

Xiao examined you carefully for a silent minute, not quite listening to the words that flew out of your mouth. He didn't know how much longer he could stand tall against the swarms of darkness that swirled in his heart; he liked to think he could do so for another millennia, but that could change with one wrong move, one wrong thought, or one misplacement in willpower. But maybe as Zhongli said, he could find a new purpose, a new ray of light that could help him continue his duty if the day for evil to overwhelm him ever comes.

The yaksha couldn't quite find a place in the mortal realm, but he was curious on how it worked, how the humans were, what kind of customs they created. His karma made it impossible to quell that curiosity, and equally as dangerous for mortals. But he met you, that four year old girl that didn't do anything but provoke his curiosity and longing for kinship further. And then he really got to know you, all those months ago--what made you tick much like the other humans, the way you smiled, how you had the same sense of humor as him, the aggressive and the kind sides of your personality that clashed together to form this perfect, messy example of how humans worked.

Maybe he found out where to start when it came to you mortals, and that starting line was with you. You shone at the end of the tunnel, a beacon for safety and dare he call a symbol of peace that he could come home to. Xiao's eyes never left you as you continued to ramble on.

"--Then, I suppose, I could love you." The yaksha muttered the words like they tasted sour, but his eyes were soft when they landed on you.

"I--You--Huh?" You had thought he was trying to pull away from you for good, but this? He was confessing? Your oblivious mind wouldn't have guessed this would happen...So this is what Zhongli was inferring earlier!

"What?" Xiao narrowed his eyes and looked away as if he were embarrassed. "It's not that significant," he pouted. "Humans are flustered too easily by the smallest matters." Despite his crimson cheeks and beet-red ears, he found it difficult to fight back a smile when he saw the ridiculous look on your face.

"You..." Faint lights shone down on your little moment, and you glanced up to find that the lanterns were being released. "Wow, look!" You rose to your feet and stared at the distant lanterns before remembering that you had one of your own. Your gaze dropped to it, and an idea struck you. "Xiao...would you like to do this one together?" You picked it up and lit it with the match you had in your pocket.

"I still don't understand why humans discard their trash into the ocean," he muttered before standing as well. He watched the small flame burn brighter as it sat in your hands. "What's the point?"

"The lanterns represent our wishes and thanks to the adepti," you explained and gestured for him to take hold of the other side of the lantern. He reluctantly did so, but curiosity overcame him and he patiently listened to you with a slight childlike wonder in his eyes. "As for why we chose lanterns, I think it's just because they're pretty."

"Hmph."

"Do you have any wishes for the archons? We're supposed to write them on the lantern," you pulled a small pen out from your back pocket and uncapped it, offering the other end to him.

"Adepti don't go by your mortal ideals," he scoffed.

His clear distaste for your question drew a laugh from your lips. "I figured there was no harm in asking again! Okay. Even if you don't have a wish, let's release it, yeah? One, two, three..." The two of you gently pushed the lantern into the air, where it slowly made its journey to join the rest of its companions that now floated all around you.

"You didn't write your wish," he commented, his brows furrowing in confusion. How dare you ask him to write a wish, yet you did no such thing. The hypocrisy of humans!

"Why would I need to if it already came true?" You gave him a smirk before facing the sky. "They're so pretty," you marveled, nearly making yourself dizzy from staring straight up. "Don't you think so?"

"Mm." He agreed, but he was only looking at you. It took you a few minutes before you could gather the courage to return his gaze, feeling his stare while you watched the lanterns sparkle like the stars. Well, it was also when your neck got tired.

You returned your eyes to the yaksha only to find him staring hard at you with an unreadable expression. "W-what?"

"You're serious about me, even if it ends up killing you?" He still couldn't understand why...Wouldn't self-preservation be what everyone chooses when put in a perilous situation? Is this human stupidity, or is there some type of logic behind your trust that he failed to grasp?

You blinked, facing him fully. "One hundred percent." I don't need to think twice about my answer, but he's still concerned about me? "Xiao, do you trust me?"

He didn't answer and instead approached you after a few beats of silence until you almost breathed the same air. He was visibly struggling with something, but as for what, you had no idea. He allowed himself to slide a hand through your hair and play with the strands before it settled against the nape of your neck. He pulled you closer until his lips grazed across your eyelids. He ignored the shocked gasp that left your parted lips and let his brush across your other eyelid before they settled against the spot between your brows.

He then pulled away, his head resting against your forehead, and for a second you wondered if any of that was real until you managed to snap out of your daze. "D-did you just...? Xiao...?"

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao fanfiction #valentines day #genshin impact xiao

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