#i simply am a menace and have no self control

[mushiewrites]

Omg I have one I have one!

The dynamic difference of bold lee!dream and shy lee!george sbfkndkaa

Like just imagine like on one hand, anytime Dream feels himself in a pretty bad lee mood, he can pretty easily go and ask Sapnap for tickles with just a tiny bit of psyche up. But on the other hand, George is in the most hardcore lee mood he's had in his life and can't even utter the word near any of his friends.

George getting irritated and jealous and flustered as he watches Dream openly ask for tickles in front of him. And Dream smirking as he watches George desperately trying to get his thoughts across, feeling maybe he should help him out but nahhh this is too much fun.

Both Dream AND George finding themselves in a lee mood at the same time. Dream bringing George along with him to ask Sapnap if both of them can have tickles, but not telling George that's what they were doing before hand. George fucking DYING as the words leave Dream's mouth, flushing and desperately waving his arms to explain to Sapnap that this wasn't his idea and Dream tricked him, but way deep down George has never been more excited ahdjbdjsjs

-emmadoodlewrites

okay okay ): my heart my baby georgenotfound my favorite little shy lee ): my big bold lee dreamwastaken ): my babies ):

first of all this made my heart hurt in the best way. like….so warm. it’s funny because i also hc that george would be shy and dream would be more bold (i am 99.9% sure you know this already). which is also funny bc irl george is so unhinged and dream is so stubborn you’d think it would be the other way around. but nooooooo, tks are different

the fact that dream mentally tortures george when dream knows he’s lee by asking for tks himself is a whole new level of cruel. he knows how lee george is but he knows that he will. not. ask. and so dream shows him how easy it is, laughing his lil heart out as george can do nothing but sit there and watch and yearn (i mean he could just ask but……)

but the fact that dream decides to take pity on him and round him up to go see sap???? only for the words “sap can you please tk us?” to pierce through george’s ears??? his eyes would get so wide and it would cause a flood of excuses and stutters and denials to spill out from within him before he could even properly register that sapnap had immediately agreed. once that finally gets into his head his mouth clamps shut, his cheeks are bright pink and suddenly his eyes are glued to the floor and his hands are strung together, fidgeting his fingers together aimlessly bc he just is so. fucking. fLUstERED!!!!!!!!

sapnap and dream just guide him towards the bed, dream laying down first and sapnap gently pushing george down to follow suit as the youngest boy climbs up to straddle the oldest. (dream can handle himself, he loves tks too much to move away). and all george can do is brace himself, grab dreams hand and hold on for dear life as sapnap begins digging into their tummies, both giggling and kicking away without a care in the world 🥺

#lee!george #lee!dream #ler!sapnap #emmadoodlewrites #asks #): #my babies #my dnf heart #my dreamnapnotfound heart or whatever the fuck their ship name is #also obviously…..emma did not #mean this to be a ship thing #i simply am a menace and have no self control #dream is also a menace #he just wants george to get the tks he deserves ): #mushie concepts / hcs #mcyt tickle #thank u emma for the ask ):

[toruro]

how confident i am that i'd beat svt in a fight

7/10 because i'd usually beat cheol UNLESS he has a good reason to fight me. then he's putting his all in and i won't be making it out in one piece.

sorry idc if jeonghan is a menace while playing games i'll literally pull his hair and he's down. 10/10

joshua would be annoying about it. "you can't expect me to hit a girl—" floored. on the ground. 9/10 but realistically 6/10 because i'm scared of his arms.

jun wouldn't hurt me he'd admit defeat so that's an automatic 10/10

giving a 8.7/10 to hoshi because i have a feeling he might bite me

wonwoo is like a solid 9/10. has all that shoulder length and for what. he won't know how to use it

woozi gets a 0/10 maybe even a -3490923/10 if possible

unfortunately dokyeom is too nice. i love him. i wouldn't even fight him so he doesn't get a score

i'm bitching mingyu. i don't care if he's a foot taller than me. 20/10.

minghao also doesn't get a score because i would simply eat him.

seungkwan is all talk no game i'd be victorious immediately except i'm giving him a 9/10 because he might scream so loud i'd have to step away

vernon wouldn't even know we're fighting. 10/10

okay people don't believe me when i say dino is terrifying but like ... the only reason svt isn't up in smithereens rn is because has self control. i just KNOW he can fight and he's sparing svt bc it's svt. if i fought him and he's not holding back, i'm giving myself a 1/10

#svt #seventeen #scoups #jeonghan #joshua #svt junhui #woozi #hoshi #wonwoo #mingyu #dokyeom #minghao #seungkwan #lee chan #dino #vernon #📃 lists

[iambicpentameterhamster]

Every umbrella academy character ranked

Prior to Season 4 coming this year, thought I'd share my character rank with you for the first 3 seasons all together. (Spoilers ahead)

#33- Marcus, Jayme, Alphonso and Fei

Painfully insignificant and underdeveloped. Their only character traits being "spoiled and a bit evil" made them EXTREMELY captivating villians...

#32- Christopher

Only higher because I find the idea of someone carrying around a cube on a stick onset really funny.

#31- Sparrow Ben

Hard to watch honestly, especially in comparison to his lovely counterpart Umbrella Ben.

In general, the Sparrows were terrible and pointless characters, and clearly the writers knew this because most were killed off pretty quickly. All except for Sparrow Ben, which just meant we had to suffer watching him for even longer.

#30- Viktor

This is a controversial choice. He is tolerable in season 1, but then just becomes a moochy emo sod who is boring to watch. I don't know if it's the acting, script or both, but he’s just such a meek and flavourless character who is PARTICULARLY bad in season 3 when he jeopardises his whole family and is repeatedly selfish and has a victim complex.

#29- Luther

He caused the apocalypse in season one and you can't convince me otherwise. Got some alamaba shit going on with Allison...

There are so many reasons I hate Luther. He's a self-centred man child who couldn't care less about his siblings and their feelings, showing zero empathy to Klaus or Vanya, for example. He only shows respect and kindness when he is attracted to the person (As shown when seasons 1 and 2 he is only nice to Allison, then completely ignores her when he moves on to Sloane) or when they pose as an authority figure to him. All he does is whine and feel sorry for himself.

What's that? You lived in the apocalypse all alone for 40 years? You are addicted to drugs and lost the love of your life in a war? You have a power you can't control and a lifetime of rejection? WELL LUTHER WENT TO THE MOON

#28- Carl Cooper

Hated him as a character but he was a menacing villian which I can respect

#27- Harlan

Couldn't care less about him, only there for plot convenience and Victor's arc pretty much

#26- Sloane

An improvement from Luther's literal sibling. Further evidence that Luther will simply fall for any woman who gives a flying fuck about the moon.

Personality: attracted to Luther

#25- Pogo

Basil exposition of the first series

#24- Detective Patch

Barely remember her

#23- The Swedes

They were kind of goofy as villians but there was some good acting and they posed a real threat. Cute moments with the cats. In general, alright, but they could have easily been replaced plot wise with something more interesting.

#22- Cha Cha

Lack of character development for me. I think she deserved to be fleshed out more, I don't think it's fair that only her partner got to be a three-dimensional being. What are her motivations? Who is she underneath it all?

But overall i liked the acting and she was a good villian.

#21- That hotel worker from season 3

He's barely a character but I liked his sass so he's on the list.

#20- Reggie (Reginald Hargreeves)

He is supposed to be the main antagonist/villian of the show, yet The Handler stole his spotlight. He's a bit too stereotypically evil and asshole-ish for me, basically twiddling his moustache and stroking a cat in a dark corner the entire show. The delivery is too blunt and that doesn't help to build the tension and mystery surrounding him as much, but if he were more complicated and cryptic in his personality it would be more effective.

This is very nit picky and overall Reggie is fine. He has some hilarious moments with Klaus in season 3 and I am genuinely intrigued about the unanswered questions surrounding him.

#19- Elliott

He wasn't a particularly important or central character but I enjoyed it when he was on screen and he played his role convincingly. He was a good comic relief in some scenes, and when he died (spoiler alert) the reactions from other characters were realistic and quite impactful. I felt for him throughout, which is impressive for less significant characters and he had a lot of depth relative to the size of his role.

#18- Destiny's children

Not a singular character, but I LOVED Destiny's children. It fit Klaus's character perfectly to have a cult and led to some of the funnies moments in the series.

#17- Dave

From the very limited moments we see with this character, a lot of personality and emotion was communicated, and I feel like we got a big sense of the character. That is down to the brilliant acting from both of Dave's actors and from Robert Sheehan that really sold this character with so little screen time.

Anyway please come back to life Dave! Death doesn't look good on you!

#16- Agnes (Donut woman)

Very sweet and I wish her all the best in life.

#15- Sissy

BRILLIANTLY acted and impactful. Stole every scene between her and Vanya.

Also, she looks EXACTLY like Sheldon's mum in young sheldon...

#14- Herb and Dot

I want to put them both in my pocket and protect them from harm.

#13- Kenny's mum

Again, barely present but I love her. She's a queen. I would go to a rave with Kenny's Mum.

#12- Stan

I love Stan, and he's a big part of Diego and Lila's character development and motivations. I hope they adopt Stan and live happily ever after.

But yeah, great one-liners from Stan.

#11- Grace

Very well acted and haunting.

Top 10 *drumroll please*

#10- Harold Jenkins (Lenoard Peabody)

Again, quite a controversial placement, but I stand by my decision. The acting and delivery of Harold Jenkins as a villain is possibly the best in the whole show. I was totally convinced Lenoard was a nice guy and I was rooting for him and Vanya, until he started dropping hints and slowly revealing his true self and losing the facade and its... it's chefs kiss. So realistic. The actor deserves an award and a standing ovation.

The writers also deserve a pat on the back for this one because he has a convincing motivation and backstory, and the dialogue is DELICIOUS when it comes to Lenoard. He is a truly menacing villain without being overtly scary and powerful and dangerous.

#9- Ray

Charismatic, gentlemanly, empathetic, loving, trusting, supportive... Ray is THE IDEAL MAN. I'm a little bit in love with Ray so I don't blame Allison.

HUGE step up from Luther, for sure.

#8- Umbrella Ben

I would have liked to see more of his character, but I liked what I did see. He loves his siblings and shows it. He is selfless and sacrifices his own existence for Vanya, he is blunt with Klaus because he cares and wants him to improve. Of course, he and Klaus are also a hilarious duo.

#7- Hazel

One of the most touching arcs that offers an insightful message about what life is for, and about Love. Beautifully acted, a very real and lovable character who probably resonates with many in some ways. Hazel is adorable and i miss him in later seasons.

#6- The Handler

I LOVE THE HANDLER MORE THAN WORDS CAN EXPLAIN!!! Funny, playful, entertaining, uexpected and whimsical and yet simultaneously dark and menacing, AMAZING villian that stole EVERY SINGLE SCENE she was in. Kate Walsh was the perfect choice for the role and she played it to perfection.

A bit of trivia about the role, The Handler was originally written for a man, and when Kate Walsh got the role she insisted they didn't change the script (which, let's be honest, they would have.) She put a wonderful spin on it and it's just perfect, I wouldn't change a thing. I would 100% watch a spinoff all about the handler. Season 3 was worse than the previous two thanks to them killing her off (amongst other questionable plot choices)

#5- Allison

Allison was the only character who knew what they were doing, and honestly, if everyone just listened to Allison, there would be no apocalypse. Her storyline losing both Claire and Ray and her powers driving her crazy with power breaks my heart but is well portrayed and impactful.

She's charismatic, clever, strong, and kind. I love Allison and I think most of us do.

#4- Diego

He's stupid but in an endearing way, I find him to be so entertaining and funny, and the actor's face is like an open book. He's not show-stopping but his consistent presence just sets the mood and allows others to act off of him, while he really sells it with his expressions. He's like the rock of the show.

#3- Lila

Lila. Mi amor. Mon amour. Amore mio. Meine Leibe.

#2- Five

For several reasons:

A) He is the daddy here, Luther!!

B) That should be the only reason you need

Seriously, though, I was SUPER impressed with Aidan Gallagher and his incredible screen presence, especially at such a young age. He really embodies the character. Five is the face of the Umbrella Acadamy, and is undoubtedly the most iconic character. 10/10, two thumbs up, absolutely BRILLIANT.

#1- Klaus

No justification necessary.

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #allison hargreeves #lila pitts #ben hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #raymond chestnut #the handler #the sparrow academy

[raisethestake]

Hatred?

Sirius Black x reader (NSFW)

18+ only please

If you want a THIRST story, here you go.

From a few years back, but may as well put it into the world for anyone simping for Sirius as hard as I do.

Warnings: dominance, light BDSM, full on sex, suggestions of abuse.

Character backstory here (not relevant to enjoy this story, but might provide more insight):

Hatred?

She heard footsteps, and instantly prepared herself for the worst.

A few moments later, Sirius appeared at the dining room door, where she was cleaning the stove. Her hair was tied back messily and her hands were covered in black muck. She returned her attention to scrubbing after brief acknowledgement of his presence, seemingly unwilling to begin a conversation, so Sirius took this liberty.

Bad idea.

"You realize the dirt has been made by magical creatures? You can't remove it permanently." Sirius was right. For the past few days, she had been so tense that any words exchanged between them had led to an argument. She seemed to have taken to rising and going to bed later and later just to avoid his presence, and frankly he'd had enough.

"Do you realize there's also a hell of a lot of plain dirt from the fact that since living here you've not even lifted a finger?" She didn't even have to look up to deliver such a retort, and its infuriated Sirius all the more.

He scaled the side of the long room, down to where she was, picked up her bucket of water and began to make his way to the back door, when he felt a burning sensation. She had her hand wrapped around his wrist, exuding so much energy it was scorching his skin. He tried to snatch his hand away but she held firm, her eyes finally meeting his. He'd got her attention.

"Give it back. I'm busy." Her voice seemed to come out as a menacing growl. Sirius fought back a strong urge to give her back the bucket. If he hasn't had so many years practice with Remus' wolf speech, he would've given in. Instead, he managed to use his free arm to open the closest window and toss the bucket out.

He expected her to attack him, but she simply let go of him and attempted to make her way to the kitchen to get another. He discreetly pointed his wand and whispered a barrier spell, smirking a little when she was unable to walk down the stairs. She stood on the first step and every inch of his skin burned as she looked at him with shining golden eyes.

"Why are you trying to stop me from being useful?"

"Because you’re only doing it to avoid me." Sirius stated confidently. He refused to let her get her way this time.

"So, I'm useless."

"I didn't say that. I said cleaning is useless"

"Why are you trying to control what I'm doing? I'm my own person not a fucking servant"

"A fucking servant would do a better job"

At this, she snapped. She took a step back from the stairs and advanced on him. "How am I supposed to do a better fucking job if you won't let me?!"

"You-"

"You offered me this house as my home! And you do nothing but act like a self-righteous brat who fucking owns the place!"

"I do own the-"

"Then treat the people in your home with some fucking respect!"

Sirius hated when she interrupted him. She seemed to be the only person who had the nerve to, which just fuelled his anger. "Look at you talking! If this is your home too, why don't you treat me with some fucking respect?"

"You don't deserve it!"

"Right, okay. I don't deserve respect but don't think you have a permanent place here.” Sirius instantly regretted his words as she finally broke her gaze away from his, a trace of hurt in her eyes.

"Yeah, sure. You can guarantee I'll be gone by the morning." She began to walk out of the room. He'd fucked it. He didn't mean that last comment. If she was to leave, things would go back to the way they were. Drawling days and lonely nights, just him and Kreacher. The rooms would no longer fill with music and geranium oils, but the same old dust mites and musty stench; his voice would crack when greeting someone after days on end of silence.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't go back to normal. The thought alone filled him with an aggression he couldn’t contain.

What he did next even surprised him. He moved before he had the chance to think, grabbed the back of her neck, and pulled her into a violent kiss. A few moments passed, and he could have sworn she started to kiss him back, when yet another sharp pain shot through his body. She had bitten his lip. Her neck still in his grasp, she pulled away by lowering her head onto his chest - the only way to separate their lips.

"Sirius, you can't do that." She said in a low, quiet voice.

"I can and I know you won't stop me." He felt like he had no control over his own body as he watched himself swallow down the taste of blood and pull her mouth back onto his. They continued to kiss - he was right. She was kissing him back. He dared to loosen his hold on her neck, and she didn't pull away. In fact, he wasn't sure she'd even noticed he'd practically let go. He used both of his now free hands to rub down the back of her thighs, pick her up and set her on the table with her legs spread.

"I could kill you right now." He heard her growl as he grabbed her hips and pulled her pelvis in to meet his.

He leaned over her, pushing her back, one hand keeping a firm hold on her backside, and said with a smirk "You definitely could but you don't want to."

"Oh, believe me, I want to."

As he pulled her in for another rough kiss, he ran his hand down her torso, down her pelvis and slid his fingers over her dripping pussy. "Oh, I can tell you want to." He said with a sly grin.

"I have a boyfriend, Sirius!"

Sirius grasped her jaw and pulled her gaze up to meet his. "Then tell me, right now, to stop."

Her eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, but she held his gaze firmly. "...I have a boyfriend, Sirius."

He held her gaze as he proceeded to slide his fingers inside her. He heard the smallest intake of breath as her whole body tensed. "Tell me you want me to stop."

She seemed to stare into his soul for a moment - her eyes filled with hatred. Sirius took the silence as a cue to kiss her again. He noticed her writhing unwillingly under his touch as his fingers moved inside her.

A few minutes passed, leaving them both panting and barely able to contain themselves - thirsty for more. His brutal side long having taken over, he pushed her further onto the table and climbed on top of her - using one hand to pin her wrists above her head, and pressed his hard cock into her body - letting out a low groan as he did so.

He kissed her again as he grinded against her. Their muscles seem to work in harmony. Her abs contracted with arousal and he noticed she had closed her eyes, seemingly in the moment. Overcome with greed, he released his grip on her to take off his shirt. She tried to bring her legs together to slide off the bench, but Sirius had his legs strategically placed so she was completely immobile from the waist down. He unzipped his pants and released his hard cock from his boxers. He leaned over her, breathing heavily into her neck as he pushed himself inside her. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, and he just made out the words "You fucking vile bastard" through a sigh of pleasure, causing him to scowl.

"Useless whore." Grunting in pain from a sharp nip on his neck, he grabbed her hair and fucked her as hard as he desired.

• • •

She had not expected this.

Since a few weeks back, when Sirius had offered her a home, he had had a few fits of anger. Mainly from people shutting down his ideas or playing it safe in meetings. She had been told to always keep her distance when this happened. Other people turned their backs, ignored him or became extremely interested in the closest book. They seemed convinced this was the best way to calm him down, and she had followed this tactic with the determination of becoming a good housemate. They were, of course, right, but she'd had enough of treating him like a child. Over the past few days, she'd begun to put him in his place, and he did not like it.

Whenever he made a snide comment, she pulled him up on it instead of letting it slide. She forced him to eat proper sized meals instead of picking at a block of cheese from the fridge, and made him carry a fully charged phone whenever he left the house without an explanation. It was probably the hardest challenge she has ever taken on, and she had been dragged into the underworld to make Hades his very own pet sun. All the same, she found herself compelled to see it through.

But this? I mean, a few minutes ago she had been cleaning as she did almost on the daily. Now she was lying under Sirius Black on the kitchen table getting fucked to oblivion. However, it's not as though she was complaining.

Wait. No. Of course she was complaining! Charlie was the most perfect boy you'd ever meet. He was outdoorsy, had the most charming grin and never failed to crack her up with his humour. She loved Charlie. She had always been certain. She loved his family, they worked well together and never really fought. It was perfect. So why was she suddenly questioning that whole relationship? The feeling right now was brand new. Something strange in her body. She was almost certain it was just plain old hate, but there was something different - she couldn't put her finger on what.

He had the strength of a berserker. He was able to hold her down even with one hand, his heavy hands grasping firmly. They owned her body so confidently she almost begged for more before stopping herself. She told herself she wouldn't let him get any satisfaction from this, but the more she resisted, the harder he seemed to get.

At one point she thought he'd had enough. He pushed himself off her and left her wrists go. Feeling a little let down at this early finish, she almost forgot to take this opportunity to get away. She tried to slide off the table, but Sirius had pushed his legs out into a certain position which meant she literally couldn't move at all. It was when she felt his cock enter her that she completely gave in.

"You fucking vile bastard." She heard herself say, and heard the response "Shut up you ugly, useless whore." She pushed her pelvis up, hoping she hit his balls for this comment. Sure enough, he let out a groan in pain, and pushed his cock in even deeper.

Thoughts were forgotten and instinct took over. It was only afterwards that she was able to process what happened.

She should have felt guilty. She was very much cheating on her boyfriend. But in that moment, all she could feel was bliss. She opened her eyes for a second and saw Sirius looked the exact same way. She didn't understand how she felt so good. There was nothing but tension and hatred between herself and Sirius. They could barely be in the same room most of the time. How had she ended up in this situation, and why did she like it?

Besides, Sirius was almost twice her age. Trivial things like age had never mattered in the demigod world, but she was in the wizarding world now. She had to get accustomed to the things that were different, and she was sure this would be looked down upon should anyone find out.

When Sirius started to slow a little, probably nearing climax, she pushed him off. He allowed her to sit all the way up, and, standing again, she pushed him over to the kitchen counter. She used one hand to cup his jaw, the other to caress his cock. Looking powerfully into his eyes, he got the message and started to sink to the floor. She straddled his lap and sat on him, letting him sink inside her again. She rode him deep ad she stripped off her cami and let him kiss between her tits.

When Sirius was too desperate to wait, he grabbed her waist, held her close to him and maneuvered them so he was on top of her, lying on the floor. Both were nearing climax and fucked until creamy white fluid dripped out of her vagina onto the cold slate floor. Sirius collapsed on top of her, panting into her neck for a few moments, before kissing all the way down her torso and finishing with a single lick of her vulva.

He knelt up and they stared at each other in silence, both still panting. Still lying on the floor, she crossed her legs defiantly, as if to say 'No more.' As Sirius set his back against the counter, She knelt up and began to get dressed. Wiping Sirius’ blood from her mouth, she picked up the blackened cloth that had been forgotten, wiped the fluid off the floor, and made her way down to the kitchen to wash. Sirius, aware that he was now covered in black dirt from her hands, grabbed his clothes and head up the stairs to shower.

#harry potter headcanon #harry potter fic #harry potter #harry potter smut #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black headcanon #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x you

[shigarakisslutbag]

This isnt directly a request but if you do end up getting inspiration out of this then im glad! (wouldn't complain lol) Imagine how Shiggy would act if some villain with a big loving heart came in and just- somewhat adopted him. Shiggy gets injured? They're there soothing and scolding him. Ranting about video games or heroes? They're patiently listening. Makes my heart so happy negl.

Omg anon I actually really like this idea lol. I have no idea how I would write it as a fic or even organized headcanons BUT I will most certainly give you my disorganized thoughts on this because I have no self control.

APOLOGIES because I'm writing this at 1:33pm and I am very tired (but will likely not sleep until 3am.), THEREFORE, I probably have many typos because I didn't proof read an I am so sorry lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy my thoughts on this, feel free to add anything, I don't mind going back and forth on this topic (this goes for anyone btw! Not just anon. I love hearing everyone's thoughts on concepts I write for)

I feel like in this scenario of reader being a villain, reader's motives are either out of spite towards their hatred for capitalism or they're just kind of... goofy...and unhinged... in a bad way .. thatcopsandheroesdontlike YOU GET THE PICTURE OK? (Use your imagination bestie)

But regaRDLESS, you have a huge soft spot (and maybe some hard spots;) ) for shigaraki.

Which actually just ends up with you having a lot of compassion and care towards him. You can tell he's been through a lot. anyone can. and seeing him having clear struggles in his physical life and internal conflicts, you can't help but want to, well, help him.

I won't go into a huge back story because I simply... am tired LOL. But somewhere along the way shigaraki let you grace him with your presence.

So now you're here with your adopted introverted son and guiding him through his life full of terrorism, tyrants, and genocide 🫶 (you don't quite understand how he's both introverted and a menace to society at the same time. Shigaraki is what happens when an introvert just gets really fed up with capitalism ig)

BUT I DIGRESS

Shigaraki actually really appreciates you're presence. Will he admit it? FUCK NO LMAO. he'd rather twist his eyelids off and eat them before telling your annoying ass he appreciates you. But he does. Just trust me, he does.

Besides spinner, no one really listens to his rants about video games, players, the fall of society. Dabi refers to him as "a cartoon villain on heroin who monologues " shigaraki didn't like that very much

But you listen. You really listen. You ask him questions, you validate his feelings and concerns, you make sure he knows that he's making progress, ect. You don't just hear what he says, you listen. You engage. Which is something he's needed for a very long time.

Especially when he gets injured, is when he gets the most attention from you. Honestly sometimes he wants to hurt himself just hear you cry over him LOL. He's low-key obsessed with you but don't ever bring it up if you notice.

Like the one time he came back to the bar after the U.S.J incident, all bloody with bullets wounds, you were... not handling it well to say the least. Lol. Shigaraki was fine, just chilling on the floor cursing the hero bastards, as he calls them. But you were "dramatic" as shigaraki says. "I'll be fine I'll just stick some bread in bullet holes and cover them with plastic wrap"

???

????!!!!

SHIGARAKI YOU SUPID FUCK

You, much to his dismay, disinfected the wound with alcohol and with kurogiris help stitched up the wounds and wrapped them with a compression bandage and made him rest while checking in every so often to change out his gauze and bandages and cleaning the wounds again.

You also checked in quite a bit to make sure he was hydrated (with water because all the idiot drinks are energy drinks and alcohol)

Going back to listening to his interests, you both share some of the same interests so it helps a lot with your bond with the leader of the league. Even political views.

He listens to you too, even if he doesn't understand some of your interests or is very knowledgeable on certain topics you enjoy, he loves listening to you. He actually thinks your way of speaking and the way your voice sounds is very, very cute. But again, he'll never tell you. He's too embarrassed to and doesn't want to ruin,,,, whatever reputation he thinks he has.

#stuff #my stuff #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x reader #shimura tenko #tenko shimura #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki x reader #tenkoshimura #tomurashigaraki #asks #my asks

[mrs-spockulous]

A little blurb from the Cad Bane x OC story I am writing.

Yes this is incredibly cheesy, yes this story is purely self-indulgent. And it’s not really a story that is going anywhere. Just little prompts and ideas.

But I still think it’s kind of cute…

So OC is an Ex-Jedi that left the order around the time of The Phantom Menace and this is a few years after order 66. Bane and her have been a thing for a while, so it’s established relationship at this point.

OC (her name is Tara) hasn’t been using her force powers a lot, especially not around him. For obvious reasons. She is only now slowly reconnecting to the force after separating herself from it for years. Bane isn’t sure what to make of that yet.

She returned to her original position, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she reached out with her right hand and stayed like that. He could feel the air around her shift slightly, it was familiar, the feeling he always got when the Jedi used the Force against him. But it felt different around her. It didn't make him uneasy, even though something was clearly happening.

Bane looked to where her hand was now pointing and saw another dragonfly land right on her fingertip. It stayed there, even when she withdrew her hand back to them.

She held it out to him, proudly displaying the insect that seemed to trust her for some reason. He hummed and studied it, then her. She looked at him as if expecting him to do something. Then she slowly took his hand and linked their fingers.

The dragonfly seemed hesitant, but ultimately made its way over to Bane’s hand. And… stayed. He'd never held a live insect so close before, but it didn't seem to fear him at all, making itself at home on his finger as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

A part of him was waiting for it to realise who’s hand it was sitting on and flee in terror.

“Didn’t know ya guys could mind-control animals too.” he lifted his hand to his eye level to get a closer look at its colorful wings.

“I’m not controlling anything. I simply relayed that you won’t harm it, but whether it stays with you or not is up to it.”

“So yer talkin’ to it?” he snickered again “Ya sound like one of dose fairytale princesses.”

Tara had to stifle a laugh at his remark. “If I’m a princess, does that make you my white knight?”

Now it was up to Bane to hold back so as not to scare the dragonfly away. “Do I look like a knight to ya? I fight, I drink, I steal… if anythin’ I’m de outlaw who terrorizes yer kingdom with his gang.”

“Sounds a lot more like my kind of life,” she grinned at him. “You think there’s room for me in your gang?”

“Ha. For you? Always.”

I‘m not sure where I‘m going with this. I’ve written a lot but I’m not really confident about it and English isn’t my native language either so who knows. But I liked this part and wanted to share it.

#cad bane #star wars #sw tcw #cad bane x oc #fluff #sw tbb #fanfic #blurb #blue cowboy #WITH guns! #Space Cowboy #I am lowkey obsessed with these two #oc #self insert #also i think this might be the first writing I posted online #so I might never post about it again #🥲

[radarchives]

Hiyaa have a barb headcanon

He ADORES kissing your hands. You can do it to him, but he loves doing it to you more

Also one time diavolo dressed up as a rat and he had to control himself

What the actual fuck does my brain think abt at 11am

i am nodding and handing the first barbatos hc over to the self shippers (it is entirely lost with me i’m sorry. never been into self shipping, never been into men)

bro just imagine you’re barbatos just trying to chill and all of a sudden diavolo is standing in your doorway in a giant ass rat suit i’d scream cry 

Barbatos was sitting on a chair next to his bed, the room illuminated by nothing more than a couple of candles casting flickering shadows against the walls. He slowly put down his DDD as he noticed a strange combination of sounds penetrate his ears. There was a sort of scuffling, the pitter-patter of little feet on the ground, which was shortly followed by the low rumbling of something heavy dragging across the ground. 

Barbatos didn’t tremble, for he did not consider fear an acquaintance of his. He simply watched the door unblinkingly, muscles taunt and ready to pounce. 

Slowly, the door opened with squealing hinges, revealing a looming figure, tall and menacing. Barbatos recognized the grand figure immediately. However as he sought to make eye contact, his heart stumbled in his chest. A cold sense of discomfort nestled itself against his spine.  “Young Mas-” the word found itself stuck in his throat.

What once had most certainly been Diavolo, was now nothing less than a bristly, gnarly shell, staring Barbatos down from disease-ridden, red-rimmed eyes. A growl escaped the creature’s lips. It sounded too discomposed for royalty, yet too strong for a lowly critter. It was a sound so frightening it would certainly follow Barbatos into his busiest nightmares. 

“Barbatos,” the creature finally began to snarl. The name sounded sickly pale dripping off his lips. “I am the rat king. You will follow me to my sewer kingdom and become my rat butler.”

Suddenly, the figure darted towards Barbatos, all poise long forgotten, now nothing more than a rabid whirl storm of insanity. The flashing of red eyes was the last thing Barbatos saw before the darkness swallowed him whole, welcoming him like an old friend. 

and the barbatos passed tf out and diavolo felt highkey lowkey bad for scaring him like that or something idk 

#answers #diavolo #barbatos #in my defense i am sick and delusional atm #working on my own writing? no no no #overdramatic and questionable rat scare? yes yes yes

[thyandrawrites]

Am I the only one who finds it pretty awesome how Dabi did what no one else could in his family, not even AFO, which is to strike true fear in Endeavor's heart and break his heroic resolve. Do you think Endeavor would still fear facing Dabi off in battle ? because he's under the assumption that he has been captured and now he can try to look after Toya and continue to atone for his actions, and how cathartic for you was chapter 290 of Dabi exposing his father to the world ?

I think it's pretty awesome that Dabi concocted the precise plan to actually damage both his father's reputation and deal a massive blow to his pride. You can tell that he's been stewing on this for years, working out the finer details, because every aspect of it is so well-thought out.

Coming back home at 16 made him realize that he would never get his father's attention if he just played his part as the wannabe hero son. Endvr had already moved on and would never look back; the only way to destroy that attitude was to meet him as an opponent, as one of the villains Endvr never shies away from confronting. And he was right. The trap worked perfectly.

Endvr judged him a lost cause at age 5. Not only did he miss the opportunity to witness the change in color of Touya's flames, but we now know he also overlooked Dabi's ability to make cold fire and thus work around what Endvr labeled a "weakness". THE weakness. The one that labeled Touya a failed pet project. The irony in that is excellent.

But that's only the tip of the iceberg. The thing about Dabi's plan is that it's effective on so many levels.

He knows that hero society functions on blind idolization of heroes and on the scapegoating of villains as the true source of everything wrong ever > exposes his dad's corruption not by simply stating "he's bad" but by saying "he made me", essentially exploiting that bias to make it impossible for society to ignore it or excuse Endvr's actions as righteous

He knew Endvr used his "death" as a moral justification to keep training Shouto and abusing the fam > he removes the entire concept of having died to make it clear that Touya had no part in abusing Shouto, however indirectly. That was all Endvr, and he can't keep scapegoating it onto his son to feel better about himself. This way, Dabi essentially found the one loophole to worm his way inside his father's walls and punch that pride directly where it hurts

He knew losing credibility wouldn't break endvr because his ego is only stroked by challenges > he made Endvr powerless to stop Shouto from getting hurt, powerless to stop the broadcast, powerless to control how people perceive him at all, underlining how volatile and out of reach that desire to achieve fame ever was. In doing so, he also gave his father a taste of his own medicine. Building him up only to take everything he always wanted from him and expose him as a failure, just like Endvr did to Touya

And the thing is... The individual parts of this plan, if used on their own, wouldn't work as well. The broadcast alone wouldn't have had resonance if Dabi wasn't a villain with a kill count and Endvr's son. Touya coming back from the grave wouldn't have worked on its own if he also hadn't mastered every technique of both his father and his brother, proving that Endvr buried him all too quickly.

It's just... Chef's kiss.

Dabi's revenge works so well to strike fear in Endvr not because Dabi's hopelessly evil, or a menace to suppress with brute strength like AFO, but because he's the type of opponent you can't just put down with a fist or a self-righteous one-liner.

So yeah, seeing Dabi exploit his knowledge of all the weak spots of the system to give voice and resonance to his pain was hella cathartic. It seems like a paradox, but getting a stage to speak about those things, setting off the collapse of much of that hypocrisy from the second it was exposed, was the closest thing to actual justice I think his character will ever get. It was a victim getting the chance to say "what you did to me wasn't excusable" and, for once, getting only guilty, ashamed silence in response

#Ali replies #Bnha #Dabi #My post #To this day I still think bnha peaked in chapter 290-94 #And never got close to that level again. The set up/payoff there was so well done #Unlike much of what comes after... Which doesn't even seem particularly well outlined

[durgesupremacy]

return to fanfiction, after years of hiatus. cause: brainrot. They Meet.

Gortash did not make expectations, and despite that, they surprised him.

How should they have looked, a Child of Bhaal? It’s not as though they ought to be horribly obvious—menacing in form, imposing in stature, eyes bright and piercing with the red glow of the murder god himself. But if he had a hundred guesses, Gortash would never have gotten close to the figure he saw before him. Lithe, pale, barely meeting his height. Their short hair rippled black mixed with a deep, unnatural red, perhaps a trait of their unholy father. Sitting across from him they met his gaze with dark eyes, a black impossibly deeper than their hair that shone with a strange inner glow.

What an odd-looking elf, the street folk might say. Certainly ominous, especially in their dark garb. But Gortash didn’t feel the blood of the murder god. There was no mortal terror, no violence yet. Just an impressively calm countenance. They approached the table and sat across from him, collected and graceful, perfectly content at the heart of the Steel Watch.

“Welcome. An honor, to look at last upon the leader of the Cult of Bhaal.” At this, Gortash surprised himself. It was an honor. His acclaimed correspondent, surely known by none in the light of day. Someone who restored a church as fallen as his own. A peer.

Their head tilted, just slightly. Curiosity. “Well met, Enver Gortash.” Smooth and clear, their voice resonated through the near-empty office like a bell. “You sought me out, and here I am. Do not waste my time. Tell me of your proposal.”

He bristled at the casual command, but smiled nonetheless. For the will of Bane he would make pleasantries. Gortash knew that control over others required dominance of the self.

He would dominate them in time. But not yet. He gave in, made his offer, and let the Bhaalspawn think they were in control.

***

The Baneite was confident. It was refreshing, coming out of the zealous fervor of the temple. The unholy assassins were cunning and committed, but despite the camaraderie of their own there was a depth of insecurity to many in the temple, a desire to prove oneself. Gortash proved nothing. He simply was, despite the fact that he boldly offered alliance with the most dangerous creature he would ever meet.

“I offer my aid in reclaiming your artefacts from the Hall of Wonders. And then, in return, all I ask is that you consider further partnership. Will you join me?” he asked.

A false question. He knew what would happen, just as they would. Only he would pretend and they would not.

“Yes.” His plans were thorough and well-researched; some of the temple’s finest assassins couldn’t have done better. It was oddly satisfying, seeing the truth of Gortash in person, experiencing his shrewd mind in flesh after reading it on paper. “I will need time to prepare.”

They stood, knowing the proper time and meeting place. It seemed like they’d done enough business. But Gortash stood too, a slight scrape of the chair betraying his hurry.

“Tell me your name.” An unplanned un-question. His fingers twitched, clawed gauntlets glinting in the candlelight. Curiosity.

And a novel question, in some ways. Their name was hardly relevant in the temple—they were master, saer, Chosen, blood-kin. And no one asked their name, on the surface. Assassins hardly needed names.

“Solace.”

Gortash looked at them, expression unreadable, before nodding and gathering himself at the desk. “Well met, Solace.” He flicked his wrist and the Steel Watchers parted. Time to go.

Solace left the room, surprised to feel a bit of strength in their step. They hadn’t heard their name in months.

#durgetash #enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #goretash #bg3 #durge #dark urge #bg3 durge #bg3 fanfiction #someday found on ao3

[cherryatombomb]

Taskforce 141 + Los Vaqueros as D&D Classes

i am indulging myself wholeheartedly in this post i hope u understand. if u disagree let me know im curious to see what u think >:D might make a separate post for people like laswell, farah, etc

Simon "Ghost" Riley - he'd be drawn to warlock. not only does it fit his edgy dynamic, i think he'd really enjoy the duel nature of the patron giving the powers. he's probably spent a lot of his life not quite feeling in control, so it gives him a good way to experience that through dnd. might go down the pact breaker path and end up switching classes, probably to something like fighter/barbarian for the simplicity of it. could see him going down the gunslinger route, too, if given the opportunity. he gets super into the roleplay part of it, but he's very quiet to begin with. takes him a while to get into it. he would be such a dice hoarder, too. he's a crow.

John "Soap" MacTavish - this man is 100% an artificer, are you kidding me? the ability to make his own weapons/bombs is something he'd absolutely love. ka-freaking-boom baby, he would play a chaotic character who enjoys being an absolute menace during battles. hes the one who puts the dm through the most strife /aff but hes such a fun player nonetheless. is a little sillier during roleplay interactions, but he gets into it, too. he'd end up playing a smaller race like a gnome, and he would absolutely love it. where this man goes, explosions follow. this applies to dnd, too! he's tempted by bards, though, too, but hasn't had the opportunity to play one yet.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick - i think he'd actually really enjoy playing as a rogue. hes good in game as a sniper, and i think he might end up playing a robin hood type rogue, rather than the edgy rogue trope. he would absolutely love things like stealthing around and sneak attacking during fights. his character would end up being pretty lawful good. it would take him a little while to get into the swing of roleplaying, as towards the start, when he begins to roleplay, he gets all laugh-y about it, he actually gets really into it the more he goes on. he's like ghost, ends up taking the roleplaying really seriously - commits to his characters morals well.

John Price - probably ends up going with fighter, most likely to play human fighter - but he'd be interesting with it! to begin with, he just wanted to play something simple so it didn't take much to learn, but he ends up also taking a leadership role in the game, too. would take him a while to get into roleplay, but towards the end, he gets really into giving big old speeches before they finish up the BBEG. i think his fighter would have the backstory of a veteran fighter, a man who's constantly known fighting, just like himself. the leader of the party.

Alejandro Vargas - barbarian, without a DOUBT. this man is a protector through and through, and it shines through even in dnd. he enjoys being the one at the forefront of battles, tanking damage and also hitting hard, at the same time. his character is the most like him out of everybody else's, gruff and gritty, but incredibly protective and loving. he's the one that's most likely to sacrifice himself for the others characters - and god damn, it would be emotional!

Rodolfo Parra - cleric/druid. this is a 50/50 for me. i think rudy likes to be a protector in a different way to alejandro, the ability to heal being something he loves. i could see him playing a super strong cleric, one with plenty of healing spells, but one that can also do massive amounts of damage if needed. he might also enjoy playing druid simply because i think he'd be interested in druid's magic, turning into animals and such. he's a shyer player, but he gets into it eventually - just like his irl self, his character is linked with alejandro's, inseparable.

#call of duty #task force 141 #los vaqueros #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rodolfo rudy parra #captain john price #headcanons

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grant: can you ft tonight?

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

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

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

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

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

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

“Nosy much?!” 

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

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

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

“No one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

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

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

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

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

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

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

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

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

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

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

“Mhm.” I lied. 

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

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

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

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

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

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_ _ _ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A dating app, actually.” 

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

What a dick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

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

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

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

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt sorry for me. 

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

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

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

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

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

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

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

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

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

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

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

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

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

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

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

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

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

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

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

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

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I asked you first.” 

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

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

“No, that’s impossible.”

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

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

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

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

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

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

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

“Did Grant give them to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That never came. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

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

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

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

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

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

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

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

Grant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kill me now.

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

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

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

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

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

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

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

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

She liked that.

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

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

“Always, trouble.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_ _ _ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was my priority. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was so cold. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Shouldn’t have done that. 

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

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

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[ginanosakka]

We’re Older Now

Masterlist

I’ll Always Love You | Next

“I am going to kill you,” you hissed lowly as you escorted Katsuki through your lobby after comforting your poor, frightened secretary and giving him a break for the time being.

You had come into the office today to handle paperwork from several business connections you had made through email from overseas companies willing to accept some of your clients, and you were ecstatic to finally find work for your clients with more peculiar quirks, even if it was a hassle to help them settle in a different country. Work was your only break from Mina’s questioning about everything, and Katsuki’s scolding about the way you lived since he had apparently become a parenting expert in a week. You swear if Ryu didn’t love him so much, you would have pulled some strings to get him shipped overseas.

The plan was that you would drop Ryu off at school in the morning, and Katsuki would pick him up after patrol and spend time with him, then when work was finished you would pick him up from Katsuki’s place. It wasn’t a difficult plan, and there was little to no complications to this.

That was what you thought until Katsuki asked for address of your building, and you believing he was just making sure he could get to you in case of emergency, and you gave it to him.

He had took that as an invitation to come visit you at your office without notifying you, leading him to have to talk to your front desk secretary — he was a young man fresh from high school with no idea what he wanted to do until you offered him a position; a soft and kind boy — whom was given the instruction upon hiring to never allow strangers to just waltz in and speak to whoever they wanted. Katsuki didn’t take that very well apparently, and he had began berating the soft boy until he was nearly shaking and calling you down to help.

“He deserved it for talking to me like that, I’m a pro-hero, not a damn robberer.” He grunted, and it took all the self-control you had not to slap him upside the head.

“Whether you’re a hero or an absolute menace to society is debatable, but either way there are rules he has to follow that won’t be broken for the number three hero!” You fussed, dragging him with you to the elevator as fast as you could in your favorite skirt and heels. “No one here knows you’re Ryu’s father, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

Katsuki smirked down at you, “so you’ll want to tell them eventually, huh?”

“I’m hoping it’ll accidentally pop up in your obituary after you mysteriously pass away.”

He trailed behind you like a bodyguard when you got to the floor where your office resided, and you shook your head at the curious and amazed looks you got from your assistants who walked by. You couldn’t blame them though, their antisocial boss was dragging a hero into her office. Some of them had even made the mistake of mentioning heroes around you in conversation and knew you weren’t fond of those in said profession.

“Alright, what the hell are you doing here?” You asked as you shut the door behind him, watching him closely as he looked over your office that looked more like Ryu’s room with the toy bin and drawings littering the walls.

“When we met at the restaurant, you told me to ask questions about you instead of assuming.” He reminded you as he leaned against the front of your desk to face you, “and I have some questions.”

“I thought we already did this.” You sighed, but gave him the go to ask what he’d like.

“What happened after your old man kicked you out?”

You almost flinched from the hard question, not expecting him to get straight to the point, but then again he’d never been one to beat around the bush. It wasn’t something you spoke about, and as you tried to bring that time back to you, you realized that you couldn’t recall most of what happened. There were blurry bits and pieces, like memories of your mother, and you didn’t know if that was frustrating and relieving. It was a rough patch where you barely ate or slept, your body was constantly aching from pregnancy, and you had to learn how to work and be self sufficient after growing up pampered.

“I remember using money I had stashed away and lived in hotels until I found a job as a waitress, from there I just know I was working day and night and saving as much as I could until I could get this whole thing started.” You said, giving him most of the bits you could remember.

Katsuki nodded, but he still looked unsatisfied with your answer. He pushed off your desk and walked closer to you until he was invading your personal space, and his eyes were focused on your blouse instead of your face.

“What are you-“

“Lift up your shirt.” He ordered gruffly, his eyes narrowed at your chest and making your breath hitch.

“I’m not lifting up my shirt! What the hell are you doing?” You huffed and tried to back away into the door, but he only stepped closer and his warm hands snaked their way to the hem of your shirt.

With one swift motion he lifted up your shirt to just under your bra, exposing your stomach to him as he took a close look at the scar you had coincidentally not mentioned to him. You weren’t confused on how he knew about it, the time Mina confronted you and you had immediately held that spot like it hurt didn’t go over her head. You just didn’t think she’d tell him.

“Your father did this, didn’t he?” He asked.

“No, some friends of his did,” you answered as you pushed him off of you and pulled your shirt back down. “It was his way of trying to force his help on me. If he terminated my pregnancy, I would be able to come back home and he wouldn’t have a shameful daughter. Too bad for him I watched you train and learned some moves.”

You had seen Katsuki angry before, but you’d never seen him so livid that he looked calm. His red eyes were blazing, muscles flexing in his hero costume subconsciously as he looked down at you with an unreadable expression. Having felt that anger before, you knew it was best to let him release it somewhere else instead of in your office.

“That old bastard tried to kill my kid, and he could have killed you in the process.” He said, lifting one of his gauntlet clad hands up and letting off a small explosion. “I’ll kill him and blow his whole legacy up,” Katsuki finalIzed with a menacing smile.

You rolled your eyes, “you sure are concerned about a spoiled brat who can’t handle getting her way.”

His expression changed completely, the smile fell from his face and the fire left his eyes. It took a lot to calm down an angry Katsuki, but it seemed like that simple teasing comment brought him back to reality. You were slightly concerned that you had broken the hero. Before he could even speak though his phone rang, and you had a feeling he was being called back to work — you yourself needed to get your own work done.

“I have shit to do so I’ll see you at my place later, and you better not be late.” Bakugou said and you waved him off as you brushed past him to get to your desk.

“Yeah, I know better than to leave my baby with you, he’ll come back corrupted.”

“Y/N.”

“Huh?” You looked up from your desk to him as he stood at the door, looking back at you.

“You aren’t a spoiled brat anymore.”

A playful smile fell on your face, and you couldn’t pretend that wasn’t the kindest thing he’s ever said to you — that might sound sad, but this is Katsuki Bakugou we’re talking about. “Then what am I?” You decided to ask, just wanting to see if you could fluster him by trying to force more kind words out of him.

You weren’t expecting him to smirk at you and say, “you’re mine.”

A/N: From friendly co-parenting to pushing boundaries. Anyways, sorry this took so long but my brain was absolutely rotting. Thank you for your patience <3! (Tag list will be Updated when I get home from work so if you aren’t added yet it will happen soon don’t worry, and if you wanted to be added speak now or forever hold your peace.)

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#bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha bakugou #x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #bnha x reader #anime x reader

[lihikainanea]

i’m shy and get embarrassed easily, so i have NEVER SAID WHAT IVE WANTED but i can’t hold back anymore, I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT. actually, it’s not a want, it’s a need.

i need a really sub tiger (whimpering, spaced out look, needy, sucking on his fingers, etc) and daddy bill. sweet nani. TIGER call him daddy. i need big protector and provider vibes from bill.

also, i’ve read every single one of your posts ATLEAST 15 times. this page right here, feels like a safe space.

much love

ohhhhhhhh thank you bb! I love messages like this <3 I'm glad you submitted an ask, that's a big step--I'm proud of you, boo. This space is open and safe for everyone, it's all I've ever wanted to create, so to hear you say it--to know that you felt comfortable submitting an ask--bubs, that makes me so happy <3

I'm feelin soff and subby tiger these days. Not only because of this deadly heatwave that has been sweeping the entire fucking continent, not only because work has been hell on earth, not only because I'm finally on vacation next week after not taking time off for a year and I feel like I'm crawling towards the finish line, bruised and battered, on all fours pleading for mercy.

Oh wait, that's exactly why I'm feeling soff and subby tiger these days, so small and where she can just disappear into her bubble of safety and just know that she'll be taken care of.

If you’ll allow me to self-project for awhile, as I’m wont to do rather frequently--maybe tiger has had to be Boss Bitch for awhile. She’s not having a hard time at work--no no, quite the opposite actually. She’s killing it. Stepping up when she has to, working long hours. Maybe her boss quit all of a sudden (hello, self-projection again!) and tiger is just stepping in and getting shit done. And ike a Queen, that ‘tude is bleeding into other aspects of life. Bill has a wonky shelf that needs fixing and while he’s usually quick to fix those things, it’s lagging and tiger just thinks--fuck it, and fuck you too. Bill comes home and she’s power drilling the thing back in place. Changing the light bulbs. Replacing the battery in her smoke alarm. Doing all the groceries. Cooking. Working late into the night. Picking up his dry cleaning. Her friend is going through a bad break up--tiger is there, packing her shit up with her, finding her a new apartment.

Tiger can sometimes be a bit of a procrastinator--which Bill likes, because then he gets to step in and do things for her and he loves the smile she gives him when he does that--but lately? Bill can’t get there fast enough. Tiger is handling it all, knocking it out of the park, and making it look easy.

The problem is she also kind of works herself into a tizzy--because tiger doesn’t like having too much control. She can absolutely do everything herself, but part of what she enjoys so much in her dynamic with Bill is that she doesn’t have to. She doesn’t have to be in control, or have all the power. She can give that to him, and she can just float in that place free from all burdens and responsibility and know that she’ll be taken care of. There’s an immense power in relinquishing control. And like everything, tiger swings violently from one extreme to the other--she has all of the control, she’s handling shit, she’s handling shit like a boss--until she gets real small, because she doesn’t WANT to handle this much, she doesn’t want to be the boss bitch anymore, she needs a balance where she can be ballsy and courageous in her professional life but that balance comes from being able to be subby with Bill, being able to be put on her knees and be his good girl.

Yin and yang.

And Bill senses it. He probably knows by the crazy twitch in her eye, her subtle irritability, the way a problem no sooner arises that tiger is throwing some power tool, some 7-step coaching programme, some advice from years of therapy--just something at it. Bill barely has time to mention that something in the house needs fixing, let alone fix it himself--because tiger is all over it and then some.

Bill knows the pendulum is swinging just a leeeeeeeetle too far one way.

And maybe the next day when tiger gets in from work--she has a list of shit she needs to get done tonight, and she’s still tapping away more on her phone: bake brownies for a work potluck, fix the chain on the toilet, scrub the bath tub, build the IKEA shoe cabinet she bought, give Bill head because it’s been awhile, put the final tweaks on a presentation. And her nose is in her phone when she walks in the door, so she doesn’t see Bill standing there in the hallway--doesn’t see the way he has his arms crossed, the authoritative set to his jaw, his pinched eyebrows.

“Hiiiiiii,” she calls out blindly down the hallway as she toes off her shoes, drops her purse on the floor.

Bill doesn’t respond. Her eyes are still on her phone, her thumbs going a mile a minute.

“Did you get the drill bits I need?” she’s still yelling because she hasn’t seen him yet, “That fucking IKEA cabinet Allan key bullshit won’t--oof.”

She walks right into his chest, stumbling back a step or two as she startles. And then she notices--notices how tall he’s standing, notices the set in his eyes, his clenched jaw. His crossed arms.

“Hi,” he says simply, lowly.

“Hi,” she stammers, “I uh, didn’t see you there.”

“I know,” he says--and then he reaches out, takes her phone from her hands. He puts it in his back pocket and crosses his arms again.

“On your knees,” he says.

“Why?” she mumbles it before she can stop, and it’s just automatic when she’s been like this--question everything, oppose everything, demand answers. But Bill just cocks his eyebrow, bends a little at the waist and gets his face in close to hers.

“You don’t get to ask questions tonight,” he whispers, and it’s soft but deliciously menacing and threatening. Tiger bites her lip, and she’s so mesmerized by him, already so turned on, that she’s rooted to the spot and she doesn’t move.

“Tiger,” he says harshly, “I won’t repeat myself.”

“Oh,” she snaps to her senses, shaking the fog from her brain. She drops to her knees. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Do you like all of this, tiger?” he weaves a hand in her hair, gently tugging it so her eyes are on him, “All of this control? All of this power?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try again,” he says, “All of this responsibility, fighting everybody’s battles. Taking care of everyone else--but who is taking care of you, hmm? Who’s taking care of my sweet girl?”

And her walls are starting to come down, that pendulum is starting to swing back ever so slowly in the natural direction.

“I am,” her voice cracks, and she says it so lowly he barely heard it.

“What’s that?”

“I am,” she says again, just a twinge louder but even then it’s barely a whisper.

“You are,” he says, “Just handling everything like a big girl. And do you like that? Not letting me take care of you? Not needing me?”

“No,” she admits.

“And is that part of our deal?”

“No,” she says again, leaning forward and bunching his pant leg in her fist. She just wants to touch him, wants to be close to him, and Bill would never stop her from doing so in moments like these. He presses his thumb to her lips, easing it inside. She sighs and her shoulders sag with relief.

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t we?” he asks, “I miss my sweet girl.”

She whimpers around his thumb, inching on her knees closer to him and resting her forehead on his thigh.

“Do you want me to fix it sweet girl?” he murmurs, “Get you back right again?”

She nods, but he snaps his fingers and he swears that she moaned a little.

“Yes,” she says immediately, “Please, Bill.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” he says, and he withdraws his thumb from her mouth, closing his hands around her shoulders and lifting her so she’s standing in front of him, “I think I need to hear that a little more.”

She whines, but he slams his lips to hers. He kisses the hell out of her, all tongues and teeth, pulling away as she gasps for breath.

“If you want me to fix it kid,” he purrs, “Then you’re going to beg for it.”

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #sub tiger

[kiwi-the-first]

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower. 

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded. 

“What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love. 

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

--

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore. 

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

--

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

 He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze. 

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today". 

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

--

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too" 

Huh?

Oh- 

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would. 

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself. 

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

--

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since. 

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his. 

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth. 

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies. 

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you. 

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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

TAGS: @dindjarindiaries

@spacegayofficial

@lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

@dindjarinsleftvambrace

@mitchi-c

@the-real-xhorse

@hdlynn

@deafmandalorian

@cheesecake-madness

@duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania

@oloreaa

:)

#the mandalorian #din djarin #baby yoda #pedro pascal #the child #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #fluff #din x reader fluff #mando x GN!reader #Fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #fanfics #oneshot #writing #self insert #mando self insert

[silkling]

So, @pastelpaperplanes, I did it again. Apparently a) I have no self control, and b) my brain wouldn’t stop screaming at me till I wrote this. The song for this drabble is at the end of the post, but be warned there’s a very minor twist after the “keep reading”, so try not to spoil yourself by getting to it early. I hope you all enjoy this! (Maybe now my little gremlin brain will let me go back to my Dojo Ghost Prowl AU)

Yoketron watched Lockdown with a critical eye, stepping in when the youngling’s stance was too wide to nudge his feet closer. His student looked at him, eyes curios and demanding an explanation. The ninja smiled, fond. This was why Lockdown was one of his favorite students. The young mech always wanted to learn and understand. He didn’t mindlessly listen and obey, but rather questioned so he could better know why things were done instead of just how they were done. It was refreshing.

He blinked, both he and Lockdown freezing in place when there was a knock at the door. That was...unusual. He’d always made it very clear that he wasn’t to be disturbed when he was in a lesson, unless it was a true emergency. He glanced at his student, pondering his next actions for only a moment before nodding. “Lockdown, you may take a break. I will see if this is not something I can solve without halting your lesson.” When the youngling nodded and folded himself down to begin a series of easy stretches, Yoketron turned and walked to the door. He blinked, resignation settling in his chest as he was greeted with who was on the other side.

It was his son, Prowl, held in the arms of his most recent caretaker. His very frazzled looking caretaker. The femme made a sound of manic hysteria, shoving the infant into his Sire’s chest as soon as she saw him. He brought his arms up on reflex, hands curling around the small frame as he allowed his son’s back to settle into the curve of his arm. “I can’t do this anymore!” the wild looking caretaker wailed. “That is not a normal sparkling! I quit!” With that, she whirled around and sped off as if the Unmaker himself were at her heels.

Yoketron stared after her for a moment, then with one hand he slid the door shut and turned an unimpressed look onto his son. “Again, little one? That is the third caretaker in a month. You cannot keep doing this.” he scolded. Though, it clearly had no effect, because the little bot only looked pleased at the attention being directed to him. Prowl gave a soft whuff of a breath, one hand lifting and pressing the knuckle of his thumb to his mouth as he stared up at his Sire.

The Dojo Master heaved a sigh, briefly turning his gaze heavenwards as if praying to Primus for some form of a sign. His son wasn’t a poorly behaved sparkling, not really. He never screamed, or cried, or broke things. He never made a mess, and was he really was very quiet and peaceable. If he had done any of those things, then Yoketron knew that caretakers would be able to handle him. But no. His son acted out in more...discreet ways. He refused to listen to anything that was asked of him. He stared his caretakers into a terrified silence whenever they tried to talk to him. He somehow appeared suddenly in front of them in places they hadn’t left him. He got into extremely dangerous situations that his panicked caretakers would take ages to figure out how to fix and wander off to disappear while they were doing the fixing. He deliberately hid from them, doing it so well that none of them could ever find him and they had to get his Sire to find and retrieve him. He even hid their belongings. Rather than be loud and destructive, Prowl had mastered the art of infant physiological warfare. So far, he had driven 18 separate caretakers into a stress induced breakdown. Well, now 19, he supposed.

“You are, I think, far too attached to me for anyone’s good.” Yoketron informed his son succinctly. Prowl just tiled his head curiously as his Sire looked down at him, then wrinkled his nose and sneezed. He looked very irritated at his body’s action once he’d done so. Yoketron sighed, shaking his head before he turned back to his student. Unfortunately, there was no one else in the Dojo who could take care of Prowl right now. That meant that for today, at least, he had to keep his son with him.

Lockdown had finished his stretches, and by now was staring curiously. “Who’s that?” The youngling asked, head tilted as he padded over slowly. Yoketron hummed, lowering his arms so his student could get a better look at his child.

“My son and heir.” he remarked dryly. “He is very fond of me and absolutely no one else. I’ve yet to find a caretaker who can handle him for more than a week. The longest lasted a month, I believe.” he sighed.

Lockdown just blinked, staring at the sparkling. His plating was thin and dull, his colors not yet fully settled and intense as they’d be on an older mech. It made his coloring look softer, which combined with rounded, squishy features made the small bot look very unthreatening. “This pipsqueak is that much of a terror?” he asked incredulously. “What does he even do that’s so bad? Throw a few too many tantrums?”

Yoketron only sighed. “I only wish that were the case, my student.” he stated, turning his head to give his son a look. “No, this little menace has somehow mastered his own unique form of psychological warfare.”

Lockdown stared at the sparkling, who had turned his head to pin him with a startlingly intense look. After a moment, the infant’s eyes narrowed, as if deciding he didn’t like this smaller-than-an-adult newcomer. “...he what.” he deadpanned. “How does a baby even use psychological warfare?” he asked.

His master only sighed. “That, I do not know. He is far to smart for his own good.” he grumbled, then straightened and tucked his son more firmly into his chest with one arm, his other lifting to place a hand on his student’s shoulder. “I apologize, Lockdown, but I will have to keep him with me for the remainder of your lesson.” he said.

The youngling only shrugged. “Don’t matter to me. Not like there’s much time left to it today anyway.” At Yoketron’s gesture, the youngling returned to the center of the mat. The older ninja paced around the younger, eyes narrowed and focused.

“Metallikato, Forms 34 and 56.” he instructed. Lockdown nodded, then obediently shifted through them. Yoketron watched his student with a critical eye, calling out corrections where they were necessary, but otherwise remaining silent. A glance at his son showed that the sparkling was starring unerringly at Lockdown, his gaze sharper and more intense than most youngling’s his age would be. Yoketron knew his son was observing, and learning as much as he could at his current level of mental and physical ability.

Prowl was a clever sparkling, with more cunning than even some adults Yoketron knew. He didn’t have complete mobility yet, and his limbs were still soft with infancy, but already he could see his son’s frame beginning to develop its own hidden strengths. He knew the sparkling would grow into a powerful ninja one day. Perhaps, one even more so than himself.

He returned his attention to his student, continuing to give out forms for the youngling to practice, until their lesson came to an end. Lockdown turned, bowing his his mentor before leaving the room. Alone with his son, Yoketron turned his attention to Prowl, who only looked deeply pleased that Lockdown was gone. Yes, the infant was far to attached to his Sire.

Yoketron only gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head and carrying his son to his room. Prowl’s crib was in the corner, but the ninja simply ignored it in favor of grabbing his favorite scroll from the shelf and settling on his bed to read. He had long mastered the ability to read his scrolls one handed, so one arm remained curled under his son as he settled against his pillows and opened the scroll. He read for a while, stopping only when the clock on his nightstand informed him it was time to eat.

He went to the kitchen, grabbing dinner for both himself and Prowl, before returning to his room. After he ate, he prepared Prowl’s bottle of sparkling energon and fed it to him, watching fondly as the little bitlet gripped at the nozzle of the bottle with small hands and suckled almost lazily. When the sparkling finished, Yoketron quickly returned the dishes to the kitchen before he returned to his room. There, he made his way back to the bed, settling in comfortably. He ignored the scroll for a moment, curling both arms under his son and lowering his head to look the infant in the eye.

Prowl stared at him, burbling softly and reaching out with a little hand to grab his father’s nose. He gave a tiny, pleased coo at his success. Yoketron’s gaze became infinitely softer as a delighted smile pulled the sparkling’s lips, humming gently as his son babbled something at him. He pulled his nose free, then lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Prowl’s forehead, in the middle of the tiny chevron. “You may be trouble, my little one, but I am so very pleased to call you mine.” he murmured fondly.

He settled the infant against his chest again, directly over his heart since he knew Prowl liked to listen to his heartbeat. He freed one arm, then reached for the scroll again. This was perhaps his favorite story. Prowl was too young for it yet, but Yoketron had read it countless times. The scroll told the tale of an old man who was beloved by his family. He had only one child, but he considered all in his house to be family, though of course his most beloved family member was his son. One day, a terrible calamity swept the land. A drought so bad and so hot the ground burned the feet of those who walked it. The old man, who remembered the old tales that most of the town had forgotten, knew what he had to do.

He went to the old temple in the forest, and prayed to the gods to save his home and his family. The gods had answered, but they had demanded a price. The old man would be forgotten by the town, as if he had never existed at all. He was distraught, but when he remembered his weakening son he agreed. It rained the very next day, and all in the town forgot who the old man had ever been. All of then, that is, except for his son, for he too knew the old stories and had always carried a protective talisman with him. When he realized that no one remembered his beloved father, and that the rain had come so suddenly, he knew it was the work of the gods. He went to the temple himself, and demanded the return of his father. The gods, who had spirited the old man away so he could be truly forgotten, were surprised. They had not expected anyone to remember, had not expected anyone to stand against their magic. The gods refused, however, for a deal had been struck and the son had played no part in it. Then they retreated to their own realm, leaving the son alone.

The son, overwhelmed by grief, abandoned his home and struck out to find the gods. He would have his father returned, even if he would die doing it. And so the son travelled for years and years, always trying to chase down the gods who had stolen his father from him. Along the way, he found on old falcon who became attached to him, and stayed by his side for his journey. What he didn’t know was that the falcon was his father, who the gods had given a new shape to ensure his old life would be forgotten by all who might know him. The son and the falcon travelled long and far, and there were many records of their adventures in the many towns which they took rest in. No one knew what became of the son, but some say that in the dark of the night, if you go to the last place he had been seen alive, you can see two pale, misted falcons, flying into the moonlight above.

It was a story of love and fatherhood and loss, and though there was no happy ending, or even any true ending at all, Yoketron had always enjoyed the deeper meanings of the story. By the time he finished the scroll, night had fallen and the rest of the Dojo was quiet and peaceful with sleep. The ninja stood, returning the scroll to its place and stepping towards the crib. Immediately, Prowl made a noise of discontent, and Yoketron heaved a sigh. He didn’t want to deal with his son’s stubbornness tonight. So, he simply turned to his bed, placing Prowl down on it so he could get them both dressed in sleeping clothes. Then he picked his son up, tucking them both under the covers and pulling Prowl to his chest. He knew Prowl would not fall asleep easily, but he had one trick that always worked.

Yoketron lifted his son closer to himself, humming deep in his chest. Immediately, the little one’s attention snapped to him, rapt. He smiled, warm and fond, and lowered his head to press his forehead to his son’s. Prowl’s eyes closed at the soothing hum he heard from his Sire, though he obviously wasn’t falling asleep. Yoketron’s lips twitched into a bigger smile, and as he stared at his son he opened his mouth to croon an old lullaby.

“Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes...”

Prowl woke with the echoes of an ancient lullaby in his ears. A song he’d thought he’d forgotten years ago. He stared at his ceiling, his room deep and dark enough to tell him that it was still night out, and wondered why he was awake. There was a breeze from the cracked open window, and his cheeks felt cool. He startled, sitting up slowly and lifting his fingers to touch his cheek. They came away damp, and his sleep-heavy mind struggled to understand why.

Something dropped to the blanket pooled on his lap. He looked down, noting a small wet spot, as if a drop of water had soaked into the fabric. He stared down, uncomprehending, and another joined it. That’s when it clicked. He was crying. His cheeks were wet with tears. Tears he was still shedding. But why...?

Then he remembered his dream. His Sire. It hadn’t been a dream, it had been a memory. An old one. He didn’t know how he was able to remember that. He’d been so young. He shuddered, still able to hear the peaceful rumble of Yoketron’s voice as he crooned that old lullaby. Without realizing it, he found himself grabbing the old ribbon from under his pillow, the only scrap of his Sire he had left. He clutched it in a fist, bringing his hands to press the heels of his palms into his eyes as he choked on a sob. He had forgotten that his Sire used to sing him that lullaby. It had always soothed him, even when he’d been big enough to think he didn’t need soothing.

Another ugly sob tore from his throat, and his shoulders shook as he fought to silence himself. He missed the Dojo. He missed the gardens. He missed the training hall. He missed the smell of old paper and ancient, well treated wood. He missed the sounds of training. He missed the peace. He missed Jazz him. He missed his Sire. He missed that lullaby. He missed home.

Prowl forced himself to lie down, curling his hands into his chest and rolling onto his side. He shuddered and heaved as he cried silently, his pillow soaking in the tears that fell. He screwed his eyes shut, knowing it wouldn’t help, but wanting only to fall back asleep and forget this breakdown ever happened.

He did drift off, eventually. As another breeze swept into his room through his open window and dried his tears, his mind, half-asleep and unfocused, could almost hear the echoes of a song on the wind that caressed his cheeks.

“Someday we'll all be gone

But lullabies go on and on

They never die

That's how you and I will be....”

✧

Also, probably fairly obvious, but the song for this drabble is Lullaby (Goodnight, My Angel) by Billy Joel. Listen and W E E P.

#transformers animated #cops and mobs au #tfa yoketron #tfa prowl #tfa lockdown #baby prowl is a tiny terror gremlin #he just really wants Yoketron #but ONLY Yoketron #he thinks everyone else can just fuck right off #and if they don’t leave he MAKES then leave #but he breaks them down to tears first #he’s a hazard to everyone but his dad #oh look I made myself sad #take this fluff and then remember what happens later #apparently this is my life now #Yoketron is a good dad #lockdown cameo! #I had to make up an explanation as to why Lockdown wouldn’t recognize prowl #also he never learned his name when he was a baby #LOOK AT WHAT YOU DESTROYED LOCKDOWN #someone get Prowl help please #I was fueled by my own tears

[notsuchacleverboyq]

00Q AU

Casino Royal alternative univers.

Same movie, same story, but with Q instead of Vesper.

As the train kept running in the darkness of that evening, Bond found himself alone, sitting in front of a still completely full glass while looking out of the window.

His alert senses warned him of someone walking in the middle corridor of the wagon.

Looking up with falsely distracted gaze, Bond decided that it was not more than a boy with a mob of dark curls and thick glasses. He was moving forward with big strides, the right hand firmly grabbing the shoulder belt of the computer bag he was carrying.

The boy suddenly sat in front of Bond with absolute causality, as if he had happened to be there by accident. He straightened his tweed jacket right after settling the computer bag to the side.

He looked confident but also completely odd and disoriented.

- I am the money - he suddenly said, his bright pink lips curving in a thin smile.

In the next few seconds, Bond's mind had to process several times what he had just heard, making sure that there wasn't some kind of misunderstanding. His stomach had a sudden twist as he realized that he had perfectly understood the boy.

- You must be kidding me - he muttered, his expression suddenly blank.

The boy sighed a giggle while taking his computer out of the bag, carefully placing it on the table.

The laptop was full of stickers, Bond noticed with horror. He started damning the day in which he had decided to become a field agent.

- Do I look like I'm kidding? - the boy asked with a sharp tone, right after adjusting his glasses.

No, he didn't look like it was a sort of really malignant joke. He was completely serious.

As the boy started typing on his laptop, Bond took a few seconds more to observe him: he was completely calm, tapered fingers flying over the keyboard; he looked like something between fifteen and twenty years old, definitely not more than that, and he didn't match the atmosphere, nor the reason why he was there. His thin, willowy figure made him look so fragile, as if Bond could have been able to snap his neck just by caressing his pale skin.

That boy was definitely out of place.

- This is some weird joke, isn't it? - Bond asked, his voice low and deep.

The boy stopped typing, turning to face James again, and looked at him with a smirk that the agent couldn't well read.

There was amusement and confidence in such an expression.

- Why? Because I'm not a beautiful woman with angel eyes? - he asked back, his voice as much low as James' one.

It took all of Bond's self-control to not groan and puff in response. He had been paired with a smartass.

- Because you still have spots - the agent snapped, instead of showing his disappointment.

The boy didn't miss a beat, he didn't even blink.

- My complexion is hardly relevant - he calmly replied, taking off his glasses to clean them.

- Your competence is - Bond groaned.

It was while observing the boy wearing his glasses again that the agent couldn't hide his nervousness anymore. He was feeling millions of emotions, except for pleasure.

- Age is no guarantee of efficiency - the boy muttered, words fluid like oil.

- And youth is no guarantee of innovation - Bond muttered back.

In that moment, the boy's smirk changed: it was as thin as before, but now Bond could read only confidence in it, knowing it menaced to be a really long mission.

- I'll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop, sitting in my pajamas, before my first cup of Earl Grey, than you can do in a year in the field - the boy whispered, slightly leaning forward, and leaving his pink lips barely parted as the last word glided out of his mouth.

Bond allowed himself a shallow smile as he noticed how that smartass was getting himself into a game he knew exactly how to play.

- Oh, so why do you need me? - the agent questioned, his voice purposely sounding like a deep whisper.

The boy sighed and shrugged smartly.

- Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled - he answered.

Amusement, that was the emotion Bond felt as his smile became bigger.

- Or not pulled - the agent said.

The boy sighed and giggled, raising a corner of his mouth.

- It's hard to know which in your pajamas - Bond quickly added before the other could reply.

The boy smiled at that, not just a well built, confident smirk, a real smile.

- Q - the boy said, extending his arm for a handshake.

Bond took his hand with frowned eyebrows, feeling the softness of Q's pale skin.

- That's a strange name - the agent replied, letting the boy's hand go after a few seconds.

Q shrugged smartly.

- It's Quincey, but I prefer Q, Mr Bond - he explained.

The agent simply nodded, allowing himself to completely smile as Q focused himself on his laptop again.

It was going to be fun.

#00q fanfiction #00q #00q fic #prompts #alternative universe