#''these are all exactly the same professionally curled styles''

[cappurrccino]

should I try to find some reference pics before I go to the hair salon on Saturday, or should I just go in and say "idk ma'am, just hit me with the beachy surfer vibes"

[nameless-jamie]

AAAAA I ABSOLUTELY LOVED NICE GUY! I'M OBSESSED WITH JEALOUS JAMIE!!! Can you write one where PA's old client (or some new footballer whatever you prefer) tries to steal her and he and Jamie have it out on the pitch during a match? I'd love if the team teased him after since "he's not a jealous type" and PA tells him she wouldn't leave him to calm him? Thanksssss!

Red Card Part 2

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, angry Jamie

A/N: Hi, I'm so glad you liked A Nice Guy. You're idea fits so well with a ff I posted yesterday called Red Cards, about an angry Y/N, so I basically was obsessed with the idea of making this part two (They both finally realize they are in love with each other) It doesn't really fit with the OG Ted Lasso timeline but idc. I wrote this all through the night (in my timezone lol) hope you like it!!!!

Y/N had worked with a few big names before Jamie Tartt.

She’d been in this business long enough to handle all kinds of footballers—prima donnas, workaholics, egomaniacs. Some had been a nightmare to deal with. Some had been decent, if a little demanding. And then there was Jamie, who was all of the above and yet still her favorite.

He could be a pain in the ass, sure—stubborn, dramatic, ridiculously high-maintenance—but he was also loyal, hilarious in the most unintentional ways, and, despite all his posturing, genuinely cared about the people close to him.

So yeah, she’d had other clients before him. But there was no one like Jamie.

And she sure as hell wasn’t planning on working for anyone else ever again.

Apparently, Declan Rice, a former client of hers hadn’t gotten that memo.

They’d worked together briefly during his last season at West Ham, before he transferred to Arsenal. He’d been an alright client—organized, professional, a little too flirty at times but never crossed the line. It had been strictly business.

She hadn’t thought much about him since.

Until now.

She spotted him during warm-ups at Arsenal’s home stadium, the Emirates, standing near the center circle with his teammates, rolling his shoulders and stretching before the match. He looked the same as he had when she’d worked for him—tall, confident, the picture of professionalism with his neatly styled hair and focused expression. But when his eyes landed on her, something sharp flickered in them, and he abandoned his warm-up, striding over toward the Richmond dugout where she stood with Ted, Roy, and Beard.

Jamie was further down the touchline, stretching with the rest of the Richmond squad, blissfully unaware.

Declan stopped beside her, giving her a slow once-over, an easy smirk curling his lips. “Hi Y/N, you still working for Tartt, then?”

Y/N crossed her arms, instantly on guard. “That a problem, Declan?”

He hummed. “Not a problem. Just surprised.” He gestured toward the Richmond crest on her jacket. “Thought someone like you would’ve moved on to bigger things by now.”

Ted let out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels. “Oof. Boy’s got a death wish.”

Beard just grunted while Roy muttered something profane under his breath that sounded like 'Fucking idiot'.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Declan didn’t seem fazed by her sharp tone. If anything, his smirk deepened. “Fair enough. But if you ever do wanna make a change and maybe work for a good player…” He winked. “You know where to find me.”

That was when Jamie’s head snapped up.

He hadn’t been paying much attention before, too focused on his own pre-game rituals, but the moment Declan winked, Jamie’s entire body went rigid. His gaze flickered between them, jaw tightening, his usually relaxed expression darkening into something unreadable.

Roy smirked. “Havin’ fun over there, Tartt?”

Jamie scowled. “Piss off, Roy.”

Ted just chuckled a little uneasy.

Jamie shot Declan a glare but said nothing, turning abruptly and jogging onto the pitch.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is gonna be a long match.”

From the very first whistle, Jamie was not himself.

Jamie tried to be professional.

He really, really did.

Normally, he played with fluid confidence, always a step ahead, making quick, clever passes and effortlessly weaving through defenders. But tonight? He was aggressive.

Every movement was sharp, every tackle a fraction too hard, every sprint laced with frustration. And the reason why was obvious.

Declan was everywhere.

Shoving him during corners. Smirking when he won possession. Blocking his runs just enough to be irritating but not enough to get penalized. And worst of all—glancing toward the sidelines where Y/N stood every chance he fucking got, as if reminding Jamie exactly who had his attention before the game started.

Jamie gritted his teeth, jaw aching from how hard he was clenching it. Fine. If Declan wanted to play dirty, Jamie wouldn’t hold back.

He slammed into him harder than necessary while fighting for the ball, sending Declan stumbling.

The ref blew his whistle immediately.

“Tartt, easy!” the ref warned.

Jamie didn’t respond. He just glared at Declan, stepping in close enough that their shoulders brushed.

Declan smirked, voice low. “Touchy, mate.”

Jamie glared at Declan. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

Declan smirked. “Didn’t know you owned her, mate.”

Jamie shoved him.

The ref immediately pulled out a yellow card.

Roy was already shouting from the sidelines. “Fucking hell, Jamie!”

Ted sighed. “Yeah, saw that one coming.”

Y/N closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Jamie knew he had to keep his cool. One more reckless move, and he’d be off. But then—Declan took it too far.

It happened in the 78th minute.

Richmond was down 2-1. They had a free kick just outside the box, a perfect opportunity to equalize. Jamie stepped up to take it, rolling his shoulders, focusing. He needed to block everything else out.

“Dunno what she sees in you, mate. Could give her a better offer, yeah?" Declan tried to rile Jamie up.

Jamie was good at ignoring his antics... at first.

And then—just as he was about to position himself—Declan leaned in, voice just loud enough for Jamie to hear:

"You know, she was the best assistant I ever had. Kept me real satisfied.”

Jamie’s blood froze.

Declan smirked. “Might have to steal her back. Think I’d enjoy breaking her in all over again.”

Jamie snapped.

There was no thought. No hesitation. Just pure, burning rage.

He swung his leg—not at the ball, but at Declan’s ankle.

Declan went crashing down, clutching his leg, rolling like he’d been shot.

The whistle shrieked.

The ref stormed over, fury in his eyes.

“TARTT—OFF!”

The red card flashed in the air.

The Richmond fans groaned in unison.

Jamie barely registered it, still seeing red. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving, his entire body wound so tight it felt like he might explode.

Declan, still on the ground, looked up at him with a satisfied smirk, while another Arsenal player pushed Jamie towards the exit saying ��Real mature, mate.”.

Jamie didn’t even care, he didn’t even argue. Just shot Declan a venomous glare as he stomped off.

The moment Jamie reached the sidelines, Roy exploded.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Ted sighed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Beard just shook his head.

Y/N stood there, arms crossed. “Seriously, Jamie?”

Jamie exhaled sharply. “He was chatin’ shit.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And that was worth getting sent off for?”

Jamie scowled. “Maybe.”

Her expression softened slightly. “What did he even say?”

Jamie hesitated. His fingers twitched at his sides. “Nothin’.”

She knew that wasn’t true. But she also knew Jamie, knew that whatever Declan had said had gotten under his skin badly.

Y/N exhaled. “We were losing. We needed you.”

Jamie hesitated. “Yeah, but—”

“No buts,” she shot back. “You let him get in your head.”

Jamie scowled. “Did not.”

Y/N just looked at him.

Later, when the match was over and the team was back in the locker room, the teasing began.

Richmond still managed to equalize in the final minutes, saving the match.

But Jamie’s red card? That was all the team wanted to talk about.

“Not jealous, huh Jamie?” Sam grinned.

“Proper alpha male moment,” Isaac added.

Colin smirked. “Never seen you so territorial, mate.”

Jamie groaned. “Piss off.”

Ted just patted his shoulder. “Jealousy’s a hell of a drug, son.”

Jamie grumbled under his breath before heading toward the physio room, where Y/N was waiting.

She turned when he entered, arms crossed. “You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Jamie sighed, rubbing his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

Y/N softened. “Why’d you let him get to you?”

Jamie hesitated. “…Dunno.”

She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Jamie.”

He exhaled. “Just—don’t like the idea of someone takin’ you away, yeah?”

Y/N blinked.

Then—softly, with a teasing smile she said. “You do realize I’m not a football transfer, right?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

She smirked. “So you don’t own me?”

Jamie groaned. “Fucking hell.”

Y/N laughed. “Fuck, you really are an idiot.”

Jamie leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot boss, so watch out.”

She flushed. “Shut up.”

He smirked. “Make me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish... Still not jealous, though?”

Jamie groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, now I hate you.”

She grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Jamie just pulled her closer into a tight hug.

Maybe he was the jealous type.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind, because he loves her...

[erisv7]

✾ SERIES.

𝖬𝖸 𝖲𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭 𝖡𝖮𝖸𝖥𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖭𝖣𝖲 || P1

✾ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ/s : ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛsᴜ ᴋᴀɪsᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✾ ᴘʟᴏᴛ : You dated several men at the same time, each seeing you as a tool for their own benefit. They manipulated you for their gain, knowing that as long as the money kept coming, your obsession with them would never fade.

The screen of your phone cast a dim glow on your face as you scrolled through the app—Girlfriend for Hire (GFH). The concept was simple: people could hire temporary girlfriends for dates, social events, or just companionship. It was all transactional. No strings attached.

And you? You were just here for the money.

You let out a small hum as you scrolled through requests, eyeing the most lucrative ones. Then, a particular name caught your attention: Nanami Kento.

A professor? That was rare. Most of your clients were businessmen, socialites, or the occasional celebrity. You clicked on his profile, curiosity piqued.

- Reason for hire: Workplace expectations

- Duration: Ongoing contract

- Conditions: No unnecessary public affection. Keep it professional.

A no-nonsense type. You smirked.

Interesting.

---

The first time you met him, it was at a quiet coffee shop near his university. He was punctual, arriving exactly at the agreed time. Dressed in a crisp suit with his blond hair neatly styled, he exuded an air of strict professionalism.

"You must be Nanami-san." You offered your hand with a practiced smile.

He hesitated briefly before shaking it. "Miss [Y/N]. Thank you for meeting me."

The handshake was firm but impersonal. You noted the way he observed you, as if assessing whether you were worth the investment.

"I like to set expectations early," he began, adjusting his cuffs. "This arrangement is not romantic. It is purely practical. My colleagues assume I have no social life. Having a girlfriend—real or otherwise—would put an end to unnecessary speculation."

You nodded, resting your chin on your hand. "Understood. And what exactly do you need from me? Dates? Dinners? Meeting colleagues?"

"All of the above," he confirmed. "But I have conditions. No excessive public displays of affection. No dramatics. And absolutely no real attachment."

You let out a soft chuckle. "You make it sound like I’d actually fall for you."

For the first time, a flicker of something crossed his face—amusement? Annoyance? You couldn't tell.

"People tend to blur the lines," he said simply. "I’d rather avoid complications."

---

Nanami was a man of structure. He set up a schedule for your meetings, sending you calendar invites like it was a business transaction.

At first, your outings were stiff, routine-like. You played your part well—attentive, supportive, but never too eager.

But then you started acting obsessed.

It started small. Lingering stares, soft sighs, subtle touches. You tilted your head whenever he spoke, smiling just a little too dreamily. You would occasionally mumble things under your breath like, "Nanami-kun, you’re so reliable… so strong…"

One evening, as you both sat in a quiet restaurant, you reached across the table, gently brushing your fingers against his wrist.

"Kento" you said softly, "I think about you all the time."

He froze mid-bite. Slowly, he set his utensils down, eyes narrowing slightly. "[Y/N]. This is a hired service."

You tilted your head, lips curling. "Is it? Because it doesn’t feel like that to me."

He exhaled sharply, as if composing himself. "I told you from the beginning—"

"I know," you interrupted, eyes shining. "But I can’t help it. You’re just… everything to me."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He didn’t respond immediately, instead taking a slow sip of his drink.

You could tell he was trying to convince himself this was still just a business deal.

---

Nanami’s tolerance for your affection wavered over time. He never encouraged it, but he also never truly rejected it.

"You’re staring again," he muttered one afternoon as you sat in his office.

You rested your chin on your hands. "Can’t help it. You’re so handsome when you’re working."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This wasn’t part of the agreement."

"Neither was taking me to that fancy gala last week," you pointed out. "Or calling me when you were sick."

He sighed. "That was for practical reasons."

"Mmhmm," you hummed, watching as his ears turned slightly pink.

---

Nanami took you to a formal gathering—some kind of graduation ceremony for his students. You had expected to stick by his side, but the moment you arrived, you were swarmed by his colleagues.

"Oh, so this is your girlfriend, Nanami?" one of them asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nanami gave a simple nod before immediately turning to discuss something with another professor, leaving you stranded.

You smiled politely, but as the minutes ticked by, frustration bubbled beneath the surface. The entire event felt like a dull networking meeting, with Nanami barely acknowledging your presence.

When you finally managed to catch his sleeve, he merely glanced at you. "I’ll find you later. Stay here."

And just like that, he was gone again.

All alone.

---

You simply stopped answering his calls.

You weren't doing it out of spite. You simply just found another boy-toy. Your contract was fulfilled. You had no reason to continue.

So, you blocked him.

For a while, nothing happened.

And then, the messages started.

Nanami: "You’re late. We had dinner planned."

Nanami: "I assume this is some sort of joke. Answer me."

Nanami: "Are you mad at me because I left you all alone?"

Nanami: "This is unprofessional."

A week passed. Then another.

One evening, as you left your apartment, you found him waiting near your building.

"You blocked me." His tone was calm, but there was something beneath it—something tight, controlled.

You smiled. "Didn’t you say no real attachment?"

His jaw clenched. "That was before."

You tilted your head. "Before what?"

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know. Because somewhere along the way, he had blurred the lines himself.

And now, he realized too late—you were no longer playing the game.

---

The first time you saw his name on the GFF app, you almost thought it was a prank.

Gojo Satoru.

The strongest sorcerer in the modern era. The one people whispered about in awe and fear. What was someone like him doing on a girlfriend-for-hire app?

Curiosity got the better of you. You accepted the request.

---

Gojo wasn’t one to settle down. His entire clan knew that. But traditions weighed heavily on the Gojo name, and lately, the pressure to accept an arranged marriage had been suffocating him.

So, he came up with a plan. A fake girlfriend, someone convincing enough to make his elders believe he was already in a committed relationship.

That’s where you came in.

- REASON FOR HIRE: Arrange marriage contracts

- DURATION: Three months, or more.

- CONDITION: No attachments, I know you would probably fall in love with me. But I also need other women.

“That’s all I need. You play the role, and in return, you get the easiest paycheck of your life.”

You arched a brow. “And what exactly does ‘playing the role’ entail?”

“Attend events with me. Hold my hand. Gaze at me like I’m the only man in the world.” He replied to the call, voice dropping into something softer. “Make them believe I’m in love.”

“Anything else?”

He smirked. “Just don’t actually fall for me.”

You laughed. If only he knew.

---

The moment you walked into the café, he was already waiting for you, sunglasses perched on his nose, spinning his phone between his fingers.

Satoru: "You’re cuter than I thought."

Y/N: "You actually expected something?"

Satoru: "Touché. So, you ready to be the best fake girlfriend the Gojo clan has ever seen?"

Y/N: "Of course. But first, let’s talk boundaries."

Satoru: "Ooh, so professional. Alright, let’s hear it."

Y/N: "After the contract, you can't hire me again."

Satoru: "Boring, but fair. Anything else?"

Y/N: "I get full payment regardless of how things end. No cutting the contract short."

Satoru: "Fair, fair. And in return, you have to be convincing. The clan is annoying, but they’re not stupid."

Y/N: "Don’t worry, ‘Toru. I’ll make them believe you’re completely, hopelessly in love with me."

Satoru: "‘Toru?"

---

You didn’t expect the Gojo elders to actually like you.

You had assumed they would scoff at your presence, but instead, they welcomed you with open arms. They praised your manners, your background, your poise. You were the perfect choice.

Satoru: "You’re ruining my plan, you know."

Y/N: "How?"

Satoru: "They actually want me to marry you now. You’re supposed to be the worst."

Y/N: "Sorry, I can’t help being lovable."

Satoru: "I should’ve picked someone more scandalous."

Reader: "You love it."

And maybe, at some point, he actually did.

---

At first, you kept things professional. You played the role of a devoted girlfriend, the one Gojo’s clan would adore. You smiled at his elders, held his hand at gatherings, and laughed at his dumb jokes.

Then, you started acting obsessed. You just needed him to push you away so you can get to your next boy-toy.

You clung to him, whispered sweet nothings, sent long messages about how much you missed him. You looked at him like he was your whole world.

Satoru: "You’re really selling this, huh?"

Y/N: "Is it so wrong that I adore you, ‘Toru?"

Something flickered in his expression, but he smirked.

Satoru: "Not at all. In fact, I love it."

---

Gojo was never subtle about his flings.

He would leave you alone at events, winking at you before disappearing with a girl on his arm. He would make sure you saw the lipstick stains on his collar, the lingering perfumes that weren’t yours.

One evening, as you sat next to him at a gathering, he leaned down to whisper—

Satoru: "You’re not actually mad, are you?"

Y/N: "Why would I be?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, we’re dating."

Y/N: "No, we’re pretending to date."

That was the first time he looked annoyed.

---

Gojo assumed you would always be around, looking at him with stars in your eyes. But then, you started pulling away. Your replies became shorter. The next time he texted to bring you to an event, you declined.

Satoru: "You busy?"

Y/N: "Yeah, I have plans."

Plans with another client. Someone who paid better.

And that was when Gojo started to notice.

---

At first, he laughed.

Satoru: "You’re just playing hard to get, aren’t you? Alright, I’ll bite. You win. Now come back."

Then, he got more desperate.

Satoru: "You’re not really mad, right? C’mon, I was just having fun."

Satoru: "Tell me you still love me."

Satoru: "Don’t ignore me."

By the end of the second week, his messages were erratic. Calls that went straight to voicemail. Texts left on read. He even tried tracking you down, but you had changed your routine.

And that’s when it hit him—

You weren’t coming back.

For the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru felt something he never had before. A gnawing, suffocating panic. Because you had been his, hadn’t you?

And yet, you were gone. Just like that.

But if he had anything to say about it…

You wouldn’t be gone for long.

--

The first time Y/N saw Geto Suguru’s name on the GFF app, she hesitated.

Unlike other clients, he wasn’t someone who needed a girlfriend in the traditional sense. He didn’t have a family pressuring him into an arranged marriage, nor did he need to convince colleagues he was taken.

So why did he hire her?

---

Suguru needed to maintain a certain image.

To his followers, he was their leader, their savior. But beneath that, there were whispers. Doubts. Some believed he had become too detached, too consumed by his hatred for non-sorcerers. If he wanted to maintain their faith in him, he had to show that he was still human. Capable of love.

“A girlfriend makes me seem more grounded,” he had explained over tea. “Less of a fanatic, more of a man with a vision.”

Y/N sipped her drink, meeting his gaze. “So, you want me to make you seem… normal?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

---

They met at a quiet, traditional-style teahouse. He was polite, almost unsettlingly so, speaking in a calm, measured voice.

“You look more refined than I expected,” he noted.

“And you look less unhinged than I expected.”

Suguru chuckled. “I like you already.”

Y/N leaned forward. “So, what are the conditions?”

“Public appearances, mostly. Attend a few gatherings, meet some of my followers, make them believe I still care about trivial things like romance.”

“And in private?” she asked.

His smile didn’t waver. “No obligations, unless you want there to be.”

---

At first, their interactions were formal. He treated her with the same distant politeness he gave everyone. But after a few weeks, something shifted.

He started lingering after meetings, inviting her to private dinners. He listened intently when she spoke, his golden eyes never straying.

“You’re quite good at this,” he murmured one evening.

“Faking love?” she teased.

“No. Making me believe it’s real.”

---

You played the role perfectly. In public, you clung to him, whispered sweet nothings into his ear, looked at him as if he was your entire world.

His followers noticed. They began to believe it, murmuring among themselves about how their leader had finally found someone who could anchor him.

And Geto, against his better judgment, started to believe it too.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” he asked one night.

“Why would I?” Y/N smiled. “You’re perfect.”

His expression was unreadable. “...I see.”

---

He never saw the shift happening. Not until it was too late.

Your messages became less frequent. You stopped attending gatherings unless necessary. You no longer looked at him with that same breathless admiration.

“You’re distracted lately,” he remarked.

“I have other clients,” you replied simply.

He paused. “I see.”

For the first time, something unpleasant coiled in his chest. He had always known this was temporary. And yet—

Why did the thought of you leaving make his hands clench into fists?

---

One day, you simply stopped responding.

At first, he told himself it was fine. You had served her purpose. He no longer needed to prove himself to anyone.

But then the silence stretched on. Days turned into a week. Then two.

“Did I miscalculate?” he muttered to himself.

He reached out once. Then twice. By the third time, he realized you had blocked him.

And for the first time in years, Geto Suguru felt something dangerously close to desperation.

Because you had become a part of his image. His control.

And now, without warning, she was gone.

He exhaled slowly, eyes dark with something unreadable. “I underestimated you.”

But he knows, Y/N wouldn’t stay gone forever.

---

Come back for part 2! This is just an introduction to my new series.

ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs : You know how there's some fan fictions on tiktok without part 2/or you have to pay to read it? I got inspired on one of them LOL.

@tinna.blue241 is the account! On tiktok

[lvmimis]

cw: another wishful ending to bnha. about shigaraki but mostly from izuku's perspective. hint of a future healed!shigaraki x reader.

Izuku is not sure what he should wear for an occasion like this. 

Between the grueling, far too hands-on curriculum of becoming a hero, becoming the greatest hero Japan had to offer, and the aftermath of meta war that felt like ages (and probably aged him too), it was all too easy for him to forget that he is, in fact, still a teenager.

And a teenager doesn’t exactly always know what to wear when going to decide the fate of another man’s life.

Despite the fact that he’s pretty sure Hawks doesn’t actually care what he looks like at this point, Inko is kind enough to iron a suit for him and adjust the now shaggy-when-regrown mop of green curls into something professional once he’s dressed. She pats his face, letting her hand rest on the scarred side of his cheek.

“I think it will go well,” she reassures him, even though she can sense that he’s nervous. “You’re doing a good thing.”

Izuku is mostly sure, possibly 99% sure, but the 1% of uncertainty dissipates with his mother’s words. He nods.

“Right.”

—

About 5 months have passed since the culmination of the meta war. Owing to the valiant efforts of the people, with Quirks and without them, the guidance of multiple construction companies (including the Urarakas who have made not shy of hundreds of millions during this time), and heavy political support from local and abroad, the city is mostly rebuilt, to the point that it would be hard to believe that so much was destroyed in such a short time ago in recent history.

Izuku finds his way to the new Hero commission and stops at the front desk to present identification but is quickly passed through with a big smile from the security guard’s face. It’s still hard for him to get used to this treatment, but he remains polite and bows before making his way down to the conference room in the email.

A formal Hero Commission email addressed to around ten people, give or take, and he’s probably the last to arrive of those few, all of them seated at a round table once he arrives. Panicking a bit, he checks the time but before he can look at his phone, Hawks takes a moment to give him a once over and then stifle a laugh at his outfit.

“Now, don’t you look dapper?” he jokes.

Hawks is wearing a fitted suit himself, but he’s now president of the Hero Commission so it’s not out of the ordinary. All Might, offering a pleasant but weary smile next to him, is also dressed up, but he has been a fan of fitted suits in the public eye recently anyway so that’s not strange. Best Jeanist is… well, Best Jeanist… and perfectly coiffed and styled in… denim jeans. Mirio, however, is dressed down in a plaid button down and plain slacks, and bounces up to greet him pulling him to sit by him, Nejire, and Tamaki.

“Nice threads, Izuku!” Mirio cheers, while Nejire pulls at the sleeve and asks him if he bought it at the thrift store. Tamaki stares at a wall, having hit capacity for the number of people in the room.

Izuku wasn’t the last person here because Mirko and Katsuki squabble loudly as they finally enter the room, with Edgeshot in his diminutive form and difficult to see upfront trailing close behind, possibly annoyed (you couldn’t tell from this distance). Mirko is wearing athletic wear and Katsuki is wearing-

A suit.

Katsuki and Izuku lock eyes and the recognition sets in at the same time. His cheeks turn red and then he looks away before shuffling into his seat.

Once everyone has been settled and assistants have brought in coffee and pastries, Hawks finally moves to the first order of business.

A hologram shows in the center of the room with two images - one of Tomura Shigaraki taken as an aerial shot while he was screaming, in the midst of the meta war, and just beside it, an image of Tenko Shimura taken just a few days ago, at a construction site using his Decay quirk for demolition as part of a community service effort, quirk disabling wristlets in full display with the ability to be toggled on and off. The contrasts between these two images are evident - the rage distorting the young man’s features as Shigaraki as he is positioned to destroy and kill, unkempt white hair flowing in the air and a small serenity emanating from the young man’s visage as Tenko as he works to disintegrate rubble and clear land for reconstruction, dark hair cropped short and tousled slightly by fall breeze. If you look closely there is a hint of a smile in the second image, and fear in the eyes of the first.

Two very different men.

“We’re here to discuss our next steps with Shig-, Tenko Shimura.”

All Might lets out a breath no one knew he was holding. Izuku wonders if it’s by All Might’s request that Hawks has used his correct name, perhaps to honor his mentor and Tenko’s grandmother. He makes a mental note to always do the same. 

Katsuki keeps his lips pressed into a straight line and doesn’t say a word; Izuku doesn’t blame him, and in another circumstance would have never imagined being willing to sit for this conversation so easily, but he also appreciates that Katsuki is present for this vote at the very least.

“Let’s go through the facts.”

Hawks, pacing around the room, recounts the actions of the man once known as Shigaraki Tomura, as well as delineates what actions are his specifically and what actions were in conjunction with All For One. He shares testimonials from various psychiatrists who have worked with Tenko in this short period of rehabilitation before this discussion and the people who have worked with him on community service. He provides excerpts from social media influencers as well as political and religious opinions. 

The case is long and drawn out and by the time he is done, Mirko is yawning loudly and Mirio is trying very hard not to fall asleep. Aizawa, however, is asleep in the corner of the room, having shown up dead last, and not interested in a word being said.

A vote is meant to be cast by the end of today. Izuku wonders if Tenko is on the other side of that door, waiting for his fate to be decided. 

If no one can agree to rehabilitate him, he will most likely go to jail, deprived of the ability to use any Quirks possibly for the rest of his life. His best chance is now, as Izuku does not imagine any turnover in power will allow him as much amnesty as the current group here.

Izuku has spent the last few months pleading to the Hero Commission to consider his proposal, using the very fact that Tenko relinquished his OFA-related Quirks back to him almost immediately as a perfect example.

Tenko did give his inner child a second chance, and Tenko did fight back. He just needed help.

“All motions to go forth with a continued rehabilitation plan, please say-”

Mirko raises her hand immediately, interrupting.

“Aye.”

Placing both her feet on the edge of the table, she defends herself before anyone can ask.

“If he tries some shit again, I get a rematch,” she says, grinning. All Might gives her a pleased look but says nothing.

Aizawa chimes in from inside his sleeping bag.

“Aye.”

While Izuku’s eyes widen, Katsuki finally interjects.

“Have you guys forgotten this man killed me?”

“And lifted you up with his toes.” Mirko adds. “But you lived, didn’t you, pipsqueak?” she says, grinning. 

Best Jeanist, not at all pleased by the joke, raises his hand.

“Nay. This is a ridiculous idea.”

“What’s ridiculous is your outfits but we don’t-”

All Might clears his throat. “Aye.”

Endeavor takes a look at All Might, crossing his arms over his chest. His retirement is still hot off the presses, and he chooses to take a step back here too.

“Abstain.”

Izuku’s heart is racing and he’s not exactly sure why. Part of this waiting period involves Izuku keeping an eye on Tenko and in repeated conversations, he has always gotten the sense that Tenko could change but his hope had been tempered. The truth was, as much as he wanted to save Tenko, a small part of him was still a little angry for the harm he did, and he imagined that if he felt that way, it was only a fraction of what the public and his peers must feel.

But today, there seems to be a chance.

“Aye!” Mirio and Nejire say in unison and Tamaki quickly follows up. 

Katsuki rises suddenly and leaves the room and while Izuku wants to follow him, he knows that it’s a waste of time.

That’s a problem for days to come.

“And why exactly are we forgiving him?” Best Jeanist asks, as he rises himself to go after his student.

“Because we don’t plan to leave anyone behind,” Edgeshot finally admits. Best Jeanist shakes his head.

“It stays Nay for me but it’s your responsibility.” 

He files out of the room, but Hawks’ smile isn’t deterred, knowing he’ll come around. 

The majority chooses hope.

—

Four and a half years have passed since that vote.

Izuku watches his friend, a girl from the support class a year above him who isn’t Hatsume but just as good in her own realm, fiddle with tracking devices and quirk-neutralizing wristlets attached to the first iteration of Entropy’s Hero suit. Entropy’s hero costume doesn’t include a mask, but Izuku has an inkling that no one will recognize him prior to his debut as the man who almost laid waste to the entire country. There is something about a person’s soul that can permeate a vessel, it’s a reminder that beauty is only skin deep, but goodness will shine through no matter what one looks like.

Tenko is however somewhat handsome in the way that his Hero grandmother was beautiful and that helps. Wavy, dark hair frames his face to a shoulder length, and his dark eyes are actually warm now that he’s had time to shed off most of the loneliness. He’s filled out slightly with better food and less angst, which is another thing that is sure to make him more appealing to the masses. 

Izuku can still sense the trepidation however in the slight tremble of Tenko’s fingertips as he holds them out for the support engineer to readjust the gloves, and wonders if he’s projecting.

Part of the arrangement for Entropy’s debut is for Deku and Entropy to work as partners for at least a year to satisfy the civilians who still don’t trust him (with good reason) as a contingency plan in case Tenko changes his mind about being a productive member of society and needs someone to stop him a second time.

Izuku is pretty sure he won’t fall back into that dark place again by now, even if a select few will never, ever forgive him. Even Katsuki still grumbles, but agrees that Izuku might be right. 

“I feel like a leashed dog still,” Tenko finally pipes up as the engineer adjusts the literal silver collar on his neck. It’s meant to be a joke but it’s not exactly false. Izuku offers him a small consoling smile.

“It makes the commission happy, so bear with it, I guess.” Izuku says. It’s a lame response, he admits, but it’s all he has to offer. 

Between the emergency shock collar that’s stylized to appear as part of the prototype suit, a physical tracker, and internal restraints, there are a lot of things to stop Tenko from becoming Tomura again, but at least the adjustment of all of these in the homey atmosphere of Izuku’s apartment feels less like house arrest. 

Izuku’s girlfriend peers in from time to time from where she’s holed up studying for clinical examinations to check on their progress, a steaming mug in her hand. The girls wave at each other before she disappears again and locks the door, loud music with heavy bass playing from her computer speakers. 

It’s a miracle she’s not afraid of Tenko given Tomura almost killed her during the meta war too, but Izuku understands that this is a testament to how much she trusts his judgment. 

“Thank you for doing this,” he says finally to his friend. She practically beams.

“I’m just giving you the ‘your future wife is my bestie’ discount.”

Izuku goes red at the ears and Tenko stifles a laugh. She turns and gives him a look and he immediately looks away, somewhat startled by how quickly she gets into his face.

“It is however a really big favor, I just worry you’ll be somewhat accountable if something goes wrong, too.”

Tenko frowns. “I’m right here, you know,” he murmurs. He pauses before he uses her professional name, which turns out to not be so professional at all. “... Sparkles.”

Sparkles doesn’t hear him, the jitteriness of three days of no sleep in the setting of piled up audits at her security technologies company getting to her. “Just don’t forget to get me the paperwork, Izuku.” 

She then turns her attention back to Tenko finally as Izuku searches for a pen in a basket under the coffee table.

Tenko again, possibly too affected by how quickly, she moves, seems to stand up a little straighter as she sizes him up.

“Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Sparkles hadn’t realized Izuku’s girlfriend had left the room again to grab more sugar for her tea.

“If he says yes, what exactly are you gonna do, babe?” she hollers, disappearing again before waiting for the answer. Izuku chuckles.

“I’d ask him if he meant it,” she yells back. She turns to him again, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Do you mean it? Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Tenko tenses up and Izuku tries not to laugh, wondering if he should leave Tenko to Sparkles’ charms or allow him to rest.

Regardless, he has great aspiration for the world’s former greatest villain’s future, yet.

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 1

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

Rating:  E

Warnings:  On the series; smut, family trauma, bad workplaces  On this chapter; sexual innuendo

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count:  3109

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

A/N:  IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

It was the dream life.  An apartment on the upper west side of New York, located in a beautiful old brownstone.  A career in journalism.  Getting to interview an actual Avenger.  When Melody Danes boiled down her life to its bones, it was exactly how she had planned it out.

Of course, that did ignore some pretty glaring oversights.  Like how she actually had two jobs.  The journalist position was an underpaid internship that barely covered food let alone rent and bills.  Or that the internship was with the Daily Bugle, one of the most despicable publications in the world, with the worst boss she had ever worked for.  Or how she lived with her cousin in a one-bedroom apartment, because neither of them could afford anything bigger in the city - even with Bobbi working three jobs.  Something that left Melody relegated to a bed that was walled off from the rest of the living room with bamboo screens, while Bobbi got the bedroom because she paid the bigger portion of the rent.  Or the fact that the apartment itself was a shit hole that had unreliable plumbing, heat, and super to fix anything.

Still, she didn’t like to complain.  She was in New York, the city she’d dreamed about living in her whole life.  Plus, there were worse roommates than Bobbi.  Melody and Bobbi had grown up in the same small town in Oregon.  They weren’t technically even cousins, but rather the children of best friends who had been born a few months apart.  The two ‘cousins’ had grown up together being subjected to years and years of taunting about when the two would get married, and constant mentions of Bobbi being Melody’s boyfriend despite the fact Melody had always seen Bobbi more as a sibling than a potential romantic partner.

Of course, back then Bobbi had been known as Roberto.  Interestingly, as soon as she’d transitioned, all jokes about Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez had stopped immediately because suddenly, it wasn't only Melody and Bobbi being made to feel uncomfortable but their parents as well.

The two had remained close throughout everything and had made the promise that they would support each other to get their dreams realized.  Melody’s dream of being a journalist or author, and Bobbi’s of acting.  Yes, there were occasional disagreements that popped up stemming from sharing such a small space, but through it all they’d held on to that support.

That was why, when Melody had come home freaking out about the fact she was going to interview the Captain America - and not just for a short piece, but an in-depth personality profile over a week, Bobbi was the first one to congratulate her.  She then brought all her friends from her job at the dinner theatre to help find her something to wear.

It was why she was now headed down East 45th in heels that were a little too big and a pantsuit that was a little flashier than she would have liked, looking for the Comfort Diner.

Despite being a little wobbly on her feet, she felt good.  Nervous.  Excited.  But good.  The pantsuit did make her look professional, and her friends had done her hair so her black curls were pinned back in an almost 1920s-style wave that was folded over in a loop at the nape of her neck.  Her makeup was immaculate and her copper complexion gave off an almost glow in the light.  More importantly, this interview was her golden ticket.  It wasn’t even supposed to be Melody that got this interview.  The person who was originally assigned to it had written one too many scathing think pieces about the Avengers. She’d been told neither Captain Rogers nor any of the other Avengers were willing to talk to her anymore.  A quick scramble through the other reporters had only brought back people who were either in the middle of assignments or were equally loathed by the Avengers and so they had handed it to the intern with the most promise.  Melody Danes.

As she made her way down the street, her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. It was just a brief catch, but given her shoes were the wrong size it caused her to stumble forward directly into a huge wall of muscle.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the wall said as it steadied her with large hands.

She was about to answer that ‘she was until some stranger called her ma’am’ when she looked up into the clear blue eyes of Captain America, and the words caught in her throat.

He was somehow even more attractive in person.  He had a broad chest and muscular arms that seemed to be testing the tensile strength of his shirt as he supported her.

That was not what drew her attention most.  His face held her captivated.  His skin was flawless, his pores so small they almost looked airbrushed out, and his complexion was the color of peaches and cream.  He had a square jaw and a straight, narrow nose that both exuded masculinity. Yet, his high cheekbones, full lips, and long dark eyelashes were all beautifully feminine.  All this paired with the pale blue of his eyes and for a moment she was lost for words.

“I’m fine,” she said when her brain finally kicked into place again.  “Embarrassed mostly.  I’m actually going to meet you for lunch.”

“You’re the one from the Bugle?” Steve asked, his tone giving away his surprise.

“That’s right,” she said, straightening herself out.  She offered him her hand.  “I’m Melody Dane from DB.  Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Steve replied, shaking her hand.  “I guess you just weren’t what I expected.”

The two began making their way to the diner together, both still staring at each other.

“What were you expecting?” she asked.

Steve shrugged.  “I don’t know, to be honest.  A trilby with a press pass sticking out of it?”

She started laughing.  “I’ll wear one next time.  Though I do have my press pass here if you’d like me to stick it in my hair or something.”

Steve’s laughter joined her and he shook his head.  “That’s okay.  You can keep it in your purse.”

They entered the cute little 50s-style diner and took one of the booths up the back.  The greeter set them up with menus and left to get their drinks while they decided what they wanted.  She set up her recorder and notepad on the table.

“So, I’m not sure what it is you were after,” Steve said as his eyes flicked over the menu.  “The Bugle is always just investigative reporting, and if I’m honest, they don’t do a great job investigating.”

She laughed.  “You’re telling me,” she said.  “It’s barely above a tabloid magazine.  It runs on sensationalism.  But with the way that the internet is affecting print media, they’re trying to branch out into different things.  This is technically a profile piece for a yet-to-be-named magazine.  They want a story about the man behind the shield.  I’ll come talk to you a few times over the next week.  We’re going to do a little tour of Brooklyn so you can tell me how it’s changed.  Other than that, whatever access you’re willing to give me, the better I can craft the article.  I’m not here to make you look bad.  We just want a piece that shows the world that there’s more to you than a flag.”

“How does that fit in with Jameson’s whole superhero menace thing he does?  I mean, this was going to be conducted by Norah Winters, right?  She’s not exactly our biggest fan either?” Steve asked.

“I’m not Norah Winters,” Melody said.  “Norah Winters couldn’t even get you to agree to sit down with her.  I’m hoping that the fact they chose me after running through just about everyone else in the paper, might allow for some room to grow trust.”

Steve nodded and poured himself a glass of water. “Okay.  Well, I’m here.  I guess we’ll see how we go.”

“My first question is; why did you want me to meet you here?  You were asleep for the 1950s, so it can’t be a nostalgia thing,” she asked.

“Honestly?  I’ve never actually been here before,” Steve said.  “I just wanted somewhere that wasn’t intruding on my space, that was relaxed enough that I didn’t feel like I was on display.”

“Do you often feel on display?” she asked.

“All the time,” he said.  “Since the day I was given the serum.  It’s part of the job.  There are people out there who are okay just saving the day and slinking back into the shadows, but what I do - or at least what I hope I’m doing - is giving people someone to rally behind.  It means that I draw attention to myself and I have to make sure that what I believe in is stated clearly or people use me as a symbol of oppression.  It means that I need to teach with actions, not words.”

The waitress came over with the drinks and Melody and Steve placed their orders.  She opted for the soup and sandwich, while Steve went for the steak.

When she was alone again, she took a sip of her coffee and watched Steve toy with his cup. The white branded mug looked tiny in his hands.  “Does that get hard?” she asked.  “Being on all the time.  I mean no one is perfect.”

He nodded.  “But I hope what I do helps in some way.  Not just the obvious ones where I save lives because of an alien attack.  But maybe if people see that I am standing up for people, they might do it too.  I mean - I wasn't always this-” he gestured vaguely to himself.  “I was this tiny guy with a huge list of medical conditions….”

“I did read that list,” she said.  She’d done her research coming into this.  She’d known Steve Rogers had been marked 4F several times and that the list of his medical conditions was as long as her arm.  “People always seem to always focus on the asthma, but some of those conditions are debilitating.”

Steve nodded.  “I was a perpetual letdown for my father.  All he wanted was a good strong son who could follow in his footsteps, but what he got was a sick kid they didn’t expect would make it to adulthood,” he explained.  “The ulcers paired with the anemia were the worst.  I had to eat a pound of raw liver a day but I was constantly throwing up or having heartburn.  You're right, there were a lot of conditions but those two were the worst.  It’s given me a weird relationship with food now.”

She was surprised by how open he was.  She’d expected him to be a little more closed off this early on and yet, he was freely sharing details about the trouble he had growing up.  “What do you mean by that?”

The waiter chose that moment to bring over their meals.  Steve looked down at the steak in front of him.  “Well, take this,” he said.  “Steak is fine.  But is it what I wanted?  I’m not even sure.  I chose it because it looked like it was the best combination of protein and carbohydrates to get me through until dinner.  The serum has made it so I burn through calories so fast, so if I eat something like pancakes or pie, I end up having a crash an hour or so later.  And I can’t have that because it means I have to eat again.  And for a guy who grew up through the great depression with medical conditions that made it so that he had to eat pounds of raw meat that I’d just end up throwing up - well I can’t take constantly eating throughout the day.”

Her heart broke for him and she had to resist the urge to reach over the table and take his hand.  “So what you’re saying is, you really wished you’d ordered pancakes?”

He gave a little side nod.  “Kinda, yeah,” he said.  “But even acknowledging that out loud - I will still just eat this steak.  But I’ll feel uncomfortable eating in front of you because you’re a stranger, even though I need it to get through the rest of the day.”

She nodded in understanding.  The burden of trauma was a hard thing to shake.  Even if you were a superhero.  “That really does suck.  I do understand it though.  It’s hard to retrain yourself.  In fact, if you figure out how to do it, let me know.”

He smiled at her and began to cut his steak.  She took a moment to take a bite from her sandwich.  It was surprisingly good for something from a diner and she couldn’t help the soft hum that escaped her lips.  “I don’t want you to have to dwell too much on your illnesses if you don’t want to - but I do have one more specific question about it.  Is it true they used to treat asthma with cigarettes back then?”

Steve laughed.  “They used to treat lots of things with cigarettes,” he said.  “The asthma ones weren’t usually tobacco cigarettes mind you.  Not that they were necessarily better than tobacco ones.  If memory serves me arsenic and belladonna were some key ingredients used.  They also told my mom to give them to me for the scoliosis and heart palpitations.  But they played havoc on my stomach. They also told me I should drink a lot of coffee.”

She shook her head in disbelief.  “You ever wonder what the things we all accept as true now will be looked at as being completely crazy in the future?”

Steve thought for a moment and when he spoke it was almost like he was talking to himself.  “Circumcision.”

She nearly choked on her soup, which made Steve laugh and lean over, patting her on the back.  “I’m sorry.  It was the first thing that popped into my head.  I mean - that wasn’t even something people did much out of religious reasons back in my day.”

“You’re totally right.  They brought it in in the fifties to stop men masturbating, but I wasn’t expecting Captain America to bring up circumcision,” she said, still laughing.

“I’m so sorry,’ Steve said again.  “God - I can’t believe I did that.” 

“It’s fine,” she giggled. “Seriously.  Oh man…”

Steve ran his hand down his face.  “I will say this though,” he said.  “Even after all this time with the serum, I still feel like I’m that guy.  I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed bubblegum.  I still remember every time I got beaten by some bully trying to keep me down and I still remember getting up, because my mom always said you keep getting up or they win.  I still go into every battle remembering that and holding it with me, because I know what it’s like to have someone try and use their strength to keep me down and I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

She nodded and wrote the quote ‘I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed up bubblegum’ into her notebook.  “What did it feel like when you changed?”

“It was really sudden.  I went into this thing that was like a metal coffin and pumped full of these drugs while they irradiated me.  The process was excruciatingly painful.  I started changing right away.  It felt like I was being stretched out in all directions.  Then it stopped and the pain stopped with it.  And not just the pain of the change.  All my pain.  My stomach didn’t hurt.  My chest didn’t hurt.  I didn’t have pain in my back.  When I took a breath it went in easily and filled my lungs.  And then on top of the very noticeable lack of pain, I had other things, like my heart didn’t feel like it was racing for a change.  I could see colors properly.  I don’t even think I could describe what that was like.  And all of it mixed together …” he trailed off and shook his head.  “I apologize, I’m going to be crass again and I hope that you might do me the favor by paraphrasing this, so I don’t sound like some kind of pervert, but it was like that feeling you have when you orgasm, only magnified by a hundred.” 

“Wow,” she said and took a large bite from his sandwich.  She chewed it thoughtfully as she tried to imagine how extreme that would feel.  “That’s something.”

He nodded. “It’s a shame that they lost the formula.  I mean - I know having a bunch of rogue super-soldiers out in the world isn’t necessarily a good thing, but if there was a way you could cure disease as easily as that still out in the world, imagine how far we would have come by now?”

She nodded.  “It would have been an impressive piece of medical science.  And it would be a very different world where no one had to worry about illness.”

They both sat quietly in thought for a moment as they ate. “So,” she said, finally breaking the silence.  “I said before, we wanted to get to know the man behind the shield, and I’m certainly hoping I get to know the real Steve Rogers doing this, but do you think there’s a difference between Steve Rogers and Captain America?”

“Of course,” Steve answered quickly.  “I think that’s true for everyone, right?  I’m sure you sitting there interviewing me isn’t the same person you are when you’re home with your family or out with your friends.  Knowing the publication you work for, I’m sure it’s not even the same person you are in the office.  We put different aspects of ourselves forward all the time.  If you’re asking where the divide between Steve Rogers and Captain America is - I’m not sure.  I’ve put so much of myself into this for so long… I don’t know who I am without it.  I know I’d always want to stand up and fight for what I believe in.  I know I’d always want to stand up for the little guys.  But aside from that… I couldn’t say.”

She frowned a little.  “I guess I can see how that could happen,” she said.  Though the admission made her realize something, article or no article, she wanted to find out who Steve Rogers was for his sake as much as how drawn to him she already was.

// NEXT

[robinsnest2111]

how do you keep your hair thick? i want 80/90s goth sort of hair too but my hair is shitty so i'm scared teasing it will make it fall out :b also i'm wishing you all the best luck i possibly can. i'm on the same path and lots of people want us to pretend we've always been who we are now, but don't ever let someone make you feel like you have to pretend you didn't care about yourself and other people so much that you started this process and are still in it because this active form of love shouldn't be shameful. and don't ever let someone make you feel unequal to them because they aren't changing or have changed because we aren't beneath them. sorry for the long message :)

hi anon, thank you for your patience

tbh keeping your hair thick with as many layers as the teased up hairstyles require only works up to a certain length I've found, depending on the number of layers and the length of the shortest and longest ones, and if you want the layers to be connected or disconnected.

I'm not a professional (I have learned quite a bit through haircut experimentation and interning at several salons tho) but thickness is mostly an illusion created by the layers.

at the moment my hair is quite thin and light (esp. the longest bits), my hairdresser sacrificed around 40% of my length/thickness for the shorter layers on top. these two parts aren't fully connected/continuously layered either.

with the right styling and products it does end up looking thicker than it actually is (tho my hair is a stubborn beast and goes flat like a pancake if I don't pack in volumizing powder and tease and/or curl topped with half a can of hairspray)

also teasing up your hair won't make it fall out. if you're careful about removing the teasing, allow your hair a good break in-between styles with nice hair type appropriate conditioners, it'll be just fine. at least that's my experience. Madi Danger and It's Black Friday have a couple hair tutorial videos on YouTube I believe where they also talk about the brushing out process.

you can either do it dry or wet, depending on what works better for you. for me personally doing a gentle dry brush out with leave in conditioner added halfway through before removing the product buildup in the shower works best for me, some swear by doing all of the brushing out in the shower. I gave it a try but in my case it took way too long and it felt like I wasted a lot of water and conditioner in the process lol

either way, I hope this long ramble helps you on your goth hair journey and thank you so much for your kind words! tbh I'm a bit lost what exactly they're in response to but I thank you nonetheless <3

[nicolahoneyartistry]

Get a Hair & Makeup Artist in Worcestershire, So You Can Feel Like Yourself on Your Big Day: Alternative Bridal Hair & Makeup That Stands Out

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….Bee lovely….

[bongaboi]

Real Madrid: 2024 FIFA Intercontinental Cup Champions

Real Madrid 3-0 Pachuca Goals: Kylian Mbappe (37), Rodrygo (53), Vinicius Jr (84 pen)

Real Madrid are the FIFA Intercontinental Cup 2024™ champions after beating Pachuca 3-0 in Wednesday’s final.

Kylian Mbappe, Rodrygo and Vinicius Jr were on target for Carlo Ancelotti’s side, who rounded off a superb year in style at Lusail Stadium.

Exactly two years after scoring a hat-trick at the same venue in the FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022™ final, Mbappe applied the finishing touch to a slick team move to put Madrid in front. Jude Bellingham played in Vinicius Jr, who produced some dazzling footwork to take the ball around Pachuca goalkeeper Carlos Moreno, before squaring for the Frenchman to slot into an empty net.

Pachuca had, in fact, started the game brightly and Luis Rodriguez fired an early warning shot, but Thibaut Courtois was equal to his powerful drive.

Madrid, however, gradually started to stamp their authority on the game and, after Mbappe put them ahead, the striker almost made it 2-0 when he rifled a 20-yard shot just past the post.

Madrid would double their advantage just after half-time, with Rodrygo curling home wonderful effort from the edge of the penalty area. There was a VAR review as Bellingham was standing in an offside position when Rodrygo took aim, but the referee judged he was not interfering.

Pachuca, to their credit, refused to buckle and captain Salomon Rondon saw a sweetly struck free-kick well saved by Courtois. The veteran striker then went even closer to reducing the deficit when his header went inches over the bar.

Madrid, however, put the game beyond doubt late in the piece. Vinicius – fresh from being named The Best FIFA Men’s Player on Tuesday night – converted an 84th-minute penalty to crown a dream trip to Qatar for the Brazilian.

Quotes “I am very happy, it is natural. We did the things we prepared and this made the difference. Everyone played a good match, I am very happy. It was a match that in the middle of the season could have caused problems and instead we deservedly won it." Carlo Ancelotti, Real Madrid coach

"These two days have been incredible for me. Yesterday, I received the award for best player in the world – and today I came here and won and was named the best player of the match.” Vinicius Jr, Real Madrid forward

"I've been following Vini since when he started in Brazil. We never played against each other in the professional league, only with youth teams. We've always talked about all the difficulties he had in the beginning. He is an example of resilience, for everything he went through, and now he has become the best player in the world. I’m always happy for my friend's achievements, especially after seeing his work every day.” Rodrygo, Real Madrid forward

"We had our chances, but their efficiency was decisive. We had opportunities and couldn’t capitalise on them. Many young players gained their first international experience throughout the tournament. It was an amazing experience. Of course, we wanted to win the final, but the effort was outstanding." Guillermo Almada, Pachuca coach

Award winners Aramco Player of the Tournament: Vinicius Jr adidas Golden Ball: Vinicius Jr adidas Silver Ball: Federico Valverde adidas Bronze Ball: Elias Montiel

[daria-iz]

Hollywood waves – what do they look like and how to make them?

Hollywood waves are synonymous with elegance, good taste, chic and class. This hairstyle looks great during big outings, which is why celebrities on the red carpet are so eager to wear them. It is also very popular among brides who want to attract the eyes of guests not only with a phenomenal dress, but also with a beautiful hairstyle. What do Hollywood waves look like, how to make and fix them?

Big stars bet on the Hollywood waves

Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Lopez or Lana Del Rey – these are just some of the stars of the screen and stage who have opted for a hairstyle in the style of Hollywood waves in their careers. This hairstyle is tempting with its unusual, sophisticated look. Its growing popularity is due to its many advantages. What?

Advantages of Hollywood Waves

They emphasize and add femininity.

They are very effective.

They allow you to easily change your image.

They are associated with luxury.

They optically add more volume and density to the hair.

Contrary to appearances, they are easy to style.

To create them, all you need is a curling iron or straightener.

They emphasize the natural charm.

What are the characteristics of Hollywood waves?

This type of hairstyle has several most important features, which include:

beautiful, symmetrical waves,

optically higher density,

A healthy, glowing look.

Care before making Hollywood waves

Before making Hollywood waves, it is very important to take proper, tailor-made care. Hair in this hairstyle should look very healthy and full of shine. Therefore, care cosmetics should take care of their condition, but without overloading them. All this to make waves with ease and make them last for hours. So bet on light and non-weighty cosmetic formulas!

Put your hair in the hands of a professional

If you have no experience in styling Hollywood waves, be sure to put your hair in the hands of a professional before an important event. An experienced hairstylist will tell you whether such a hairstyle can be done on your strands, and will also choose the best styling methods.

What will you do with Hollywood waves?

To prepare such a hairstyle you will need:

a round styling brush – choose its diameter in terms of the length and density of your hair;

straightener (you can choose the one with rounded outer edges, i.e. with a curling iron function);

silk rollers – it is an alternative to thermal devices. Thanks to the rollers, you will be sure that your hair will not get damaged;

comb with a skewer – it will be very helpful during styling;

a curling iron, e.g. conical, which will make it easier to make the desired curl;

styling cosmetics, which you can read more about below.

How to make Hollywood waves? Step-by-step instructions

Gently cleanse your hair with a natural shampoo.

Apply a conditioner with a light and weightless formula to the strands,

After rinsing the strands and draining off excess water, apply a small amount of heat protection product and dry the strands with a dryer with an ionization function.

Comb your hair thoroughly.

Using a skewer comb, divide your hair into three layers – from bottom to top. Tie these higher layers with an elastic band and start styling from the bottom.

Wind a strand of strands near your ear onto the curling iron, curling them outwards. Repeat this action on subsequent sections of hair, all curling outwards.

After finishing styling the first layer, wind your hair in the next ones in exactly the same way.

Set strands with a spray.

You can also make Hollywood waves with a straightener with rounded edges or with silk rollers or thermolocks.

Hollywood Wave Styling

Hollywood waves is a hairstyle that will add chic and elegance to you. Properly made, it will attract attention and tempt with its beauty and symmetry. It works well on both medium-length and much longer hair. You can try to prepare it at home, as well as seek professional help from an expert. Before an important day, such as a wedding, we definitely recommend a hairdressing salon. On a daily basis, you can opt for home styling – both warm and using less invasive methods, such as silk rollers.

[bluepenguinnn]

How to Make Your Wig Look More Natural

Wigs are great and very convenient pieces for hairstyle variation, but it's sometimes hard to gain a natural and seamless look. You are wearing a wig for medical reasons, fashion, or simply as a protective style-you want your wigs to look like your real hair and not fake or synthetic at all. With good care, styling techniques, and accessories, you can make your wig look incredibly real. Let's dig into some really important tips that will help your wig look more natural in this blog, especially in terms of blending, styling, and enhancing texture.

Choose the right wig for your natural look The first step to making your wig look more natural is the right style. When selecting a wig, you want to find one that mimics your natural hair type, color, and texture as closely as possible. This will ensure a seamless blend and make the wig appear more authentic.

If you have fine, straight hair, consider a wig that features the same smooth texture. On the other hand, if you have thick, curly hair, choose a wig with voluminous curls or waves that resemble your natural curl pattern. Many people find that opting for wigs made of glossy hair bundles can provide a more natural look. The bundles give the hair a healthy shine and texture, making the hair very similar to natural hair. They are also so flexible to use in styling, so it can be achieved with a soft, bouncy look without feeling heavy or artificial.

Trim the Wig for a Custom Fit One of the ways you can make a wig appear more natural is by cutting it to your style. Most wigs have pre-style cuts, but their exact cuts might not fit exactly where you want them to. In case you possess the skills, you could cut the wig yourself or even send it to a professional stylist who will cut it to a custom fit. The reason is that these are long wigs or bangs-cutting wigs; if the wig is too long, clumsy, or unbecoming to your face, it becomes quickly believable as a fake.

Trimming the hair slightly to suit the form of face will help the wig be much more incorporated into your overall style. For example, if a person has a round face, layers or even trims around the top and sides would work well with adding more volume. A stylist can assist in shaping the wig to give it a softer, more lived-in look.

Use the Right Products to Enhance the Look One of the most straightforward ways to make your wig look more natural would be to use the appropriate products to enhance texture, shine, and movement. Just like your own hair, wigs need care and styling products to look their absolute best. If you're using a human hair wig, treat it just as you would your natural hair: shampoos, conditioners, and styling products that work with wigs or your hair type.

Always use synthetic-specific products when using synthetic wigs, as regular hair products may damage it. For instance, an application of a light oil or shine spray to your wig will result in a glossy and healthy shine that hints at life, much like real hair. Then, of course, glossy hair bundles in your wig for further smoothness and luster. For volume or texture wigs, the hair can make use of lightweight mousses or styling gels for curl or wave definition without pulling the hair down.

Blending Natural Hair with The Wig It is very important that blending your natural hair with your wig makes the look seem more realistic. For individuals whose hair is shorter, all that's necessary is putting your natural hair under a wig cap then holding it in place using bobby pins and ensuring that the wig's base is fitted snugly around the edge of your natural hairline. Well, for those who have longer hair, then it calls for a lot of effort.

Braid or twist your natural hair flat in one section, making a smooth base under the wig. This will prevent any bulges or lumps from showing through the wig, making it lay flat against your scalp. Use the wig cap to hold your natural hair in place. Your natural hair is further smoothed out by wig caps, which creates a transition seamlessness from your hairline to the wig. In lace front wigs, it is crucial to have the lace tinted to match the color of your skin, and the wig glued or taped down securely along the hairline so as not to show the edges. A great trick is to apply some foundation or concealer to the lace front to create a more seamless blend with the scalp.

Installing a Lace Front or Full Lace Wig for a Realistic Hairline The hairline must definitely be one of the most obvious parts of any wig. If it's too thick or doesn't merge well with your natural hairline, then this will be fake. One way to get a more realistic look would be to look into lace front wigs or full lace wigs. These have a lace material at the front part, or all around, allowing for the illusion of natural hair growth directly out of your scalp.

Lace front wigs offer one more flexibility with styling than any other type of wig, especially if you are looking to wear the wig completely off your face, be it in a ponytail or an updo. You can also pull the hair back slightly without showing the true edges of the lace front, making your wig look even more natural.

Just make sure to blend it well with your skin by using the makeup or lace tint spray compatible with your skin tone. When applied correctly, the lace should disappear to the scalp, making it seem like your hair is actually growing from your head.

Add Volume and Texture for a More Lived-In Look Wigs can at times look just too "perfect," especially if they have a uniform texture or appear unnaturally sleek. Adding volume and texture makes your wig more natural and less like a helmet of hair.

Curl or wave hair for added texture, especially if your wig is straight and lacks body. Gently tease the roots for added volume and lift. Be sure not to tease too much, as this can cause tangling and look unnatural. Spray dry shampoo for added volume and to reduce shine. If the wig is particularly shiny, a light dusting of dry shampoo should help it look more matte, ultimately making it more realistic. If you have long hair extensions or a full wig, adding some layers can break up the uniformity of hair, making it look more like your natural growth. Long hair, when all one length, can be stiff and fake. Adding subtle layers will make the wig flow more naturally and give it a less "done" appearance.

Secure Your Wig Properly for Comfort and Confidence A wig that constantly shifts, slides, or feels uncomfortable can break the illusion that it is natural. Proper wig installation is key to maintaining a seamless look.

Use wig caps, clips, or bands to secure the wig firmly in place. A snug fit will ensure that the wig doesn't shift or move throughout the day. Choose wigs with adjustable straps or combs for a more customized fit. A wig that fits your head shape will look more natural and feel more secure. Additionally, if you’re wearing your wig for a long period, take breaks from time to time. Remove the wig carefully to avoid damaging the fibers, and always store it properly to maintain its shape and integrity.

Maintain Regular Care for Long-Term Realism Lastly, to keep your wig looking natural for a long time, it should be cleaned, conditioned, and styled regularly. Maintenance is important to allow your wig to remain as fresh and realistic as possible. Whether it's a synthetic or human hair wig, proper care will make the hair last longer. During its lifespan, it preserves texture, color, and shape.

If you’re wearing glossy hair bundles or extensions in your wig, remember that they may need additional care due to their length and texture. Regular conditioning, detangling, and avoiding excessive heat styling will keep your extensions looking their best.

Conclusion

Making your wig look natural isn’t about just choosing the right color or length—it’s about taking the time to blend, style, and maintain your wig to achieve a seamless look. Whether it's glossy hair bundles, trimming of your wig to fit your face, or perfecting the hairline with a lace front, every detail counts. From these tips, you'll be able to create a realistic, flattering style that feels just like your own hair. With proper techniques and a little TLC, your wig will look natural, beautiful, and utterly convincing.

[shadowandcurls]

The Bridal Hair Artist: Unlocking the Perfect Wedding Day Look

When it comes to a bride's wedding day, every detail counts, and the hair is no exception. The right hairstyle can elevate a bride's overall look, accentuating her features, and completing her vision of the perfect day. Enter the bridal hair artist, a skilled professional who specializes in creating stunning hairstyles tailored to the bride's unique style and personality. In this article, we will explore the invaluable role of a bridal hair artist and how they contribute to making the bride feel confident, beautiful, and ready to walk down the aisle.

Expertise and Creativity: A bridal hair artist possesses the knowledge, skill, and creativity to transform a bride's hair into a work of art. Through years of experience and training, they have mastered a wide range of hairstyling techniques and trends. They stay updated with the latest bridal hair trends, ensuring that the bride receives a hairstyle that is both timeless and contemporary. Whether the bride desires an elegant updo, romantic curls, a chic braid, or a sophisticated half-up, half-down style, the bridal hair artist has the expertise to bring her vision to life.

Personalized Consultations: A bridal hair artist understands that every bride is unique, with her own individual style and preferences. They offer personalized consultations to understand the bride's vision, dress style, facial features, and overall wedding theme. This collaboration allows the hair artist to suggest the most flattering and complementary hairstyles, considering the bride's hair texture, length, and desired level of intricacy. By tailoring the hairstyle to the bride's specific needs, the bridal hair artist ensures that she feels confident and radiant on her special day.

Trial Runs for Perfection: To eliminate any last-minute surprises or stress, most bridal hair artists offer trial runs before the wedding day. This provides an opportunity for the bride to test out different hairstyles, experiment with accessories, and make any necessary adjustments. The trial run allows the bride and the hair artist to establish clear communication, ensuring that both parties are on the same page regarding the desired look. It also gives the bride peace of mind, knowing exactly how her hair will look on her wedding day.

Expert Techniques for Longevity: Wedding days are filled with joy, emotion, and lots of activity. A skilled bridal hair artist uses techniques and products to ensure that the hairstyle withstands the demands of the day. From securing the hairstyle with strong hold products to using professional-grade tools, the hair artist ensures that the hair remains intact and fresh throughout the ceremony, reception, and all the special moments in between. Their expertise guarantees that the bride's hair looks flawless from the moment she walks down the aisle until the final dance.

A Calm and Supportive Presence: Wedding days can be filled with nerves and excitement. A bridal hair artist not only creates stunning hairstyles but also provides a calming presence during the preparations. They understand the significance of the day and the emotions involved, and they strive to create a relaxed and enjoyable environment for the bride. Their professionalism and supportive nature help alleviate any stress, allowing the bride to fully enjoy the moments leading up to her wedding.

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[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Prodigy Path (S.R.)

Summary: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style. Request: Spencer and reader are parents and they realize their young child is a genius like Reid and Reid refuses to put them on the same genius path he was put on as a kid because he doesn't want them to deal with what he had to deal with as a child prodigy Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Domestic Comfort/Fluff Content Warning: SpEd, education, teachers, arguing, crying Word Count: 4k

MASTERLIST

My husband has many tells. His emotions are clearly displayed in every inch of his existence if you care enough to look, even for someone average like me. Which is why I knew before we even made it into the classroom that he was nervous. With bouncing legs and fingers cracking as he pushed curled fists against his jaw to try and hide the way his lip quivered with unspoken thoughts.

There was nothing I could say to make an elementary school a more comfortable place for him. They were nothing but a constant reminder of a childhood filled with teachers, therapists, lawyers, and doctors. A collection of professionals with one shared goal of using a little boy to achieve whatever they needed to. All justified with the belief that later, he would understand. He would be grateful.

But that wasn’t how it happened. If any of them had checked in on the boy genius after he stopped being ‘useful’, maybe they would have figured it out.

“Are you alright, Spencer?”

I already knew the answer. I also knew he would lie. Just a harmless little nod of his head to maintain whatever calming effects he could from the blatant attempts at self-soothing. He was already used to having to stock up on good feelings as much as he could, acutely aware of how important it was to rid himself of any sign of discomfort or anything even slightly resembling the word ‘no’ before the teacher came.

Which is exactly what happened. When our names were called, his back straightened and his hands, still balled in fists, fell like heavy rocks to his side. Everything about him when we finally made our way to the two small chairs in the teacher’s office felt cold and clinical. Nothing like the lively, bubbly man I knew.

I understood why, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. The poor woman on the other side of the desk wouldn’t get it, though. All she saw was an arrogant man who thought himself too good for a place like this.

If only people could see what I did. I think they would be kinder when they looked at him.

“Well, Dr. and Mrs. Reid, it should come as no surprise to you that your daughter performed exceptionally on the competency tests that we gave her as part of her IEP. She’s very bright,” she started.

A bad start.  

“She’s good at tests,” Spencer corrected with finality.

The teacher wasn’t going to argue, although I got the feeling she missed the importance of the distinction. That competency, ‘brightness,’ and performance were all very different things.

“Very much so,” she laughed. The kind of laugh that hides a deep discomfort. It wasn’t entirely her fault; talking to Spencer when he was like this was very much like arguing with a brick wall that somehow still outsmarted you.

“Her… ability to perform well is actually why I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of switching her to a more advanced classro—”

Spencer cut in swiftly, once again with a steel jaw and biting sound, “We’d have to ask her.”

“Of course, her opinion is very important but—”

“It is the only thing that matters to me.”

From the unintentional sidelines, I watched the exchange like one might watch a collision from the passenger seat. Perhaps it might be possible to grab the steering wheel, to try and prevent what I thought was coming. But that came with different risks; of overcorrecting him past the point of self-preservation. We would still crash, and he would also know that I didn’t trust him to fix the problem himself.

“I find that a lot of kids don’t really understand the long term consequences of a decision like this,” the teacher explained, folding her fingers together tightly. As her knuckles blanched, I felt the tension that I knew would form in Spencer’s gut at the implication that he hadn’t thought of any of her concerns first. As if he hadn’t thought of them 30 years ago. As if he hadn’t lived through the decision being made for him.

“Well, I do,” he said, trying and failing to control the tilt in his voice from turning to outright hostility, “I know what the consequences are, and I also know my daughter, and I know that she’s smart enough to figure it out for herself.”

Then it happened. The thing I was waiting for.

The woman turned to me, the other one in the room like her. Not a genius, Agent, or doctor. Just a plain, average Jane.

“What do you think, Mrs. Reid?”

But I couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. She didn’t know him like I did.

“I think my husband knows these things better than me,” I laughed, nervous and cautious before I added, “And I trust my daughter.”

Her face fell when she reached the conclusion she ought to have expected. I would be no more help to her than the useless sheet of statistics in front of her, urging her to convince us to acknowledge that our daughter could accomplish more if only we would let her.

I felt her compassion, but all that Spencer would hear was the condescension that certainly did exist underneath it all.

“She’s only seven.”

“Ted Kaczynski was eleven when his family allowed him to skip a grade, which he later described as one of the pivotal moments in his life that led to him becoming a domestic terrorist.”

The tension in the room was so thick that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And if the increasing force behind every breath in Spencer’s chest was any indication, he was suffocating all the same.

“I’m sure that you wouldn’t allow that to happen to your child. You skipped several grades to my knowledge, and you turned out to be very accomplished,” she offered with a hand outstretched and shaking under the weight of the vitriol Spencer was spewing into the room.

It wasn’t her fault, but we couldn’t explain it to her. Not when Spencer was too scared to even raise a hand while he spoke. Too paralyzed in perfect, acceptable posture and hidden twitches of his fingers.

“Accomplished isn’t an objective test determined by IQ points or degrees. The only kind of accomplishment I want for my daughter is the ability to make decisions for herself,” he said, his voice growing louder and cracking between strained cords, “To choose her own path and future, and to never let anyone tell her what she has to be just because it would benefit them.”

Once again, the room fell silent. I watched as the teacher slowly removed the shocked, disturbed expression from her face and replace it with the more appropriate sympathy. Unfortunately, my husband also has a tendency to cling to whatever he perceives as the more genuine truth.

Worded slightly differently: my husband holds onto grudges for dear life.

“Dr. Reid, I don’t mean to offend you. I just want you to understand she is capable of more than this—”

It was the end of the line. I’d chosen not to grab the steering wheel, and I could see now that it had been a mistake. I’d missed the way he was struggling to maintain control on his own and now it was too late. By the time he stood up from his chair, he was too far away for me to grab hold of his hand and rub soothing circles to bring him back. He was already on his way out, readjusting his suit jacket that must have felt similar to restraints from his past.

“Then I’m sure that she is better equipped to make the decision for herself than you are.”

The door shut, not slammed, but just enough to make his absence known. Two shaky breaths were released at once, and the two of us left behind in the wake of his anxiety exchanged a knowing set of silent glances.

“My daughter is very bright,” I finally said, hoping to explain my husband’s good heart in only a few words. Unfortunately, there was no way to do that. So, instead, I drummed up all the courage I could and added, “But so is my husband.”

“I never implied anything different.”

She hadn’t, but she had. In her own way, she’d questioned the only one of us who truly understood what it was like to be so stunningly different. Odd enough that it sometimes felt like they were the only two people on Earth like them. And while our daughter had her father, Spencer wasn’t so lucky.

He had been alone for as long as he could remember, which was a terribly long time.

“The things we experience in elementary school stay with us. Being a kid means that you have no power. Everything is decided for you,” I tried. The words didn’t sound right. But I kept going, wishing more than anything to have the same proficiency at language in this moment, even though I knew she still wouldn’t have understood me then.

“My daughter may get to pick skirts or slacks, but no matter what she chooses, they still have to be khaki or navy.”

“I don’t think this is about uniforms, Mrs. Reid.”

“Because it’s not,” I agreed. And unlike Spencer, my hands were free to move and collapse tired over my heart. Hopefully, it served as a visual representation of how intensely I felt and believed the words that followed.

“I’m not as smart as my husband or my daughter. I won’t ever be able to understand what it’s like to be both the youngest and smartest person in the room, but I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

Again, I felt the empathy she tried to project. I understood it because her and I spoke the same language. She could look at me and know that I only wanted what was best for my family without requiring the extra steps that were required to understand my husband.

“The children here are very used to prodigies,” she posited sincerely, trying to rebuild a bridge that had already started to burn, “It’s not like public school. It wouldn’t be like it was with him.”

But that was precisely the problem. This was just another unknown, one which we’ve only seen result in negative outcomes. If it had been mine or Spencer’s life on the line, we might have taken the chance. But it wasn’t about us.

“I don’t care if the chance is minuscule that she’ll be hurt by this decision, because there is still a risk there. And if I put her in that position even though she didn’t want to, I would hate myself for it.”

I could sense the judgment before she spoke. That didn’t stop her from saying it, though.

“You can’t shelter her from the world.”

As my blood began to boil, I looked at the space that stretched between us. I stared at the bridge embroiled in flames and realized that Spencer was right to light the fire. Because the truth was that she wasn’t giving us any new information. She had simply chosen to prioritize the potential of a child over the life that already existed in front of her.

And no matter how hard anyone tried, we just weren’t willing to do that to our daughter.

“You’re right,” I laughed, because I really found it funny how easy the answer seemed, “But I can let her choose for herself and support her choices even when they hurt me. Being smart shouldn’t be a death sentence for a normal childhood.”

“She won’t ever have a normal childhood.”

But what was normal, anyway? Was it something I even wanted my daughter to have? If it meant blindly following the path laid out for her by test results and authority figures, I wasn’t so sure. Above all, I just wanted her to be happy. The way that Spencer was never allowed to be. So I also stood from my chair with feet desperate to find him, and a relieved smile that accompanied the light feeling in my heart. I took a deep breath as I looked at the telltale symbols of childhood that didn’t fill me with fear or anxiety.

“Well, I’m willing to let her try,” I said quietly but confidently, “I think she can figure it out.”

The trip to the car felt so far knowing that Spencer was there alone. I tried to step faster, eventually just breaking out into a strange half-jog regardless of the odd stares. It didn’t matter to me what anyone else thought about our strange, imperfect family. Because I knew that as soon as we had our hands together, everything would be okay.

But things weren’t okay when I found him. He was slumped over the dash of the passenger seat, his suit jacket scrunched over his shoulders because he was too tired to even bother taking it off despite the discomfort. I heard the rage behind the nearly silent sniffles, and as soon as he heard the door shut for the last time, he didn’t hold back the words any longer.

“They really expected us to make that decision without even asking her?” he spat, clenching his teeth any time he was given the chance.

“I know,” I whispered back with a hand on his shoulder. I felt the tension start to fade away the longer the warmth sunk through the fabric. But then it was too much, and he shot up from his spot with arms that had come back to life after being held down for too long.  

“It’s her life! She’s not just... just a tool for their rankings or a trophy for their wall!”

Tears stung at my eyes just from seeing the red lining his, and I wondered how much he’d feared this day. How long he had seen it coming and held back concerns because he wasn’t entirely sure what it would mean for all of us. But he’d miscalculated. He’d underestimated just how much it would hurt to see the same thing he’d experienced happening to someone he loved. That fury, that despair and desperation, exploded from him like gas thrown on a fire. “She’s a person! She’s my little girl!”

It was no surprise to me when the tears started to flow again. Spencer didn’t even try to hide behind his hands. They were too busy finding me and holding on with hands gripped tight with the soft fabric of my skirt. The one place that he knew he would be safe and understood no matter the barriers that might exist.

“I know that you just want the best for her,” I reassured him. My hands ran through his unruly hair that reminded me of our daughter’s to an uncanny degree. And it accomplished the same thing, too. Within a few minutes or necessary catharsis, Spencer was able to steady his breathing well enough to shift into a more comfortable position with his head against my shoulder.

“They don’t know what it’s like. To be just one thing. Every failure, every mistake… They seem like the end of the world when the stakes are so high,” he mumbled, “They become the only thing that matters. All that you are.”  

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me,” I laughed. Cupping his face in my hands, I forced him to look at me to see how much I meant it when I replied, “I already know that you are a wonderful father.”

Then, in a weak attempt to prevent the tears that were already forming in his eyes, I pressed a hard kiss against his forehead.

“Let’s go see her. I’m sure she’ll have something to say about it.”

And Spencer laughed, too. A relieved, joyous sound that signaled an end to the spiral. When he sat back up, I took the time to help him remove his jacket unbutton the top few in the hope that it would help him understand that he was returning to the one place he would never have to be anything other than himself.

I think it worked, too, because by the time we made it home, the only evidence of the meltdown was irritated, tired eyes. Thankfully, our daughter was too happy to see us back to make any mention of them.

“Dad!” she shrieked, standing in her seat on the sofa and nearly toppling over the furniture to get to him faster.

“Hey!”

“You’ll never guess what I made while you were gone!”

“What is it?” he shouted back before scooping her up into his arms and hugging her just discretely enough that she wouldn’t notice how badly he needed it.

“A computer!” she continued, now waving an excited hand for me to approach, too. But Spencer stole her attention away again, with shocked gasps and an equally squeaky voice, “You made a computer?”

“It just counts numbers and does some very rudimentary formulas... for now,” she muttered with a mischievous sound that we would both ignore (for now), “But it’s really cool! Come look!”

So there we sat, as a full family tracking piles of redstone dust and switches flow across blocks on the screen. But every time our eyes got tired of the blue light, we would look just a few feet to the right to watch her bounce in excitement with a controller in her hand.

Eventually, watching wasn’t enough, and Spencer crawled onto the floor so he could pull her into his lap. She melted into his embrace like she always did, haphazardly and with a familiarity that almost made me jealous of their relationship. But then I would realize just how lucky I was to have them both in my life.

After she had settled back into the game, Spencer started to speak, slowly and with an astounding amount of vulnerability.

“Hey, how do you feel about the idea of you skipping forward a couple grades?”

“You mean… Like leaving my friends?” she asked without ever taking her eyes off the screen.

“Yeah, you’d be with older kids.”

She paused, taking a few seconds to consider the idea. Although I couldn’t see her face, I knew exactly the expression she made as she squeaked, “Eh.”

“What’s ‘eh’ mean?” Spencer returned with an amused chuckle.

“Wouldn’t I be just as bored in fifth grade as I am in third?”

“Yeah, probably after a few weeks.”

Her little feet kicked the air as her whole body squirmed, obviously bothered by the topic but also knowing she would have to answer. With a very familiar sounding sigh, she continued, “And what about in a couple years? Will you let me date older people? They’ll be my peers.”

“A couple years?” her father responded with an ever-rising pitch, “Can’t you put that off until a little bit later?”

She did not relent.

“The heart wants what the heart wants, Dad.”

Spencer blew air from shaky lips that showed an enormous amount of restraint. “Within reason,” he warned.

That tone was always enough to make her laugh, which she did. But once that sound faded, she set the controller down on the floor and turned her full attention back to him before muttering, “I don’t know… It sounds like a lot. Older kids kind of scare me.”

“It’s not that bad. You get used to it. I’m sure you’d find friends. You’re very likable.”

“You’re my dad. You have to say that.”

“I don’t have to,” he corrected with a gentle poke of her nose, “I just want to because it’s true.”

But there was still so much on such small shoulders. It was as obvious as the way her legs started bouncing just like his did when he was nervous. Even as Spencer tried to play with her hair or do anything that he could think to distract her from the nerves, her voice was shaking as she worked up the courage to finally answer, “No offense dad, I know you did the whole skipping grades thing but… It kind of sounds awful.”

I watched from my seat on the couch as Spencer’s smile stretched steadily over his cheeks. “I’m not offended at all,” he whispered, and I wondered if she could hear just how true it was. I wondered if she could feel the relief that washed over him with an answer as simple as ‘No thank you.’ But then she spoke again, reminding us just how much she valued our opinion.

“I think I’d rather stay with kids my own age. At least for now.” Turning to look at me before scared eyes glanced up at her dad, she bit her cheeks one more time before muttering, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” Spencer whispered back.

“Thanks. I was scared when my teacher brought it up.”

“It’s your life,” he insisted with both hands holding her cheeks the same way we always did, “You get to decide what you want to do with it.”

And while it would take a while longer to decide what the real answer to that question would be, the immediate answer was obvious. She threw her arms around him just he had done to me, affirming my theory that as long as we had each other, everything else would be okay.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too,” he mumbled back into tiny brown curls before he let her go once more. But she stayed, burrowed in his lap while she resumed her game like the whole thing hadn’t happened. I think Spencer preferred it that way.

It didn’t take long for us to all get tired from the exhausting emotions, and within an hour we had all settled into bed. I’d almost forgotten about the conversation entirely before I noticed the way Spencer still flipped anxiously back and forth in our bed. I waited a little bit longer to turn off the light, opting to just wait for him to turn to me and explain what had him so worried.

The next time his eyes met mine, he let out a dramatic whine with the words, “A couple of years? She’s seven!”

I snorted at how he had latched onto the most trivial aspect of the night, making the executive decision to torment him just a little bit longer. “I’m pretty sure she already has her eye on a few candidates, you know.”

“I didn’t even notice romantic attraction until I was like… thirteen!” he blurted out. It was too funny not to keep laughing, repeating the eloquent way our daughter had asserted herself before.

“The heart wants what the heart wants, Spencer.”

“Well my heart wants to go to sleep, along with the rest of me,” he scoffed, flipping away from me for a minute out of his own stubbornness. Trying to avoid the inevitable. But when I flipped the light off, I heard him whisper again, “Couple of years… that child will be the death of me.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

Looking for more Dad Spencer fics? Find my rec list here!

[godzillin]

no one asked for this and I’m sure none of my followers care but here’s my opinions on the AWL remake character designs that that been revealed so far

First of all. I’m so fucking pumped for it.

I’ve never played AWL but I played the shit out of HMDS and HMDS cute so I love the Forget-Me-Not Valley folks. HMDS was actually my first harvest moon game so I have a lot of nostalgia for the setting and characters. It’s been too long since we’ve seen them and I’m so happy they’re back.

Okay. Here we go.

Nina

She looks the same! She’s so cute as always. I love Nina, her design is literally perfect I would not change a thing, peak character design right here. 10/10

Vesta

Her apron is gone! And she’s wearing a vest! Maybe I’m biased because I LOVE vesta, but I think she looks great. I do think it’s interesting they yass-ified cody, but Vesta didn’t get the same treatment. Not that it’s a bad thing, in fact I’d prefer it if Cody kept his old design. But it goes to show that strong, masculine characters do fit with the new Story of Seasons art style, so I’m not sure why Cody’s a twink now. More on him later though. 10/10

Chris

PANTS! While I do miss her pencil skirt, the pantsuit is cute. I love her tie. Chris reminds me a lot of my mom (they even have the same name) and she dresses just like her. Which is weird because they have totally different jobs. iirc, chris is a sports reporter/commentator which I think she conveys a lot more in the new design than the old one. She looks more athletic while still looking very professional. Her old design was more like a secretary or office worker or teacher. 10/10

Wally

HE’S WEARING SOME TIGHT ASS PANTS. And for what? I mean, they’re probably more practical to run in, but geez it’s funny to me. He’s rocking them though, can’t complain. 9/10

Hugh

Okay, this is the first design choice so far I take issue with. He’s wearing the same clothes as his old design, but something is off. Hugh was a lot chubbier in his older design. I miss his baby fat :( it was cute! And it also gave him a little bit more character, almost like he’s working out all the time to get slim like his dad. I miss his clumsy, dopey look. 6/10

Galen

This is another one I have a problem with. He looks exactly the same, which is fine. But they toned down cartoonish aspects of all the other characters (Marlin’s hunch, Gustafa’a nose) and didn’t do this with Galen. He looks extremely out of place. I think the best choice with him would be to give him a more realistic head shape and nose, just so he could fit in standing next to everyone else. He seriously looks like he walked out of a completely different video game. This wasn’t a problem in the original since everyone else looked super stylized then, too, but now he sticks out like a sore thumb. 4/10

Mukumuku

They gave him a bow :) I love it, literally perfect. He is an angel, I’m obsessed. I love his cute little bow. 11/10

Marlin

I like Marlin’s redesign! I always thought the Elvis look was charming, and Marlin was my bachelor of choice in HMDS cute because I thought he was so handsome. I like that they kept his grumpy resting face and his weirdly shaped eyebrows. I also like that he’s still got a hunch, but it’s less stylized and more realistic now. He looks more put together now, which I like, while still looking like he could be a farmer. My only complaint (and it’s a pretty big one) is… WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS CURLY HAIR. Why did they do him like that? I loved his curls!!! And now it’s brown instead of black?? That’s so weird to me. Mainly though it’s the curls. I miss his curls. Give him his curls back. Please, god. 7/10

Muffy

Muffy looks the same, except for some minor detailing on her dress. I always thought her original design kinda looked like she was wearing lingerie, LMFAO. I mean look at it, that’s a slip from Victoria’s Secret.

The new dress is a welcome change, and the cardigan she’s wearing looks more comfortable. I really REALLY like her new design. Muffy was my bachelorette of choice in HMDS, so again, maybe I’m biased. 10/10

Lumina

Well, she definitely looks older and more age appropriate. I do think it’s interesting they went with her child design as her initial look rather than her dress. If it was my choice, I would have started her in her dress and completely gotten rid of the school-uniform-looking outfit she starts the game in. It’s just a weird decision to me, but like I said, she still looks older now. 9/10

Nami

I’m gay. I love women. That’s all.

Okay but for real I’m so glad they got rid of her vest. It was SO UGLY, I hated it so much. She is so cute in the redesign. I think she looks so much better now. 11/10

Rock

I really like Rock’s redesign! The new art style really suits him. He didn’t change much clothing-wise (though I do like that his pants come in at the legs now) but I think he looks so much better with more realistic body proportions. I love it! Wouldn’t change a thing. 10/10

Gustafa

I… REALLY LIKE IT. I know I’m in the minority here but I LOVE his redesign. He is so cute. I think a lot of people dislike it because he looks so different in this art style, but really, his key features are the same. He’s wearing the same clothes, has the same hair, same face, etc. The only thing that’s really MISSING is his beard, witch hat, and his giant nose. He still has a pretty big nose, but now it’s, like, actually human sized. I can understand getting upset that he’s missing his beard, but I think he looks charming with stubble. Also, I like his bucket hat a lot. Honestly I love this redesign so much, I think it’s my favorite. If you ask me, this is how you redesign a character. 14/10

Cody

CODY NO, WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU? CODY PLEASE.

-148839294858929284/10

Then there’s the name changes. To put it bluntly, I don’t give a fuck. Molly or Muffy, Matthew or Marlin, they’re still the same characters. Like who cares, man? I only mention this because I’ve been seeing so many people complaining about it.

I wanna write more about my thoughts on the game but I gotta go to bed LMFAO ok goodnight

[soulmate-game]

part 2 (of that new bio!dad fic)

Dick whipped his head over to Bruce, who could feel the heavy gazes of all his children as if they were physical. If they had had heat vision like Clark, he would have already been reduced to a puddle of mush. Bruce shifted, the only sign of his discomfort, but he recognized that the middle of a gala was no place for this discussion. There were too many busybodies trying to listen in for the latest gossip. So he plastered on a smile that he couldn’t quite feel, and held a hand out to Marinette. He was careful to keep a good distance though, and left the choice for contant purely up to her.

The young woman looked down at his hand, then back to his face. Damian had been shocked silent by what she had to say, and perhaps even more by the all too telling way that Bruce hadn’t so much as implied that she was lying, and the look he was giving her was making her a little uncomfortable. Yes, she hadn’t planned on interacting with her father more than just the years-overdue confrontation she had just done, at least not while at the gala… but her plans always left room for improvisation. She could make this work.

With a soft sigh, Marinette extended her own hand— half the size of Bruce’s, he noted almost immediately with a rush of illogical fondness— and grasped his lightly. She couldn’t help but notice the way his impossibly blue eyes brightened, no different than her own when she was particularly happy, or the way his mouth twitched with a barely suppressed beam. Instead, he controlled himself enough so that the only smile he gave would look professional and entirely in character to the nosy socialites still spying on them, and led them out onto the dance floor.

What everyone else saw was the unfairly charming Bruce Wayne giving his young guest of honor a simple dance. Just a basic swirl around the floor that every other social elite had learned when they were five. Clearly he was taking it easy on the self-made girl, who probably didn’t have experience with such dances. Humoring the accomplished young woman with his approval for a moment before he would slink back to his family or patrol the crowds and make the necessary greetings and meaningless chatter.

What his family saw was Bruce taking time to slow his steps, not for Marinette to keep up but rather to prolong the event. What they saw was the grace in Marinette’s steps as she never once faltered, and that Bruce was careful to take his cues from her instead of the other way around. He only led the dance in technicality, Marinette had all the real control.

What they saw was a father’s first dance with his daughter.

“Eighteen,” Dick whispered, eyebrows drawn low. “She said she’s almost eighteen.”

“Well, that lines up doesn’t it?” Jason asked gruffly, his own gaze never leaving the dancing duo. “We were planning on doubling up your big thirtieth birthday party as your eighteenth adoption anniversary,” he reminded his brother, who just made a slightly distressed noise in the back of his throat. Whether it was at the reinforcement of his adoption coming only months after Marinette being put up for adoption, or the fact that he was turning thirty, nobody could really tell.

“Hurt,” Cassandra spoke up from behind them, looking incredibly concerned as she watched the dance. “Uncertain.”

Stephany rolled her eyes, fidgeting from her quickly building energy. Anger was making her restless. “Of course she’s hurt. Bruce replaced her, with a boy he knew virtually nothing about, not even that long after she was born. How do you think that made her feel, when she found out?” Stephany let out a little growl, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server and downing it in one gulp. She ignored Dick protesting that she wasn’t of age yet, which made her wrinkle her nose. “Only one more year, Dickhead. Get over it, I need the buzz.”

“Well,” Barbara sighed and maneuvered her wheelchair around the group so that everyone could see her. “Nothing we can do right now but be supportive and watch Bruce like a hawk so he doesn’t make this worse,” she stated easily, not looking even the least bit ruffled by the news despite the disturbed glitter in her eyes.

“... Guys,” Tim spoke up, not looking at any of them. “Who wants to volunteer for Damian duty?” At first glance, it might seem like Tim was thinking about his own first disastrous meeting with the younger boy. Once everyone paid attention though, they could see that the truth was that Damian had snuck away and Tim was pointedly looking at a slightly hidden-away staircase to the second floor.

“Shit,” Dick muttered, but before he could say another word Jason shoved him back and started towards the stairs.

“No, not this time Dicky. I’ll talk to the brat.”

Back on the dancefloor, Bruce and Marinette broke away without any fanfare at the end of the song. If Bruce tried to hold her eyes for a moment too long, nobody noticed besides his observant children, and two of Marinette’s protective friends.

Then, just to make sure that nobody caught on with the help of hindsight, Bruce said something vaguely polite and praising, which Marinette accepted with flawless, distant poise. And they went back to their own groups, Bruce quickly noting that two of his sons were missing. He raised an eyebrow, about to ask why when a presence behind him caught his attention. Unlike Marinette and Chloe, this newcomer was not at all trying to hide their approach or be sneaky about it, even though Bruce couldn’t hear any footsteps that were close enough to belong to the mysterious entity. Closing his mouth, Bruce turned around only to be greeted by yet another vaguely familiar face. Bright green eyes bore into his, unreadable.

“Mister Wayne,” the newcomer greeted, voice warm but stiff. If the Waynes hadn’t all had years of recognizing when a person was only pretending to be cordial, they never would have suspected that the boy was anything but pure-heartedly happy to be there. But they did have that experience, and thus they instantly honed in on the very well-hidden fact that he had a bone to pick with them. Or, more probably, with Bruce.

He cut an impressive figure, for all that he was lithe muscle instead of bulk. Hair that was lighter than Chloe’s, less like cloth-of-gold and more like sunlight glinting off of wheatfields. It somehow hung in gravity-defying tufts, yet perfectly arranged to evoke a calming aesthetic. Like the fluff of a long-haired cat, almost, and it looked just as fluffy and hypnotizing. It contrasted with his emerald eyes, impossibly vibrant in their gleam. And the suit he wore was decidedly top-notch, much like the other two they had met from his class. He was daring, in a dark silver suit that slightly shifted in the light, green accents that matched his eyes standing out strikingly against the collars and trim, and coiling in tantalizing swirls at the cuffs. The lining of the suit jacket was done in a dark green that could almost pass for black in the right lighting, adding a layer of both drama and mystery as it peeked out at the back of his collar, the insides of his sleeves if he moved just the right way, at the bottom hem of the jacket when he turned or bent just so. And with his notoriety in the modeling world? He always knew exactly how to move or place himself to get the reactions he wanted. And he was clearly showing off the craftsmanship of his suit just then as he faked adjusting his cufflinks and lifted his head just the right amount to both look challenging and let the dark green on the back of his collar flash in the light in such a way that Bruce and those nearest him wouldn’t be able to miss the brief reveal of color.

“Adrien Agreste,” Bruce greeted back, eyebrows pulling down in slight confusion. Normally the topic of clothing was far from his genuine interest, but in this particular case it was an intriguing, and possibly even concerning, observation. So he said next; “That suit is not of your father’s usual style of design.”

Adrien scoffed, straightening out his suit’s jacket and making the obsidian buttons glint. “Of course not. I’ve started my rebellious phase— or, well, I finally started being blatant enough about it that my father noticed anyway,” the way his lips curled was decidedly not very attractive, but painted a vivid picture of a son who despised the way he was treated. Adrien quickly wiped the distasteful expression away and replaced it with a camera-ready smile. “I’m wearing one of Marinette’s designs, much to his chagrin. She insisted on making this for me as soon as she heard that my father was planning on sending me in a white suit.”

Bruce quickly caught on, and sighed. How long would the gala go on for, again? He didn’t remember what time it was anymore. “Your friend Chloe already got a pretty clear warning in. I suppose you know as well?”

Adrien’s grin darkened with mischief, and he nodded all too happily. “Of course! Marinette told me almost as soon as she found out, a few years ago. You see, we had to put down a very solid rule about secrets between the two of us. She has a bad habit of trying to shoulder the entire world’s problems and not tell anyone about it, if you don’t pay close enough attention,” his voice was deceptively light but his eyes were hard, warning. “And let’s just say, I have a lot of experience with bad father figures. I can recognize them a mile away by now. The signs of neglect, of apathy,” his eyes suddenly lightened when he saw how Bruce’s throat visibly caught, how the man didn’t seem to realize he had stopped breathing. Maybe he was being a little to mean, Adrien thought. So he let the dark slip out of his eyes, and his smile turned more genuine. “You don’t have those signs. You looked at Marinette like you were both the happiest and most miserable man in the world at the same time. But you can’t change what you did to her, Mister Wayne. If you want some advice from Marinette’s oldest friend?” Adrien held out a closed fist.

Bruce took a second to realize what was happening, too busy trying to recover from his situational whiplash and wave of relief. Once he caught back up to the present, however, he held out his open palm and let Adrien drop something into his hand.

To his shock, it was a pen, engraved with the name he recognized as Marinette’s biological mother. He also recognized it as a popular model of pen-knife. He raised his eyes to Adrien, who winked.

“Marinette doesn’t know I had this made. And she has a lot of tricks that might surprise you, but what she wants more than anything is stability. If you try to give her that, show that you care and you want her safe— and then prove that you’re gonna stay— then maybe you can repair the damage you’ve done. It won’t be easy though, Mari is the single most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And I grew up with Chloe.”

Bruce closed his hand around the pen, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but Adrien’s faith in him and his help… somehow felt significant. He nodded to the young model.

“Not to worry, I have experience with stubborn,” he glanced back at his other kids with a small smirk. None of them were the least bit repentant. “And I do want to stay. Thank you for the advice.”

Adrien shrugged. “Don’t thank me. If you hurt her again, you’ll never see my revenge coming. It can be rather… catastrophic,” with that ominous threat, Adrien bowed dramatically and turned to leave and do some rounds charming the elites. Bruce tucked the pen in one of his hidden pockets, but stayed silent after that. He had a lot to mull over.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out over the gardens behind the gala’s venue. He was glaring at nothing, and his hands trembled from where they gripped the rail. It was five minutes, a little longer than he had expected but not that odd considering everyone’s distraction over Marinette, before he heard the glass doors behind him creak open.

“Yo,” Jason greeted, knowing it was better not to catch the boy off guard. None of them were good with surprises anymore, for good reason. It was always best to announce their presence before they made someone react violently on accident. Damian’s shoulders relaxed a little— not a lot, but enough for Jason to notice. The older man sighed, walking up and leaning on the rail next to his little brother. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“That could have been me,” he almost instantly blurted. It was still hard talking about his feelings, but certain things were easier with Todd. This was, apparently, one of them. “If Mother hadn’t kept me a secret.”

“I don’t think so,” Jason disagreed, shrugging. “There are several big differences here. For one, Marinette was born three years before you were. By the time you were born, he already had Dick and he would have only been a year, max, away from taking me in. Which means he already had built up his problem with taking in kids, and nothing would have gotten him to give up a chance at raising you. With or without Batman getting in the way.”

“But then why—” Damian growled. “Why did he give her up?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Jason remarked bluntly. “You know how he is. He didn’t have a kid at the time. Hell, Bruce would have only been twenty-two back then. He only adopted Dick on impulse because Dick reminded him of himself, but before all of that shit? He probably made a million excuses about not being able to raise a baby and be Batman at the same time. About his life being too dangerous for a kid. Which, yes it is, but that clearly didn’t stop him later.”

“She’s older,” Damian muttered, this time softer.

“Yup.”

“Her mother wasn’t an assassin, probably. She designs. I hate to admit it, and you are never to repeat it to anybody, but her work that we’ve seen so far is impressive. She can clearly charm even the most stuck-up of gotham’s upper crust.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed neutrally, his eyes never leaving Damian.

“Father won’t need me. He already doesn’t have much patience—” Damian was cut off by a flick to the nose. “Hey!”

“Not my fault you’re being stupid,” Jason defended himself. “Look, B’s actually been real patient with you these past few years. I mean, when was the last time he yelled at you? Or told you that stupid ‘justice not vengeance’ line?”

Damian opened his mouth, then closed it. After another moment, he replied; “Almost two years.”

Jason nodded. “It might take him way too long, but he can still learn new tricks. Especially after that mess with Heretic, he’s been trying really hard to be better to you. He still screws up, because I think we all know by now that he’s a bigger mess than any of the rest of us and that’s an accomplishment, but he’s trying. He doesn’t keep you around because he needs you. He’s got plenty of us around if all he wanted was soldiers— though none of us would stick around if we thought that’s all he wanted.”

Damian flexed his jaw. He was still the most violent of the kids, besides Jason. He saw Bruce rubbing his forehead or pinching his nose far too often at some of his decisions or comments. He was stubborn, impatient, reckless.

But hadn’t Bruce himself told him on several occasions that he wasn’t trying to make him a perfect soldier? Hadn’t Bruce himself said that he just wanted Damian to grow into himself?

It was just really hard to swat away those stupid voices in Damian’s head. Voices of the past, mostly, old dialogue he had never actually forgotten. That he merely pretended had never affected him. The “you’re too violent”s, the “that’s not how we behave, Damian”s. All the old lectures, the old fights. They echoed like stupid little gremlins of doubt.

“...Marinette has his eyes.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like that,” Jason’s voice was soft, but gruff at the same time as he cuffed Damian over the head. “You didn’t choose to be born, idiot. And despite being a little demon, none of us would reverse it, You’ve saved all our skins at least once. And besides,” he nudged Damian a little with a grin. “You’re not half bad, nowadays.”

Damian chuckled. “That makes one of us.”

“Hey!”

@peterxwade24 @mizzy-pop @maskedpainter @ladybug-182 @khneltea @itsmeevie01 @fusser90 @woe-is-me0 @lolieg @moonlightstar64 @jayjayspixiepop

[byuntrash101]

PARAPHILIA - Part 7

Pairing: Dom!Baekhyun x You; Boss!Baekhyun x You; CEO!Baekhyun x You

Genre: smutttttt

Tags: cuckolding, cheating, NTR, cum play, dirty talk, name calling (light), edging, oral (f)

Raiting: +18

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: When you are desperate for money you have no choice but to seek the help of Byun Baekhyun: your husband's rich, powerful and wicked boss.

A/N: This is the only part where OC and Baek are not a couple but keep reading it might even be better hehe. Guys this one is one of my faves of this whole series so I hope you like it toooo~ 😇😇 -Cat 😼

Tag list:  @lovebuginlove @calamell @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @nana-banana @mingiandbaconjam @chanyeolscoon

Tell me if you want to be added/removed

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

Gif credit: thristyforbaek

Paraphilia #7: Troilism, Observing one's partner engaged in sexual activities with another person

T H E A L P H A M A L E

"Come on Seokjong, we're going to be late!" you tell your husband as you precede him on the pathway towards the big mansion. Your husband pants behind you.

"I know honey but... slow down a bit, will ya?" He puffs holding his side, difficulty going up the stairs. Your husband was never one to be really fit. He was rather short, not even taller than you and also a little chubby. People often told you that you two were not a good match. Telling you how much more good looking you were compared to him. Often you had to turn down the advances of men that thought themselves to be better than Seokjong but the truth was that you loved him. You loved him exactly the way that he was. Happily married for 4 years now.

Well... That was true up until recently. Even though you try to convince yourself otherwise. Your feelings are... changing.

You ring the doorbell in front of the enormous door of the even more gigantic mansion. While your husband catches up to you.

"Please enter" the distinguished butler says. "Please get seated. Mr Byun will receive you shortly" he points towards comfortable couches placed in the entrance. You look around the now familiar place. The floor is made of black marble tiles, the walls have an elegant white wallpaper with exquisite details. The entrance is very big, so big a renaissance style statue of a woman sits in the middle, while a huge staircase is right in front you.

You know the entrance very well but not the rest of the house because apart from the hall and another room you never visited it. Even though it was your 10th visit. Only two more to go...

After a while the butler came back and signaled you to both go upstairs. You politely nodded and went on your way. You knew exactly where to go...

Last room on your right... Mr Byun's office.

"Enter!" the low voice commanded from behind the door. You pushed in the door, your heart beating loudly.

The first thing you notice is the atmosphere. The big windows that accompanied the tall walls and the high ceilings are covered by curtains. The only light source is the desk lamp placed on the elegant dark wood desk that sits in the middle of the big office. The room is grand, the atmosphere very intimate.

Mr. Byun was standing there, slightly leaning back on his desk, shuffling through some paperwork, absentmindedly playing with the collar of his white shirt.

He wore a really expensive suit, very professional looking. Navy blue with discreet golden yellow accents and of course a thin white shirt that was perfectly hugging his frame. Which made your heart stomp even harder.

Mr. Byun was exactly what every woman would desire. He was handsome, had beautiful shiny chestnut hair. A body shape to die for with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long legs. Gorgeous smooth skin, the most charming and seductive smile and of course... he was powerful.

Everything about him was, this mansion, the sports cars he drove, the way he dressed, the way he walked and even... The way he looked at you. Like right now.

He lifted his eyes from the paper, when they landed on you he took his time fully appreciating the view. He started with your shoes. You were wearing the sleek black shiny high heeled pumps he had requested for today. Then his eyes went up your legs to the slit of the red bodycon dress you paired with the shoes then to your breasts where his eyes lingered for a bit then to your collarbones then your neck then your plump red lips then finally your eyes.

Definitely you were not growing accustomed to the way he looked at you.

Seokjong also came in panting and profusely sweating. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. You rolled your eyes at him. You felt bad for that but at the same time... How could you not be mad at him? He was the reason why you were here in the first place.

Seokjong had an addiction. An addiction to gambling. For the past couple of years it has gotten worse, to a point where Seokjong lost 1 million dollars to the mob. It was a colossal amount of money that needed to be paid back right away. So of course you took two other jobs and also borrowed money from your parents but you barely could gather 80 000 dollars. It calmed down the mob for a while but after a time they started to threaten your family and loved ones.

So Seokjong turned to his boss: Byun Baekhyun. He had worked for him all his life and even for his father before he took over the company. So you both went to see him on the top floor of the big company building. Your husband got on his knees and begged him to lend him the money. He told him that he would work his whole life for it. He offered to put Mr. Byun on his will, he even offered him his parent’s farm, which was a ridiculous offer, and he knew it but he just had to take the chance in order to save your marriage, your family and even your life.

But Mr. Byun laughed at his face.

"Look at me... Look at this office. Does it look like there is anything in the world that I can't afford but you... somehow can?" his voice sounded so cold at the time.

"N-no..." Seojong said, lowering his eyes.

You remember how Mr. Byun leaned over your husband still flat on the ground and said:

"Offer me something that's unique, that only you have. Something that money can't buy and I might consider it..." with that his eyes turned to you and he looked at you for the first time like he did moments ago.

You remember how the shivers ran down your spine when his lips curled in a carnivorous smirk, how lust gradually clouded his eyes.

That time, for the first time. You let another man touch you, feel you, and look at you in places that were before only for Seokjong. Only for your husband.

That time, for the first time, at the top floor of the big highrise. You let Mr Byun Baekhyun have his way with you.

That's how you both agreed to let Mr Byun fuck you in front of your husband every month for a whole year in exchange of clearing Seokjong's depts with the mafia.

That was what you were now: Mr. Byun Baekhyun's whore.

"The door, Seokjong" Baekhyun commanded which brought you back to the present moment.

Slowly he walked up to you... Gradually you felt heat washing over you. You didn't want to admit it but there was a moment in time where you started to anticipate every time you had to come into this mansion. Of course you never told anybody, not even yourself.

Baekhyun walked behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder. You felt his warm breath brush on your ear and his body press against your back. His fingers brushed up your arm. From your wrist to your shoulder, sending goosebumps all over your body.

Already you felt a tingle build in your core. Because Baekhyun didn't even have to try to get you started. His aura and the simplest, littlest touches were well enough. But the worst part was that he wasn't content with that. Everytime he made sure to drive you crazy with desire, pushing all the right buttons to the point where you were the one begging for him.

Without even a word he slipped one of the spaghetti straps of your dress off your shoulder and started to nibble at your neck and earlobe. You knew your husband was right behind you, watching your every move so you tried your hardest not to make any noise as he planted blue and purple love bites all over you. He smirked when he noticed you were holding yourself back. Because he loved when you resisted him. The more you resisted the more gratifying it was when you finally gave in. And he knew you would... eventually you will give up yourself to him, again.

"Seokjong come here" he commanded while stepping in front of you and standing at a little distance, to be able to fully see you. Your husband shuffled to his side.

"Yes Mr Byun?" he asked looking up at him as he was a lot shorter.

"Strip her for me" he said motioning to you with his chin.

"Yes sir" Seokjong responded. He came to you and slipped off the other strap. Then with caution he slowly pulled on the thin red fabric and rolled the bodycon dress off you. First, your breasts popped out since Mr. Byun specially requested you to not wear a bra. It made him smile and lick his lips when he noticed how hard your nipples already were. Because even though you're trying to resist, your body speaks the truth.

Slowly but surely the dress was completely off you. Leaving you close to naked in your red lace thong and your shiny black pumps.

Baekhyun stayed silent for a minute while he walked around you. Admiring your breasts, your beautiful legs in the shoes he chose and even your perky ass in the minimalistic red thong.

He licked his lips again. Then walked in front of you. He slowly closed in the distance between the both of you until you felt his warm breath tickle your cheeks, his broad torso pressed against your naked chest and his bulge against your stomach. You held in your breath trying to contain the thumping of your heart.

"Seokjong come here" your husband shuffled to him. Baekhyun placed a hand on his shoulder. "There... stand... right there" he said as he placed him exactly facing the both of you only a few centimeters away.

"Pay attention" he told Seokjong, winking at him and playfully padding his shoulder.

"Yes sir" your husband answered.

"Now baby" Baekhyun brought back his attention to you. "Stick your tongue out for me"

Hesitant you slowly opened your mouth to stick out your tongue. Baekhyun glances again at Seokjong, making sure he's watching carefully. Then approaches his face to yours. Slowly he sucked on the tip of your tongue then he pushed his soft lips against yours. Embarking you on a hot kiss. His tongue swirled inside your mouth and as heat started to wash over your body you couldn't help but to look at Seokjong. He didn't lift an eyelash, he was petrified. Baekhyun deepened the kiss. His hand went up your hair, tangling his fingers in it, while the other slipped to your lower back where he pulled lightly on the waistband of the thong to let it slap against your skin. Gradually you felt his bulge harden against your stomach which made the tingly feeling even stronger.

He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath and looked at you with a satisfied smile. Stafisified because you couldn't hide anymore. Your eyes were begging him to continue as your body was too... Baekhyun felt that.

"Seokjong" Baekhyun called your husband, before sitting you on the desk and sliding off the red thong, passing it over your heels. "Look, that is what a simple kiss with me does to your wife" he said holding the little fabric in front of your husband face. You felt embarrassment creep up inside you.

The thong was drenched with juices, and you hated that. You hated how this was the truth. Your body was betraying you, craving more of his touches, longing for the moment he was going to be inside you.

Seokjong looked at the shameful result of your arousal and simply nodded.

"Lick it." Baekhyun commanded, smirking. "Taste your beloved wife's desire for my cock"

You whipped your head in the direction of your husband. He, too, looked at you before slowly bringing the red piece of fabric to his face and licking the wet spot. He closed his eyes, his eyebrows creased.

"How is it?" Baekhyun asked.

"Delicious, sir" Seokjong answered, opening his eyes. Baekhyun smirked before turning his attention to you again.

"I want to try it too" he said before crouching down and bringing his face close to your heat. You felt embarrassed. But at the same time you didn't move a muscle because you couldn't wait anymore for him to finally touch you there.

You immediately let your head fall back when you feel his warm and wet tongue on your slit. Slowly going up to your needy clit. A small whimper escapes your lips which makes Baekhyung smile against your folds. His skilled tongue paired with the teasing from earlier makes the knot in your stomach tighten. Really quickly, you feel the pleasure rising uncontrollably. But as soon as Baekhyung feels you twitch under his tongue he slows down to an unbearable pace.

You can't help but whimper desperately. He smirks again and picks up the pace, circling your swollen bud with his tongue.

This time shameless moans escape your lips, the pleasure is just too much and you can't help it. You're so close, you want to cum. But again, he slows down. You look down at him with pleading eyes but don't dare to actually say the words. He smirks at you; he loves to see you struggle like this. He loves the frustration in your eyes.

He starts up again. He gives you just enough to be close to the edge but not enough to actually go over. He keeps you there, in the middle, playing with you, torturing you. And you just can't take it anymore.

"Please" you whisper. He parts his lips from yours.

"Please what?" he says smirking, looking up at you. He brings his hand to your heat and draws small circles on your very sensitive clit. You gasp, biting your lip.

"Please let me cum" you beg in a breath, your head is dizzy, you have trouble keeping your balance on your high heels and you hold on for dear like to the edge of the desk.

"You want to cum baby?" you nod.

"Seokjong come here" your husband comes to stand directly behind him, facing you. "Watch how your wife cums for me".

With that Baekhyun's fingers slip inside you and curl up immediately spotting your good spot. You can't help but to moan loudly. His lips go back to your clit where his tongue continues to tease you further. Only this time, it's to finish the job.

Mercilessly his fingers and tongue attack you, to transform you into a moaning mess and as you feel the knot threatening to come undone you look up at your husband. You feel immense shame to let him see your delighted, sinful expressions from another man's touch. You're ashamed of letting him hear you moan for Baekhyun like that but at the same time... It turns you on so much. When you're met with the disappointed eyes of your husband you are finally able to cum. Your walls tighten around Baekhyun's fingers as you twitch uncontrollably under his tongue. Your juices rush out of you completely soaking the wooden floor. Completely out of breath you squirt all over, a blissful and lingering moan rolling off your tongue.

Baekhyun pulls out his drenched fingers out of you and stands back up before turning to Seokjong.

"Did she ever squirt like this for you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, sir." Seokjong said, lowering his eyes. Baekhyun smirked, satisfied.

You tried catching your breath as you held yourself up on the desk with difficulty.

"Seokjong sit there" Baekhyun said as he pointed to the floor in front of the desk. Seokjong complied and sat his back straight against the darkwood and waited, his eyes locked on the floor.

Baekhyun started to undress himself. One by one he undid the button of his white shirt and took it off. Revealing his perfectly sculpted body. His chest was glistening from lightly sweating. His cologne gracefully floated to your nose. He smelled exactly like he looked: very expensive and manly.

He then took his pants off and kissed you again. Forcing your mouth open with his tongue as he pushed his hips on your stomach. You couldn't wait for him to be inside you.

"Bend over the desk baby" he said softly in your ear.

You turned around and bent over. You were positioned in a way that your husband's face was directly underneath your crotch. This way he had a front row seat on your adulterous sex with his boss.

Baekhyun came over and rubbed his hot tip against your drenched heat. He brushed it against your swollen clit before slowly slipping inside you. You moaned shamelessly at the delicious full sensation he was making you feel. There was no comparison. He was so much bigger than Seokjong.

"Seokjong, did you see how easily I slipped inside her? It's almost like she was made for me" Baekhyun said in a groan. Fully indulging himself in the tightness and warmness of your naughty little pussy.

Seokjong didn't even reply, instead he started to palm himself through his pants. He hated himself for it but he couldn't stop himself from getting aroused. He saw expressions you never made for him. He heard moans he never heard from you. All of that was, inevitably, turning him on.

Baekhyun started to slowly thrust himself in and out of you. You moan for him like he is the only one in the room. At this stage, you don't care one bit about your husband anymore. The only thing that you want is Baekhyun's fat cock rearranging your guts to fit him.

"Please faster" you plead. Baekhyun smirks but decides to grant your wish and goes faster and even deeper inside you. You throw your head back as he tightens his grip on your waist. Making your breast jump and the desk shake to the sound of your skin clashing.

He feels so good inside you, no one can ever fill you up like he does with his huge cock. You moan for him, forgetting about your husband right underneath you. You want Baekhyun to hear how good he makes you feel.

"Does it feel good baby"? he groans in your ear.

"Yes!" you reply without hesitation, his low voice sending goosebumps on your skin.

"Does my cock feel good?"

"Yes! Aaah.. So good!!" you close your eyes as you feel the knot tightening again.

"Yes you're a dirty little slut of a wife" he whispers in your ear.

Seokjong palms himself harder, rubbing circles on his aching cock. Drunk on the sounds that you make only for Baekhyun. Droplets of your juices crash on his cheeks and bottom lip which he sucks off hurriedly. It's almost like you never tasted so good.

Baekhyun picks up the pace again when he feels your pussy tightly gripping on his cock.

"Moan for me slut" he says through gritted teeth.

"Aaaah Baekhyun I'm cumming" you moan shamelessly. But Baekhyun once again slows down, a whimper escapes your lips as you feel your orgasm getting away.

"I'll let you cum if you tell Seokjong how much of a disgraceful wife you are" he says in a low voice, groaning in your ear as he fucks you at an agonizingly slow pace. You whimper, not wanting to go that far.

Seokjong doesn't move anymore, he holds his breath, somehow... he wants to hear that...

Baekhyun violently thrusts inside you to convince you. You scream out a moan to the immensely pleasurable but ephemeral sensation. With a trembling lip you start.

"Seokjong I'm sorry to be such an undeserving wife" you start, Baekhyung goes ever so slightly faster inside you.

"Aaaah... I let Baekhyun fuck me and... Aaaah.. I love it"

Seokjong rubs himself through his pants once again.

"But his dick is so much better than yours... Aaaaah"

"Good girl continue" Baekhyun encourages you by fucking you harder.

"There's no way... Aaaah... I can go back to your tiny penis anymore... Aaaah. After getting a taste of Baekhyun's huge cock"

Baekhyun goes even deeper and faster. The knot is threatening to come undone at anytime.

"Baekhyun's cock is... aaaah... aah... So good I only want him to make me cum. Only he knows how to manhandle me."

Seokjong furiously palms himself underneath you, his face towards your heat, where he carefully watches his beloved wife's pussy get rammed by his boss.

"Good girl." Baekhyun praises as he doesn't stop fucking you mercilessly. Feeling your pussy twitch around his cock. "Now cum for me baby. Cum on this dick baby" he commands.

You give yourself in to the pleasure Baekhyun makes you feel as your tongue loosely hangs out of your mouth and your eyes roll back. You can't control anything anymore. You're cumming harder than ever.

"Seokjong, listen to me moan while I cum on Baekhyun's fat cock" you scream as you finally cross the edge.

Your pussy pulsing around Baekhyun's huge cock inside you. You scream Baekhyun's name one last time as your juices gush out of you again. So much liquid spurts out of your pussy, to completely soak your husband that is still sitting right underneath you.

Seokjong releases himself in his pants. A stain of cum appears on his crotch through his pants as he opens his mouth wide to catch as much squirt as he can. He drinks your juices as his dick pulses under his hand.

Pleasure completely takes over your body, making your mind blank until the only thing you can ever remember it’s this incredible sensation of Baekhyun’s cock inside you.

You don't even have time to get down from your high that Baekhyun pulls on your hair to make you face him and kneel before him. He violently pumps his fist around his cock.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth. Baby open wide" Without even a second thought you open your mouth and stick your tongue out more than happy to welcome his warm cum.

Finally Baekhyun shoots to the back of your throat and all over your face. You look delighted as so much thick cum coats your tongue and cheeks, the delicious bitter and manly taste spreads in your mouth and makes your head dizzy.

You fully savour his cum playing with it in your mouth before swallowing it all. Baekhyun looks at you with a satisfied smile. He taught you well. His eyes turn to your husband again.

"Now Kiss her. I want you to taste my cum in your beloved wife's mouth".

To Seokjong it's an unexpected miracle. He quickly scoots over to you and happily links your lips together. The bitter taste spreads to his mouth as he thoroughly licks and sucks your tongue, not forgetting one corner of your mouth.

Seokjong never told you either, but with time he also came to anticipate the visits to Mr Byun's house.

You both liked the thrill of doing something so bad, so wrong. But it felt so right and both of you were hooked.

Baekhyun smirked, a carnivorous smile plastered on his face. In the end, he both transformed you. He was proud of turning a happy couple into to two adulterous sex hungry freaks.

"See you next month"

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

[qslovebot]

KISS FOR YOUR LIFE: SPENCER REID

Summary: A BAU case leads the reader to take on an undercover role to flush out a ten-person mafia. Before the work can begin, things go awry and the reader has to improvise and pretend to seduce Spencer to keep her cover and arrest the real unsub.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/includes: talk of murder, mentions of sex, suggested past experiences with misogyny, suggestive jokes, unsub is a radical feminist, swearing, arrests, guns, making out, sort of fluffy end.

Word Count: 4159

A/N: Written like an episode. I removed Rossi so... AU? First actual fanfic on here, tell me what you think?

Today was your first official day at the BAU, switching from two floors down as an underestimated agent to upstairs, with the Big League. Agent Hotchner decided he needed new, young-minded blood. He was notorious for picking the best of the best and after an intimidating interview with him and his brooding questions, he decided he wanted you on his team.

You had been here before, of course. You frequently visited the ever-chatting Penelope Garcia for lunch, sometimes in her office, sometimes heading downstairs for a slice of pizza or a salad. She vented about her issues, while you talked about the constant misogyny that ran through the men on your floor. She was five years older than you and decided that as your 'elder' she would put on the angry soccer mom look and kick their asses. But, lucky for you, two floors upward, the men didn't act like children on the job, so Garcia could keep her regular look.

Here it was, glass entrance, high ceilings. The air smelled like paper and was filled with a fresh sort of low mumbling and the small clicks of the keyboards. A semi-fresh start. Today you would organize your new desk, sort files, meet the others...

"Agent (Y/L/N), we have a case in Boston, we will be briefed on the jet. Get your things ready, we leave in twenty-five minutes," Agent Hotchner said as he walked by. He didn't stop for a single second, those dark dress shoes clomping heavily to the desks of your new fellow agents to inform them as well. So much for your plans.

Not wanting to appear unready, you rushed to set your things down and grab the few things you needed for the case. Hotchner had said always bring three spare outfits rolled to the smallest packing size possible, toiletries (toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, and feminine hygiene products) as well as one extra pair of shoes. Those were already packed into a small bag, so in with those went your notebook, pens, and highlighter. You came prepared, so in no time, you were on the jet for the first time, exhilarated.

A hand was extended to you when you took your seat. It belonged to a man with caramel skin and a dazzling smile, "You must be (Y/L/N). The name is Derek Morgan." Anyone who used 'the name is' seemed like they felt superior in some way. It was used in the media to introduce someone of importance. 'The name is Bond, James Bond', ran through your head as you gratefully shook his hand.

"My name is Emily Prentiss and I... didn't quite catch your first name," a woman with a v-neck sweater also reached to shake your hand. "I think I may have heard it, but I must have forgotten."

"(Y/N)," you replied with a small smile. It felt nice to be greeted with kind eyes, rather than greedy ones. "It's not a very memorable name, don't worry."

Emily looked apologetic, but soon reverted to her previous smile. I was greeted by the blonde woman across the aisle, too far to shake my hand. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, I'm the media liaison, but you can call me JJ, everyone does. It's really great to meet you- for a moment I thought Penelope had made up a friend as a result of too many hours in front of a screen."

You laughed a little, ruffling your hair. She seemed outgoing, but I had already started profiling Derek Morgan and I wanted to stop there. Agent Hotchner sat down with someone I had never noticed on my visits to Penelope. I had noticed everyone else here on this jet at least once before, but... not him. How had you missed him?

He stood at about six-one, maybe six-two? He was thin, much the opposite to Morgan's greatly muscular arms. This man was calm-looking, quiet. His clothes said that maybe he was meticulous and orderly- he looked like the kind of person who didn't own a single pair of sweatpants. His face was chiselled, with a sharp jawline and cheekbones that carved the shadows on his face. His eyes, however, were much softer. Long eyelashes and dark eyes made them bigger, but they were slightly blocked by bronze-toned brown curls that at the end of his combed and gelled hair, wrapped around his jaw, neck, and face.

He was beautiful, if you were entirely frank with yourself.

And he didn't even notice you were there until Hotchner nudged his arm in a way that said 'say hello' the same way one would introduce two toddlers. You were sure you weren't a toddler and nor was this man, but it appeared you both may have been the youngest there.

When he looked your way, you wanted to look away, but couldn't. He seemed surprised to see you there and you were trying to play off the staring by introducing yourself. "Hi, I'm SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I don't think we've met, it's nice to meet you." You extended your hand and he just shook his head no, his lips pressing into a tight line.

He didn't shake hands, you realized. Probably a slight germophobe. You cleared your throat, "I'm sorry if that was an uncomfortable gesture, I didn't know." Humiliating.

The tall man opened his mouth to say something, shut his mouth, opened it again but then turned a little pink and sat down immediately next to Hotchner and stared at his hands that were folded in his lap. You had thought you nailed pretty much every introduction, but this one? Fuck.

You reverted back to your business with a sigh, patting your knees. It felt like you had somehow lost something. JJ whispered to you, silently pointing to the tall man, "Dr. Spencer Reid, human encyclopedia, dictionary, and knows pretty much everything." You nodded a thank you and she nodded back.

Derek Morgan, however, tapped Emily Prentiss on the shoulder and mumbled, "Reid did his 'pretty-girl-freakout'."

Emily gasped, "Oh, he did!

The two seemed to have forgotten you were in front of them and they noticed your confusion in unison, both of them freezing up and chuckling nervously. You smiled an extremely awkward smile and left thinking about Dr. Spencer Reid for later as you got to the case.

This was about a female mafia boss who seemed to take on the personality, style, and characteristics of the taste of rich men and kill them after having sex with them. The woman was reported and seen by one witness to see her and that was the only person outside of this mafia who had seen her face, so they were working with the sketch artist and would have the picture ready and accurate upon our arrival.

Victimology was simple, she was after men who had too much power. She probably identified with being a radical feminist. She was after their money and had sex with them to dethrone them on the way. Possibly bordered on a personality disorder considering she seemed to be entirely all-in to her 'disguises'.

The funniest thing was the way they all looked at you when you announced those lines. Perhaps you would work yourself out of the 'child' stage faster than you thought.

The BAU hit the precinct in much less time than I had expected and on the ground, running. You were immediately given things to do and you were on top of it all, every order. That was until the drawing of the Mafia leader AKA 'The Seductress' was pulled up and the whole BAU gasped at how she looked EXACTLY like you.

"Do I need my cuffs?" Morgan joked. You had covered your mouth in disbelief and the rest of the room was doing double-takes.

You laughed nervously, "I swear... that isn't me, but oh my god..." Morgan was laughing and Emily and JJ whispering and had confused smiles. Spencer Reid stood in the corner, his hand on his cheek, seemingly studying the photo. He looked statue-like, borderline godly.

"Can this be used to our advantage?" Hotch launched back into technical thinking, brow furrowed. You looked at him, mouth open, but immediately shut it out of professionalism. What was going on in his head?

Reid spoke up, "If we position her just right and at the right time in one of the hotspots for that group, we can possibly get her to somehow trick the other members into some sort of turn-in."

Her. Indirect. Did you do something wrong?

"Or a simple appearance could start gossip and a possible flock to where she was spotted. As long as people aren't seeing double or reaching to do so, she can play as The Seductress." Emily said, looking at you. "Are you up to try, (Y/L/N)?"

All eyes on you. Your first day turned to chaos. But this was your job and you would prove your place here. So you agreed and in a whisk of an afternoon, you were transformed into the mirror image of The Seductress while you were talked through the plan through a radio. Turned out, so prove a professional place, you needed to make yourself look ridiculously unprofessional.

Pinned up hair, dark cat eye makeup, a dress similar to hers that happened to be on hand. Long, deep red, with a long slit up the side and your tits were practically falling out of it, but the dress fit and they were secure, so you dealt with it. There was no other space for a gun other than the side of your thigh where The Seductress kept hers knife. Now, you had to get going, meaning you had to face the BAU in the getup.

When you walked out, Derek Morgan hooted and whistled and Emily gave him a look that said 'oh lord' like an annoyed sibling. You smiled a little and essentially just kept walking, figuring if you moved, it would give them less time to stare at your tits.

Turning the corner, you noticed that Dr.Spencer Reid was much redder than he had been earlier on the jet. So maybe he really did think you were pretty. You caught yourself smiling at the thought, but shook your head free of any ideas. Professional! No crushes on Spencer Reid!

You arrived near the scene, dropped off by Hotchner. "You know what to do. Reid will be going with you to the crateyard, he will also be nearby when you head in. If you see The Seductress, do not make the arrest. If you can, lure her."

You nodded. Wow, first time in the field with the BAU and you had the leading role. No pressure, no pressure, just... everyone depending on you. But the pressure came back when you realized you had heard right and Reid was going with you, alone. You had done really well with the job so far today, minus finding the tall doctor extremely attractive. He came to stand beside you and since he was much taller than you were, you were sure he could look right down your dress without even trying. Not like anyone had to try, but he had the upper hand.

You ached to cover yourself, but that was a major risk. The Seductress was confident, she wouldn't cover-up. You got into the tinted car with Reid, him in the driver's seat and you in the passenger's seat. Silence crept up, but he turned the engine over and headed east to where the mafia was to meet up.

"Some first day," you mumbled nervously.

Reid seemed to think you had said something to him and he talked to you directly for what seemed like the first time. "P-pardon?" He had a stutter when talking to you and to be honest it was cute but there was no time to crush!

"Oh, I was just remarking to myself on how this is my first day and I'm already... so... out there." You sighed and pat your knees. The jitters crept up, but so did butterflies. "Nervous, I'm nervous."

He looked over and swallowed hard, so hard it was audible. Was he fighting the same urge to be friendlier or was he just fighting the urge to look at your tits like a twelve-year-old boy would? Either way, you were glad he was with you. He smelled like books, leather, and cologne and it was oddly calming.

You reached the other side of the crateyard in a few more minutes and he handed you your gun, which you shoved into the holster on your thigh. "You're going without a vest so... k-keep focused," Spencer said- and it seemed like he had so many words jumbled on the tip of his tongue, but refused to say them. You thought he was afraid to annoy you, as you knew he liked to give lengthy explanations. "I'll be behind, uh- the crates."

You smiled at him and watched him look away, his curls falling in his face. God, he was so gorgeous. If this went wrong, you were glad you would go with that shy look of his in the front of your mind. He pulled on his vest and you put out a hand and stopped him. "If they see you with the vest at all, in any way, they'll know what's happening."

He nodded, keeping his eyes from yours as he pulled on a plain black jacket over the vest. For a genius, he seemed to have his mind a little fuzzy tonight. In the dark of the night, the only lights were flickering lamps on high-beamed poles. Your heart was beating hard as you waited for the signal to begin to move.

"G-good luck," Spencer's words fumbled out of his mouth and I looked at him for a moment where he looked right back at you. He chewed on his bottom lip, eyelids fluttering as you tried to look anywhere else and there it was- the radio signal. The tension that was there in that brief moment defused. You gave him a small smile before opening the car door and standing tall, in the aura of The Seductress.

Spencer waited until you were out between the crates to leave the car. You heard the door shut gently behind you, but his footsteps were silent. Much quicker than you thought, there was a gruff voice that didn't belong to Spencer. "My lady, may I say what an honour it is to have you join us this evening." You spun to face a man in a dark suit. You didn't have The Seductress's voice, so you nodded in the most gracious way you could.

"Bernard and Lolita are waiting inside the abandoned building for the small exchange as well as the rest of us, but Mamacita... you're being tailed by the FBI." He said, pointing to the crate that hid Dr. Spencer Reid. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I'll go kill him for you!"

So flat out, he wanted to kill Spencer Reid, a rotting smile on his face as if it was an act of kindness. He knew Spencer was there, he saw... but you weren't busted? God, this man was stupid.

"No," you said, in a quiet, yet strong voice, grabbing the gruff man by the shoulder pad. "He is my kill."

The man grinned an evil grin and you did your best to smile evilly in return. You showed him your gun and he rubbed his palms together. "The gluck and Glock," he chuckled. "Can I watch?"

He thought you were going to fuck and kill Spencer. Your heart skipped a beat and you tried hard not to show it. Oh no... how to work your way out of this... Spencer couldn't help you. Or... could he?

You glared at the man, "No, but I know that his team is on the way. Get Bernard, Lolita, and anyone else in on the next killings from that abandoned building and run straight west. Do not stop. I will catch up to you once I'm finished with the agent here." You improvised the best you could and this stupid man bought it. Little did he know that the team was stationed Westbound.

"Got it," his face was dazed and malevolent. "But I'm not leaving until I know you've got this handled, my lady."

"You question my skill?" You shot back, still acting.

He looked scared for a moment, "No, not at all, I just... You're a lot shorter than I was expecting."

You stared daggers, "And you insult me?"

"Just wanted to know you had it covered... in case something is fishy here..." was he really catching on or was he confused and just running through the precautions?

Fuck, you had been so focused on the cover you forgot you were a profiler. This man was small-minded, probably brought into this ordeal through family ties. Since he was so stupid, he was trusted with less... hence why he was outside the building as the lookout, rather than in on the meeting.

Why he wouldn't leave- he was so incapable of proper interaction he had never had the chance to be with a woman. Watching was the only way he would ever see. He was stupid and he was stubborn. He was not going to leave until he saw the beginning.

The best thing would be to let him stay for proof. "Fine. But when I give you my look, you run and get everyone running straight West." You narrowed your eyebrows at him and he looked like he was going to sweat out of his skin. But... this meant...

You had a few seconds, you rushed over to behind the crate to where Spencer stood, his gun in hand. "W-what are you-" he questioned in a whisper-yell.

"He's onto me, I need you to go along with this- can I kiss you, Dr.Reid?" You whispered back. His eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed pink. Once again, being professional called for being unprofessional. You really didn't want to kiss him- at least not now, not like this. He wouldn't speak and the mafia man was coming. "Reid, if I don't do this, he won't flush the group West and we'll both be shot and if not shot, targeted by a mafia!"

"Y-yes!" he practically squeaked, his back to the crate he was hiding behind. This really was the only way- this other man would not be talked down, because he was taught to just shoot, rather than listen and understand. "I'm sorry if I-"

You cut him off by reaching up, grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him. It took him a moment, but he kissed back. You could feel the heat off of his cheeks. The first day on the job, you had embarrassed yourself, gotten dressed like a Mafia killer, played the part, and now you were kissing Dr.Spencer Reid in a crateyard... and he was surprisingly not a bad kisser. He was a little sloppy the first few seconds but moments later, he figured it out. His one hand went on your jaw, the other on your waist, both of them shaking. You could tell that the shaking wasn't because the man watching you both right now had a gun, it was you.

You were making out with him, hard. Your body was pressed to his tightly against the crate and Spencer was holding you there. Your hands were still gripping his shirt. Messy altogether but your lips met in every perfect way. It was good, but for work. This was when you knew to stop- you had convinced the other man. You pulled away, turned your head and mouthed to the mafia man, 'GO' and he ran.

Now things would be extremely awkward. You pushed yourself away from Spencer whose hands stayed on your waist and face until you were entirely out of his reach. You laughed anxiously and he stood there, hands behind his back. That was... that was wow, but... it was for the case. For the case.

It was time to get moving. Spencer knew it, you knew it. The real Seductress was on her way. You turned your head over your shoulder and he was moving slowly, head down. You fought off a small smile. He was entirely red, gun still held loosely in his hand.

You turned your head and were met by a sharp blow to the face. Both of you had let your guard down. Stupid.

"I don't like impostors," said the female voice that was the source of the blow. Hell, it was her. Spencer clocked his gun into place and you turned, elbowing The Seductress in the chest. She returned with another hard blow that you ducked, spinning around her and kicking the back of her leg. She recovered quickly and shot up, punching you in the stomach. You lost your breath for a second and she took the opportunity to punch you in the jaw and pull a knife.

"Put the knife down!" Spencer called. His voice was stronger facing a woman with a sharp knife than it was when talking to you alone. "I know who you are, you want what's right for women, correct?"

The Seductress narrowed her eyes at him like her next meal, leaving you on the ground. Would Spencer shoot if she threw that knife? Odd she didn't have a gun on her. She must have been relying on the others for more protection. You stood up quietly, watching her slowly advance on Spencer. He had your lipstick smeared over his lips, he looked rough, but he held his gun out in front of him and had the other hand up to reason with her. "Men like you think yourselves above women. You, FBI, you think yourself better than men and women alike because you're the authority. Tell me, how do you like your women, Agent?"

He gulped, eyes flickering to you. You pulled out your gun. "I think... I think I'm a weak man and I'm no better than anyone. I don't deserve women." Spencer said, looking at the evil lady. In person, she looked a lot less like you.

"Lies. It's the instinct of men to feel superior to women. You'll have a lot less instinct when you're dead!" She snarled, lunging at him with her blade out. You pulled the trigger, she fell to the ground. Not dead, but wounded to pass out. Spencer narrowly jumped out of her way, watching her knife clatter to the ground.

You looked up at Spencer, bewildered. You had done it. You saved the case, took down a murderous mafia boss. It was only when Spencer pointed at your face and said, "Y-you're bleeding, (Y/N), are you okay?"- that you noticed your cut lip and the blood pouring from your forehead. But you also noticed he called you by your first name.

He reached a hand forward but retracted it when you winced from the sudden pain. Adrenaline took the pain away temporarily, you supposed. There were still things to be done. Spencer called for backup and a medic and watched as you cuffed the woman. She wasn't going to die, but she did need help.

Once medics arrived, Spencer drove you both back to the Westward situation, where ten arrests had been made. You were in a state of haze, so how Spencer's jacket got around your shoulders was a mystery. When you stepped out of the car, you were greeted by the rest of the agents.

"Are you okay?!" Prentiss was the first to greet you both. She grabbed you by the shoulders and looked at the nearly-dried blood on your skin. "We got worried when you didn't follow soon after, you got her?"

"Yeah," you smiled tiredly.

She grinned back. "Fill us in on the details on the way back, okay? Let's get you two cleaned up."

But Derek Morgan found Spencer, "Hey pretty-boy, is that royal rouge you've got on your lips there?" he teased. Spencer panicked and looked into the mirror of the nearest car, seeing that he did in fact have your lipstick on his mouth. He tried to wipe it off with his wrist, but it still stained. You wiped your own lip with your thumb and Derek caught you. "Okay, Miss Newbie, I see you."

Your eyes widened and Emily raised her eyebrows at you, a teasing smile on her lips. "It was to keep my cover. It's what sent those guys your way, one of them has serious sexual issues." You made sure they knew it- to save yourself and to save Spencer. Derek Morgan spun away with a huge knowing grin, back to Hotchner who was conversing with the Chief of Police. Emily pulled you away to the other medics and you shot Spencer a smile as you went.

He smiled back, still wiping off his mouth.

-tags

@ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch <3