#And I do think that result is interesting from what Extremely Little I know about W.icked (haven't seen the musical or movie or book)

[templeofvengeance]

STATISTICAL PERSONALITY TEST

take the linked quiz from the perspective of your character, then select 5 to 10 results from the complete matches list that you feel resonate with your character the most

Wicked Witch of the West (The Wizard of Oz): 85%

Lord Voldemort (Harry Potter): 84%

Hector Barbossa (Pirates of the Caribbean): 84%

Thanos (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 83%

Sue Sylvester (Glee): 82%

Megatron (Transformers): 82%

Ursula (The Little Mermaid): 82%

Scar (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood): 81%

Agatha Harkness (WandaVision): 79%

Mr. Burns (The Simpsons): 78%

tagged by: @timeisbrain tagging: @therapardalis, @spiderman2-99, @amon-ra-king-of-the-gods, and anyone who wants to!

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought that after a certain misunderstanding, your relationship had taken on a purely platonic and friendly form but then the investigation sent you to the freezing wilderness of alaska, where every night you find warmth in his bed.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!bau reader, the same reader as in my story "the bolter" but it's not necessary to read it before! there are no major references, but people who have read it might treat this as a continuation (if they want to). in this story, we still have our wonderful queen elle greenaway, gideon and morgan, and many of my attempts (not always successful) at being funny. mostly smut with A LOT of plot, description of the case, oral (f receiving) and some much actions but described in a subtle way. a little bit of angst, but I wouldn't be myself if I didn't add some. again, GLASSES REID!!

𝐚/𝐧: first fic at the beginning of the month, i really wanted to post it today. i think it's time to start posting christmas-themed works? would you be interested? by the way, i hope december will treat you kind <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

“I’m freezing, God, I’m freezing.”

“Me too, look how I’m shaking, I swear, one more hour and my feet will fall off, and then my toes…”

“Guys, for god’s sake!” Morgan finally spoke up, his voice tinged with impatience. The hood of his waterproof, windproof jacket covered almost half of his face, and even so, he was clearly the lightest dressed of all of them. “We’ve landed.” He pulled off a glove to check his watch. “Just under fifteen minutes ago. You still don’t know shit about freezing, so stop complaining like a bunch of old women in a knitting cycle…”

“I’d love to be an old lady in a knitting circle right now,” you sighed, your breath immediately turning to steam. You exchanged a look with Reid, who was freezing just as much as you were, and together, you had been driving Derek crazy with your whining. You all had similar gear, thermal layers, and jackets designed for extreme conditions, but it still wasn’t enough. “Sitting by the fireplace, knitting a sweater. Gossiping with other retirees.”

“Exchanging gingerbread recipes,” Spencer suggested, his tone just as wistful.

“And sharing tips for dealing with worms in our cats’ anuses,” you added.

“I’m done," Derek muttered.

Your work often sent you to various corners of the United States, but it rarely involved Alaska. Well, due to the state’s relatively low population density compared to others, fewer crimes were committed there, especially at the federal level.

However, in recent weeks, strange disappearances had occurred—teenagers and young men. Their bodies were found in remote areas, deep in the forest or in completely uninhabited wilderness, places so isolated that even an experienced survivalist would struggle to find their way out.

The local police, as local police often do in most criminal cases, initially pretended there wasn’t a problem, insisting the victims had died as a result of tragic accidents, simply getting lost during a hike. But when the number of deaths began to rise, and the victims included even high school students—locals who were well aware of the dangers of wandering alone after dark in such perilous areas—the case landed on JJ’s desk.

And so, you found yourselves in the brutally frigid surroundings of Fairbanks, heading toward the inn where you were supposed to drop off your things and immediately dive into the investigation.

"The temperature this week is going to range from 15 to 5 degrees Fahrenheit," Spencer informed you over his shoulder as he opened the car trunk to retrieve the luggage. "Of course, that's during the day. At night, it’ll drop as low as -4 degrees."

Elle shivered as he handed her her bag.

"I was doing just fine without those numbers," she said, nudging you lightly with her shoulder—a touch you barely felt through the thick layers of clothing. "What do you say we make up for this with a New Year’s trip? Mallorca? The Himalayas?"

"I’m dreaming of the Caribbean," Morgan chimed in. "Beaches, sunshine, and cocktails—that’s what I’ll be dreaming of tonight."

"And half-naked sunbathers," you added.

"And half-naked sunbathers," he agreed with a grin.

Elle trudged ahead, sinking into the snow up to her calves. The inn was a sizable wooden building, adorned with balconies and terraces that, given the weather, likely went unused, though they added considerable charm. It was tucked away in a secluded spot, offering privacy and a peaceful atmosphere—ideal for work.

You lingered by the car, waiting for Reid to grab his things, unwilling to leave him behind.

“Do you know much about the northern lights, Rudolph?” you teased, nodding toward his red-tipped nose. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing them.”

“Well, then you’re in luck,” he replied, looking at you with a slight smile. “We’re in one of the best places to see them, during the season with the longest nights. They’ll be visible pretty early, though the most stunning views will probably happen between ten at night and two in the morning. I’ve always wanted to see them in person too.”

"So, what do you think?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "Midnight, at my door, and we’ll go play aurora hunters?"

You shivered just at the thought. Of course, you were joking—there was no way you'd even stick a single hand out from under the covers at this hour with those freezing nighttime temperatures. You planned to admire the beautiful phenomenon from your room window. Warm, you hoped.

"Alright. Just make sure you bundle up,"

 "Sure. Thermal thong and all that."

Your room was on the same floor as Elle's and JJ's, and you were glad to have them just behind the next door. Unpacking took you only a minute, and within that time, you were all together, sitting as a team, going through the case files.

“These boys were so young,” JJ remarked, shaking her head with a hint of dread. “Sixteen, the youngest, twenty-four, the oldest. They were found in such remote locations that if it hadn’t been for the ongoing professional search and the dogs, who knows how long it would have taken before anyone stumbled upon their bodies.”

“Given the heavy snowfall, they might not have been found until the thaw. What do their parents and families say about all of this?” Hotch asked.

“Unanimously, they believe their kids would never have ventured that far on their own. This is where the mystery starts, though, because there were no wounds on their bodies, except for the ones they inflicted on themselves in their attempts to survive in the cold.”

“So, it looks like someone kidnapped them, drove them out to a place you’d never get out of without serious survival skills, and just left them to die?” Derek asked, baffled.

“Seems that way. Yesterday, an eighteen-year-old named David Moore was reported missing. Normally, it probably would have been classified as a delayed return home or maybe a runaway, and the police wouldn’t have even taken the report. But given the current circumstances and the rising panic among the locals, his parents decided not to wait. A wise decision.”

"How many hours has it been since he went missing?" you asked, running your own grim calculations in your head. "Around eight, right? Is it even possible for him to survive the night out there in these conditions?"

"That depends on what he was wearing and the specific location where he was left," Reid explained, thoughtfully cleaning the lenses of his glasses. You realized it had been a while since you’d seen him wearing them—he used to wear them daily, but lately, it was only on occasion. For a moment, you found yourself staring at his face, liking how the dark frames suited it.

"His parents believe he was likely abducted on his way home from tutoring," Elle noted, flipping through the case file. "People around here dress warmly as a habit, but even so, I doubt his everyday clothes would be particularly suited to weather like this. At night. In the middle of the woods."

An uncomfortable silence followed her words, broken only by Hotch clearing his throat.

"Anyway, we need to join the ongoing search efforts. We’ll be more useful out in the field than trying to build a profile with the scraps of information we have. I’m not sure if I need to remind you, but out of habit, I will: be cautious and don’t, under any circumstances, stray from the search group. They know this area."

Before you all moved out to get to work, Reid shot you a fleeting glance. Like a dad, you mouthed silently, and he let out the faintest chuckle. You both enjoyed spotting those unmistakably parental tendencies in your boss, though they were directed at you and the rest of the team.

Hours of searching had, unfortunately, yielded no results—the crushing pressure of time bore down on you all. The knowledge that each passing moment was stripping this boy of his chances for survival felt almost unbearable. If he had somehow managed to survive the first eight hours in the forest, sixteen seemed an increasingly unlikely feat.

And yet, hope lingered. The group, driven by his distraught family, refused to stop, likely continuing to scour the area despite warnings. Meanwhile, you stood in your hotel room, so close to the window that the cold glass brushed against your nose.

Your thoughts were consumed by the case and the fate of the teenager. Just as Reid had said, the sky was illuminated by that breathtaking greenish glow. Watching it felt almost surreal, and you wanted to take in as much of it as your eyes could hold.

If it weren’t for the fact that you had frozen to your very core during the search, you might have stepped outside to see it more clearly. 

Just as the thought crossed your mind, there was a knock at your door.

You furrowed your brow, not expecting anyone. When you opened it, you came face to face with none other than Spencer. Well, it was hard to tell it was him at first. He was bundled up so tightly in layers of warm clothes that his body lost its natural shape and resembled more of a puffy ball than a person.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, raising his hand hesitantly and scanning your appearance from head to toe. "You're not ready yet. Sorry, I think I came too early. I thought we were meeting at midnight..."

"We were meeting?"

"For the northern lights hunt, you forgot? I checked the Kp index, it's a measure of aurora activity that determines its intensity, and it turns out tonight is really favorable... wait, why are you laughing?"

His furrowed brows and face, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway but clearly confused, only made you laugh harder. Shaking your head in disbelief, you covered your smile with your hand.

"Spencer, I was joking," you said, suddenly feeling guilty that your sarcasm had led him to spend time and effort preparing for a night out. "There’s no way I'm going out in this cold. I’d rather dive headfirst into boiling water, at least that would be warmer."

“Oh,” he let out a short, disappointed sigh. He quickly nodded, as if trying to accept the situation, and forced a more neutral expression. “I—I really thought you were serious. Sorry for... for waking you up, then.”

For a moment, you stood in silence, your hand resting on the doorframe. An odd, unexpected thought sprinted through your mind. It had been such a long time since the two of you had been together like this, late at night, in the same room...

“Well, in that case,” he cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry again. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Forget I came here and embarrassed myself. That’s all. Sorry. I should probably go if I want to avoid being completely sleep-deprived tomorrow...”

“Go where?” you interrupted, suddenly standing straighter, alarmed.

“Aurora hunting.”

“By yourself? Spencer, have you lost your mind?”

He opened and closed his mouth, caught off guard by your outburst.

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll ever get another chance like this, being in the Arctic Circle...”

“It’s pitch dark and freezing cold. You don’t know the area—”

“...I’ve had a chance to look around, and I’m not going far. There’s a small hill just behind the inn—”

“...And there’s a freaking serial killer on the loose around here, did you forget?”

“Well, I have a gun.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go,” you cut him off firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. Spencer tilted his head, clearly ready to argue further, but before he could speak, you added, “Give me five minutes.”

“What?”

“Five minutes to get dressed. I’m coming with you.”

At first, you could have sworn a faint smile flickered across his lips. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head vehemently.

“No, really, you don’t have to. Not just because of me. I’ll be fine…”

"Five minutes," you repeated once more, slightly flustered and trying not to dwell on the fact that the moment you stepped outside, you’d likely regret this decision. “Wait here. Or come inside—I don’t want to shut the door in your face.” As you spoke, you opened the door wider, inviting him in.

Without wasting another second, you headed straight for your suitcase. Okay, how many layers does one need for a night outside in Alaska?

“I actually bought a set of thermal underwear specifically for this case,” you said, pulling out the essentials from your bag. Most of what you’d worn during the day would work fine, but you debated adding an extra sweater and another pair of socks. “And, oh my God, I hate it. I’d rather wear lace thongs 24/7 than spend more than eight hours in this bugger.”

You glanced subtly over your shoulder, curious to see his reaction and waiting for his reply. It wasn’t like you wanted to embarrass him, but you absolutely adored how, in response to even your most suggestive remarks, he could always respond with complete seriousness—like he was dissecting some profound issue. Judging by the furrow of his brow, this time would be no different.

“Really? You know, thermal underwear is generally associated with comfort. The fabric is typically elastic, soft, and breathable. High-quality models are even seamless, so they don’t cause any chafing. Maybe you bought a poorly fitted one?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, I have no expertise in this area. It digs in so much, though, and I have to keep myself from adjusting it. Can you imagine me sticking my hand in my pants right in front of the missing boy’s family?”

He hesitated before responding.

“Not really. But I can picture Hotch’s face.”

“And I can picture a termination notice on my desk the next day,” you quipped.

You grabbed all the clothes you had gathered and disappeared into the bathroom to layer them on. It wasn’t a quick job—by the end, you felt like your movements were completely restricted by the weight of it all—but at least you were prepared. When the first merciless blast of Alaskan air brushed against the tiny exposed part of your face, it didn’t immediately make you want to run back inside screaming. 

Instead, you sighed in awe.

"I know I’ve invoked God's name a hundred times already, but God, this is beautiful," you said, feeling your own words too inadequate to describe the miracle above your heads. The streaks of light stretching across the sky, an intense green with a certain transparency, a glassy quality, the stars peeking through it all.

 Spencer turned to you over his shoulder. He was only a couple of steps ahead, but he kept doing it as if afraid that in a moment of not seeing you, you'd fall into the snow and disappear forever.

“Wait until we get to the spot,” he said, his smile clearly excited. In his dark eyes, the light seemed to reflect and stay there, even when he blinked, as though he had already absorbed it all deep inside. “It’s only ten minutes away, but it makes a difference.”

"I hope you're not one of those people who says, 'Oh, it's just around the corner, we don't need a cab!' and then leads you to walk halfway across the city" you scoffed. You tried to keep your gaze fixed on his back, his lantern swinging in his hand. Alaska, the vast empty terrain, the thick layers of snow, seemed to hide some sort of mystery beneath them, and it filled you with a fair amount of fear. "Will you shield me with your chest if a bear jumps out at us?"

"Actually, yes, I would," he replied. "But not because of heroism, it's more because I have bear spray in my pocket, and by that very fact, it's probably my duty."

"Okay, let’s make a deal: you protect us from a potential bear attack, and I’ll take care of Bigfoot. By the way, that legend never really scared me. A monkey with gigantic feet just sounds too ridiculous to me. Remember that episode of History's Mysteries that we watched at your place?"

You both shared a love for a certain TV show about conspiracy theories and famous mysteries from around the world.

 "Of course. You know part of it was filmed right here in Fairbanks? Bigfoot never really fascinated me either, but I liked that at the end of the episode they also mentioned other Alaskan legends. Like The Kushtaka, for example."

"I don't remember that. But I'm not sure I want you to tell me," you confessed, taking a breath, the cold biting into your lungs. Despite the layers of clothing, it was getting colder and colder, but at least you'd finally reached the spot Spencer had chosen. He was right; the vast plain on the small hill was perfect for watching the aurora. You had the feeling that the sky was only an inch above your head, and a childlike urge to reach up and touch it. "Alright, you've got me too intrigued. Go ahead."

You noticed that, unlike you, Spencer wasn't tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. He was looking at you.

"The Kushtaka is a creature from the folklore of the surrounding tribes. It is most often described as a hybrid of a human and an otter..."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Otters, seriously? Is that supposed to chill me to the bone?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Okay, let me tell you the story differently," he proposed in a similar tone, swallowing as if to prepare himself for the tension-building drop in his voice. "Just like now, we're heading out to see the northern lights. Just the two of us, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The sky is overcast that day, and there’s hardly any light to see." At that moment, he switched off the flashlight he was holding, and his previously well-lit face faded into obscurity. You crossed your arms over your chest, silently promising yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being scared.

“In this story, do my thermal undies also ride up so uncomfortably?”

“Your underwear isn’t a significant part of this tale. Anyway… crap, where was I?”

“The thought of my underwear distracted you?”

You heard him sigh, almost in exasperation, and a sly smile spread across your face.

“Let me continue. No more comments about underwear.”

“My underwear or in general?”

“SO WE’RE HEADING TO SEE THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. It’s dark, it’s creepy, and you’ve got chills running down your spine. Then suddenly, you realize you’ve lost me.”

“Phew,” you exhaled with theatrical relief. “Finally got rid of that creep who kept obsessing over my underwear.”

"You know what, I’m done. I’m done. I won’t tell you the story about the human-otter hybrid."

“I’m devastated by this fact!” you assured him in the same overly dramatic tone. Taking it a step further, you jumped toward him, desperately grabbing the fabric of his jacket. “Dr. Reid, please, I beg you, tell me about the human-otter hybrid. I need this. I’ll sell my soul and body, just please…”

Spencer threw his head back, laughing, and as you tried to calm yourself down, you leaned against him. Taken by surprise, he lost his balance, sending both of you toppling into the snow.

“Damn, we’re going to be wet!” he groaned, trying to get up from the deep snowdrift you both had fallen into. It wasn’t the easiest task with all the layers of clothing and a girl who was dying of laughter on top of him.

“I think that’s enough of our aurora watching,” you said once you both finally managed to get back on your feet. Despite the ski pants and very, very warm clothes, you were starting to feel frozen. “And enough of your legends. It’s late, and we should head back.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, sounding like a little puppy that had been scolded for peeing on the carpet.

“You can tell me on the way,” you replied. “Come on.”

You sent one last glance toward the sky before moving forward, your mind focused entirely on the vision of a hot, soothing bath and a blanket with an extra layer for warmth. For the rest of the walk, Spencer didn’t try to use his low voice or mysterious narrative tone. He finished the story in his usual manner, sounding more like a fascinated lecturer. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—he had sounded really sexy earlier, you had to admit.

When you both got back to the guesthouse, you glanced at the stairs leading up to your room and shook your head in refusal.

“If I don’t get under at least five blankets right this second, I’m going to die, so sorry my dear, but I’m coming to you and I won’t leave until I’m warm, or I’ll never leave at all,” you said quickly and firmly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow but replied just as energetically.

“I don’t think I have five blankets in my room.”

“Three will be fine.”

And that's exactly how it went. First, you took off your jackets, and then, in your typical everyday clothes, you quickly jumped into bed, covered with the duvet up to your neck, waiting for the pleasant warmth to spread across your bodies.

“Was seeing the aurora worth all that suffering?' you asked, turning onto your side in bed so you could face him.

'Well, it wouldn't have been suffering if someone hadn't shoved both of us into the snow...'

He said this while lying on his back, but shortly after these words, he followed your lead and also turned onto his side. Your breath became shallower. It had been almost a year since you last had him this close, almost a year since you slept together, and then decided to let the situation fade into oblivion.

Honestly, you almost succeeded. After all, that incident was like every other encounter you had with guys. Spontaneous, one-time, followed by bolting. But you didn’t see those other guys afterward. Every day at work, forced to watch him wipe his glasses, his damn glasses, with the same fingers he…

“Are you thinking about something specific?” he suddenly asked, his voice eerily similar to the one he used to tell you the story on the hill, a voice you found so sexy.

That was the kind of man Spencer Reid was. Always wanting to know what was going on inside your head.

You sighed, probably too loudly.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking right now," 

You felt a little pathetic, realizing that your whole excuse about not being able to go to your room was just a pretext to end up in his bed. Once again. This whole trip to Alaska must have really messed with your head. Or maybe it cleared the fog in your mind and left a single thought, naked and defenseless. You wanted him. 

"I know how pathetic that sounds, but I always want to know what you're thinking," he replied after a moment, swallowing audibly. You heard it clearly, you were so close. So close...

You had to make a quick decision: whether to continue and face the consequences the next day, or, perhaps worse, to be rejected? It was possible that he had learned from your last time together, and didn’t want to get involved with you that way.

"I can show you what I'm thinking," you finally proposed, not blinking for a long moment, just carefully studying the features of his face, any signs of uncertainty or tension. 

Because there was that one small seed of probability that he wanted you too.

His lips parted, but were immediately covered by your kiss. 

Slow and curious. How did he taste after all this time? 

Maybe it was a thought whispered by the moment, but you had the feeling that even better. 

You didn’t play the role of a taster for too long. Soon, still not pulling his lips away from yours, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your elbow on the bed, pressing closer to him with every passing moment, more intensely and hungrily. 

Something seemed to haunt you, preventing you from moving any further. Something in his posture—lying on his back, surrendered to your control, yet somehow absent.

You pulled away from his lips, your gazes meeting. There was a certain weakness and sadness in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you managed to ask, your voice strangely trembling.

Spencer suddenly sat up, straightening himself, though there was still a slight bend in his shoulders. His movement forced you to pull away from his chest.

"I can't do this," he confessed quietly, taking a deep breath. "I can't sleep with you." In a way, it hurt more than if he had simply refused to let you kiss him. Your forehead furrowed in disappointment and... shock?

"Why?" you asked directly, foregoing any excuses about not aiming for that. Because you had been.

He let out a laugh, filled with pity.

"Because after this, I won’t be able to stop thinking about you. And you, after tonight, won’t want me anymore."

You were breathing heavily, completely unsure of what to say. His words were painfully eye-opening, first and foremost. And secondly... true. Because did you plan, like a normal person, to wake up next to him, greet him, date him? That wasn’t how you operated. In your plans, there was always just one option—escape. Exactly like that time.

You slowly began to slide off the bed, his hand moved to reach for yours, and you hoped he would take it, but at the last moment, he hesitated. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him, yet you didn’t look at him the whole time. You sounded stiff, almost reproachful, even though you were the one who should be reproached. You were the problem.

You looked around the floor, used to picking up your clothes from it, but this time there was nothing. Except for the jacket hung up and the ski pants you’d pulled on over your regular ones to avoid freezing in the cold night. Leaving without a word seemed excessive.

Your back rested against the door as you turned to look at him. Your quick-thinking mind raced, searching for something to say to at least salvage some dignity in this situation…

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen,” you finally suggested.

Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up or stay there. Eventually, it seemed like he stayed, though you weren’t sure, having already turned toward the door, your hand pressing on the doorknob.

“T-think that’s the best solution,” he admitted, just as one of your feet stepped into the hallway.

Then, you heard someone whistling.

You immediately stepped back into his room, keeping your face turned toward the door.

“Damn, it’s Morgan,” you said, recognizing the person in the hallway by the sound alone. “We better not let him see me leave, or he’ll never leave us alone…”

You expected that when you turned around, you’d find him still sitting on the bed. After all, you hadn’t heard him get up, hadn’t heard him approach. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you turned, his lips would almost immediately attack yours.

It was so unexpected, so sudden, that the back of your head slammed against the door.

“Fuck, sorry…”

But you didn’t think for a second about the pain, nor did you focus on why Spencer had suddenly changed his mind. Your attention was solely on the two of you, two desperate pairs of lips pressing together and pulling apart, never staying away for long.

He pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. Unlike the last time, it was your back that hit the mattress first. The cool surface, the heated bodies, and the weight of the layers of clothing between you both.

"You've changed," you noticed.

A different dynamic. The pace was set by him—just moments ago, you were standing by the door, and now, half of your clothes were gone, while the soft skin of your neck was buried under a cascade of messy, impatient kisses.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his face hovering above yours, one hand resting on the bed next to it.

"I haven't gotten enough to say for sure," you replied, teasingly. "But I get the feeling you're more confident now. A lot of practice since last time?"

He shrugged.

"I don't think it's about practice," he said, his hand sliding down your side until it stopped at the waistband of your pants, lingering there but not moving any lower. You reached for his hand, brushing against it before trailing your fingers along its length up to his forearm, feeling one of his veins beneath your fingertips. "I guess... I was just scared you'd leave, and I had to stop you somehow. That’s why I rushed," he admitted.

His gaze lingered mostly on your face, but it wandered across your body, his frustration clear as he eyed the layers of clothing still in his way. Something about his desperation and impatience stirred something playful in you, and you couldn’t resist teasing him.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you tilted your chin to look at him.

 “If I tried to leave right now, how would you stop me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your question, but he decided to play along, nodding thoughtfully.

“I think I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Care to show me?” you asked, your voice dripping with challenge.

For a moment, he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at you, until he allowed himself that first, utterly shameless drop of his gaze and a soft sigh. His lips began their journey, starting at their usual, safe spot on your neck, trailing toward your shoulder, and crossing over your collarbone with deliberate intent. You were still half-sitting, struggling to steady your breathing so your chest wouldn’t rise and fall too much or too quickly, trying not to disrupt him. The first hint of uncertainty appeared between your breasts when his kisses momentarily softened, carefully exploring unfamiliar territory and testing your sensitivity.

You struggled more and more to keep yourself from collapsing fully onto the mattress. But when his cool tongue met your skin, pressing against it so firmly that his forehead brushed against your stomach, relentlessly moving lower, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

He was between your knees, bent in anticipation. He reached them, sliding his hands down your thighs and coaxing them to relax. He fumbled a bit while unbuttoning your pants, and had trouble sliding them down while you were lying there. You lifted your hips to help, even tried to do it yourself, but he stopped your hands, placing them above your head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly, finally freeing your legs from both pant legs. His hands wrapped around your ankles, his thumb tracing gentle circles around one of them, which somehow completely seized your attention, and you focused solely on that subtle motion. For a moment, you closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you noticed that his chin was just above your panty line. "Actually, it will be much more pleasant for you if you just focus on feeling and nothing else. I was supposed to show you my ideas, remember?"

“As someone who apologized for being in too much of a hurry, you sure have an unexpectedly large amount of patience now,” you remarked with reproach, lifting your head again. Maybe keeping it down allowed for more comfort and relief for your neck, but on the other hand, the sight of his face immersed between your thighs was simply priceless.

If the sight itself was priceless, how do you describe that feeling?

With every move of his tongue, your hips swayed, adjusted to the rhythm. Often tense, trying to find some outlet, especially when sighs escaped his lips and his cool breath penetrated through you.

"Think I'm gonna cume embarrassingly quickly," you confessed, unsure whether he even understood anything from your sentence, which was at least interwoven with two moans. Three.

When it happened, you uncontrollably squeezed his head with your knees, a similar groan also came from his mouth. 

Spender didn’t stay in that position for long. When you opened your tightly shut eyelids, his face was right above yours, stretched in such satisfaction, as if he was the one receiving pleasure.

"Was it too quick for you?" he asked, still absorbing you with the same gaze, which seemed to pulse with desire. "If you want, we can try again, you’ll surely improve..."

"My God, when did you become so cocky?"

He chuckled, but instead of answering, he once again pressed himself against your body and skin, closing his eyes in devotion and lingering on each spot for as long as it took, as if he could never be satisfied, no matter how much he took in. 

Your hands, instead of tormenting the innocent fabric of the blanket, moved to his back, tightly embracing his neck and basically everything they could latch onto. All of his earlier composure seemed to evaporate; you didn’t even have to ask twice to make him slide in. It actually sounded more like an order than a request, a bit desperate, it's true, but still an order.

"How is it even possible that it feels even better than the last time?” His words, his lips, ticked your neck as he moaned out this question. "Just... I feel like I won’t have enough of you tonight."

"The night is long," you said, almost into the air, not really paying attention to the meaning behind it. "Tomorrow night too."

Spencer stopped, completely. His eyes desperately searched for yours, and when he finally found them, they widened in disbelief.

"Tomorrow night too?" he repeated. "But I thought... I thought you didn't want anything more than a one-night fling…”

"It's already our second," you reminded him. "And I'll be completely honest with you, I don’t want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of you. Let's make a deal, okay?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it in a moment, but right now...Oh God, I think I’m gonna…”

You both got dressed right after, but not because either of you intended to leave. The temperature inside simply didn’t allow for sleeping naked, no matter how warm you were after sex.

"So?" he asked, handing you the piece of paper you had sent him to the bathroom for. Then he sat on the bed, facing you. "What did you mean by this deal?"

"Well, after thinking about it, I'm not sure if it's a good idea after all..."

"I want to know, even if just out of curiosity."

"You want to know everything, Spence. But fine. I thought maybe... while we're in Alaska, we could just, you know, allow ourselves to do whatever we want. In more direct terms, fuck each other as much as we want.”  

It sounded a bit...crazy? Spencer kept his gaze suspended in the air for a moment before turning it back to you, questioning.

"But only as long as we're in Alaska?"

"Exactly. Since there's only one floor between us, why not take advantage of it?" you tried to joke, lightening the mood.

It didn’t seem to have much effect on him.

"But what happens next? When we get back?"

"Do we really have to think about that?" you wondered, moving closer to him, to the body that just moments ago made you feel so good. "We'll get used to being apart, just like before."

"Okay," he sucked in a breath, clearly torn over the proposal. "I mean, no, I didn’t mean okay... because it doesn’t seem like a great idea, but on the other hand... on the other hand, I really, really want you, even if it only means for this short time."

You smiled, though deep down, somewhere very deep, there was something somber in that gesture. 

Ignoring that, you kissed him to seal the deal. And not just that.

"That was for good night and goodbye."

"Goodbye? You're leaving?" A clear look of disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of it. "Good night, then."

 "It's not that I don't want to stay. It's just that it would be better to be well-rested for work, and I don't think we'd sleep properly if I decided to spend the night here. “

You saw him open his mouth, ready to protest, but you had already gotten up from the bed and started gathering your remaining things.

"Wait," he called as you were about to leave. "You said... you said something that's been bothering me, you know? I can even quote it, so listen up. You said that you don't want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of me."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter.

"And that bothers you?"

"I don’t understand what you meant by that. What in my behavior makes you feel that way?"

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you someday. Maybe it's better if you're not aware of it."

"Hey, now I won’t be able to sleep!"

"Anyway, good night, sweet boy."

*

Almost the first thing in the morning, you found yourselves at the local police station, full of disappointment and anxiety. You had to inform the parents of the missing boy found in the forest that he had been located. But unfortunately, it was not good news.

The first hours of the day passed in constant analysis and discussion, until finally, around noon, you gathered in front of the town's police officers, ready to deliver the profile. You didn’t have much time for any reflection on the previous night, or even for a conversation with Spencer. A sober one this time, when you weren’t intoxicated by desire and each other.

You stood in the corner of the room, listening to Hotch and Gideon.

"The UNSUB is a white male, likely with military experience or, at the very least, extensive survival skills, estimated to be around 50-60 years old. He abducts teenagers, boys, and young men who look younger than their actual age, which suggests he doesn’t know his victims very well."

"If he observes them, it’s for a short period. He doesn’t have time to get to know them but understands their routine and daily schedule well enough to know when to strike."

"He doesn’t drug his victims, which means he is physically capable of abducting them without assistance. This ties into the type of victims he selects. All these boys were more the intellectual type than athletes. When abducted, they were coming from school, tutoring sessions, or the library. David Moore, for instance, was tall but lanky. His family described him as gentle, with a big heart and a passion for learning."

"The UNSUB abandons them in remote forest locations. Forcing them to fight for survival gives him a sense of control and serves as a way to prove his belief that modern society and boys today are incapable of handling adversity. He openly despises them, viewing them as weak and effeminate. His mindset reflects a toxic approach to gender roles and what he considers the traditional male archetype."

“White men aged 50-60 with survival skills make up about half the population here,” a policeman noted. “Take me, for example…”

Hotch began providing more detailed information, while Gideon stepped out of the center of the room, and the atmosphere became more relaxed.

You approached Reid, who was sitting in a chair, and ruffled his hair with your hand.

“Watch your back, genius-boy,” you warned, standing behind him. From his seat, he tilted his head all the way back to look up at you. A smile instantly appeared on his face.

“You might just be next. And we wouldn’t want that.”

“So, you think I’m effeminate?”

"I know very well that you're not. But you do have that intellectual spark in your eyes. And, you know, those glasses don’t help."

Ever since you’d been in Alaska, he’d worn them less often because, as he’d told you while chatting in bed, they kept fogging up. But now, they were perched on his nose, making him look... delectable. Simply delectable.

The rest of your team approached, Elle's gaze lingering on your hand resting on the back of Reid's chair. As usual, she had to notice everything.

"I need to send you all to a few places to check out some individuals the police have identified as matching the profile," Hotch announced. "Y/N and Elle, I’d like you to speak again with the bus driver who drove David Moore just before he was abducted. Once he understands the profile, he might be able to recall more details."

You lingered in the room, wanting to exchange a word with Spencer. In complete privacy... He was slowly wiping his glasses, as if hoping for the same. Watching the movements of his hands, you shook your head.

"This is it—what you asked me about yesterday. What makes me sexually frustrated. Our agreement still stands, right?" you asked, running your hand along his shoulder, just to touch him. Even though the many layers of clothing made it almost impossible to really feel him.

He looked at the glasses he was cleaning, then at you, disbelief written all over his face.

"That's what you meant? Cleaning glasses?"

"Don't judge me. It's about the motion. Or maybe the glasses themselves, I don't know. Maybe I’m a fetishist. Anyway, are you going to answer my question?"

Still seated in the chair, he had to tilt his head back to look at you, which reminded you—just a little, okay, a lot—of another situation where he was down below.

"What about you?" he countered. "You haven’t changed your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"In that case, yes. It still stands."

“Oh, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d answered differently. See you tonight, then,” you promised, glancing around the room to make sure none of your team members were still there. Just a few local officers... who weren’t paying much attention to you. Even if they were, it wasn’t their business.

You leaned in quickly to kiss him. He closed his eyes, as if hoping for more.

“Not now, and not here. I need to go find Elle. Hotch gave us an assignment. Have a good one.”

You walked away, feeling his gaze on your back.

You found your friend in the car, one of those suited for tough terrain, with high tires. She was sitting behind the wheel, tapping her nails on it.

"So, what was the address of that driver?" you asked, fastening your seatbelt.

"Forgive my bluntness, darling, but I’ll die if I don’t know. What was that all about?"

"What do you mean, ‘What was that all about’?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Messing with his hair, the chair, the looks. Are you two sleeping together again?"

You technically had no reason to hide anything from her, after all, you trusted her completely and had never hesitated to talk about your sex life. But this time... you kind of liked the idea of keeping whatever happened between you and Spencer just between the two of you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We're just acting like we usually do," you said.

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling away from the police station, her gaze shifting between the road and you. "Then what were those sounds last night from his room?"

"Oh shit, did we make noise?"

She smiled triumphantly.

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm just teasing you. I'm on a completely different floor. But I'll take that as an admission of guilt."

"Manipulative bitch!"

"I'll take that as a compliment. So?"

You rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh, but eventually, you confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

"I thought you didn't sleep with the same guy twice."

"The air in Alaska really does something strange to me."

"Sure. The air," she scoffed, and you furrowed your brows in slight confusion, looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate. The car glided along one of those completely empty, snow-covered roads where there was nothing to focus on. "You know, I wonder why you just don't admit that you like him?"

"I don't hide the fact that I like him."

"Then why not give it a try?"

"Try what, Elle?"

She glanced at you sideways, her lips tightening at your obviously irritated tone. She didn't mean to upset you, of course, but that's how you felt. She sighed, as if thinking about how to approach the subject.

"You've learned to live with it," she finally began, slowly and cautiously weighing her words. "With that fear. Of intimacy and commitment."

"It's just a preference."

"No, it's not a preference. It's fear. You're afraid that if you get emotionally close to someone, you'll be abandoned, and you don't want to risk another painful loss. You want to have full control over the relationship and disappear when you feel like it's fading. Usually in the morning. It's a common mechanism, and it's not just about you. And no mechanism can be broken without making an attempt."

"Elle, stop. You're profiling me, and you know how much I hate that."

And actually, you hated being confronted with the truth about yourself and being internally forced to draw conclusions about yourself.

It was easy, living without reflecting on oneself. Especially when those reflections were painful. You could hurt yourself, unsuccessfully trying to confront them, or flow along with their current, completely subordinated to them and deaf to the words of others, who said you were only hurting yourself in the bigger picture.

 Elle dropped the subject, as you had arrived at the house of the man you were supposed to interview. She didn’t bring it up again afterward. The hours at work passed, and you only waited for that specific moment when you'd cross the threshold of that room again.

The previous night danced vividly in your mind, never slowing down or taking a break for a moment. As soon as he opened the door, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his face, and unbuckling his belt.

Spencer took a sharp breath, shocked and amused, as soon as you touched him.

"It would be incredibly awkward if someone were at my place right now," he chuckled into your mouth, half of his sentence drowned out by your kiss.

You pulled your face away just slightly, raising your eyebrows. It was only then that you noticed he was wearing glasses. Oh, he was so completely unaware of what you were about to do to him...

"How many people do you bring to yourself every night?" you asked.

"In that regard, only you. Besides, this is only the second time, so I wouldn’t call it every night... but I could always be here with someone, talking..."

"Keeping each other warm," you added.

Your hands slid under the fabric of his clothes, brushing the lower part of his stomach.

He noticeably tensed under your fingers, swallowing slowly, impatient and pleading.

"Engaging in a worldview discussion and exchanging conclusions," he finished, a smile playing on his lips.

"Uh-huh. Exactly like we are now. Honestly, does that turn you on? Do you want me to share my political views while you’re eating me out?” 

"This is probably the only scenario in which you could make me not feel pleasure because of it."

His hands hesitated, roaming uncertainly across your body, unsure of where to start. They brushed over so many spots, moving from one to the next, chaotic and desperate. 

You didn’t know where to focus – on the lips in the hollow of your neck, on the hand on your hips, or the other, slipping lower and lower?

Or perhaps on that sound, right by your ear, sweet, pleading whimper?

Moan left your body just for that reason and you already knew how you wanted the rest of the night to unfold. 

You gently pushed him back, and with quickened breath, you dropped to one knee, then the other.

"After yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about you," you confessed, making sure your lips were close enough to his body as you spoke. You heard him inhale sharply, whispering something under his breath. "I couldn't focus on work at all. So today, I want to take care of you, completely."

You thought he would be satisfied with the offer; well, it was hard to deny that he was. Still, for some reason, he started shaking his head.

"N-no, that's not... I want to do it. Take care of you, I mean."

You couldn’t stop smiling, but at the same time, you weren’t about to back down, which should probably be enough to describe the dynamics of the following hours. 

At times, it was brutally slow, while at other moments, it was hurried and impressive. Sometimes, you interrupted each other constantly, unable to stop talking, and at other times, the only sound filling the room was your two breaths, the only constant, restless, and laced with moans and cries.

"You’re not leaving me tonight, right?" he asked, drawing closer to your body and holding you almost pleadingly. You laughed against his skin, shaking your head in denial.

 "At some point, I will have to. For about fifteen minutes, before everyone wakes up."

 "You’ll say you just came by for something. To ask a question or something," he tried to convince you.

 "Oh, at this early hour, looking like I’ve just done a two-hour workout? Derek would eat us alive. His eyebrow would never drop again. If I ever end up in hell, it will be with him there, looking at me like that." You tried to mimic his expression, tensing your jaw as you did.

"Stop, I feel harassed."

"You see? And if he found out about us, this is how the next... God, I can’t even predict when he’d get tired of it. Maybe in a year. Do you want to suffer for another whole year just to be with me for an extra fifteen minutes?"

 "I’d be able to survive that," he declared quietly, placing his hand under your head and playing with your hair with one of his fingers. "But if you don’t want it, I’m not going to waste time and try to convince you."

"Sure," you scoffed playfully. "So many things could be done in that time."

"Like what?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "Try to sleep. What were you hoping for?"

"Nothing, nothing. But you used a plural in that sentence and then only gave one thing. So, I’m waiting for the rest."

"That’s an overinterpretation."

"More like a simple analysis of sentence structure."

"Maybe sometimes it's better to analyze a little less. Spencer."

 "I don’t think I’m capable of that," he admitted, his tone a little more serious. You furrowed your brow, looking at his pale face in the weak light, showing signs of the night’s exhaustion. "That’s just how my brain works. It doesn’t give me much time to rest."

You often wondered what the world looked like from his perspective. How, in many ways, his genius was both a revelation and a curse. But you’d never heard him complain about it—until now. In fact, it wasn’t even a complaint, just a statement of fact, somewhat melancholy.

You kissed the top of his head, hoping it would have a soothing effect.

And indeed, it worked. He moved even closer to you, rested his head, and after a moment, almost at the same time, your eyelids fell.

*

The morning passed slowly and longingly, even though you were still so close to each other. However, there was the awareness that with the arrival of the day, you would have to wait many, many hours before you saw each other again. In a similar way, you meant. After all, at work, you constantly spent time together, which only made everything more difficult. It would have been much easier to push him out of your head and focus, if it weren’t for that.

Meanwhile, Spencer, perhaps trying to gently play on your nerves, cleaned his glasses much more often than necessary. But there was also the possibility that he was doing it the same amount as usual, and you were just imagining it.

"Are you doing that again?" Morgan nodded in his direction as a greeting when you were sitting in the guesthouse room that served as your team's meeting place. There was a long table in there, similar to the one in your office, but much narrower. Sitting across from Reid, you could easily touch his hand. If you wanted to. "Is this some new nervous tic of yours? Polishing them?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer furrowed his brow in mock surprise, stopping the corner of his mouth from twitching. You kicked him under the table, and he couldn’t suppress a gasp.

To hide your amusement, you covered your face with your hand, but Morgan immediately picked up on it.

"Is this some new inside joke of yours?"

"He’s literally just polishing his glasses, leave him alone," you said.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in the same way you had imitated him the night before. Neither of you could hold it in and burst into laughter.

"What’s going on?" JJ asked, walking into the room.

"Something very strange is going on," Derek announced mysteriously, staring at you both intently. His hands were resting on his hips, and his head tilted in thought. "Something very strange..."

Then Hotch arrived, even more serious than usual, which immediately dispelled the good mood. The rest of the team also arrived—Elle and Gideon—and everyone took their seats at the table.

"In the past few hours, there hasn’t been any concerning missing person reports," Hotch informed you. "On one hand, that’s good; on the other, it means the unsub will strike again soon. And we can’t let that happen."

"And you even have a plan," Gideon stated, with some sort of understanding in his eyes.

Hotch looked at you all with hesitation before nodding in confirmation.

"That's right, I have. I've concluded that we have no choice but to set a trap."

At those words, his gaze rested on Spencer, which was enough for you to figure it all out even before the main subject did.

"With all due respect, Hotch, have you lost your mind?!"

And how exactly do you envision this?" Elle asked, not as shaken as you but clearly concerned. "Sure, he fits the profile of his victims, but how is he supposed to set himself up? Walk around town and hope to get kidnapped?"

"At least two of the victims were abducted on the same stretch of road, after getting off the bus at the same isolated bus stop while walking home alone. It’s an exceptionally safe location for him," your boss explained.

"Honestly, I’m not convinced," Derek interjected, staring ahead with a furrowed brow. "I just don’t think he’d use the exact same spot again. Word has probably spread around the area that the FBI is on the case. He might be more cautious and change his methods."

"But he might just as well try again," JJ said quietly. You looked at her with clear surprise, as you had expected that, with her characteristic care for the team, she would be against the idea. "Right now, it’s the only thing we can do to try to prevent another abduction."

You drew a breath, understanding her arguments but remaining entirely opposed. Your gaze finally fell on Spencer, for the first time since the idea had even been brought up. He was sitting very upright, his brow furrowed, and he slowly began nodding.

"JJ’s right, it’s the only thing we can do," he said. He wasn’t looking at Hotch, nor even at the team as a whole—he was looking at you, directly and only at you. A calming, slightly nervous smile crossed his face, making you scoff. "Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’ll all be around, on the bus, near the stop."

With his words, the decision was made, and all you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

"I want to be on the same bus," you declared desperately, crossing your arms over your chest. You simply couldn’t reconcile with the fact that Spencer was willingly putting himself in harm's way—especially when the unsub's desire was to hurt people like him. "I’ll pose as a civilian. A random young woman. I shouldn’t seem like a threat, and someone from our team has to be inside."

"You’re right," Hotch replied, looking at you with sharp attention. "But it will be Elle."

You and your friend exchanged a confused look, startled by the firmness in his voice.

"I don’t think it makes much of a difference," she tried to intervene, which made you feel grateful.

Although, it didn’t change anything…

"I’m not obligated to explain myself to you about this decision, especially in front of the entire team. This is an order," Hotch announced with almost brutal professionalism. "The only thing I can say is that we need someone who won’t break character until the very end. Someone who won’t let emotions cloud their judgment."

"Are you sure you’re up for this?" Gideon asked, directing the question at Spencer. His tone was understanding, prepared to accept any refusal without judgment.

This time, he didn’t look at you. As Spencer nodded in confirmation, he actually avoided your gaze.

"Then we have the whole day to prepare for the sting. Let’s hope this leads to catching the unsub," Hotch concluded the meeting, signaling that you could leave the table.

You were torn between staying and screaming at your boss or leaving the room after Reid. Well, the second option wouldn’t get you fired. And, honestly, it seemed like the better choice. It turned out he wanted to talk to you too, as he was clearly waiting for you in the narrow hallway of the inn, where animal antlers hung on the walls and an informational board about moose was displayed.

"Are you angry because I want to do this?" he asked, the narrow walls around you making you stand quite close. Well, not as close as you could be, but close enough to add gravity to the conversation and allow you to study his face carefully.

Especially his determination. The determination for this job, for solving the case, and for preventing others from suffering the same tragic fate at the hands of this killer. Finally, you understood that your reaction was a bit irrational. Because if the victims were young women with your looks... you’d agree to it without hesitation. Some hypocrisy, huh?

"No. I'm just terrified that you're going to do this," you confessed, your honesty and concern making his face twitch in surprise. You snorted, trying to ease the tension. "I’m angry at Hotch for calling me emotionally unstable in front of all of you."

Spencer smiled gently, though there was stress hiding behind it. He may have been determined to go through with it, but that didn’t change the fact that there was fear accompanying him. He tried not to show it, but anyone in his position would feel it.

"Well, in his defense, he phrased it a bit more subtly."

You let out a soft laugh, stretching your arm out to gently touch his forearm. As your hand slid up, you leaned in a little, the simple gesture helping you feel more grounded and at ease.

His gaze followed your movements with a gentle satisfaction. You didn’t pull him closer, you were simply stroking his arm in that easy, caring way that calmed both of you.

"You’ve never done this before, have you?" you asked quietly. "You’ve never put yourself in this position like this."

He shook his head in denial.

"I’m really... really worried that I’ll do something wrong and we won’t be able to catch him because of me."

"You should worry about yourself, Spencer. Not about that. I’m sure you’ll play your part better than anyone could. "But I really regret that I won’t be able to be right next to you, in case something goes wrong."

His lips parted and closed in a kind of... amusement?

"I was going to say that maybe Hotch could be convinced, but then I realized, no, he won’t be. No matter what you say. And besides, having you there wouldn’t let me focus fully."

"I’m aware of that," you joked, tossing your hair dramatically. "After all, I look stunning."

"I was more referring to the fact that I’d be focused only on making sure nothing happens to you, but yeah. That’s one of the reasons too."

You fell silent, oddly moved by that confession. It was so simple, driven by care, affectionate. And it definitely made your head spin in the context of your relationship. You shook your head, pulling yourself away from those thoughts. As long as you were in Alaska, you could afford anything. After that, who knows.

You swallowed and put on a playful expression, it came with some effort, but you managed.

"Okay, genius-boy. Let me prepare you. You need to know how to behave."

"I thought I was just supposed to be myself," he noted, letting you pull him by the wrist.

"Well, mostly, yes. But it's still better to rehearse, get you into character. Don't you have any random fun facts to share?"

"I always have some fun facts to share. An endless amount."

"We'll see."

For the rest of the day, up until the inevitable moment of setting the trap for the unsub, you listened carefully to everything he had to say. His constant chatter allowed him to occupy his mind, pushing the stress aside to the point that, when it was time for him to head to the designated location, he seemed almost surprised that the hour had come. Only then did certain shadows begin to cross his face.

You paced restlessly around the inn as the whole team prepared. Your task was to take a position with Gideon at a certain distance from the bus stop, to cut off the unsub's escape route if necessary. The bus driver had agreed to cooperate, and JJ was giving him instructions, asking him to act as naturally as possible. There were to be no civilians on board, only Elle and a few inconspicuous local police officers. Hotch and JJ planned to follow the bus from a distance by car. Morgan was to lay low at the bus stop, also posing as a civilian.

You moved closer to Spencer, breathing heavily, his presence alone calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him just before you were about to leave. Morgan gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and everyone was still gathered around you. You gently hugged him, just as any other friend would, just like Elle and JJ had moments before.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned with appearances. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head in a strong, lingering embrace.

“Y/N, you and Gideon need to go now," Hotch interrupted.

As you were walking away, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he also gave Reid a brief squeeze on the shoulder.

It was a truly tense moment. You found yourself in a position where you had no visibility on what was happening inside the bus, nor could you gauge the gravity of the situation. All you could hear through the earpiece was Elle's whispered signal informing you that the suspect, fitting the profile, had just entered the vehicle.

And even though you didn’t have high hopes for the plan, everything unfolded exactly as it was meant to. Spencer exited the bus, and the unsub followed him. The suspect seemed intent on tracking him down that desolate, shadowy road, planning to attack and abduct him. But at the last moment, Reid turned, and before the man could react, he was surrounded by the police.

On your last night in Alaska, you found yourself on top, with his head resting against the headboard of the bed, his hands placed on your hips, and in a position where you could look at each other and talk.

"You really did great today," you praised, leaning in to gently kiss his collarbone.

He didn't seem flattered by your words, no smile on his lips, just that sad, aching expression that caused you pain. Wanting to shake off the feeling, you quickened your movements, hoping it would work, but then he tightened his embrace, making you slow down once again.

"I want... I want to enjoy you," he said with a slightly embarrassed tone, his fingers tracing restless, tender circles on your bare skin. "Since this is our last time together."

For a moment, he gazed at your face, as if hoping you would say something. But he couldn't find any trace in your expression that would suggest you had changed your mind. The small, naive spark in his eyes faded. Elle's words about breaking the cycle echoed in your mind, but not in your heart. You couldn't turn them into reality; you simply couldn't. The agreement remained the agreement.

Once you returned, everything would go back to how it was before.

another author's note: I plan to create a tag list and I want to know who among you would like to be on it. please, let me know in the comments.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny can i order banana bread with hard lemonade with max please. make it spicy. make it nasty. make it sloppy. make it fucking filthy😩😩 i fucking love you and all your works and i trust you with baking and cooking

the bakery menu

want to order something? then browse the menu to see what we have! as for this order, i hope that there's enough spice in this for you! i ended up writing this a little stoned, so i hope everything turned out okay!!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

cw: smut/pwp, possessive behavior, recreational drug use (weed), reference to smoking & drinking, dom!max, counter/kitchen sex, high sex

you liked parties. maybe, not all the time. but once in a while there was nothing like being surrounded by people and drinking the night away before you slinked off to bed to nurse the eventual hangover. max didn't mind that you went out partying. he trusted you to not do anything extremely stupid that would hurt you or your relationship.

there was one rule, no hard drugs. neither of you needed the trouble that came with too much of a mind altering substance. even if he let you go out to party, he still worried about you when he couldn't go with you. so for your best interest, no drugs.

but there you were, seated on top of the counter in max's kitchen while he dutifully made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. you were still in your party clothes with one of his expensive jackets around your shoulders. you claimed that you were cold. you kicked your legs against the cabinets under you.

you giggled a little.

he handed it to you on a plate and said, "eat." before he grabbed a (plastic) cup from the cupboard above the sink and filled it full of water. he handed it to you, "drink. slowly." then rested against the counter, keeping a stern eye on you.

his blue eyes were piercing as he made sure that you did what he said. you already caused enough trouble tonight. from what your friends told him when they brought you home, you had a few too many puffs of a joint. max didn't think that weed was the devil, but he didn't want you doing anything reckless without him.

as a result he had his very stoned girlfriend seated on the counter and happily eat a pb&j sandwich. he then got closer and rubbed your bare knee. he leaned in and licked a speck of jelly on the corner of your mouth.

he said softly, "you have to be a good girl for me. listen and behave. i know it's tempting to want to be like the others, but i need to keep you safe. what would happen if you took too much and someone tried to hurt you?" he kissed you on the lips, tasting the sweetness of your late night snack on your lips.

"i was fine, maxie." you beamed as you felt his kisses pepper your face. you giggled and squirmed, it was cute. you only called him maxie when you were very intoxicated.

he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut as he touched your arms. you looked so good in his clothes. maybe next time you go out, he'll make you wear a little reminder of him.

"my poor treasure.' he said, "you just have to be the life of the party. now, is there anything else you took?"

you shook your head, "nope. nothing else, i promise. i felt too giggly after the joint and then i ended up back home. but, honestly, maxie... i want you."

he chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair, "oh i bet. i bet you thought about me on the ride home. you thought about my cock inside of you, i bet if left to your own devices you would've made a mess of the seat of your friend's car." he pushed up the skirt of the 'slutty' dress you wore that night.

you blushed and wanted to hide your face, which only made max chuckle. he pushed the skirt up further until your pretty blue underwear was on display for him.

he licked his lips, "tell me when to stop." he wanted to make sure that you weren't too high to know what was going on. he wasn't a monster.

you nodded and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. you said softly, "give it all to me, maxie." and kissed his ear before you fell apart in giggles. you leaned up against the cabinets and let max take off your panties. he left them dangling on your left ankle.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said honestly, he briefly looked to you and licked his lips.

you watched him take his cock out of his sweatpants, he could see you were already so hot all over. he spread your legs further as he got closer in between them.

his cock was decently sized, nothing to be scared of. nothing that would hurt you if he tried to jam it in. you knew the fantasy was a large cock, but you had you heard stories of bruised cervixes that max was just the right fit for you.

he braced his hands on either side of you on the counter as he slid his cock into your sweet pussy. it wasn't a painfully slow insertion, but when he got his cock to the root. he felt a sense of relief at the feeling of you.

he kissed at your face as he thrusted in and out of you. the tip barely out before he slid back in. he groaned through the kisses that he peppered your face with.

"mmm, that's it." he said, "you feel so good, my treasure. how's that head of yours?" he asked as he thrusted up into you harder. it was quick and hard rhythm.

you felt on cloud nine, with the two shots of vodka, all that weed and now the heightened feeling of having sex all made your head race with thoughts of nothing. everything kind of blended together in your mind.

you held onto his shoulders, your fists tied up in the shoulders of his white t-shirt. you were breathing heavily and felt your core throb. you whined, "max, ah. fuck. i couldn't stop thinking about you on the ride home. i was so fuckin' horny." you whined.

you got horny when you smoked, most would devour a pizza. you'd do that with ease but also want to be fucked until you were a fucked out pile of goo on the bed until you reformed into a human in the morning.

"oh yeah, did you look at photos of me?"

"yes, maxie." you purred.

"were they safe photos?" he asked as he leaned even more up against you. letting him get even closer to you. as if he wasn't already in your personal space.

you giggled, "of course! i didn't want to show my friends what you're packing down there." you had an assortment of nudes from him as he did for you.

he kissed at the nape of your neck, your thighs tightened around his waist as he bullied his cock into you. you were perfect like this, submissive like a little lamb. he chuckled, "good, don't want to cause an incident."

he continued to fuck you on top of the granite countertop in the kitchen. his thrusts were fast and it made you moan loudly against him. you felt your heart thump wildly in your chest.

it all felt so good. you clutched onto his t-shirt as he fucked you rapidly, "please, maxie."

"cum for me, treasure. i know you need it." he whispered in your ear as he continued to move.

you kicked out your legs a little as you came, your noise was high pitched but yet so sweet. it was painfully cute when you did it. it made him hot all over. you felt painfully good.

"good girl."

you held onto him tightly as he battered your pussy with a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you. you panted against his shoulder and clung to him tightly.

he said sweet nothings to you both in english and dutch which made you feel like jelly. you leaned up against him as he finished inside of you with a rough groan.

"my treasure." he purred as he slowed down to a stop. he held you for a moment, feeling your heavy breathing against his shoulder.

"maxie." you purred, still hot all over. the weed was still in your system.

he pulled out of you and tucked his cock back into his sweatpants. he admired the bit of cum that leaked out of your poor cunt. it eased any possessiveness in his mind, relaxed him that he was able to make his beloved girlfriend feel good.

"c'mon, finish that water and we'll get you to bed." he patted your thigh before he pulled your pretty panties back up over your hips.

you nodded softly before you carefully got a hold of the cup and finished the rest of the water quickly. you could be good, for once!

-

the following week, max was being nice and helping you put your strappy sandals before you went out for the evening with some of the other partners of drivers.

when he got up from the floor, he reached over down the couch and grabbed a windbreaker jacket with his team, name and number on it. he put it on you before he zipped it up to the top, effectively hiding the suggestive outfit you were wearing.

he patted your shoulders and kissed your forehead before he said, "there, perfect. now remember, no drugs. okay?" he kissed you again, "you're going to be good for me?"

you nodded, "always max. but i am tempted to be bad again. if that means you'll fuck me on the counter again."

max smiled as he tapped your nose, his face close to you, "next time i won't be so generous. if you come home to me high again, i'm not going to be as nice."

you smiled at him, "then i'll be good then." you got up from the couch and embraced your boyfriend. you gave him a kiss on the cheek and felt safe in his arms for a moment, "no weed, no nothing."

"good, that's what i like to hear. now you for have fun, treasure." he kissed your cheek. he walked you to the front door before he saw you out. when he closed the door once you left, he palmed himself through his sweatpants at the thought of you.

he walked to the bedroom and searched in the back of the closet. he pulled out a pair of leather cuffs and a blindfold. he walked back to the bed casually and placed them down softly.

just in case you decided to misbehave again <3

[hauntingrabbits]

More Batman/My Little Pony au art because these are ridiculously fun to draw. Part 3 here! Part 1 here!

More info under the cut!

1. Sweet Talk/The Harlequin (Harleen Quinzel)

Originally contracted to work as a psychiatrist for the Tartarus villain redemption program, Sweet Talk had a unique relationship with the Joker. This relationship was proven to be even stranger than her coworkers had originally assumed when she broke him out and joined him in his life of crime.

Devoting herself entirely to her new life and relationship with the joker, she covers her original cutie mark at all times. Snce her horn was snapped she can no longer cast precise spells, leaving her magic mostly emotion-based and intensely volatile, (typically manifesting in the form of sparks, zaps, and explosions).

Other Notes:

-Using Tartarus as a substitute for Arkham Asylum for this au because why not.

-The villain redemption program did NOT go well. Sorry Twilight.

-Mostly based on BTAS Harley because I adore the original costume.

-Her horn was cracked by the Joker

2. Pudding Pie/The Joker (The Joker)

Batpony’s most notorious foe. Said to have been just a regular pony until he fell into a vat at an Ace Potions factory during a conflict with Batpony.

He doesn’t have a Cutie Mark, but it’s unclear whether this was always the case or instead a result of his accident. The effects of permanent Cutie Mark loss—the only known cases of which occurred via long-banned magic and/or traumatic injury—are largely unstudied, and it’s ramifications are unknown. Some ponies theorize this may be the reason for the Joker’s mental state and general disposition.  

Sundown has a different opinion on the matter.

Other notes:

-Based mostly on BTAS joker and the ‘89 Nicholson joker.

-His name is just based on Harley’s “pudding” nickname for in in a lot of versions, but I think it would also be hilarious if he was a distant relative of Pinkie Pie.

-I could leave it ambiguous but. Yeah the potion vat didn’t actually do anything beyond slightly altering his physical appearance. He’s just like that and he never got a cutie mark in the first place.

3. Gadiel/Scarecrow (Jonathan Crane)

Raised among ponies, Gadiel was relentlessly bullied for being gangly and birdish, earning him the nickname “Scarecrow” in his youth. Though he later successfully became a professor and psychologist in Gotham, Gadiel was eventually fired when he was found to be testing his fear-inducing potions on his students and purposefully putting them through terrifying and dangerous situations. Deciding to take his experiments to the masses, Gadiel donned the mantle of Scarecrow and weaponized fear to become a career criminal.

As the Scarecrow, he’s known for his skill in manipulation, psychological torture, and crafting dangerous potions and gas. The effects of fear on magical creatures are unique and intense, much to Gadiel’s delight and interest.

Other Notes:

-I wanted to make his front half a crane but I couldn’t get the long neck to work right with the mask, so he’s more crow-like instead.

-according to the wiki 1/3 of Griffin names start with a G so naturally I was extremely tempted to name him Gonathon and you should all be very grateful I did not. The name Gadiel has origins in the bible as the name of an archangel which I thought was fitting given the insane religious trauma some versions of the scarecrow went through. I thought about trying to do something similar for this version but given that the mlp universe uses Princess Celestia as a replacement for God in expressions like “Celestia knows where” and “Oh my Celestia” I wasn’t really sure how to go about it. There’s probably some kind of sun-worshipping thing in equestria idk.

-I spent a long time on the mlp wiki but from what I could find the only “fear” magic in the show is just used by one guy and its just called “dark magic”. I thought for sure there would’ve been some random plant or magical creature they dealt with at some point that maybe did something similar I could use for his blurb but unfortunately there was not.

4. Mandible/Falseface (Basil Karlo/Matt Hagen)

Hungry and deeply resentful of the changeling queen for forcing her underlings to share what little stolen love they had with her, Mandible went rogue early on and split off from the hive to pursue his own ventures. Finding success under the name Claypose as a pony actor in Gotham, he was sustained primarily by the one-sided love of his fans for years, despite the false identity having no real prior personal relationships to leech from. 

After a magical special effects accident on set revealed his true nature, he went into hiding and immediately started crafting a new persona, but soon found in his distress and rage over losing his identity as Claypose that he could no longer sustain any disguise long enough to keep up a long-term facade. Blaming the accident, he targeted the unicorn responsible by posing as his wife to leech his love, but ended up killing the pony in a panic when his disguise failed much faster than he’d anticipated it would. Unable to keep up a new identity or return to the hive, Mandible turned to a life of crime instead, doing dirty work for the bigger criminal names in Gotham and leeching love from his employer’s targets to survive.

Other notes:

-Clayface being a changeling was an obvious pick given his power set but I really wasn’t sure how to tackle the main issue of him being unable to keep a solid form for long. I went with his distress and frustration being the main thing keeping his disguise flimsy (so he gets put in kind of an ourobouros cycle where his disguise being bad makes him upset but him being upset makes it harder to fix his disguise), but the magic accident probably also contributed somehow.

-Why are all the changelings straight up just named after body parts in this show whats that about. The “Clay” in Claypose is obviously a reference to his title/schtick in the comics while the “pose” comes from both his job as an actor and the fact that he’s posing as a pony. Mandible is the name for the jaw part of an insect.

-there's actually an entirely different batman villain called falseface in the '66 series (…and another in the comics apparently, whoops) but I couldn't come up with anything better. Changeface just does not roll off the tongue.

3. Winglon/Killer Drake (Waylon Jones)

Originally intended to be used in an entrance exam, his egg was stolen from a Canterlot delivery cart on its way to Celestia’s school of magic and sold on the black market to a Pony Island circus. Raised to be part of the freak show, Winglon was pitted against circus performers and overconfident challengers in ring fights for money and entertainment. Enduring abuse and injury throughout his life from ponies that he was always fundamentally stronger than, it was only a matter of time until he snapped. Garnering the name Killer Drake for his actions, Winglon escaped into the Gotham sewer system.

Not knowing how to return to the dragonlands or whether he’d even fit into dragon society at all, he continues to lurk in the dark away from any life, deeply resenting ponies and all other manner of magical creatures that make friends with them.

Other notes:

-I like silly names ok. Winglon Jones. -I like the theory that the dragon egg used for Twilight’s entrance exam was actually fake/meant to be a no-win scenario, but I also don’t think it would be that hard for enterprising ponies to get their hands on dragon eggs. The practice probably stopped in the later seasons when they made friends with the dragonlands or whatever though.

-Given that dragons threaten to eat or kill ponies at multiple points in the show, the cannibalism is actually kind of understandable. And also not even cannibalism anymore. Still murder though.

[14dayswithyou]

I'm sorry if this already been answered but I swear I couldn't find if... I'm curious how would enraged Ren(dacted) look like? Like we've seen him a little pissed off but that's pretty much it. How would he(both versions) react if mc did something REALLY unsavory? Or other people who are not potential murder targets (like completelly unrelated to mc, just pissed him off personally and are not worth making his hands dirty). Would he yell? Would he just suck it up? Retaliate somehow? Throw a punch? I know he wouldn't hurt our mc but still he seems like quite an irritable fella, even his Renren mask can't hide it lol Also how does he behave when eleminating targets? Like is he the *laughing maniacly* type of yandere or the ice cold and silent type? Would he have a long talk with the target telling them just how wrong they were? Play a little game maybe? Or would he just quickly do the deed and forget about it? Also...why the sledgehammer?? Looks cool and all but it's not the handiest murder weapon out there... Are there any lore reasons for it?

✦゜ANSWERED: cw: mentions of gore, torture, murder, and similar themes. Also not proofread because I'm on mobile and formatting is p a i n T_T

I've mentioned this a few times before, but [REDACTED] is an extremely patient guy. It'd take a lot to make them feel genuinely pissed off — but even then — they're eerily cold and apathetic, which might result in zero reaction out of them. Because they're so apathetic, there's nothing stopping [REDACTED] from just offing the person who's annoying them and continuing on with his day.

I think the only thing that'd elicit a genuine reaction out of them is if someone killed Angel. But obviously this is ignoring the fact that [REDACTED] will only respond emotionally to Angel and no one else. He would genuinely start tearing up if Angel cupped his cheek and told him that they truly loved him.

[REDACTED] is also very unfazed when eliminating their targets. There's hardly any emotion shown on his face outside of an occasional smug or triumphant smirk — but most of the time — it's nothing more than an unsparing glean in their eyes. If [REDACTED] went through with their red room days, they would most likely play up an online persona to make themself seem more interesting to their viewers (all whilst he tortures his victims). So... I guess his behaviour is very dependent on what the situation is and what it calls for.

[REDACTED] is a genuinely apathetic person (if it doesn't involve Angel), though he'll put on a persona if it's necessary.

As for the sledgehammer; Ren is 6'5" (personally) and has a sleeper build. He's more than capable of swinging it around like it weighs nothing, using it as a barricade to lock his victims in a room, break their limbs and stop them from running, or just make himself look scarier just by dragging a bloodied weapon across the floor. [REDACTED] also frequents rage rooms, so he's accustomed to swinging around a sledgehammer than, say, a gun or knife.

I've also mentioned this before, but Ren can do more damage to someone with a phone or laptop than a sledgehammer!!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What are your thoughts on the possibility of Petunia redeeming herself or atoning for her abuse of Harry? This is more ramblings and musing then coherent ask, sorry.

You mentioned in a previous post that while she might not love him, she is concerned for her nephew’s safety - as well as that her emotions towards Harry are quite complex (similarly to her emotions towards and relationship with Lily, post-magic revelation).

There are many fics where Petunia does eventually break the cycle of abuse she and Vernon perpetuate on Harry (but usually this is the result of either divorcing Vernon or her husband outright dying), but I’m kind of curious as to what you think in your analysis of her character.

Petunia is a tough nut to crack for me when it comes to fics where she is redeemed.

At the very least, the extreme neglect and enforced silence that Harry is raised in just…it’s terrible when you look at it more deeply than the early books intend.

Which is made worse still by later on, when she swings a frying pan at his head (Chamber of Secrets, I think?).

In the first books, I get that as the target audience was young kids, not much gravitas was placed in Harry’s treatment in the hands of the Dursley’s - they were the bad family he escaped into the magical world from, the anti-thesis to the Weasley family later, meant to seem more caricature and buffoonish.

If that frying pan had hit Harry, though? Depending on how hard Petunia swung it, no matter that she was concerned for Dudley (after Harry didn’t even use magic, just pretended to), that could have killed him.

We know Dudley beat Harry quite often with his friends, and Vernon at the very least threatened to do so (and from some of Harry’s lines, likely went through with said threats at times), but little about Petunia’s abuse of Harry is mentioned except in the very early books - her shaving his hair except for his bangs for example, leaving him to go to school mortified - so there’s no indication that she regularly threatened him physically over the emotional abuse, but still.

Not to mention the potential for neglect/abuse that Petunia herself went through, Lily being their parent’s favored child over her, how that in turn also affected her relationship with her sister, and then how that is turned on to Harry…

Petunia’s character, and redemption/atonement for Harry’s abuse is such an interesting concept.

Personally, I was never interested in a Petunia redemption arc. I think she's just as bad, if not worse than Vernon. So I'm going to have to disagree with you.

It's not that Petunia's sitting there feeling bad about how she and Vernon treat Harry and wish she could stop it — she doesn't. It's very clear throughout the books that she isn't remorseful at all.

Her feelings about Harry are complex because Harry is Lily's son. And as bitter and jealous as Petunia is, I think, she used to love her sister. Used to even be protective of her. So, deep down, I don't think she wants Harry dead or seriously hurt (to her standard), but at the same time, she feels justified in hurting him and treating him as subhuman.

See, Vernon truly does hate wizards. He fears magic, he loves normalcy, and he despises the "freaks" that essentially represent everything he hates. He's straightforward and completely honest in his approach.

The reason I sometimes consider Petunia worse, is becouse she isn't honest, she's a fucking hypocrite.

She wanted to be a witch. She wanted to be special and go to wizard school like Lily. She was jealous of Lily that she got to do magic and go to Hogwarts.

Petunia started calling wizards freaks and latched onto normalcy as a way to cope with not being special. I mean, she was told that magic exists, that there's a whole special world of magic out there, but that she isn't special enough to become part of it.

So young Petunia coped by going in the opposite direction. She became as normal as can be. Started claiming anyone special was a "freak" even when deep down she fucking knows that if she got a chance she'd leave and go to Hogwarts in a heartbeat. That deep down she wants to be special.

She transferred that jealousness and bitterness, then toward the wizarding world as a whole onto Harry personally, which is so unfair. Like, I find it disgusting, I find it disgusting how righteous she feels treating him the way they do. She is very similar to Snape in this regard (projecting her problems with Harry's parent onto Harry), just without any of the redeeming qualities since she isn't even all that smart, and she wouldn't give a shit if all her neighbors died one day (Snape would). And Snape was better to Harry than Petunia, let's be real, being an ass to a kid is not the same as starving a kid and locking him in a cupboard.

But I do want to point out, that she doesn't have the excuse of a cycle of abuse (I'm saying excuse because that's what it is. Tragic backstory can be used to explain characters' actions but it doesn't absolve them) becouse Petunia wasn't abused or particularly neglected. We have no indication she was, and I think it's more likey she was treated well.

We're told their parents loved having a witch in the house by Petunia in PS, but when we see Snape's memories, apparently their parents urged a pre-Hogwarts Lily not to do magic. They feared it until it was explained to them. Petunia is biased in what she says. Because while they were supportive of Lily once they understood, I don't believe they ever mistreated Petunia, and I don't think she is meant to be read as neglected.

I mean, Lily wasn't even home most of the year, Petunia was getting all of their parents' attention year-round, and during the breaks, they probably dotted on Lily because they hadn't seen her in months. This isn't neglect or abuse. This is Petunia being a petulant child who didn't get to be showered in attention all the time because her parents wanted to hear from the daughter they only got to see, like, 3 months a year.

I don't think either Lily or Petunia were abused or neglected, and I find it somewhat silly to try and justify Petunia by giving her a tragic backstory when the books make her reasons to hate Harry very clear. These being jealousy and pettiness.

So, I'm not interested in a redemption arc or atonement arc for Petunia or Vernon for that matter. I think neither of them deserves it and the only atonement I'd be interested in for them is a prison sentence for child abuse and neglect.

Yes, Petunia may not beat Harry physically as often as Vernon or Dudley, but she lets them. She watched him be chased by Marge's dog and laughed. She approved of Vernon's and Dudley's treatment of Harry because if she didn't, she wouldn't have let it happen. She stopped Vernon from throwing Harry out of the house when Dumbledore sent a threatening letter to her in OotP; if she cared to stop the abuse she didn't actively participate in herself, she had the power to do so, but didn't. Becouse she thought Harry deserved it. She mistreated him just as much. Looking at him with disgust and scorn and calling him a freak is abuse. Starving and locking him up is abuse. She isn't any better than Vernon.

The only Dursley I can see redeemed is Dudley. He started his journey in the books (btw, in that scene, Petunia thinks Dudley is "too sweet" for telling Harry he isn't a waste of space) and he actually was a child, like Harry. He did what his parents did like every child does. But he shows signs of improvement after Harry saves him from the dementors. He realizes his parents are full of shit.

So, yeah, Dudley is the only Dursley I'm interested in a redemption for. Petunia and Vernon deserve a prison sentence.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Player Number Forty-Four

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Baseball Player!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Tittyfucking, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sitting amongst thousands of baseball fanatics makes you realize one thing: You fucking hate this sport. You don’t get the point, you don’t know what’s happening half of the time. Maybe you’re just refusing to get the point because you didn’t want to come here in the first place. You were dragged here by a friend who got some last minute tickets– She claimed she got the best possible seats for a low price, and her date canceled on her. She didn’t want to come alone, and now you’re watching the game from what you assume is a great seat.

Too bad for you, you don’t understand much of what’s happening. You’re yawning in boredom because there’s not one interesting thing catching your attention. Baseball just isn’t the sport for you, you much rather would’ve liked sitting in the stadium for any other sport. Maybe soccer or tennis. 

You’re just watching Shoko sip on her beer, occasionally yelling but overall, her team seems to be doing well; you wouldn’t know if they weren’t doing well. She’s dressed just as you expected. She wears a jersey for the team that she’s supporting, the “Demon Dogs” (You found the name so fucking funny), and jeans.

“Shoko, when does the game end?” You ask, but she isn’t paying attention to you. Her eyes are staring at the pitcher that’s walking to the pitcher’s mound, and you watch her expression change. The back of her hand is slapping your collar bone, her eyes widening. Your eyebrows are furrowing as you look at her, extremely confused. “What the hell is up?”

“They’re bringing in Fushiguro.” Shoko informs you, but you have a big issue… You have no idea who Fushiguro is. You assume it’s the pitcher that spits onto the dirt as he walks to the pitcher’s mound that is outlined with a white circle. You blink slowly, getting her hand off you. You slightly shake your head, raising your eyebrows.

“I have no idea who he is.” You end up chuckling. It’s the man that’s about to pitch, you don’t know why she’s upset. The man that holds the baseball mitt is certainly a sight for sore eyes. At least from this distance. You just know that you nearly cry when his back is turned to you, leaving you to look at the number forty-four that’s on his jersey. 

“He’s their best pitcher. Maybe the best pitcher in the whole league.” Shoko answers. The little hope that the team that she’s rooting for would win, is now completely gone. Her arms are crossed and her lips are now pouty. “Probably were testing the waters with a new pitcher since Fushiguro can’t play forever… But that clearly didn’t work.”

“What was even happening?” You question, and she tries to explain how awful the first pitcher was: throwing bad pitches, which kept resulting in balls– You didn’t quite grasp the concept. You were too scared to ask anyway. You watch as the man turns his body forty-five degrees, raising his left leg before he throws the ball, and your eyes widen because that’s the fastest you’ve seen a ball travel. You hear Shoko huff, probably accepting that her team is going to lose. It happens two more times until the player is finally out, and another one walks up. “I’m no genius but you were right about Fushiguro.”

“I hate him.” Shoko rolls her eyes, causing you to laugh. You certainly don’t feel the same. You throw your arm over her and then lay your head on hers. 

“Why don’t you root for the better team? I think they’re selling their jerseys.” You joke, and she pushes you away. Before your conversation is over, Fushiguro has striked out another player.

“Why don’t you buy a jersey for that other team since you’re clearly rooting for them.” She says, and you’re nearly about to get up to do what she tells you. You feel awkward since you’re wearing a tank top and a push up bra, so you’ve definitely been getting stares. 

“I just might.” You answer. You almost miss the moment where the batter finally hits the fast ball, if you hadn’t paid attention, Shoko wouldn’t have gotten up to catch it and she would’ve gone home with a bump and bruise on her head– Or, the more likely outcome, someone else would’ve caught it. There’s a grin on her face as the batter runs from home, goes through all bases, and returns, without a sweat, back to the home base. 

She shows off the ball and hands it to you. You examine the ball before turning your attention to her. She looks smug before she tilts her head and asks, “Think you might change your mind?”

“Does your team have handsome players like Fushiguro?” You respond before you turn your attention back to the field. She taps your shoulder and then points at the player who just hit the homerun. He doesn’t look that bad, but you’re not too close so you can see him

“Don’t you think he looks good? He does have a girlfriend but–” She begins, and you roll your eyes. You block her out, watching the game at hand. You watch how Fushiguro does the same thing again, and even though you were expecting to see the ball move ridiculously fast, this time it seems like it curves. The batter hits it though, and it makes Shoko grip to her seat with a smile coming to her face. She shuts up about what she was talking about, but before the ball even hits the ground, it’s in Fushiguro’s hand. You almost laugh at how Shoko’s expression changes. She ends up sighing before saying, “Oh yeah, I was saying I wanted to fuck his girlfriend.”

“Who? Fushiguro’s?” You ask, making her click her tongue. She doesn’t bother reiterating, so you’re left clueless. You don’t care all that much either. You keep watching until Shoko’s team is on the pitching side and your Fushiguro’s team is on the batting side. You lose focus when you don’t see the man that you’re rooting for up there and batting. The man that’s pitching is the same man that Shoko was talking to you about earlier. What makes him stand out is his head of white hair. “How long is this game?”

“Why are you in a rush to leave?” Shoko sounds offended as she asks the question. You can’t even believe it because you thought you had made it obvious how you weren’t into the game at all. She doesn’t seem to pick up the cues though.

“I want him to sign the ball.” You keep it brief, and you assume that she immediately knows who it is. The same man that you’ve been talking about the past couple minutes. It amazes you how Shoko can sometimes… Completely miss the point.

“Who? Gojo?” She replies, and you exhale, holding back your laughter. You don’t even have an idea who Gojo is, but you assume it’s the pitcher, the one who hit the homerun. You shake your head.

“Fushiguro.” You answer, and she rolls her eyes.

“He didn’t even hit that ball.” She reminds you, but you so clearly don’t care. Before you can defend yourself she points to the field and informs you, “Speak of the devil, he’s coming up to bat.”

That’s what makes your eyes go to the field again, and then to the big screen that displays the field and allows you to look at the game better. Fushiguro’s brows are furrowed, his lips downturned as his eyes focus on the pitcher. You don’t care about his stance– Or maybe you do when you notice how big and muscular his arms are. Maybe you understand why people become fanatics of this boring sport because if you were to see a man like Fushiguro in every game, you’d devote yourself to the sport. 

Fushiguro gets a strike, and you almost groan disappointedly. You’re not into the game enough to actually express any sort of disappointment though. If he loses, he loses. He won’t stop being hot. But the second time around, Fushiguro hits the ball and almost knocks it out of the field. It makes you turn to Shoko and ask, “Do you know what his type is?”

“Why would I keep up with that loser?” Shoko responds, and sometimes she makes it so painfully clear that she’s into women. You try to keep up with the rest of the inning, but it’s hard when all the attention isn’t on Fushiguro. You attempt to speak with Shoko but she’s focused on the game, probably praying that a miracle will happen for her team. You have a couple comments about Fushiguro but it’s best if you don’t share. They’re too vulgar to share right now. 

You don’t even notice a break begin, until Shoko begins to talk more, focusing her attention on you. “I heard he’s a deadbeat. Some shit like that. He has a twelve year old son and according to the mom–”

“I don’t want a relationship with him, I just want to fuck him.” You cut her off. You really don’t want her to ruin your source of entertainment tonight. Once you know that Fushiguro is a horrible person, you won’t find him as hot while he plays. You feel ashamed for admitting that out loud so you try to correct yourself, even when Shoko knows what you mean. “I mean… I just don’t need to know all that about him.”

“Of course you– Oh my god, you’re on the kiss cam.” Shoko points out, and you look at the big screen to find yourself there, with the guy that sits next to you. He’s awkward, unsure of how to approach the situation. He looks like he wants to kiss you… But you don’t want to kiss him. Maybe it makes you shallow but you’re not kissing a random stranger because he has a great personality. He just isn’t your type. 

“Save me Shoko…” You mutter, and she laughs before her hands cup your face and she pulls your head in. Her lips meet yours, and just as her tongue swipes over your bottom lip, she pulls away with a smile on her face. You end up chuckling, before thanking her.

You keep your eye on the field, watching player number forty-four closely. Fushiguro is the real star in all of this. He apparently seems to be doing well in his field, but you consider him the star simply because he looks so damn good. You keep your eye on him until the game ends. 

Shoko is clearly mad at the fact that her team lost, and as the great friend that you are, you begin to comfort her until you remember your great idea. This is the only opportunity to do it, after all, you doubt that after this you’ll find Fushiguro again. This isn’t their home town, and you’re not putting yourself through the torture of sitting through another baseball game in the upcoming season just to get his signature… or well, to get him to notice you. You can comfort Shoko some other time, either way, she’s a sore loser so nothing you do will bring her spirits up.

You still have the ball in hand, and you get up from your seat and run down– Admittedly pushing some people out of the way, until the railing stops you so you can’t go further. Fushiguro is walking to the dugout, baseball mitt under his armpit, wiping the sweat on his chin with his shirt. He won’t notice you if you just stand there, especially since people are walking behind you. You yell his name as loud as you can, and it causes his eyes to dart your way. You show off the ball that’s in your hand and he walks over to you. 

“Do you have a marker?” He asks, and you feel your face get warm as your brain processes the question. Of course not, you weren’t planning on getting anything signed. You bite down on your lips before you shake your head. He ends up chuckling before he yells, “Kong! Get me a marker!”

“You were really good out there.” You comment, slightly tilting your head, giving him a sweet smile. Fushiguro knows that look in your eyes– Well, he thought he did because he’s pretty sure you’re into chicks. He saw you kiss that girlfriend of yours or whatever… He can still do some harmless flirting. He smirks at you, and he’s so focused on you that he nearly misses the marker that’s being thrown at him. He opens the black marker and takes the ball from your hand.

“Really? Did you enjoy the game, pretty girl?” He licks his lips, his eyes focused on signing the ball that he has in his hand. His gaze shifts though, from the ball to your cleavage. He tries to disguise it, but it’s clear what he’s doing. You hum in response, trying your best to keep an alluring smile on your face. 

“I loved watching you play.” You respond because you really don’t know what else to say. Should you ask him out? Would he reject you? He keeps looking at your cleavage so maybe he’d accept, but that also doesn’t mean anything. He probably gets asked out a lot, so it’s best if he makes the first move so you know if he’s really interested.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He hands you the ball, and you’re hesitant before you take it. You have to say something before he leaves but you don’t know what; something that’ll really stick in his mind. You take the ball, and you’re biting your tongue, you have an idea but it isn’t prudent. You bat your eyelashes before you ask him,

“Will you sign something else?” He raises his brow until he realizes what you’re talking about. You’re pretty much shaking them right in his face… Will your girlfriend get mad or something? His eyes are on your boobs and he’s tempted. His eyes search for your girlfriend in the sea of people, and when he doesn’t see her, he shrugs.

“You sure you want me to sign your tits? It doesn’t come off easily.” He warns you.

“Do it.” You nod your head, and with that assurance, you feel the marker on your cleavage as he signs his name across your breasts. He doesn’t keep it small, he wants to make it as big as he can. He smiles when he sees the work of art, his name on your chest. You bite down on your lip before saying, “Thank you, Fushiguro.”

“Please, call me Toji.” Toji says, a smug smile on his face as he puts the cap back on the marker. Is he immoral enough to ask a woman that seems to be in a relationship out? Oh, he is. He definitely is. “Will you–”

You know what’s about to leave his lips. He’s going to ask for your number. But he knows that he just wants to fuck and for some reason his conscience is telling him not to ruin a perfect relationship just for an hour or two. Since when did he become a good human being? You’re clearly throwing yourself at him, for fuck’s sake, he just signed your boobs. 

You tilt your head, “Will I what?”

“Will you tell your girlfriend to root for the better team?” He ends up saying, and the word doesn’t fully process in your head. Before you can get a word in, he’s walking back to the dugout and it hits you. Does he mean girlfriend as in your romantic partner or your friend? 

“I’m convinced that he would’ve asked me out if I hadn’t kissed Shoko.” You tell your friends, who aren’t all that interested in what you have to say. Shoko invited you out to a bar along with another mutual friend, and the date that canceled on her. The woman probably feels awkward as you keep babbling on how you kissed Shoko. Admittedly, you’re not attracted to each but it’s still awkward to hear about how your date kissed someone else.

“He’s not all that great anyway. Maybe you could try to hook up with Gojo so I can–” Shoko begins and when her eyes land on her date, she shuts her mouth. She chugs half of her drink, wiping her mouth when the glass hits the table again. “Move on, drink something and–”

“And?” You ask when Shoko stops in the middle of her sentence. She’s glaring at the entrance of the place, and it makes you turn. She’s gripping her bottle, asking what the hell they’re here. You realize that this is your chance.

A couple days after you last saw Toji, he walks inside the bar with three other friends… Or teammates, you’re not sure which word describes their relationship better. You smile at your friends before saying, “Maybe the universe has other plans for me.”

“You’re not going there.” Shoko sounds clearly annoyed. She can’t believe how you’re a traitor. You want to flirt with Fushiguro even though she’s a fan of the opposing team? You’re not much of a friend. “He’s a whore. If you sleep with him, he’ll give you a disease.”

“There’s always treatments.” You’re saying under your breath as you stand up. You smooth out your skirt before walking toward the man who wears a navy blue sweater and jeans. You won’t lie, you like the baseball uniform better but he still manages to look so good in his outfit. You’re not exactly sure how to approach him, so you tap his shoulder, causing him to turn around to find you with a sweet smile on your glossy lips. He smiles back at you.

“Nice to see you here, pretty girl.” Toji’s words make you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It makes your face warm. The people who he came with are also looking at you. “She’s the girl I was telling you guys about.”

“The lesbian?” A short woman with long dark hair speaks up, asking the same question that everyone in the group has. When Toji nods, you chuckle. They end up walking away, the short woman intertwining her fingers with the blond man’s that accompanies them. You recall seeing him, he’s a catcher in Toji’s team. They’re gone before you can correct them.

“I’m not a lesbian.” You tell Toji, and he raises his brows as a smirk comes to his lips. He throws his arm over your shoulder and instead of going to the booth that his friends are at, he heads to an empty booth. You take a seat across from each other, and you ask him, “Care for a drink?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Toji jokes, and you end up laughing. He clears his throat before saying, “I’m going to get a glass of water, do you care for anything?”

“I’m good, thank you.” You respond, and you watch him walk to the bar to get himself a drink. You wonder why he’s sticking with water, but it’s not that hard to decipher that he’s probably the designated driver for the night. The more you think about it, the more special you feel. He came here to spend time with his friends, yet he sat down with you. 

It’s clear he wants a hookup, and he didn’t do anything at the stadium because he thought you were a lesbian; you find it ridiculous though, considering he signed your tits. He sits back down and you smile at him. He takes a sip of the water before he asks the inevitable, “Was that your girlfriend? The woman you kissed?”

“We’re just friends. Friends kiss sometimes.” You answer, and he purses his lips, wondering if that’s true for girls. Certainly not true for him and his friends. While he stays quiet, you add, “Kiss cam landed on me, there was an ugly guy next to me so I asked Shoko to help.”

Toji would judge, but he gets it. He wouldn’t kiss an ugly girl even if she had a great personality– He doesn’t know when he became so shallow, he wasn’t always like this. But that doesn’t matter anyway since the woman that sits across from him is anything but ugly. 

“Nice to know you’re into men. Only reason I didn’t steal you after the game was because I thought that was your girlfriend back there.” He shares, and you end up laughing. You could gather that by the way he reacted when he saw you, but it’s nice to hear him actually say it. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

You introduce yourself to him. He makes sure to compliment your name, a comment that’s insignificant so you don’t pay much attention to it. You still mutter a thank you. He then asks a question that leaves you confused, “So what do I have to do so you become a mako shark fan?”

“A what?” You almost burst out laughing when you hear that. When did baseball team names become so ridiculous? You’re laughing as you respond, “Is that the name of your team?”

“Yeah…” He awkwardly responds, trying to laugh it off. He scratches the back of his neck, and he swears it’s the first time that he feels embarrassed about the team that brings him so much money each year. “I take it you’re not a fan of the team.”

“Nor the sport. My friend was the one that dragged me.” You share. It makes Toji feel better, less insignificant. You bite down on your bottom lip before you blink a couple times and you ask him, “Maybe you could… Explain the game to me, maybe it’ll get me interested.”

“I know that trick, in the end you won’t care and I’ll waste my words.” He replies, and you find yourself laughing more. You end up nodding, agreeing in response. You just want him to engage in a conversation, and the only subject that crossed your mind was baseball. “Tell me about… Did you grow up here?”

“I’ve lived here for the past ten years so… Yes but no.” You wonder why he’s keeping up the conversation. Shoko acts as if he’s the biggest whore in the world but he’s trying to engage in a conversation with you when it’s clear that you want to go back to his hotel. “How about you… Did you grow up in whatever city–”

“Yeah.” He answers. His eyes glance at his friends for a moment, they don’t seem to be having too much fun, so he’s glad he’s with you. He ends up rolling his eyes before he comments, “I have to drive those idiots home later.”

“Did you offer to be the designated driver or did they give the role to you?” 

“I don’t really drink so… They just brought me along. Kind of rude though, I had other plans.” He responds, yet he smirks when he looks at you. “I’m glad I’m here though… What do you do anyway?”

“Real estate agent, nothing too fun.” You reply. “Just trying to convince people into buying houses and whatnot.”

“Is that your dream job?” He questions, and your eyes widen a bit. Your eyebrows then come together, your lips pursing as you try to think about the question. You don’t really have a dream job, and you’ve never really thought about it. Other than,

“I don’t know. Maybe a housewife.” You end up shrugging. “How about you? Is being a baseball player your dream job?”

“Yeah… I guess. Never really thought about it.” And before you can dwell on the subject, he clears his throat and asks, “Anyway, I assume you know your way around the city. Would you care to be my tour guide tomorrow?”

“You’re lucky I have the day off.” 

“Is that a yes?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. Around this moment he’d suggest going back to the hotel, but he has to stick around for his teammates. Luckily enough, he can see you again tomorrow. God, he just wishes he could ditch them. “So… Let’s say I wanted to buy a house around here.”

“Ew, why would you?” You end up laughing, and he laughs along with you. You reach into your purse to grab a business card. You slide it to him, and he inspects it when it’s in his hands. “That’s my work phone, but if you have a pen I can write my cell number.”

“Don’t you have a pen in your purse?” He responds, and you click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I had one, would I?” You tell him, and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Of course you don’t, why would you ask for a pen if you had one. He excuses himself for a moment and stands up from his chair, running to the booth that his teammates are in. The same man that tossed him a marker in the game, is not handing him a pen. For that moment you feel special, although it isn’t much effort to stand up and ask for a pen but some people wouldn’t even try. You can also just put your number in his phone, but the idea doesn’t cross your mind until he’s back with the pen.

“What’s your number?” He asks, more than ready to write it down on the card. 

“I can also put it in your phone…”  You suggest, and he ends up laughing as he pulls out his phone. You’re dumbfounded when you see his old phone– You weren’t sure if they still made phones that flipped, but he’s proved you wrong. “Do they not pay you enough?”

“You won’t believe it. I tried to buy a third house but they weren’t paying me enough.” He shakes his head disappointedly, flipping the phone open, opening the phone app and then handing it to you. You take it and type in your number. “I don’t see the point in getting a new phone. I just need to call a couple people and that’s it.”

“Do you know what a computer is?” You respond as you give him back the phone. He ends up shaking his head, obviously joking. “How old are you anyway? I hope that’s not rude.”

“Twenty– Thirty-something years old. Near my forties.” He answers, not wanting to give specifics to not scare you off; of course, you can just look it up. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age but how old are you? It’s only fair for me to ask.”

“Not telling you.” You say, and he cocks his eyebrow. A laugh escapes his lips before he jokes,

“What? Are you a granny that manages to look young?” He jokes, and you nod in response, a smile on your lips. You haven’t talked much but you feel like you’re clicking with him. There’s a foolish smile on your face, a laugh leaving your lips every time he makes a dumb joke. 

“So um… I can’t really give you what you’re looking for tonight.” He brings up after ten minutes of chatter. You slightly tilt your head.

“And what exactly am I looking for?” You question, and you swear there’s a sparkle in his eyes. This isn’t the first time this has happened to him, but he enjoys your presence. He likes the way you put your hand over your chest and you dramatically gasp before you tell him, “Are you suggesting I want to–”

“We both know you want to.” He cuts you off, and he isn’t exactly wrong. The only reason you approached him was to hook up with him– You’ll admit that you enjoy the conversation. “Do you want to join my friends?”

“Well… I’m enjoying this time alone with you, but if you want to join them.” You answer. He glances at them for a moment before looking back at you. He lightly shakes his head,

“Maybe some other time. Tell me more about you.”

Nothing ends up happening that night, but it’s fine because you agreed to meet up the next day. He tells you the hotel that he’s staying at, and you plan on meeting at the coffee shop that’s across the hotel. You aren’t an early riser nor do you like to be extremely early to places, but you find yourself with a coffee and a pastry almost an hour before the time that you agreed to meet up.

You’re scrolling through your phone, and you almost miss the man that walks into the coffee shop, extremely early just like you. Your eyes meet, and a smile comes to your face. If you believed in love at first sight, you’d say that’s what this is. But you aren’t in love with Toji, you just find him handsome– And you feel like you can spend hours talking to him.

“Toji.” You say. He walks over toward you, his hands in his pockets. When you’re in front of him, his eyes go straight to your chest since your dress is showing your cleavage.

“Didn’t really notice that my name isn’t on them.” He awkwardly chuckles, and it embarasses you. If you knew that you’d be here so early in the day to meet up with him, you wouldn’t have asked him to sign your breasts; on the other hand, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your boldness. You try your best to act confident, putting on your best smile.

“You can always sign them again if you want.” It’s meant to be a joke, and he laughs, but he’s about to ask the barista to borrow the marker. You clear your throat before saying, “Anyway, you should get your coffee so we can start.”

“Yeah.” He responds before he walks to the line. You walk back to your seat, and you finish your drink and coffee before he’s ready to go. He only gets a coffee, and he gloats about how, “I got it for free. Barista knew who I was.”

“You’re so lucky. The rich get richer and poor people like me still have to pay for their coffee.” You point out lightheartedly. He chuckles as you stand up. You walk out of the coffee shop together, and you begin to walk to your first stop: the aquarium.

You’re tired since the previous night you stayed up looking up places to take him. You’re not too sure about the downtown area, you’ve only been here a couple of times. You’re determined to give him a good time so maybe when he comes back to the city, he’ll think of you. 

“So where are we going?” Toji asks, following your lead. You decide to stay quiet as you continue walking. He won’t really push it, trusting your judgment. He sips on his coffee before asking, “So… Have you gotten married before?”

“No. I assume you have.” You respond, and he raises his brow. You’re not really paying to his facial expressions, so you completely miss it.

“So um… Are you trying to call me old?” He sounds offended. You bite down on your lip as you hold back a laugh. You end up humming in response– And as you do so you remember Shoko’s words. She called him a deadbeat, something along those lines. And you shouldn’t care, you try to not let it bother you. After today you doubt you’ll ever see him again. “I have been married before. Twice.”

“Don’t want to ruin the mood by talking further about it.” You tell him, not wanting to hear something that’ll possibly scare you away. Not before you have sex with him at the very least. Having sex with a celebrity is on your bucket list and you want to check that off; although you aren’t too sure if he’s considered a celebrity. You’ve never heard of him before, but you don’t keep up with sports and additionally people recognize him. 

“The aquarium.” Toji doesn’t look all that surprised. He still follows, and when you’re about to pay for two tickets, he pulls out his wallet and slams his card on the counter before you can do it. He definitely makes more money than you, he will offer to pay. Especially since he wants to get into your pants. When you’re inside, you smirk,

“Maybe we’ll see a mako shark.” He ends up rolling his eyes before he laughs. His hand goes to the small of your back as you begin to walk around. He isn’t all that interested in the fishes and sea creatures but it seems like you like to look around. You’re interested in the stupid variety of fishes.

Maybe he’s entertained when he stares at the sharks. His lips are pursed together, his hands in his pockets as his eyes follow the sharks. You’re walking around, looking at all the sea life around you until you’re back next to him. You poke his arm and you keep your finger pressed on his skin as you realize just how strong he is. His eyes finally fall on you. He doesn’t know what to say. Toji feels weird… He’s known you for a day or even less, and he thinks he likes you. 

It certainly isn’t love, he knows what love is. But he enjoys spending time with you, and he knows that he’ll like to have you by his side as he grows old. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed as much as he did last night. He’s just trying to get into your pants. 

Toji has a cold demeanor that a person really has to work through to get him to be nicer. He doesn’t know why he didn’t put that up with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like making pretty girls work for his attention.

“So did you find your team in the water?” You joke, and it’s so fucking dumb that he laughs along. He shakes his head. He throws his arm over your shoulder and begins to walk elsewhere because the sharks have gotten boring. He hears someone call his name, and he turns to find a random kid. He excuses himself, and you watch as he takes a photo with the young fan.

The young fan is grinning and telling Toji just about anything he can think of, and your heart softens just watching Toji pay attention to the young kid. It reminds you of Shoko’s words though, and this question rises in your mind. Toji looks so sweet with the kid. When Toji finally gets to your side you ask the question that bugs your mind,

“Do you have kids?” It catches him off guard. It’s nice to know that you haven’t looked him up though. A weak smile appears on his face before he nods in response.

“I have a twelve-year-old son.” His arm is over your shoulder again, and you’re walking elsewhere. You follow his lead, just staring at his face as you wait for him to elaborate. It doesn’t seem like he will until he clears his throat and adds, “His mom has full custody.”

“Okay.” Your lips form into a thin line as you nod. You know you can’t really ask more, you’ll definitely be crossing a line that you don’t want to cross. You’re walking to a darker area, and he comes to a stop which makes you stop as well. “I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am.” He answers, and you look up at him, meeting his eyes. You have no idea why but you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It’s weird considering you just met, for all you know, he means danger. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel your face get warm. You stare at each other for a moment until Toji notices the jellyfish behind you, and he points at them. “That looks… Pretty.”

“It is.” You blink slowly as you take in the pretty sight. You look back at each other at the same time. He scratches the back of his neck.

“So does this count as a first date?” He asks, and you giggle.

“Yeah, I think so.” You respond. “As long as I get into your pants.”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.” He says, and he covers his mouth, his eyes widening when he notices a child walking by. He looks at the parents, “I did not mean to say that.”

“You need to watch what you say. There’s children around.” You tell him, and he scoffs.

“Fuck you.” And you pout your lips before dramatically turning. 

“I guess since you don’t do the hanky panky after the first date, this date is over.” You do so more to see his reaction. You’re actually enjoying your date with him so you don’t care if you have sex or not. Your arms are crossed and your head slowly turns to see his reaction. You watch as Toji’s hands are on his knees, and he’s wiping away a tear. He silently laughs, and just watching him makes you chuckle as well. 

When he calms down, he cups your face. “The hanky panky? Really?”

“Whatever you want to call it. You know what I mean.” You try your best to keep a serious face. It’s hard to. Especially when his words sound so funny even though they aren’t supposed to be. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Toji. See you on the second date.”

“You know I was joking.” He tells you, his face inching closer to yours. He isn’t going to throw in the detail that he’s leaving tomorrow and he probably won’t see you again. You’re leaning in for a kiss, and he comes to a complete stop. He’s never seeing you again after this– Maybe in a year or so but so much can happen in a year. When you realize that he’s stopped, you ask,

“Why did you–” You begin and before you finish your sentence, his lips land on yours. It’s a short but sweet kiss; you swear you hear fireworks when you feel his soft lips on yours, and you dismiss it because it’s over as fast as the kiss is. 

“Is the date really over?” He asks as you gather your thoughts. 

“No. It’s far from over.”

You get some lunch after and while the food was awful, you had a great time with him. You kept talking for hours until you realized the sun was setting, and that’s when you realized that you kept talking for hours. Toji offered to go back to his hotel to watch a movie since neither of you knew what else to do. You agreed, knowing that you aren’t going to watch a movie.

“So what movie do you want to–” Toji begins as you step into his hotel room, yet before he gets to finish the sentence, his hands are lifting up your dress. He’s been thinking about this all fucking– For days, he’s been thinking about fucking you ever since he signed your tits. He throws your dress elsewhere when his lips land on yours. 

His tongue enters your mouth and presses against yours while his hands roam your body. He’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this for centuries. There’s so much passion in his kiss, and your legs begin to grow weaker and weaker. You swore you had no chance when he walked away after the game, and god, you’re so fucking glad that you were wrong.

Toji’s hand unhooks your bra, and he slides it off before throwing it elsewhere, just like the dress. Toji pulls away from the kiss, and kisses down your neck. His lips feel so hot on your skin, and you’re burning up.

When he gets to your breast, he licks across the area where he signed. His thumb and index finger begin to pinch your nipple while his tongue circles your other nipple. His tongue flicks your nipple before his mouth wraps around it and he begins to suck.

“I liked them better with my name on them.” Toji says when he unlatches. He kisses your breasts until he gets to your other nipple, and he latches again. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he plays with your sensitive nipples. 

“You can write your name on them again.” You tell him. His lips go to yours again and he kisses you multiple times, his hands cupping your breasts. His lips then go to your ear and he whispers,

“Let me fuck your tits, baby.” His teeth nibble on your earlobe, your hand going to the buckle of his belt and undoing it. You grow more and more desperate by the moment. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do. You unbutton and pull down his pants. He completely takes them off and your hand palms his cock. God, he grows more and more impatient with each passing second. He needs some relief.

You grab his hand and you lead him to the bed before you push him down. You pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to be free, before you get on your knees. Your hand wraps around his length, and you bring your lips together to spit on it a couple times before you put his shaft in the middle of your chest. You squeeze your tits together and he bites his bottom lip, holding back a moan. You begin to move your breasts and he watches you, taking everything in him to not loudly moan into the air. He’s been waiting for this for what feels like forever.

This is better than what he imagined. How pathetic would it be for him to come fast? He hates that you’ve taken over his thoughts, even though he hasn’t even known you for a week. You’re just so fucking pretty. 

“Fuck– I love your fucking tits.” He finally moans. Your head leans down and you’re licking the tip of his cock, and maybe he should’ve abandoned his drunk friends to fuck you last night; it definitely would’ve been much better than dragging too many drunk people back into a hotel room, keeping them from yelling into the streets and embarrassing themselves. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re still here, fucking his cock with your boobs. “It’s so good.”

Your boobs keep moving up and down your boobs until his dick finally twitches, his cum making a mess. Some of it lands on your tongue, most of it on your chest. You make sure to swallow the cum that’s on your tongue, while his finger goes to your chest, gathering some of his cum before he traces his signature on your chest again.

“There we go.” He smirks as you get up from the floor. When his finger gathers his cum from your chest again, he brings it up to your lips and when you open your mouth, he shoves his fingers in. You gag on his fingers, and it sounds like music to his ears. 

He takes his fingers out, your saliva coating his digits. You get up from the floor and force him to lay down on the bed. You get on top of him, knees on either side of him. Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and you begin to pull it up. He helps you get his shirt off, and you swear there’s a god in your bed. Fuck he looks good.

“You wanna ride me?” Toji asks as his fingers begin to play with your clothed cunt. You bite down your lip as you hold back a pathetic moan in your throat.

“Whatever you want.” You answer. You sound so fucking pathetic and Toji loves it. He’s loving everything about this. 

“I just need you wrapped around me.” He answers as he pushes your panties to the side. You lean down, your mouth kissing his. Toji takes the opportunity to run his cock through your folds before he pushes himself inside of you. He lets you adjust to every inch of his cock.

Your hands go to his chest for support as you begin to move on his cock. Toji swears he’s in heaven when he feels you wrapped around his cock. Your pussy just feels so fucking good. This feeling is euphoric, and he swears he’ll forever remember this because god– He’s fucking moaning. He’s moaning so fucking loud too but you’re drowning it out.

“You feel so fucking good.” He can’t help but moan. His hands travel from your back to grip your ass. You’re moving back and forth on his cock, hitting that right spot that makes you feel so fucking good. He loves looking at your face, filled with pleasure that his cock gives him. He just wants to snap a picture so he can look at it.

Your movements were already slow in the beginning, they get even slower since you tire out quickly. It’s unfair that you’re doing all the work while Toji, who is an athlete that definitely has more stamina, does nothing. Toji teases you, “Tired? Already?”

“Please move, Toji.” You’re sticking out your bottom lip. He chuckles before he begins to do the work for you. You curse over and over again since his thrusts are rapid at least compared to the speed that you had set.

Your hand goes down to play with your clit. Your pussy begins to tighten around him, and he has to bite down his lip to not let out an animalistic noise. You throw your head back, arching your back as you shut your eyes, “Fuck– Love your cock.”

It’s all too much for you to handle. You stop playing with yourself when you’re near the edge. 

“You’re so tight.” He says through gritted teeth. You shut your eyes, and you keep moaning his name over and over again. You have no consideration for his teammates who are on the same floor as him. You don’t care if they hear or don’t hear. 

“Oh, Toji!” You loudly moan when you reach your high. He loses control, god, this is just better than everything. He’s never had something so good before. His hands go to your hips and his nails dig into the flesh.

“Need to come inside you.” He says, and you don’t care to push him away. You’re on birth control, you just need to feel his cum inside of you. So fucking bad. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do with you. He’s got you in a trance ever since you met him.

“Do it, please please please.” You chant. His movements get sloppy until he finally fills you up with his cum. He keeps his cock buried inside of you until every drop of his seed is inside of you. When he pulls out, your lips repeatedly kiss his over and over again.

Your head then falls on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you smile as you feel his hand run up and down your back. You’re breathing in his scent, and you swear you’ve never felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms like how you feel right now.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He speaks up, and you lift your head to look at him. 

“Are you sad about it?” You ask him, and you watch him shrug. Your finger pokes his muscular chest before you tease him, “You’re sad because you’re leaving? We haven’t known each other for so long.”

“I know… And I’m not sad. Why would I be?” He responds. Your head lays back down on his chest and you’re listening to his heartbeat. “You’ve just made me feel so good. I’ve never laughed so hard, and I haven’t felt this good in ages. And I don’t feel like I can let that go. I really really like you.”

“We can always reconnect. You can fly back here.” You remind him, but he seems to have a very different idea. Very different. It makes you sit up and look at him wide eyed when he suggests,

“Let’s get married.”

[sillylittlegirlthoughts]

would you do high school harry with a girl who hes just sat next to for most of the school year (therre so clearly in love but deny it) and idk he just doenst want to go to his lesson but also doesnt want to skip on his own so he asks her and they skip AND if you alright writing it they just get high (from personal experience 😇😇) and talk and you can make them do what ever i dont care

skippers | w2s

thank you anon for this request! personally love this idea and sorry if it is shorter than anticipated but if you would like another maybe where they go back to school or you meeting harry’s parents after this then lemme know!

harry lewis x reader!

requests are always open! check a previous post to see a list of those i would love to write for

The bell rang through the school as the commotion of the class and corridors began to rise, every student heading to their next class. She too added to that as she rushed to her next class. English, was a subject that she despised, but the boy she sat next to made it not so bad.

Her and Harry got arranged seating at the beginning of the year. As a result of them both being extremely sheepish when around new people caused them not to speak for the first few weeks and only exchanging smiles of acknowledgment when passing one another in the halls. One Friday the teacher set a pair assignment for the weekend, when both her and Harry bonded over the thought of comics being better than actual novels they soon realised their common interests did not stop at that.

Their english classes were not spent practically and somehow they did even less work than they used to. With a few warning and many classmate judgements the pair found themselves inseparable.

Whether it was them both ignoring the smitten nature of their relationship or they were too busy thinking of each other to think of the reason why, Harry and Y/n had both failed to acknowledge the obvious connection they had.

It became extremely obvious to their classmates and their friends that they talked about one another too much to be ‘just friends.’

She walked and waited outside Harry’s class waiting for the dismissal. Harry came out of the room, lugging his bag on one shoulder ruffling his hair with the other hand. “You alright?” She asked, furrowing an eyebrow at the distressed boy. “Yeah, yeah. Just knackered. Don’t want to do this bullshit of a class.” He moaned as they trailed alongside eachother.

“Harry it’ll be alright. We always have a laugh in English!” She exclaimed as she tried to put a smile on his face. “I really dunno. I don’t want to go. But I don’t want to bloody skip by myself either!”

He looked around aimlessly as he contemplated what to do. “Y/n, would you come skip with me?” He asked her, his eyes filled with hope.

“I thought you’d never ask!” She joked.

After they had managed to make it off school grounds they headed towards a football pitch secluded in the back of a park nearby.

“See! This is so much better than English!” Harry uttered as he dropped his bag on the ground, running to a football in the net. He brought it out and took a kick of it. The ball was quite filthy and deflated too but Harry was having an exceptional amount of fun. The ball hit the netting at the back of the net as Harry ran around in excitement. She giggled at him, admiring how much fun he was getting out of the sad little football he had found. He ventured for the football and brought it to the spot. “Have a go.”

“What?”

“C’mon! Have a go. It’s easy just do a little run up and kick with the inside of your foot.” He lectured her, running his hand across the inside of his foot whilst doing so. “Right then.”

She giggled as she ran slightly to the ball, watching Harry shout to her with words of encouragement. She kicked the ball and it flew into the net. Harry yelled and ran to the girl, embracing her as he swung her around. “That was class, y/n!”

“Harry! I just seen you bloody do that about six times!” She stifled a laugh, admiring the boys complete giddiness.

“Yeah but from you! That brilliant from you!” He stated as he walked back to his bag, propping himself against the post and he sat down. “Oi!” She hit the boy playfully over the back of his head, and sat down facing him.

At first they contemplated how they would manage to pass the remainder of the day out in the bitter cold but it was soon resolved when Harry brought some things for them to smoke.

Their bodies were soon warmed up and their minds were flowing. As they both lay on their stomachs and talked about their mates in school they noticed how much fun they were having and dodging the thoughts of any trouble they might get in later.

Harry couldn’t stop laughing at anything the girl said, he admired her true smile and how much it enhanced her beauty. His brain was fumbled. He finally admitted to himself this afternoon to his true feelings about her and he didn’t know how to act. He had pushed it away for so long so it didn’t bother him but now that he had admitted it to himself he couldn’t help but feel so out of place. He was awkward, fidgeting with his fingers and constantly running through his hair to the point where she asked,

“Are you okay?”

He stared at the girl blankly as his eyes grew heavy and his expression started to seep into confusion.

He then did something so impulsive that it even stunned him. He leaned in and she followed suit and then he connected their lips, the kiss was slow and sweet. She was a gentle kisser and her hands trailed to his hair slowly tangling through his blonde mess. She could feel him smile through the kiss and they slowly pulled away and he rested his forehead on hers and they both just smiled in content.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Do you accept requests? If so, could you do mine please... if you're comfortable with that, of course!

The reader who has romantic feelings for Viktor and Jayce and who both have feelings for the reader, but never declared themselves... until the fateful one in which Jayce had to use magic to save Viktor, then when Viktor woke up and left for Zaun he asked the reader to go along with him... a long time later, until that part where Jayce, Jayce kind of "kidnapped/saved" the reader... At the moment Viktor became conscious again he didn't stay happy that Jayce took the reader away... when the final battle. was happening between Jayce and Viktor the Aurato das Machinas, the reader was trying to give some conscience to the two stubborn ones, maybe having a declaration... I just want to see these two men problematic and in a way a little crazy, fighting for the reader and both arguing that he deserves the reader and in the end the two divide the reader between themselves, among other things...

I've been extremely drained from other things, so this is going to be half of what you asked for. But I didn't want to keep this in confines any longer, but I do ask for your forgiveness on this. Please believe that I am extremely drained as I am unable to give this the same love and care I do for my other works.

In Love And War.

The way you three had all come to meet was quite an interesting story you always loved to tell if you had ever by chance met acquaintances of Viktor or Jayce, you would never let them live it down, much to their disbelief and chagrin. Though it wasn't necessarily in bad light, the story that had came to be of your first official meeting had left a bad impression on you, however, they had later amended that. You still won't let them live it down though. Of course you had reassured them once or twice you don't mean it was badly, just a silly embarrassing story. Which only the three of you would come to understand the humor behind it, much to the confusion of others.

When your feelings of romanticism had come to fruition, through the both of them individually and all-together, you were beginning to be afraid. The already blooming friendships and bonds you had with the two of them was greater than the chains of war, greater than the thickness of blood. If you admit it now, or even any other time for that matter, surely it would turn out bad. You knew full well that Jayce and Viktor were stressed enough on their own with personal matters and even that with the council, so your own admittance of things, was sure to bring more weight. Even then, should you admit it, you weren't sure if you could handle the aftermath. You know those two were mature and capable, you still couldn't help but be afraid though.

With Viktor, you always found yourself amused with his comebacks and remarks, he had a sharp tongue, and wasn't afraid to defend himself or anyone else he cared about. That was without a doubt, something to respect, especially all his other unique traits. That alone though was what made him so unique too, and certainly his ability to ascertain the probability on the success of discussing experiments. He always had and did have an eye for the more minuscule things, catching minor details that would've interrupted the result.

Jayce, he was certainly a more brighter guy in terms of personality. But it didn't mean that Viktor wasn't without his charms. Jayce is quick to think, even if the way he phrases things sound particularly odd, you thought it was nice he had a genuine care for those around him. His remarkable education adjacent to his reputation indisputably was proof of that.

So you began taking a sort of distance, seemingly respectable enough to keep the same mask you did, similar enough to even before you grew feelings for the two. It really wasn't your place anyway, you couldn't invertedly take center-stage and ruin their hard work for the city of Piltover so far. So it was just the simple act of admiration when they had their true moments of passion of their work toward helping people, unconditionally you had supported them in their fruits of labor, all while having your own passion projects. They had offered the idea of you becoming their third partner, but you had turned it down with the utmost politeness you could muster. Even if it wasn't Hex Tech, you know you could shine in helping people as well.

Well, it was the unfortunate reality that came to fruition because of a few bad words. It's truly all that it takes just to simply turn the tide on things, for better or, for worse.

It sincerely took one disaster for him to throw away everything he had for this one thing, and this one thing had his heart pounding, enough for his heart to just jump near the cavity of his heart. Without one of his dearest to him, who was he to go on in life without him. Jayce knew in his heart, that in a way; he was sure to be doing something wrong with such an act of desperation to save Viktor’s life. In his head, he hoped that Viktor would forgive him for being so selfish about this one thing. Many things he was unsure of, but saving Viktor was the one thing he could be capable of succeeding right now. 

You were at all odds with yourself, seeing Jayce run across the grounds like that. Each and every step thundering with anticipation, and viable worry of what may have become. There wasn’t any way in hell that you were going to leave him alone to deal with it however, so you chased after him, the best you could. Though in certainty, even for being such a lumbering muscle of mass, Jayce was agile on his feet when it really counted. 

Then meeting right at the face of the tall doors, fit enough to fit the varying degrees of height for tall Greek gods — it was as if the only thing stopping you from going through those steps, to enter the lab, was the accursed beaming blue light. It was harsh and fast, but you weren’t a fool. This was revitalizing and renewing a life force. 

Not just any in particular however. 

It was Viktors! Surely an odd thing to feel or know about, and about anyone would throw a questioning glance your way. But you knew, in the depths of your heart. This was Jayce’s act of desperation, and even with all your doubts stopping you from stepping through that door, you pushed through, mimicking the act of hercules as he had succeeded in the twelve labors. 

You were met with a bright force of light, the hextech core without a shadow of a doubt. 

Once the force of the blast had finally died down, you tentatively brought down your arm which had shielded you from the light. Yet you were met with a grisly, shocking sight. 

“Jayce?” You asked, seeing his widened eyes meet with yours, you could tell that he was both confused and relieved. Your gaze flinched for a moment, looking to where Viktor’s body had laid. He still looked okay, but now his physical appearance had changed. What was once human skin seemed to be so purple and thrummed with magic the likes of which you had never seen, which was odd, as you had never once in your life seen someone appear in such a way. Surely, you thought that Viktor was gone for good, but despite that, Jayce’s desperation had allowed him to come back. Which you weren’t sure was a plausible matter of conversation for either of the two, as not a word was exchanged the entire time of the act. 

The silence seemed to be extraneous, watching as Jayce had looked him over. Then he seemed to be content now, so you decided to take the opportunity to ask; “What… the hell was that?” You hissed, stepping forward, your hand reaching out—-even as a display of hesitation. Jayce shook his head, seemingly almost new to this as you were. He stuttered as he shrugged his shoulders, one of his hands laying against the tourniquet of Viktor’s leg. 

“He-Hex Core, I think.” He says with a hint of finality, yet it had also seemed there was also a waver of hesitance. As if he wasn’t completely sure in the answer he gave, Jayce thinks he has the other answer behind the why of the first. The HexCore had proven itself multiple times throughout the experiments, of which he had experienced with his own eyes, that it is constantly ever changing. 

(Chaos.)

You shook your head in disbelief, eyes closing for a brief moment as you had just registered the information you learned. “I don't get it,” You replied, walking over to where Viktor’s body lay, stopping right in front of Jayce. “Didn’t the Heimerdinger say that the core was dangerous?”

Jayce furrowed his brow, sensing the recollection of understanding, “He did, but it just may as well have saved Viktor’s life!” He voices, hand wistfully wafting about,  preceding your earlier comment. You hanged back, taking a step sideways as garnering your attention back to Viktor’s body once more. 

“Too late to argue I suppose,” Then you turned back to Jayce, “We’ll have to wait and see if your thing really did save his life, otherwise….” You trailed off, head now hanging low as you sat back on a nearby chair. Sure, he was smart and willing to make good on his words, but Jayce as far as you knew had the tendency to act irrationally. But it wasn’t in any use to argue with the man, what was done had been done, all you could do was wait for the impending result. 

”I won’t forgive you for this.” 

The heavy weight seemingly weighing down on Jayce’s shoulders lifted when your words reached his ears, a brief glimmer of hope in his eyes when you had spoken. He nodded slowly, turning around as he made his way to the desk, now sitting down he began to look over the papers of which Viktor had written in the past few days. 

Eventually, overtime both you and Jayce had fallen to the slumbers of sleep. Leaving Viktor by himself in the waking world about a few hours in time, which he had used to straggle along over to where Jayce had slept, bent over the desk as his only means of a pillow, harsh and cold he concluded. 

Jayce groans, an inevitable sensing of the presence right behind him. He lifts his head, shocked to be met with Viktor’s gaze, almost somewhat cold and indifferent, but the wavering hint of kindness all at once. “Viktor?” Jayce manages, standing up, and causing the chair to slide away. Jayce’s pupils flit all over Viktor’s appearance, “You're alive!” He chuckles with a sigh of relief.

Viktor looks himself over, as often he had seemed to be doing even before his eventual time of darkness. “So it seems.” He replies, now clutching onto what appeared to be crutch, which may have transformed along with Viktor. 

Jayce snaps into action, rambling about how cold Viktor must be and goes over to helping the other man sit down.

[the-shinysnorlax]

A semi-professional study on Miguel O’Haras powers

Miguel has a lot of silly powers, so here’s a little study of what they can do, the weaknesses, and so on. His powers are what interested me into his character in the first place, and I’m hoping this will allow for others to get more into him as well!

1. Talons

First off I want to clarify that yes, Miguel has talons on both his hands AND feet. They’re on the tips of his fingers and toes! (NOT fingernails or part of the suit!)

Should also mention that these talons are what Miguel uses to climb. He doesn’t have the sticky powers Peter has. He has to dig his talons in to climb.

But more importantly, we actually don’t know what Miguel’s talons are made out of. I’ve seen multiple different answers to this like hardened skin or keratin (Me personally I think it’s hardened skin).

Also Miguel CANNOT harm himself with his talons! They automatically fold up when they touch his skin!

Last important part about his talons is that he can’t seathe them! He “folds” them by his fingers.

This requires pretty much 24/7 concentration in his brain at all times, so when he’s distracted he can very easily pop up the talons

2. Fangs

After ATSV it’s pretty much common knowledge that Miguel has fangs. But one thing the movie got wrong is Miguel can’t seathe or “hide” his fangs, at least not very easily.

Miguel’s fangs are quite large, so much so that he has a slight speech impediment as a result.

Also the fangs have a venom inside of them! The venom DOES NOT kill and only temporarily paralyzes the victim. Miguel rarely bites people and it’s more often than not a last resort (We only see him do it like 4 times in the comics ever)

3. Other random powers

This doesn’t really have a theme, his talons and fangs are his big 2 powers but I do want to mention some of his other abilities!

-Miguel does not have a spidersense! He can’t sense when enemies are coming from behind him! He DOES however have enhanced eyesight which can cause him to locate stuff from far away!

This unfortunately comes at the cost of having extreme light sensitivity, if you see comics Miguel wear sunglasses constantly that’s why! Without them his eyes would be extremely sensitive to light. (Also his eyes are red as well because of this!)

-Miguel has NATURAL webbing! I know in Spiderverse he doesn’t but in the comics he has spinnerets in his wrists! They were actually the last of his powers to come in (Probably because a lot of muscle had to be moved around)

We don’t know if Miguel can actually run out of webbing, I would say it’s possible but unlikely. The spinnerets can hold a lot of storage!

-Miguel’s DNA is confirmed 50% spider so yes. Miguel is not fully human.

-Some other power’s Miguel has include: Enhanced reflexes (Probably even moreso than normal Spider-Man) and the other generic powers that come with being a superhero like enhanced strength, speed, and durability.

Miguel might also have super healing? I can’t 100% confirm on that but I wouldn’t be shocked if he does.

[cheriladycl01]

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 7

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

A/N: I've brought Luisia into things because of the timeline and it being 2021. Don't hate on her, or the fact that i've brought her into my writing please!

The British Grand Prix was anything but boring. Max ended up DNFing, Lewis having another home race win and you riding your brothers bumper the whole time while defending him from Carlos.

“Please let me overtake, I can catch Bottas if you let me” you’d asked through the radio. You’re tyres were better managed than your brothers and you were clearly the quicker driver right now.

“Hold position” is all you heard and an irritated sigh comes out of your mouth.

“You’re defending from Carlos Y/N we want to come out of this with the most points as possible” he admits and you want to smack your wheel but you remain concentrated until the end of the race.

You get out the car once you’ve done the last lap, congratulating Lewis before being weighed and going straight into the garage.

You expressed your frustrations to your race engineer who remained understanding but explained that it was best for the teams result.

“Hey, thanks for … listening to the team” Lando awkwardly come over and you nod at him before walking off to the media pen. You get ushered over by your PR manager to Crofty whose conducting interviews.

“Y/N, Y/N interesting race no?” He asks and you nod before taking a drink and sighing.

“Yeah, seeing the rear win of my brothers car was perfect” you joke sarcastically making him laugh and your PR manager shake her head at you.

“Mmmm and team orders didn’t seem to let you overtake, is that proof there is a Norris 1 and Norris 2 in that team?” He asks and you cock your head to the side.

“I think it’s hard obviously Lando’s been in the team for 2 seasons now already, halfway through his third and it’s my rookie season. So I think naturally there is some … underlying loyalty that McLaren hold to Lando as they are basically building the team around him. Which at times like today can be extremely frustrating for me, but it’s one of those situations where you just move on and look forward to the next race” you admit and he nods.

A few questions later and your walking into the hospitality to find Luisa and Nathan talking.

“Hey guys” you smile tiredly and Luisa comes up and pulls you into a soft hug.

“Well done today! You drove amazing!” She grins and you smile back at her.

“I gotta agree, you do drive really well” Nathan adds to the conversation.

Soon enough Lando comes strolling in, still in his race suit the same as you with it hanging off his hips.

“Hey baby” he says pulling his girlfriend into a kiss. He sighs leaning into her touch, and as you watch there’s a little green monster of jealously on your back.

It was kind of upsetting how Lando was happy with a girl and had someone to come to the races with him and support him and make him feel better after bad races, when he told you all you were doing was playing with his friends hearts.

You quietly exited the room, going to take shower and get the day of driving washed off your body. On your way you stop for some conversations with a few of the McLaren workers who were packing up the motor home.

While in the shower your mind couldn’t help but wonder to Charles and Max.

You’d had a good conversation with Charles, and maybe just maybe it was time to see if whatever it was that you’d found once again in Monaco could lead to something more.

And Max, well … you didn’t even really know what was going on with him and your best friend. Ex best friend.

She’d unfollowed you very quickly the night that you all seemed to be at the club and Max has come up to you and you’d very quickly dismissed him. It seemed as though they were … something because they were now following each other and twitter stans and the Instagram investigators were putting two and two together now.

deuxmoi

Liked by y/bff and others

Max Verstappen spotted with McLaren racing driver Y/N Norris’ childhood bestie, in a restaurant in Monaco.

Sources say that they seemed very close and it was quite an intimate dinner.

Now it seems that y/bff/n has unfollowed Y/N on all socials while Y/N remains following her with photos still up of the two of them from years ago, so what happened we wonder?

View all comments

user1: Source: Trust me Bro

user2: omg what if Y/N was jealous Y/NStappen RISE

user3: if y/n still follows her surely her friend that has the issue with her right?

y/user

Liked by luishinaoliveria and others

y/user: Been working on my self care lately because even when no-one cares, you should 💕

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Instagram Story Caption:

Loving Taylor lately 😈

It was time you bit back, you wanted to tell fans what actually happened. But it seemed childish and pretty to instead you sent them clues via Instagram and Twitter.

You were becoming a bit of a PR nightmare with lots of rumours surrounding you.

There was a decent break between Britain and Hungary. You spent a lot of time working on yourself and getting your body in peak condition for the next few races. You went home and saw your parents when Lando wasn’t there and had a sleepover with Luisa when he was with Max and Carlos playing golf all weekend.

But while you were halfway through a bottle of rose with your brothers girlfriend a text that had you squinting to read dinged on your phone.

‘Can we talk? Please?’

Taglist:

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[driftward]

Let's talk about Zoraal Ja.

So early on in Dawntrail, shortly after Krile's first Echo off of Zoraal Ja, I was like, we are going to find out there is something fucked up happening to this guy. Maybe there's actually an Ascian in there purposefully fucking things up, or whoever the big bad of the expansion turns out to be rewired his head somehow, or, you know, some flavour of brain fuckery.

But as we go through the story and ultimately see him at his defeat, no, nothing so extreme as all that. He seems to be just Like That, and I thought it odd. By all accounts, it seemed he must have been raised okay. Gulool Ja Ja seems to have been an alright father figure, good enough to have raised two other kids into decent adults. They have their own sets of issues, but nobody's perfect, and they both do a good job course correcting for their shortcomings.

What the hell happened with Zoraal Ja? Why did he turn out the way he did?

Gulool Ja Ja is a blessed sibling, which we are not just told are exceedingly rare - we are shown so, explicitly, and we learn what the cost of a blessed sibling is to the Mamool Ja. A cost that their people bore in order to try to better their lot and win a war against the Xbr'aal. Gulool Ja Ja did not so much win their war as much as he simply ended it, bringing peace to both peoples.

That peace is simply, however, not that old. When we visit Iq Br'aax, we slowly learn the story of how that peace came to be, but throughout it, I could not help but notice that we were only getting one side of the story. The celebrated meal of Xibruq Pibil was meant to be a symbol of bringing peoples who were historically enemies together, but where were the Mamool Ja to share it with? And why did none of the Mamool Ja present seem to know how to create the recipe?

There is a peace, but here we see that it is a flawed peace. In the side quests, you learn that trade happens between the Mamool Ja and the Xbr'aal, but only in secret. The younger generation knows peace, but the older generation is still cagey about the not all that distant history with their neighbors in the forest.

And so the Mamool Ja still continue their practice of enduring the terrible loss of so many stillbirths in an attempt to create more blessed siblings. Their culture, especially the remnant that chooses to remain in the forest, is still trying to make its place in the larger world and improve their lot. They are still living in a land that makes for harsh conditions for living.

And in this we see a few things. One, Gulool Ja Ja is not perfect. He did a good job, but not a great one. The work of peace is going to need to be an ongoing project. And two, I believe it sets the foundation for why Zoraal Ja is the way he is.

He was not raised in Mamook, but he is still Mamool Ja. And like Gulool Ja Ja, he is a miracle. The trueblood son of a blessed sibling, who were long believed to be sterile. We don't know anything about his mother, and I suspect she had little influence on his life. But judging from the way the fight against him goes, and the visions we see of the people in his life, he may not have had a mother, singular, but I think he definitely had nursemaids.

And they certainly remembered what life was like in Mamook. And that history is not so old. And so early on, he is told he is special. He is told he is destined for great things. And probably, at least a little bit, there are whispers of how he might surpass his father one day.

The seed of a terrible imposter syndrome is planted.

And none of what happens requires Gulool Ja Ja to be a bad parent. In fact, I think what we get is the result of him trying to be a good parent. It seems likely he probably met his kids where they were at, encouraged their interests, and let them be who they wanted to be. Wuk Lamat probably sparred with him, and certainly got his sociable, outgoing tendencies. Koana, quiet Koana, I like to imagine he expressed an interest in sciences, and knowledge, and Gulool Ja Ja probably made sure he had the best tutors, and when the time came, made sure he had a good send off to Old Sharlayan.

And quiet, taciturn Zoraal Ja who rarely speaks. I can imagine Gulool Ja Ja let his son keep his peace. He probably assumed his son wanted his space, and left him to it. And Zoraal Ja, the miracle, watched his father. His father's living accomplishment was peace in Tural. Zoraal Ja will bring peace to the entire star. Gulool Ja Ja loves a good fight, enough that he challenges people to come to the palace and face him. Zoraal Ja will be a better fighter than his father. Gulool Ja Ja was a leader. Zoraal Ja is the leader of the Landsguard, and will succeed his father as Dawnservant.

It's interesting, I think, to compare and contrast Zoraal Ja with Bakool Ja Ja, who are more alike than they are different. Both are miracle children, both are impossible children. The Mamool Ja thought that a child born of Hoobigo and Boonewa was impossible - until the birth of the first blessed sibling. And they also believed a blessed sibling, in turn, was sterile - until the birth of Zoraal Ja, the miracle.

And both of them, I think, are carrying the weight of their people with them. Bakool Ja Ja explicitly, but I don't think Zoraal Ja got to escape it just because he was raised in Tuliyollal instead of Mamook. Even if the aforementioned nursemaids did not explicitly put the idea in his head that he might be the future of the Mamool Ja, he is not an idiot. They definitely told him he was a miracle, destined for great things.

And absent guidance from his father, who probably just wanted him to be his own person, he decided for himself what those great things would be.

Zoraal Ja is intent on completing them alone - to his ultimate detriment, in the trial in Mamook.

And while they are so very similar, the difference between Bakool Ja Ja and Zoraal Ja is that Bakool Ja Ja not only never wanted this, but he was eventually offered a path out. A way to be free of the yoke of the responsibilities his culture put upon him before he was ever even born. But Zoraal Ja never got that chance, because his burdens were not being forced upon him. He took them upon himself.

And he carried them until his death.

In the end, Gulool Ja Ja was probably a decent father, but not the right kind of father for Zoraal Ja. Zoraal Ja's ambition was born of a terrible inferiority complex that he nursed until it festered and swallowed him whole. He could have found his own freedom, but he could not see it past the shadow of his own father, who he was obsessed with eclipsing.

And so we're left with this. Zoraal Ja died in a completely avoidable tragedy of his own making.

[sunsetsover]

there's something about that scene in the pool. bc like. bison and kant are recreating the car scene from titanic. and kant is supposed to be jack and bison is supposed to be rose. and bison takes kant's hand and kisses all his fingers like rose does jack. but the thing is that bison isn't laying in kant's arms like rose is laying in jack's. it's kant that's laying in bison's arms. kant who is held and kissed like rose is. kant who's hand slams against the window - and it's pretend and it's a question but still. he's still asking aren't you gonna do that to me too? and bison is like sure, once i have you in a real car. and it's like. when did kant become rose? when did bison become jack? at what point did things change?

obviously kant lying on bison's chest is supposed to be a neat parallel to the swing scene. but i think it's more than that. and i admit i am famous for reading too much into things, but i think it's probably kind of lowkey a commentary on their relationship too. bc like... kant and bison have never fit into a neat little box when it comes to their relationship OR their sexual dynamic. even sitting here i'm having a hard time articulating it properly bc it's like... it's own little thing. you just have to see it and let it talk for itself. and i think some people have a hard time w that, either bc they don't like unorthodox relationship dynamics (boring!) or they're so locked into what a relationship between 2 men is 'supposed' to be like (and this goes doubly so where kantbison r concerned imo bc of the age and the size difference) that they can't understand what they're seeing in front of them. bison lays in kant's arms and it's 'see! how can bison be a dom! he just thinks that's what he wants bc of the trauma of his upbringing but he's clearly the baby!'. which is just like... crazy to me.

bc can you not feel it? can you not feel that kant is literally completely at bison's mercy? how, while clearly bison isn't super interested in maintaining a dom/sub dynamic outside of sexual situations, there's always an undercurrent of it anyway now? of kant being completely tuned into bison's frequency? bc yes, it's true that kant does baby bison physically with all his kisses and affection and the way he tucks him under his arm and helps him flip fish and hold the hammer at the arcade bc it's too heavy. but it's also true that he kind of behaves like a kid around bison sometimes. he whines and he brags and he pouts and he makes silly jokes. it's always kinda been there, but over the past few episodes you can really see it in their little moments together. how he acts immature. how he rambles. how he seeks bison out. bc it's safe now! bc he trusts bison to look after him! he knows now he can be silly and brattish bc that's how bison likes him! he doesn't have to be cool or suave anymore. he can put it all down and let himself be looked after for once.

and don't get me wrong, it's subtle! and it's not constant! their personalities are still undoubtedly there - kant still still looks after bison, and bison also still pouts and whines and acts childish in his own way. but it's different now. there has just been this very subtle shift that's probably come as a result of the truth being out and all being forgiven and also probably bison proving that if kant safewords, he really will stop - even in the most extreme of situations. and i think the scene in the pool really epitomizes that shift for me.

bc they're comfortable like that now. all that apprehension they both used to have in the early eps is completely gone. and so kant plays jack and bison plays rose, but when bison pulls kant through that metaphorical window, the dynamic changes. what was just a background hum starts to buzz louder between them. bison kisses his fingers like rose does, but instead of being held, he's the one holding, and that's on purpose. they both know it. so kant lets himself be held now. lets himself be doted on and kissed stupid. and it clearly affects him quite a lot bc you see him swallow heavily twice and his eyes keep slipping closed and for a few seconds you see him go all hazy eyed and distant. and when bison assures him he WILL fuck him once he gets him in a real car he hits him with the 'you promise 🥺️'. like how am i not supposed to say sub idk.

anyway. this was rambly and idk if it made any sense to anyone but me but i just think the way kantbison's relationship dynamic is not being clean cut or easy to pinpoint while it's also still always clear as fucking day exactly what is going on is so neat. and also kant is undeniably bison's big baby <3

[crazilust]

Analyzing celebrities’ fashion according to their venus signs (pt.1)

I believe you can tell alot about someone just by looking at the clothes they've choose to wear. Let's analyze different celebrities' fashion and their venus sign (as well as the degree they're in) and give you some advice on how you can incorporate it in your own fashion style.

Aries venus

Audrey Hepburn

Even though we associate Aries venus with a very flamboyant style (and trust me, they can be and most of them are), I found important to put Audrey Hepburn as an example of someone who’s mastered the minimal, elegant fashion. Aries are very determinate and passionate individuals and once they have their eyes set on something, they’ll achieve it at all cost. I found it relevant in Hepburn’s style, because to me she achieved the quintessential minimalist fashion. She was able to balance being minimal while not being boring and basic, while staying true to herself. I think that’s one of the main strength of Aries venuses. They have to stay true to themselves, and when they do, they’re able to master their own fashion sense.

Also interesting to note that her venus is in a capricorn degree, which could also explain the more minimalist route.

Lady Gaga

On the other side of the spectrum, we’ve got Lady Gaga who also represents Aries venus perfectly. Her ability to tell a story with her clothes has become something we know and associate her for. Again, even if it’s completely different to Hepburn’s, you can still very much see Gaga’s need to be authentic to herself. Her style is a bit more tone down (see picture on the top right), but it’s still close to who she is as a person. It just evolved. Her willingness to be weird and over the top despite the constant misunderstanding of others and nagging, demands a lot of bravery and if that's not an Aries venus in a nutshell, I don't know what it is.

Her venus is in a Piscean degree (24), which could explain her intrinsic desire to use fashion as an art form and always push its boundaries.

Final take

If I were an Aries venus, I would take a long time reflecting on what I truly like, what type of person I am and how I want to be seen before buying anything. I would forget the trends and start investing in personal development in order to see how I could translate that into my clothes. Am I more a lowkey, mysterious kind of person? Flamboyant and over the top? The moment I’d be able to choose at least three words to describe me, I’d start building my closet around them and remind myself that I can go to extremes if I damn wanted to.

Taurus venus

Princess Diana

As a fellow Taurus venus, I’d be lying if I said that Princess Diana is not one of my main inspiration. To me, she represents perfectly what Taurus venus is all about. Simplicity, elegance and effortlessness. There’s a simplicity here, an ease that is very admirable from Princess Diana. It’s almost like she just threw this on but looks phenomenal as a result. It’s polished, but not forced at all and that’s where Taurus’ strength lies. Making it look easy. I also added her biker short outfit to represents Taurus’ need for comfort, but why not make it look cute? Also monochromatic looks to add that touch of put togetherness.

With her venus in 24 degrees (Pisces), we notice her tendency to break the mold and transcend beyond people's expectations. With today's eyes, it doesn't seem that groundbreaking, but at the time, and especially for a Royal, it was cra-zy (also the first one to be known for her fashion!)

Prince

What I wanted to focus on by putting Prince is his sensuality that I feel is overlooked alot when we talk about Taurus Venus. Or it's taken for granted almost. They have this little je-ne-sais-quoi that is so attractive and again, so effortless. Prince mastered this aspect so much and I find it very interesting. His clothes were a direct translation of how he felt about himself. Showing a little skin there, some see-through blouse here. Nothing extremely vulgar, but you get the message. I also wanted to put him there because whenever we think of Taurus venus celebrities, we always reference the most stereotypical ones like Ariana Grande and Lana del Rey. They most obviously embody the Venusian energy, but if you don't like this aesthetic, you can definitely be a little bit more out there just like Prince did.

With his venus in 7 degree, being a Libra degree, Prince was doubling down on his venusian energy, amping up the charm and sensuality while still being seen as charming.

Final take

What I would do (and should start to do actually) as a Taurus venus is focus on the quality of the clothes I put on my body, no matter the aesthetic or fashion choices. At the end of the day, Taurus look fabulous and effortlessly glam, but in order to enhance this trait, it's going to be important to invest in quality pieces in order to emanate this energy. I understand that not everybody wants to invest in clothes, but there's many ways you can do this without breaking the bank : thrift stores, depop, vinted (it might just take longer). Some signs can get away with cheap clothes, distressed clothing, but as Taurus venus, it definetely looks messy and not necessarily in a cute, grunge way lol.

Gemini venus

Margot Robbie

To my surprise, there's actually a lot of supermodels or sex icons/bombshells who possess a Gemini Venus. I say to my surprise, because I always see Geminis as kind of quirky, but it's true, they do embody the perfect balance of being hot but approachable (the twins archetype after all). It's like they can very well be the nerdy shy girl and the bombshell the next minute. I think you can actually see that in Margot Robbie's style where it's very Girl-Next-Door, but with an edge. The monochromatic pink look is to die for but switch the palette for a neutral look, platform for regular slippers and it's not as eye-catching. Without these two small details, you get a very basic look. I would've expected flamboyance, but from what I saw from these celebrities (ex: Kristen Bell, Sandra Bullock) is that they really embody the Model Off Duty vibes, where everything they put has a little edge to it while still appearing very approachable and mainstream. Which, when we think about it, is very reminiscent of Geminis.

Her Venus being in a Leo degree (8) could explain her tendency to want to be extra, lean more on the glamorous side and wear monochromatic colourful outfits

Megan Fox

Another route you could choose, as Megan Fox did, is to go push that Cool Girl fashion all the way and experiment fully with your closet, mixing and matching pieces with different textures and colours. Fox has always been known for her sex appeal and you can definitely see that in her fashion choices in the beginning of her career, but as of lately, she's been more avant-garde with her choices and honestly more fun. She definitely reminds me of the cool girls in my town walking around like they're just out of the fashion magazine, not giving a F about anything and you can't help but notice them.

Her venus is in 23 degrees, which is an Aquarius degree and could definitely explain her tendency to explore different styles and play with colours. Being very experimental.

Final take

What I would do if I were a Gemini Venus, is that I would learn my colours, my signature style and what goes best for my silhouette in order to put forward my best features. While this can be said for anyone, I think Gemini Venus is still very well thought out and in order to give that illusion of "I just got up", you're gonna have to know what makes you pop. As opposed to Taurus, for example, who can just rock an oversized hoodie and some boots and make it look elegant because that's what their energy gives off, Gemini is going to have to work a little bit harder. Experiment. Alot !

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

That's it from me folks, I'll post part 2 containing Cancer, Leo and Virgo venus very soon :)

[pistatsia]

OKAY so the only thing I want to say about yesterday's spoilers (Ness backstory) is that borderliner* Ness is canon now lol

✅ explosive anger

✅ feeling neglected, alone, misunderstood most of the time

✅ low self-esteem and the resulting self-hatred

✅ strong, overwhelming emotions

(feelings that can't be explained == too high (for average person) bursts of them. Inability to handle them)

✅ black and white thinking

(Isagi's either good (tosses to Kaiser) or bad (doesn't toss to Kaiser) lol)

✅ fear of abandonment + self-harm

✅ very intense, frequent, extreme emotional swings

(difference of one second)

(difference of one second pt.2)

✅ maladaptive daydreaming

✅ determining one's value through relationships with others

✅ unstable relationships

I'm really disappointed that chapter haven't shown Ness' attempts to gain his parents and siblings love but, eh, okay. I can work with that

*

A little background on who people with borderline personality disorder are and where do they come from. (Of course, each case is unique. I'm talking about the average manifestation of the disorder here.)

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a type of personality disorder in which a person is unstable, hypersensitive, highly anxious, and has no sense of self (no feeling of identity). One in ten patients end up committing suicide.

In fact, borderliners are people with no emotional skin. What for a stable person is a small domestic nuisance - for a borderliner is boundless terror, fear, a complete sense of helplessness and overwhelming self-loathing. Are you sick? It's your fault, you're worthless. You forgot your pass and had to buy an underground ticket? You're disgusting, step under a train right now. You forgot the food in the fridge and it spoilt? Don't you dare eat for another three days, punish yourself, cut yourself because you're nothing. That's not an exaggeration, it's true. And then you see an advert with a doggy and you laugh until you cry and all is fine.

It's like that dozens of times in one day.

Why do borderliners work this way? Heredity plays a role (which in Ness's case can be seen, for example, by the fact that he reacted acutely to some things even as a child), but to a greater extent, of course, the family, because when BPD is treated in the early stages, it is more easily reduced to remission (but does not disappear completely - it is like the core of the personality). Speaking of family types, typically borderliners come out of families with a narcissistic parent or the same borderline. Why exactly is that the case?

Because life with a narcissist/borderliner parent is an endless battlefield in which the child is forced to survive. Any emotion you have, if it doesn't fall under the parent's incomprehensible ideas, is repulsive. Any request you make and attempt to speak your mind is a violation of all laws and the worst offence. Today you're the golden child, tomorrow you're trash. Today your mom says she loves you, and tomorrow she blames you for divorcing your dad. Today dad likes the tea you made him, tomorrow he'll throw it in your face. It's a constant violation of personal space, an inability to have privacy, an impossibility to defend your interests - and yet a staggering neglect, a removal of the child from your life. Parents in such families usually divide their children into "golden" and "outcast" children, emphasising in every possible way how terrible the lousy sheep of the family (the outcast child) is, and encouraging bullying by their siblings.

Sounds similar to Ness's story, doesn't it?

In such families, the child by the age of 6 or 7 already knows that he is disgusting, horrible, and must do anything to avoid being abandoned - because the parents emphasise in every possible way that he is horrible, but they (for now) keep him out of mercy. A child learns by the slightest movement of the eyebrows and corner of the mouth to know when mom loves you and when she hates you, when dad is good and when he's bad.

The childhood of such children is a battlefield, and they come out of it emotionally disabled. For example, a very common consequence of living in such a family, in addition to BPD, is PTSD. Yeah, like war veterans.

(and by the way, borderliners VERY often end up paired with… Narcissists. Because it's a familiar love-hate game. And on top of that, also a beautiful (non-existent) personality to take a bite out of for your non-existent self))

[celestetumbledryer]

batfamily(´∀｀=)

TL;DR i have encountered a predominantly white area of this fandom. If possible, please humanise poc characters like you do or would love to the rest of the cast. please scroll to the bottom of this wall of text to see the inspiration for this post as well as some amazing batfamily blogs!!!!

hello!! i don’t usually make posts by myself, but i am not longer secretly passionate about this topic. this post is more about POC issues than batman. upon saying that, i will only really cover batfamily characters that the stereotypical fandom engages with.

it is ironic that i would usually just skim through a post this length so think of this as a brain…dump..? ehe. also, i have an small device so this post may seem longer to me than it is to you.

i know that i am fairly new to this part of the DC fandom, but i assure you, much unlike many other tumblr blogs, i actually do read comics!

i have been getting into batman family related comics and decided to see some fan content because i loved seeing people with shared interests!!!!

unfortunately, like any place on the internet, i have encountered prejudice and shallowness(i may contribute a little to the latter hehe….)

1.

The Kane(Batwoman) Family are non/practicing Jewish. They are also ethnically Jewish, though i am apologetic to say that i am not sure of the exact ethnicity.

2.

i am aware of Richard Grayson/Robin/Nightwing’s Romani heritage(I couldn’t find a reliable source regarding a specific group, sorry!😖 most likely Kalderash!). This character (sadly, among many others) has been heavily objectified in both the fandom and the canon. Romani characters still have often been reduced to racist jokes and stereotypes in fiction. One thing I'd like to share is the cooking thing from my last post. I feel like cooking is a great skill to have when representing culture. It's okay to be clumsy or not the best at cooking. Not always achieving a good result when cooking is fine. However it is a life skill. Only ever ordering takeout is not the most healthy for anyone especially someone who needs alot of energy and nutrients. Take care of yourselves !

3.

Cassandra Cain/Batgirl/Orphan is usually characterised as reserved and non-verbal in the fandom space. I don’t hate this, but unfortunately leans towards a generally negative archetype in Asian women characters.

She is often depicted using very repetitive and simple words. Though her struggles with language have been portrayed through her comics, she is able to form grammatically correct sentences. Please do not infantilise this character. this is not just a problem with fiction; it happens too much with Asian people in reality. i have no ill intention against agere.

She does take things to the extreme if she so desires. You just couldn’t handle a strong traumatised woc/hj.

people really don’t like it when i say that i like this character. i have received threats. i wonder why..

Not really related, but I’d like to say that ASL is not objectively easier to learn than spoken languages regarding a popular headcanon.

4.

i've seen a lot of headcanons of a Latino Jason Todd/Red Hood(i don’t really have anything against this), so i looked more into it. I've seen people say they enjoy this headcanon simply "because he is poor" which i'm sure is not in all what it means to be Latino. i cannot speak for this group; i hope my message is received well.

5.

i’ve seen popular headcanons of a Black Steph Brown/Spoiler. i don’t really have anything to say about this. what are your thoughts?

6.

Black hair, bowl cut, intelligence and under 6ft are reasons I’ve seen people headcanon Tim Drake/(Red) Robin(which writers intended to be Jewish) as NEAsian. i think you can infer why. However, it is not a problem whether you fit into a specific group in within your identity or not.

7.

i’ve been told by multiple people that Duke Thomas/Signal is nothing more than a “token Black” character which is in itself a trope stemming from racism. Black characters are often reduced to a comic relief given little or no depth. i understand that he is a character only introduced in the last decade so there are not as many iterations compared to other bat family members, but it doesn’t make him any less interesting to be explored!

8.

I generally dislike the “demon spawn” super serious characterisation of a child Damian al Ghul Wayne/Robin. Yes, he is traumatised, but he is still a child. i know that in some iterations he is quite uptight or arrogant. this does not stop him from being a youngest child. i don’t think he would have the emotional spectrum of a rock. i believe that he is a quarter Arab(and/or Iranian??) and Han Chinese!

*this post has many flaws, please leave a message in replies or my dm if you are upset or would like to add and edit to this post!!!!

this post was inspired by @/zoomiie.net on tiktok. they explained it much better than i could ever.

“you could tell if a specific fandom in particular is explicitly majority white by the way they treat their POC character[s]”

link to video will be in notes

“let people have fun”

i do not intend to stop you.

i am speaking out about the casual racism present in fandom spaces.

here are some dc comics blogs that do not stop me from having fun.

@numberonedukethomasapologist Len creates a blog focused on the bat family character Duke Thomas(The Signal) that humanises the character in his unapologetically Black culture. it is actually the first batfamily blog i encountered !! please go support him PLEAS PLea p

@brucestalia is a Talia al Ghul centric blog that is very active(multiple posts a day), usually posting about BruTalia. the ship is usually presented with visual media, song lyrics and fan fiction.

@nightwingsgypsyrep the usertag speaks for itself! she doesn't have many posts, but there are some fun Romani Grayson(x Kory) moments !!

Holy racism, Batman!

Celeste Tumble Dryer ☆〜（ゝ。∂）