#I’m so fascinated by her and maybe a little bit in love

[infinite--92]

At the science and development conference, Dr. Miranda Hale found herself in a rare position of being the center of attention. Her reputation in the medical community had grown, especially after the work she had done with Sophie, Emily, and their condition. The university had invited her to speak about the hormonal changes and experimental treatments that were still in the early stages, but with great potential. It was a topic that was both controversial and intriguing, drawing the interest of many in the academic world.

Miranda, though usually shy and reserved, had become more comfortable with public speaking over time. She stood at the podium, explaining the scientific principles behind her work with clarity and passion. Her hands were steady as she clicked through her slides, her voice confident, though a little quieter than some of the other speakers. As the lecture went on, she could sense the curiosity and intrigue from the audience, especially as she described the unique phenomenon that Sophie and Emily were experiencing.

The Q&A

When the lecture ended, Miranda sat down at the front of the room for the Q&A session. A few questions came from the audience, some technical, others more personal in nature, all of them eager to understand the potential implications of her work.

One student in particular—a young man in his early twenties, wearing glasses and a casual blazer—had been asking several follow-up questions. He seemed particularly focused on the details of the hormonal adjustments and the potential outcomes of the ongoing experiments. His questions were sharp and precise, showing that he had a genuine interest in the subject. His enthusiasm was almost contagious, and Miranda found herself engaged in the exchange, enjoying the intellectual challenge.

After a while, however, his questions took a more personal turn, hinting at an unusual curiosity about the human side of the research. He asked about how the women involved in the study felt about the changes, how they had coped with the rapid physical transformations, and whether any of them had formed a deeper connection to the process itself. Miranda answered carefully, always sticking to the scientific facts, but it was clear that this student was more interested in the personal implications of the research.

After the Conference

Once the conference had concluded, most of the attendees filed out of the lecture hall, eager to continue networking or head to the next session. Miranda was gathering her notes when she noticed the same male student from earlier approaching her.

"Dr. Hale," he said, his voice a bit more nervous now that the formalities of the Q&A were over, "I really appreciate your talk today. It was fascinating—so insightful."

Miranda offered a polite smile. "Thank you. I'm glad you found it interesting."

The student hesitated for a moment before continuing, his eyes searching for the right words. "I—uh, I just wanted to say... I find your work really inspiring. And, well..." He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clearly gathering courage. "I think you're really attractive. And if you're open to it, I'd love to meet with you sometime. Maybe we could have coffee or dinner? Just to talk more, maybe—about your work, or anything else."

Miranda was momentarily taken aback. She had grown accustomed to intellectual admiration for her work, but this kind of personal compliment was new. She had been so focused on her research and the community she was building that the idea of romantic or personal attention from others had never really crossed her mind. She could tell from the student's expression that he was genuine, though perhaps a little too forward for her comfort.

Miranda smiled politely but firmly. "I appreciate the compliment, but I think it's important to maintain professional boundaries. I’m here to focus on my research and the work we’re doing, and I hope you understand that." Her tone was kind, but clear in its intention to redirect the conversation.

The student seemed slightly embarrassed but nodded quickly. "Of course, Dr. Hale. I understand. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"No, it's fine," Miranda reassured him, her voice softening. "It's just that I prefer to keep things professional, especially in academic settings. But I do appreciate your interest in my work."

The student gave a small nod, clearly trying to hide his disappointment. "Right, of course. Well, thank you again for the talk. It was really eye-opening."

Miranda smiled again. "You're welcome. I'm glad you found it valuable."

As the student turned to leave, Miranda took a deep breath. She was used to being respected for her intellect, but this encounter felt different. It was the first time in a long while that someone had expressed personal admiration for her outside of professional or academic contexts. While she appreciated the compliment, it made her realise that she wasn’t quite sure how to navigate this new territory. She had always been so focused on her work that personal matters like this hadn’t been on her radar. But perhaps, with the changes she was experiencing in her own life, it was time to reflect on how she might want to handle relationships, both personal and professional, moving forward.

As she packed up her things and prepared to leave, Miranda couldn’t help but think about the unexpected nature of this world she was now part of. It wasn’t just about science and development anymore—it was about navigating her own journey, both professionally and personally, and figuring out where her place was in it all.

[transgaledekarios]

There’s just something so compelling about characters so loyal like a dog. One who would even go so far as to undergo dangerous, permanent alterations to her body to become a better tool for the person to whom they’re so utterly devoted.

Laxasia who are you, I wanna know more about this fascinating lady. What drove her to this level of loyalty. Why would she go so far. The people need to know

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[nereidprinc3ss]

please don't say you love me

in which fwb!spencer reid and fem!reader get into an argument about the nature of their relationship.

18+ (implied intimacy) warnings/tags: friends with benefits arrangement, it goes bad, reader is so clearly anxious avoidant, reader is so me-coded, self-loathing, difficulties with emotional intimacy, arguing, derek and penelope make an appearance woo, a little dramatic, no happy ending (a nereidprinc3ss first!) a/n: it happened guys I stopped writing for a few days and last night randomly was inspired to finish this fwb piece and it essentially turned into a vent and went a completely different direction than i thought it would but here we are!!! i hope you enjoy, I loved writing, ilysm

“Are you reading it? Did you get to the part yet?” You ask, buzzing as you peer around Spencer’s arm to see where he’s at in the book you’d handed him. Sometimes you think it takes him longer to flip the pages than to read them. 

He doesn’t answer, but you see the flickering quirk of his lip like something is amusing him. It’s been a few minutes and he’s maybe halfway through. He has to have seen it by now. 

You’re clinging to his arm, eyes darting pointlessly between the text and his face, searching for a reaction. It comes in the form of a furrowed brow, a disbelieving smile, and something between a barking laugh and an exclamation of, “what?”

“You read it?”

His eyes narrow and he flips back a page, taking a bit longer to reevaluate. 

“Our moans and grunts drowned out the screams of the dead and dying only a few hundred feet away.”

You giggle furiously, clapping a hand to your mouth when you snort, and you feel Spencer’s focus shifting to you, even with your eyes screwed shut. 

“And you read this whole series?”

At that you sober up some, still hiding the bottom half of your face and brows drawn sorrowfully as mirthful tears well. You’re slow to admit your guilt with a nod, and his expression is somewhere between horror and fascination. 

Your cheeks heat and you cover your face, laughing again and shaking your head shamefully as he ridicules you. 

“Why? Why would you do that to yourself? I don’t even know if I can be seen in public with you, that’s—” he’s haphazardly tossed the book back on its display table and grabbed your wrists, pulling gently and laughing too. “No, show me your face. This is—you need to explain yourself. This is unforgivable.” 

“No! I swear it was a morbid curiosity, I didn’t like it, I’m sorry! I—”

“Reid?”

You both freeze. 

It’s not the most dignified position, admittedly—hidden among the shelves in a bookstore, pressed too close to be friendly, his hands around your wrists. 

So you don’t mind when he drops them like hot potatoes and gives you a few inches of breathing room. 

“Hey! Uh—you’re—”

Spencer is looking between you and two other people at the end of the aisle—a quirky bespectacled blonde in a flouncy polka-dot dress and her taller companion, ripped and head shaved, sporting some impressive eyebrows. Right now they’re conspicuously raised—his eyes are also pinballing between you and Spencer. 

For a moment, everyone is just sort of… looking at each other. 

It’s a little bit… awful?

Finally Spencer clears his throat. 

“Um, what are you guys doing here? Just… looking at books?”

Something is off, and you feel like shrinking or running, but you just stay glued to your spot. 

In sync, they hold up copies of the same book—and it takes you not a second to place the author’s name, in imposing red font at the bottom like it’s important. Rossi. 

The pieces click into place. These must be Spencer’s co-workers—Penelope and Derek, if his descriptions of the team have served you well. Part of you is starstruck. Part of you is embarrassed. They’re clearly shocked to see Spencer with a girl in the wild, so you know he hasn’t told them about you—and why should he, you think, why should he tell his friends about the girl he’s been sleeping with for months now? 

Finally, the blonder half of the duo speaks. 

“You’re—this is a girl. That’s. Who is that? Hi! Who are you?”

She’s literally pointing at you, eyes drifting between you and Spencer like it just doesn’t make any sense. Derek gives her a look and gently pushes her hand down. 

“Hey. That’s enough.” Then he offers you a polite smile, though you sense a bit strained, and his eyes too keep wandering back to the man next to you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no! You’re not… interrupting…” Spencer trails off and you sense he’s looking at you and gauging a reaction but you’re just smiling idly at his friends and waiting for this to be over. He finally thinks to introduce you by name, and you offer a shy wave and a smile to your new acquaintances. 

Penelope points (that damn finger again) but this time it’s less accusatory, and stays below chin level. 

“Cool shirt. I love that band,” she offers genially. Your brows raise and you look down, trying to remember what shirt you’d tossed on before leaving Spencer’s apartment an hour ago. 

“Oh! Thanks,” you smile, and you’re relieved to mean it this time. 

Another frosty silence begins to descend, but Derek doesn’t let it settle so much this time, to everyone’s satisfaction. 

“Alright, well. It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your date.”

There’s too much weight on the last sentence, and Derek gives Spencer a eyebrows-raised-meaningfully look you don’t understand. You’re just glad Spencer keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t immediately insist that it’s not a date, because it’s not, and that’s fine, but the vehement denial would bum you out. 

The pair walk away in the kind of clenched silence that means they’ll start fervently whispering as soon as they are out of ear shot. You watch their retreating figures and chew your lip, sensing that the carefree and playful energy of five minutes ago will have evaporated by the time you turn back to face your companion. 

“Strange,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, and you’re slightly jarred when Spencer replies from beside you. 

“Which part?”

All of it. 

Turning to face him, you smile, and it doesn’t reach your eyes but it doesn’t need to. 

“Oh—nothing, sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, only stares at a point somewhere above your head and narrows his eyes like he’s thinking unpleasant thoughts. 

“Was I an asshole, to you, just now?”

It’s unexpected. You don’t have an answer prepared, so you say something that feels like a lie because you can’t prove that it’s not the truth. 

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know. I get weird around them, sometimes. I don’t always know what to say, like, when my personal life and my work life intersect, because for a long time I didn’t really have a personal life. And I think they still think I don’t know how to talk to girls, so…”

“You don’t know how to talk to girls,” you remind him. “Let’s go look at the puzzles.”

Maybe you spend too much time with Spencer Reid. Maybe that’s the problem—too long in his presence and he’s eating away at your neural tissue like you’ve got cysticercosis and he’s the T. solium (a terrible thing he had explained to you a few weeks ago.)

Maybe you need a break from him, to stop breathing his air and sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothing, because you’re forgetting that he’s not the entire world and that is a very bad thing to forget in a situation like yours. The entire world cannot be the size of his apartment. 

But you also just like him so much. As a friend, of course. That goes without saying. You like his strange sense of humor, and the way he lights up when you ask him an obscure question. You like your legs across his lap while you watch his old shows. You also like being kissed by him, and hugged by him. You like being taken care of like no one has ever taken care of you, and you like the way he always touches you, soft and kind and so on purpose. 

You never meant to like him so much. 

This affection—it has grown, insidious and parasitic, and now that it’s been pointed out to you like a lump in your side, it’s impossible to ignore. 

What you and Spencer have works precisely because you’ve kept things platonic and casual. That way, there’s no worrying about emotional baggage or arguing about feelings because there are none to be found and no precedent that any such things should or need to occur. You can’t hurt each other’s feelings if your feelings aren’t on the table. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about earlier?

Why can’t you help caring that he’s been keeping you a secret from the people he loves most?

“So, essentially the book is his first deep dive into meta-fiction. It was pretty revolutionary at the time, and while not his most celebrated novel, I’d argue it was his most relevant and culturally pervasive. I’d actually love to hear your interpretation of the story—it’s truly different for everyone. It’s a little like… like a literary Rorschach test. Do you wanna borrow it?”

You’re a tangle on his bed—arms, legs, sheets—it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. All you’re sure of is his hand, tracing his fingers in chaste lines, feather-light up and down your inner thigh in the way he knows you like. Usually it’s so soothing you melt and fall asleep within minutes. Right now it’s only stoking some sparking electrical fire in your chest—the buzzes and bursts from which have you on edge. Ready to cave in at any second. You wish you could relax. You’ve been trying.

Spencer is in no hurry for you to respond, and so doesn’t seem to mind when it takes you a long while to find your answer. 

“I think I need to go home.”

It comes out too scratchy, as you haven’t really spoken for several hours. Not as casual as you were going for. He angles his head down toward you and his hand stops and you realize it’s actually worse like that. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything is fine, I just… I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight, I think.”

It’s late and you shouldn’t be making him drive you across town, but he’s always amenable to what you want. This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at his place, after all—a rare long weekend—and before that a few weeks had passed with no cases to speak of, during which time you’ve been staying with him more and more. Spencer seems to be completely content letting you eat his food and use his shower if it means you don’t leave. 

“I know the feeling well,” he admits, and your heart twinges with the care he takes to not bump or bend you or pull your hair as he shifts. He’s already been out of bed, and so is more dressed than you. Really, most people on the planet are more dressed than you, and you pull his nice sheet higher up your chest as he sits on the edge of the mattress, looking down at you and with a sort of worry in his eyes. He finds your knee through the fabric. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Stop paying such close attention, you want to tell him. And in the same breath, please don’t ever look away. 

“I’m… good.”

It is easily the least convincing performance of your life. Either you’re self sabotaging or you want him to push you further, and you don’t know which is worse. 

When his brow ramps just the slightest bit, you know you’ve fumbled it. 

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug. “I don’t need you to.” And then you sit up, still holding the sheet to your chest. “Can you hand me a shirt?”

Enough clothing has accumulated around the room recently that he could pretty much reach out in any direction and find something for you to wear.  He grabs a sweatshirt hanging from the bedpost and holds it out for you, and you pull it over your head, before dropping your feet onto the cool wooden floor and grabbing the first bottoms you see—a pair of floral pajama shorts. How have so many of your clothes ended up at his apartment?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You scoop your bag up from a chair and flit around the room, haphazardly stuffing away discarded clothing to take back home. It’s true that it’ll be nice to get back to your stuff—your shower products and your closet and your silk pillow cases. You shouldn’t be spending so much time here. It’s not your space and you’ve been sacrificing your own needs to be closer to him, which is something you’d rather not do for any man. 

“You can drive me home. I’ll send you gas money.”

“You don’t need to send me gas money,” he says, tacking your name on to the end of the sentence in a way that raises your hackles instantly. 

“Yeah, I do. You drive me around constantly. I’ll pay you back and start taking the metro, or something.”

“I don’t want your money,” he scoffs. 

“Fine. Then I’ll call a car.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m happy to drive you.”

“Why?”

Silence hangs. Spencer has by this point stood up, and he’s watching you with a furrowed brow and slightly parted lips like he doesn’t understand where this animosity has come from. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure either. You didn’t realize you were harboring so much of it. 

“Am I supposed to see you as an inconvenience?”

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“No. You’re not. We have a relationship and I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you sure as hell were thinking it. 

It feels good to say, like stretching a sore muscle beyond its limits or pressing into a bruise until you get past the ache. Sometimes when things hurt, it’s best to feel the pain and move on. 

He looks absolutely perplexed, the lines between his brows only ditching deeper. 

“Is that what this is about?”

“Oh my god, Spencer, no, I don’t care—”

“Because earlier at the bookstore I asked you if I was being an asshole and—”

“I do not give a fuck about earlier at the fucking bookstore!”

It’s too late to be yelling, but he doesn’t scold you. He just sort of looks at you, like you’re something mildly unpleasant. It makes you feel worse. 

A long moment goes by. 

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

You let him brush past you, nothing more than a breeze on your shoulders as he disappears from the darkened bedroom. For a moment, you can’t follow him. All you can do is stand there and try to contain that sour, stinging, crying feeling in your eyes and nose because there’s no reason for you to be crying right now. 

From the living room, he calls, rather abrasively, “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” you huff, and it is as wavering as it is insolent, so obviously the only word holding back a full-fledged deluge of tears. 

One minute. One minute to sniffle and take deep breaths and wipe abashedly under your eyes because you refuse to be dramatic about this. Refuse to get over-emotional. You will not let it matter this much to you. 

When you decide you can show your face without making a scene, you march out of his bedroom and straight past where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, keys in hand, to the front door. 

He doesn’t move. You burn smoking holes into the dark wood of the door with your eyes, and the two of you are apparently at an impasse. 

“I’m ready,” you eventually snap, always the impatient one between the two of you, casting a sharp glance over your shoulder. 

“I’m not.”

“You said you would—”

“I know what I said,” Spencer cuts you off and shuts you up, “and I changed my mind. I’d prefer to talk about it before I take you home.”

By the time he finishes the sentence you’re already wrestling your phone from the depths of your bag in search of a ride sharing app. 

“Okay, well I’m done talking because I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, so—”

“No, you’re done talking because this is what you do. You can never admit it when you want something because that would mean acknowledging that you’re a human being with emotions, and that’s too scary for you.”

Surely you misheard him. You turn around, a deep frown contorting your features. 

“Excuse me?”

He only looks at you in that expectant, knowing way of his. 

“It’s too scary so you run away. You’d rather burn your relationships to the ground and rebuild them with a new person every time than actually let someone in.”

“You don’t know me!” You yell.

“Do you actually think that’s true?” Spencer says, pushing off his perch against the counter, voice shrilling and raised slightly as he gets visibly agitated. “You think I’ve spent hours upon hours with you and I don’t know you at all?”

“You have no idea what I’m like in a relationship because this isn’t one. You have no fucking idea what I want, so do not presume to,” you seethe. 

“You want a relationship. You wanted my friends to know you and you didn’t tell me that because you’re fucking terrified of the fact that I do know you. You can’t stand the idea that regardless of how many times you tell yourself it’s just sex, you have been vulnerable with me, and you’ve told me things you’ve never told anyone before, like why your last three relationships really ended, and how you constantly self-sabotage when you’re on the verge of getting what you want because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up!”

“No. I’m not just going to let you walk away from me like you did everyone else who could’ve ever cared about you because I know once you walk out that door you’ll stop responding to my calls and texts and I’ll never see you again, which is a juvenile pattern and completely unsustainable if you don’t want to keep pushing people away for the rest of your life!”

“God, Spencer, stop!” You sob, staggering back like you’ve been stabbed. 

The urgency, the raw, desperate scratch of your voice, stops him in his tracks. 

Every place an arrow penetrated a chink in your armor aches, and it hurts so much worse because he knew exactly where they were. You don’t know when or how it happened, but he’s right. Despite your most valiant efforts, Spencer Reid knows you. Somehow he crept in and grew over every limb like ivy. It’s crawled over your feet and up your legs and it’s keeping you there, rooted in place in his apartment, sobbing silently into the crook of your arm because you feel utterly paralyzed with fear. 

Just as he’d said. 

It’s silent for a long stretch of time, unquantifiable the same way the distance between the beach and the horizon is unquantifiable. It’s sprawling and infinite and desolate. The only relief from the drowning quiet is the occasional gulp of air or gasp from you which furthers your humiliation. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer finally whispers, soft and unsure like rays of weak sunlight over staggered tides, in the grey morning after a raging storm. It’s an attempt. It’s earnest and afraid. 

The energy radiating off of him is so tangible that you can sense his desire to come near. To hold you. But that would be your worst nightmare come to fruition. This—this warbling and crying in front of him in silence in his dark apartment is god-awful enough. But to be comforted? For him to bear witness up close and personal to your humility and your ugly, jagged pieces—that inspires true catatonia. That is everything he said you were afraid of, and he was right. 

You resent your human nature, and the fact that you care how his friends look at you and that it stung when they did so with little more than apathy. You hate that you care that he hasn’t told them about you. You hate that you feel so unimportant—because more than anything, you want to be fine with being unimportant. 

You want to be fine. Constantly. 

You hate that you feel. You hate that you care. 

But you always have. And so fucking deeply. 

Somehow, Spencer Reid is the only one who has ever noticed. 

Eventually, his self-restraint snaps and he surges forward at the same time as you take a shuddering inhale and step back. 

“Please don’t touch me,” you whisper. Afraid that if he did, his fingers would only sink into your flesh like decaying fruit. That you would disintegrate in his hands, and he’d finally see you’d been rotten the whole time. 

He speaks softly, holding his hands up to show you he’s not a threat. 

“Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go home.”

“I’ll—”

“No. I don’t want a ride. I’ll get a car.” You speak quietly. Efficiently. There’s no point in pretending this doesn’t feel catastrophic anymore. 

His brows furrow. Like a moth to flame, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he draws nearer again. 

“I’m not comfortable with you on the street at this hour.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” you insist, pleading, a wounded animal, because he doesn’t seem to understand how every casual notion of kindness is a violence, how he’s ripping into you and making it so you’ll never be able to put yourself back together. He can’t be kind like you’re easy to be kind to. 

If you’re easy to be kind to, you are just as easy to hurt. Accepting that kindness is a sort of vulnerability you feel you can’t afford right now. 

Another moment of silence, of stillness, as if you’re both bolted to the ground where you stand. 

When he speaks it’s a blow to the chest because you’ve made him cry too. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quietly, and a venomous self-hatred drips down your throat. Because you’re doing it again.

Maybe this is all you will ever be. 

You fail to stifle a sob and Spencer steps closer still, saying your name desperately and so quietly like it’s his last rite. 

And you try. You try harder than you ever have to stay in one place, to get a hold of your vibrating and to swallow all those slithery feelings and ignore every alarm telling you to panic when he reaches out to touch your arm because it’s never safe to let people in. But when his hand finally brushes you, it’s like a cow prod. You jolt backward. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper all in one harrowed breath, and there’s so much you’d like to say—you’re right, about everything, you do know me, you know what I want, I tried, I’m ashamed—but none of it matters. None of it is enough. He’s backed you into a corner of your own making, and the only way out is by pushing him aside even if it hurts you both. 

So you don’t say anything else. You leave him there, in the dark of his own apartment, and you disappear down the hall. 

Maybe this is all you will ever be.

[greg-montgomery]

the latest hotch x sunshine reader fic?

u think u ate with that?

no.

U DEVOUREDDDDDD. GRRRRRRRRRRR

part 2 now mama i love u so much

bestieee thank you omg!!!! <3 i hope you like part 2!!

part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Spencer took a deep breath staring at his desk. On any other day it would be due to the amount of paperwork waiting for him, but this time it was a cup of his favorite coffee order, a muffin, and a chocolate croissant, all sitting right on top of the report he was working on.

He wasn’t ungrateful for the treats, but he would rather enjoy them if they weren’t accompanied by three pairs of wide eyes looking at him, while searching for answers in return.

Emily threw her head back dramatically. “Come on, give us something.”

“They’re on a date right now, aren’t they? That’s why he left early. I know you know,” Penelope said. “I know you do. Rossi knows too, but he won’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “Every time we ask he says nothing and just…smirks at us.”

“Please, you’re our last hope.”

Spencer took a bite of his muffin and smirked.

“You’re even worse than him,” Emily said and pointed at him.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go hack Hotch’s phone.”

“No, wait!”

--

Was it silly to start planning your wedding on a first date?

Maybe it was; you didn’t care. Because there was no way Aaron was not your future husband.

He did everything perfectly: he picked you up from your house, got you flowers, did not let you touch a door handle, paid for your dinner date, and let you play your music during the car ride.

Aaron also smiled a lot and the sight of it made you melt into your seat. It wasn’t often that a man gave you butterflies by just one look or with the sound of his laughter.

“What are you in the mood for now?”

The last thing you wanted was for the date to end, so instead of suggesting you walk back to his car you made a different offer.

“Let’s get ice cream!”

He chuckled, but you could already tell he would not say no to you. “Okay.”

You were walking side by side and even though you were already falling in love with his warm voice it was hard to pay attention to his words. Your mind was too occupied thinking about his arm swinging next to yours and how bad you wanted to hold hands with him.

Did he want it too? Would he think it’s childish to hold hands?

What if you just…did it?

Life’s too short, you thought and grabbed his hand.

Yes, you had not been paying attention to what he'd been saying but you did notice how he stopped mid-sentence when your hands touched. Was he mad?

Your heart was jumping against your chest, afraid you did something stupid. Aaron was quick to ease your anxiety, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently your hand.

He wanted this too.

He cleared his throat. “So it’s um…a good chance to…”

With the side of your eye, you caught him turning his head to stare at you. You hadn’t wiped the grin off your face from the sudden hand holding yet, and he saw it.

His dimples made an appearance, and as your grin got bigger you noticed he blushed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you giggled.

The sound of Aaron’s phone ringing interrupted your moment.

“Sorry, I have to get this,” he said.

You, of course, didn’t mind. Even though he hadn’t said so himself, you knew he had left right on time – early in Hotch’s terms - from work just for your date. Perks of being best friends with your date’s subordinate was getting to have this kind of inside information.

“Hotchner,” he said sternly.

You stayed quiet.

“What? I didn’t authorize this.”

Oh.

“No. And I trust this won’t happen again.”

Oh…Maybe you liked this side of him a little bit more than you should.

“Thanks,” he said, and hung up. “I’m sorry about that.”

I’m not.

“No, it’s okay! It’s fascinating observing you being a boss.”

“You like observing people?”

“Why, are you interested in hiring me?” you teased.

“Oh, I would never.”

“Why not?” you asked, acting offended.

“I would not be able to focus on a case with you around.”

You took advantage of the fact you were on a sidewalk and stopped walking, turning your body to face him. “And why is that?”

Aaron moved closer and dropped your hand only to cup the side of your head. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek and his eyes on yours made you feel dizzy.

“Because you take my breath away.”

And with his next move he took yours. Maybe you’d actually faint if he didn’t pull you in and place his lips on yours.

Your hands moved to his tie with the intention of pulling him even closer to your body. His kiss was heavenly and you really wouldn’t mind if you were to stay like that forever.

Yeah…there was no way Aaron Hotchner was not your future husband.

[spencereid-reads]

the whole world | s. reid

wc: 3.4k words // warnings: english isn't my first language! soooo much fluuuuuffinessss, swear words maybe? NOT proofread as you can see., a kid, spencer being cute, aaah idk what else, i think this sucks but it's mother's day today where i live and for some reason i couldn't stop thinking about dad!spence so this was born. (ha, that was unintentional)

dad!spence x mom!fem!reader

you’re not really sure what wakes you up.

if it’s the change of temperature in the bed, a sign that spencer had recently gotten up and started his day. or if it’s the small, soft footsteps running around the house.

you know it’s taking everything in your little hazel not to spoil the mother’s day surprise she’s been working on at school. one of the many features she and her father share is their fascination to talk and talk about anything and everything, and more often than not, you are the person they tell everything to. so your daughter had been in a bit of a predicament since you first picked her up from school on a monday afternoon.

“had fun today, haze?” you asked, buckling her into her seat in the back of your car.

“yeah,” she nodded, kicking her legs in the air.

“what did you do?” it was the same routine every day, and she was ready to begin telling you all about the new special project they started working on when suddenly she heard her teacher’s voice in her head.

‘it’s a surprise for mommy! you all have to try and keep it a secret!’

“can’t say.”

“what?” you asked, leaning back a little, letting her bag drop below her feet.

“miss tate said we can only tell daddy! mommy can’t know until it's mommy day.” she explained.

“ohhh, you’re working on something for mother’s day, lovey?” you smiled as you caressed her cheek, cupping her face with your hand, she leaned into it instinctively.

“...maybe.” she grinned at you.

“okay, honey. you know you can tell me if you want to talk about it, okay? i know you must be so excited, and i promise you i’m not going to be mad, i’m going to love it no matter what it is, got it?” you pressed a few kisses all over her face, your heart melting at the sound of her giggles. “or you can tell daddy when he comes home, he’s good at keeping secrets, you know?”

“yeah! i tell daddy”

and every day leading up to mother’s day, she tried to skip the subject about what she did at school, and as much as you loved that panicked expression on her face, the way her hazel eyes widened and cheeks blushed you decided not to torture her anymore.

she’s so easy to read. just like her father.

her perfect, loving father. who told you to take a day all to yourself that friday leading up to mother’s day, it was also the day when the kids were sent home with the project, so it would also give spence and hazel the chance to hide it and perfect it.

while you enjoyed a day at a spa, filled with massages and pampering, your little loves were at the mall looking for a gift.

“what would you like to give her, haze?” spence asked, looking at his daughter through the rearview mirror. “what do you think mommy would like?”

“well, green is her favorite color. so, green?”

“something green, that sounds nice,” he nodded, his chest nearly trembling as he stole glances at his daughter. five years in and he still found it hard to believe he had a daughter. a child. a perfect, beautiful, smart and kind daughter. who looked so much like him and so much like you at the same time. “i heard her tell auntie em she needed a new handbag.” he suggested,

“we can buy her a green handbag!”

“i think that’s an excellent idea, hazey.” spencer smiled, holding the steering wheel with one hand, the other stretched out towards his child. “high-five,” he said, and felt her tiny hand smack against his, “good girl,” he smiled proudly.

since hazel was still in your womb, you knew she’d be a tall girl. i mean, look at her dad! but at five years old, whilst hazel is tall compared to children her age, she looks tiny when standing next to spencer. her head reached just below his waist, and her arm hurt whenever she walking alongside him because spencer pulled her little hand up to meet his, but she had to stretch so far up and it was just the sweetest sight in the world.

it’s late when you got home that night, thirty minutes past hazel’s bedtime, yet the moment you stepped in you heard the sounds of her favorite cartoon coming from the tv.

blossom instructs her two sisters in a plan to defeat that day’s monster, and you expected to find your own little powerpuff girl running around the living room, but other than the tv, the rest of the house was silent. you kicked off your shoes, walking to the coffee table to turn the tv off when you saw them.

spencer with his back on the couch, somehow his legs bent but still managed to stay upright, and your daughter resting against his chest, his arms around her, keeping her close and safe.

and you took a second or two to soak in the view. spencer’s head was to the side, and hazel was pressed so far into his neck that it’s hard to point out where his curls end and hers begin.

you walked to them, your hand reaching to play with hazel’s hair as you leaned to press a kiss to spencer’s forehead. it’s scary how quickly they capture your undivided attention, just the sight of either of them was enough to make you drop whatever it was you were doing.

“hey,” spencer’s voice was groggy, sleep evident in it and in the way he struggled to peel his eyes open, like his eyelids were begging to stay shut.

“it’s okay, go back to sleep. i’ll take her,” you said, but felt a light tug on your wrist.

“c’mere,” he mumbled, scooting to the back of the couch and making space for you. you gave in, squeezing your way in and adjusting hazel on top of you so you don’t choke with her hair against your mouth. “had fun?” you felt spencer’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin, sneaking under your shirt.

“yeah. thank you, needed it,” you don’t know if it’s the busy day you had, or just the sight of your two loves sleeping that made you feel tired, too. you covered a yawn with the back of your hand. “you?”

“mhm,” he hummed in agreement, “hazey couldn’t decide on one thing. said you’d loved so many things. got you everything.”

“spence-” you scolded lightly.

“i know. but you should’ve seen her. too cute. too much like you.”

“like you, you mean.”

“hmm,” he opened one eye, pulling you closer, being careful with your girl on top of you. “like us. she’s got the best of us.”

and she does.

she’s funny and smart like spencer, kind and caring like you.

you don’t know where the sassiness came from, though.

(kidding, it’s all spencer, he wouldn't admit it)

“daddy, can i put a candle?” hazel asks, she’s done with placing the grapes into a bowl and looking for something else to add to your ‘mother’s day pavaganza’, a phrase she’d picked up from hearing auntie penny ask about your spa day, and had repeated to her spencer, who didn't have the heart to correct her when she sounded so adorable.

“i just know those little geniuses have a big mother’s day extravaganza planned for you,” she’d said, just as hazel entered the kitchen.

“on the pancakes?” spencer asks, she nods. “sure,”

the drawer slams a little louder than she’d intended, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ as her eyes widen in shock.

“sorry, daddy!” she runs to him, one hand on the stool she’s currently trying to climb, the other fisting spencer’s pajama pants. “here,” she hands him the pink birthday candle you’d used for her birthday cake.

“thank you, hazey,”

you chuckle as you listen to them, you can’t hear all of it, but you can tell she’s getting louder the more excited she gets. it’s only a matter of minutes before the chaos that had been in the kitchen joins you in your bedroom. you pretend to sleep, curling into spencer’s side of the bed, and closing your eyes.

“she’s asleep! daddy, can i wake her?” you hear her laughing when you fake snore.

“go ahead, haze, gentle,” he reminded her, even though he knew you were awake.

“mommy,” you hear her running to the other side of the bed, “mama,” she climbs in next to you, lying next to you, you feel her breath on your face. then she presses wet, sloppy kisses on your cheek, and you swoon.

“hmm, who's giving me such sweet kisses?” you ask, being met with a grinning hazel as you open your eyes.

“it's mommy day!” she exclaims, arms looping around your neck with a strength you hadn't expected, “love you mommy,”

“i love you too, my angel, so, so, so much,” you wrap your arms around your little girl and hug her tight, setting your back against the mattress. you kiss all over her face and head, her little hands sticky and stained in maple syrup and jam.

“made you mommy day food,” she laughed as you tickled her sides. “daddy!”

spencer has taken residence by the end of the bed, the tray filled with breakfast set carefully on his lap.

“happy mother's day, honey,” he whispered against your lips, once the tray has been set in front of hazel, who can't help but pick a few slices of fruit to help herself.

“thank you, love you,” you kissed him once more, running a hand through his hair as you turn to look at your girl. “is it yummy?” you ask her as she pops a grape in her mouth, she nods, “i bet it's cause you and your daddy made it.”

it's a few hours later, after you're all showered and dressed, that you go downstairs and find the living room all decorated, with balloons and strings and three pieces of paper stuck to the wall that read ‘happy’, ‘mommy’, ‘day’ in spencer’s handwriting, but drawings made by hazel surrounding the words.

“mommy close your eyes,” you're sitting on the couch, all the gifts that hazel couldn't choose from are now open and on the coffee table. turns out the other gifts had just been little trinkets, a headband, a small bracelet, a keychain. “it's time for the surprise!”

“what surprise? i didn't know there would be a surprise!” your heart melted at her laughter.

“daddy cover her eyes,” she orders, and spencer makes his way around the sofa, standing behind you, he leans down, tilting your head back and pressing his lips on your temple.

“i’ve got it, hazey,” he nearly purrs against your skin, and as spencer continues his soft attack on your face, you hear hazel running through the house, “we hid it in my office,” he pulls back a little, staring at you with so much love.

“thank you for today,” you whisper, your cheeks were now hurting from the permanent smile that had been on your face the entire day.

“it's nothing, you deserve the world, honey.” and he means it. when he was young he'd pushed the idea of love to the side, with his job and his lack of social skills it was hard to picture a future with a family, but here he was. thanks to you. “i love you so much, you've got no idea,” he leaned down again, this time kissing your lips, accomplishing two things at once.

kissing you, and getting you to close your eyes.

“ready mommy?” you'd been so wrapped up in your husband that you missed your daughter walking back to you.

you looked down to see a scrapbook (just a few colored paper sheets binded by ribbon), a picture of you and hazel on the cover, in the middle.

“angel, this is beautiful,” you coo through teary eyes, embracing her fully before you even looked at the rest of the book.

the three of you settled on the sofa, with hazel between you two as she explained why she picked the pictures, something she'd done with spencer’s help. the pages were decorated with crayon drawings, glitter hearts, and stickers.

the last picture brought even more tears to your eyes, you were sitting in a hospital bed, with spencer by your side, his hand wrapped around your back, the both of you staring down at the new little baby that had just been born.

hazel’s first ever picture.

“look at this, hazey, you were so tiny,” you swallowed a lump in your throat, “and look at you now, you're so big, my sweet girl.”

“daddy said this is the day you became a mommy,"

“technically i was a mommy when you were in my belly,” you patted your stomach, “but my entire life was changed the minute you were born, i loved you before i even knew you, and i didn't know i could feel that much love for someone so little. hazey-” you said, shuffling her around so she was sitting on your lap, spencer pressed your back against his chest. you looked back at him, kissing his cheek.

“your daddy and i love you so much. it's an honor being your parents. every day i thank the stars that you're our little baby, that we get to raise you and see you grow. thank you for making me your mommy,”

“love you, mommy,” she nestled against your neck, “love you, daddy,” she reached up, puckered lips against spencer's other cheek.

“love you, hazey, you're my wish come true,” spencer placed a kiss on the top of her head.

that night, as you get ready for bed, feeling tired from all the emotions of the day, you snuggle against spencer's side.

“thank you for today. for helping haze,”

“of course, sweet, i told you, you deserve the world,” his lips meet yours in a gentle, slow kiss.

“i already have my whole world with me,” you tell him, voice full of sleep and love. “thank you for giving me my world.”

and if spencer had a time travel machine he would tell his younger self to not lose hope. the best years of his life were yet to come, his world wouldn't end when members of his chosen family left the team, his whole world and family were on the way.

[aquaticmercy]

Of Black Ink and White Lilies

Summary : Bucky wants to get a tattoo, so he asks you for advice.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) (written with tattooed!reader in mind.)

Warnings/tags : fluff. Tattoos. Angst if you really squint.

Requested by : myself!

Word count : 1.6k

Note : Not many of you on here know this, but I’m quite heavily tattooed! I have a sleeve and the top half of my chest is filled. My legs are quite full, too. My irl boyfriend also has tattoos, but he has significantly less than me, so he often asks me for advice on what to get next. This fic is inspired by him because he gives me Bucky vibes lol. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

Bucky Barnes had been through so much in his lifetime. Since witnessing the horrors of World War II, the brutality of mind control, and eventually finding his freedom in the 21st century, he was bound to have changed, grown, and healed more times than he would ever care to admit. For a while, he was convinced that he overstayed his welcome. Until he met you. 

When he met you, he felt more alive than he ever did. You gave him something he had not found in the modern world: meaning.

Which is why— for the past few weeks at least— he’d been glancing at your tattoos with more interest, more intent, than he usually did. He loved your tattoos, he always had. 

It was fascinating how you viewed your skin as a canvas of colors and lines. Every drop of ink that lived into your skin seemed to tell a part of your life, and he admired how you wore them proudly, loudly on display for the world to see. From the intricate patterns that wound up your beautiful body, to the shapes that danced along skin, every piece was personal, intimate, and a wonderful confirmation of the life you had lived.

And Bucky is now realising that he also wanted part of him immortalised in ink. 

One problem: he didn’t know where to start. Until very recently, he never considered getting a tattoo. Hell, back when he was young, tattoos were something most people didn’t have, and he was sure Steve would probably give him a raised eyebrow if he got it in the 40s. It was a taboo— only sailors and bikers, the ultra-macho type had them. 

It was something he had to unlearn while adapting to modern life. You definitely sped up the process for him. Seeing ink on such a lovely human being — who he thought was extremely easy on the eyes — made him think twice about his old-fashioned views on ink. 

Every time he glanced at you, sprawled out on the couch reading your latest favourite novel or cooking pancakes for breakfast in one of his oversized shirts with all your body art on display, he felt the urge—heard the little voice in his head that said maybe it was time he etched something permanent onto his own skin.

That evening, you did what you always do on a lazy day— you were both curled up on the couch, tangled in each others’ presence. You were just admiring your boyfriend’s features when you noticed his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, particularly focused on the ink winding up body. You were used to him admiring your tattoos. He often traced his fingers absentmindedly over them, but this felt a bit different.

"You're staring again, Barnes," you teased as you nudged him gently. He blinked, your words pulling from his deep thoughts. He gave you an almost shy smile.

"Sorry, doll," he said, his fingers tracing a line of ink. "M’ just thinking."

"About?" You asked, tilting your head inquisitively. 

He hesitated for a moment longer than he had meant to. When he finally spoke, his voice came out a little softer than usual. "Bout’ getting a tattoo,” he answered.

You raised your eyebrows, unable to hide your pleasant surprise. Bucky had never mentioned wanting a tattoo before. You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned closer. "Really?”

"Really,” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. His metal hand rested on your knee, rubbing your skin. “I mean… I think so. I’m not sure what to get."

You had to admit, the thought of him even thinking of getting one made your heartbeat a little quick. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. Until now you weren’t sure that day would ever come. 

“Get something that means a lot to you,” your voice adorably squeaky with excitement. “Something personal."

“There’s a lot that means something to me,” Bucky considered it, “but I don’t know what would be right. You have all these beautiful pieces, and they seem to fit you perfectly. I don’t know what would do that for me.”

"It will fit if it feels right to you.” You placed your hand over his and squeezed gently, “I’m sure if you think about it, something’ll stand out."

Bucky was quiet for a moment, like he was deep in thought. You didn’t press him; this was something he had to decide for himself, and any form of pressure wouldn’t help. After all, you wanted it to mean as much to him as yours meant to you.

"You think I should go for something small to start?" His voice was thoughtful as bright blue eyes lifted up to meet yours.

"That’s up to you.” You said, putting your hand on his, “But that might be a good idea. You can always get bigger ones later."

"One step at a time, doll." Bucky found himself chuckling at the thought of getting more than one tattoo. 

You smiled. "Whatever you choose, I know it’ll be perfect." You leaned in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

—

A week passed since that conversation, and Bucky hadn’t said a word about the tattoo. You figured he either wasn’t ready yet or maybe still hadn’t made up his mind. 

It wasn’t until one evening, on a particularly rainy day, that the topic even came up again.

You came home that day, finding him waiting patiently in the living room. He had a small, shy smile on his handsome face.

"Hey, sweetheart," you greeted, placing your bag onto an armchair.

Bucky stood there almost awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. He was shifting his weight slightly like a high schooler that was about to ask his high school crush to prom. 

He was brimming with anticipation, or nerves? 

“I did something," he said, his voice a little smaller than usual. He was so cute when he was nervous.

"And what might that be?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Not answering, he instead reached down and lifted the hem of his t-shirt. He revealed a newly inked tattoo on his left side, just above his ribs. Your breath hitched as you saw in the delicate black and gray flowers that now decorated his battle-hardened skin.

Lilies.

The same flowers he had brought you on your very first date. 

Your heart fluttered as wildly as a baby bluebird taking flight for the first time. Your mind flooded back with memories of that day. It had been a wonderful date, simple and extravagant at all. He took you to dinner and a quiet walk along the waterfront, where you ended up talking for hours.

That day, Bucky had shown up with a bouquet of white lilies, their sweet smell filling the air as you had greeted him, and it filled your apartment for the entire week, making you think of him every time you’re home. The scent had made you think of Bucky so much that he had given you a lily-scented perfume for your first anniversary— and you knew it wasn’t cheap to get.

On that first date, the flowers were such a small gesture, but one that had stayed with you all this time. 

"Bucky…" you breathed out a sigh. Your hand reached out instinctively to touch the tattoo, but you stopped yourself, knowing it was still fresh. 

He read your emotions like an open book as his lips tugged into a small smile. "I remembered how much you liked them. How happy you looked when I brought them to you that night.” He put a hand on your waist. “I wanted something that reminded me of you. Of us."

Your eyes misted over, swelling with joy as you studied the delicate design. 

The art was perfect— elegant, simple, yet brimming with memories. You could see the care that had gone into choosing the design. The thought he had behind it. 

Bucky wasn’t the type to do things lightly and this tattoo was a perfect example of that.

“I can’t believe you chose this." You said, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s smile softened, gazing at you with an admiration you recognized. He gently pulled you into his arms, careful not to press his side against you. "You told me to get something that mattered the most to me.”

You couldn’t help the tears that slipped from your eyes, caressing his cheek gently. You were overwhelmed by how sweet a man that had so much wrong done to him can be. "I love it. I love you."

"I love you too," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You pulled back slightly, wiping your eyes. "How was it?"

Bucky chuckled, “Kinda stings, but worth it."

It seemed silly to you, that a man who was so used to pain even thought of the ache of getting a tattoo, but then you realized this is possibly the first time he was willingly inflicting pain on himself, and it was to commemorate your relationship.

You stifled a sob at the realisation. "Careful babe,” You shook your head. “Next thing you know you’ll be getting full sleeves."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful sparkle in his eyes. "You wish."

You pressed your lips to his, your heart full of fluttering content.

Bucky smiled against your lips. He may have been the Winter Soldier once, but now, he was simply Bucky— a man in love, with lilies inked into his skin to prove it.

“And maybe,” Bucky whispered quietly, already considering his next tattoo. “If you’re lucky.”

-end

[lacroixqueen]

i look in people's windows (18+, noncon) stalker deadpool x office worker reader

Summary: deadpool starts stalking reader after seeing her in a coffee shop. breaks into her apartment and does typical depraved wade shit

Pairing: stalker!deadpool x office worker reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: stalking, trespassing, noncon, dubcon

He didn’t realize he was so fascinated with you initially. At first glance, you looked like any other plain Jane office worker in the city: rushing to the front of the cafe to grab a tray of half-cold coffees before bolting out the door. 

Why is she in such a hurry, he mused to himself, watching you scurry down the block, the corner of your white blouse poking out of your gray pencil skirt. Acting like she’s saving the world or about to perform brain surgery or something. Another Marvel Jesus wannabe. What makes her think she’s so important anyway?

He went back to sipping his bitter espresso, returning to his original state of solitude, until he couldn’t shake you out of his head. Fuck it. Something urged him to get out of his seat, leave the coffee store, and follow you out.

He trailed behind you by about a block or so. He took note of your black tights, and how your skirt ended at the mid-level of your thighs. And that stupid click-clack sound of your heels against the cobblestone. So self-righteous.

He eventually followed you into a skyscraper building. He watched you weave through the crowd, past the front desk, and into a back elevator. Wade quickened his pace to be able to catch you just in the nick of time. 

He darted into the elevator right before the doors were about to close. 

“Floor?” you asked politely, looking up at him with those god awful innocent eyes that made him want to bend you over the nearest desk and fuck you senseless. 

“I’m so glad you asked!” he piped, ever so chipper. “I’ll be.. Uh. Floor. 85.”

“Oh, this building only has 60 floors!” you said. “Which department are you going to? Oooh, love the costume by the way. Maybe you’re headed to the photo studio? That’s going to be on 54. You take a left, then a right, and.. it should be straight there!”

And so polite too. God, could she be anymore insufferable, Deadpool thought to himself, tilting his head to the side as if to psychoanalyze your disposition. 

“Does.. that sound right?” you asked, a bit nervous now that the stranger dressed in all black and red sharing the enclosed space with you was no longer speaking. 

“Yes,” he replied, a little bit too quickly for comfort.

You pushed the corresponding button without another word, and then retreated back to your corner of the elevator. A few seconds of silence passed when your phone suddenly started beeping out of control. 

“Hello?” you asked nervously. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m coming right away. Yes? Uh huh. Mhm. Okay. Got it. Thank you. Bye.” You ended the call with a subtle click and slipped the phone back into your pocket. 

So she’s eager to please. A perfectionist. Interesting, he thought, jotting down a mental note. 

The elevator reached an upcoming floor with a crisp ‘ding’, followed by the doors gliding open.

“Have a great day!” you called over your shoulder as you stepped out, about to walk expeditiously to your cubicle, balancing the tray of coffees in your shaky grip. “Oh, and you should take one of these, they are still hot!”

You handed him one of the skinny vanilla lattes in the tray before the elevator doors closed between you. 

Wade took it without a thought. And he didn’t hesitate to follow you, of course. Ducking behind office plants and hallway walls just to see where you were going without drawing too much attention. He was quick enough to catch a glimpse of your full name on your cubicle placard. 

Bullseye, he thought mischievously to himself, before slinking away into the nearest stairwell. 

He somehow directed himself to the records department in the basement, carefully rifling through the employee directory to match your name with any corresponding information. 

“Y/N..” he muttered to himself, leafing through the enormous book in the back of the storage room. “Goddamnit. Where the hell are you.. Aha! Full government name, phone number, and mailing address. Who even needs those shady paywalled identity finder websites anyways.”

Later that evening, he made it a point to break into your apartment before you came home. He was methodical, ensuring to cover all his steps, so that no trace was left behind. The lock to your doorknob was easy enough to pick. It look several bent-out-of-shape paper clips of course, and a lot of perseverance, but he somehow cracked the code. 

He liked the way you decorated your space. Those cute little succulents in clay pots with smiley faces on them. Colorful candles and warm-toned tarps. Trinkets and crystals adorning cherry wooden shelves. Overgrown plants strewn across the floor. And books. Heaps of them. 

“Well I’ll be,” he huffed to himself, standing in the center of the living room, hands on his hips. “I never took you to be an interior designer. Chip and Joanna would have a run for their money if they ever got a load of this..”

He played with the string of beads you hung from the ceiling, until the wooden dresser you had pushed into the corner caught his attention. 

“Ohohohoho, now what do we have here..” he chuckled, prancing around your furniture to open up the first drawer. He was immediately greeted by your collection of underwear, folded neatly and sorted in a way he pictured an office worker would. He flickered his fingertips over the tops of them, as if he was a kid in a candy store picking out his favorite treat. 

“So organized and efficient!” he commented, rifling through the perfectly placed rows and columns with curiosity. “It’s like the love child of OCD and a very high grade personality disorder.. color me impressed.”

“Eenie, meenie, minie, you!” he exclaimed with glee, eyeing a pair of stretchy, black tights and lifting it out as if he was plucking a rose from a vine.  

Just like the ones she wore this morning, he mused.

His fingers glided across the fabric, gently rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He stretched it out as much as he could, pulling it, teasing it, pretending as if it was on you. 

He decided to get comfortable on your couch, playing with your tights in between his gloved fingertips. 

“Well, out of all the things I’ve done to be put on a government watchlist, this one definitely takes the cake,” he murmured to himself as he lazily lifted up his mask, licking the stretched out nylon with his greedy tongue. He sucked on it desperately, as if he could somehow taste you on the fabric, his saliva dripping down the side of his chin. 

His fingers twirled around the black bows on the sides, pulling so hard one of them came undone. Without wasting another moment, he unbuckled his belt and slightly zipped down his fly, releasing his already hardened cock. Slipping the dainty cloth over it, he began to indulge himself in a way that he never predicted he would this morning. 

He tilted his head back into the soft cushion of the sofa, stroking himself with your elastic tights between his fingertips, imagining you were bouncing on top of him with them on. 

“Fuck, Y/N..” he breathed, gritting his teeth as he continued to pleasure himself. “Why did you have to wear something so slutty at 7 in the morning? I mean what kind of a sociopath does such a thing? You’d think people would have common courtesy these days, but I guess not.”

He groaned softly as he came into your tights, his cum infiltrating through the thin fabric, leaving them absolutely soaked. Breathing heavily, he got up to toss the tainted pantyhose into the trash. 

Finding a scrap piece of paper and pen, he decided to leave you a little note of gratitude on your kitchen table before he left your apartment, scribbling a messy sketch of his mask making a blushing face and a lop-sided heart: 

“Thanks for the coffee!”

[in1-nutshell]

Can we give TFP Airachnid an opposite personality son? We’ve played with opposite personality daughters a lot and a son would be real refreshing. Like I’m thinking of a similiar fluttershy personality for this little one, who just loves all kinds of organisms and animals and wanted to explore and observe every life on every planet possible. Who was also always scared scrapless and sad whenever he walked passed his mother’s hallway of trophies.

And just for cuteness, could he be adopted by Arcee later?

(It would also be sweet if he can have a frog theme, contrast to Airachnid’s spider theme (cause real life tarantulas sometimes keep tiny frogs around), and in this case it’ll be sweet if he is named Ranidae, cause that’s the scientific name for frogs just like how Airachnid is the scientific name for spiders)

I will be adding the name to the list!

Hope you enjoy!

Arachnid with a son with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Arachnid never thought about getting ‘attached’ to anyone before.

She lived by a code.

To live for herself, by any means necessary.

It worked for her so far, the spider wasn’t going to stop now.

Arachnid would never admit it to anyone… but she started getting a bit lonely after defecting the Decepticon’s and wondering around Cybertron’s ruins.

That when she met him.

Arachnid is walking to her newest hideout when she hears rustling. She is immediately on the offense. Arachnid: “Come out or watching me will be the last thing you’ll ever do.” An old crate’s lid opens and a small helm pokes out. Arachnid: “A… sparkling?” She holds the sparkling by his pede looking him over. The sparkling just looks at her with curiosity burning in his optics. Arachnid: “Hmm…small, light…” The sparkling smiles and tries to grab her faceplate but settles on one of her extra limbs. Arachnid: “No.” The sparkling drops the limb. Arachnid: “And obedient? Oh, you’ll be a great addition, Little one.”

Arachnid took in the sparkling a couple days before she would hijack a Decepticon ship and fly out of Cybertron’s orbit.

Having the sparkling on board gave her something to do.

She’d thank him later for being the reason she didn’t go crazy from being stuck in that spaceship for so long.

It wouldn’t take long before she started using the sparkling in her newest hobby.

Hunting endanger species.

The sparkling played the perfect part as the innocent bait.

He didn’t know what was going on at first.

All he knew was that he was helping his mother be happy, something he was willing to do.

His mother didn’t smile too much these days.

As much as he loved his mother, the bot who saved him as a sparkling, he hated her hobby.

They both had a fascination with organic life and curiosity on its works.

Too bad both their definitions of ‘study’ were different.

The smaller bot looks sadly at the newest trophy on his mother’s shelf. Arachnid kneels behind him and places a servo on his shoulder. Arachnid: “Another successful hunt thanks to you, Little one.” She stands up. Arachnid: “Maybe the next planet we go, you can pick which parts I get to keep.” Arachnind walks away. The sparkling lets a tear fall and goes back to his room.

Soon they arrived on a quiet planet called Earth.

It was time for the bot to assume his position, bait.

Maybe this time he could get some more clips of this planet before leaving.

The sparkling ran into the forest as soon as his mother gave him the signal.

The plan was just to go out far enough to get back to the ship if something big came after him.

But thanks to some cute organic creatures, the sparkling ended up going farther than expected.

Maybe staying with them a bit longer wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

The smaller bot happily follows the tiny creatures to a small body of water. He watches them go into the muddy water. Ranidae: “Don’t be afraid! I’m Ranidae, I won’t hurt you.” A one of the creatures hops onto his open servo and croaks. Ranidae: “Hmm… my scans tell me the indigenous life forms call you… a frog.” The frog croaks and blinks at him. Ranidae: “You would be a great alt mode. Powerful legs, small, and no one seems to bother you too much.” He places the frog down. Ranidae: “This won’t hurt a bit.” Ranidae scans the frog and transforms to a frog. He tests out some hops before transforming back. Ranidae scoops up the frog again. Ranidae: “Thank y—” The sounds of an explosion interrupted him. It was in the direction of the ship. Ranidae: “I-I have to go. Goodbye!”

The bot started running as fast as he could.

When he made it over the ridge all he could see was the charred remains of the ship… and a limb that belonged to his mother.

Ranidae fell to his knees at the sight, not really knowing what to do or feel.

He didn’t stay there too long though.

Ranidae hears steps behind him. They were small, but too heavy to be his little friend. He turns and sees a human. Ranidae jumps a bit at the sight. Jack also jumps seeing a smaller bot near the ex-ship. Ranidae: “H-hello there.” Jack: “Umm, hi?” Ranidae: “You spoke back! You aren’t mute like my other friend!” Arcee comes walking over the rigde. Arcee: “Jack, who are you talking to?” She sees the smaller bot and instinctively takes out her blasters. Ranidae immediately backs up to a nearby tree, shaking like its leaf’s. Jack: “Woah, woah! Arcee calm down. I don’t think he’s evil.” Arcee looks carefully at the bot before realizing how young the bot look. She put away her blasters and kneeled in front of the shaking bot. Arcee: “You got a name?” He nods a bit. Ranidae: “Ranidae… your Arcee, aren’t you?” Arcee: “Yeah?” The younger bot starts shaking even more. Arcee is unsure what to think of this. Arcee: “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you Ranidae.” The bot doesn’t stop shaking as quite little sniffles are heard. Jack slowly walks to the bot. Jack: “He’s like a little kid.” Arcee: “That’s because he is one, by Cybertronian standards.” Jack slowly places a hand on the bots pede. The smaller bot jumps a bit but relaxes seeing it was the human who touched him. Jack: “I’m Jack.” Ranidae: “…Jack?” Jack: “Yeah. Look, Arcee isn’t going to hurt you, none of us are.” The younger bot relaxes a bit but look warily at Arcee. Jack: “Do you have any parents?” Ranidae quickly glances at the limb. Ranidae: “Not anymore.” Arcee notices the lack of badge on the bot. Arcee: “what side are you on?” Ranidae looks at her confused. Ranidae: “I don’t have one.” Arcee looks around before sighing. Arcee: “Ratchet’s not going to like this… come one kid, you’re with us now.”

It was a big surprise to see Arcee and Jack to come back with another young bot hot on their heels.

Ranidae stayed glued to Jack’s side the entire time, even grabbing his smaller hand and putting it in his servo when he got nervous around the bigger bots.

Miko and Raf soon came over to greet the smaller bot.

Miko: “Dude! You’re smaller than Arcee!” Ranidae flinches away a bit at the loud sound. Jack: “Miko, inside voice. Ranidae this is Miko and Raf. Raf Miko, this is Ranidae.” Raf: “Like frog?” The young bot immediately perked up hearing the word. Ranidae: “I like frogs. Are there any frogs here?” Raf: “Not here but I have pictures.” Ranidae’s smile widens seeing the little photos. Miko: “You really like frogs, don’t you?” Ranidae nods before transforming into his alt mode. Everyone looks surprised. Miko: “You really like frogs.”

The kids and bots nearly had whiplash once Ratchet found out how old Ranidae was.

In human years, he was a bit younger than Raf.

Bumblebee is quietly celebrating not being the youngest on the team.

Ranidae decided to stay with the Autobots.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere, or anyone would miss him.

As far as he knew, his mother was offline.

Better to start a new life with someone who didn’t want to hunt for fun.

It does not take long for all the bots to grow a soft spot of the youngest member of the team.

Arcee, arguably has the biggest spot for him.

Sure, the small frog was extremely hesitant to be around her or the team, but it changed after Fowler was introduced to him.

Fowler looks at the small bot slightly hiding behind Arcee’s legs. Fowler: “And you are?” Ranidae is pushed up front a bit. Ranidae: “Ranidae…” Fowler: “And?” Ranidae: “And?” Fowler: “What do you do?” Arcee: “He doesn’t have a position yet.” Fowler: “What do you mean he doesn’t have a position yet? Sure, he’s small but he has to do something. What did he do back on your planet?” Bulkhead: “Fowler, Rani just a kid.” Fowler: “Isn’t Bumblebee your youngest?” Arcee starts getting a bit frustrated. Arcee: “Ranidae is younger than Bumblebee. In human years, he’s around Raf’s age.” Fowler: “… And his parents? Or is everyone taking care of him.” Arcee: “I am.” Bulkhead: “You are?” Ranidae: “You are!”

Arcee had said that out of frustration after seeing the smaller bot start shrinking in Fowler’s gaze.

But she doesn’t regret saying it.

From staying out of Arcee’s sight to practically clinging on her back.

This does not exclude alt mode, especially after Ranidae found out that he could stick to certain objects, including bots.

Does the smaller bot get on her nerves from time to time?

Yes, but give her a break.

She never thought she’d be a parent, especially at war.

Arcee is quite protective of her little frog, and it is no secret to the others.

Arcee finishes brigding out Bulkhead and Bumblebee. Arcee: “Rani, I need you to help me out here.” Jack: “Rani isn’t here.” Arcee: “What?” Raf coming into the room. Raf: “Has anyone seen Miko?” Arcee: “… Raf do you know anything about ‘everglades?” Raf: “It’s a huge ecosystem filled with all sorts of animals, reptiles and…” Arcee, Jack, and Raf: “Frogs!” Meanwhile… Ranidae carefully carrying Miko through the marsh. Ranidae: “Are you sure there’s frogs here?” Miko: “Sure, sure, but we have to keep up with Bulk and Bee.” Ranidae: “Okay!”

[flippinpancakes64]

The Cullens with a reader who is afraid of needles but has tattoos and piercings?

The Cullens with a Reader who has tattoos and piercings but is afraid of Needles

Again, you guys manage to clock me perfectly. It’s kinda freaky. I just got a new tattoo the other day but I’m still putting off getting some of my vaccines because I’m scared of them.

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He thinks you’re funny

He so fascinated by how your mind works

He went with you once while you got a new tattoo

He was supposed to be there to hold your hand

But you didn’t need it

You just sat there peacefully making small-talk

But then

Carlisle called you into the clinic because you were overdue for a vaccine

Edward thought you were gonna take his hand clean off

He’s tried to talk to you a couple times about how they’re not so different

But you don’t wanna hear it

So he just settles with being there to comfort you every time you need a shot ❤️

Alice:

She finds it hilarious

Definitely tells you that you’re overreacting

But she will still comfort you

She loves your tattoos and piercings so much

But she just cannot wrap her mind around why you seem to be petrified of other needles

Oh well

She teases you for it all the time

But that doesn’t stop her from going with you and holding your hand and telling you how brave you’re being

She still tries to convey how weird you’re being

And how they’re not that different

But even she can see that that won’t work

So she just lets you be you

Jasper:

He may be a vampire

But honestly he gets it

No one particularly enjoys the feeling of something punching into your skin

But it’s easier to cope when you know that you’re getting something cool out of it

Aka a piercing or a tattoo

He understands

So he goes with you whenever you have to get a shot and he uses his ability to calm you down

It makes it easier for everyone

He also may or may not have taken to just asking Carlisle to give you your vaccines when you’re asleep

He can use his ability to keep you asleep

Bada bing bada boom problem solved

Rosalie:

She understands a little bit

But also not really

She remembers getting her ears pierced when she was alive and she absolutely hated it

So she hates needles too

She understands you there

But she doesn’t understand your love for tattoos and piercings

Like obviously she loves her ear piercings and sort of wishes she’d gotten second lobe ones

But the pain is way too much for her

Also she is very reluctant to go with you

She can stomach a lot

But something about needles is a no for her

Don’t get me wrong she will hold your hand and let you squeeze

But her head will be turned the other way

Emmett:

He thinks you’re hilarious

He teases you for it all the time

Likely won’t let up even if you tell him to stop

He just thinks it’s the funniest shit

That doesn’t mean he won’t go with you to be your emotional support and personal stress ball

It just means that he’ll bully you relentlessly afterwards

He doesn’t actually mean any malice behind it

He’s just a jokester at heart

And if you really, really tell him you don’t like when he teases you about it

He might let up every once in a while

Esme:

If she was human, she would honestly be the opposite

In her human life, she could take a vaccine needle like a champ

But even the thought of a tattoo or piercing makes her queasy

She does her best to reassure you of that

Trying to convince you that needles aren’t that bad

But you’re hard to get through to

So she just settles for being there for you

She goes with you every time you need to get a shot

But she stays home from the piercers or the tattoo parlor

Best scenario

Carlisle:

He has a bit of a different approach to this

He knows many people who are afraid of needles

He’s a doctor, it’s bound to happen

Thinks that exposure therapy is the best

He takes you to the clinic with him all the time

Has you sit in on a couple of his patients

And watch them get vaccines

Maybe it works maybe it doesn’t

Can’t say he didn’t try

But he never judges you for your fear

It’s real, it’s valid, and he will never make fun of you for it

Vampire! Bella:

Honestly

She understands

I have a feeling she was really in to getting piercings at some point

But I also have a feeling she never took good enough care of the piercings for them to stick around

So when she was human she had a bunch of scarred holes on her ears

But she gets it

She hated needles

But she loved piercings

Honestly wishes she could get some now

But either way, she doesn’t judge

She understands completely

Supportive queen

[denwritesandcries]

One rock a day keeps the Wilderness away – L.M

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected to happen after a plane crash was for your girlfriend to end up becoming some kind of cult leader fascinated by amulets made of the weirdest and shiny things like a damn owl, yet here you are.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: 96/wilderness timeline, cursing, pet names, fluff and corny, comfort, skeptic!reader, lottie and reader are secretly little haters.

Note: I guess you could say that I simply love writing fluff and cuddles.

English is not my first language.

If there was one thing everyone at Wiskayok High School was aware of, it was that Lottie Matthews was rich as fuck.

She always wore the most expensive clothes, there was a driver who picked her up at the door and took her everywhere, her house was simply giant and some dare to say that a butler was the one who met them at the door and served them drinks on the nights she had her parties.

The thing is, Lottie was a bit... weird, for a rich girl, which meant that she wasn't as popular at school as she could’ve been. She didn't exactly fit the bad girl role, but she wasn't quite a preppy either, with her extravagant bows and tiaras being the most luxurious thing she would actively display. She was distant at best.

This made you, at the beginning of your relationship, try to spoil her in every way possible, not being able to believe that this sweet and out of reach person could reciprocate your feelings so genuinely when she could have just anyone, so, in addition to showering her with affection, you also showered her with gifts. Accessories, especially. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, until you understand that jewelry really wasn't her thing, since despite accepting everything with affection, she simply left them stored insisting that you didn't spend your money on it. Lottie was much more appreciative of the little things you gave and did for her.

Now, the last thing you expected was for her to develop a taste for accessories in the damn wilderness of all places.

“Baby, I’m not wearing a necklace with a damn bone hanging from it to go hunting.”

It turns out that, like almost everything involving Lottie, her way of demonstrating her new preferences – maybe hobbies? – was also not very usual and you hadn't exactly taken anything of the royal jewelry type for a trip that was supposed to be quick.

“But I chose and made it for you! Will keep you safe out there, I feel it.”

Oh, yeah. There was also the fact that your girlfriend was perhaps slowly going a little mad and becoming the leader of a religious cult that your teammates were a part of and that she wanted you to participate too.

“Jesus Christ, Lot.”

You didn't want to encourage her. The worry was eating you alive and it's only gotten worse since she confided in you that she finally ran out of her meds.

You, unlike your other teammates, were aware that the things Lottie said or did lately were much more influenced by her own condition than any other truly supernatural factor – as much as you couldn't deny that the cabin and the forest gave you goosebumps –, which made you really stressed and irritable with all your friends as they started to believe in things that didn't exist and put pressure on your girlfriend for answers as if she were some kind of prophet.

You managed to keep everything under control and keep her from straying too far from reality to a certain point, but then the whole situation with the group being attacked and Van being seriously injured happened and so nothing you did could convince Lottie that there was nothing what she could have done about it and that only seemed to encourage her more when the redhead recovered enough to confide you all that she should have listened to the feeling Lottie had and that she felt safer with the “amulet” she received from her.

The result is that you are now the target of Lottie's worries and she insists that you wear the charms and trinkets she makes.

It's actually quite cute, you've caught her once or twice sitting by the fire trying to figure out how to tie a knot that won't snap the cord, her eyes glazed over and focused. You could use it, as bizarre as it would be, if it was just a silly gift from your girlfriend, but since that's not what it is, you don't want to put even more things in her head in case something actually happens.

“But then what’s going to protect you when you leave?” Lottie asks, head tilted to the side in alarm and you can only notice how her bangs fall over her eyes in a messy and cute way.

“Maybe the gun I always carry with me?”

However, it was becoming difficult not to encourage her in any way, because aside from bones or occasionally some different plants, Lottie also seemed to see signs in anything that stood out a little, like the bright and colorful rocks you had made a habit of bringing at her, guarding everything that caught her attention like a damn owl.

It started as a silly thing, with a cracked and shiny rock you found near the lake the day you guys found the cabin, you cleaned it and handed it to her with a shy smile, like it was one of your gifts back home, just to cheer her up a little and since then she kept the rock with her at all times – even if sometimes she woke up twitching because she ended up lying against it in the middle of the night. That seemed to turn the key and over the next few days you noticed that she spent time looking for new types nearby the house and so you committed to bringing all the pretty items she might like when you went on your hunts with Natalie, from strange rocks to little crystals lost along the way, just because she looked so happy when you handed them to her.

You think her cute gesture turned into more of a paranoia like 'one rock a day keeps the wilderness away', but at least it makes her more relaxed and happy on days when everything is bad.

One day you return to the cabin with Natalie in tow looking very upset because you've come back empty-handed again and your head is drooping with exhaustion and frustration. When you finally enter Lottie is waiting for you with an appreciative, warm look in her face.

“Did you get anything?” she asks, wrapping her arm around you and guiding you both to your usual corner so you can sit side by side.

You mumble negatively and bury your head in her neck. She rephrases the question when she notices your discouragement:

“Did you get anything for me?”

You sigh, smiling at her, “That I did.”

Lottie watches you curiously as you move to take something out of your pocket and show it to her and you notice the exact moment she registers what’s in your hand.

“A quartz.” She takes it from you like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, “It’s a pink quartz.”

“Is it?” You ask, stifling a yawn with your hand, “I don't know a thing about those stones and stuff, just thought it was pretty and you would like it.”

“Well, I do like it very much. Thank you.” Lottie gives you a soft smooch on the cheek, “And it's not a stone, baby, it's more like a gem or a crystal.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement.

She leans her entire weight against your body and smiles innocently when you complain: “Misty told me the other day that gems like that mean peace and unconditional love.”

“You've been talking to Misty? About rocks and gems?” You look at her in disbelief.

“I feel really lonely without you here with me, you know?” Lottie shrugged.

You felt a little guilty and moved closer, leaving a kiss on her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Lot. I miss you when I'm away too,” you murmur, rubbing her arm in comfort, “Why don't you tell me about your day?”

Lottie rolls her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of the days when you guys would get together to talk shit about everyone you knew in these stupid parties that your heart skips a beat.

“Ugh, if I hear Mari complain about one more damn thing, I’m going to tell you to stop chasing bears and order everyone to serve her for dinner.”

“Please, don’t.” You snort a dumbfounded laugh, “They might actually do it.”

You end up lying down with her curled up and facing you, gently drawing small circles on your hand.

“Got something in your mind?”, you brush some strands of hair from her face affectionately.

“I just have no idea what to do with… them,” she shrugs hesitantly.

You know what she means immediately and move to take her face in your hands, feeling her lean into your touch.

“Oh, Lottie.”

“I know what you and Nat do for us is very important, but I wish you didn't have to,” she mumbles, as if she were confiding a secret, getting impossibly close to you. “I wish you would stay here, with me, where it is safe. Is it too selfish? Want to keep you all to myself?”

You let out a shaky breath, not trusting your own voice when you can feel her breath against your lips like this.

“Well, if Shauna can hide her diary in the attic like a freak then I guess you're allowed to keep some things to yourself too, hun.” You stutter, feeling your skin heat up in embarrassment.

“But you're not a thing.” Lottie wrinkles her nose.

“You can keep me anyway, I don’t mind.” You shrug this time, faking indifference to make her laugh.

And she does, “Babe!”

Just when everything is silent and you think Lottie has slept with your legs wrapped around hers and using your arm as a pillow, she speaks again:

“You know, my new quartz would make a really cute necklace.”

“Lot,” you yawn against her hair.

“Will you use it if I make one?” She looks at you, blinking her big brown eyes in the most convincing way possible, “Just this one, please, for me?”

You sigh, “Yes, Lottie. I'll use your magic stone.”

She deflates, “Don’t talk about it like it’s crack, babe.”

Lottie kisses you slower than usual before you leave as she finally notices the pink gem hanging from your neck and you happily ignore Natalie's mockery as you run after her to catch up to the forest.

[justalittlerandomartist]

Daddy’s Little Monster

•Alastor x teen! daughter! reader

•Platonic, you sickos

•What if… Alastor had a daughter who wanted to be a serial killer too?

You woke up to a red sky. There was a great pain in your head, and your vision was blurry. Once you were fully oriented, you stood up. What was this place? It was like prison, and god, it smelled awful. When you looked up at the pentagram over the sky, it dawned on you. You had died. You were in hell.

It was no surprise why you were in hell. You weren’t the best human. You indulged in a bit of cannibalism, and wanted to be an assassin when you were older. Older. That was something you’ll never be. You were just 13, thirteen and dead. However, how you died was a mystery. You had no memory of how you died.

Could it be you were murdered? No, you hadn’t made many enemies. Maybe fell from somewhere high? No, you were too scared of heights to be anywhere high. Hit by a car? You were always careless crossing the street. Yes, that had to be it.

You looked down at your new form. You had bright blue skin, and dark blue hair(She kinda looks like Ruby Gillman). The hair in your pigtails was now in thick, tentacle, like strands. Your ears were similar to fins, and your limbs were long and stretchy. You were some sort of kraken.

It made sense you were a sea creature though. You had always found yourself fascinated with the sea and the animals that inhabit that. You wished that one day you would be able to dive in there, and never have to return to the surface. You had longed to be down there with the fish and the animals. It felt like home more than the surface ever did.

You felt…at peace in hell, like you wanted to stay here. Sure, it was a little rough around the edges, but it felt like home. But your friends…everyone you left behind. Wouldn’t they miss you? For a moment in time, you wanted to go back. Go back to tell your best friend you loved her one last time. You felt her pain and her tears, and it broke your heart. But you can’t change the past. All you can do is love her and remember.

You decide to walk around your new environment. The buildings look old and run down, and people are fighting. You pass a porn studio, and laugh to yourself. Hell seemed like the kind of place where a giant porn studio would be a normal occurrence. Something catches your eye. A vending machine for drugs. You think about it for a second, but decide not to get anything.

You walk near a place called Cannibal Town, and saw some demons eating a guy. You wanted to join in, the taste of human flesh lingering in your brain, fueling your desires. In front of you was a singing demon, with a resemblance to a porcelain doll. She seemed to improv her whole song, and it amazed you. You loved to sing, and was impressed by her skills. You wanted to tell her, but you would feel bad for interrupting her song.

After exploring hell, you found a street corner to cozy up in. As your first day in hell concluded, you thought to yourself ‘is eternal damnation as bad as I thought?’

______________________________________

•Hi! My names Vicky, I’m a sucker for platonic au’s. My head cannons take a while, but if my requests are open, I might make your idea for a fanfic, so be sure to ask.

•This was fun to write and it is not done. I’m just tired.

•Part 2 •Part 3 •Part 4 •Part 5

[isagrimorie]

This is a really good interview with Jac Schaeffer about episode 7 of Agatha All Along.

Schaeffer orchestrates “Death’s Hand in Mind” to unfold with an emotional clarity that allows LuPone to shine in one of her best ever on-screen performances.

[snip]

What sort of feedback would she be giving?

She has a number of mini-monologues, and as we got closer, I tweaked a few of them. She came to me and was like, “Can we please just do it how it was?” And I was like, “You’re the boss, absolutely.” She’s a theater actor. She respects the page. I was trying to streamline and get us moving, and she was like, “No, I want to say all these things.” And bless her, I’m so glad she said all the things.

There are really two different tracks in the episode: the linear timeline as the other characters are experiencing it, and the emotional timeline as Lily is experiencing it. How did you and Patti navigate that?

Patti asked for a script in correct order so she could understand what she was doing. She really did have a solid handle on it, but she would get lost a little bit. Her focus was, “Where is the big emotion? When do I really unravel?” That’s why she wanted to see the episode strung out linearly, but I was like, “You’re the one bouncing around.” She’s the constant, so whenever she’s feeling the deep emotion of it, that is correct, because she’s being wrenched all over the place. So I think her process was finding when the pulling around really starts to trigger her vulnerability.

[SNIP]

The other thing that was very complicated about this episode was the practical part. Those swords are real, and they’re on piano wire. We had to number them and know the order and decide where they went before any actors set foot on the set. So we had this sword map that was nuts, and Ishi was my sword angel, keeping all that in both our minds. And the actors — they were so lovely — they were willing to let me say, “We cannot explore dancing around the space. I need you here right now, otherwise a sword is going to hit you in the face.”

THEY USED REAL SWORDS. When they said that they used minimal CGI… they were not kidding about it!

[snip]

Lilia, Alice, Mrs. Hart — are they all really dead?

I anticipated this question today, and I’ve been thinking about my answer. What I want to say is that this is a show about death. We actually have the character of Death in our show. I am interested in that conversation, and I am fascinated by how death is used in the comic space and in the MCU. Personally, I feel that when a person dies, you can still talk to them and feel them, and they can still be in your lives. But death is immutable. It is permanent. With this show, we wanted to pay respect to that. So this a more earnest and grave conversation about death than maybe you would find in another superhero project.

I like this actually. I like that in WandaVision the show dealt with grief and trauma. This time it’s dealing with death face to face and having an honest discussion what death is.

I think what it will end up showing is that death… is not evil. Death just is. It is a fact of life.

To paraphrase the Ninth Doctor: Everything has its time and everything ends.

So are the Salem Seven dead?

Yeah, the Salem Seven are dead. They’re off the board in our show, is what I will say. Lilia has saved everybody!

And true to my hypothesis, when Jac is fibbing or not telling the whole truth, she answers as succinctly as possible. Because it is technically true the Salem Seven are dead because the remaining Salem members are now just the Salem Two.

Since only five appeared in the Tower.

Lady Death has been a significant character in the Marvel Comics for a long time. When did you decide to include your version of that character in the show?

Oooh, it’s so fun to be talking about this now. We wanted a pursuant character. We wanted somebody who was going to be after Agatha, and therefore after the coven, because we liked the logic of whatever Agatha’s problem is, once they become a coven, it becomes the problem of the whole group. Very, very early, we had this character we called the Debt Collector. Witchcraft is a lot about intention and exchange and checks and balances. So we had this notion of someone being after them for unpaid debts of witchcraft. I don’t remember when we pivoted to death, but it was just so sexy. We were just like, who is the perfect ex-lover of Agatha Harkness? It was just so obviously Lady Death. It felt so right. 

It’s so interesting what they conceptualized for the ‘pursuant’ character before locking on to Rio/Lady Death. The ‘Debt Collector’, it says a lot about their initial thoughts and rules for Witchcraft which sounded (to me) something similar to Fullmetal Alchemist’s philosophy of ‘Equivalent exchange’.

The intention of checks and balances and unpaid debts of witchcraft.

Also, I still love that the person, the character who brought Lady Death, the cosmic being into the MCU wasn’t Thanos with his trillions of death via snap. It’s not Deadpool.

The character who brought Lady Death into being is Agatha Harkness.

Executive producer Mary Livanos and writer Giovanna Sarquis were instrumental in the character. Giovanna came in with the Dia de los Muertos [look] and having her be Latinx, and Mary was very much an influence on Rio’s darkness and toxicity and how enmeshed Agatha and Rio are. It was something that needed approval from on high. We had to get the sign off from Kevin [Feige]. There was a moment where we were all holding our breath, worried we weren’t going to get it. We were really delighted that we got the OK.

I love this, @mswyrr pointed out that Santa Muerte and Lady Death actually has similarities. And to know now that it’s deliberate? It’s so amazing.

Also, Mary pointing out the darkness and toxicity knowing that Mary Livanos is a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan and quite possibly a Buffy/Faith shipper… The knife scene in the first episode feels more like a deliberate reference now!

This is what happens when fangirls become in charge! Wooo!

You said Rio is a “pursuant character” — is she a villain, or at least an antagonist?

Yes, I would classify her as an antagonist. I would classify everyone in the show as a villain and a hero at one point or another.

[snip]

Again with a carefully short answer. But also the emphasis that she is an antagonist and Jac’s insistence that in the show no one is purely a hero nor a villain. Because people are more complicated than that.

we designed this show to really take off dramatically in the back half. I’ve been really interested to see how that lands with people. I think for the most part, people are on the track that we hope they will be. It’s not about the specifics of characters showing up or cameos or revelations, really. But it sounds to me like what people are emotionally interested in, I hope that we deliver on that. There is more Agatha, there is more Rio, and there is a conclusion to this story, and there is some truth to be shared about Agatha.

I like that— for Jac it’s not the cameos or the revelations, it’s the emotional interest and investment. It’s the unpacking of Agatha as a character, its Agatha and Rio individually and together. This is what Jac and the writer’s room are interested in.

I love that in superhero show, they’re tackling the very heavy subject of death. And I trust this team of writers to bring it home.

[janeyseymour]

Fire in My Heart (Repost due to mistake)

Anon asked for a mel x firefighter!reader, and I posted, but didn't realize I left out the end of it, so... repost!

Summary: There's an incident at Abbott, and you and your crew come to the rescue.

WC: ~3.4k

The two of you always joke about how ridiculous it is that you actually managed to find each other. Growing up, you had almost always had a crush on your teachers- particularly the ones with red hair. And for Melissa, she was absolutely fascinated with anything that had to do with firefighting as a little girl- it felt like it was in her blood to do something that had to do with fighting fire. 

You nudge her. So maybe she wasn’t doing something that had to do with fighting fire... but she was doing someone who fought fires for a living. She teases you right back.

“I’m sorry Ms. ‘I had a crush on all of my female teachers’.”

“Correction: I had a crush on most of my female teachers,” you tell her. Then you playfully shudder. “No one could’ve had a crush on Ms. Adams.”

“Okay, sorry,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she continues to pack your meals for your shift at the station. “I’m sorry Ms. ‘I had a crush on most of my female teachers.”

You shrug. “Eh, it worked in my favor. I got the hottest redheaded second grade teacher t’go out with me,” you grin as you wrap your arms around her waist. 

“Hell yeah it did,” she chuckles as she turns over in your arms to face you. “You got yourself a Philly eleven, and I got myself a Philly twelve. We’re the hottest couple in this city.”

You pat her backside as you realize you have to let her go. “Alright, babe. I’ll be home later tonight. Don’t start any Schemmenti style fires now?”

“I can’t make any promises, an’ you know that,” your girlfriend grumbles. “I swear, if Janine says one more thing about the stupid book fair, I’ll-”

“You’ll call your girlfriend and rant to her instead of bludgeoning the poor woman with a

copy of Peter Rabbit or lighting something on fire,” you tell her seriously. “Jesus, how did I end up dating someone from an arsonist family?”

“And that worked out in my favor,” Melissa wears a smirk on her face. “We Schemmenti’s can start the fires, but no one expects the chief’s family to be the ones starting them.”

“Please tell me that isn’t why you’re dating me,” you roll your eyes as she hands you your lunch bag.

“It’s not,” she promises you before adding on. “But it don’t hurt.”

You chuckle before picking up the rest of your bags. “Don’t start any fires that make my department have to come out to rescue you today.”

“That’s never happened,” Melissa retorts.

“Don’t let today be the first!” you call as you reach for the door. “I’ll see you later tonight, I love you!”

You can’t believe you have to go respond to a call from Abbott Elementary. As you’re driving, you have half a mind to call your girlfriend. She answers on the first ring.

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti, this fire that I’m responding to better not be because of-”

“It wasn’t me,” the second grade teacher tells you. She pulls away from the phone just slightly to scold a student for getting out of line. “Maya, this is a real fire! This is not a drill! Stop doing the Gritty!”

“Is everyone out of the building?” you grit out as you drive just the slightest bit faster.

The teacher looks around at all of the teachers holding up green pieces of paper. “Yes. And when you get here, don’t even bother looking for-” your phone clicks off. You assume a coworker of hers had come up to her, and no one knew that the two of you were dating.

As you pull up to the building, it’s clear that whatever set the alarm off isn’t too big of a deal. Still, you and your crew go in to survey the area. You know Melissa’s room number, and you immediately head in that direction, barking out orders to your coworkers as you go.

Melissa’s room looks perfect. It’s so... her. It’s filled with various signed sports gear and merchandise, but it also is flooded with pictures and drawings from the kids, and you can clearly see the bulletin board that displays different school projects they’ve completed. You nearly swoon.

You do a quick lap as you continue to make sure she didn’t somehow secretly start this fire. You stop at her desk when you see just the smallest corner of something sticking out from underneath her mousepad. You have to make sure it’s not any sort of evidence, so you lift her mousepad. Underneath, there’s a picture of the two of you. You do swoon at this. Even though neither of you are out, she still has a reminder of the two of you with her at all times.

“Oh, Mel,” you whisper, a smile appearing on your face. You quickly pull yourself together and continue on. You don’t see anything else that would make anybody suspicious of the Italian teacher, so you continue to the next rooms.

Janine’s room is quite the opposite of Melissa’s. You can’t explain why because she too has some memorabilia from sporting events in Philly, but-

“Hey, Y/N,” one of your men comes down the hall holding up a burnt shawl and a candle. “It looks like we found the culprit of this mess. Just a small little thing really in the teacher’s lounge.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You were fairly certain your girlfriend hadn’t caused the fire... but now it was confirmed that you wouldn’t have to be bailing her out of jail today.

With a nod, you exit the building and tell everybody it’s safe to go back inside. Melissa is all grins when she sees you, but you remain professional. And she’s able to play it off that she’s beyond excited that they brought a tractor drawn aerial. 

She makes her way over to you. “Can I bring the kids out to look at the-”

You roll your eyes and nod. “But I can only stall for so long before the boys will start to catch on.”

Your girlfriend practically sprints away, giggling with glee, as she goes inside to retrieve her kiddos. 

When she brings out her students, you have to pretend like you’re annoyed that she’s wasting your time. 

“Ma’am,” you say. “We really do have to get-”

“Ain’t you the one who’s doin’ the fire safety meeting for the teachers later today anyway?” she challenges you, fully knowing you are.

You sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you can stick around.” You don’t miss the wink and the licking of her lips. She finds you irresistible in your uniform.

While the kids are at lunch and recess, you have to hold the fire safety meeting. And Melissa is as brash as ever. You unfortunately have to ban open fires, and this sets off Barbara.

As Melissa runs out of the room, she gives you a look that asks for silent forgiveness, and you nod. You know she has to go check up on her best friend, and you need to continue your meeting.

After Barbara admits that she’s been dealing with Gerald’s health scare and the candle was 100% an accident, Melissa feels terrible. But she knows how she might be able to turn Barb’s mood around.

“I think I might have a roundabout way of getting you to be able to keep lighting your candles,” the redhead smirks.

“What do you- you heard the chief: no more open flames.”

“I can call in a favor,” Melissa nudges her. “I’m sure the chief can do something special for her girlfriend.”

The kindergarten teacher’s eyes go wide. “For her- her girl- Melissa Ann Schemmenti, how long have you kept this from me?!”

“I wasn’t keepin’ nothin’ from you,” your girlfriend laughs. “Ya never asked, so I never had to tell.”

“Oh, girl,” Barb howls. “You have some nerve, not telling me. I’m gonna need more details.”

“Maybe later,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “None of youse know, and none of her department knows we’ve been dating for the last three years and living together for the last year and a half.”

The kindergarten teacher looks at her best friend incredulously. “I’ve been to your house!”

“She’s always on shift, and we don’t have many printed pictures together; just digital copies,” the redhead shrugs. “Now c’mon. I have to convince my girlfriend to let my best friend continue to have candles. And then I gotta get my kids back outside to play on the truck.”

“Haven’t they been playing on the truck all day?”

“No,” she admits with a laugh. “That was my time. Now it’s theirs while I flirt with my girlfriend.”

“Miss fire chief?” Melissa asks all too innocently as the kids explore and play on your truck.

“Yes ma’am?” you reply, committed to your work persona of badass fire chief.

She glances around. Your coworkers are distracted with the kids, so she pulls herself slightly closer to you. “You think I can call in a favor?”

“And that would be?”

“Let Barb light her candles in exchange for her not killing me for not telling her about you?” Melissa asks hopefully. 

You hazard a glance at her. “Melissa.”

“I also need your help putting out my fire,” she says coyly as she daringly grabs your thigh. “Seeing you in uniform is... wow, babe.” She knows you’ll say yes now.

“Fine,” you groan. “But if this happens again, it’s on you. You hear me?”

“Yes, chief,” the teacher grins and mock salutes you. She stands next to you for a few more minutes before she has to call her kids back into the building for dismissal.

“Alright my little eagles, everybody say thank you to the firefighters!” Melissa grins. Her students do as she asks before they all head back in. She mouths a ‘thank you, love you’ to you while everyone else is preoccupied.

As you and your coworkers are heading back to the station, you hear one of them mention that ‘that redheaded teacher was a smokeshow’. You grip the wheel just a bit tighter. You almost say something right there, but you let them go. They’re right. Your girlfriend is a smokeshow, and she sure as hell knows it. They only continue making comments about her though, and suddenly you aren’t so happy.

One of the boys starts making rather vulgar comments, and-

“Oi,” you call from the front. “Will y’quit havin’ fantasies about my girlfriend?”

All of their eyes snap to you. “W-what, chief?”

“Stop thinking about my girlfriend like that,” you tell them again. “Or we’s gonna have a bigger problem than some little candle fire.”

“She’s your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she is,” you huff. “Melissa. She’s a Schemmenti, and she’s mine. So any thoughts you have or had about her, clear your brains out, or I’ll have your asses. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all mutter, heads down. Some of their cheeks are red.

“Wait a minute,” one of the younger firemen catches on. “Is she the one who made the ziti you brought to our Christmas party last year?” You nod. “Do you think she could make it again? That shit was off the charts. But, uh... only if she’s got time. Don’t wanna pressure her.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you laugh. “She’s been pretty busy lately, teaching two grades. But maybe I can convince her to bring a couple trays of food down for all youse.”

Unbeknownst to you, Melissa finds herself in the same situation as you while everyone is gathering their things to leave.

“That woman was... wow,” a few of the other teachers say, and Melissa hears. She takes a deep breath. They’re allowed to say you’re pretty- they don’t know you two are dating. They start to take it to the next degree, and the redhead’s face is almost as red as her hair. Still, she tries not to overreact. She promised you she wouldn’t be the reason Abbott burnt to the ground. And then one of the fifth grade teachers says something so filthy about you that-

“Barb! Lemme go!” Melissa tries to fight her way out of her best friend’s arms, and Gregory and Ava are also quick to hold your girlfriend back. “He’s gotta know he doesn’t got any reason to talk about a woman like that! Much less, my woman!”

She doesn’t even realize what she’s said- she has no idea that she’s admitted to dating you. But everyone else heard her. They all freeze, all except Barb. Barb continues to try to hold Melissa back.

“Woah!” the fifth grade teacher surrenders. He puts his hands up, terrified of the redhead right now. “She’s your girlfriend?”

“She is, and you don’t get to think about her that way, much less speak about her like that,” Melissa grits out. “You even think about her again, and I swear to God, my foot will be so far up your-”

“Melissa!” the kindergarten teacher scolds.

She fixes her shirt as she huffs and pulls away. She storms out of the room, only to be followed by her usual crew.

“So... you’re dating the firechief?” Gregory asks as they exit the building. At Melissa’s nod, he says quietly, “That’s pretty cool. No wonder you know so much about the trucks.”

“Nah, I knew all that before I met Y/N. She just happened to be a firefighter when we met. Been promoted since, obviously.”

“That’s really nice, Melissa!” Janine grins. “So, when do we get to meet her?”

“Y’already met her,” the second grade teacher rolls her eyes and starts to head for her car.

“No, but like... really meet her?”

“We’re busy that day,” Melissa tells Janine. 

“I- I didn’t even give you a day,” the younger teacher looks hurt. 

“Regardless,” the redhead sighs. “She’s pretty busy. I’ll talk to her tonight when she gets home and see what we can-”

“You two live together?!” Jacob exclaims. 

“Have been,” your girlfriend snorts. “It ain’t news.”

“This is news to us though, Melissa!” Barbara chides her friend. “Even I didn’t know about Y/N! You pulled a Jacob on us!”

“Like I told you before, Barb, youse never asked. I’ll talk to her tonight and see if there’s a day we can have you all over, okay? Ya happy?”

“Delighted,” the kindergarten teacher smiles. “Alright, I have to get home to Gerald, but I will see all of you tomorrow.”

The rest of your day is rather uneventful, and the end of your shift couldn’t come soon enough. You know Melissa was all worked up seeing you in your uniform and having to be a hardass- something entirely different from what she sees at home. 

“Alright boys, I’m heading out for the day,” you tell your subordinates. “Don’t do anything where I would need to be called back in.”

As you’re just about to close the door, one of the men calls your name out. “Don’t forget to ask your woman if she’ll make us her ziti.”

When you walk into your house, Melissa is curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. Her glasses are on the tip of her nose as she grades some of their writing.

“Hey, babe,” you smile as you make your way over, leaning down to kiss her. She tastes like wine, and it makes your head spin.

“Hey, yourself,” she says as her attention is back on her papers. Although she has changed her position so you can sit with her. “Your food is in the microwave, and your glass of wine is in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” you grin tiredly as you head to grab your food and drink. By the time you settle on the couch with Melissa, she’s already put her papers away.

“You didn’t have to put those away,” you tell her as you dig in. Funnily enough, you’re eating ziti tonight.

“I can grade during my prep tomorrow,” the teacher waves you off. “I just wanna look at you right now. Talk to you.”

Your heart practically melts. “Well, I pretty much know how your day went,” you tease her. “Harassed the firefighters all day to play on their truck. Anything interesting happen after I left? Is Barb okay?”

“Barb is fine,” Melissa assures you. She almost tells you that she told her coworkers about the two of you. But she doesn’t. “Did anything else happen after you left today?”

“Nothin that I had to go out for,” you tell her. “Although, the boys and I did have a pretty serious chat today.”

“Oh?” You can see her interest is piqued. “About new equipment?”

“About how they needed to stop thirsting over my girlfriend,” you say smugly. 

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?” she breaks out into a grin. “I still got it.”

“You do,” you chuckle quietly as you lean into her. “And after I made it very clear that you were mine, and I’d have their asses if they made another vulgar comment about you... Jake, one of the newer kids, very sweetly asked if you could consider making another tray of ziti for them. I guess that reminded them all how much they loved your ziti because Vince mentioned it again on my way out.”

“Just take some of the leftovers in with you tomorrow,” your girlfriend laughs. “I’ll make another tray over the weekend too.”

“They’re all gonna be trying to steal you from me even more now,” you playfully pout. 

“‘N I’ll tell ‘em I only got eyes for my girl,” Melissa says sweetly as she presses a kiss to your temple. “For the fire chief. That I don’t go for the regular firefighters.”

“Should I remind you we started dating when I was just a ‘regular firefighter’?”

“But now you’re a firechief, and I won’t settle for less,” she grins. Then she gets the courage to tell you what she wanted to tell you earlier. “I guess we had a pretty similar conversation with our coworkers today about each other.”

You furrow your brows.

“One of the fifth grade teachers saw you today and was saying the filthiest things about what he would do to you if he could, and I almost lit his car on fire,” Melissa tells you.

“I told you I don’t want you committing arson for me,” you tease her. 

“Barb held me back, and I told the guy, I says, ‘you don’t get to think about her that way, much less speak about her like that,’ and then I told him if he did, my foot would be so far up his-” the redhead shakes her head. “That’s besides the point.”

You roll your eyes fondly. Of course she threatened the guy. “So everyone knows now.”

“Janine is already asking when they get to meet you,” Melissa sighs dramatically. “I told them we would find a day, but I also told her we’re always busy, so there’s really no pressure, hon.”

“I think it might be interesting to finally meet all of these people I’ve heard so much about,” you tell her. “We could have them over for a barbecue on Saturday?”

“That’s so soon though,” she grumbles. “And I just told you I would make a tray of ziti this weekend for your guys.”

“I think it would be nice, babe,” you try to convince her. “You can make the ziti Sunday, and- hopefully- it’s too last minute for some of them, so you’ll just end up with me and Barb anyway.”

“Okay, okay,” she says after a few beats. “I’ll tell ‘em tomorrow at lunch.”

Of course, they all show up to your house on Saturday. Of course they do. They’re thrilled to meet the woman who finally took Melissa Schemmenti off the market. 

Next

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 • 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

SUMMARY: Charles and your son buy you a meaningful gift for your birthday

Genre: fluff

Warning: none

Pairing: Charles leclerc x reader, dad! Charles leclerc

Your sons hand was held tightly in Charles as they walked through the Store. The two were on a mission to find you a gift for your birthday. Your son was going on and on about how he wanted to get you a big gift. Macaroni necklace were no longer satisfying to the little boy anymore.

After a bit Charles caved and decided to take him to buy you something. After you left to go out with your girlfriends, the two leclerc’s went on their hunt

“We get a big gift Papa.” Your son said to Charles. The two looked through the aisles trying to figure out what to get. Charles suggested a mug and makeup but your son was quick to say no.

“Qu'est-ce qu'on va avoir ?" (What are we going to get).’ Charles stopped, kneeling down to your son’s height. The 4 year old pressed his pointer finger to his chin, eyebrows knitted as he started to think.

“I don’t know.”

Charles hummed. “Maybe we can get her some jewelry. Comment sonne un collier?” (how does a necklace sound?)

Your son face lit up and he quickly nodded. Charles stood back up and took his son’s hand leading them to the jewelry store.

-

“Wow, look at all these papa!” Your son peered into the glass case looking at all the different pieces of jewelry. Charles smiled. He loved watching your son getting fascinated by the little things in life.

“so which necklace should we get for Maman?” Charles asked after your son was done looking at the display.

“We get those most beautiful one.”

“how about we get something with your name on it?” Charles leads your son over to the necklace with names on it. Charles and your son spent a few minutes discussing what they should get.

After a bit of tiny bickering they settled on a necklace that said mama and a charm with both Charles and your son’s initials.

As Charles and your son walked out of the store after Charles paid your son couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Je suis vraiment enthousiaste.” (I’m so excited)

Charles chuckled placing the boy in his car seat. While Charles buckled him up he couldn’t help but tell him a few last words.

“When we get home you can’t tell Maman we got her the necklace. We have to wait till tomorrow. Pinky promise me you won’t say a thing.”

Charles held out his pinky finger. Your son quickly wrapped his pinky around his father’s. “I promise!”

--

Charles and your son made it home around the time you did. For the rest of the night Charles and your son kept their secret between them both.

Whenever you asked what they did while out all they did was mumble nothing with a little smirk.

The next day Charles woke up as soon as the sun peaked over horizon to get your birthday started. He slipped out of bed quietly so he didn’t wake you up and got dressed. It wasn’t unusual for Charles to get up early so if you saw him missing it wouldn’t be suspicious.

He left the apartment and ran to the store quickly. He got your favorite flowers and some pastries and tea from your favorite bakery.

When he returned home you were still fast asleep unaware of his run.

Charles creeped into your sons room quietly. The little boy was fast asleep in his car bed with his teddy bear tucked under his arm. He looked so peaceful. Charles didn’t want to wake him up, but he knew if he didn’t your son would be upset.

“Hey y/s/n, C'est l'heure de se lever.” (time to get up)

Your son sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Is it Maman birfday?”

Charles hummed. “Yes it is. Ready to get her the gifts we got?”

Your son nodded and tore the blanket off his body. He was ready.

You were fast asleep when you felt jumping on the bed. Groaning you Slowly opened your eye’s. The first thing you see is your smiley son standing In your bed in his Ferrari pajamas.

“Maman, Joyeux anniversaire!!”(happy birthday) your son leaned down and kissed your cheek gently something he learned from watching his dad.

“happy birthday Mon amour. We got you some breakfast from your favorite bakery and some flowers.”

Charles sat the breakfast bag and flowers on your nightstand before he leaned down and placed a kiss on your other cheek.

“maman me and papa got you a present yesterday!”

You son took the gift from Charles and handed it to you. The little boy giggled with excitement as you began ripping the paper off the present.

You gasped when you saw the necklace in the box. “ This is amazing baby!”

“It has Mama on it for you and me and papa’s initials.” Your son smiled proudly as he explained.

“I love it. I’m going to wear it every day.” You leaned over and kissed your son Chubby cheek making him giggle. you turning to Charles and doing the same.

“Can you put it on me?” you asked Charles. Your husband smiles, “of course.”

You turned around letting Charles place the necklace around your neck. You looked down at it taking it in. You weren’t lying when you said you were going to wear it every day. It was beautiful, it’s going to be your prize possession forever.

“Im hungry.” You heard your son say. He eyeballed the bag on the table. Charles laughed. “Ok let’s eat breakfast then later we’re going to get ready so I can take maman on to other surprises.”

--

My request are open for any Charles fics because I have no ideas. Also if I write more dad fics what should I call the boy?

[vaguely-concerned]

Eight Little Talons Reread Thoughts

Which, I’ll level with you folks, is mostly just me gushing about Teia and Viago and how much they should kiss because of who I am as a person, but maybe also some actual observations sprinkled in. This is still my favourite story in Tevinter Nights, I think, there’s so much Character Stuff in it. Let’s go!

Viago hated carriages—no amount of plush seating could make up for the inevitable ache of being knocked around like weighted dice. But decorum insisted, and he would not be outclassed by his fellow Talons.

Vs.

“You didn’t take a carriage.” 

“My luggage did. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a country jaunt.” She nodded toward the thoroughbred Taslin strider grazing on the top of the hill. “Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto.” 

“You named your horse after an archdemon?” 

“Don’t worry, Vi. I won’t let him nip you.

You know… Andarateia might gain some illusion of normalcy by standing next to the most paranoid wound-up-tight repressed man around to provide contrast, but I think it’s crucial we keep in mind that she is also nuts. Naming your horse after an archdemon IS an insane thing to do in the world of Thedas huh. I suppose she genuinely seems to think of Caterina Dellamorte as a warm maternal figure and is in love with a tetchy snake of a guy too, it does all start to add up when you look at it like that.

— Beneath the smooth samite, he felt like a sinewy ball of tension. Teia suspected contact of any kind made Viago uncomfortable. It would explain why he swathed himself in indigo from chin to toe and refused to remove his gloves during dinner.

He offers his arm to her and doesn’t pull away when they meet Caterina — only when Dante shows up. Interesting (and possibly part of why Caterina seems to consider the two of them a cleverly stabilizing package deal when they get along lol). I love the mix of playful seduction and genuine fond, intimate knowledge and interest Teia has for him all the way through too — speculating about his childhood, trying to divine his thoughts and intentions, testing to see how he reacts to different things. And it’s so sweet that she seems to regard him with this affectionate amusement and fascination (which he seems to be afraid means that she’s mocking him but is, I think, just another level of appreciation she has for him. Correctly. Because he’s one of the funniest people in Thedas both in concept and in practice. Accountant brained-ass noodle arm Vetinari homage poison specialist. Teia’s neurotic purse dog of a man. Sole royal bastard who willingly chose to have a boring Antivan day job (killing people) and makes spreadsheets about it.) 

— “Not exactly welcoming, are they?” Teia whispered, her breath warm against his ear. 

Viago’s grip tightened on the head of his walking stick.

I swear to god courtney woods is so fucking good at writing romantic and sexual tension. One sentence!!! She drops in a one-sentence detail and it says everything!!!! She has such a knack for consistently adding these details without getting overindulgent or spelling it out too much that I really admire, I tend a bit more towards indulging too much as a writer that way myself so her sense of where to show restraint has me in awe 

— “Don’t ‘Nonna’ me, Andarateia Cantori,” Caterina snapped, although the heat in her voice had lowered to a simmer. “Not even my actual grandchildren call me that.” 

“Well, considering who your grandchildren are,” Teia responded, “I’m not surprised.” 

“How is Master Lucanis?” Viago asked.

Hell yeah Lucanis mention! Can’t wait to see how their dynamics will turn out in-game, we could be in for some truly spectacular and absurd workplace comedy nonsense if we’re lucky

— As always, Viago had with him his leather case of poisons and antidotes for toxins typically hidden in ingredients such as olives, truffles, pasta, lamb, cheese, cream, and alcohol. But he had not expected eggplant.

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read, I love Viago so much he’s such a perfect weirdo. Reader, he had not expected eggplant. 

— Taking a deep breath, Viago focused on tying his cravat—an ordinarily simple task except now Teia was running her hands across every surface in his room, and his fingers kept slipping on the final knot. “It would help if you removed the gloves,” Teia remarked. “Surely your own cravats haven’t been tampered with.”

Viago being just… seethingly horrifically despairingly horny every time Teia shows up is so amazing, and Teia clearly paying A Lot of attention to his hands and his reactions at all times… again, courtney woods s tier sexual tension provider. 

— “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not until we boil some water.” 

Viago raised a brow. “Eight people were poisoned in this room.” 

“Then run your little tests to make sure it’s safe, but I refuse to look at another dead body until I’ve had my coffee.”

I must take care to repeat: teia is also fucking nuts (affectionate). It’s SO FUNNY that her slightly lighter and softer moral take on being a Crow means she does feel bad about the servants ending up in the crossfire, but she will also demand that viago make her coffee with their horrifically bloated corpses still strewn about the room fhdsjka. 

— Teia had often imagined what it would be like to kiss Viago. She told herself it was only natural. He was handsome, in his own way, and wound up so tight that she likened him to a giant knot. He was a challenge to untie—to twist and pull and loosen until the tension gave way and he unraveled, laying bare all his secrets. But knots were a delicate business. Tug the wrong way and you could end up with a noose.

I know I KNOW they have sex so weird and intimate and no one even takes their clothes off during it I know it in my heart

— “Do you not think you’re attractive?” Viago turned on her, his ears pink. “Ten people are dead.” 

She didn’t back down. “And whoever’s responsible will pay, but that has no bearing on this conversation.” 

“It could be me.” 

Covering her mouth with both hands, Teia doubled over, laughter spilling from her lips. “It’s not you.” 

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m more than capable of killing everyone here.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re offended!” 

“It is offensive,” Viago protested. “Professionally.”

Teia please tell me you love me not only for my body and fashion sense and numerous and fascinating neuroses but also my extensive knowledge of poisons and capacity to cause death

— Again, Viago felt like a lute string. With every challenge, Teia twisted the pegs, tuning him, until she found what she wanted. Which is what, exactly? he asked himself, not daring to listen to the number of answers that bubbled to the surface of his mind.

You know Viago I think we should let her try some scales here at least. See what happens. (There’s no explicit sex in this story but everything that’s going on is nevertheless so kinky fdsjak. I think Teia could convince Viago to show a flash of his naked wrist and have a reaction like a sheltered young Victorian gentleman seeing an exposed ankle and a playful wink for the first time)

— As if she could feel the sudden rush of shame within him, Teia brought her hands up to rest on Viago’s hips, holding him in place. His thumb stilled as he realized her breath was short. Her pupils dilated. Before he could stop himself, Viago nuzzled his forehead against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. Teia’s hands snaked up his chest to run through his hair. She tugged him forward. He braced himself on one arm, while the other curled around the small of her back. 

This whole scene is unspeakably good of course but it’s always the detail of ‘his nose brushing her cheek’ that does me in the most. The longing!!! The yearning, the intimacy, the awkward perfect clumsy physical reality of it!!!! If he kissed her here the magical potion thing on her lips would have been immaterial, the results would have been the same without it!!!!!! The tug of war between longing and fear!

— oblique Zevran mention! <3 as the ultimate failson of house arainai, granted, but as I believe he might argue here: ‘ah, but you have heard of me, no? :>’. Babe I support you so much go out there and raise hell/kill whoever you want to I got your flower

— Big shoutout to the author for managing to pull off an entirely workable ‘And Then There Were None’ plot in the background here, even though the real meat and potatoes going on is the character and relationship development (and what meat and potatoes they are too)! It’s not an easy thing to do even in an abbreviated, more of a homage sort of form and balancing it with everything else going on is a feat

— Caterina 100% knows Teia is in Viago’s room when he’s supposed to be isolated and just doesn’t care lmao. (They act like such teenagers in that scene where she knocks on the door and they haven’t even kissed yet I’m dying). Caterina seems like a terrible person but it’s impossible to not feel for her a little, trying to keep Talons in line seems a lot like herding (very horny very carrying sharp objects) cats 

— Standing outside her ex-lover’s room, Teia tried to quell the violent drumming within her. Normally, she didn’t need to come down from a physical encounter. Seduction—like any form of manipulation—was about control. She could enjoy herself, but Teia always made sure to hold the upper hand. Viago had shattered that control without so much as a kiss.

I feel like this is a sneaky common trait that actually is part of what makes them so compatible (and the playful negotiation of which must feature prominently in their sex life eventually lmao): they are both HUGE control freaks. (Indeed it might be hard to be a successful Talon without this trait.) Teia and Viago both strive for control of themselves and their surroundings so deeply, she’s just much more extroverted, psychologically minded and soft power focused going about it (not unlike Caterina, whose power is built more on fear than charm but works along the same lines), while he’s more coldly intellectual and uh materialist? I want to call it? about it. Which makes perfect sense considering their backstories! Teia came from nothing in a monetary sense but has found she excels at moving people, hearts and minds style — and she’s very good at it, she is everyone’s favorite — so that’s the source of power for her, and Viago is not very charismatic or interested in people naturally but grew up seeing how status, wealth and power have their own clinical gravity that can be used, and also that people can never be trusted to watch out for you in that system.  

If Thedas has a Machiavelli-equivalent to ask whether it’s better for a ruler to be feared or loved they would both instantly give their answer with their whole chest and then squint at each other like ‘babe how do you live like this’ lol

(Also this line of thought has me wondering what the hell Caterina’s partner/spouse(s) would have been like — she must have at least two children to account for Illario and Lucanis, I wonder if she was ever married and what that looked like.)

— I really like the oppressiveness and claustrophobia you get from the descriptions Teia uses in Dante’s room — it feels so icky and sticky with history and sad and confining, and the way she keeps pushing herself through it anyway is weirdly melancholy to me. 

— I also like how their flaws/traits that drive them apart at the crisis point have follow-up consequences outside of their relationship before they reconcile. Teia’s penchant for manipulation and pushing on people indirectly causes the death of someone she once cared about (I mean, fuck that guy, not crying any tears for Dante or his broken bottle, but like in the overarching principle of the thing lol). When she goes too far with it or gets careless, she renders other people vulnerable and helpless in ways she doesn’t anticipate. (Rightfully or not this seems to be part of what scares Viago so much about it, he has this fear of being dissected for whatever she finds interesting and then abandoned when she’s tired of it, the whole underlying being a footnote in her life when she could clearly be something uh a lot more in his anxiety.) Meanwhile Viago’s insistence on self-reliance and reluctance to engage in human contact leaves him easily isolated and nearly results in his death. (And even when Teia saves him he has a hard time giving her full credit in favour of his many neurotic coping mechanisms lmao disaster man.) But when the two of them work it out to understand each other better and come together as a partnership, they’re such a force to be reckoned with that it brute forces the resolution and return to stability near the end. (Well. A significantly reduced version of stability to be fair but y’know better late than never.)

— Also: delicious detail that she is actually the closest you might get to a self-made woman/Talon, and he is definitely at least not in a position to fully dodge the nepo baby allegations — he wants so bitterly to be entirely independent and self-sufficient and not reliant on anyone, and yet it’s his connections inherent to his birth that have helped him get here, while she wants so desperately to have people to rely on because she comes from nothing and has known what it is to be that alone and unprotected. He knows protection and gifts — and love — can easily be taken away and used to control you/render you helpless in your vulnerability from how his father treated his mother, and she knows you have to try to hold on to something in other people or it’s just you and the dirt and you die. Which is what they’re really talking about in that scene where they argue, and it’s why they’re both right and wrong at the same time and it’s so tasty. It’s really Teia asking ‘Will you ever trust anyone? (will you ever trust me, or will you put up this wall every time no matter what I say or do?)’ and Viago going ‘Will you never take precautions to protect yourself against this hurt? (will I have to be the bearer of bad news about how the world really is every time?)’ and neither of them realize that’s what they’re taling about and it’s why it all explodes so badly. (I mean. Factually both came to the wrong conclusion about who the murderer was for fairly good reasons, so there’s also that haha.) 

— I wonder if we’ll see Bolivar or the heirs to the houses left Talon-less in the game itself. I’m guessing they probably won’t have big roles, at least, but you know just as background flavour, especially since Crow!Rook is already within the de Riva uh household as it were. I think Viago is still sensibly mid-table at Fifth Talon in Veilguard and Teia remains Eight? So at least they’re not messing around with that rank order during the occupation 

— In semi-not teia and viago news (I am a character first writer and reader I canot change this), it’s neat to see it outlined just how much the Talons really are just merchant princes with some more added knives and cultural weight behind them. They are at the end of the day running businesses, no matter the mystique ™ you wrap it in. (Which I think Viago would be the first to tell you and Teia might try to argue against at least a little haha. Being a Talon is what you make of it you live your truth girl kill awful men you’ll never run out of contracts!!)

— Can’t believe the Crows have self-congratulatory ‘top 10 murders in history!’ classes as part of the training. Do you think Zev sat through those. Probably, if Teia did, right. Now there were some entertaining hours around the campfire during the Blight I’m sure

— Viago understanding but not accepting Teia’s offer to help him with an alibi and at first angling it as being out of hesitancy to accept help/rely on someone, and then later unveiling the added element that he knows Teia respects and loves Caterina and doesn’t want her to have to lie to her for him… Viago is nothing so simple as secretly nice deep down but he IS horrifically in love with and desperate to be kind to specifically Teia and it gets to me okay  

— I’d forgotten that DA’s passionate love affair with toxic yuri and some recreational bury your gays extended to Guili and Lera in this fdskjah. Would it really be Thedas without it I suppose (considering the genre of the short story it’s fine with me in this case, though, everyone’s dropping like flies in this even the straight people that’s just equality) 

— Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. What Teia had elicited in him was akin to an internal natural disaster.

I simply love him so so much. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. He failed to account for the eggplant. He’s so annoyed at being poisoned and dying horribly and it literally never occurs to him that anyone would help him until he wakes up in Teia’s lap. He organizes all his poisons by puns. He uses his potentially last breath to argue with Teia about his precise state of dress or undress. Have we finally found him, the perfect man? 

(Also between Reyes and Viago Courtney Woods does such a good line in guys who’d really rather be emotionless machines of practical violence and monetary gain but find themselves down so horrifically catastrophically bad that it cracks them open to reveal a soul they aren’t all that happy to discover they have lol) 

— When Viago woke, it felt like someone had drained the blood from his body and replaced it with sludge. But it wasn’t all bad—someone who smelled like coffee and cinnamon was playing with his hair. . . . Her fingers resumed stroking his hair. It felt better than the water. It felt better than anything.

Unspeakable. Don’t look at me. 

— Viago reaching out and touching Teia’s cheek with his bare hands without a thought and all his tenderness and reverence for her laid bare in turn is something that can actually be so personal and it only took very nearly dying to get there (also… he’s presumably still half-naked through all of this while cradled in her lap. Amazing.). Can’t believe bare hands to cheek feels like third base with these two. And his fucking THOUGHTS through all of this… Don’t cry, he doesn’t deserve your tears, no one does (I don’t, I don’t want to be something that causes you pain) AOUGH

— Vaguely related: the implication in how that part is built is that he’s reaching out specifically to gently dry away her tears, right. Double AOUGHHHHHH not only does he manage to not be selfish or unfair in asking her not to cry he does that instead… there’s hope for you yet messere de riva  

— Teia with the red-hot poker standing guard over Viago while he ‘looks like a king in judgement’ and does the Poirot in the library exposition is everything and so hot what the fuck. She a snacc she attacc but most importantly… she protecc, she’s so fucking cool lol. they’re both really smart, but she’s clearly the brawn as well as the social skills (hey manipulation is such an ugly word!) and he’s the logistics and realpolitik on two long thin nerdy legs, absolute power couple. She’s the gaslight he’s the girlboss together may they gatekeep this invading army out of antiva  

— You guys… this might come as a surprise I have tried to keep it on the down low but. I really do love the world of Thedas so very much. I love the people and the places and the history and the stupidness and the brilliance so much. We must save the world because everyone I love lives here. Let this be a secret between just you and me we can’t let people know we sit/have emotions etc.  

— A servant approached to take the cage in Viago’s hand. 

“Careful,” Viago warned. “He bites.” 

“I can’t believe you’re keeping that snake,” Teia said, shaking her head. “It almost killed you.” 

“Which is more than any man can say. He deserves my respect. And a good home—with all the mice he can eat.” 

“But did you have to name it Emil?” Teia asked, making a face. 

“An homage. You’re always telling me to recognize my fellow Talons.”

Andarateia ‘names her horse after an archdemon’ Cantori x Viago ‘keeps the deadly adder that nearly killed him as a pet and names it after the last guy who failed to murder him’ de Riva. Freak well and truly matched. Soulmates, no notes, I’ll do borderline anything for these two to make it, goodnight.