#Thomas-x-Guy

[acid-ixx]

no pain, no gain, right?

"is this all a game, or are they all secretly masochists?!"

nah, imaging being kidnapped by the batfam, neglected or not, romantic or platonic, and being expected to treat your abduction as merely normal, to love them like you've known them for your entire life rather than strangers who randomly decided that you're the object of affection they'd focus on their attention on one day—

do they honestly think you'd fall for their honeyed words? of course not! you're fucking trapped with both men and women alike with physical capabilities enough to trap you in a headlock or in a bear hug. they could kill you with a damn finger jabbed into your neck. is that not a valid enough reason for you to try and constantly fight them?

if you're a person bound on the feistier side, the first course of action you'd commit on, say, dick who's known to be the most physically affectionate, the neediest of them all - who's constantly kissing you, playing with your hair and laying his head on your chest - would be your nails digging deep into his skin and dragging it along his back, or trying to throw a punch into tim's face when you feel he's been staring into you rather than at you far too deeply for your liking, watching the blood drip down his nose like a faucet right after, as long as it means his eyes would leave your body for just a damn second.

whatever they're doing, even if they're always assuring you that they're doing this out of love, out of protection, out of their deep-seated paranoia that out there, you're not safe, you won't survive; their actions are all done for you — yet they'll always be met with you threatening to bite or chew their faces off. they're not your damn family, or lovers, or whatever fantasies they think they could reenact with you, and they know damn well that you won't be giving up soon, not at all—!

yet you don't know that behind your fiery side are those willing to let the fire burn much longer, those who throw more logs and gasoline into the ever-burning pit of rage and spite that crackles at your heart.

jason trying to trap you into his muscly arms only warrants your fight-or-flight instincts, akin to a gothamite walking past the crime alley, kicking and scratching at the man just wishing for a day of comfort as he sighs and nuzzles his head into the crown of your hair, breathing deeply to take in your scent, as if you're not currently pulling his hair out. he'll let you bite on his hard neck, or kick at the fat of thighs or even his crotch with no reaction other than tightening his already caged grip on your body.

a body much frailer compared to everybody else's. a mere gazelle to a lion ready to be chased anytime soon.

bruce placing a hand behind your back will only result in you digging deeply into his forearms, wide eyes and heaving breaths that reflects not only utter fear but a thinly-veiled threat of another session of attempting to uppercut him, like you're some wild prey ready to make a run if he dares push the boundaries you settled for. yet all he does is try his best to warmly smile at you without any weariness, not even any vigilance of your future actions, and most especially not fear.

how long are you going to fight them? why are even you doing this? to soften the blow? to make them wish they regret even taking you away from the first place? or do you wish for them to feel a semblance of fear you felt whenever their toned arms surprised you from when they appeared before a shadow? do they not know just how deeply terrified you are of them, that you're doing all this because you're afraid of their strength?

except, what you expected never came. you would've been fine with them punishing you, slowly losing their inhibitions, snarling at you every damn time you snap, becoming tired of your antics and threatening to throw you out, even mocking you for your weakness; anything...!

but not whatever this is.

not the stupidly gentle smiles, or the droopy eyes that look as if they've fallen in love even more at just how much droplets of blood you were able to procure with another set of scratches against jason's forearms. not the astounded whistles at another bruise you managed to punch into steph's shoulders after a momentary lapse of shock from another one of her back hugs— as of this were some all sick form of therapy. you know they're taking your daily fights seriously, you know it because they always take note of it by staring at each other every time you manage to injure them! but fuck, why are they just letting you do as you will?

since when have your nails been longer, sharper even?

why is jason just... staring at you, his gaze proud and mighty, not out of his attempts at mocking you but looking genuinely so gratified. there's rivulets of crimson dripping down his neck all the way to the clavicle until it reaches his upper pecs, multiple indents of scars already faded, now overlayed with fresher, even deeper ones; displayed like a museum artifact by his loose tee. his fingers, shaky and equally scarred, moved to run over the inflicted injuries, touching and pressing deep, as it just as quickly finds its way to his mouth, lapping at the blood, his eyes never leaving your equally shivering form; dread and disgust curling into your very being.

he takes deep breaths after lapping his fingers clean, his fists are curled together like yours; except your nails are stained with blood, jason's, a stench that curdles deep into your nostrils. and for a second you feel something scarier than fear, an immeasurable pit of doom that looms over your back. for a second, you thought this would be the last time you'll ever see the light again. just as quickly as you scratched him, you try to retort with an excuse.

"jason, i'm- i'm so sorry i didn't mean to—!"

"we get it now, angel...

this is your way of coping, right? it's all good, do as much damage as you could 's long as you get it all out of your system, 'kay?

and thanks, by the way. this one's even better than the one you gave me just earlier."

what does he mean? what's even better...? you just- you just gave it your all trying to engrave your sharp nails into already scarred skin; why is he talking to you as if he's congratulating you rather than scolding you?

no, no, no... he shouldn't be all like this... why is everybody staying silent all throughout? why do your ears wring, every sound mapped around the house turned into one singular sound? this shouldn't be happening, no! he should be mad, should be punching you, bruce should've broken you both up the moment he noticed your hands make a way for jason's neck— yet since when did anybody try to interrupt?! the only damn time, god... the only time they ever do is when you try to inflict injuries on yourself, but never on others... just why?

there's sudden clapping that distracts you from your thoughts, from dick's or duke, you don't know? one of them is saying something and you can't comprehend it other than one-liners and muffled, incomprehensible words.

"—'m jealous of you," that's duke's voice! what else is he saying? why is he envious? of what exactly? the fear doesn't settle down unlike all the other times, there's tears that began brimming on your eyes and you still stand in the middle of the living room, the chandelier's light basking you in its ethereal glow, yet you feel the opposite. you're no angel as what's jason called you, and the people surrounding you are more like demons than anything else; witnessing your fall from grace, taking you away from your home whilst having the audacity applauding your presence as if you've fucking graced them.

and then steph coos, your head snaps to the direction of her grating "awe's!". you're convinced she's looking at jason like he's been vindicated for some crime, eyes you never knew could hold so much anger and spite. you don't know why she does, you don't understand the hidden implications of her next words, you can only watch from a distance.

"that should've been me, y'know! that's so unfair of you!" her seething voice and hardened glare at the man subsided into your thoughts; who wishes to be hurt? who even wants to be the victim of your feisty glares and venomous insults? you know they don't like it when you stare at them with burning hatred— but why do they enjoy it when you physically scar them instead? when you punch at their noses and watch as the blood stains their clothes evidently?

and yet it only registered within your mind just now: how they never seem to patch up any of the marks you imprint on their body. it's only now that you realize that they always bare it right in front of everybody, some even wearing looser clothes that give others a peek of their skin in the more intimate places you've marked. there's bandages from when they go home after every patrol, there's casts that they wear after suffering through broken bones and dislocated limbs from the criminals they fight every night— but never with you, not even a gauze from when you've cut all too keenly into damian's cheeks, a deep gash that he's sported proudly throughout the following months with everyone else seething, even bruce seems envious of his own son.

"well, it's not my fault you didn't try hard enough, blondie. right, angel? guess they love me even more than you," his sultry words pierced through your mind, and for just a second, he was already at your side, hands weighing on your shoulder whilst his head makes its way to the crown of your head, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on your forehead. he releases an airy laugh at the complaints that come after. and for a second, your claws were ready to retaliate from mere instinct, at how he dares treat the entire situation like a bragging right; but unlike last time, you try to hold back, shoulders sagging as you try to blink out the tears running down your eyes; all right after discovering their... sick fetishes.

fetishes you didn't know run deeper than just that. you don't even know of the competition they hold every night right after they put you to sleep, counting each and every scar, every pull of the hair, every bloodied nose, bruised eyes, scratched skin, cuts inflicted from knives and other sharp objects laying around, your very own murder attempts at your abductors; all tallied and inputted into barbara's coded system that tracks and points each and every injury. you don't know just how much they cherish these marks you left in their body, like medals dangling off their parts that showcase their dedication, their patience never dwindling at achieving your trust— bruce once said it was an unhealthy habit of yours, but dick retaliates, saying it's the only way they could get closer to you.

it's the only time that you willingly touch them, even if it's with animosity, with passion and hope that someday you'd maim them just hard enough to escape.

"don't even think tonight's over yet, todd. you all simply haven't seen what they've done to me just yet," now it's damian who butts in, with emerald eyes gleaming with emotions you're still unable to detangle. yet now there's hints of rage, a face that says he's ready to compete with what jason has to offer now, hands caressing the cloth he wears that hides an injury enough to compete with the pain you've inflicted upon jason, an injury you're far too familiar with.

he's the youngest, and sometimes, you feel the most fear trying to discern why he's too possessive of your time, of your space and your presence, all whilst sporting a glare that never seems to lighten. but nothing ever changed the fact that he's the one who pushes all your buttons the most, he's the one with the cruelest words and sickening intentions, enough for you to treat him the foulest you ever could; with murder the only product in your mind every time he tries to even come closer to you.

and his words right now made you realize just how deeply you fucked up, and just how equally as fucked up your abductors truly are...

after all, you did just bite him earlier, in the space between his neck and shoulders from when he attempted to lick at your neck, making sure your teeth grates at his skin and nearly rips at flesh; to the point where the taste of blood that filled your mouth still lingers even until now.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: art by yuto sano. written in 30 minutes sheesh. you know what's scarier than your kidnappers retaliating against you whenever you try to attack them? them taking it all in stride instead. the delusional belief that it's your own expressive way of getting used to their presence— even going as far as turning it into some sort of competition on who gets to have the most scars by the end of the day. i think that's absolutely more insane than just punishing you, and please tell me i was at least able to portray the feeling of doom well with this. i also hope this isn't too ooc. guys, pls pls pls tell me what you think of this, did this cook or what? interaction's been low lately and i've been feeling demotivated to write so uhm... also, if anyone wants me to write the difference between the romantic or platonic implications of masochist/sub batfam, just tell me and i will!

this is inspired by @on-leatheredwings post about masochist tim drake. she's literally the reason why i read the entire red robin comic run and was obsessed with him for like a long period of time because of her banger portrayal of him. and it's also inspired by @sleepingdiaryzzz's recent post, her writing is really immaculate and well thought out unlike mine LMAO and she's a tad bit underrated so you guys definitely should check her out! this post is also dedicated to @neerathebrightstar, thank u for being my coolest supporter ever.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Danny is 18, and is on the run from Vlad, who wanted to reattempt his cloning plot. In order to do that, he had to see why Dani was the only cloning that managed to survive. Sam, Tucker,the Fentons and Jazz are dead

So he kidnapped her, and in the process, Dani deaged to an infant. Currentlyx they were both nearing Gotham, and, the GIW were on their tail

Danny made it all the way to Bristol before he had to stash Dani in a alley and deal with the GIW agents

Danny doesn’t return.

An hour later Thomas and Martha Wayne were out for a walk with their one month old son when the heat faint cries of a baby from an alley.

They enter the alley and see an infant girl wrapped in a blanket covered with stars. Her only belongings were a green thermos, vials of bright green liquid and a red beanie with the name ‘Danielle Jane’ scrawled on it.

Normally they would’ve reported this to the police, but everyone knew that the police was corrupted and the fosters homes were horrible.

Besides, there was something about the girl that seemed… otherworldly.

So, the took her in.

Teh next week, the Gotham Gazette was printing papers with the front page ‘Wayne family reveals female twin, Danielle Jane Wayne!’

They had pretended that Danielle was the twin that they didn’t know about until the due date and she came out sickly, so the doctors kept her in the hospital until she recovered.

As they grew up, Dani and Bruce were inseparable, with Dani not remembering her halfa side and Bruce not knowing they weren’t twins. They looked similar enough anyway.

All that change when the twins were 8. Thomas and Martha died, and the pain, shock and grief triggered Dani’s memories of being a halfa. The death kick started Bruce’s quest for vengeance (Dani wouldn’t seek vengeance, she couldn’t, not after Dan)

They began to drift apart. Bruce didn’t tell her about his vigilante plans and Dani didn’t tell him about her halfa status.

By the time they were 19 and Bruce dropped out of collage, they both began traveling. Bruce to train, Dani to have fun.

Dani continued traveling when Bruce returned, promising to visit. Eventually Gotham forgot about the Wayne Heiress, especially as Batman appeared and Bruce adopted more children. Bruce also forgot to tell his kids about their ‘bio’ aunt

There are a couple ways the Batkids could find out about Dani

- Bruce gets lost in the Time stream and Alfred was deemed too old to get custody and Dick was deemed too young. No one knows what to do now, until Alfred calls in Dani, who arrives and immediately gets custody, reminding Gotham that she exists.

- a batkid is cleaning out the attic/empty rooms as a punishment and finds the Fenton thermos, ecto vials, and baby blanket.

Batkid (probs Dick): Bruce why do you have Lazarus pit water in your attaric??

Everyone: …

Bruce: … what?

Alfred: ah, those are your sisters

Bruce: where did Dani get Lazarus water? She hasn’t been at the Manor in years

Batkids: …we have an aunt???

Alfred: Martha and Thomas found her in an alley with those belongings. She seems to have forgotten to collect them. I shall give her a call.

Bruce: …Dani isn’t my twin sister?

Batkids: YOU HAVE A TWIN??!?

Bruce: WELL APPARENTLY NOT @jc-llex

- Bruce and the JLA are breaking into a GIW facility to get evidence for a murder (a collage boy named Daniel Fenton) and found Dani breaking in at the same time

-Dani ends up dating a JLA member and said member introduces her to the team (bonus points if it’s Hal or Diana)

- SO MUCH ANGEST AND CRACK AND FLUFF COULD BE FIT UNTO THIS PROMPT D O Y O U S E E T H E V I S I O N ? ? ?

[heeahheeya]

He treats her as he serves the goddess🙇‍♂️❤️🧝‍♀️

[bet-on-me-13]

Uncle Vlad

So! Vlad Masters, Maddie Walker, and Jack Fenton were a group of friends that studied together at Gotham University. They all studied the Effects of Ectoplasm of the world around them, from how it affected Space-time to how it affected the Flora of the world.

But they had another friend, one who was interested on how Ectoplasm affected Human Beings before they died, rather than after. He was a Med Student, and he wanted to see if there were any Medicinal applications to Ectoplasm.

His name was Thomas Wayne.

Thomas was actually great friends with the Trio, and eventually they became a Quartet. He was just as crazy as them, although he hid it better, and he loved to get into stupid shenanigans with them.

Unfortunately that all came to an end when Vlad got was put in the Hospital by a Lab Accident. He refused to see any of them, but Thomas managed to convince him to let him study how the Ectoplasm was affecting his Body to hopefully find a Cure. He was the most skilled Ecto-Biologist they had after all.

Thomas never managed to find a Cure, but he did manage to maintain his friendship with Vlad, even after Jack and Maddie got married and moved away to Illinois. He felt bad that their friend group fell apart like that, but with all their lives changing it was inevitable. Thomas himself was planning on proposing to his girlfriend Martha soon.

When Vlad moved away to Wisconsin after recovering from his Accident, he stayed in contact with Thomas as thanks for all the help he gave in trying to find a Cure. Unlike Jack and Maddie who moved away without even trying to say goodbye, Thomas stuck around and stayed his friend.

He even became the Godfather to his son, Bruce. He later got a Letter from Jack and Maddie naming him the Godfather of their own son, Daniel, but he didn't really care as much. Bruce was an adorable little boy, and incredibly intelligent, he got that from his Father obviously.

Or course, then That Day happened. Thomas and his wife were Shot by a mugger and poor Bruce was left without his parents. Vlad tried to take him in, but was rejected on the grounds that he was still "Too frail to get out of his House".

He stayed in Contact with Bruce, but it became harder as time went on. From both the revelation that Daniel Fenton was a Halfa like him, and the fact that Bruce was traveling so much, he didn't have much of a chance to contact him. He needed to split his attention, and Daniel took a lot more than expected.

He hoped Bruce would stay a good kid, Daniel gave him too many headaches already.

...

A few years later, Bruce Wayne became the Batman.

[densewentz]

Edwin has to bite his lip to smother his laugh, shoulders shaking minutely against tanned skin. The rough sound ratchets up a tick. Purring. The Cat King is purring.

Guys I wrote 2k of toothrotting catwin fluff! Check it out on ao3 💕

tags: edwin/cat king, established relationship, Teen, no archive warnings, kissing/cuddling, purring, excessive use of the words warmth and rumbling, just generally a sweet soft little thing tbh

[american-horror-whore]

SICK DAY — evan peters ᥫ᭡.

a/n. requested ୨ৎ

warnings. adult content, nsfw, cunnilingus, hair pulling, gentle oral sex

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐥𝐲, watching Evan waltz into the bedroom. His large hands held a bowl that was filled to the brim with chicken noodle soup.

“There you go, baby..” Evan sighed, placing the bowl down on your nightstand. You turn your head weakly, staring at the white, ceramic bowl, steam rising up in small streams into the air, releasing the smell of the classic sick-day food. The dim lighting of your room reflected off the ceramic, making the atmosphere all the more cozy, even if you were sick.

The bedroom smelled of cold medicine, essential oils, and now chicken noodle soup. The large windows in the bedroom showed a beautiful view of the city’s skyline, giving you something to look at as you slowly rotted away with the vicious cold/flu-like sickness you had acquired from a coworker.

Evan placed the back of his hand on your forehead, the veins in his hands pushing against the abnormally warm flesh of your forehead. He hummed in a slightly concerned ton, putting his hand palm-down against your forehead, his thumb tracing slowly back and forth against your hairline.

“How’re you feelin’ chica?” Evan asked, using a nickname he’s had for you since you two started dating. You attempted to answer him, but he obviously wouldn’t be able to understand a sea of unintelligible “mnnn..”s and “bleh..”s.

“…shitty…” You manage to mutter out over all other things deemed incoherent. Evan placed a kiss to your forehead, his soft lips brining a cold fake-out feeling to your skin. You knew his lips weren’t actually cold. But it was a stark contrast to your body burning up like the Sahara Desert.

“Mm…I know, babe..” He cooed softly, kissing your forehead once again. You whined, your fingers pawing around his face. The pads of your fingers felt the semi-coarse feeling stubble that he was starting to grow, due to having to constantly take care of you these past days, which meant he had no time to shave.

Evan’s kisses trailed down your temples to your neck, opening and closing his mouth against your skin. You let out a soft moan, lolling your head back a bit. He slipped his hands under your hoodie, prying it up a little so his hands could run over your stomach. He pulls the hoodie from your body, gently as to not hurt you or jostle you around too much. Evan hooked his fingers in your sweatpants, pulling them down to your ankles as he started to speak.

”Any position you want, babe. Name it and we’ll do it..” Evan murmured huskily, kissing at your thighs. He lays on his stomach, gently guiding your legs over his shoulders.

Evan kisses you through your panties, nuzzling his nose against your clothes clit. He nipped your inner thighs, sucking roughly on the skin. When he pulled away, a small hickey already had started to form.

“…Whatever you want..” You murmured back, your hands going down to his hair. You tangled the brown locks with your fingers, intertwining but not pulling yet.

“Well I wanna keep you laid down…You don’t need to do a ton of moving around..” Evan said, pressing a small kiss to your cunt. He pulled one hand down, spreading your lips open, making them separate with a wet, vulgar sound. Evan pushed the tip of his tongue inside, swirling shallowly just far enough into your entrance before pulling back.

Evan spit on the tips of his finger, sliding them up and down your slit. You let out a shaky whine, silently pleading with him to keep going as you tugged gently on his hair.

“Agh, fuck…” Evan groaned gruffly, flicking his tongue up and down against your clit. he took the small bud into his mouth, sucking gently on it. He swirled his tongue around the happy little bundle of nerves before pushing it out of his mouth, sucking on the entirety of your pussy now. He pushed his tongue in and out of your hole, bending his tongue up inside of you to make you feel the maximum amount of pleasure. You tense your muscles, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed at his curls.

“Fuck-!!” You squeal, closing your legs around his head. He groans, his hands quickly going to your thighs as he continued to eat you out.

His tongue flicked against you once more, starting at the bottom of your cunt, drawing a wet line up to your clit, which received a few kisses. Evan nuzzled his face against you, breathing you in. “You doing okay..?”

You nod weakly. You loved it when he did this. When he took care of you, tried his hardest to take your mind off of being sick..You loved him. You were pulled out of your blissful thoughts of praise as you felt him hit that good spot. Your muscles tensed, your fingers clenched in his hair. And then you came, your orgasm crashing over you as harshly as it possibly could, making your already sickly body shudder. You let out a sharp moan, the loudest noise you’ve made yet.

Evan chuckled throatily licking another line from the bottom of your slit up to your clit, collecting that sweet, sugary substance, tasting of hints of honey and sin. He sighed, exhaling against your skin before continuing to clean you up.

“You’re so good..You feel better, chica..?” He chuckled softly, resting his head on your lower stomach. You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you sighed, your chest heaving softly. Evan smiled, wiping his mouth as he sat up. He readjusted you, slipping your panties and hoodie back on. He held your hips, moving you carefully into a sitting position, holding that ceramic bowl of chicken noodle soup.

“Let’s get you eating something, baby..” Evan smiled, grabbing the spoon in the bowl.

taglist. @fear-is-truth @dangeroustaintedflawed @newwavesylviaplath @coentinim @lacucarachapisser @evansonlylove @dearlizzies @oceanblvd111 @foreverviolets @emmasshitblog @jazz-berry @xrag-dollx @taintandviolent @colinzabelswife @marchsfreakshow @evanpeterspeter @whosbloom @redroses07 @lemoniiiiiii @partypoisxn @evanpetersbf @ultraviolamb @jdnymos

american-horror-whore © 2024. All rights reserved. Do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content. Inspiration may be taken with permission

[yvainart]

confidence looks good on edwin

[zomb-rabbit]

Rabbit

Rabbit I'm begging you to do stalker headcanons with Mh or EMH guys (you don't gotta ofc! But w o ah)

🐟

AAAA IM SO HAPPY U LIKED THEM !!!! I WAS RLLY HAPPY W HOW THE TOBY ONES CAME OUT :)))) also,,,, watch me hit u w ALL the guys !!!!!!!!!!!!!! (nsfw can come later if u wish fishy, i skipped it cus this is alr a super long post BFJSJFNJS) (also i got to use my rainbow dividers i have saved up cus there's so many ppl YAYYYYYYY)

[📹⛓️‍💥🚬👁️☠️🐇]

Stalker!Brian Thomas / Hoodie / Tim Wright / Masky / Evan Myers / HABIT x gn!reader headcanons :)

Brian ;

ok we know Brian likes to record

so expect there to be at least one camera on you a majority of the time

sometimes he'll leave it in a tree or placed just right behind a fence post, zoomed in on your bedroom window so he can document you and your routine even when he's busy

he's so thoughtful 😸😸😸

definitely the type to perfectly curate a "meet-cute" for the both of you, writing down the coffee place you stop off at on mondays for a pick-me-up, the stores you go to that have your favorite brand of something, he calculates his every action with you long before it's happened.

he knows what he's doing is wrong, but unlike Toby, he's not exactly ashamed of it. if anything he likes the added excitement that you could still find him out

this is one of the times him and Hoodie kind of blur together a little bit, both in morals and actions

Brian is fully willing to do whatever it takes to keep eyes on you and to keep you under his thumb and his alone; it doesn't matter who gets in his way

Hoodie ;

also a big fan of recording, but tends to get much more risky with it

likes the feeling that you might catch a little camera that's nestled in between some trinkets and books or a pile of blankets you keep on your couch

he is a creepy creeper . he wants to watch EVERYTHING

gets his feelings hurt when you close your curtains cus you feel eyes on you (you're right, but still :(()

it takes a lot to deter him from doing everything in his power to keep watch over you

he's not even sure of his own motives, really. sure, he wants to keep you safe and make sure no one else is watching you, but most of the time he's just there to watch.

you're like a doll to him, something to entertain him.

Masky ;

this isn't even part of this i just wanna say the vibe for stalker Masky (and just him in general tbh) for me feels a lot like the intro to My Meds Aren't Working by Dystopia . very slow, calculating, stuck in your own head but still zeroed in on one thing

and it's you ofc !!!!

i think Masky is one of the more scarier guys to have stalking you on this lineup honestly. hot? yes absolutely. terrifying to see constantly out of the corner of your eye, sitting at the bus stop outside your job, standing in the parking lot of the gas station by your apartment complex and staring up into your window? YES VERY

he's haunting. he doesn't go up to you, will go completely brick wall at you if you try to come up to him, and you can never tell what emotion is going on behind his eyes. the few times you've walked closer to him, likely on the street in the earlier stages, he looked hungry. like he was waiting and watching for your guard to be down to do something.

if he knows you'll be out, he'll get into your house to steal some of your clothes- likely your underwear (creepy crawler) and a sleep shirt

you will never see him without the mask on. point blank. not to smoke, eat, anything. he is not human or himself when he's around you; he needs to absorb everything about you.

i don't think of him to be the type to film you, would rather be there in person 24/7. it feels more personal to him.

Tim ;

one of the few guys that feels guilt about what he's doing- he knows how scary it is to feel watched all the time. how awful it is to find out you were right.

he’s embarrassed of himself; he’s prided himself on being stoic and independent for so long that this sudden urge to love you and watch you and know you gives him waves of shame

watches from afar, would definitely try and avoid letting himself get too close to you in person. he’s ashamed of it, but he can’t help himself- he needs you, even if at a distance. 

steals clothes you’ve slept in so he can try and satiate his yearning to be close to you without actually needing to be so vulnerable, with you or anyone

his near dependency on you reminds me of It Will Come Back by Hozier, his obsession is fed by breadcrumbs from the few in-person up close encounters he’s had with you. smiles when he comes into where you work, nervous little waves when you catch him looking at you at the store, soft 'excuse me!'s when you pass by him

you drive him up a wall (lovingly)

Evan ;

Evan feels guilty, but for the ‘wrong’ reasons

i say ‘wrong’ because he’s more concerned with you inevitable introduction to the whole Habit mess, not with the morals of stalking and obsessing over you

despite his guilt, he can’t get enough of you. his persistence rivals Brian's; it’s almost immediate that he tries to get you with him

latches onto you for fear of you leaving- honestly less of a stalker and more on the obsessive side. not good at keeping his hands to himself. 

you might be one of the only cases where he tries to bargain and/or work with Habit, in an attempt to keep you safe or keep you near him out of desperation if you're not listening to him when he tries to convince you to stay with him essentially 25/8

touchy obsessive little critter . give him what he wants before he goes sicko mode (being 10 feet away from you at all times)

Habit ;

does not hide himself AT ALL

will actively be letting you know he's watching

seeing him behind you in mirrors, rabbit motifs everywhere, a random blood splatter in plain sight that no one else seems to see.

he watches, he knows, and he learns

what things make you the most paranoid, all the ways he can slowly introduce himself in a more. friendly light to get you to trust him. to love him.

he's what's best for you, whether you like it or not. it just might take some time for you to get there

ironically for him, think 'The Best Is Yet To Come' by Frank Sinatra. it's just a matter of time before things get so much better. for the both of you, of course!

[zanephillips]

SKYMED 2.02 "Spun Out"

[gbirrd]

DUN-DUH-DUH-DUUUUHN!

suprise! i've been working as part of ANOTHER Bang! I paired up once again with the delightful @englandamericaitaly to create this piece for their fic as part of the @dpxdcbigbang !

you can read their fic here- a really fun read, and of course I drew the scene with my boy Duke. we gotta step up folks! not enough art of this weird little daylight-loving freak out here!

Image ID:

A drawing of a very dark train tunnel, with a rail track stretching down from the top towards the bottom of the image. At the top of the piece near the back of the tunnel is Duke Thomas in his Signal armour, giving off a strong yellow glow as he is crouched over Clayface, arm raised in a fist to punch him as his head is raised to look up with glowing eyes. Clayface's hand is wrapped around Duke trying to pull him off. At the bottom of the page near the front of the tracks, Jazz Fenton stands facing Duke with a faint green glow. Three shadowy figures stand behind her. In the top right corner there is a close-up panel of Jazz's eyes, in all green, and mirroring it in the bottom left are Duke's eyes in all yellow.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 13 - "Come with me, hurry."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

Duke didn't know what was happening anymore right now. All he knew was that it had started with simply wanting to help someone. Or rather even sooner, with having been forcefully paired up with the new transfer student that everyone for some reason avoided.

The new transfer student, Danny Nightingale, had joined his class around mid semester, he wore a lot of apparently customized -as he later learned- ghost themed accessories. Somehow he got away with it without constantly getting sent to the principal for violating school uniform guidelines. Partially Duke believes that the teachers just gave up after the first week.

Aside from that the first time Duke had even seen the guy, for a short moment he thought that he had looked directly into the sun but then a second later his vision was back to normal like nothing happened but the transfer was staring at him with an eyebrow raised. They had stared at each other for a long time and Duke was sure that right then and there they both had noticed each other's possible Meta status.

But nothing strange had happened after that for a little while, well major really. Minor things kept happing and Duke was convinced that the guy had to be a Meta. The strange little incidence of things going missing but reappearing the next day, utilize or tool appear in the others hand like out of nowhere, the guy suddenly leaving class without explanation, well sometimes at least asking to get excused but still leaving even if their teacher said no or the bouts of green light Duke occasionally caught around the guy.

This transfer student had to be a Meta. Duke had no problem with it, in fact he was kind of happy to find that one of his classmates was a Meta. He just didn't know how to bring it up to him. Considering that most Metas in Gotham lived in hiding and fear, he knew he couldn't just go, walk up to the guy and bluntly ask if he was a fellow Meta.

So after a little discussion with his siblings, Duke decided he would just keep an eye out for his classmate. Trying to complete the friendship route first before and hoping that this way Danny would open up to him. So for now he was making sure the other stayed safe and all that, Duke had even asked his siblings if he should tell Bruce about his Meta classmate just in case but they had told him that as long as nothing major happens to the kid it should be enough for them to keep an eye out.

The friendship route was going great in Duke opinion. Well that was until he got partnered up with him for a group project. Duke really wanted to say that working together with Danny on the project was making it so much easier to connect with the other aside from just joining him during lunch break or trying to strike up a conversation before classes. But the or their group was not making it easier, in fact, Duke got the feeling they tried to actively exclude Danny if it weren't from him.

The day when they all met in the library made it even more obvious. Danny hadn't even known they were meeting up to work on it until Duke texted him asking where he was. He gave the other the best Damian Glare impression he could muster up when he found out and then a Jason death glare impression when they found excuses to leave once he called Danny over when he saw him walking through the library doors.

"Duke, it's fine real. I always have been one of the odd ones out." Duke had definitely not been fine with it when Danny had played it off, especially when he offhandedly mentioned that he got bullied before. Well at least Danny was enjoying his time with Duke, plus Danny was a genius, especially in all the science and engineering subjects. If their idiot group mates wanted to pass up on an A+ with extra credits then it was solely their fault for being judgmental.

Duke had gotten to the point that Danny had even agreed to come with him to the Manor to hang out once, all he now needed to do was clear it with Bruce and make sure that his noisy siblings weren't going to freak Danny out.

He was just about to call Bruce up to see if it was fine when the doors of the library were kicked in by people dressed completely in white carrying deceives that looked like scanners. He was just about to comment to Danny what weird people they seemed to be when he noticed Danny had pulled up the hood of his jacket over his head and for the lack of better words looked frightened.

Duke had only locked once between Danny, and these weird guys before deciding what he needed to do. He shot a quick look towards Babs who was working the library counter and looked about ready to have them kicked out. Duke signaled her, while also shooting off a message into the group chat with the others.

"Danny." His newly made friend had his back turned to the door and looked like he was trying to find an escape route. Duke frowned at the way Danny flinched when he placed a hand on the other's shoulder. Whoever these guys were, Danny was afraid of them or had some sort of trauma and Duke would bet his entire comic collection on the fact that it has something to do with Danny being a Meta. "It's okay, trust me. They won't get you."

"What?" Glowing green eyes peeked at him from under Danny's hood, he clearly remembers them to be blue.

"They won't get you. I promise." Duke repeated, ignoring the color change for now. By now Barbara was trying to get these people out of her library but these people continued to yell something about ecto-entities and those some papers at her. They were advancing into the building and Duke could see that Danny's flight reflex was going to break out soon.

Duke made a brief eye contact with Barbara. She nodded.

"Come with me, hurry." Was the only warning he gave Danny before he grabbed the other's hand and dragged him to the back of the building, towards the hidden doors.

"What are you doing?!" Danny sounded so confused and Duke looked over his shoulder hoping he was giving the other a reassuring smile.

"Helping you!"

"But I am not-"

"These guys are after you right? Let's get away from them first and then talk!" Duke cut him off pushing Danny through a hidden way into an underground path.

"You don't even know me and-"

"I don't need to know you, to see when someone needs help."

He could see that Danny clearly wanted to say something, there was still fear in these still glowing green eyes and Duke wondered once more what these people must have done to Danny for the other Meta to be scared like this. Danny needed to know that they wouldn't get to him as long as Duke and his family were around. He was going to be protected and be able to live normally without fear of these people showing up to hunt him for his powers.

"Meta's gotta stick together. Don't worry I will make sure you're safe!" This wasn't how he had hoped to open up this topic with Danny. He had wanted Danny to bring it up naturally once they had gotten to be really good friends. So that Duke could let him know he wasn't alone.

[bellzsad]

the newtmas angst in the maze runner movies is crazy because wdym a brunet meets a blond in a secluded place? wdym they become close? wdym they're not each other's love interests? wdym there's a girl? wdym they have deep convos? wdym the blond comforts the brunet when he feels insecure about his role? wdym the blond has to watch the brunet still yearn for a girl who was a betrayer? wdym the blond one gets a deadly virus? wdym the brunet has to watch the blond slowly deteriorate? wdym the blond won't let the brunet take care of it to save their other friend in selflessness? wdym the brunet has to carry, or more like practically drag the blond to a train station while fires burn in the background? wdym the blond tries to stab the brunet? wdym the blond's body goes limp through an embrace? wdym the brunet lets go and sees that the blond stabbed himself? wdym he then found a heartfelt letter a few days later from the blond? WDYM THERE WAS A SPECIAL NICKNAME?

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So Danny and Ellie are in a predicament.

Ellie has been freshly deaged to a 18 month year old. Sam, Tucker and Jazz are dead and gone.

Danny who is 23 ish is running from the GIW and Fentons ends up in Gotham when he gets caught

Last minute he shoves Ellie into an alley and leaves a note if to someone finds her

And he’s gone, taken.

Damian is now 23 and Batman. Bruce and Alfred have passed away (Bruce’s heart couldn’t take years of being Batman and Alfred got too old)

Everyone else… to put it lightly… aren’t on speaking terms.

Dick is in Bludhaven, Cass is in Kong, Jason is with his outlaws, Tim alternates between the Titans and WE (but doesn’t talk to Damian outside of the company). Duke and Steph are in collage.

Damian is alone.

Back to Ellie. Damian is on patrol and finds a crying baby in an alley at 1 am.

At first, he’s angry. What kind of parent leaves their child like that?

Then he finds the note

He takes Ellie in and raises her alone in the manor while being Batman and trying to find her dad.

Leslie- who’s now retired- helps in babysitting Ellie when he’s busy with being Batman or WE but hes always there to tuck her in every night.

Eventually, Duke- tired of the family’s pride and stubbornness ruining their family- comes home for Christmas break (around 6 months after Damian found Ellie)

He arrives while Batman is on patrol, hoping to surprise him and instead has his shit rocked by a 2 year old with Lazarus green eyes the moment he walked in the Batcave.

Damian arrives and explains everything.

Duke switches to online collage and resumes living in the manor.

Signal is back on the streets and Ellie gets an uncle.

Tim is the next person who catches on.

He realizes Batman’s patrol routes are shorter (Damian didn’t want to leave Ellie alone at night) and Batman sometimes abandons patrol in the middle to leave (Ellie was crying and Leslie couldn’t calm her down)

And so Tim pays him a visit and he sees Damian napping with a two year old on the couch and is like :0

So, instead of doing the Logical thing and waking him up he leaves and calls the rest of the family.

While Duke laughs in his face, the others plan to all appear next week at the manor and interrogate Damian as to why he adopted a kid.

Coincidentally, that night The GIW have cracked down as to where the ghost baby is and they break into Wayne Manor while Damian is on patrol.

He doesn’t get back in time.

Everyone else arrives a week later to find Damian in the batcave, looking like he was close to a passing out from exhaustion.

Duke returns from patrol and explains the situation and everyone bands together to help Damian find his daughter

They didn’t find her, but they find Danny.

After busting him out and telling Danny that Damian was the one who took care of Ellie for months

He eventually heals his wounds in the safety of Wayne Manor.

However, because Damian was the one to raise Ellie for months and the other not only ignored his calls but didn’t even stop by to check up on him he doesn’t trust the others as much.

So Damian ends up caring for him.

And over the course of the three months it took for them to locate Ellie, they begin to fall in love.

Cue the rescue mission the moment they find Ellie.

Damian and Danny eventually get together and GIW gets dismantled. Everything is fine and dandy…right?

[hairscare]

lets be mentally ill actors together

[tommyshelbysgoodgirl]

I’m obsessed with reading Thomas Shelby step father x step daughter fanfics that shi is so fucking hot and I need more there’s not enough😩‼️

[perpetuallyconfused10]

Im the one who asked about requests lol, I just have this Hotch thought and I can't stop thinking about it 🫂😭

Imagine Garcia "screaming" about a video, telling the whole team about it (except Hotch and Reader), and that video is on tiktok. When they spill something about the video, Hotch and Reader ask which video they're referring to, not knowing it's from a tiktok account where the person makes videos on Hotch x Reader (like edits taken from some interview where they look at each other, slightly touches and things like that) and it's a whole profile with a lot of videos like that! So the whole team teases them and they obviously like eachother!!

Feel free to change anything!!

Gone Viral, Gone Wrong

Thank you to this anon for submitting my first request! I might have written it (and especially Hotch) be a little (way) too sappy, but I love your idea so much and I hope I did it some type of justice! WC: 3.3K

GIF by ssa-aaron-hotch-hotchner

There must be something on your face. Toothpaste, maybe, or coffee on your shirt, or a tear in your trousers. Something to explain the numerous pairs of eyes following you as you dash for the elevator, just as you always do. 

This morning’s been one for the books. Between a text from your highschool ex-boyfriend, congratulating you on your ‘newfound fame’ — whatever he means by that, you don’t know — and the incomprehensibly slurred voicemails you woke up to from your sister, you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself.

You tell yourself you’re probably imagining it. But Anderson doesn’t say a word to you as you both make your way to the BAU, just casts you sidelong glances between the rapid texts he’s sending. You hope to God it’s not you, that he's just having an awful morning, then scold yourself for it. If you’re not off to a good start, at least somebody should be.

It’s the silence in the bullpen that confirms your suspicions. Emily, JJ, and Garcia sit huddled around Emily’s computer, squeezed onto two chairs they’ve pulled together. Morgan leans over them to look at the screen. He’s in the middle of laughing at something Garcia’s said when you walk in. 

You don’t even need Reid’s not-so-subtle hiss of “Guys–” to know you’re not going crazy. The smirks that drop from their faces, the giggles that extinguish themselves as you enter through the double doors, are more than enough. 

Four profilers and a technical analyst, as it turns out, can be rather terrifying when the force of their stares are directed at you. 

A sheepish grin tugs at your lips as you hold up your peace offering: a tray of coffee. “Hi?”

You’ve come to know how the team works. You know exactly how they react when ambushed, how they spring to action like a well-oiled machine.

There’s something a little mechanical to them now, bared in their responses to your arrival. After giving you one of his usual tight-lipped smiles, Reid flips open a random file on his desk and begins to read. JJ grabs the computer mouse, clicks a few times, and turns away from the monitor to greet you. Morgan clocks the drinks in your hands and conjures a grin just a little wider than normal. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says as he plucks the tray from your hands, thanking you with a squeeze to your forearm. 

Garcia, eyeing the gesture, nearly chokes on the end of the pen she’s chewing. She stands to usher you over to your desk, her chirpy voice a balm attempting to smooth over what has been a very odd start to your working day. 

“What were you guys looking at?” You ask her, eyebrows raised. If anyone’s going to tell you what’s going on, Penelope is, without a doubt, most likely to spill.

You’re disappointed – and even more confused – when she stands her ground. Through her ramble, you just about make out the words “cat” and “spa” before she’s kissing your cheek and speeding away to your lair. 

You sigh as you switch on your own computer. One thing is clear. The team doesn’t like to be ambushed. And, somehow, that is exactly what you have done. 

—

After finishing off one of your consults, you suffer through a morning briefing that ends up being far more complicated than it needs to be. It’s only a paperwork day, by the looks of things. In theory, this is the ‘easiest’ your job gets; if you’re not called out on an emergency, you can bank on a day of case reports and shitty coffee. 

Nothing is ever easy at the BAU, not even now. Everything is out of order. There’s none of the usual idle chatter that precedes a briefing, just a fragile silence. Rossi moves from his normal position to take your place between Reid and JJ. He mutters something about the chair being uncomfortable and shoos you away from your seat. Though you can’t resist the opportunity to call him an old man for his pedantics, you acquiesce and take his spot instead. You find nothing wrong with it. 

Then Hotch walks in to start the briefing, and you find about a hundred reasons to curse David Rossi. He’s wearing the gray suit, again, the one he likes pairing with his red tie. That should be a crime in itself. When he takes the only seat available — his usual seat, the one now next to you — you’re almost sure you hear JJ snort. Emily pats her on the back as she conceals it with a very unconvincing cough.

Hotch frowns in your direction, probably mulling over the change in seating plan, then turns his attention to JJ. “Are you alright?”

The blonde clears her throat. “Fine. Thanks, Hotch,” she says. 

Garcia rests her elbows on the table, her mouth concealed by the palm of her hand. 

Hotch nods, casting another short glance your way. “Good.”

Then he launches into the briefing, and you can almost convince yourself things are perfectly normal, that your face isn’t alight with heat and you’re not avoiding looking at him, that everything is fine. When you’re dismissed, you scurry towards the door fast enough you almost miss it. 

“Garcia?” His voice is quiet, his tone soft with something disapproving hiding beneath it. “My office, please.”

Everything is decidedly not fine. 

—

By noon, you can’t take it anymore. “Emily Prentiss, what the fuck are you doing?”

The question comes out louder and more harshly than you’d intended. In your peripheral vision, you see Reid’s eyes widen at the desk next to yours. Emily, halfway through a sandwich, freezes. 

“I’m sorry?”

The grin fades from her face. 

You huff. “You’ve been looking between me and your computer for the last half-hour. What is it? Is there something on my face?” Morgan laughs from the other side of the bullpen, and you raise your voice a little in desperation. “Seriously. Have I done something wrong?”

JJ must have heard the commotion, because she pokes her head out of her office door. She takes one look at you and sighs. “Probably best to get it over with, Em.”

When Emily hesitates, your eyes narrow. “Get what over with?”

She stands and beckons you over to her desk, firing up her computer screen as you settle into her chair. JJ comes down the stairs to join you. Though they don’t move, you can practically feel Morgan and Reid staring at the three of you from across the room. 

What you see projected on Emily’s screen doesn’t make things any clearer.

“That’s—” you pause, dumbfounded. “Why are you looking at me and Hotch?”

The picture is easy to place. It must have been taken a few days ago, during a small-town case. Hotch had asked you to deliver a profile to the media when JJ was working on something else. It was far from the first time you’d faced the press head-on during your time at the Bureau, but Hotch had stood by your side anyway. 

You’re not sure why she’s chosen this photo, if any, to look at. The wind’s blowing your hair into your face, and you’re midway through changing expressions so it almost looks like you’re in pain. 

“Just watch,” Emily says. She presses the spacebar and the picture bursts into action.

—

“—If you believe you have any information that may relate to this case, we’d appreciate you calling the following number…” you say. You proceed to rattle off the number for the tip line JJ’s set up, but only get halfway through before everything derails. 

“How do we know this isn’t all just bullshit?” 

The voice overpowering yours is weathered, and so is the man who pushes through the crowd of journalists to get close to you and Hotch, whose posture you see straighten in an instant. You watch as the reporters from the city turn to look at the interloper, pens out and waiting, no doubt, for either you or your boss to slip up.

For a long moment, Hotch watches the man, his face twisted in irritation. He merely restates the tip line number and your request for any potential witnesses to come forward.

But the skeptic doesn’t let up. “This guy’s an outsider. Not one of us. Everyone here knows each other, they have done for years—”

“We’re not trying to cause a panic,” you say, your tone even, “We don’t want you all to turn on each other. But the man we’re looking for knows this town. He’s confident finding his way around the forest, even the areas that haven’t been mapped out yet. He knows the shortcuts, which roads are quiet and which are too risky to take. We’re asking you to exercise caution, and to report anything suspicious if you see it.”

“So what? A few pins on a map and you’re convinced it’s one of us?”

Hotch’s jaw tightens. This case has been harder on him than most, and you can sense that he’s on the verge of responding in a way he’ll regret later. You put a hand on his forearm as he raises it to retort, squeezing it gently in the hopes he’ll get the signal you really don’t have the seniority to be sending him: stand down. He takes a deep breath, and you let your hand slide down to meet his wrist, guiding it just a fraction backwards to rest by his side. The contact lasts only a second, maybe two, before you let him be. 

When he finally speaks, his voice is measured, his eyes slow to drag themselves from your face. “We’re not here to defend the science behind criminal profiling. Our priorities remain finding the person responsible for these crimes and the safety of this community until we do. If you have any information at all, please don’t hesitate to contact us. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Even the most amateur journalist would know he’s done answering questions. Hotch gives a brief nod, turns and leads you out of the Georgia heat and back into shelter of the precinct. All the time, his hand hovers over your back, his gaze searching for any potential disruptions. 

Then there’s his voice, deep and almost inaudible. You feel his breath brush your earlobe. “Thank you.”

—

Oh. 

Now you’re looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, you do look a little…cozy with Hotch. Not enough to walk the line of unprofessionalism, but enough for you to notice it. 

Emily folds her arms, leans back in her chair. “What’s that about?”

Avoiding her eyes, you shrug. “What’s what about?”

“The canoodling,” JJ says with a smirk, and you slap her arm. 

You’re a profiler. You should know your little attempt at denial isn’t going to work, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. “Canoodling? Seriously, Jen? I don’t think anyone under the age of eighty has ever said the word ‘canoodling’.”

You hear Penelope’s kitten heels clacking against the floorboards before you see her. “Doesn’t mean you’re not doing it,” she sings. Her arms wrap around your shoulders from behind.

You groan. “Penny, you know I love you, but what are you doing here?”

“I got lonely,” she says, and her expression is so genuine that you can’t even bring yourself to be upset with her. “Just wait…”

Leaning over you to press the escape button, she exits out of full screen mode and points to the corner of the screen. When you read the number she’s showing you, your breakfast threatens to make a reappearance.

“Would you look at that?” Emily laughs. “It’s gone up.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times. And once more, for good measure. “Six-hundred-and-fifty thousand people have seen that?”

It all starts to make sense. The texts, the calls, the stares, the team’s behavior…you don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. On the bright side, you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing that could get you fired. But more than half a million people have seen you practically mooning over your boss.

Emily makes a noncommittal noise. “Half of them were probably Garcia. And a good twenty-five or so were us, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” You resist the urge to slam your head against the desk. You’ll have to settle for burying it in your hands instead. “Six hundred and…fuck. And they all think–?”

“—That you’re in love with our boss? And that he’s in love with you? Yes.”

“Oh, fuck.” “They think that, too,” says JJ, sounding sympathetic. If it weren’t for the frankly dastardly smile on her face, you’d think she was on your side.

Picturing the general population witnessing you make an idiot of yourself is bad enough. How do you even conceptualize that many people? How many stadiums could you fill solely with people who have seen you head over heels for your boss? Even worse is the thought of Anderson, or your parents, or – God forbid – even Strauss having seen it. You’ll be suspended. Fired. Or, even worse, be called into a mediated meeting with Hotch and HR, where they’ll ask him if you’ve been making him feel uncomfortable. 

Emily’s voice pulls you from your shame spiral. “And there’s more, too.”

This world hates you. You’re certain of that as she opens Twitter, putting “FBI agents” into the search bar and bombarding you with hundreds, maybe thousands, of tweets with your image attached. Some are disturbingly sweet. Others poke fun at how obvious you are, and even more disturbingly, seem to think your feelings are reciprocated. That’s not a mental path you can allow yourself to go down. 

“So…” You say after a long ten minutes. “What do we do?”

Footsteps, then Rossi appears at the stop of the stairs. “You go back to work. Your break’s over.”

He’s lucky you’re so fond of him. Had it been anyone else (save maybe one person) to disrupt your shame spiral, you’d have been furious. More than furious. You’re still a little irritated now.

There was nothing wrong with his fucking chair. 

—

Your mission is simple. Avoid. Deny. Deflect. The rest of your afternoon drags along in a blur of paperwork and teasing comments you choose to ignore (mostly courtesy of Morgan — JJ and Emily have decided you’re nearing your breaking point and vow to leave you alone). 

Five o’clock can’t come soon enough. Even when it does, there’s no reprieve. Reid turns out to be the one to betray you as everyone else packs up to leave, their files in his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers. To his credit, he looks like he means it.

“Judas,” you hiss back, but you stand and take the reports from him anyway. 

Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. “Going somewhere special?” 

You flip him off, muttering something under your breath that sounds just a little like “your funeral”. 

The stairs to Hotch’s office feel much longer and much steeper than usual. At every step you reconsider. Reid’s probably still heading for the elevator now. If you catch him, you can guilt him into doing this instead. But your thoughts carry you close enough for Hotch to spot your approach through the blinds. He rises from his desk, opening the door before you can even reach for the handle. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes. “Hi.”

Stepping aside to let you inside, he says your name, and it sounds so warm coming from his mouth. You wonder if he knows about your newfound fame, too. He seems to be focusing his stare directly between your eyebrows. 

“I just came to drop these off.” 

As if your words aren’t explanation enough, you hold up the files for him to see.

“Thank you.” Hotch reaches out to take them, and you feel his fingers brush yours as he does. He stops before the exchange is over. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

It won’t be long now before the sun sets. It’s making its final play for glory now, golden light filtering through the window and settling over Hotch’s face. Hints of amber tones surface in his eyes, usually so dark and unreadable, making him appear much softer than usual. Safer.

You sigh. “I think some people got a little more out of that press release in Georgia than we intended them to.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You know about that?”

You wouldn’t half mind if a wormhole opened up, right there in his office, and transported you to another universe where you don’t even have to think about this moment ever again.

“I do.” He winces. “Garcia’s computer system is the most secure in the FBI, but she doesn’t have an inside voice.”

The dry comment shocks a laugh out of you. “No, she doesn’t. But…it’ll die down, right? No one is actually going to believe that. Us being together would be—”

“Unprofessional,” Hotch supplies after a beat. “Very unprofessional.”

He reaches backwards to put the files you’ve given him on his desk, somehow managing to do so without actually taking a step away from you. If anything, he gets a little closer. 

“Exactly. Strauss would kill us if we even thought about it,” you say, “Not that we would, I’m just…”

Now he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. You swear his pupils are dilated, that he slips for just a half-second and lets his attention drift down to your lips. “There’d be a lot of paperwork.”

You nod. “Too much, really. You’ve got enough already. It’d also be…”

“…Nice.”

Hotch stops breathing, lips downturned in a frown. You’re sure you’ve heard him wrong. But half a minute passes, and he doesn’t retract his statement, though he looks as if he’s close to doing so.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He’s close enough you catch a hint of his cologne, and the woody scent of it makes your head spin. 

“I can say it again,” he says through a long exhale, searching your face for any sign of discomfort as he takes another step closer. His breath ghosts your neck. “Or we can forget this ever happened.”

Your answer is almost immediate. “Let’s not do that.”

Hotch tilts your chin up so you’re forced to look at him. You lean upwards to meet him halfway in a kiss that is soft and tentative, the sort that promises everything and asks for nothing in return. One of your hands cups his jaw, and both of his find their way home to your waist, rubbing circles into your skin through your shirt. You smile against his lips. He leans forward as if to chase yours when you pull away.  It hits you, now, that this is really happening. The months you've been agonizing over this - whether to make a move or to shut the part of you that cares for him away - have led you here. There's much you've got to think over: what this means for both of your careers, the risk to the team's dynamic, whether it'll even work in the long run, if Hotch wants that too. You know he's thinking the same thing; his face adopts the same mask of concentration it always does when he's considering something. You take a deep breath. It might be hard, but does that stop it from being worth a shot? In the end, you don't think it does.

“I think I’m gonna order takeout tonight,” you say quietly. “There’s a really good Thai place down the street from me.”

Hotch clears his throat. “That sounds nice.”

Shaking your head, you rest both hands on his shoulders, laugh at him. “That was my way of asking you if you wanted to join me.”

“Oh.” 

His brow furrows. For a terrible moment, you think he’s about to say no. And then, “Haley has Jack tonight. I…I’d like that.”

You beam, pull back, and head towards his desk to find a pen and a scrap bit of paper. “Here’s my address.” A quick glance down into the bullpen, which is thankfully empty. “Give it ten minutes, then follow me?”

“Okay,” Hotch says. Even you can tell he’s grinning like an idiot, and you make a note of the rare expression. “Okay. I’ll see you soon?”

Squeezing his hand, you kiss his cheek and walk towards the door. “Soon.”

You feel his eyes on you until you reach the elevator.

If you got this far, thank you for reading! I've watched a lot more Dharma and Greg than CM, lately, so I have a feeling that my version of soft!Hotch is currently just a grownup version of Greg Montmgomery????