#along with everyone else because i suck

[ratcandy]

my classmates will go thru 6 hours of class the day after a long excursion through the countryside and then just get up and go run around in town for hours going to movies and shopping and whatever and I'm just sitting here like Aren't you all exhausted . Aren't you all sore and pained. Where are you getting this energy. Can we calm down

[good-beanswrites]

Hello hello! It's me again! (That one Anon who requested Lies with Kazui & Yuno, but I've set up my account now so no need to ask anonymously again lol) Thank you for satisfying my previous request, it was such a delight to read. I keep rereading it every now and then and I'm still always left in awe with it like jesus christ you didn't have to go all in on that im sobbing with the 0207 friendship dynamic.

I've also seen your latest post and drabble asks. I'd like to request from the Drabble List#1 - #5 “Idiots. They are all idiots.” with Es themselves!

Let the prisoners have fun and Es just stares at them nonchalantly, silently judging their idiocy from afar, hell, maybe even let Yuno/Mikoto convince them to join. You can do anything as long as you think it'll fit, they're all just a little silly (minus the fact they're in prison lol).

With all that said, take your time and no rush! I can always wait. Thanks a lot! ...now back to rereading my previous request for the nth time,, i love it so much,, thankyouagain

Ah thank you so much, that means so much!! I'm so glad you liked it, that one was really nice to write :'D And yesss thank you for the request -- this was such a blast to do as well! (though I also made myself emotional over Es' lost childhood, that was less fun ;___;) I debated on several activities within the prison but thought this was plausible and fun for some mid-T1 shenanigans

Es had a job to do. They had many eyes watching them. They had several lives in their hands. They had heavy responsibilities. They didn’t have time for something as silly as ‘video game night’, regardless of the laughter that bubbled up from the common room as they passed by. They were not way tempted to join, regardless of how much fun the group seemed to be having when they peered their head in.

Fuuta had whined that Es had replaced all his requests with completely outdated consoles and games, confirming they had been successful in choosing things without any access to the internet or outside world. Plus, they thought, this gave the older prisoners a fighting chance with some of the games.

Not that they cared whether or not the prisoners had a good time. That wasn’t any concern of theirs. Even in these long periods of rest between their more eventful duties, they must remain focused.

The laughter crescendoed into delighted screaming.

Es figured one more look inside wouldn’t hurt. They were supposed to be keeping an eye on everyone, after all. 

The prisoners had gathered various chairs and bedding material, creating makeshift couches. Some piled onto the new seating, some splayed out on the ground, others stood in excitement. The television was so small, the two players needed to lean all the way forward to see. 

Mahiru bounced in her seat as Yuno whipped around her remote. Fuuta was demanding Kazui play better, gesturing wildly at the screen. Shidou chucked to himself as the others grew more intense. Haruka kept asking questions about the game, receiving an answer only about half the time. 

As the match got closer, Yuno leapt to her feet. She tried to shimmy in front of Kazui and block his view. He stood to prod her out of the way. Muu called foul play, though she said it with a thrill rather than accusation. Fuuta repeated it -- with quite a lot of accusation -- and tried to push Yuno out of the way. Mikoto tried to hold him back, voicing his support of Yuno’s methods. 

The others got caught up in the yelling. Amane’s eyes were wide in anticipation. Kotoko pumped her fist as the battle got even closer. The room erupted in movement and shoving and tripping and remote pulling -- until they yanked the tiny television forward. 

The thick cord came free, and the screen went black just before a winner was announced. Ten voices chorused their outrage.

Es shook their head. “Idiots. They are all idiots.”

They turned away as the prisoners hurried to set everything up again. They were just about to turn the corner into the panopticon when Yuno’s voice called from behind.

“Hey!” She ran up, taking advantage of their brief pause. “I saw you passing by. Why don’t you come join us?”

Not for the first time, Es wished they had enough height to look down on all the prisoners. “I’m your warden. I’m not some child here to play games with you all.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m not a kid either. But I’m still down for a night to unwind.”

“You’re lucky to have the luxury to relax. I, on the other hand, am busy right now.”  

Yuno made a show of looking left, then right, across the empty hallway. “And what exactly are you doing right now?”

“I’m working.”

She frowned. “Uh-huh…”

“I am!” They fumbled for more, coming up blank. They should have known the moment she came skipping over to them that it would be impossible to fool her. There was no need for this routine check of the prison; everyone was gathered in the common room except them. Yuno had known this before uttering a single word.

Her hands fluttered in a dismissive gesture. “Too much work is never good for you. It doesn’t matter how mature you are -- if you get too caught up in your job it’ll drive you to some crazy things.” She smirked. “Just look at Shidou. Or Mikoto!”

“I could look at you…”

Though surprise flickered across her face, she kept grinning. “Exactly! So let’s get you in here.” She tugged on their arm. Prisoners couldn’t physically move Es against their will. 

They huffed as they found themselves inching closer and closer to the entryway.

“I suppose I can come and watch,” they muttered, “and still keep an eye on you all.”

“No! No more working!” She managed to get them into the room. “Here, you can take my spot in the next round.”

Kazui looked over. “Who said you were getting the next spot?”

“Oh come on, I was clearly going to win that one.”

“Clearly? I'm pretty sure was seconds away from beating you.”

“Well then, I guess Es can take your spot.”

“Es is playing?” Haruka looked up excitedly. 

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

It was as if they hadn’t said anything at all. The others launched into a discussion of who would give their remote to Es? Who would they’d face off against? Were they resetting the bracket they’d begun? Which game would they return to? The ten argued in circles for a while. For a group of murderers, they were insistent on a fair tournament. After breaking up some bickering that could have become physical, Es once again wondered how they ended up watching over a mess like this. 

At length the game was chosen, and a rematch was slated for Yuno and Kazui later in the night. To save themself time and sanity, Es went ahead and picked their opponent.

“I’ll play Fuuta.” 

He had been the obvious choice: he could supply enough chatter for the both of them, so Es could remain silent. Also, he was guaranteed to win and free them from an obligation to play more than one round. They flashed a look at some of the more observant prisoners, hoping they didn’t tip them off.

However, no one was really watching them too keenly. Mahiru clapped in joy. Yuno beamed. Mikoto shoved a remote into their hands. Haruka started rapidly explaining the rules to them. Shidou directed Es to their seat in the center. Kotoko gave them an encouraging nod. As expected, Fuuta was already deep into trash talk as he sat next to them.

They really were simple-minded people, more focused on this silly game than the fact their warden had just sat amongst them. It was dangerous to let one’s guard down in a place like this, Es reminded themself. 

With a little jingle, the match began. 

Their fingers flew across the controls. Though they had a rocky start, some sort of muscle memory kicked in. Surely this game had come out before they were born, and there was no way they’d played it regularly. None of that mattered much. Their little avatar was obviously gaining the lead.

Their eyes stayed fixed on the screen as they received slaps on the back and nudges. Their guard's cap was knocked off in the shuffling, but they couldn't risk picking it up. Voices called all around them.

“Aw, don’t just let the kid win!” Mikoto said.

“I’m not!” Fuuta was desperate. “They fucking tricked me! They’re a pro!”

Es felt energy run through their entire body. Their original plan already slipping away, they wondered if they could actually beat Fuuta. It would be fun to see… They leaned forward, holding their breath. The audience continued cheering the pair on. Once again, the room was swept up in shouts.

The match ended. A little banner flashed across the screen to name Es victorious. They jumped up, a small whoop escaping them. 

They would’ve melted in shame right then and there, if the sound weren’t already drowned out by the surrounding chaos. The others laughed and shook Es in amazement. Fuuta let out a string of colorful language.

“That was incredible!”

“Holy shit!”

“How’d you do that?”

Es placed the cap back on their head, pulling it over their eyes. “I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter. I’m done for the night.” They tried to pass off the remote, but Mikoto pushed it back into their hands. 

“Nuh-uh. I want to see this for myself.” He grabbed the other one from a dejected Fuuta. “Same game. Same characters. Lemme see what you’ve got.”

Es wasn’t meant to play one round, much less get caught up in their ridiculous tournament.

Don’t be an idiot, they told themself.

“Bring it on,” they told Mikoto.

[whysamwhy123]

.

[neverendingford]

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[tariah23]

I forgot to mention but one of the mods for the jjk zine said that I could draw all of the other Sukuna’s as well 😭… not just as merch tho. I could also draw some sketches for the sketch page section too…

[ghoul-haunted]

eugh

[caluski]

Yeah I'm fucking sick and tired of being used as a personal venting dump. Literally ignoring me for fucking weeks and then running back to me the second her friends ditch her. And I'm angry and heartbroken at the same time because she was always like this - but back in the past, whenever she'd throw me away for new, richer, more popular people, i assumed she just wanted to have a wider circle of friends, so I didn't feel jealous. Wish it didn't take me so long to realize I was only significant for her because she literally didn't have anyone else. Lmao

[amtrak12]

omg navigating getting my prescriptions filled through CVS is the absolute WORST for my undiagnosed ass.

[average-gay-walrus]

I know I've only been here like, four days

but I really like college :)

[imjustexistingtbh]

grrrrrrrr family is coming over >:(

[windupaidoneus]

now some people may not like to hear it but even the worst people who exist are still people & there is no human being who has More right than others to decide whether others deserve to live or die (does not mean i personally condemn murder in self defense or anything of the sort or killing fascists or whatever i'm just saying as a baseline This Is How it Is) & this is why the death penalty is not a good thing no matter how good & trustworthy the people in any government might be. people on average also deserve the chance to learn to do better. & no, someone who's been forcefed propaganda their entire life will not let go of that deeply entrenched mindset so easily, it's not particularly unrealistic & it absolutely sucks to deal with but in the context of tangibly working toward world peace it's also not an issue to try & help such people both in material ways & in helping them learn better rather than cut them down or abandon them to a grim fate. all this to say that's why i don't think garlemald is written badly, as unpleasant as the experience might be. walks off the stage

[her-favorite]

┌── •chris✧sturniolo• ──┐

his pace was ruthless, a newfound urgency in his thrusts.

the fabric of your shirt rustled against his sheets, his own brand shown on the front. something about the way you looked in it - fuck, it was driving chris crazy.

your body jolted on his bed, sounds emitting from your lips at every movement. the explicit sound of his hips smacking against yours filling his bedroom, telling anyone that were to come by his door what was going on between you two.

your nails rake down his pale back, eliciting harsh red marks on the skin. chris hisses, but it only seems to spur him on. his thrusts hit you deep, your eyes rolling back as pants leave your lips and occasional grunts leave his.

“fuck - y’look so good in my clothes, baby.” chris groans, breathing short and fast, so focused on fucking you with a purpose. his head moves down to your neck, grazing the tip of his nose along the skin, tickling it. before you could even process his actions - too fucked dumb to understand what else was going on - his lips part and press wet, hot kisses. a whine sounds from your throat as he sinks his teeth in, marking you with an ident of his teeth.

“my girl - shit!” chris moans, mouth open as he pants. he lifts his head up as he watches you, blue eyes trained on your pleasure filled expression. “my girl, my girl, my girl,” he repeats like a prayer as he feels the inevitable knot in his lower stomach. “you.. you take me so fuckin’ well, ma.” chris praises, a guttural groan leaving as you clench around him. “squeezin’ me so tight.”

one of his hands bunches up the bottom of your shirt, humming at the sight of the bold ‘FRESH LOVE’ text on it. It was like you were showcasing you were his by wearing this - his brand. not only that, but the marks on your body, that you let him - beg him - to give you only heightens his possessiveness. chris loves the way you’re so freely his, to show everyone that he’s your boyfriend, he’s the one that gets to see you like this - that gets to do you like this.

“want you to - to cum for me, mama.” chris pants, licking his lips as he watches you. by your reaction, he could tell you were close. he’s grown so accustomed to you and your body, he could read you like the back of his hand. he loved it.

“c’mon,” he exhales, the bed squeaking beneath you both as he pounds into you. “make a mess on my dick.” yes, sir.

your legs shake as you reach your high, moans of his name freely falling from your lips. chris gets off on it, the way your face scrunches up, the way his name sounds on your lips and the way your pussy eagerly sucks in his dick - he was done for.

chris groans as he cums, lips parted as he pants. he collapses on top of you, the both of your trying to catch your breath as your hand instinctively reaches up to rest on the back of his head.

“love when you wear my shit, ma.”

└── •✧• ──┘

requested!

my first chris blurb omg :)) probs my last blurb for a bit just because i wanna try and get some actual fics done!!

@mattybsgroupie <3

《✧》

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[flvredcas]

best friends dad

(𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟖+)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫!𝟐𝟓, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞!𝟑𝟗), 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞. (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞)

(𝖺/𝗇: 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 "𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍" 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝟤 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝖻𝖺𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗆 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾, 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇!! 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒.)

❣︎ ❣︎ ❣︎

“rafe, what if we get caught” you try to say in between the sloppy make-out session, as rafe pushes you into a dark room. your stomach instantly fills with butterflies at the thought of someone walking in or walking by and hearing the things rafe is about to do to you.

“just stay quiet for me, baby,” rafe says, while his hand runs through your hair, pulling at it slightly.

his hard-on pressing into you, pulling you out of your worried thoughts. he grabs the back of your thighs, lifting, and setting you down onto a table in the corner of the room.

slipping in between your thighs, he almost instantly starts grinding, making you wetter. “hurry, please.” you, wrap your arms around him, grinding your hips deeper into him trying to create some friction.

“fuck, you feel so good” he groans, resting his head on your shoulder making your hips move faster with the help of his hands. “better than your wife?” you smirk, knowing his wife is just downstairs “shut up.” he pulls you off the table, turning you around in one swift moment.

he pulls at your small shorts letting them fall along with your underwear. you press your back against him, head falling on his shoulder, as his hand trails down, slipping into your wet folds, rubbing slowly. and the other pressing into your belly pushing you deeper into his back.

“be a good girl, and stay quiet, yeah?” he whispers, breathing lowly into your ear sending shivers down your spine. his fingers push into you slowly, pumping into the wetness you've had all day since he walked into the gathering party that was held for god knows who.

“stop teasing and fuck me.” you hiss, needing more than his fingers. “so needy, huh?” he starts kissing your neck, sucking lightly, not enough to leave bruises.

he slips his hand under your shirt, cupping your breast, messaging it softly. “no bra?” he says, and you can almost feel his smirk.

“how do you want it, baby?” his voice sounding more lustful than when you first started.

“Anway. just as long as you’re in me” you say almost moaning, hearing your wetness with every thrust of his fingers. “Please rafe, fuck me.”

you were willing to beg to get him to fuck you. he's been eye fucking you, and sending dirty messages all day.

he spreads your legs, as you hear his pants fall onto the ground with a loud *clink* from his belt. “if i hear one sound come out that pretty mouth I'm stopping, got that?” he warns, holding your hips steady against him as he aligns himself with you.

you nod fast preparing yourself to try and stay quiet. “use your words.” he says sounding impatient. “yes, i promise to be quiet.” you nod repeatedly again.

that was all he needed to hear. his hips snapping into you, thrusting slowly, fingers digging into your sides. you bite your lip holding back your moans, while your hips match rafes pace perfectly.

“what would your wife think of this?” you tease. you always hated her, not because of rafe but because she was just a bitch who thought she was above everyone else. “don’t bring up my fucking wife while im fucking you” he growls, thrusting into you faster taking all the words right out of your mouth.

you feel him brush against your g spot making your eyes roll back and your mouth hang low. “so fucking perfect and wet” he praises, pushing into your belly, feeling himself.

“you feel how deep i am baby?”… “you feel how good i make you feel?” he groans forcing you to choke out words.

“i..i” … “fuck” you moan not able to answer him. he just smirks knowing the control he has over you.

you start to tighten and pulse around him holding onto the table for balance. you were always used to a quick fuck with rafe. this all started a year ago when you both were drunk at midsummer and he took you to his boat and fucked you.

“where do you want me to cum, baby?” rafe asks, as you both start to feel the fiery feeling in the pit of your stomach, ready for release.

“in me.” you manage to moan out, arching your back and feeling your release come closer. “fuck.” rafe moans throwing his head back and thrusting faster. “we need to stop doing this.” he refers to the no condom usage. “but it feels.. too good not to.”

“cum f’me, baby.” he says holding his groan, placing his hand on your clit, rubbing just enough for you to cum.

“oh, fuck rafe.” you cry out quietly trying to keep your moans low. “i told you to be quiet didn't i?” he brings a hand up to your mouth, as you both cum.

the tightening of your pussy clenching around him sends him into the most pleasurable state he's ever been in. as for you, you were a moaning mess against his hand that was muffling your sounds, only making him drive into you faster, sending you over the edge from your orgasm.

“holy fuck” you finally let out, when his hand pulls away and he starts to slow down. your head dropping forward as your shaky hands try their best to hold you up and your legs try to stable themselves.

he pulls out slowly letting out a final groan. you both say nothing as you pull on your pants.

“i’ll pick you up on the boat tomorrow night?” he questions but it was more of an plan. all you can do is nod, still trying to catch your breath.

he smirks kissing you on the forehead before leaving and probably on his way to find his wife. but all you could do was smirk knowing his cum is dripping down your legs and not hers.

❣︎ ❣︎ ❣︎

(𝖺/𝗇: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽.)

[mysterycitrus]

the nineties gotham gang (bruce, dick, babs, tim, helena, steph, cass, jpv, dinah and zinda on the periphery) is like. the benchmark for complex and interesting character interactions for me because every single person has a different relationship with everyone else, and most of those relationships exist externally to bruce. he’s at the epicenter sure but he isn’t the constant third wheel. dick’s dislike of helena and jpv is incited by bruce but bruce doesn’t have to be present for the relationship to be interesting. tim and babs talk on page and have a rapport. cass and steph’s friendship is messy and complicated. every relationship in the rebirth era has bruce driving the bus. everyone gets along by trimming off important characterisation to remove interesting friction or the relationships are carbon copies of each other. tim shouldn’t have the same relationship w jason as he does w dick. damian might not be as close with babs as he is with steph. insisting that an absence of complexity is a superior form of storytelling sucks. watching emotionally volatile characters use therapy speak and attend pta meetings isn’t narratively coherent for these characters. i miss when people got to be bitchy and mean