#and it will either be played out like 'okay this happened and this too and now we go' which will still take 20 min just cause they're them

[sloaneispunk]

“the carousel”

soft!frontman (hwang in-ho) x you

when frontman planned the ‘mingle’ game, he knew it was set out to kill and eliminate. what he didn’t expect was how much he was willing to compromise when he had someone to lose.

──── 〇 △ □ ────

part one

as the games continued, the tension between the players continued to increase. between the ‘x’s and ‘o’s laid a thick, heavy atmosphere. nobody knew who to trust, there had been far too many betrayals for a lifetime.

however, you yourself had one person that you trusted…

young-il.

young-il had approached you after the first game, saying how since you and him were alone you should stick together.

you had your share of skepticism but something drew you in each time you tried to pull away. young-il was just so charming, so charismatic and gentle with you. you had seen how angry he could be when standing up for the rights of each person individually but with you he was just so soft spoken.

when you went to sleep, he would stay by you. either on the edge of your bed keeping watch or laying down beside your headrest staying ever so close to you.

of course you protected him too, maybe not as brave as he was when doing so but you always made sure he was safe and healthy. you would give him extra food and even though he protested, you’d make him eat it anyway.

he loved that you were equally protective and loving towards him as he was to you. he felt a sense of pride whenever you would stand up for him. it made the young boy in him happy and he knew it.

──── 〇 △ □ ────

part two

“players please walk in an orderly fashion towards your third game.”

you were walking beside young-il as he had his hand on your back making sure that you were always with him even though you were walking with the rest of the group.

“what game do you think we’ll play now?” you asked, looking up at him.

young-il let out a small chuckle, he loved how it didn’t even sound like you knew how dire the situation you were in was.

“i’m not sure, y/n. what are you hoping it’ll be?” he replied.

“maybe hopscotch, or jump rope.”

“maybe.”

however, when you stepped into the game room, there was a giant carousel in the middle. around it were many doors painted with different colors.

“oh, what is this? a giant carousel, how strange!” jung-bae made a remark, stepping onto the giant platform.

young-il stretched out his hand for you, briefly helping you up beside him once again, you thanked him with a smile.

“the game is ‘mingle’. a song will play as the carousel spins, once the song ends and the movement comes to a stop, a number will be called out. you must then make a team of the number and head into any room of your choice.”

“that sounds easy.” dae-ho said.

“no. it can’t be that simple, it never is.”

──── 〇 △ □ ────

part three

round one

‘round, round, round, round! let’s dance in circles!clap your hands and sing! la-la-la-la let’s have fun dancing!’

the child-like music blasted loudly as the lights started to dim. with a jerk of the platform, it started to spin.

young-il instinctively grabbed your arm, keeping you with him at all cost.

“no matter what happens, do not let go of me. you understand?” he instructed sternly as he turned to face you.

but before you could reply, the platform came to a sudden halt, causing you to stumble and grab onto young-il’s arm.

‘ten.’

then, the music abruptly stopped, a loud jarring alarm now taking its place on the speakers as the lights flashed and flickered.

“we have 6! we need 4 more!” gi-hun shouted as panic started to set in within everyone.

“we’re 4!” player 120 yelled, running towards you with 3 players behind.

“let’s go! yellow door!” young-il shouted, leading the way, his hand still grabbing onto yours.

he flung the door open and carefully led you in, making sure you were okay before going back out, holding the door for the others to enter.

as the timer hit one, he drew the door shut behind him. the lock on it clicking as he looked out.

you joined him as you stood and watched the scene unfold in front of you. it was chaos everywhere. those who were unable to find a team in time were scrambling and screaming, some even on their knees begging for the guards who were now pointing guns at them to spare them.

round two

the door clicked, unlocking itself moments later. you stepped out, met with the sight of blood and dead bodies of players around. young-il came up behind you, holding you close again. “look straight, don’t look down okay?” he whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

‘ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a’

you took in a deep breath as the platform started moving once more. this time everyone looked much more scared, you could see some shaking in fear while others were clearly enjoying themselves, linking arms and dancing in circles like a bunch of lunatics.

“four.”

your eyes shot to young-il. somehow even under the blinding flashes of lights, he looked just as handsome.

“you four go! me and y/n will find two more!” he shouted over the chaos.

“are you sure?!” gi-hun asked, skeptical to leave his friends.

“yes, go!”

with that, the six of you split ways. the four easily finding a room. gi-hun however was nervous. what if you couldn’t find a room in time? what if you couldn’t find more people?

“young-il, split up, i get one you get one!” you shouted, pulling back.

“no! y/n, don’t-”

but you didn’t listen. you knew that if you went together you wouldn’t be able to find two people in time.

“pink door! room twenty! i’ll meet you there!” you said and took off, running the opposite direction, leaving him no choice but to do as you asked.

you frantically looked everywhere for another person, it was hard to find someone that hasn’t already been dragged away by a team. then, you spotted a boy being kicked back by the two dancing lunatics.

you ran as fast as you could to him, grabbing him by the arm and leading him to room twenty. there young-il was already inside, holding open the door for you to enter.

as soon as your feet stepped inside, he shut the door tight behind you.

“my god, what were you thinking?! are you insane?!” he gently scolded, his head in his hands as he ruffled his hair.

“look, i’m okay!” you smiled, “and what did i tell you? it’s way faster that way.”

young-il let out a sigh of disbelief, rolling his eyes and he took his hands out of yours. just in time to save the two poor people in the same room, the door opened.

the boy you had saved mumbled a small ‘thank you’ before he took off, leaving you and young-il in the room alone.

“i’m sorry, i just wanted to help you.” you apologised.

“y/n, i was scared you weren’t going to come back.” he said, almost like a whisper. he walked over to you, pulling you into a hug.

“i’m sorry i-”

“don’t apologise, it’s okay. you’re a strong girl right? i knew you could do it.” he lightly chuckled, pulling away.

you offered him a smile in return, grabbing his hand again before leaving the room.

“there you guys are! we were worried sick!” a familiar voice said.

there, gi-hun and the team ran towards you, jung-bae engulfing young-il in a tight hug while dae-ho pulled you in for one too.

“hey, i’m a very likeable person. i do well in these games.” young-il joked, purposefully glancing at you, giving you a wink.

──── 〇 △ □ ────

part four

round three

‘ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, lets’s hold hands together, let’s have fun together’

‘three’

“how do you wanna do it?” you asked gi-hun who had a panic stricken look on his face.

“jung-bae, dae-ho and me! you, young-il and jun-hee!”

without question, young-il grabbed your arm again, dashing towards the nearest door before anyone could enter. he was so quick you almost couldn’t grab jun-hee’s hand in time.

after making sure everyone settled in safely unharmed, you immediately rushed to jun-hee’s side.

“was that too rough? did i hurt you? how’s your stomach?” you asked as she stood in the corner trying to catch her breath.

young-il watched without saying a word. he was immediately in a trance just by watching you, seeing you so gentle and kind towards people in need. it made him regret recruiting a kind soul like you into the game. he knew right then that it was either you or the game, especially once you found out exactly who he was.

round four

“how many more rounds do we have to play? i’m getting exhausted.” you said practically collapsing onto young-il as the platform stopped suddenly, not giving time for you to recover before the game started again.

“six.”

you were so exhausted you couldn’t even process everything that was happening, all you knew was that young-il was leading you by your hand straight into another room where you were met with familiar faces, the old lady’s team… but someone was missing.

1,2,3,4,5…

…player 095

“where is she?!” you asked, suddenly aware of the situation.

you could hear young-il’s voice telling you to stay in place and that he would go out and look for her but you ignored him, pulling open the door.

there you saw her on the floor, crying for help. but before you could step out, someone pushed you back into the room, knocking you back and locking the door behind him.

you felt a pair of hands immediately grab onto your stomach, catching you before you fell. young-il pulled you back, your body flush against him as the boy turned around, just as the timer hit zero and the door locked itself.

“nonono what did you do?!” player 120 shouted at him, shoving him to look out the hole. “young-mi! young-mi! no!”

“i just saved your lives! she wouldn’t have made it in time anyway!” he scoffed back.

“unnie!” young-mi cried, the pain in her voice piercing everyone’s heart.

“young-il.” you cried, turning to face away from the heartbreaking sight. you could still hear her cries as you buried your head into young-il’s chest. his arms wrapping around your body as he tried to comfort you.

then, there was a silent gunshot and the cries stopped.

for the first time, young-il felt a sense of guilt from the games. a stinging wave of sadness spread throughout his whole being.

maybe it was holding your shaking and exhausted body, or hearing your cries that made him soft again. he wasn’t sure whether to hate you or love you for it.

when the doors opened, everyone was still in a state of shock and grief.

“c’mon, it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he said softly as he guided you back onto the carousel.

──── 〇 △ □ ────

part five

final round

“it’s two.” young-il said coldly, looking around.

“how do you know?” you asked.

“at least a hundred people left, fifty rooms. they’re going to make us fight for it, that’s what they do…”

‘two’

without wasting a second, you and young-il ran towards the closest room.

this round was the more vicious and violent, everyone threw away their morales. there were some kicking others out of rooms, dragging teams away.

you must not have been paying attention because just as you were about to enter the room, right behind young-il, a pair of hands grabbed you from your waist, lifting you in the air and throwing you aside causing you to scream young-il’s name.

young-il whipped his head around, seeing you land on the floor, hitting your head in the process. rage fueled him as he pounced onto the man, giving you time to go into the room.

however, you were met with the sight of another man.

“get out.” you told him.

“no! we were here first!” he shouted back.

just then, young-il came running in, shutting the door behind him. when he saw another person in the room, he was fast to react, launching himself at the man.

“hey fuckin’ let me in!” a voice yelled from the outside.

you jumped into action, pressing your back towards the door, holding it shut while others tried to come in.

you looked up at the timer in the room.

10 seconds

young-il knew exactly what to do, he just wondered if it was the right thing to do in front of you. but as seconds passed, he knew for certain what he had to do if he wanted you to survive.

9

he grabbed the man by the neck, keeping him in a headlock

8

you could see the fear in the man’s eyes

7

the man started choking

6

his legs started to thrash around

5

he was fighting for every breath he could take

4

young-il’s grip tightened

3

‘crack’

2

silence filled the room

1

your eyes were wide open in shock as you waited for young-il to break the silence.

“y/n, i’m so sorry.” he finally said, putting down the now lifeless body onto the ground as he made his way to you.

you were beyond taken aback with the sight that was in front of you, hand over your mouth as you started to breathe quickly.

“hey, no, no. please don’t be scared. it’s me, y/n, it’s okay.” he said with that same gentle voice of his when he was talking to you, just not in a situation like this.

he took your hand away from your face, bringing it down and held your face in his hands.

“look at me please.” he said, his voice now so, so soft, almost as if he was pleading.

you blinked away tears as you slowly looked at young-il, staring deep into his brown eyes.

“thatta girl, it’s okay… i did what i had to do to keep you safe…” he said. “that’s what i promised you right?”

you nodded.

he leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead before stepping back. he wiped away your tears with his hands before taking your hand in his again, leading you out as the game came to an end.

what the fuck just happened?

[emotionalsupportgoblin420]

So first, lemme introduce you to my f/o of the week: Tfa Bumblebee

(Also, I will be rping as my Shisa s/i)

Me.

He would start with playing a song that is calming and that I like. Music always calms me down. Once I've settled down a bit, he'd hug me and just sit there till I was okay and playing calming music.

No. He doesn't wear clothes period lol /nm /silly

Him. He's also the one who needs protection more often as my yokai powers keep me well protected. Even against decepticons.

Low light, a candle, some snacks, maybe some hot coco for me, and some warmed up motor oil for him if it's the cold months, some blankets, a plushy for me, and anime while we're all cuddled up.

He would beg me not to leave, and I would have to to protect him.

Yessir! We're two nerodivergent dumbasses ofc we would lol /lh

I'm the only one who gets sick, and it's constant comfort, pity, and cuddles, which my touch starved ass LOVES.

Obvi we can't have bio children but he's not entirely against it. But preferably WAY in the future when we're both more mature lol.

Probably to somewhere like an amusement park. (Fun fact: In the canon, Bumblebee has gone to an amusement park. Whether or not his 16 foot tall robot ass was or was not allowed on any ride remains unknown, but imagining him on a roller coaster is fun as hell to me.)

We both kinda do. Him more than me, but we can always tell when the other is upset.

Not often, but it does happen. Usually over something petty ngl. It usually goes down like this: yelling, petty insults, storming off, coming back to talk about it calmly, apologizing, and forgiveness. Works for us. Neither of us are ones to linger on things long.

Me. I have made it my life's mission to torment him lol (in a loving way ofc. I try not to take things too far and to apologize when I do).

Both of us match each other's energy level, and we both have a love for speed. He sees me as a "goddess" (his words, not mine), and I am deeply insecure, and he helps with that while he's very confident (downright full of himself in a fun way.) The problem arise when you realize we both have ADHD. I'm innatentive, and he's hyperactive. That makes for an interesting combo to say the least lol. Also, he's a yapper and sometimes, I just wanna be left alone. This has led to a few petty arguments.

Yep. We both do. I always have to kiss him if either of us is leaving.

Omg yes. Sometimes, he won't shut up. But, I knew what I was signing up for, so I can't complain too much, lol.

Me. I'm the flirt in the relationship, and I wear it like a badge of honor.

Me! I LOVE animals! I already have a hamster and a crow (the crow is my familiar). If I could, I'd have horses, dogs, cats, cows, goats, ducks, and millipedes. I do have to restrain myself a little but will get some of those one day lol.

I'm aight with it most of the time. He loves it. He loves people knowing I'm his.

Pika Girl by S3RL

Bee would, and I'd help Ratchet patch him up.

The song Bumblebee always reminds me of him (for obvious reasons). Fire reminds him of me (because of my dark flame magic).

Either one of us, really. I could do it by being flirty (and possibly explicit 😏). He gives me his puppy eyes, and I am not leaving, lol.

Neither of us ngl. I'm too ticklish, and he wouldn't feel shit if I tried.

Video games! I don't care much for playing, but I love watching. Especially Legend of Zelda games.

Mine's alcohol. His is video games.

Him. He's such a toddler when he's drunk (I think it's kinda cute ngl. Also, according to G1, cybertronians can get drunk /nm /gen)

We like the basics. Babe, honey, sweetie, sweetheart, the usually. Babe is the most common one between the two of us.

Him. I freak out a bit. I hate the sensation.

If he could choose my outfit, he'd probably choose my yellow plaid dress and white leggings (assuming it's for a night out. If we're staying home, he'd pick some sort of laundering)

Oh, we're both handsy. But he can be more explict with it. If he can do it discreetly, he'll try to squeeze my thigh (not to say I mind ofc).

Me! I like to tell SCP stories! Unfortunately, I'm dyslexic so I often stumble over my words lol.

Me again. I love to forage for edible mushrooms, and I make mean fried mushroom nuggets if I do say so myself. He tried to cook once and nearly burned down the whole base. Optimus banned him from ever doing that again so... yeah.

We both make dirty jokes, but when it comes to stories that make the other blush, I'm the reigning champ.

Me. I draw all the time and make jewelry as well.

I'm most likely to fire up the stove at ungodly hours because I'm hungry. He keeps me company, which I appreciate.

Me. I cuss like a sailor (and I'm not happy about it).

He's the one always wanting to try something new. I'm a bit vanilla ngl. I just don't think of some of the things he does.

Me. He'd be against for like 10 minutes before caving to the cuteness and helping me beg Optimus to let us keep it lol.

Neither of us ngl. He doesn't eat, and I'm a lightweight when it comes to food portions.

Me as a joke lol.

He likes sunny and I like rainy.

Either of us. Without hesitation.

I would, and he'd join. The most likely song to create such a situation is Classic by MKTO.

Yes we both can.

Hell yeah 100%. We match each other's freak lol.

No. Both of us are chronic oversharers.

Him. He's literally a car lol.

Him more than me. If I don't give him enough attention, he starts begging like a dog. He knows what to do for my affection.

Me ngl. Nothing too bad. Just something little like hiding the game he was playing or something like that.

For me, it's happy stims, hugs, and nuzzling my face into him while I hug him. For him, it's some kind of gesture, like taking me on a nature or something.

California vacay and checking out cool stores and universal.

Any swimming is skinny dipping for him. I wouldn't, tho. I hate feeling that exposed outside of the comfort of either of our rooms.

He is. I physically couldn't carry him, lol. Not to mention, I usually fall asleep while cuddling or during a drive.

He doesn't get it, but he's willing to stargaze for me.

I usually will just spread my legs while we're alone, and he jumps at the opportunity. He'll just gently brush his hand against my bits, and I'm good to go.

I'm serious with grocery shopping, and he throws random stuff into the cart.

Me ngl.

I'm top dommy mommy. He's bottom twink.

He does.

Ask for OTPs and Self Ships

copied from a now gone post and blog: original url https://glitter-and-gasoline-deactivate.tumblr.com/post/687208822931095552

TW: angst, suggestive content, etc.

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Describe their cozy night in.

Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

What happens if one of them gets sick?

What are their thoughts on having children?

Describe their first date.

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

Who’s the bigger tease?

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Do they always say ‘i love you’ before leaving?

Can they stay up all night just talking?

Who’s more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

How do they feel about PDA?

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Who would get into a fight to defend the other’s honor? Who tends to the other’s wounds?

What reminds each of their partner?

Who’s more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Who’s more likely to give the other a massage?

Do they have any hobbies they share?

What are their vices?

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

Who’s the better story teller?

Who’s the better cook?

Who’s more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

Who’s more artistic?

Who’s more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry?

Which is more likely to swear?

Who is more sexually experimental? Who’s more vanilla?

Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Who has an insatiable appetite? And what does the other do to help?

Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

Can they fall asleep without the other?

Would they get frisky at the movies by themselves?

Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Who’s the better driver?

Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

who’s more likely to do something out of spite?

What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Describe their weekend getaway?

Would they ever go skinny dipping?

Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Who tops? Who bottoms?

Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

[psychoticbipolarbear]

Unprofessional innuendos

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: You keep teasing Hotch jokingly, a habit that stems from your feelings for him, but when you want to make a move he doesn't approve of, he thinks it's time to tell you he secretly likes it.

tags: daddy kink implied, age gap, pre-season 1, fem!bau!reader, Haley isn't with Hotch

word count: 0.9k

“Boys, we all know that Daddy loves me best,” you say with a laugh as you lean back in the chair with a smug smile on your face. 

Derek laughs with you as he shakes his head, knowing full well you are right, while Spencer looks like you just shot his dog. “What about me?” he asks hesitantly, pointing at himself. 

“You’re Gideon’s favorite, I won’t give you Hotch too.” 

“And I’m the oldest child both parents forget about,” Derek notes as he stands up and stretches his arms above his head. You throw a pen at him, but he catches it with ease and walks over to put it on your desk. “Come on, I’m paying for the drinks tonight. You’re coming too, Reid,” he adds, giving a pointed look to the youngest member of your team. 

You don’t move, instead you turn to the hallway where Hotch and Gideon’s offices are, wondering if you should at least offer them the chance to join you. Gideon barely came with you, but Hotch agreed every so often, and when you could convince him to drink more than two glasses, things always got interesting. He could be fun when he let his walls down, when he joined the playful banters, or when he played along with you when you were back on your usual bullshit after one too many drinks. 

So, despite the others’ protests, you jump up and run into Hotch’s office to convince him to join you. He’s playing hard to get, but you know you could easily get under his skin with a few sweet words, and sure enough, he rolls his eyes and closes the folder he was working with. “Fine,” he says, then stands up to follow you. 

Fast forward to one in the morning, when he’s standing at your door, holding you up while you try to open your front door. Derek offered to take you home, but he wasn’t that sober either, so Hotch took it upon himself to get you home in one piece. Despite being aware of your intoxicated state, he gives you a lecture in the car about how you should try to behave, toning down the innuendos that are usually flowing out of you more often than not. And it only happened around him, which made him wonder if there are real feelings behind them. 

One day is enough to put the pieces together, and when the team goes to their respective rooms after a long day of traveling and getting up to speed with a new case, you can’t help but linger around your boss’ room, debating whether or not you should talk to him. You know he was right that night, that you were taking things too far, that you were overstepping boundaries that existed for a reason. But you didn’t know what to do, your crush on him made it impossible to be around him and act normal. 

And tonight you had a moment of enlightenment and figured out what route you can take to solve this. So, you knock, impatiently waiting for him to open the door for you. When it creaks open, you see that he’s already dressed for bed, wearing a white shirt and black track pants, and his hair is a mess already. “Did something happen?” he asks.

“I know it’s late, I’m sorry. There’s something I want to tell you, but I don’t want to wait until the morning,” you admit, glancing past him into the room as a sign that maybe you shouldn’t discuss it there. He gets the message and steps aside to let you in. “I’m leaving the team,” you announce when he leans against the wall. 

Hotch freezes, but his brown eyes tell you that his brain is in overdrive. “What?” You nod, not feeling like responding with words. “No.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“It should be. Is it because of what we talked about in the car?” he asks as he steps closer, slowly closing the distance between you. You nod again. “Okay, listen to me very, very carefully. I said what I said because I don’t want a scandal. I swear to God, one day the way our team members communicate will trigger a sexual harassment training. Garcia and Morgan? You and me? That’s completely unprofessional, no matter how natural it feels to us,” he says. 

You think about what he said, then you note, “But you never join in when I say those things. It’s not mutual.”

To your surprise, he lets out a laugh, then reaches out to cup your face. “Don’t think I don’t want to,” he admits, leaning so close you can feel his hot breath on your skin. “I love the way you’re teasing me, surprisingly, I even find your stupid daddy and sir kinks endearing, but I need to draw the line at work. I’m your boss, there are rules against relationships like that.” He thinks about this, then lets his hands slide down from your cheek, moving along your neck, down over your collarbone, exploring your sides as he leans in to kiss you. “Stay here tonight. Let me show you how badly I want you,” he breaths against your lips.

Your brain doesn’t work properly anymore, you can’t think of a reason why you should say no to him. So, you stay, giving in to the sexual tension that’s been building up ever since you joined the team. From that night on, you don’t even think about leaving the team again. You just tone down the comments to play by his rules.

[0mg-bird]

Something Positive- S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Agent Reader

Summary: 99 negative things and 1 positive. How will it ever turn out okay?

Warnings: season 7, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy fear, nausea, mention of miscarriage talks, Spencer being scared and probably says the wrong things 😭 anyway, fluffy, but also depressing themes. I haven’t finished proofreading, oops lol idc.

You’re supposed to know your body and every little change it makes because, well, it’s your body.

So blame this all on your brain that often skips over the small things that it should really pay attention to. You could have suspected this earlier if you would’ve just slowed down for two seconds, but what difference would it make if you came to the conclusion earlier?

Absolutely none.

The test in your hand would still be positive and you would still have the feeling you do now.

A mixture of fear and devastation.

Spencer isn’t in the apartment you just moved into a month ago, he’s at Rossi’s with the rest of the team like you’re supposed to be. But you played the flu card and forced him to go without you. Then you forced yourself to the corner store and bought two pregnancy tests, a back up for good measure. It isn’t needed, the two lines are almost bold as they stare at you. The dates of the calendar back it up, as well as the queasiness about you.

You’re pregnant.

You. You are pregnant.

That can’t be.

You throw away the test, all the evidence goes into the trash and you try to calm your racing heart. You wash your hands and your face, though tears just keep falling no matter what.

This really wasn’t supposed to happen, it shouldn’t be happening. You’re traveling so often for cases, and there’s so much going on with the team. Emily just came back from the dead, literally, that’s already too much to deal with, you don’t need to add anymore stress to the team. You’re no help if you’re pregnant.

Spencer won’t be any help either if his main concern is you.

Staring at your reflection, you suddenly don’t feel real. You rub your eyes and push your hair back, overwhelmed with so many feelings, you can’t distinguish one from the other.

You do know one feeling from the rest.

The urge to bolt.

Blame the hormones, but you quickly leave the bathroom and slip into a pair of shoes, then grab for your coat and keys, and just like that, you’re gone.

Wandering aimlessly, you suck the evening air into your lungs as you walk the streets, past shops and people with different lives. You’re lost in thought, no better than a zombie as you continue to wipe your eyes.

It took you and Spencer long enough to even get together, you just finished placing your things in his apartment, there’s no room for a crib. He has far too many books, he’d have to sacrifice even more space for things a baby needs. The both of you work odd hours and sleep in bad motel rooms and fly all over the country and get shot at. You aren’t an expert but that doesn’t seem healthy.

There is no room for a baby in your life. Period.

The team has only experienced pregnancy with JJ and-

JJ.

Your friend who would know exactly what to do and how to help, the friend you have given the cold shoulder to ever since you found out that she let you mourn Emily, your best friend, for weeks and weeks. She let you cry and talk about how hard things have been for and Spencer, especially Spencer, and she didn’t say a single thing that she knew Emily was okay.

You have a feeling of bitterness now to join your emotion smoothie.

Up ahead, you see a tired mother trying to pull her crying toddler out of a drugstore. Her hair is tied up, she’s tugging at the child, giving up on arguing with him.

You turn around and decide home is actually where you need to be so you don’t vomit up your nerves in public.

When Spencer comes home, you’re sitting at the bottom of the tub, cheek to your knees as the spray of the shower hits you from above. You hear him take off his shoes and coat and walk to the bedroom, more than likely changing. He’s definitely tired.

He knocks on the bathroom door, checking on you.

“Hey, you feeling alright, angel?”

You sigh. He’s so perfect, arguably the best thing that’s ever happened in your life, and you’re going to ruin him with this news.

“I’ll be out in a second.” You call back, smoothing your hands over your hair, then look at the rings on your fingers.

Sliding one from your right hand to your left, you decide your ring finger just is going to stay bare.

“They missed you tonight, Emily said that you call her first if you need anything.” Spencer says as you rub lotion into your skin while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You hum.

“I think she’s just overcompensating, but she means well.” He claims, pulling the covers back.

You can’t tell him tonight, it’s not the right time. Instead you’ll just get some sleep, laying on your side, facing the window. As Spencer lays behind you, you push away his hand that splays on your stomach.

He goes a little stiff with confusion, but holds your hip without question, then whispers he loves you, like he does every night.

You live out a routine for the next following days to come. You wake up tired, you tell Spencer that you never get over the flu easily and that’s why you have the urge to throw up at any given second. When you’re tired of laying on the couch, you go back to work where everyone shares a look at how moody you can be.

“Is everything…okay?”

You look up from the evidence photos to find Hotch.

Most of the team is out all over the town you just got in, trying to solve the disappearance of three young girls.

Hotch suggested you stay at the police station with him for a while, giving Spencer some air after you snapped at him for no apparent reason.

“Everything’s fine.” You say, looking back down at the crime scene pictures.

“Is everything alright with you and Reid?” He pushes.

“Yes, we’re fine. I just hate it when he hovers, drives me crazy.” You huff, not giving him your attention.

Hotch had always been a sort of father to you. Almost like how Gideon was a mentor to Spencer, Hotch tried his hardest not to act like it but he was always very protective of you. No one could really blame him, he helped you through many things over the years, and along the way he became your family. So it makes sense that he’s questioning you now with a furrowed brow.

“I want you to know that if something is going on and you felt like you were alone…you aren’t. The whole team would move mountains for you.” He says in a very fatherly tone, a tone that has always seemed to affect you but never in the way it does now.

You quickly blink away tears and nod. “I just don’t feel well, but I’ll be okay.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and as Hotch looks you over, he proves how good of a profiler he really is. Slowly, he sits at the table and takes the papers from your hand, which is probably good, you’ve been staring at them for too long. Your eyes lift up to him.

“Does Reid know?”

Three words, and you want to flee.

“No.” You say hoarsely.

He nods in understanding. “This isn’t something you can do alone, but I understand if you need some time away to figure things out.”

You wrap your arms around your stomach, something you’ve been doing subconsciously. “This is my job.” You say.

“And it’s really stressful, so if you need some downtime, I’m glad to give it to you.”

Nodding, you understand. “Don’t tell anyone.” You ask of him, knowing he’d never betray you like that.

For two moments, you have a sense of peace.

And then Spencer and Morgan return, causing you to slip a mask back on and pretend you’re fine.

By some miracle, you get through the case and get home without any problems. Spencer on the other hand is convinced that you’re going through a mental break.

“Still tired?” He asks gently, at the end of the week, sitting on the bed and rubbing your leg as you bury yourself in the comforter.

You wordlessly nod, then try to sort out your thoughts.

“Baby?” He calls softly, a name he hardly ever calls you. “I think we should take you to a doctor.”

“Why?” You croak.

You know why. Spencer thinks you’re depressed, which you can’t really blame him, you’ve been laying in bed most of the day, turning your nose up at the idea of food, knowing it will all just make you feel sick. Your boyfriend is a great profiler, he notices your odd behavior these past couple days but he still can’t figure out why.

“I’m…I think they can tell you what’s wrong with you- not that anything is wrong with you but…there’s something wrong, isn’t there?”

Bless him and his softness he unconditionally shows you, but you just don’t have it in you to match his tenderness.

“I’m fine.” You state, tone not meaning it.

Before he can deny it and rub your leg again, you sit up too quickly and flee him, foolishly thinking he’ll stay put. Spencer is a golden retriever, though, so he follows loyally, only for the bathroom door to be slammed in his face.

“I’m concerned about you, okay?” He calls, voice muffled through the wood. “And I get scared when you just brush it off, brush me off.”

You stand at the sink, head drooped. The tears start slow, they fall into the basin. What was wrong with you? You have a man as good as Spencer and you’re ruining everything.

You fall into a dangerous storm of negative thoughts, all aimed at you like it’s target practice. The tears fall much quicker now, hot and sticky, your hand presses to your mouth to keep the sobs away.

Spencer hears you squeak, and immediately opens the door you should have locked.

You turn to face him, dropping the hand to your stomach.

His features twist into something of sadness and utter concern, he’s standing in front of you in just two steps.

“What is it?” He questions, holding your face in his hands, thumbs wiping at your tears. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

You can’t. You have to say it but you can’t.

A breath shutters through you and you shake your head. “Spence.”

“I’m right here, it’s alright.” He promises, so adamant that he can help.

“I…”

“Just breathe-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You’ve never seen him stop talking so fast. His mouth hangs open for a moment, then it closes.

All the years you’ve known Spencer, he’s never been at a loss for words. He’s trying so hard to just say something and he can’t. Maybe it’s the fear in your eyes that has him drawing a blank, maybe it’s the fact that he’s come up with ninety nine possibilities and this is the one he didn’t imagine.

“Okay.” He says after a heavy silence. “Okay, that’s, well it’s definitely something.”

Your tears don’t stop, in fact they might just fall heavier now.

He’s mad- no, he’s upset. He doesn’t want this and now everything is ruined. Your fears are coming true.

You pull his hands from his face, then brush past him.

He calls your name. “Wait, I don’t mean it like that. I just didn’t think about this, I haven’t planned for this yet.”

You pull one of his sweatshirts on and slide into your sneakers, not bothering with the laces before you slip from the apartment with a sense of deja vu, vanishing just like that.

- - - -

You’re not even sure how you got here, you’re sure you look like a wreck, but it’s too late to turn back now.

The door opens and JJ’s face morphs into confusion.

“Hey, Jay.” You try to smile, but when she opens the door wider and pulls you inside so quickly, it’s hard to maintain a composure.

You ramble, she lets you. For ten straight minutes you go on and on about everything, because you’ve had all of these thoughts bottled up and now you resemble something of a ship sinking beneath the waves. You apologize, you’re so sorrowful and tell her how wrong you are for saying all the hurtful things you said to her. She sits beside you on her couch while Will is upstairs with Henry. At some point she starts crying too because that’s what best friends do when their other half is saying she doesn’t know what to do. By the end of the confession and rant, you physically can’t cry anymore and your nose is red, face splotchy, and you just look at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Slowly, she takes your hand and says your name, grounding you.

“No one is going to say this to you so I will.” She says. “You’re not a monster for being scared.”

Your lungs exhale and she continues.

“But all of these concerns are just anxiety, they aren’t real. You can still do your job, the team won’t hate you, you are capable of doing this, life isn’t going to fall apart.”

She’s so sure, you’re practically forced to believe her.

“Spencer.” You mumble, watching as she takes a breath and nods like she knows.

“Reid is…Reid has the highest IQ and still doesn’t know the right thing to say. But this is news you sprung on him and he’s never had to deal with this sort of thing. He’s scared too.” She reminds, a little more honest with her words now that you’ve calmed down.

Just as you open your mouth to say something, her phone rings from its spot on the coffee table.

She squeezes your knee and grabs for it.

“It’s Spencer.” She says before answering it.

You can’t hear exactly all the words he says, but based off JJ’s reaction, he’s clearly panicked.

“Spencer- hey, slow down. It’s okay. No, she’s here with me. She’s fine.”

You feel guilty, so incredibly guilty. You left your cell in the apartment, not bothering to bring it with you, and the idea of Spencer freaking out because he has no way of reaching you, has your stomach churning.

Or maybe it’s the fact you’re starving.

Canons of your self destruction fire off at yourself, you’re sitting with your head hung as JJ talks him down. This wasn’t her job, this was yours. He’s your partner.

What are you doing?

As she hangs up, she gives you look, knowing you’re already heading for the door.

“Be easy on him, okay?” She says, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright.”

What a simple thing for her to say and a not so simple thing to do.

You go home, trying to rehearse conversations in your head. Surely, you look odd on the subway, whispering to yourself, trying to anticipate what Spencer will say. A few people shuffle off at a stop, and the seat across from you opens up. A woman takes it, she has a baby wrapped in a sling, it’s napping with its head on her bust and when she pulls the cover back, you can see it’s perfect round head. She gently strokes its fuzzy, brown hair and hushes it softly when it stirs.

Maybe life wouldn’t be so bad if that were you, feeling your child’s warmth.

When you get to the front door of your apartment, you take in one final breath and decide you can face the music.

You open the door, kick off your shoes and are immediately feel the rug getting yanked out from under you.

“You can’t just storm out!” Spencer says rather loudly, giving the reaction you didn’t want. “And leaving your phone here? Giving me no way to reach you? I called everyone!”

He’s angry.

“I was with JJ.” You say softly.

“Well, I know that now.” He huffs.

Shrugging off your coat, you gently approach.

“I’m sorry I worried you, please don’t shout.”

At your meek tone, Spencer immediately softens, scorning himself for being abrasive. He runs his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to get himself back in check.

“I’m sorry. Can- can we just sit down and talk about this, please?” He asks, moving to sit on the worn couch.

After a second, you follow.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to reach out and touch you, but given the way you seem to shrink into yourself, he just rubs his knees over and over again.

“How long have you known?” He asks, though he has some estimates.

You slowly breathe out. “A couple weeks.”

His lungs burn. A couple weeks?

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your fingernails dig into your palms. “I was scared…I’m still scared.” And all that work to avoid his eye, you finally meet that puppy dog look of his and immediately break down.

You just can’t seem to stop crying. Why are you crying all the time?

“I’m so scared, Spencer, I’m so scared.” You shudder out, and those hands he awkwardly kept to himself are now pulling you to him, cradling your head to his chest and putting your legs in his lap.

“Hey, I know, I know. And I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, I made it worse, I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair before moving his lips to your forehead. “I was surprised is all.”

“You aren’t mad at me?” You tremble, gripping his shirt. Never in your life have you been this clingy, and if the circumstances were different, you’d be embarrassed by this child like behavior. Spencer doesn’t mind it at all, he’s holding you like he’s the glue keeping you together.

“I’m not mad. I’m a little sad you didn’t tell me sooner, but I’m not mad. Why would I be mad at you?”

With his fingers in your hair, you take a few quick breaths. “I ruined everything.” You say as a cry.

He hates those words that just came out of your mouth.

Spencer shifts, pulling back to look at your face, red and tear streaked.

“Hey.” He coos. “You haven’t ruined anything, sweetheart, don’t even think that.”

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you shake your head. “My career is over, the team is going to be inconvenienced, and you- you’re never going to be able to do your job the same. All the work you’ve done, it’s just ruined, I’ve done this to you.”

He cups your damp cheek. “Stop, stop. Listen to me, can you do that?”

You shut your mouth and nod.

“Good.” He says. “Now, you haven’t done anything wrong. It takes two to tango, yeah? The team is going to be elated, Penelope is going to throw this biggest party ever. We worked it out when JJ had Henry, we can do it again.”

There’s a way he can say all these things and it just makes sense in your mind. You nod along, this makes him smile.

“And as for me..” He tucks hair behind your ear. “I would give up all my degrees, I’d throw away all the progress and work I’ve done if it meant the only thing I had in my life was you and a baby that’s my own.”

You love him. You’ve never loved him more than you do now, in this moment, starving and crying and so scared. That’s why you lean forward and press your trembling lips to his, trying to steal the oxygen from his lungs.

Spencer is willing to breathe into your open mouth, even if it meant he’s have no part of himself left that was just his. In his mind, he doesn’t want Spencer to be Spencer, he wants your imprint in every part of himself so he’s no longer just him.

He kisses your hairline and then places your back in that space between his collar bone and jaw, it’s carved only for you anyway.

“Tell me everything that scares you.” He instructs, finger circling your bent knee.

You can’t say ‘everything’, so you say what you can form into words.

“It’s so soon, we haven’t talked about this yet.” You start.

“It’s a little early, but we have a home and a stable income and I love you and I want this if you want this.” He says so simply, as if he’s bandaging a paper cut.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I could be really bad at it.” You state.

“We’ll figure it out together, I don’t know what to do either, but no one really does. But there is no way you will be a bad mom. That’s my professional opinion.”

You laugh lightly, he grins and subtly squeezes you.

“But what if it all goes bad? What if I can’t make it healthy, what if I…what if I lose it? Spencer, I don’t think I could live with myself if I was the reason you don’t get a living, breathing baby.” It hurts your chest to even say.

Spencer gently shushes you. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll make sure you’re healthy and doing everything you can to prevent that.”

You let that ease you into silence, then you wipe your eyes once more because you can’t stop crying.

“We’re not married.”

Did you say that out loud?

You must have because Spencer hums, not startled, but he mulls it over in his head.

“Does that matter to you?” He asks, genuinely curious. And you don’t know how to answer because you didn’t think it did.

But you said it, it’s been on your mind…so yeah, it might matter.

“Yeah, I guess…I don’t know.” You sigh, nudging your nose against his neck.

Spencer considers it, then hums like he does when he understands something. “Then we’ll get married.”

It’s the way he says it, so easy, makes you shake your head. “No, I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m pregnant now. Besides, planning a whole wedding is stressful.”

“That’s not why I said it, lovely. Yeah, we’re having this conversation because you’re pregnant but I want to marry you because it means something to me too. I don’t want to do life with anybody else besides you.” He states, dropping his chin to the top of your head, keeping you close to his pulse. “And a big wedding isn’t our style anyway. We can go to the courthouse right now if it’s what you want. Tomorrow you’ll have your name changed- or keep it, if that’s what you want.”

How perfect, how wonderful he is, and how lucky you are to be doing this with him.

Breathing in his scent once again, you nod. “I want to have the same last name as our baby. Oh god, our baby. That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever said.” You gently laugh.

“I like hearing it, though.” He says, a boyish smile, though he’s never been more of a man than in this moment.

You didn’t think your day would end like this, and perhaps this decision isn’t properly thought out, but the two of you want this.

You make it to the courthouse house just as they’re about to close, with the flashes of your credentials, they make a few exceptions. You don’t have rings, that part will get figured out later, and you there’s no grand catering, just Chinese food on the living room floor. It’s all perfect though, because you’re married and so in love with him and he’s giving you the last egg roll.

“You know, I didn’t think it was possible to be so hungry and nauseous at the same time.” You say, slurping up a noodle, washing it down with a Coke.

“You know, the fetal placenta produces a hormone called human chorionic gonadotropin that’s rapidly increasing, and if the mother is more sensitive to it, then they’re more nauseous.” Spencer states factually, proud that his knowledge applies to this.

“How do I cure it, Doctor?” You ask, a fond smile on your face.

“Don’t skip meals, like you have been doing. No more of that. We’re going to have to call your doctor tomorrow, and start prenatal vitamins. You know, if we push the dresser into the closet and shift the brown bookshelf over a few feet, that will free up space for a crib. You’ll want a side sleeper bassinet though, it slides right next to the bed so you don’t have to get out of bed as often.”

Having a baby with Doctor Spencer Reid was like having the next nine months planned out for you. As he rambles on with all the things that will need to be done, you laugh and lean over, kissing him to get him to pause.

“What was that for?” He asks, kissing you once more.

“I love you, that’s all.” I smile.

Tracing your jawline with his finger, he grins right back at you. “I love you too.”

After a moment, you speak again. “Am I a doctor now?” You ask.

“What? No.” He shakes his head.

“I’m technically Mrs. Doctor Reid.”

“Angel.” He laughs.

“That’s Doctor Angel to you.”

[inquisitornocturn]

NSFW alphabet no.11 - Maximillian Strauss

Okay, I'll admit, Strauss' brain was hardest to tune into so far, but I think I cracked that egg open~

Dear Regent was requested by a darling @makethemworse <33

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Assuming you are close to Strauss and not just a simple tryst that serves some sort of higher purpose, Strauss will make sure that you are alright afterwards. He’s not a cuddler, so do not expect that, but pampering an exhausted partner is not a lost art to him. So you will be given blood, made comfortable and taken care of before he departs. He’s not the one to stick around for longer than necessary, but Strauss is a gentleman and won’t leave you stranded to fend for yourself.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Strauss’ favorite body part is definitely his hands. You think he wears gloves as a fashion statement? That’s only partially true. He also protects them for the things he can do with them. From using blood magic, to exquisitely pleasuring his partner, the Tremere Regent finds many uses for his hands and fingers, therefore guaranteeing you a truly expert touch. On his partner, he highly appreciates legs. A classic look of them in red heels (clearly his favorite color) is a true weakness to Strauss and the most obvious one to any person who has access to him on the intimate degree.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

In truth, Strauss does not care either way. Whether to come in you or not, he will do as you ask. And he doesn’t have a particular fetish about you swallowing or playing with it. For him it’s just something that happens naturally, and no more worth mentioning than the weather.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It will take a lot of effort, trust and time to get Strauss to admit that he’s much into blood play. Why such shame? Because he carries himself as above basic kindred “depravities”, citing blood as too precious to waste for activities like sex. However, he’s very much into it. Blood as lube is not just an AO3 tag for him~

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced because no matter how he presents himself now, an Elder and a Primogen, Strauss had his wild days and learned a lot during them. Showing that experience might be tricky, as mentioned above with his dirty secret, some layers of trust are mandatory to be peeled before he starts revealing just how exactly experienced he is. But once that happens, hold onto your ankles, it’s a ride you won’t ever forget.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Absolutely cowgirl, in bed where he can lie down and watch you bounce on it. It’s not that he’s lazy, not at all. Seeing your body move is one of the greatest pleasures for Strauss and he won’t ever pass the chance to pull you on top of him. Worry not, if you start getting tired he will help you out by holding your hips and fucking you upwards until you are too spent, reached your climax or are good to continue for longer.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Strauss is actually quite funny when he gets to unwind and drop the serious mask for once, so you can expect him to create an easy-going, very relaxed atmosphere when engaging in sexual activities. He’s not the one to mock or ridicule you, but he will comment if you get tired too fast or can’t handle a session. In a playful kind of manner, of course.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very confidently Strauss does match carpet to the drapes. To put it clearly – he shaves. It’s a habit he picked up long ago and now can’t really go back on it. In life he was never the hairiest man so the nightly task is not too difficult, but he insists on doing it almost religiously. He also showers, perfumes himself and wears clean clothes every night even if he doesn’t really have to. For him – tidiness of one’s person means a certain status among others and he uses anything he can to show his.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You are his focus when having sex. His research is forgotten, Tremere plights put on hold, Camarilla can definitely wait. Nothing matters but you. While not the biggest romantic, Strauss will still find his way to make you feel appreciated and loved without needing to recite Shakespearean sonnets. Even with small things like attention to your comfort, a word of encouragement or praise, a softer touch where he might suspect you’re hurting. In these small ways the Regent will show you that currently you are truly the only thing on his mind.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

A fan of touching himself, but not more than touching you. However, Strauss got a habit of masturbating during long nights when he was a younger kindred, especially during early studies of clan’s magic when he would spend a lot of time in isolation. He still has the same habit even if he does it less, but Strauss treats it as a way to relax, a pleasant pause during grueling studies and he takes his time to slowly stroke himself. Not exactly edging, but not hurrying to spill himself either, it’s one of the “finer” things that he enjoys without shame or hurry.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage. And that means him being the one bound. Blindfold him, tie his hands, fuck him. While Strauss likes to see you riding him, there’s even more pleasure in suspense of what you will do to him. He does have his preferences, of course, but he’s confident and curious enough to agree to a variety of things and not knowing what you might’ve come up this time is part of the pleasure and excitement.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Tremere Chantry and to be even more specific – main ritual room. While he would deny it to anyone else that he has such desire to “corrupt” the room and the furniture there, that’s part of the reason why he keeps it locked for most of the time. Not only it gives him an extremely private location to have sex in, but also the thrill of combining sex with blood magic is something that gets him going quite easily.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

And speaking of blood magic, Strauss gets turned on not by what you show him or what you say him, but the idea of what he can do to you. Specifically, what magic he can use or even invent to elevate your sessions to the next level. He’s a very skilled Cainite, a powerful one too, so you might get surprised more than once with what he can come up with. Just don’t tell anyone else that Strauss is creating spells just for sex, not a good idea.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t approach a potential sex partner first. If you show interest in him, that’s a good start, but if you wait around until Strauss makes the first step – you will wait until the world ends. And while he does pick up on hints, both subtle and not so much, he still won’t act upon them until you show open interest in him. Which goes same for bedroom for the most part. If you are not the one to suggest something different, he will rely on good old missionary. That’s not to say that he’s not interested per se, Maximillian simply has no time for guessing games and prefers if you communicate clearly. Once he knows that, you can expect him too to start suggesting ideas.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Equally enjoys getting and giving. While you suck him off, Strauss will let you lead and only comment if you do something he does not like, contrary to what he expects from you, wanting you to tell him exactly what you like. In his mind – he’s permitting you some mistakes, while he permits himself none. But, to your relief, you don’t need to instruct him much, because he sure knows what he’s doing when your legs are on his shoulders.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Maximillian is a connoisseur of slow and sensual. Why rush the good thing, right? Especially when his generally busy schedule prevents him from spending as much time as he would like with you. So expect long sessions full of sensuality, touches and experimentation.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Finding quickies unsatisfactory to the highest degree, Strauss will abstain from partaking in them even if you ask him really really nicely. No, the Regent won’t “lower” himself to a quick fuck, finding the act of sex a refined activity that must be done well and with proper attention. So if you’re looking for a quick relief, you better off doing it yourself.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s definitely open to experimentation of almost any kind. He will also take dangerous risks, such as involving blood spells, to elevate the experience even further. While there have been some very close calls in the past, Maximillian won’t lie about that and will tell you exactly what such activities and games might entail. To him – fully informed consent is the sexiest thing of all.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Knowing how to preserve his energy and stamina, Strauss won’t run “out of breath” any time soon, but he won’t waste time or effort if his pleasure is not maximized. However, if it is, you are in for a long ride. Several hours not being out of the question and he knows how to take breaks and let you recuperate, but if he’s really having a good time, then there will be several such intense session, sometimes lasting all night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns some, but not too many. Despite that, he wields them like a professional and you won’t be disappointed. Strauss is also completely open to have toys used on him, no matter the kind. It’s all about pleasure and experiencing it fully for him, so he won’t deny a potential exciting avenue. But, obviously, won’t repeat it if the benefits weren’t worth it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Maximillian is not the teasing kind, but that only means outside of the bedroom. Behind closed doors – he is very much the type. Teasing with words or actions until you’re sweating, begging and shaking is what he strives for and will happily indulge you when he suspects that you’re reaching your limit. Yet every session will test that limit further and further. He will research your body like he would research an ancient spell tome – with full concentration, attention and expertise.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

No matter how loud Strauss is, he will make sure you’re louder. But generally he won’t be too shy to express himself through moans and groans, especially when you’re taking charge of the act. Whether you’re sucking him off, fucking him in his favorite position or simply experimenting on him, you will hear when he likes something and you will hear it clearly.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Very fond of orgies. The more the merrier, but usually these types of affairs are very superficial. He’s there to enjoy himself physically and to experience something new, but no deeper connections are made. If you participate with him, you will notice that Maximillian pays attention mostly to you even if he lets others to experience his body, becoming quite passive. Experimentation, specifically of the sexual nature, is reserved for you alone.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Pretty average in length, but thicker. Definitely pale, quite veiny, the head is smaller than the shaft but very sensitive. Curved fairly noticeably and Strauss works that to his advantage.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Decent sex drive but he doesn’t show any of it unless he finds a partner he truly can be himself with. Which means that he trusts you to a high degree, if not fully and completely. The longer you stay with Maximillian, the more he will begin thinking about spending time with you in a sexual way and the more you will find him yearning for your attention. How long that might take though is hard to say, might be years, might be decades. Persistence, so to speak, is key.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Strauss only rests when necessary and you will often even find him awake during daytime, even though he is extremely sluggish and groggy on those occasions. So you will be the first one to fall into the day-sleep and he may or may not join you in that. Most nights, when you wake up, you won’t find Maximillian by your side, but he will always leave you a note, telling you where to find him.

[charmed-quill]

Burrow Bound//B.W x Reader Chapter 2

a/n: okay a few things: 1) I am not American nor am I English (🐨🦘🇦🇺) so if anything is wrong don’t tell me I’ll cry. 2) I made the reader Southern cuz southern accents are so stinking cute are you joking?! 3) this is definitely going to be a slow burn since I just LOVE building character relationships, I love having relationships that feel genuine?

request: @littlegreenteacup

Could you possibly write a longer one shot (or longer if that makes more sense) for Bill Weasley x American reader where the reader is a halfblood witch who works for the natural history museum in muggle London and befriended the twins (who are the same age as her) and Charlie after getting lost looking for a shop in Diagon Alley since she’s only just moved to England. Bill is reeling suddenly being a single father after Fluer leaves and has to leave her with Molly during the day. The reader spends a fair amount of time at the Burrow but she and Bill always seem to just miss each other (much to everyone else’s amusement and frustration) and then one day he walks in to pick up Victoire after work and the reader is either holding her or playing with her or something and it’s love at first sight for him, but he’s a little bit awkward about it all and it’s slightly angsty until the dam breaks and fluff ensues.

Word count: 2.7k

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

The Burrow was alive with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of dishes. Y/N stepped through the doorway into a space so warm and inviting it felt like stepping into a hug. The scent of roasted potatoes and pork mingled with the rich aroma of gravy and something sweet dancing in the air. 

The kitchen was a whirl of activity, with Molly bustling between the stove and the table, her wand directing a ladle to stir a pot while she stacked plates with practiced ease.

“Oi, Y/N!” a loud voice called out, and she spotted Fred, grinning at her from the table. He waved her over with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Saved you a seat. Right next to the charming one.”

“That’s me,” George interjected from across the table, earning an exaggerated scoff from Fred.

She made her way over, carefully weaving through the chaos of chairs and family members, trying to take in everything at once. 

A clock ticked softly in the corner, the wood-paneled walls were adorned with moving photographs, their subjects waving cheerfully at her. A stack of books teetered precariously near the fireplace, and the whole house seemed to hum.

As she sat down next to Fred, Y/N couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. 

“This place is incredible,” she murmured.

Fred smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “Wait ‘til Mum gets yelling about something. Really completes the ambiance.”

“I hope you’re hungry,” he added as he handed her a plate.

“Starved,” she replied, inhaling deeply once more. The smells were intoxicating, a reminder of home-cooked meals she hadn’t realised she missed.

“Ron!” Molly’s sharp voice rang out across the kitchen. “Get your grubby fingers out of the pudding!”

Ron, mid-swipe at a bowl of something creamy and golden, froze like a deer in headlights. “I was just checking if it was done,” he mumbled, quickly retracting his hand as Molly shot him a glare.

“By sticking your fingers in it?” Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she passed him a clean spoon. “Try this. It’s called ‘not being disgusting.’”

“Enough out of you,” Ron muttered, his ears turning pink as he busied himself with a plate of bread rolls.

Arthur, seated at the head of the table, chuckled warmly. “Careful, Ron, you'll be banned from dessert.”

“I’m not banned, am I, Mum?” Ron asked quickly, shooting her a worried glance.

“That depends on how well you behave,” Molly replied, her tone stern but her eyes twinkling.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension of being an outsider slowly melt away. She leaned closer to Fred and whispered, “Does this happen every night?”

“Every meal,” he confirmed, looking far too proud of the chaos. “You’ll love it here. We specialise in entertainment.”

“Entertainment or torment?” George quipped.

“Both,” Fred replied with a grin. “We’re multi-talented.”

Molly bustled past, setting down a steaming bowl of vegetables in the center of the table. She paused to pat Y/N on the shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of noise, dear. With this lot, it’s unavoidable.”

“It’s perfect,” Y/N said sincerely, her gaze sweeping over the cozy kitchen again. 

Ginny plopped down beside George, shaking her head at her brothers. “Ignore them. They think they’re funny.”

“We are funny,” Fred corrected.

“No, you’re annoying,” she countered, snagging a roll from Ron’s plate before he could stop her.

“Hey!” Ron protested. “Get your own!”

“And miss the fun of stealing yours?” she shot back, grinning.

Molly took a seat beside her husband, smiling kindly at Y/n. 

“You better get cracking, Y/N,” Charlie called from a few seats down, his grin wide as he gestured at the food-laden table. “There’ll be nothing left if you wait much longer.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of his teasing, and turned her attention to the feast before her. Taking his advice, she began piling her plate with roasted pork, golden potatoes, bright green peas, tender carrots, and flaky little pastries that looked too good to resist. She finished it off with a generous ladle of thick, dark gravy, the aroma alone making her stomach growl in anticipation. The scents were heavenly, a comforting blend of herbs, roasted meat, and buttery richness that filled the room.

Her plate was a masterpiece of food, and her mouth watered just looking at it. Not knowing where to start, she scooped a little bit of everything onto her fork and took a big bite. 

The flavors hit her all at once, savory pork, perfectly seasoned vegetables, and the velvety gravy tying it all together. It was so delicious she couldn’t help but close her eyes for a moment, savoring the explosion of flavors.

“So, Y/N,” Molly began, her voice cutting gently through the hum of conversation. “What do you do for work?”

Y/N froze mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly as all attention turned to her. She quickly chewed harder, trying to swallow without choking, and reached for her glass of water to help wash it down. Setting the glass back down, she gave a sheepish smile.

“Well,” she began, setting her fork aside. “I work at the museum here in London. Actually, I was finishing an orientation there earlier today before I ran into Charlie.”

“A museum?” Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity palpable. “Muggle museums are fascinating, so many exhibits! What do you do there?”

“I’m part of a small team of magical historians,” Y/N explained, her nerves easing under Arthur’s enthusiasm. “We make sure the artifacts No-Majs bring in aren’t cursed or magically significant before they go on display.”

“Like a curse breaker?” Ron asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

Y/N shook her head, smiling. “Not quite. Curse breakers work on a much larger scale. What we do is a lot more focused. We just ensure the items brought in are safe for No-Majs to display and study. If something turns out to be cursed or too dangerous, there’s a separate department that handles it.”

“Sounds like you’re the first line of defense,” Percy remarked, adjusting his glasses. “Cataloging magical artifacts sounds like no small task.”

“It’s definitely detail-oriented,” Y/N agreed. “Most of our job involves identifying enchantments, figuring out their purpose, and determining if they pose any risk. A lot of the time, it’s minor things, like a quill that writes by itself or a mirror that gives overly enthusiastic compliments.”

“Now that’s something I could use.” Fred interjected, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye. 

“For what?” Ginny asked, rolling her eyes. “Inflating your ego even more?”

“Exactly,” George chimed in, grinning. “Fred’s confidence isn’t quite unbearable enough yet.”

The table erupted into laughter, and Y/N couldn’t help but join in, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“Have you ever found something dangerous?” Ron asked, clearly intrigued.

“A few times,” Y/N said, nodding. “We’ve had a cursed necklace that tried to strangle its owner and a painting that screamed whenever someone looked at it. But those cases are rare. Most of the time, it’s harmless, like a clay pot that sings or a book that rewrites itself depending on the reader.”

Arthur’s eyes sparkled with fascination. “Muggles have no idea how extraordinary their world becomes when it overlaps with ours. What do they make of these items?”

“They usually just think they’re quirky or broken,” Y/N said with a small laugh. “It’s amazing how easily people dismiss the magical when they don’t know it exists.”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got a fascinating job, dear,” Molly said warmly, her genuine smile lighting up the cozy dining area. “And an important one. It must feel good knowing you’re helping to preserve history.”

“It really does,” Y/N admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly as she set her fork down. “I’ve always loved history. My dad and I used to go to a different museum every month when I was a kid. He loved them almost as much as I did.” She paused, her eyes softening as she recalled the memories. “There’s this big magical museum in Magical New York kind of like the magical world’s version of the Smithsonian. He took me there when I turned ten, and I think that’s what really sparked my interest in it all.”

“Are both your parents magical?” Ginny asked curiously, her head tilted as she rested her chin on her hand.

Y/N shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. 

“Nah, just my dad. My mum’s a No-Maj. She’s always been supportive, though.” She chuckled, the sound soft and nostalgic. “Dad was the one who taught me all about the magical world. He always said that being a witch meant having one foot in two different worlds, and I should learn to love both.”

“That must have been an interesting way to grow up,” Arthur said, his tone tinged with admiration.

“It was,” Y/N agreed. “I grew up in a small town in Georgia, where magic wasn’t exactly common. Most of my friends were No-Majs, and my mum did her best to keep things as normal as possible. But Dad would sneak in little bits of magic here and there, a charmed broom to help clean the house, enchanted fireworks on birthdays, that kind of thing.”

Fred and George perked up at the mention of enchanted fireworks. “He sounds brilliant,” Fred said. “A man after our own hearts.”

“He really was,” Y/N replied, her smile widening. “He always wanted to visit London, though. It was on his bucket list. He loved everything about British history, both magical and No-Maj.”

“He must be thrilled you’re living here now,” Ginny said, her voice light.

Y/N hesitated, the smile faltering for just a moment. She could picture her father’s gleaming smile, the way his eyes would light up at the news.

“He would have been,” She agreed, a wave of bittersweet sadness washed over her, and she quickly took another bite of her dinner to distract herself, letting the flavors ground her.

“Would have been,” Ron said loudly, his fork clinking against his plate. “What changed?”

“Ron!” Molly chastised sharply, her voice tinged with disapproval. “Mind your manners.”

“No, it’s alright,” Y/N said gently, setting her fork down and taking a breath. “He died just after I graduated from Ilvermorny.”

The room grew quieter, the lively chatter dimming to a soft murmur. The warmth of the room seemed to hold her, a silent show of comfort.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Molly said, her expression filled with understanding as she reached out to pat Y/N’s hand. “Losing a parent is never easy.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, managing a small smile in return. “It was hard, but he always encouraged me to follow my dreams. Moving here felt like a way to honor him, you know? He’d have been over the moon.”

There was a quiet nod of agreement around the table, a small acknowledgment of the weight of her words. 

After a moment, Fred leaned closer, breaking the silence with his usual mischievous tone.

“Well, if your dad was as brilliant as he sounds, then he’d definitely approve of you hanging out with us.”

“Absolutely,” George chimed in. “We’re practically a historical exhibit ourselves. Living legends, really.”

Y/N chuckled, the tension in her chest easing as the table erupted into gentle laughter. Ginny rolled her eyes, and Molly shook her head with a fond smile, but the warmth radiating from the family made Y/N feel a little lighter.

As the conversation shifted and the lively energy returned to the table, Y/N took another bite of her meal, savoring the flavors. 

Slowly, the plates began to clear as Molly stood up from the table, her wand in hand. With a graceful flick, the dirty dishes floated toward the sink, clinking softly as they settled into the soapy water. The warm hum of post-dinner conversation filled the room, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter.

“We made an American delicacy for dessert,” Molly announced proudly, waving her wand once more. A massive apple pie floated to the center of the table, its golden crust perfectly crisp and flaked with sugar. Alongside it appeared an impressive trifle layered with custard, jelly, and whipped cream. Both desserts gleamed under the warm light, looking like they belonged in a wizarding cookbook.

Y/N’s grin widened as Molly handed her a generous helping of pie, the cinnamon-scented steam wafting up to tickle her nose. “This looks amazing,” she said earnestly, her fork already hovering over the plate.

“Careful,” Fred said from across the table, watching her with mock seriousness. “Mum’s desserts are enchanted. One bite and you’ll never want to leave.”

George nodded solemnly, a spoonful of trifle halfway to his mouth. “Happened to us. We were going to move out years ago, but she keeps us trapped here with puddings and pies.”

“Honestly, I don’t see the downside,” Y/N quipped, taking her first bite. The warm, gooey filling and buttery crust melted on her tongue, and her eyes closed in bliss.

“See?” Fred gestured dramatically to George. “She’s already under the spell!”

–

After dinner, Y/N wandered about the Burrow, her curiosity drawing her to every quirky detail of the cozy, mismatched house. The air smelled faintly of wood smoke and baked goods, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the rooms. Family photographs in animated frames waved at her from the walls, and a few stray knitting needles clattered away in the corner, working on a scarf of their own accord.

She stopped in front of a tall, old clock that sat proudly in one corner of the living room. At first glance, she thought it was just another whimsical wizarding relic, but upon closer inspection, she realized the clock didn’t display the time at all. Instead, its hands, each labeled with a family member's name, pointed to various locations: Home, School, Work, and Bed. All the hands currently rested on Home, except for one, which pointed to Bed.

“Who’s in bed at this hour?” Y/N mused aloud, leaning in to examine the name on the errant hand.

“Bill,” came a voice directly in her left ear.

“He’s our oldest brother,” added a voice in her right.

Y/N startled slightly, spinning to find Fred and George standing on either side of her, identical smirks plastered across their freckled faces. 

“Do you two always pop up out of nowhere?” she asked, laughing despite herself.

“Part of our charm,” Fred said with a wink.

“I haven’t met him, have I?” she asked, pointing at the clock.

“Nope,” George replied, popping the p for emphasis. “Bill’s a busy bee.”

“Probably for the best, though,” Fred added, crossing his arms. “We wouldn’t stand a chance if he were here.”

“Why not?” Y/N asked, her brows furrowing.

“Because,” Fred said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, “all the witches go crazy for him. They think he’s all cool and mysterious.”

“But really,” George interjected with a grin, “he’s just a massive nerd.”

Y/N chuckled, glancing back at the clock. “He’s the curse breaker, right?”

“Yep,” George said. “Used to work in Egypt, raiding tombs and dodging deadly curses.”

Fred leaned in conspiratorially. “But he traded all that in for nappies and bedtime stories when Victoire was born.”

“Victoire?” Y/N asked.

“Our niece,” George explained. “Mum’s first grandchild. Total scene-stealer.”

Fred nodded solemnly. “Mum cried for two days when she was born. It was very dramatic.”

“Not as dramatic as when George sat on a toy broomstick last Christmas and broke it,” Fred teased.

“That was a faulty broom, and you know it!” George shot back, narrowing his eyes.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head at the antics. “Well, now I’m curious to meet this infamous Bill,” she said.

“Careful what you wish for,” Fred warned. “If you’re not careful, you might fall under his nerdy spell too.”

“Unlikely,” Y/N shot back with a grin. “I’m more interested in the clock. Do you think it could tell me where my lost socks are?”

“Not a chance,” George said. “That’s advanced magic. Even Dad hasn’t cracked the sock mystery.”

Fred sighed wistfully. “One day, though. One day.”

[talxe]

Reading the Iliad, Book 9 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

Here's the thing with Achilles. It is not enough for him to know he's the best, everyone else has to know it too, BUT even that's not enough. They cannot ever forget it AND they have to worship him for it. AND that's his fucking problem Achilles is SICK okay????😭

Like wtf

LITERALLY, no one is still upset abt what happened between Achilles and Agamemnon except Achilles.

Anyway Agamemnon summons all the important ppl on the Greek side, (Nestor, Odysseus, ppl like that)

Once they all get there Agamemnon starts bawling his little Greek eyes out bc shit is looking bleak

So Agamemnon says "fuck it, let's go home NOW."

Diomedes is like "Look man you've been kinda pissy at me buuuut ur a good leader or whatever so I think there's still a chance for the odds to be in our favor, but go home ig bc me and my men are staying until Troy falls."

Diomedes how does it feel to be Homer's fav??

Nestor decides they just need to make it through the night bc the Trojans are so close to their camp that they're neighbors atp

Nestor sits Agamemnon down and goes "What you did to Achilles was actually not cool and we really need him rn so you need to make things right."

AND AGAMEMNON actually agrees????? I still don't like him but this was super mature of him. It seems like despite his temper even he knows when he's in the wrong, unlike some other people.

Agamemnon lists off A BUNCH of shit that he's going to give Achilles. I started smiling bc the list just kept going.

He offers his own daughter for marriage, 7 women from lesbos, 20 Trojan women, and all the treasure his ships could carry. (there's more but this is the more important.)

Plus Berseis

Agamemnon says he'll swear an oath that he never slept with Berseis too.

Achilles gets all of this if he stops being angry and fights

So Ody, Ajax(Greater), Phoenix, and two heralds go to speak with Achilles

Achilles and Patroclus are just chilling as Achilles plays his stupid ass lyre

Patroclus mentioned♥️♥️♥️

When they see the group approaching, Achilles stands up and says "Omg I really missed up guys lol."

Like bro....

PEOPLE ARE DYING???

Achilles and Patroclus play host for the group and they all eat.

Achille is really happy to see his friends

So Odysseus starts trying to convince Achilles to re-join the fight

Achilles starts ranting abt how he's done everything but Agamemnon keeps the lions share of what they bring back

Then he goes on to talk abt how he loves Berseis only for her to be snatched away

Basically, he says no and then Achilles says "I will leave at first light."

KNOWING DAMN WELL HE'S NOT GONNA LEAVE. STOP LYING

Achilles is so weird to me. You're not going to accept the gifts, you're not going to leave, but you're going to fight either??? WHAT DO YOU WANT THEN???? He's sulking like a child

Then Achilles says "I don't want his shitty gifts and even if his daughters rivaled Aphrodite in looks I still wouldn't want them, and he can keep Berseis."

...........hello???

Phoenix starts trauma dumping but he tells Achilles that he's being disrespectful.

I think Phoenix tells the story (you know the one) of Meleager and Cleopatra. and Achilles is like "okay be quiet."

The group goes to leave, and Ody says that it's silly Achilles is doing this all over one woman.

But at this point it's not abt Berseis anymore and I don't think it ever was.

Achilles tells them that he won't fight until Hector gets so close that he's up their asses

I love finding out why Achilles is an asshole

[athenasplan]

I was trying to map out what I think the next episodes will look like and honestly there are so many ways things could go, predicting even how many episodes we have left feels impossible, but of one thing I am sure.

there will be 20 to 40 minutes during wich every player will play every single one of their characters and it will be glorious

[sugarsnappeases]

thank you for the tag @fxreflyes this is so cute, except the format is trying to hinder my propensity to ramble, so i’ve rectified this in the tags lmao

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

no pressure tags for @static-radio-ao3 @inevitablestars @itsjaywalkers @carniferous @orbitfalls @transsexualpriest @futurequibblerjournalist <333

[ut-scatteredextension]

Do you have any regrets?

"NOPE!!!! EVERYTHING IS GREAT! BECAUSE I AM GREAT!!! AND SO IS EVERYTHING I DO!!"

[llycaons]

Lan Zhan's been very busy. The Lan enterprise is opening another branch, but they ran into some rather disastrous difficulties and fixing it takes all of Lan Zhan's time. Wei Ying understands. He gives his boyfriend the needed space. But it has led to weeks and weeks of Wei Ying having dinner all by himself. Watching movies on the sofa, snuggled in the blanket instead of Lan Zhan's arms. Even the sex, which now happens rarely, is quick and more to satisfy each other's physical urges than the emotional need for closeness.

'enterprises' is he a fucking businessman. is lwj neglecting wwx to work on business shit. omg. ngl this entire setup feels like the author is making wwx out to be a neglected stay at home wife whose emotionally distant husband works all the time. doing the dishes, making dinner, associated only with domesticity, crying silently in the kitchen while packing up another meal his busy bf refused to join him for. this is unfortunately a pretty common theme for bad wx works

Done with the dishes, he heads to the bedroom, takes a quick shower and slips into his pyjama bottoms. He brushes his teeth and looks up into the mirror. His face seems pale in the harsh lights of the bathroom, silver eyes reddened.

SILVER EYES. I wonder if I could fill out a bingo board with wx fic cliches with this one

[moonfurthetemmie]

I hope one day I have the will to practice drawing and git gud so I can make some evil little bastards kiss after trying to beat the shit out of each other. Because there’s only so much you can do with words

…especially when you have not ever kissed anyone and all your knowledge comes from bad fics written by other people who have (likely) never kissed anyone

[s-soulwriter]

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[reignpage]

Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye. 

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines. 

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face. 

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to be balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great. 

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and making sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you. 

It’s fine. 

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that. 

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring, obnoxiously loud. It’s like he's suddenly realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the mornings that’s always greener than the last. 

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack when it’s not from you. 

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say as if you’re yapping right in his ear. 

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake as fuck. What was the fucking budget for this shit?”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways? 

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye nowadays. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up. 

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that. 

Instead, he eats on the sofa or in his car.

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question. 

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

He gets two nights of decent sleep after that.

But then…

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood. 

But what they don’t know is that you texted, just a day before you’re set to come back, to let him know you’re staying another week. 

Fucking texted. 

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice. 

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out. 

Everyone knows he’s losing his mind. They can tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he’s started snapping at women who are either flirting or just doing their jobs. And sometimes they even have to block his view of couples practising PDA. That’s the closest to hell they ever want to get around Toji. Suddenly, everyone’s hoping you throw the guy a bone and send a nude or something. Literally anything to rein him back in.

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home. 

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh. 

The door handle rattles. 

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing. 

You’re here. 

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble. 

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute. 

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat. 

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion. 

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason from keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No. 

It can’t be. 

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure. 

Toji missed you. 

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better. 

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you. 

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts. 

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home. 

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.” 

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says, 

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you. 

[deathbxnny]

Arcane women accidentally confessing to you. | Sevika, Jinx, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

This is very self-indulgent, so enjoy.<3

Content: pre-season 2 because I want to be happy rn, slight angst if you squint, fluff, accidental confessions, maybe ooc??, cursing, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》SEVIKA

She was resting at the last drop with you during some downtime in between missions. One hand lingered on your hip whilst her metallic one held onto her cigar, eyes focused on the pocker game she was playing with a couple of Silco's other henchmen. She always kept you close this way, a clear sign of who you belonged to despite never having said a word about it yet. It was a mutual understanding only you could have, and so she didn't think a confession was necessary.

Until today, it seemed.

You were secretly helping her cheat a little and eventually told her the winning move, which earned her a large sum of money. Letting out a smug laugh at everyone's angered and defeated glares, she gave you a lazy grin. "Thanks, sweetheart. This is why I love you." She hummed to you, smoke exhaling from her dark lips, before she froze ever so slightly. Well, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise to either of you, and yet she couldn't help but chuckle at your own stunned face.

Looking at the men around her, she threw some poker chips towards them, clearly asking for another round. She wasn't the type to get flustered or shy anyways, so her moving on like nothing happened was on brand.

The only acknowledgment you got, however, was the hand on your hip tightening.

》JINX

She has a hard time hiding her feelings for you due to her rather energetic and extremely clingy nature. But there is still a clear distance between you two that she's too scared to cross. It was a deep fear of ruining everything she had with you in case her confession went wrong. She'd rather you consider her your best friend for life if it meant for you to stay at her side. She didn't want to lose more people after all. And yet, as fate has it, she eventually lost herself in a good and happy moment with you.

You were tinkering on some projects in her hideout whilst listening to music. Her head was leaning against your shoulder as her eyes traced your focused gaze. Jinx felt so content and at peace in that moment that she couldn't stop the words that spilled out of her mouth. "I love you." It took her a second to realise what happened, and her body was quick to flinch away from you. You kept her in place, however, with a free hand placed against her head. "Hey, it's okay. I love you too. I'm not leaving." You reassured her quickly with a smile, one that made her heart skip a beat.

She may not see herself as deserving of you, but she's glad to have you at her side anyway. Hopefully forever.

》CAITLYN

Caitlyn was good at hiding her emotions from you. In fact, she had refused to tell you in fear of breaking the professionalism you two had and, most importantly, your friendship that she cherished deeply. And so, she was very careful not to reveal a single thing... until her confidence betrayed her and caused her to slip up.

You two were reviewing a new case together, and whilst she wasn't paying attention, she accidentally slid you her diary over. It unfortunately looked too similar to her work notebook, something she only realised the moment you opened it and froze in surprise. She may have scribbled your name all over it. She may have childishly drawn hearts around your name. She may have made it awfully clear that she loved you. And it made her wonder if there was a god out there that hated her deeply.

"... My apologies. Please ignore that-" "-Haha, I'm so relieved that I'm not the only one who did this!" You let out a soft laugh before pulling out your notebook and showing her similar pages to her own, just with her name written all over them. Her face was flushed from how flustered and embarrassed she was, but alas, she too couldn't help and chuckle at how silly this all was. At least you felt the same.

》VI

It's not like she didn't want to confess her feelings to you. She just didn't know how! Her confession should sweep you right off your feet in her mind, and yet nothing she came up with seemed good enough. Vi hoped that her flirting would get the point across, but she lacked the confidence to go any further than compliments. She just didn't want you to think differently of her and therefore kept her distance for the most part regarding the subject. That is if she could keep it in for lobger than she already has. She always felt so strongly about others, after all.

So, during a little hang out session in a bar somewhere in Zaun, she attempted to find the courage to tell you how she felt. Whilst she went off to go and get you a drink first, however, a drunken man showed up at your side and started flirting you in a rather uncomfortable way. You tried making it clear that you weren't interested, but as he went to grab your arm, a hand slammed in between you two onto the bar table. "Hey, I think they told you no, asshole." "Who the hell are you?" The man barked back, yet Vi didn't back down and simply blocked you from his view with her body. "I'm their girlfriend, now fuck off." She hissed, and the man just rolled his eyes before walking off grumbling.

Silence filled the space in between you two until you chuckled softly. "Girlfriend, huh? I like the sound of that." You hummed, secretly trying to ease her embarrassed mind, that quickly recovered at your words with a sly grin. "You do?" You mirrored her smile with a nod. "Very much so. I'm glad we think alike."

[euthymiya]

Sukuna who was never close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.