#and possibly things that only I will notice

[21st-century-minutiae]

MS Paint is a late twentieth century, early twenty-first century free image creation and modification application that is included by default with the Microsoft Operating System. It provides extremely limited options for image modification compared to more sophisticated options.

For example, the ability to work with layers (independent, transparent images stacked on top of one another) was not added until 2023. Almost every other image editing software supported this feature which is of great value to digital artists. The above artwork thus preceded this particular development, meaning it would have been a lot more difficult to create the image.

The context of the media (MS Paint) makes the image itself a greater demonstration of skill. In the early twenty-first century, people generally appreciate obvious skill as a component in aesthetics independent from the actual product. It serves as a shorthand for time spent, both in learning the skill itself and in creating the result. Artwork that is not visibly difficult to make is held with some scorn by those who cannot tell its labor.

ms paint study from 2021

[bbokicidal]

But What Do I Know? | SKZ [Virgin!OT8]

Just some odd headcanons I've got regarding Virgin!SKZ. Some things I think they're into, how they behave as virgins, etc. But again, what do I know?~

Members are grouped into categories for these headcanons.

Warnings: 18+ Content; Oral sex, fingering, spitting/spit mentioned, dry grinding/humping, cum, makeouts, biting

NSFW Masterlist | SFW Masterlist

Group Number One : The 'I swear I didn't know it would happen!' Boys [The Pants Cummers]

Virgin!Minho swears on his life - to himself, of course - that he WILL NOT come in his pants the first time the two of you have a heavy makeout session - but it happens anyways. And he realizes after that, that he kind of.. likes it? He learns if he grinds on you a little he also gets the friction from his jeans and that helps him come even faster. Forget being put down because he reaches his high in just a few minutes - he's trying to makeout with you as long as possible to see how many times he can come.

Virgin!Jisung is WILDLY embarrassed when it happens, until he realizes you never noticed. Even if he'd gotten all blubbery and started to whimper in nervousness, you'd though he was just enjoying himself and whining into your mouth because he was happy. But then he excused himself to the bathroom to clean up and took nearly half an hour, his ears still beet red when he returned to you. You'd asked what happened and when he was honest, you reassured him it was fine that it happened - and that you thought it was kind of hot. Now, he lets it happen to please you because he knows you like it - which makes him love it even more.

Virgin!Jeongin isn't really sure what happened the first time. He was making out with you, you were on top of him - and then his thighs were trembling and you were sitting up in shock. As soon as he realizes he'd just nutted in his boxers, he's flushed in the neck and chest with embarrassment. How did that happen - WHY did that happen? He's all whiny and whispering about how he's so so sorry that he'd just done that with you on top of him. But when you shush him and whisper that it's okay while kissing his neck and tugging his collar down to mark him up, he'd begun to think maybe it wasn't that bad. And if you kept kissing him like that it was definitely going to happen again.

Group Number Two : The Masters with their Hands

Virgin!Chris doesn't really have full confidence in himself when he slips a hand in your panties for the first time, but he'd done as much research as he possibly could before his date with you earlier that night so he was sure he'd be fine. And his confidence only raised after you let your head tip back and moaned out his name. He'd let out a sigh as he pushed two fingers into your warmth, new to the feeling of being inside of you but enjoying it nonetheless. And your reactions, your whining of how much you loved his hands and how big his knuckles are, how good they feel on your walls - Yeah, he's a bit cocky after that and no longer worried about if he'll be able to please you.

Virgin!Hyunjin knows what he's doing in theory - not in practice. He did no research but it can't be that hard; and for him, it's not. It seems to come to him naturally (after you having to guide his thumb to where your clit actually is), with his middle and ring fingers pushing deep into your pussy until your thighs were quivering against his hips. He's a master at multitasking, able to rub your clit with his thumb and pump his fingers into you almost too quickly too well. And all while hovering above you, biting his lip and looking so good, too? Almost a bit mean of him to be this pretty and talented in bed.

Virgin!Seungmin really only is good at this because he plays games on PC. He's use to clicking the keys quickly, using multiple fingers at once - so you'd best bet he's good at fucking his fingers into you so quick it's got you nearly crying against the sheets. Also another who's good at multitasking - again, because of gaming - but it's with his other hand this time. And his mouth. He'll lean down to suck on your clit, fuck two or three fingers into you, and reach up to grope and tug at your chest with what feels like practiced (even though it's not) ease. Also mean in bed but.. in a different way. ;]

Group Number Three : The 'I can't help it' Boys [The Bed Humpers]

Virgin!Changbin swears that he didn't even realize he was grinding against the mattress while making out with you until he was making a mess on the sheets. Usually it's you he teases about your orgasm hitting early or the way your legs tremble in need when he sucks on your chest during heavier makeout sessions. But this time? This time it was him being teased, plump cheeks rosy pink and eyes darting over the sheets where pre had leaked from his tip and smeared on the mint of your bed. He's pouty, swearing up and down he didn't realize he had done that, before being welcomed back into your waiting arms with a shy smile. He waits until he has your reassurance that it's okay and it's nothing to be embarrassed about before he lets it happen again - and even blushes and gets shy when you ask him a few weeks later why he isn't humping the blankets while he sucks on your neck and chest. You think it's cute - and he's happy to please.

Virgin!Felix is.. kind of shameless about it. He's happy to let you know he's into you by touching and kissing and whatever - but he's a little too shy, and inexperienced, to even think about grinding on you. Your hips? His hips? Not connecting just yet. He's waaaay too shy to do anything like that. But he does want the friction, does crave the touch and grind of it all, so he'll go for the next best thing - laying between your legs while he kisses you all nice and slow in the early morning and rolling his hips down against the mattress. The feeling of his pajama pants rubbing on his cock is perfect, and the stiffness of the mattress... It's enough to satisfy him without getting too touchy with you just yet. And you seem to find it cute, too, that he humps the mattress all shy and sweet. If he notices you looking or watching he'll probably stop but any other time he's happy to keep going. Though there have been a few times he's gotten closer and humped your thigh instead. Not that you were complaining.

Group Number Four : The '*moans while neck deep in pussy*' Boys [The Messy Eaters]

Virgin!Hyunjin looooooves eating pussy. It's his favorite past time actually. Not busy? He's on his knees between your legs while you watch a show. Getting ready for sexy time? He's on his knees at the end of the bed waiting. Getting home from work? He's kissing you in the doorway and pinning you there so he can go down on you right away and relieve any stress. Honestly just a househusband with a nasty mouth who CANNOT keep his spit in it. It's like he's feral, almost. The type of guy who growls when you try to pull away or who bites at your thighs, nipping at your clit when you squirm too much. Again, so inexperienced that he's honestly not super great at eating you out - but does his best and is more than enough to please, at the cost of spit dripping down his chin and your thighs.

Virgin!Jisung. I've said it before, I'm saying it again!! Jisung likes to eat you out but really only when it's something casual and lazy. At first he was SO nervous because he was afraid he'd mess up or be bad at it - but then he realized, you're.. pretty chill about it all. You'll be on your phone and he'll be between your legs, sucking on your clit and dragging his tongue through your folds like you're the sweetest ice cream he's ever tasted. He's sweet when he eats you out and he's really careful about it, but he's.. drooling everywhere. Maybe even builds up the courage to spit on it if he thinks you're not paying attention, only to apologize and giggle when you flinch in surprise.

If y'all want a part two let me know - I have like 4-5 other groups already written in my notes lol.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[mimikyusrealform]

globalization

Spencer Reid x Reader. Word Count: 3703. Summary: Three times you leave Spencer speechless, and one time he leaves you speechless. Notes and Warnings: Set during S1 at the beginning, and then at S2. Mention of Somebody's Watching and North Mammon. There's a misogynistic comment, but it's quickly dealt with.

1.

The rivalry started innocuous enough. Three months after Dr. Spencer Reid joined the BAU, you were recruited as well. Fresh out of the academy and without a prebuilt rapport with the rest of the team, you felt out of place. They listened to your suggestions, but after a week and a half, it was like they were still teaching you the ropes, coddling you. Hotch didn’t even let you go out in the field. This piling dissatisfaction reached its culmination without warning.

“C’mon now,” Morgan said one day. You didn’t even remember what led to the following statement, but you remembered the phrase that started the domino effect. “Robberies have been declining since last year.”

“The robbery rate declined last year,” you corrected him as you skimmed through your oddly small workload for the day. They weren’t working on any cases. “It’s been declining since 1986, but it’s possible that the rate will increase this year in comparison to last year’s, which was at an all-time low, at 137.”

“136.7,” Dr. Reid corrected you from his own desk. He had already finished half of his work. “That is given a population of 293,656,842.” He looked at you and Morgan. “Did you know that the U.S Census Bureau estimates the population as of July 1 for each year? Except when it's a decennial census count, like 2000.”

It took Dr. Reid a whole minute to notice your glare. What a genius. He looked as if he was panicking a bit, and his gaze drifted between you and Morgan. He seemed to be begging with his eyes for Morgan to, somehow, reveal to him the secrets of the universe and what he should do to stop your glaring. But Morgan was not a pious entity, and he turned around, suddenly blind. It took Dr. Reid another minute to figure out why you were killing him in your head.

“I—I mean, you round up from 5, so 137 is accurate,” he rectified, staring back at you, like you were the abyss and he, the hero who needed to face it.

You stayed silent for a while. And then, you said, “That's dumb. The rate was 136.7. Sigh. I thought you were a genius, Dr. Reid, how could you even suggest that the rate was 137? Maybe you should check if you need to reinstall the eidetic memory package.”

Morgan made a sound that was between a dog barking out a laugh and a dog choking on its bone. But it was Dr. Reid's perplexed expression what you burned in your memory.

It wasn't your fault, really, that your antagonistic nature decided to pursue a war with the resident genius of the team. If you were to bluff in case of being questioned why you were so adamant in aggravating Dr. Spencer Reid in any way you could, you would say, “complacency is the enemy of natural selection and I'm truly benevolent—so I'm making the Doctor a favor by keeping him on his toes.” The truth was, Dr. Spencer Reid's geeky enthusiasm and nerdy rambles had charmed you. While you weren't on the same level as him when it came to intelligence—your latest IQ test had put you around 137, and that was knowing the common patterns the test tended to use—you had a knack for deconstructing things. When you were 8, you couldn't finish a Rubik cube for the life of you, but when you broke it down to its simpler parts, you found a way to solve it after learning how the core mechanism worked.

Antagonizing was how you dealt with your crushes. All the crushes you ever had, you actively treated them as if they were your mortal enemies. In a sense, they were. Understandably, none of them ever liked you, and you couldn't blame them. But, for some reason, the idea of Dr. Spencer Reid not returning your affections was—troubling, to say the least. And that only made you pricklier.

2.

Lila Archer was not an enemy but a victim with very poor timing. You draped a towel around her febrile shoulders, and patted her back in an ode to comfort. Then, you went out of the house to deal with your real foe. Dr. Spencer Reid was still trying to dry himself with a pathetically small cloth. In another occasion, it would have made you laugh. But you were, at loss of a better word, jealous. How shameful was that? You hadn’t been jealous since Nathaniel Sterling, your crush in tenth grade, started dating Rose Harding, the cloistered girl who ruined your straight-A-record in Math because you were paired with her during one assignment.

You had the bad habit of swallowing the acid that dripped from your own soul and regurgitating it when you were alone. For now, you compartmentalized. Weirdly enough, you found yourself feeling tired, instead of murderous. You understood, then, how having a crush on someone didn’t compare to being in love.

A crush was a candle in the wind; being in love was a fire in a forest.

The color of the night sky, that reflected on the blue water, covered the world of depth and beyond all bounds. Even the air was blue; it bit your skin. Or maybe it was your own feelings that prickled down your spine. If porcupines did mate for life, they would be the most tender lovers in the world, you thought. The prickliest beings loved carefully and purposefully.

Only after Elle left his side, did you approach. Though the look she gave you was too perceptive for your liking. “I didn’t know kissing with the girl you’re supposed to be protecting from her stalker was part of the protocol. Please, forward me the exact article that describes the effectiveness of French kisses as a method of protection against erotomaniacs.”

He tried to ignore your wording, but his ears were red, and so were his cheeks, despite the fact the air had cooled the water clinging to his clothes. “I, uh, I fell in,” was all he could muster given the fact you had a gun, a motive and a cold heart.

“I see,” you nodded. “That’s what tends to happen when you pool your women.”

“I don’t pool my women! I-I don’t even—I don’t even have women.”

“Relax, Doctor, you won’t drown. If you know how to two-stroke, two-timing should come naturally to you.”

Dr. Reid made a pitiful sound when he realized there was no winning against you.

“She kissed me first,” he said.

“Maybe you deserved it.”

“Don’t make it sound like a punishment.”

“I’m not.” You were sincere.

3.

You were pretty good at remaining unmovable, and you were proud of that. But—this guy. This guy.

“All I did was show them who they really are,” he was saying with that stupid self-satisfied smile. “What they were truly capable of. People pretending to be decent. When it came down to it, they… They reacted just the way I knew they would.”

“Is that so,” you couldn’t help but interrupt his little monologue. Gideon looked at you from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t try to stop you. “Congratulations. Be proud of discovering the sky is blue for the rest of your life, I commiserate you; it must have been so hard for you. Do you really think you’re a mastermind for this?” His smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a glare directed towards you. “If you starve a dog, are you a genius for knowing the dog will end up becoming aggressive? But then, that’s a Nobel-worthy dissertation for someone so simpleminded like you.”

He started to say something, voice shaking from barely contained rage, but you were already leaving the basement. He yelled after you. You couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in your ears.

In the plane, you were shutting down the world around you by pretending to read a Russian Copy of The Brothers Karamazov. You didn’t speak Russian. That was—until Reid sat in front of you. He didn’t speak for a moment, just observed you. You flipped five pages before he finally said,

“Are you okay?”

“What an unpleasant question,” you replied. He kept looking at you, which annoyed you because it made your stomach twist. “I suppose. That guy got on my nerves.”

“I thought you didn’t have nerves,” he said. “I mean… you always act as if you’re untouched by the world.”

“I try my utmost not to be perceived. The world is a scary place, after all.”

“It is scary,” he agreed. “But, scary—how? How does someone like you find the world to be scary?”

You put your book down on your lap. “Full of people.” You twirled a strand of hair around your index finger. “And what I hate most are the people who lie to themselves. That guy—lied to himself that he was right. He decided to believe other people were his enemies instead of realizing… realizing he was his own worst enemy.”

It wasn’t without tact—though it startled you all the same—when he said, “Sounds a bit like you.”

“Oh, right.” You supposed it was a fair assessment; you never gave him any indication that you actually didn’t see him as enemy. You acted like you did, after all. Maybe he really believed you hated him. So, “I don’t hate you. If I was smart, I would go as far as to say that I like you.”

You watched him freeze for a split of a second before his face turned red, like a M-class star. It gave you terrible ideas and horrible impulses. You couldn’t help but reach for his glasses, and—gently push them up the bridge of his nose. Your index finger brushed against his skin. His face went a class up in the Morgan-Keenan classification.

“But you are smart,” he managed to choke out. “Very smart.”

“What are you implying?”

He couldn’t answer, and you returned to your book, a bit disappointed, maybe. You had thought he was ready to give in. You still couldn’t read a single word. Reid must have noticed because he ended up prying the book from your hands, and began reading out loud, just for you, just for your enjoyment. It was enough.

+1.

“Kid,” Morgan called as he slid in the seat next to him. “Seriously, when are you gonna ask her out? Save the rest of us from her pining.”

Spencer frowned. “Ask who out?”

He was only half listening, but when Morgan said your name, he spluttered. “What?!” He lowered his tone after that voice break. “Morgan, are you crazy? She hates my guts.”

Morgan looked incredibly amused. “No, she doesn't. She's just pulling your hair. And, if she actually hated you, well, I don't think I need to remind you what happened to Officer Harrison. I really wish I had been there to see it.”

Spencer almost smiled at the memory. A few months back, a case had brought them to Texas when the local police discovered two independent pairs of hands scattered across their state line. The second in command, Officer Harrison, had been a flagrant misogynistic and a stereotypical macho-man.

“But what does cutting the hands-off mean?” Officer Harrison had asked.

JJ, you and him were the only ones from the team still in the bullpen.

Hotch did trust you with fieldwork, but he found that you and Spencer were an especially good match, so he mostly paired the two of you together. You bounced off each other’s ideas with an uncanny synergy.

Before he could ramble off, you beat him to it, “The ancient Greek sometimes mutilated the body of their victim. There's a theory that says that the mutilation of the body corresponded to the mutilation of the soul, so that the shade, without limbs, couldn't enact vengeance over the killer. Maybe the Unsub’s superstitious and believes that by cutting off their hands he’s saving himself from their ghosts.”

Officer Harrison had looked at you, before dragging his gaze up and down your body. He had mainly interacted with Morgan and Hotch, sometimes himself; and almost none with you, JJ and Emily. Then, he whistled sarcastically. “That's very impressive, darlin'. I didn't take you for the smart type. No offense, but you don't look like it.”

Rage was born in the pit of the stomach, Spencer found out that day. It rendered him immobile for a moment, and before he could tell the officer off, you beat him to it, again. Intelligence wasn’t quantifiable, he knew this. But you always managed to prove it to him. Some tests might say he was several points smarter than you, but you were two steps ahead of him, every single time.

From the corner of his eye, he could see JJ’s appalled expression. He wondered how his own face looked.

“Oh,” you had said. “Looks can be deceiving. It's alright. No offense taken. I myself was deceived by your looks—I thought you were a conventionally ugly man, maybe even a rare ugliness, but you're actually a piece of shit in human form. Tell me, did the doctor perform a colonoscopy on your mother to find out if she was pregnant, as opposed to an ultrasound?”

JJ's lips were pulled inwards in a tight, flat grimace, as if she was trying and failing to stifle her laughter, and Spencer found himself playing side-eye ping-pong between you and Officer Harrison.

“Why, you bit—” Officer Harrison stammered, face growing a tint of red and fists comically clenched.

“Jonathan,” Sheriff Mendoza had interjected then, sternly. “Why don't you take a walk? Go on, get some air.”

Officer Harrison looked as if he was going to self-combust from how ruddy his face was and how sweat accrued on his temple. His shoulders were trembling when he attempted to storm out. He seemed ready to shoulder-check you, but you put a hand on his chest and held him in place.

“Officer Harrison. Harrison. Jonathan? Johnny? Johnny, by all means, please underestimate me again,” you told him lowly. “It'll make the look on your face when I ruin your life funnier.”

With that, you finally let him go, and he bulldozed his way out of the bullpen. You could practically hear his teeth grinding.

“... I'm sorry for him,” Sheriff Mendoza had offered awkwardly, a deep sigh pulled out of his chest.

You had shrugged. “Natural selection will do its work.”

Spencer thought you had never looked lovelier than in that moment.

He shook his head to clear the memory away. “Maybe she doesn't hate my guts,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I'm still his least favorite person here.”

“Wow,” Morgan said exaggeratedly. “For a genius, you can be stupid sometimes. She clearly likes you, man. Look, tell you what, the next time she picks up a fight with you, tell her this: ‘you are hot when you're talking about statistics’.” He was laughing by the end of it while Spencer choked with his own saliva. “She'll love it, I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” he replied. “She's so emotionally repressed and so unapologetically herself, I don't think anything I do will ever get a real reaction out of her.”

“Trust me on this one, kid,” was all Morgan said with a pat to his back.

Spencer spent the rest of the day thinking about his words. When he first met you, you had offered him a handshake like most other people. He rambled his well-practiced explanation, “A study shows that the number of organisms, both pathogenic and non-pathogenic, that are passed during handshakes is staggering. Kissing is actually more sanitary than handshakes.” But instead of looking at him like he was a weirdo, you had stared at him, unshakeable, and replied,

“I can say ‘a study shows that shooting yourself in the head is an efficient way to de-stress’, but if I don't say what study it is, then does the study really exist?”

That was the first time his heart lurched in your presence. When he spoke again, his voice was a bit breathless, “Uh, it's a study published in The Public Health Journal, by H. W. Hill and Helen M. Matthews. Volume 17, number 7, July, 1927, I-I mean, 1926. It's titled Transfer of Infection by Handshakes. Pages 347 to 352. I-I can get you a copy of it.”

You blinked at him, but he didn't feel as if you thought he was a freak. He felt like you were amazed by him. It brought his heart to his throat.

“Is that so,” you had said. “Then, I expect it to be delivered at my doorstep at 5 o'clock sharp, tomorrow. Military time.”

He had been stunned into silence for a few seconds. “That's... unreasonable. I don't even know where you live.”

You said, “It's quite standard.”

“Then you have unreasonable standards.”

“I've been told.”

Spencer had thought you and him would become something like best friends. For the first week and a half, you had been quite friendly with him, and often listened to his rambles. But then, then he had made the terrible mistake of correcting an innocuous error you made regarding a statistic, and the look you had shot at him could have curled water. From that point on, you seemed to have made it your life mission to fight him at any chance.

And yet—he never got the feeling you did it out of malice. He thought you did hate him on some level, but when you argued against his points during a case, there was a glint in your eye. Like you were still amazed by him. Sometimes, you even finished his rambles when he couldn't land them. Sometimes, you were the only one who listened to him when he sidetracked. To him, you defined the wonder of globalization. When you were there, it was like talking to the stars, and having the stars answering him back in perplexing, secret ways. He kind of figured this out when you smiled at his existentialist joke. You told him it wasn't funny, but your eyes were bright.

Maybe trying Morgan's advice wouldn't go so bad.

If only you weren’t so prickly. And clever and quick, he added in his head, just in case you were hearing his thoughts. He wouldn’t put it past your abilities. For three weeks, Spencer hadn’t managed yet to seize a situation in which Morgan’s advice worked at his favor. It wasn’t until the team, you and him included, obviously, went out for drinks that he finally got his chance.

“You aren’t drinking?” he asked you. You were cradling a Virgin Margarita in your hands, and for a moment he wished your fingers were curled around his own instead of the glass.

“No,” you said. “You’re clearly the best in the profiling game. Take pride on this display of your observational skills for the rest of your life.”

He sighed. You were impossible. Still, he couldn’t keep the fondness out of his voice when he said, “You don’t have to be so defensive with me.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, and he arched an eyebrow. “I have to be especially defensive with you.”

“That’s not… that’s not what I meant,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Why do you have to, uh, be ‘especially’ defensive with me?”

You didn’t answer him. But he knew you couldn’t go without having the last word, so he patiently waited for you to gather a satisfactorily poignant response. In the meantime, he took the time to examine your face; there was a quality to it he would never find a perfect word to describe it. Maybe it was your supraorbital ridge, or your posterior zygomatic arch, or even the vertical length of your forehead. He just knew you were lovely. He had never been comfortable with not knowing something, but with you, he didn’t need to know. He would rather discover you, if you would let him. If you were full of secrets, he would work them out; if he only found hatred for him, he would press his mouth to it and relish in it.

“Because you have a BA in Psychology,” you ended up saying, stoic as ever, “and I’m a soft girl with mental health issues.”

He laughed. It took him a lot of time to figure out that—the more matter-of-factly you said something, the less serious you were. Your lips quirked up in a little smile, and you sipped your drink. The rest of the team—besides Hotch—hadn’t yet realized your tell-tale sign.

The words escaped him before he could think them over, “You’re cute when you pretend to be emotionless.”

Your facial expression didn’t change, and that was alright, because when you turned your head to the side—he could clearly see the faint blush on your cheekbones. “Fool.”

Ah, he realized. I won. You were at a loss of words. Because of him.

“You know, the word ‘fool’ comes from Old French fol, which means ‘madman, insane person’ and ‘idiot, jester’, and fol is from Medieval Latin follus, adjective for ‘foolish’. The evolution of its meaning can probably be attributed to the use of follis in a sense of ‘empty-headed person’. The word was also used in Middle English for ‘sinner, rascal, impious person’. It actually must have been passed to the English language via its borrowing in the Scandinavian language of the Vikings. And did you know that the association between April 1 and foolishness in Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales could have been a copying error and...”

You didn’t look at him as he continued going on his tangent, but he knew that you were listening intently. Because your body was angled towards him, even if you kept your face away from his gaze, and when he took a pause to breathe, you hummed in acknowledgment only for his ears.

Globalization was saying hello and someone answering hola from miles away.

But you didn’t need to answer him for Spencer to understand you were in love with him and he was in love with you.

[keferon]

At the off chance I haven't gotten flagged as a robot again for hanging out in the void for too long-

A lil' drabble for your Mecha Pilot AU!

I bummed myself out thinking about a clueless Prowl and his bacteria boyfriend's enevetable, fast aproaching demise. So to cope, I came up with a possible lil' "solution" for the whole 'shortass teeny-tiny lifespan' situation all mecha pilots got going on!

So Vortex is haunted, right? Ghosts are a thing here. And the pilots own wellbeing automatically goes to the backburner when piloting their mecha, just no awareness of their own body whatsoever.

SO WHAT IF, after a grand'ol time of being lost in space with a bunch of aliens and aiding the local community, Jazz tries to disconnect from his mech for a bit only to find he can't, the other end of the line is completely silent.

At some point during the venture, maybe in a battle or because of some technical issue he wasn't privy to (or just flatout ignored), his vitals flatlined and he had absolutly no idea. He could have been rotting in there for weeks and he didn't notice. Not sure how he'd handle that revelation to be honest. But hey! at least he won't have to worry about mortality anymore! :D

(I really need better coping mechanisms)

…………….YOUR BRAIN ANON

Alright alright. HEAR ME OUT.

Do you remember how we were talking about sparks being radioactive?? What if instead of some kind of wound it’s radiation that kills Jazz? Or. Well. To be more precise not radiation but spark energy.

Just imagine. The final battle against Shockwave and/or Quintessons. The stakes are high the music is epic and everyone has to work together to survive. And after the glorious but tough win Jazz can finally stop and take a breath.

Except. He really can’t.

Because he was so focused on piloting. So focused on “being” his mech that he didn’t feel his own body getting weaker and weaker. And now he starts to slip into panic because his human body isn’t just dead it has been dead for a while. Everyone around him is celebrating. All humans and Cybertronians are smiling and laughing in relief and checking if everyone is alive while he stands there completely frozen and on the verge of breaking the fuck up because he’s DEAD and how much time does he have? Why is he still there?? Is it because his brain isn’t completely dead yet?? Human brain can only last five minutes before it dies completely. Does he have only those pathetic minutes?

He would panic so fucking bad

We would also need him to get his mech back at some point for that. Or. Well. He could die while piloting Prowl but I think Prowl would notice instantly.

[greengoblinswifey]

Fatal Attraction II

pairing— The Salesman x Recruiter!Reader

summary— You and the Salesman navigate your undeniable attraction that has boiled over despite the consequences. You soon discover the reason for dread consuming you since the moment you decided to break the rules with the Salesman.

warnings— sexual tension, flirting, manipulation, nipple play, choking, fingering, hair pulling, oral(f&m receiving), praise kink, fluff, L bombs, death, mentions of blood, grief, angst.

a/n— last part! hope you guys enjoyed this, ik I did!

Part I

Dread and Desire. It seemed as though those two words were all that you knew the last few days. The last few days after your—interesting encounter with the Salesman. An encounter that had been building until the dam burst and would surely burst again. Just like the before, it was only a matter of time. His desire coupled with yours would fuel you but your dread overpowered all else.

It was no wonder there were studies showing women had more survival instincts than men. That women had deep intuition you believed was never wrong. You should’ve known something like this would happen—you knew you would pay the consequences but not like this.

Your curls cascading down your back flowed in the wind as you toyed with the expensive gold ring on your index finger. It was the first piece of jewelry the Salesman had ever gifted you. It signified the first time you had gotten recruits for the Squid Game. Gifting you the ring was his way of showing his appreciation and admiration, but now—it signified everything that terrified you.

An old and poorly clothed man groaning on a nearby park bench snapped you out of your deep thought. You needed to stay focused. That was the entire reason you opted to go about your recruitments in a different location than the Salesman. He took the subway station while you took the park. The sun was good for you anyway, it made you stay positive and highlighted the mahogany of your skin, capturing potential recruits’ attention.

The tight dressed hugged your figure as your hips swayed when you walked over to the man. He immediately shot up from the bench, your presence certainly commanding attention. You didn’t even need to speak first, he was already serving himself on a silver platter.

He looked you up and down, eyes roaming over your stocking-clad feet then coming back up to rest on your chest. “Well, hello gorgeous,” he said, his tone making you roll your eyes internally.

“Good morning sir. I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here all alone on this bench. Life hasn’t been treating you well, has it?” you asked.

A smirk tugged at his dry lips and he stared up at you as though your presence single-handedly turned his life around. “It hasn’t, but I bet it’ll get a whole lot better with you in it.”

You chuckled, strained but sweetly. This was too easy. “Partially. Here, take this card and your life will transform.”

He held on to every word as you manipulatively explained the game and the possibility of a hefty prize fund. As soon as you were finished, he thanked you profusely, even having the audacity to ask you for your number. Did he even have a phone?

By then, you had gotten enough recruits to call it a day. Sighing, you pulled out your phone to text the Salesman to inform him to pick you up as the day’s recruitment concluded. Within a few minutes, you exited the park and he pulled up at your feet.

This was another thing you dreaded—being alone in the car with him. The enclosed space made the tension even more palpable and you would try your best to avoid looking at him but each time you saw him out of the corner of your eye—he was already staring. His desire ran deep—fuck the rules. He needed you. You were his dream woman.

You buckled your seatbelt and kept your head straight, staring out the windshield as the car peeled away. You could sense he wanted to say something but he held back. Knowing you, you would’ve crashed the car killing you both to avoid any further discussion about the incident.

God—the incident. No matter how much you dreaded the consequences, you hadn’t stop thinking about it. Hadn’t stopped desiring more. The way he held your hips as you slowly moved back and forth on his thigh. The way his fingers tangled in your curls as you kissed ferociously. The way he called you a good girl as you slowly moved on his thigh. Your legs clenched instinctively—you needed more.

Maybe if you had gone all the way, had him fuck you right then and there, you wouldn’t be this needy. Maybe then the desire would fade away as the intensity of your connection finally reached its peak. It was probably delusion, you knew you’d end up desiring even more, and then if anyone found out, if the Front Man found out—

You gasped at the thought and the Salesman darted his gaze to you. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Still staring straight ahead you cleared your throat and nodded, though it wasn’t convincing.

He sighed, taking a hand off the steering wheel and running it through his silky hair. God—his hair. The same hair your fingers tangled in as he kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe.

“You’re still thinking about it aren’t you? And don’t lie, I know you are.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened as you approached your destination. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and he won’t find out. Believe me.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did—hell maybe you did believe him. It was just that pang of dread you couldn’t shake, no matter how you tried.

“I’ve never seen you like this. I’ve never seen us like this. Please just believe me,” he pleaded, driving into the parking lot.

“You know what, you’re right.” You turned to look at him—actually look at him for the first time in a couple days. He looked as handsome as the day you met. Tailored suit fitting his large frame, dark hair tousled and that chiseled face you’d give anything to have between your legs.

“There she is,” a smiled tugged at the corner of his lips. A smile that could drop anyone’s panties.

“I’m not a woman of fear. I go after what I want and I always get what I want,” you murmured, your usual confidence laced in your tone.

“And what you want is me,” he interjected.

“Don’t flatter yourself. And let’s just sleep on this,” you retorted.

He opened the apartment door trailing behind you. You could feel his eyes on your ass as you slipped off your red bottoms. As you reached down to remove the other shoe, you felt his hands on your waist roaming until he reached down to your feet. Against your better judgment, you leaned into his touch and allowed him to slip off the other shoe.

His nose nuzzled in your neck, inhaling slowly and humming in content. “You always smell so good.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as his nose was replaced with his lips, pressing small kisses against your neck. You melted into his touch, small whimpers leaving your lips as he began sucking on the sensitive skin.

“God. I missed those moans.” His praise snapped you out of your trance and you pushed him away.

“Well, keep missing them.” You rolled your eyes and pulled away from him leaving him shaking his head.

“And she’s back,” he said trailing behind you.

His breath hitched watching intently as you slipped off your dress, leaving you in your matching bra and thong and the stocking gracing your long legs. Reaching behind, you unclasped your bra turned only your head. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

He was a flustered mess, cheeks growing a rosy red. His eyes were still trained on you, enveloped in the same trance potential recruits would be caught up in. His eyes roamed your back, capturing a mental picture of how your ass moved, the way your curls bounced and the delicate angel wings tattoo on your lower back.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, now behind you.

You didn’t even turn to look at him, instead, you pulled him by his tie, bringing him into the bathroom and locking the door behind you.

“You’re just torturing me at this point,” he huffed.

You finally turned around, your hard nipples on display. Looking down, you could see his prominent bulge. Hard and surely painful.

“What do you mean? I’m just saving water,” You shrugged him off and bent over, your pussy on full display as you took off your thong. You heard him gasp, his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

“Fucking hell. You’re such a temptress, so beautiful,” he ragged, trying to catch his breath.

You made your way into the shower before turning to look at him. “Aren’t you going to join me? I don’t usually give these offer out just like that.”

He nodded frantically, hurriedly stripping himself of his suit and undergarments.

There stood before you in all his glory was the Salesman. His body was toned, just as you expected but as your eyes trailed down, you caught sight of the deep V line followed by his very hard length. You could see the pre cum glistening from the pink tip and the long vein bulging from the light colored shaft.

He was everything you expected and more.

“See something you like?” His deep voice finally broke the silence and you just rolled your eyes, gesturing for him to accompany you in the shower.

The warm water reflected the heat between you and a content sigh left your lips as the water soaked your body. He was tense behind you, unsure of how to proceed, watching intently as you used your soapy rag to scour yourself.

You turned to face him, his cheeks heating up and he bit his lip, watching as you fondled your soapy tits. Your hands trailed down, covering your pelvis in soap then back up to your tits, groping them seductively.

“I’ve had enough of your shit.” The Salesman held your throat firmly but gently, pushing you against the shower wall. Your chest heaved as his eyes raked over you like a man possessed. “I’m sick of your games. I need you Y/N. I fucking need you. Get it through that pretty little that I don’t care about whatever rules were issued to us—whatever consequences. All I care about is you. Having you in my arms, feeling your body against mine.”

You were speechless, the same way he had you before. It was as though he put his own spell on you. “I’m in love with you. No rules, no consequences, nothing will come between that.”

He was in love with you. Your heart beat faster, threatening to tear away from your chest. No one had ever felt so deeply about you before. So deeply that they could care less about their potential demise.

Dread was at the forefront of your thoughts but desire consumed you. Your lips crashed together in a steamy kiss filled with emotion. His fingers tangled in your curls and yours in his damp silky hair, pulling each other closer than you already were. His body was now soapy as you ground against him, teeth clashing in the deep kiss and tongues battling for dominance.

When he finally pulled away he cupped your cheeks, staring into your eyes. “I can’t resist you any longer. Your very being consumes me. Please, let me have you.” The look in his eyes, pleading, told you everything you needed to know if his words hadn’t already.

“Take me.” At the sound of your voice the Salesman’s lips pressed against yours once more, this kiss somehow deeper than the last. His lips traveled down, nipping at the sensitive skin on your neck, hands groping your soapy tits, tugging at your nipples that were hardened.

“Every inch of you is beautiful.” He used the rag soaked with water to wash the soap from your chest before his tongue slid across your nipples. He suckled and bit down gently making your back arch from the wall and your knees wobble. His lips traveled lower, kissing your abdomen, licking your pelvis then he he fell to his knees.

“Can I taste you sweetheart?”

You slowly nodded your head, breath heaving at the sight of him on his knees for you.

“Use your words,” he said.

“Taste me. Please.” Your voice was thick with desire and you had no intention of hiding it any longer.

With your permission, the Salesman spread your legs apart, dipping his head into your pussy. His lips captured your clit, sucking and flicking as you tried to remain composed. “You—fuck, you taste better than I could ever imagine.” His praises somehow made you even wetter and he continued lapping at your juices like a man starved.

He was relentless, tongue flattening against your pussy before it slipped inside your hole. You clamped around it, your head falling against the shower walls. His hands were firm on your thigh, holding you steady as your legs shook. “You’re so wet, sweetheart, really enjoying this aren’t you?” he muttered, staring up at you.

“So so much, don’t stop.” His movements increased and he buried his face into your pussy, savoring your taste as you squirmed above him and moaned loudly. He moaned feeling your pussy clench around his tongue, the vibration sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body.

“That’s it. Cum for me, cum on my tongue,” he growled.

Your back arched off the wall and you squirmed above him as your juices spurted from your pussy and onto his tongue.

“Good girl, that’s it baby,” he cooed, drawing the last bit of liquid from you.

He stood up and you leaned against him, your legs turning to jelly after the ordeal. A smug smirk plastered on his face and seeing as you were practically helpless, he finished bathing you. His touch was gentle—intimate, as he washed every inch of your body thoroughly. When he finished, he planted a kiss on your forehead before wrapping you in a towel and carrying you to the bedroom.

“You really didn’t have to,” you murmured, watching intently as he gathered the products he knew you used on your skin.

He squeezed some cocoa butter in his hands, lathering your damp skin with it and inhaling the pleasant scent. “I like taking care of you, just in case you hadn’t noticed.”

It was refreshing to be taken care of. To be seen. Having spent so much time together, he knew the minuscule things about you, like the products you used after a shower. It was so intimate and made you feel actually loved. For the first time you let your walls down, you were still that seductress, but with him, you were just you. Not putting on a show to recruit players. He saw you for who you truly were.

All those days spent recruiting together built to this—it was unexpected, in the best way possible.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a slow kiss. It was tentative then he moved against your lips like you were something fragile. “I need you,” you pleaded, pulling back just enough to stare into his eyes.

He smiled at you, rubbing your thigh before his fingers found your dripping pussy. “Wet again, sweetheart? Fine, I’ll give my good girl what she’s been craving.” His lips found yours again and he slipped two fingers inside your pussy. You moaned into the kiss as he pumped his fingers steadily, curling them until they found the spot that made you squirm.

“You’re so tight baby. You really needed this.” You certainly did. As his fingers thrusted inside your heat, a thumb began rubbing rough circles on your clit and that was enough to have you convulsing.

Your fingers clawed his back as an intense orgasm washed over you, loud whimpers leaving your lips. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl soaking my fingers like that.” He brought his fingers up to your mouth and you slowly took them in. Your tongue swirled around them, your eyes half lidded and bobbing your head as you seductively sucked.

“That fucking mouth, wow,” he breathed, “does that mean—”

His words were cut off by you sliding down the bed and taking ahold of his hard, long cock. Your hands almost looked small compared to it. He whimpered as you stroked him slowly before moving lower to cup and caress his balls.

“No teasing baby, please. I’ve waited too long for this,” he rasped.

“Yeah? Well beg me to suck your cock.” You were taking control again.

Without missing a beat, he did as he was told. “Please suck my cock, sweetheart. I need that pretty little mouth wrapped around me.”

You chuckled softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his tip before taking him into your mouth. The size of him stretched your lips as you moved down slowly, letting him feel everything. His breath caught, and when you glanced up at him through your long lashes, his eyes were locked on yours. His mouth hung open, and your curls framing your face made the sight of you almost too much for him to handle.

You took his cock out with a pop before taking him deeper, your pace quickening as you worked him over. His hips bucked slightly, his whimpers turning into loud moans. “Oh, God—baby, you’re so good at this. I won’t last,” he stammered, his body trembling as you deep throated him. Your hand moved in sync with your mouth, your fingers grazing his sensitive skin.

You felt his balls tighten so you pushed the tip to the back of your throat and finally, he shuddered, releasing in a rush. He practically exploded in your mouth, ropes of cum going down your throat and as you eased him out of your mouth, he spurted all over your chest. His body trembled as he murmured soft, almost dazed thanks. You leaned up to kiss him, your hand in his hair as he whispered, “Thank you sweetheart. You’re fucking amazing.”

He kissed you once more relishing in the taste of his cum on your tongue before he flipped you so he was on top.

“Now, it’s your turn to beg. Beg me to fuck you.” If it was any other man you would’ve cursed him out and left but the Salesman had a strong hold on you.

“Please fuck me. Hard. I need your cock so bad.” Your pleads made him hard again and he used the tip to drag along your puffy lips. Slowly, he sank into you, but halted, allowing your tight pussy to adjust to his size.

“Oh God,” you gasped, as he took your breath away. “You’re so big.”

“I know baby, I know. But you can take it, you were made for my cock.”

Hs slammed into you, his pace steady as you adjusted and he buried his cock to the hilt. Your moans filled the room as he then began moving with a pace that had your toes curling and your red nails digging into his muscular back.

He pounded into you as though he was proving a point, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock. You could feel him deep inside your cervix and as you looked down, you saw the faint outline of his cock moving inside you. His large hand snaked around your neck as your foreheads touched, small trickles of sweat mingling. He worked his hips into you, your mouth in an ‘O’ as you breathlessly moaned with him slamming into you.

“You feel so fucking good. So tight. So perfect. I fucking love you and this pussy,” he panted.

You cried out in response and he pulled out his cock, slapping the heavy tip on your clit making you jolt. As soon as it made contact with your clit, you squirted, your juices spurting all over his cock and abdomen.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, leaning down to kiss you and then your tits.

He didn’t give you time to breathe. Instead, he flipped your almost limp body onto your back then brought your ass up to him. You arched your back, and gasped as you felt his cock probe your quivering pussy. You were so sensitive.

He sank into you from behind and slapped your ass making you moan.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, snapping his hips against you. “You should see how fucking beautiful you look from this angle. This ass, that tattoo, your pussy just clenching around my cock. Wow.”

You whimpered loudly at his praises and did your best to please him, slamming your ass back against him, his cock brushing that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Just like that baby, you’re doing so well,” he groaned. His fingers tangled gently in your curls, bringing you back so you were arching off him.

“Feels so fucking good. You’re so deep, m’gonna cum,” you cried out.

He reached in front, rubbing your clit and sending bolts of pleasure through you. “Cum for me then, squirt on my cock.”

Your body sagged against him and you cried out as you shuddered, squirting around him, your arousal dripping down to the sheets. His pace faltered and his own release washed over him. You were still cumming as you felt his hot load fill you up and he collapsed onto the bed with his arms around you.

As the high faded, exhaustion washed over you. He retreated to the bathroom then brought a towel to clean you up. He cleaned between your legs and chest with precision then lay beside you, pulling you into his big arms.

“That was amazing,” he beamed.

You snuggled into him and smiled, though the feeling of dread came once more. What was wrong with you?

“You’re amazing,” you said, kissing his chest.

You melted into him, savoring the moment as he held you close as though you would slip away. You had never felt this way about anyone—much less have them feel that way about you too. Soon, you drifted off to sleep, another day of recruiting was on the horizon.

The next morning, you woke up content, though the feeling of dread felt even closer now but you brushed it off. You and the Salesman got ready with him unable to keep his hands off you the entire morning.

“We have to be out soon, mm—calm down,” you giggled, the Salesman pressing kisses on your neck from behind.

He held his hands up defensively then laughed, lacing your hands with his as you exited the apartment.

As he locked the door behind him, there was a card with the Squid Game logo on it. At first, you thought a recruit had stalked you to give you back the card but as you both read what was on it, your heart fell.

“You didn’t think I’d find out, did you? There will be dire consequences for your actions. You have been eliminated.”

The last words sent a ripple through you. Those were the exact words that would be uttered to players before they were killed. The Salesman sensed your fear and wrapped his arms around you, your face burying into his chest.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The sentiment calmed you down and you nodded allowing him to comfort you.

The day was nothing short of chaotic with the Salesman switching it up a bit. You were still on edge so you allowed him to be in his element. He baited vagrants with lottery tickets and bread, giving them the choice to choose either, not both. When the majority of the vagrants choose the lottery tickets and then lost, he destroyed the bread they rejected, stomping all over them like he had lost his mind.

You held back a giggle at the horrified faces of the potential recruits, sitting perched on a park bench watching the entertaining scene unfold. After a partially successful recruitment session, you decided to call it a day. Your contentment for the day’s activities didn’t last long as you couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed.

“Stay at the apartment. I have something I need to deal with,” the Salesman said sternly as you relayed your concerns to him.

His tone left no room for defiance so you obediently went into the apartment, tossing the card that was still pasted on the door into the trash.

There it was again. That feeling of dread, and maybe now, it was impending doom. Something was seriously wrong and all you could do was pace the apartment trying to ease the feeling.

Hours passed with no word from the Salesman until a message was sent. A simple location. You sighed in relief, wondering what was going on but decided to ask all the questions when you arrived. You drove there, punching in the address of a shabby hotel you wouldn’t be caught dead in under any other circumstance.

Your legs shook as you slowly made your way up the dark stairwell. The Salesman had made sure to give you the room number. You wondered why he hadn’t just come out to meet you. All this was unlike him but he wouldn’t lead you in any danger. If anything, he probably had a few recruits lined up.

Your heels clicked softly as you walked through the hallway then came to a halt in front of the door. As you entered, you caught the end of a conversation.

“We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the culinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over. What do you say?”

Your heart dropped. You bent the corner, eyes wide.

A slightly older, tired looking man turned around just as the Salesman looked up at you.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asked, expression unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” the Salesman added, and you opted to answer him.

“I- I got your message to come here. What’s going on?”

The look on the Salesman’s face made fear course through your veins. He was horrified. He looked down at the gun, hands slightly shaking but his expression was replaced with a sly smile. Inside though, he was crumbling. This was all part of the grand plan. A sick plan orchestrated by his superiors—by the Front man.

Gi-Hun might’ve thought he was slick but he was a pawn in this game. You all were. This was the consequence and he couldn’t back down.

He mouthed an “I love you”, one that you caught and it left you terrified. Why was he telling you that he loved you like it was the last time? Why would he tell you that in the middle of a game? And why was the game involving a loaded gun? Who had sent the message, because it clearly wasn’t him.

You watched in horror as both men survived the game twice during which the Salesman sadistically toyed with the man. Before he shot the fifth round which you realized left him only a 50% chance of surviving, the Salesman taunted the man, baiting him to cheat and shoot him instead. Your mind was clouded, words and comprehension leaving you as you watched the twisted scene unfold.

This was it. This was the consequence, and the dread you felt reached an all time high.

The older man didn’t take the bait and put the gun to his own head, and to yours and the Salesman’s shock, he survived when he pulled the trigger. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, your palms growing sweaty as you came to a sudden realization. But there was nothing you could do. This was ordained the moment the organizers found out you had broken the one rule you were given.

“Any and all relations between recruiters are strictly prohibited. If breached there will be dire consequences—elimination.”

The man then repeated the Salesman’s haunting words to him, challenging him to cheat and shoot him dead—just as he was taunted before. He lost—the Salesman had lost the game and there was nothing either of you could do.

With shaky hands, he held the gun under his chin and tears flooded your eyes. You stood frozen in place, hand covering your mouth unable to move or speak. His gaze darted to yours, a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize and then he pulled the trigger.

Your blood curdling scream was almost as loud as the gun. The Salesman’s blood splattered across the wall as he shot a hole in his head. You fell to your knees, crawling over to him, clutching and shaking his already dead body.

You didn’t care that the other man was staring at you as you screamed and sobbed.

“No! No, please no!” you cried, your hands shaking the Salesman’s lifeless body. “No! No!”

You buried your face in his thigh, your usually freshly done makeup streaming down your cheeks with your tears. Your heart ached—he was the only one that made you remember you had a heart. The only one that made you feel loved and cared for. The only man to ever tell you he loved you and mean it. You hadn’t even said it back.

“I love you! There, I said it! Please, no! No!” you sobbed.

You chanted I love you like those were the only three words you knew. But no amount of declaring your love for him would bring him back. His consequence was death, an eternity without you. And yours was witnessing his demise and a lifetime without him.

This was your consequence. Dread had consumed desire and death reigned supreme.

[chaoticwriting]

FENTON CRIME FAMILY 3

Part 2

Jazz is very annoyed right now. She is walking home from work today since she only needs to do a half day. The last breakout has released most of the inmates patients and they are still in the process of being returned except the one that poses major threats to Gotham.

Anyway, the reason why Jazz is so annoyed is because a group of men have been following her for awhile now. And they haven't even tried anything yet and just keep staring at her like she wouldn't notice them.

Going into a dark alley, Jazz decides that if they don't want to take action, she will force their hands into it. The men look at each other as Jazz enters the alley and follow suit. As soon as they enter the alley, they see Jazz make a turn deeper into the alley and run after Jazz to not lose her.

Apparently, they never get taught to never underestimate who they are pursuing. Immediately after they turn, the front guy is hit with a metal bat with a green printing that reads Fenton. The second guy reacts fast by holding the metal bat to avoid Jazz taking another swing but holding it bare hand is also a big mistake.

*Zaaaapppp*

The guy that holds the bat is shocked with a high voltage of lightning from the bat. His hair burns as electric static jumps from one of his hair to another.

Suddenly, just as she is about to pull her bat away, an arm reaches out to her shoulder, sending her instinct flaring, making her swing the bat as fast as possible towards the person that just approaches her.

*Crack*

Jazz: Oh my god! Jason! I'm so sorry. I don't know it is you. Let's go to the hospital to check on your hand right now.

Jazz reaches for Jason's other arm that doesn't get hit by her bat and starts pulling him out of the alley. Jason tries to pull away to stop her but in her panic, she doesn't realize how strong she is while pulling Jason.

Jason: Wait, Jazz. It's fine. Really. This is not the first time I break my hand. You don't need to feel guilty. How about this? You treat me to dinner later on in exchange for breaking my hand.

Jazz: But your hand. I can't just treat you to a meal and be done with it.

Jason: It's fine. Though if you really feel guilty about it, you can do me a really good favour.

Jazz: Favour?

Jason: Yes. It's nothing much. Rather than treating me to a meal, how about you go on a date with me?

Jazz: A date?

Jason: Yes. A date. Call me when it is convenient for you to go out with me. Okay?

Jazz: *Blushes* Yes.

Jason: Good. Don't forget to call me later, yes? You have my number right?

Jazz:*Nods*

Jason: Well then. See you later.

Jazz: Wait!

Jason: Yes?

Jazz: The day after tomorrow I'm free. Come pick me up after 9.

Jason: Alright. Bye princess.

Jazz just stares as Jason rides his motorcycle away down the road. Did she really just get a date with Jason? Oh my god! She can't believe it. Does Jason know she has a crush on him? Oh god she hopes she doesn't embarrassed herself just now. She sounds so desperate though. She can't let Danny or Ellie know about it.

-Jason POV-

Oh god! Oh god! Oh my god! Did he really just say that? To Jazz? How thick is his face? He even called her princess at the end. Thankfully she didn't react negatively. He totally blames Dick for rubbing his flirty personality on him. Where does he even find the confidence to say all of that with a straight face?

Though Jazz is very strong. Breaking his arm with a metal bat is one thing, but she also can pull him easily even if he struggles against her. Plus with her height slightly above him, she is totally his dream woman. There is a reason his favorite is Wonder Woman after all.

Jason rides his bike back to the manor, humming happily while completely forgotten about his broken hand. It is until Alfred hands out a cup of tea that he drops that he remembers that his hand is broken. Alfred heavily chastised him for trying to hide his injury and didn't take his excuse of forgetting about it.

Jason eats his dinner with the family quietly while imagining about his date later. When suddenly, his peace is interrupted.

Tim: Okay, I'm getting creeped out now. Why is Jason so quiet? Last time he was this quiet, he replaced all my coffee with a decaf.

Jason: What do you want with me, Timbo? You want me to cuss you out every few minutes? Or you want me to act lovey dovey with you? You could go to your boyfriend or girlfriend or whoever you are dating currently for that.

Stephanie: Yeah, Tim. I agree with Jason. We should leave him alone so that he could go back to dreaming about his imaginary girlfriend or something.

Jason: She is not imaginary!

Dick: You have a girlfriend! I knew it. That looks you have before this is only something I see when all of you get a new partner. Who is it? Is it someone we know? Come on, tell your big brother.

Jason: Fuck you! I don't need to tell shit to any of you. All of you have terrible love life anyway. I don't need advice from those that failed.

Dick,Steph,Cass,Tim: Hey!

Bruce:*Grunts*

Duke: I don't think mine is bad though.

Jason: Of course yours is good. That's why you are my favorite.

Dick: What! I thought I am your favorite.

Jason: No. You were my favorite. My favorite now is Duke.

Steph: No offense to Duke. But why him?

Jason: Because out of everyone here, he is the only one here who has a gang.

Duke: For the last time, We Are Robin is a movement. Not a gang.

Jason: Yeah sure, little brother. Whatever let you sleep at night.

Tim: Why don't we go back to the fact that Jason's girlfriend?

Jason: And why don't we talk about your missing spleen?

Tim: Touché

Dick: Wait, Jason. Does your girlfriend know about the Red Hood thingie? Or is she just a normal civilian?

Jason: Well she is a civilian alright. Just not a normal one.

Steph: What's that supposed to mean?

Jason: That's for you to figure out.

Jason then gets up and puts his dishes into the sink. He returns to his home and lays on his bed. Seeing his broken hand, he doesn't know if he should hope it heals sooner so that she can go on a date with Jazz better or he should wish that Jazz first give to him last a lot longer.

-The Bowery-

Danny and Ellie are having a stand off right now. The reason? Someone forgot to take out the trash and now Jazz is mad at everyone. Both of them are sure it is the other's turn to take out the trash but they just aren't sure enough.

Jazz at the side: It is actually me but I need something to distract me from today's incident.

[tripiolo]

second chances ✧ ms

𝜗𝜚 in which you give your ex boyfriend another chance

contains- swearing, mention of breakup, mention of neglect & disregard of feelings, crying, little bit of sad little bit of happy

“mom asked about you,” matt blurts out, looking to his lap while he twiddles with his thumbs.

you had broken up with matt the week before, and had been coming over to collect your things in several trips, hoping you would be able to avoid matt. this time, he was sitting on the couch when you pushed your way inside, so there was no avoiding him. he looked smaller than normal, hunched over in a way he usually wasn’t. you approached him, noticing his puffy face when he looked up to you. had he been crying? certainly. and it seemed he had been for a long time.

“oh..” you say awkwardly, setting your backpack down on the couch. “did she?”

matt nods his head, his eyes darting back to his lap. he knew he had messed up, and he was feeling every ounce of guilt for what he said about you to his friend.

“can we talk, like seriously, please?” he pleads, his eyes briefly meeting yours. tears prodded at your eyes from seeing him this way. it was terrible to see him so shaken, but it felt nice knowing he still cared and this wasn’t any easier for him.

“matt…” you sigh, taking a seat next to him. “what could there possibly be to talk about? i feel like we’ve exhausted all avenues at this point.” you knew the breakup would be the hardest one you have ever had to go through, because matt was different. you felt such a strong connection to him in your soul, and he loved and cared for you like no other. your love was better than the movies, but the repetitive nature of matt’s unwillingness to hear what you were saying had gotten old and driven the two of you apart.

“no, y/n, please just hear me-,” he says softly, setting something inside of you off.

“hear you out?!” you furrow your brow, raising your voice. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

matt remains silent as you cross your arms and scoff at his choice of words. “hear you out? matt, the whole fucking reason we broke up is because you could never do that for me!” you shout, tears spilling from your eyes. you two had communicated about the breakup, but always had left things unsaid in the end. this time, you wanted to be sure you said everything you wanted to. you sigh deeply in attempt to calm yourself down, wiping your hands down your face.

once he comes back into your line of vision, your heart drops at the sight of his body hunched over and shaking. his head was in his hands as he sobbed, and your attitude changed instantly. in the two years you had been together, you never saw him cry.

“matt?” you whisper, softly placing a hand against his back. “i’m sorry, i’m just frustrated. i shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

“you had every right to,” he sniffles, looking up at you once he has calmed down. “i messed up.” another tear rolls down his cheek.

“y/n, i’m sorry,” he says, grabbing your hand in his own. “so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. you’re everything to me, y’know that?” he asks, his voice cracking as he tries to hold his tears back. “everything i have ever wanted, everything i have ever needed. there’s nobody like you. i am so truly and deeply in love with you, i can’t just let you walk away from me.”

“matt…” you start, earning a ‘shush’ from him. a blush creeps up on your cheeks as he speaks, a small smile spreading across your face.

“i know i messed up, and i know sorry won’t cut it, but i just want you to know how genuinely sorry i am. i never meant to hurt you, neglect you, disregard your feelings, none of that. i don’t want to start over with anyone else. i don’t want anyone in your place but you. you are the only one for me in this lifetime and the next,” he continues, his nose clogged from the crying he had done. “this is what couples do, right? they fight, they have misunderstandings…but they fix it together. we can fix this together, sweetheart.”

you ponder for a moment, touched by matt’s sincere words. maybe he was right, maybe you could fix this together. maybe you did overreact a little when you broke things off, but that’s a conversation for another time.

“yeah,” you finally say, a small smile on your face. “i think we can work things out,” you continue, and matt practically jumps on you. “but wait.”

you giggle, pulling away from him for a second to speak in a serious tone. “you have to promise me you’ll try to be better at listening to me when i speak.” matt frantically nods his head, wrapping his arms around your waist. he looks up at you with the sweetest eyes that you’ve missed so dearly, and you know you made the right decision.

“i thought i had lost you for good,” he breathes out, enveloping you in a tight embrace. “i was so scared…”

“matt, you could never lose me for good. i love you too much for that.”

“good, because i’m not going anywhere now that you’re back. now, how about we call mom?” he smiles, and everything in the world feels right again.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

a concept : abby's first time with a woman. maybe her first partnered orgasm too cause we all know owen ain't shit lol.

i'm so in love with this request. @powderpinkandsweeet did this concept too and it was delicious please go read hers here!!

warnings: owen.. fingering (a! receiving), oral sex (r! receiving), afab / fem reader, body worship because Abby deserves it.

a/n: I wrote Abby to be mostly bisexual in this fic, but you can interpret her feelings for men as possibly comphet or something similar. Either way, it's clear she discovers her preference for women.

Sex means a variety of things to people. In Abby's life, sex with men was mostly about love. She did feel attraction to men and she had relationships with them, last one being her ex-boyfriend Owen. It was never about the pleasure itself. Sure, there were moments when she felt physically nice during sex, but it didn't last. She was only halfway there by the time Owen was coming down from his orgasm. He didn't offer to finish her off, and aftercare was the sound of his breathless laughter accompanied by a "thanks, babe."

Abby didn't ever judge her friends who liked to have sex for less emotional reasons. At least, she didn't think there was much emotion behind it. Abby just knew more about sex within relationships. The fact that men were incapable of actually making her cum was overshadowed by feelings. Things changed when she caught a glimpse of Mel's contact in Owen's phone, though. Things changed for the better.

You were much different than Owen in ways that Abby could not grapple with. First of all, you weren't a man. Abby never really considered women as an option for her (though she had lingering thoughts about what it would be like to be with one), but seeing you at a small party, you being a friend of a friend, she wasn't exactly opposed to the idea of being involved with one.

Conversations led to observations. Whereas Owen was condescendingly sarcastic, you liked to be gentle with Abby. You never said a joke that made Abby feel bad about being a stronger woman; in fact, you told her you liked her physique. You asked about her workout routine, and you made her feel feminine. That was simply something Owen could not do. Owen was also a blind optimist. He turned away from issues in the pursuit of "ignorance is bliss." With you, it felt like you articulated your views in a way that made her question her own, even. You were clearly a thoughtful person, and you took time to educate yourself about human rights, something that should be the bare minimum but clearly Owen lacked education on. Abby could never talk to him about topics like feminist issues like she was able to with you. And lastly, a more physical observation, you made her realize that actually feeling pleasure during sex can make the sex 100 times more emotional.

You took her home with you the night you met. Abby told you about the break-up and how she was still processing it, and you didn't expect anything more from her than what she was comfortable giving. But fuck, the sex made her feel things. How was she ever supposed to feel this way with anyone else?

You had her laid on your bed, and you only kissed her for a little while. Even your kisses were like sugar, and Abby wanted so much more. Every moment of contact your lips made with hers reminded her of an artist's brushstroke onto a canvas, painting over it a masterpiece that simply cannot be undone.

Your fingers traced over her sides, heightening the pants she spills from her lips, and increasing a neediness deep within her that feels like pressure building up in a small space, needing to be let go. She was a little worried that you'd get her all worked up and not make her cum.

You noticed the way she retracted ever so slightly, and cupped her face. "Hey, what's wrong?" You asked so softly, patiently.

Abby swallowed, struggling to articulate her own feelings. She wasn't used to even speaking during sex. It never lasted long enough for her to be able to.

"We can stop if you want to." You offer, giving her a reassuring smile. Your thumb caressed her cheek, and it gave both a red warmth.

"No, it's not that-" she sighed, almost feeling annoyed with herself for making things awkward, "I just got really worked up, I guess. I've never..done this with another woman before, and men are probably different."

You nodded knowingly. "Do you want me to take care of you?"

Abby didn't know exactly what that entailed, but something in her had a pre-established trust for you, just knew that you'd stop if she needed you to. It made her want you even more.

After both of you had enough touchy-feely, Abby helped you pull her shirt and sports bra off. You admired each freckle-plastered inch of her body, from the peak of her nipples to her firm biceps. You took your time with her, and she loved it.

You used your hands first, your soft skin meeting hers. You trailed fingers over her arms, squeezing. Abby let out a soft sigh, and you took that as encouragement to lean in and plant adoration-filled kisses onto the muscle. "You're so pretty." The words were slightly muffled with your mouth on her skin, but she surely heard. It made her pulse beat faster.

You simply touched her for a while, at first warming her up and kissing her skin, mouth becoming steadily more explicit. When your mouth gently latched onto one of Abby's nipples, she couldn't keep herself from making a needy sound. Your tongue swirled over the pink bud, and Abby melted back into the bed.

Not longer after, you weren't surprised to find a pair of soaked panties worn by yours truly. Abby was laid out on your bed, legs parted for you. She was a little embarrassed that you had her so needy before even touching her.

"Fuck," is all she could manage when she felt a warm finger spread her folds open, sliding up to massage her clit.

"You like that, baby?"

"God, yes-" she breathlessly let out, trying not to completely lose it.

The way you touched her was much different from how Owen did. When he (rarely) used his fingers on her, it felt like he was trying to stab her vagina. He couldn't find a clit if it was bright red and glowing. You, however, both teased her and lavished attention on where her body knew it needed it. Your finger teased her hole before slightly stretching it, earning soft sounds from Abby.

You kissed over the firm muscles on her arms as you fucked her, careful to slip another finger into her and give her a good stretch. Abby was incoherent and so messy that her neediness was soaking your knuckles, trickling down your hand. You didn't complain or joke about it, even letting out sweet, approving hums onto her skin.

Your fingers didn't drill in and out of her like a screwdriver, much like Owen's, but rather plunging within her to press into her g-spot and curling upward. You kept your thumb on her clit, making sure she had that extra stimulation.

"Do you like it?" You asked, eyes peering up to meet hazy pair.

Abby eagerly nodded, not trusting herself to speak a sensical sentence. You smiled and carefully shifted to kiss her. This time, it wasn't as soft, rather sloppy but it was exactly what Abby needed. Everything you did made her head spin. You had her tongue between your lips, sucking on it and occasionally letting her invade your mouth and taste the sweetness of whatever was once there. Just the soft little nibbles you gave her bottom lip made her moan, a sound that would've been much louder if not swallowed by your mouth.

Best part was, you knew how to multi-task. The desperation she felt was slowly fed with the steady pace of your hand working on her pussy, and your lips made her feel what she didn't understand before: you made her realize that the physical part of sex, the part that she didn't quite like to explore with men, could be just as important as the romantic aspect.

You found a pace that Abby particularly liked, causing her to whine and tangle her fingers into the sheets.

"Fuck, right here. I'm gonna cum." She pleaded, as if so desperate to get to cum. She wanted it so badly, and it only made you more needy to give it to her.

"Yeah? You wanna cum all over my fingers for me?" You cooed, lips brushing against hers. Your short breath sent warmth onto her lips, and she wanted to always feel it. It sent heat throughout her.

"I wanna cum for you!!" Her moans were louder, but you didn't shush her. You instead leaned down to kiss her, fingers pumping into her pussy, thumb rubbing circles down onto her clit.

She felt the final seconds of chasing her orgasm, hips lifting to meet your hand, and she thanked a higher power that you weren't a man who was giving her sloppy thrusts that would never get her over the edge.

You made her feel like she was on cloud nine. She probably cried out your name a couple dozen times, grasped onto your face to kiss your lips just to feel that connection as you fucked her. She never expected to feel such emotion during an orgasm, never was she able to feel this way during masturbation or with guys. It was all because of you that her pussy was sloppy and leaking onto your sheets, making a mess.

When she came down, you let her catch her breath, soothing her with kisses on her shoulders and allowing your cheek to rest on her chest. You listened to her heartbeat, waiting for it to grow steady.

Abby felt content and safe with you, but something was still nagging her. You made her cum, but she hadn't made an effort to touch you yet. She didn't ever want to make you feel the way that Owen made her feel.

She hesitantly but gently tapped your upper back, and you sat up.

"Are you okay?" You asked with a moderate amount of concern present, wanting to make sure you didn't do anything wrong.

"Of course, but..I wanna touch you. If that's okay."

You nodded. "Have you ever touched a woman before? At all?"

Abby shook her head, cheeks a little red. She was a bit nervous, but her eagerness made up for it. You didn't seem hesitant in letting her touch you, and that made her feel more confident.

"I've honestly always wondered what it'd be like to like, go down on a girl." Abby admitted with a sheepish laugh.

You smiled and began to strip, your tank-top and bra leaving your body first. For the first time, Abby felt truly overwhelmed with seeing someone naked. You looked so soft and touchable, and she found herself wondering how you'd taste, feel, and sound like when she made you feel good. She hoped she could make you feel good.

You laid down next to where she was previously laying, and Abby situated herself in front of you. You parted your thighs, and she sworn she felt herself drooling from the sight of your glistening pussy, begging to be eaten like a savory meal.

Abby found it most comfortable to lay on her stomach, face between your legs. She wanted to make you feel appreciated (and she loved your thighs), so she planted kisses along your thighs, frequently peeking up to make sure you were comfortable. When her mouth was near your pussy, she paused.

"Can you guide me? Sorry, I know it's awkward as hell, but I have no clue how to do this and I want to make it nice for you." She could hear the shakiness in her own voice, making her slightly cringe.

Abby felt one of your hands stroke through her hair, fingers carding through the blonde. "Just do what you think would feel good, you know? You're a woman, so try to imagine it on you. I'll tell you what feels good and what doesn't." Abby let herself imagine it for a moment and nodded, knowing that the best way to learn is to just practice and listen to your moans and what you tell her you don't want.

She gave herself a second to calm her nerves, and gave an experimental lick to your clit. You made a soft sound, encouraging more.

As Abby worked, she knew she wasn't physically skilled at this, at least not yet. However, she was enthusiastic about it. She tried to make up for the lack of experience as best she could. Thankfully, you also tugged her head closer and ground your pussy against her mouth, making it easier for you to feel pleasure while she figured out what worked well for you. You seemed to like when she slipped her tongue into you and worked at your clit with her nose, your moans less steady and increasingly broken as she tasted your gummy walls.

She found that to get you to your orgasm, it took much longer than it took Owen. She enjoyed that more than she'd expected to, savoring being able to just taste you. She craved feeling the way your hips stuttered when she gave your clit a firm lick, or hear you cry out when you finally got close to an orgasm.

Abby initially didn't know whether to speed up or continue, but the rhythm of your hips helped guide her until she finally had you cumming on her tongue. You were pretty with your eyes half-lidded and brows knit tightly together, thighs pressing against her face, it made her want to just take a mental snapshot of this moment and keep it with her forever. She didn't know what she loved more, the process of eating pussy or the aftermath.

When you were stable again, Abby moved to mimic your previous action, letting her ear press against your heartbeat. You had to stifle a giggle at how cute it was, but you were probably too out of breath to even get a steady laugh out. She didn't leave sexual, sloppy kisses onto your tits, but rather gentle, loving pecks.

Abby didn't know when exactly she fell asleep, but she woke up with her chest pressed against your back, cuddling you tightly against her. It was probably early in the morning, and her body was still a bit sore, but she smiled and planted a kiss onto the back of your neck, holding your bare form close to hers as she drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Fern x Reader PT3(Final)

part 1

part 2

a/n: this is the final part of Fern’s main story, but not the end! You can still make Fern requests and I may rewrite this mini series in the future when I have time.

Fern had been depressed lately. He was a fairy, a dainty little thing, and you were now pregnant. He watched as you waddled around, struggling to do things.

If he were just bigger, he could ensure you never had to lift a finger.

All he could do was use magic to help when he could. Vines sprouted to grab things out of your reach or play with your pussy when you were feeling needy.

Fern wanted you so badly, to properly fuck into you and stretch out your fat cunt like he had before.

At night his wings fluttered softly as he rubbed your pregnant belly, kissing it. When his child was born, would he even be big enough to hold them? It made his heart ache to even think of such a thing. How could he protect his family when he was the size of a small doll?

That’s why he made a tough decision. Fern backed a bag, kissed your forehead and promised he would be back.

There were tales of a witch that lived in the center of the forest. She’d grant a single wish for anyone that came to her… but for a price.

He knocked once on the dirty window, noticing it was cracked and the wooden frame was chipped. Did anyone even live there?

The door creaked open, an old crone beckoning him in. “Hurry, I don’t have all day. Go on and tell me what you want.”

Fern sat on an upside down teacup, watching as the witch bustled about the dusty old cabin looking through books and half empty potion bottles.

“Uh… I wanted to know if you can make me… the size of a human.”

The witch paused, glancing at him. “I can, for a price. What are you willing to give me in exchange?”

~

It had been an entire day since you last saw Fern. He wasn’t the type to be out late, always returning before dark, so it was alarming that he had been gone for more than a few hours.

It was a bit hard walking now. You were six months along, but looked like you were closer to nine. Fern liked to joke that you seemed about ready to burst while laying his tiny head on your belly.

You could tell that his size was bothering him even more lately. As your pregnancy progressed, you needed more help, the kind someone as small as him couldn’t provide.

Despite what others may think, Fern was a proud fairy and hated that he wasn’t able to help his pregnant lover.

Fern wanted to provide and care for you, but that wasn’t really possible when he couldn’t even do most things for himself.

When the second day without any sightings of him filled around, you started to panic. It really wasn’t like him to be gone so long, especially when you were carrying his child.

‘Where could he be?’

Nearly a week passed without him. It was both depressing and terrifying, leaving you nearly bedridden at times. Everything seemed harder with Fern gone.

Even if he couldn’t do much of the heavy lifting, he used his magic to keep you from getting morning sickness, always comforted you when you were hormonal, and made sure all of your vegetables stayed fresh.

Without him, the world felt cold and uninviting. He made all the gray clouds disappear, but now that he was gone the sun had left with him.

You sat in your rocking chair as tears fell down your cheeks. After crying so much, your eyes were puffy and sore.

Even knitting for your unborn child was a chore these days, and you had only finished a single foot when you heard a knock at your door.

For a moment you thought Fern would be behind it… but that was stupid. He was the size of your hand, there’s no way he could knock that loud.

You didn’t rush to greet your guest. Instead you slowly put down the onesie you had been knitting and stood.

Trudging towards the door, you slowly unlocked it and pulled towards yourself…

“Hello, my love.”

You were breathless, eyes wide and mouth agape as you looked up to see a hair of brown curls and eyes as green as fresh oak leaves.

A hand reached out, cupping your cheek and swiping at your tears as you began to cry.

“Fern…”

You sobbed into his chest, warms wrapped tightly around him. He hugged you back, his eyes softening when your baby bump pressed into his abdomen.

“I’m so sorry, love. There was something I had to take care of, something so important I had to leave you for a while.”

As your lip wobbled, Fern began to explain what had happened.

After the witch asked him what he’d give in return, Fern was quick to answer.

“My immortality.”

You covered your mouth, eyes going wide as you swallowed harshly. “You… gave that up to be the same size as me?”

He nodded, smiling fondly as he tilted your chin up. “And I’d do it a thousand times over, love.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to yours a gentle, yet needy kiss. Although it felt amazing to kiss him after such a stressful week without him, you pulled back after a moment.

“But… why did you stay away for so long?”

Fern went pale, scratching the back of his head with a nervous laugh. “Let’s just say the process to become tall was… long and painful. That old witch enjoyed it too, I’m sure.”

After a moment of simply enjoying each other’s presence, you both walked inside.

After that, Fern waited on you hand and foot. He adored you, that was for sure. Every meal, activity, and even bathroom visit was managed by him.

Fern smiled down at you as he helped you into a bath, his eyes lingering in your heavy and swollen breasts.

When you hissed and winced in pain as your hands brushed against your sensitive nipples, Fern cooed out sympathetically.

“Here, just relax.”

His wings fluttered as his hands groped your fat tits, massaging and squishing them lightly. You let out such a delicious noise that he couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss your neck.

Fern’s cock twitched to life when milk spurted from your perky buds. He always got so hard when he was reminded you were heavily pregnant with his young.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

His hand slipped between your legs, a vine replacing the now missing one at your tit while his other continued massaging you.

“Mmph… Fern…”

You had been so needy lately, begging for him to properly fuck you since he had returned. But he was hesitant. Fern didn’t want to potentially harm you or his unborn child…

But with some reassurance from you, the fairy joined you in the tub. He settled you onto his lap, continuing his ministrations.

His cock nudged at your warm cunt, desperate to be enveloped by your velvety walls.

And you wanted him just as much.

Fern groaned against your neck, keeping a hand on your baby bump for leverage as he bounced you up and down on his cock. It felt so good to stretch you out again and have you clench around him.

The vines rubbed at your clit, making you tighten up even more. You came again and again, your body way more sensitive due to your pregnancy.

He loved getting to fill you up with his seed. Watching the hot, white cum leak out of your cunt as he rinsed you off made him want to do it all over again.

But Fern wanted to go easy on you until after your pregnancy.

~

Months passed by, and Fern held onto your hand as you gave birth. Labor hadn’t been easy, but he was by your side the entire time.

“It’s a girl…”

You held onto your baby, eyes half lidded from exhaustion. Fern was an absolute mess, his eyes puffy and red as he sniffled.

“She’s beautiful…”

Fern handled almost everything as you recovered, and as your baby girl grew, her wings started to slowly develop.

“She has wings… is she..?”

“Immortal? Maybe, but I’m not sure… I impregnated you before the witch took my immortality, but she is half human…”

You kissed her little head, letting her nurse as your now husband knelt in front of you.

“I don’t want that for her, Fern. She would outlive all of us. Wouldn’t that be lonely?”

Fern paused to think, slowly reaching out to place a hand over your belly.

“… it wouldn’t be if we… gave her a sibling.”

And so the two of you had several children through the years, slowly repopulating the fairy race. You’d grow old together, and even if your children lived forever, at least they would have each other.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[1d1195]

Independent Extra I

Read Independent here | ~3k words

From me: not sure how I feel about this, but I've missed them and it may have gotten some juices flowing to do more.

Warnings: a little bit of insecurity/angst but otherwise very fluffy (I hope it will make you want Harry even more if that is possible.)

“Jus’ thinking I might not be this sweet forever?” He smiled. She looked at her lap, her cheeks flaming bright red. “S’okay, Poppy. Y’don’t have a reason t’believe any man that they won’t,” he shrugged. “Jus’ promise you’ll let me prove y’wrong, yeah?”

Harry felt like he was on the defensive. It was unfortunate that he was feeling sick when she had confessed that she was in love with him too. After all that time he had waited to hear those words, he wished he was in a better headspace.

But when they returned to their apartment, she started to look at him, analyzing him while he opened the door. Barefoot. Because he was so worried about her, he couldn’t even put on his shoes. But she noticed his normally glowing and pretty complexion was a bit pale. His eyes seemed a little red and the pucker between his eyebrows made it look like he was in pain. “Are you sick?” She sniffled—remnants from the crying last night. Plus, she knew she was on her way to her own cold because her body was achy in a way that sleep didn’t fix. So, it was only reasonable that she had inadvertently gotten Harry sick as well. Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him as if she knew he was going to lie.

He smiled weakly stepping into their place. “Ah... yeah. I think so. Jus’ a bit, though. Nothing t’worry ‘bout.”

“Oh, for the love of...” she sighed. “Go lay in bed,” she ordered.

“Honestly, Poppy, s’not so bad.”

She frowned. “You...” she swallowed. “You came to get me even though you weren’t feeling well?”

“T’be fair, kitten. You weren’t feeling well either,” he shrugged putting his keys on the little table inside the entryway.

Her heart felt heavy. She felt loved. Which was supposed to be perfect because Harry really felt different. But there was a flicker of doubt and a sense of the it won’t last forever in her head that she wanted to snuff out.

“I’m fine,” she deflected. “I’m going to get you some medicine—”

“Poppy,” Harry said sternly, despite the fact that he looked tired, even after sleeping for so long. “I am a grown man,” he assured her. “M’glad y’want to take care of me. S’an honor. But m’not going t’let you think s’how it’s going t’be,” he explained. “I can get m’own medicine. I will lay down, but you’re going t’lay down with me,” he pulled her hand toward him. “Thank you, for worrying ‘bout me,” he kissed the center of her forehead and let his lips linger there.

God, she wanted to kiss him.

“I want t’kiss you, but m’throat is killing me.”

Her want to kiss him was quickly turning into a need. She adored him. “Please let me get you medicine.”

“Go put on something comfy,” he turned her toward the bedrooms, ignoring her need to help him. “Then, come lay with me,” he headed to the kitchen to get medicine. But it didn’t stop her from trying to make things as comfortable as possible for him. After changing into a pair of joggers and a T-shirt that was too big, she gathered some materials for her stay in Harry’s room. She had a stash of cough drops tucked in her bedside table drawer for nights when she couldn’t sleep well due to congestion or allergies. She grabbed her heating pad for aches (typically used for when she had cramps) but she knew it would help the aches they both felt. She went to his room and set the items on his nightstand, and she made her way back toward the kitchen to grab her water bottle, but she bumped into Harry holding two bottles of water instead. He smirked. “Y’can’t help yourself, hmm Poppy?”

She grinned sheepishly. “I don’t think so,” she admitted. “Especially not for you.”

He shook his head, smiled a little brighter, and pushed her gently toward bed. “Y’can watch TV. I’ll sleep through it.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything—”

“Jus’ you,” he murmured tiredly climbing beneath the covers. He draped an arm across her waist, closed his eyes and nestled into his pillow. Gently, she cupped his face, stroking her thumb along his cheek. “Feels nice,” his voice was groggy. She smiled admiring how cute he was, even when sick. His stuffy nose quickly turned his breathing into a light snore. After a few minutes of shamelessly watching him sleep and ogling his face, she snuggled into his other pillow. Maybe if she was feeling a little better herself, she would have continued to try and care for him, making soup, getting a wet cloth for his head, and the like.

But Harry said it wasn’t necessary. Not that she didn’t want to do it, but for the first time in her whole life, she didn’t feel like she had to. Harry wanted her to snuggle and sleep with him. That was enough, right? For now, it had to be. Because she was tired, and she wanted to sleep with Harry because that’s what he wanted.

Plus, she really couldn’t say no to sleeping with her hot new boyfriend.

*

“Pretty, pretty, pretty,” he murmured skimming the back of his finger across her cheek while she slept. She blinked her eyes open, adjusted to the scenery, and she smirked.

“You must be sick because I can’t even imagine what my hair looks like.”

He chuckled, turning his head slightly to cough. “M’not that sick.”

“Do you need anything?” She asked politely.

“No, Poppy. M’perfectly content,” he promised.

“Let me know—”

“I would never deny you the pleasure of helping me, kitten,” he assured her and leaned forward to kiss her temple. “Jus’ needed some sleep.” His complexion did look a lot better, his eyes less sunken. “I am a very lucky guy, Poppy,” he murmured.

“Lucky? I’m pretty sure I got you sick.”

“Mm, but s’because m’close to you.”

Her stomach swooped a bit because she was used to Harry’s flirting and asking her out. But now he was hers. Which sounded a little possessive in her head, and she felt bad because Harry was his own person and yes, she wanted to live in this bed next to him but that didn’t mean he had to give up autonomy for—

“I’ve dreamt ‘bout you in m’bed a little too much,” he admitted, his cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink. “Want you all t’myself.”

She blushed in return. At least the feeling was mutual.

*

“What’s the heart on your calendar?”

Harry wasn’t trying to hide their relationship, but they weren’t being overt about it either. The office (Val and Rachel) had been a bit crazy about the pair of them in general. Once they found out they were a couple, it was going to be difficult to get anything done.

At lunchtime, Harry still gave her space. Unless she asked him to stay, which was difficult for her to do sometimes. But Harry didn’t mind letting her have a moment to herself. They continued not to talk too much during the day. Instead, she found her eyes drifting to his desk where he would smile when he felt his gaze on her. Never breaking from the task that he was working on.

Harry worried silently about her from across the room. You’ve been too close to your screen for a while, kitten. Go for a walk around the office ❤️

Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Poppy. ❤️ Don’t want you to put too much on your plate

Did you eat while I was gone? ❤️

God, she loved him so fucking much.

They didn’t carpool every day either and Harry took care of a lot of the chores around the apartment given she had a second job some nights and he did not. So as worried as she had been about overwhelming Harry with being around him all the time, her anxiety was all for naught.

“Oh, um...” she forgot she drew that on the calendar. She had been lost in the morning debrief from their boss and must have marked their first date with a heart.

“It’s usually a birthday, no?” Hunter asked.

“Yes, right,” she shook her head. “One of my friends from high school...” She hoped the lie wasn’t obvious. “I was thinking about the date and didn’t realize... I guess—” she cleared her throat hoping her overexplaining wasn’t as ridiculous as it sounded.

“Poppy, do y’have the report from yesterday on hand?”

“Yes!” She chirped grateful for the interruption. “Excuse me,” she grabbed a folder that she didn’t need and went to Harry’s desk. He gracefully took it and to his credit, he looked it over with hardly any ounce of lying.

Her phone vibrated. Smooth 😉

🙄 Thank you, I was drowning.

I’m excited for our date. I hope you are too.

Of course I am!

She was also petrified. Due to illness, work, and friends, their first official date was nearly a month after she asked him out. Harry asked her out for over a year. What if it didn’t live up to his expectation? What if she was weird and it was only noticeable on a formal date? What if he decided that loving her was all an illusion? She busied herself with her computer and the next task on her to do list, but her mind was spinning. Fortunately, she had mastered the art of losing her mind and continuing to work without pause.

I’m not going to fall out of love, Poppy. Stop stressing over the date. I’ve waited ages for it. ❤️

She allowed herself to look up at him. How could he see her worry? She was certain she was good at hiding it. It totally threw her that he could see it across the room. Then he was just staring at his own screen as if he hadn’t read her addled mind. He didn’t catch her gaze directly.

But he winked at his screen, smiled, both intended for her despite the fact he didn’t even have to look at her.

*

On the day of the date, she was getting ready, a curling iron wrapped around pieces of her hair, but it was taking twice as long because Joey usually did the curling, but she didn’t want to make a fuss about the date. So now she was listening to Maya vent about her job and wondering if she could look over her resume and cover letter. She was worried she would fall behind schedule and the thought of being late to her own date with the guy she was going on a date within her own apartment was just absolutely unbelievable.

“Ah...” she hissed, catching her finger on the hot iron. “Maya, can you hold on a second? Hunter is calling me,” she shook her hand to get the pain away. “Hunter, it’s after work hours...” she scolded.

“It’s important,” he assured her. “Any chance you could forward me the email with the client information from today’s meeting? I can’t find it and I apparently put this off and now—”

She sighed and headed to her room, hair half up and half curled so she could get her laptop. “I’ll send it now,” she said quietly.

“You’re a lifesaver Mary Poppins,” he assured her with a smile in his voice. “Harry is a lucky guy,” he chuckled.

She felt her cheeks flame. “Goodbye Hunter, don’t talk to me tomorrow.”

She called Maya back as she clicked through her emails. As if she hadn’t hung up, Maya continued ranting. “Jay thinks I’m crazy for wanting to leave but do you know what it’s like to be underappreciated at work? It just feels like a constant cloud over me that I do all of these things—”

She wanted to scream.

“Hey,” Harry’s gentle voice interrupted her worry and stress. She blinked at him. Her hair was a complete mess, and he just smiled.

“Hi Harry!” Maya cheered.

“Hi Maya,” he came closer to her and saw her forwarding the email to Hunter. He rolled his eyes and looked at her pointedly. She shrugged. He shook his head. “How are you?”

“Honestly, not great. I was just explaining how I’m going to quit my job because it makes me feel underappreciated. I’m sure I’m not the only person to ever feel underappreciated at work but—”

Harry was in awe that one of her friends could be so dense like that. “Poppy, y’almost ready?” He asked quietly. On purpose. Her cheeks flamed red even though Maya wasn’t there.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“Ready for what? Are you going on a date?” Maya snorted. But the silence was a beat too long. “Oh! OH MY GOD! JAY!” She screamed.

“Bye Maya,” Harry hung up for her. She sent the email to Hunter and soon her phone was blowing up with alerts. Texts and calls from Maya and Joey. She pinched her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“Harry,” she frowned. He pulled the phone from her grip and turned it off. Tucked it into his pocket and ignored the calls and messages that started exploding from his phone.

He shrugged. “They were going t’find out eventually. Finish getting ready, kitten,” he closed her laptop shut for good measure and left the room with it in hand.

*

Harry was insistent that he pick the activity, and she could pick the restaurant. He opened her door before she exited the car, kept a hand on her lower back, pulled out her seat at the restaurant, and was the literal perfect gentleman. Not that he hadn’t been the entire time she’d known him, but this was their first official date.

Which meant they didn’t have tons to talk about because they were pretty well versed with one another. But the silence wasn’t awkward, which was nice. Harry rather enjoyed smiling at her, gazing at her.

“You’re stunning,” he smiled so sweetly it melted her heart, her stomach twisted with butterflies beginning to come out. It was exactly as he had said so many months ago. But now it was real. He was telling her how pretty she looked. He was going to pay for her food. Feed her dessert and he prayed he could kiss her everywhere at the end of the night. They shared bites of their food and Harry insisted she have two drinks because she liked it so much. “I’ll take care of you,” he winked.

When they left the restaurant, Harry placed a hand on her lower back again, guiding her toward their activity. “I am pretty unartistic,” she warned him as he helped tie her apron around her waist. “Like if creative is a trait that you look for in a girlfriend you might need to look elsewhere.”

He chuckled and pulled her hair gently from the loop of the apron that went around her neck, he brushed his thumb on her cheek. “M’sure s’not true, Poppy. Y’decorate so cutely,” he reminded her and quickly put his own apron on. Everything about Harry was gentle and soft.

Was it awful of her to remind herself that these little things might not last forever? That the door opening, the lower back touch, the fixing her hair might not be long term. It wasn’t really fair to Harry. Give him a chance to fall out of love with her, right?

“M’having a really lovely time, Poppy,” he told her. They were sitting at a table meant for four. Each on one side of a corner so they couldn’t see either working. Harry reached for her leg and squeezed her thigh. Calming all worry and racing thoughts.

“Me too,” she smiled. Because she was. Dinner was delicious and it was kind of him to pay for it (even though he said he was going to anyway). The painting was fun. Harry looked handsome as ever. His hair was perfectly styled, and it looked like he ironed his shirt for the occasion. He was pretty to look at. Even at the office, it was hard to keep her eyes from darting over to him at every moment.

“Yeah?” He breathed a sigh of relief, his smile growing.

“Oh goodness, do I not look like I’m having fun? I am, I promise. Dinner was great and even though I’m bad at it, I love painting,” she assured him. “I think I’m just—”

“Jus’ thinking I might not be this sweet forever?” He smiled. She looked at her lap, her cheeks flaming bright red. “S’okay, Poppy. Y’don’t have a reason t’believe any man that they won’t,” he shrugged. “Jus’ promise you’ll let me prove y’wrong, yeah?” He stood up briefly and pressed a kiss to her temple so sweetly. “I like the way y’did your trees,” he pointed immediately. Like he was actively trying to draw her attention away from his very accurate statement. “Looks pretty, we can put it in m’room,” he rubbed his hand up and down her back soothingly before he sat down again.

“How do you read my mind like that?” She asked.

His grin was a little devilish, mischievous, like he knew he was trouble for being such a good boyfriend and it was only their first official date. “Been trying t’read your mind for a year, kitten,” he shrugged watching his canvas and listening to the woman at the front teach the next step.

She stood up and stepped closer to him, gently tilting his head toward her so she could kiss his cheek. When she turned to see his painting, she wished she could have been surprised, but it made sense that Harry hadn’t painted what the woman was doing at the front of the room at all, but instead he was painting a vase of poppies.

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he chuckled.

“It’s very pretty,” she whispered.

“S’my favorite flower,” he promised.

God, she really hoped he never fell out of love with her.

--

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[wwccol]

The Signal: Gotham’s Daylight Guardian

The Batfamily is trying to unravel Duke's "daytime crime-busting secret" only to discover that it's literally just Duke being Duke—and looking like a terrifying eldritch being—it’s brilliant.

Tim: "Okay, I’ve been running the stats. Crime in Gotham during the day has dropped by, like, 40%. That’s not normal. Something’s going on."

Jason: "I say Duke’s been moonlighting as a Jedi or something. There’s no other explanation."

Duke: "I swear, I’m just... out there, doing my thing. Nothing fancy!"

Dick: "Right. Which is why we’re all suiting up and following you tomorrow. For science."

The next day, the Batfamily gathers on a rooftop near Wayne Tower, decked out in their suits, ready to tail Duke as discreetly as possible.

Jason: "Alright, Narrows, go do your thing. We’ll stay out of sight."

Duke (rolling his eyes): "You guys are making this way weirder than it needs to be. I’m just... patrolling."

Dick: "That’s exactly what makes it suspicious. Go on."

Duke sighs, mutters something about how everyone’s being dramatic, and leaps off the rooftop.

The rest of the Batfamily follows at a safe distance, blending into shadows and keeping tabs via comms. At first, everything seems normal. Duke stops a mugging with a quick intervention and moves on. But as he continues, they start noticing patterns .

Witnessing The Signal in Action

A small group of teenagers loitering in an alley suddenly stiffen as Duke lands silently on a nearby fire escape. He doesn’t even say anything—just crouches there, watching.

Teen 1 (terrified whisper): "Did you see that? Oh my god, it’s looking at us!"

Teen 2: "What is that thing?!"

The group scatters like frightened birds.

On another street, a man about to break into a car looks up and sees Duke silhouetted against the sunlight. The golden glow of Duke’s eyes intensifies, and shadows seem to curl unnaturally around his frame.

Car Thief: "Nope. Nope. Not today. I’m going back to Metropolis."

He drops his crowbar and sprints away.

From a nearby rooftop, the Batfamily watches everything unfold.

Tim: "Okay, I don’t get it. He didn’t even do anything that time."

Barbara (from the comms): "I checked the cameras. He just landed on a fire escape and... stared. Is this his whole strategy?"

Steph: "Wait, is this some kind of Jedi mind trick? Duke, are you secretly psychic?"

Duke (on comms): "No! I’m not psychic. I don’t know why they’re freaking out!"

Jason: "I’ll tell you why—they think you’re a demon, dude. You’ve got the whole Lovecraft vibe going on. Look at you! You’re like a glowing shadow monster on top of a building."

Dick: "He’s not wrong. You’re giving off serious 'guardian of the apocalypse' energy."

Duke: "You guys are exaggerating. I just look... cool. Right?"

The Batfamily decides to test the hypothesis. Jason volunteers to get closer for a better look, pretending to be a random pedestrian.

He casually strolls down the street, glances up at Duke on the rooftop, and immediately freezes. Even Jason—who routinely faces death and chaos—is struck by the sheer wrongness of Duke’s appearance. It’s not that Duke’s doing anything malicious. It’s just... unsettling.

Jason (into comms): "Okay, yeah. It’s definitely the eldritch horror thing. My fight-or-flight reflex just kicked in, and I know it’s him ."

Duke: "I still don’t see it!"

Barbara: "Hold on. I’m recording this. I’ll pull up the feed so you can see what Gotham sees."

Back in the Batcave, Barbara plays the daytime surveillance footage on the main screen. The Batfamily watches in stunned silence as the video shows Duke leaping across rooftops. In the broad daylight, his glowing golden aura seems magnified. His shadow stretches unnaturally, flickering like it has a mind of its own. His eyes gleam with an unearthly intensity, and he moves with a predator-like grace that’s both mesmerizing and terrifying.

Dick: "Wow. You’re like Batman’s scarier, solar-powered cousin."

Steph: "Or the protagonist of a found-footage horror movie."

Tim: "Oh my god. Duke... you look like the final boss of a cosmic horror video game."

Jason: "No wonder Gotham’s criminals are freaked out. You look like you’re about to drag their souls into the void."

Duke (finally seeing it): "...Oh. Oh no."

Duke leans against the console, burying his head in his hands.

Duke: "I thought people were just scared of, like... the idea of a Bat vigilante. Not me personally. "

Tim: "I mean, technically, it’s still the idea of a bat vigilante. You’re just the daytime version. And the daytime version is... apparently an eldritch sentinel."

Bruce (stepping in): "This works to our advantage. Fear is a powerful deterrent."

Duke (sarcastically): "Great. My entire crime-fighting persona is an eldrich nightmare… That’s not weird at all."

Later

The Batfamily decides to lean into Duke’s unique abilities. They even brainstorm ways to amplify the effect subtly (glowing lenses for his mask, playing up the shadow distortion) while ensuring Duke feels supported.

Bruce: "You’ve turned daylight into an ally in a way no one else has. Use it."

Duke: "Yeah, but... can we not make me look like the end boss of Gotham?"

Jason: "Too late, man. It’s perfect."

As they laugh and tease Duke, he starts to accept his role as Gotham’s daytime terror—a protector like no other. Though, deep down, he secretly enjoys how effective it is.

Extra

Scenario 1: The Hallway Horror

It’s late at night, and the Batfamily is scattered throughout Wayne Manor. Jason is heading to the kitchen for a midnight snack when he senses movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns to see Duke standing at the end of the dimly lit hallway, perfectly still.

Duke’s golden eyes are glowing faintly in the dark, his shadow stretching unnaturally along the walls. Jason freezes.

Jason (startled): "Jesus Christ, Duke! What are you doing?!"

Duke: "I was heading to my room."

Jason (still on edge): "Well, don’t stand there like a damn ghost! You scared the crap out of me!"

Duke raises an eyebrow.

Duke: "You’re literally a guy who sneaks up on criminals for a living. How did I scare you? "

Jason grumbles as he stalks off to the kitchen. Later, he tells everyone at breakfast that Duke’s "eldritch hallway act" nearly gave him a heart attack.

Scenario 2: The Living Room Light Show

The family is hanging out in the Wayne Manor living room after a patrol. The lights are dimmed, and everyone’s winding down. Duke is lounging on the couch, half-asleep, when Tim notices something strange.

Tim: "Uh... Duke? You’re glowing."

Everyone turns to look at Duke, who blinks in confusion. Sure enough, his golden aura has started to flicker faintly in the dim room. Shadows from the furniture stretch and bend toward him like they’re being pulled into a vortex.

Dick: "Okay, that’s... unsettling."

Steph (grinning): "Is this your way of telling us you’re secretly a nightlight?"

Duke, now fully awake, tries to suppress the glow. But the more he panics, the brighter his eyes get, until Jason hurls a throw pillow at him.

Jason: "Turn it off! You’re gonna summon Cthulhu in the middle of movie night!"

Bruce walks in, sees the chaos, and just sighs.

Bruce: "No eldritch summoning in the living room. Take it to the cave."

Scenario 3: Shadow in the Batcave

Tim is working late in the Batcave, surrounded by monitors and gadgets. He hears footsteps behind him and assumes it’s Bruce.

Tim (without looking): "Hey, can you hand me the—"

He turns around to see Duke standing there silently, his glowing eyes piercing through the shadows of the cave. Tim yelps and nearly falls out of his chair.

Duke (startled): "Whoa! Tim, it’s just me!"

Tim (catching his breath): "Don’t sneak up on people like that! You’re like a freaking cryptid in here!"

Duke smirks, but when he steps closer, the shadows behind him flicker unnaturally.

Tim: "Nope! Nope! Back up! You’re officially banned from the Batcave after dark."

Scenario 4: Bedside Terror

Damian wakes up in the middle of the night and spots a tall, shadowy figure standing silently by his bed. He grabs his katana instinctively and swings—only to realize it’s Duke, glowing faintly.

Damian: "Thomas! What are you doing?"

Duke (guiltily): "I, uh... thought I saw a shadow move in your room. Turns out it was just me."

Damian groans and flops back onto his bed.

Damian: "Next time, announce your presence before you scare someone into an early grave."

Scenario 5: The Kitchen Incident

Steph and Damian are in the kitchen arguing over the last cookie Alfred made.

Damian: "It’s mine. I called dibs."

Steph: "You can’t call dibs on dessert, Demon Spawn!"

As the argument escalates, the lights flicker, and a low hum fills the air. Both turn to see Duke standing in the doorway, his eyes glowing faintly. The refrigerator light casts long, exaggerated shadows across the floor, making Duke look ten feet tall.

Duke (deadpan): "Why is it always the cookies?"

Steph and Damian scream simultaneously.

Damian (recovering, annoyed): "Tt. That was unnecessary."

Steph: "Duke, I swear, one of these days you’re gonna give me a heart attack."

Scenario 6: Midnight Training Gone Wrong

Dick decides to train late in the Batcave, running through an obstacle course. He doesn’t realize Duke is also there, watching from the shadows. As Dick flips off a beam, he catches sight of Duke perched on a ledge, his glowing eyes tracking him like a predator.

Dick slips mid-flip and lands on the mat with a thud.

Dick: "DUKE! Why are you lurking like that?!"

Duke hops down gracefully.

Duke: "I wasn’t lurking. I was observing."

Dick: "You were lurking. Your shadows were doing the creepy tentacle thing again!"

Duke glances at his shadow, which does seem to be moving independently, and shrugs.

Duke: "I can’t control that all the time. Besides, you’re supposed to have situational awareness."

Dick: "Not for you ! You’re worse than Bruce!"

:D!!! lol posting here but I also posted on AO3

[plaidcowboy]

!cosy and rafe keeping themselves entertained when the power goes out

“bruce s’gonna be fine” rafe deadpanned as you gripped the bat jellycat’s wing. your eyebrows remained furrowed. “it’s crazy out there, he’s vulnerable to intense injury” you reasoned. the storm was getting worse by the minute. it spread quickly that another storm was hitting but that it was nothing to worry about. some may have a little power outage for a bit and possible strong enough winds to knock some things over. so.. yeah you were being dramatic. the storm was nothing.

rafe rolled his eyes. “i know you know it isn’t bad, so if this is to pull a reaction from me, i’m walking away now” he headed in the direction where some candles were stored. you huffed, letting go of the plushy bat wing. “fine.. but you’re fixing a broken bat wing if it happens”

“doubt it” he responded with the most uninterested tone.

you shrugged, going over to your phone to check on kie and sarah and see how they’re handling the storm. no internet. course.

your fluffy socked feet padded over to a cupboard. pulling the doors open, your eyes roamed over so many board games. seeing scramble, your eyes widened, hand already reaching out to pull the game from the shelf when it was suddenly pitch black. “who’s playing with the lights” you attempted to joke to the darkness. no laugh from rafe. course. he didn’t get it sometimes.

a candle appeared over your shoulder, startling you. “no one, we’re currently experiencing a storm that just took out the power. did you seriously think i was messing with the lights?”

you met rafe’s curious eyes over the flickering flame. he was serious.

“nevermind. i found scramble” you reached back inside the cupboard, spotting the game again with the help of the natural light. that was when you noticed it sat a little higher than what you thought, having barely seen it before the light went out.

rafe’s front pushed against your back, a veined arm angling across your vision to grab the game. what perks of having a tall boyfriend.

you shook with excitement, going to clap your hands, but thinking better of it when remembering you were holding a candle.

he handed the game to you from above. “why thank you, gentleman” you quickly scurried from the hand reaching to grab your waist. no time for lovey dovey. game time.

you plopped down cross legged on the floor, only about to settle the candle down when rafe’s deep voice spoke from above you. “up”

you looked back to see him holding a blanket. “oh”

you scurried back up, letting rafe place the blanket down for you two to sit yourselves and the game on. settling down, rafe placed his own candle beside himself, gaining you two more light.

you opened the lid of the game, dumping out the letters. mixing them around with your hands, rafe watched in amusement, quietly chuckling. you were passionate about scramble. when you two played, you usually formed the most words. would rafe avoid spelling out big words that required more letters so you could use them? ..yeah. did you need to know? neh.

“okay, go” you immediately began flipping over letters, forming little words and adding to them at different points of said words. rafe looked deep in thought like he always did when you two played. you of course didn’t know he was thinking of words that didn’t have too many letters that he could also get away with without you catching on that he was easing the game for you. not that you needed it. he just enjoyed the smile that bloomed on your face upon seeing your amount of words compared to his.

once the letters ran low and there were no more words to attach, you both looked at you two’s work.

huh. rafe had one more word than you. you slightly pouted. “you won” your pout quickly morphed to a smile, enjoying rafe’s win like it was your own.

rafe quickly looked down at his words. oh. there was one more word. he got ahead of himself. scanning the words, he picked a random one and pulled a letter out. “this one isn’t even a word”

he tossed the letter carelessly to his side.

you titled your head, assessing the gaping word. “rafe.. that spells simultaneously without the e. i can tell”

you looked up to see him scratching at his jaw with a furrowed brow, looking at the words as well. “ah.. no.. i think i made something up. you won that round” rafe nodded determinedly. like the word wasn’t staring at you.

you scrambled over to his side, looking at the word from his view. “yeah no.. that says simultaneously. it’s okay, you wo.. oof”

rafe knocked you down in a bear hug before you could let out the last word. shielding your head with his hand beneath your head, he looked down at you. you stared back up at him with wide eyes. “i have no clue what you’re trying to say. what should we play next?”

[fawnhart]

what makes us girls ! ˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

pairings. drew x bambi!reader

warnings. angst, bambi being a crybaby, Drew being an a-hole, (not edited)

authors note. Made this cause I wanted y’all to know that the beginning stages of bambi and Drew’s relationship were fucked up

The sound of deep bass echoed from the back of the room, a steady thrum that vibrated through the soles of her feet, but the air around bambi felt heavier than the music. Her heart was thumping in her chest, an anxious drumbeat to match the flashing lights and clinking glasses. The after-party for Loewe was in full swing, the loft space tucked somewhere above the usual chaos of New York's West Side. There were faces she didn’t recognize—smiling, laughing, effortless in their beautyy—but she stayed at the edges, as usual, silent and still.

bambi still wasn’t used to this. She still wasn’t used to the velvet ropes or the high-fashion atmosphere. She still wasn’t used to being in the same room as celebrities, to feeling like the room itself might swallow her whole if she let it. But she told herself she was here to forget. Forget the week, forget the ache. Forget how much she wished the man from her last date hadn’t left her standing there, trying to understand why he’d chosen his “friend” over her.

It wasn’t like she’d ever voiced it. It wasn’t like she would have. But the feeling of being so easily discarded?

That sat heavy with her now, sharper than the yellowish neon lights that lit up the space.

Bambi took another sip of her drink—something bubbly that tasted like nothing—and everything at the same time. her eyes darted around, searching for something, anything, to distract her. That was when she saw him.

Tall. Blonde. Older..WAY older.

The kind of guy you’d expect to look like a magazine ad come to life. Drew was leaning against the bar, laughing, the low sound of it catching her off guard. His eyes were blue, the color of the summer sky on a good day. His shirt was perfectly undone at the collar, and his hair, tousled but somehow intentional, made him look even more unattainable. There was a small hoop earring in one ear, the kind of detail that shouldn’t matter but to her it did.

And standing next to drew was his friend.

Bambis chest tightened as she watched the girl, her fingers trembling around her glass. Her loose curly hair falling messily over her forehead. They were talking, laughing like it was the easiest thing in the world, while bambi was just... standing there.

it wasn’t new news to her—the friend. she had worked with drew for about a year, but only recently had she started seeing him in a different light. She wanted him, and she felt dumb to believe that he would too.

Her throat burned.

She didn’t even notice when Alexa and Taylor stepped closer, their protective stares following the line of her gaze. They were older, the kind of girlfriends who’d always had her back, always known when something was wrong, even when bambi didn’t say a word.

“What’s wrong?” Alexa’s voice was soft but sharp with concern. She’d known bambi long enough to read her like a damn book.

She couldn’t find the words. Instead, her gaze stayed locked on the her. the moment that replayed in her mind like a never-ending loop.

‎ 𐦍

The date had started out fine, better than fine even. The city had been alive with possibilities, the kind of night that had the potential to turn into something great. They’d met at that little Greek restaurant on Bleecker, and bambi had tried not to overthink it. They talked about the usual stuff: work, music, movies. Drew made her laugh with his laid back jokes, and she’d felt something, that spark. For once, she wasn’t pretending to be someone else.

But as the night wore on, something shifted. His phone kept buzzing—just a quick glance at the screen, but it was enough. There was a look in his eyes, the kind of shift you couldn’t ignore. And then he’d stood up abruptly.

“‘m sorry baby, I gotta go” he’d said, his voice apologetic but not sincere, “A friend’s in town and I promised I’d meet up with her, you don’t mind, do you?.”

She’d nodded, her stomach sinking even as she smiled. “of course not, go ahead,” she said, not wanting to seem needy, not wanting to seem like she was the one who “needed” anything.

But she hadn’t seen him since. Not a text. Not a call. Nothing.

The walk back to her townhome had been a blur. She didn’t remember much of the city streets, just the cold biting at her skin, “stupid mini dress” she thought. the steady rhythm of her kitten heels clicking against the pavement, and the silence that wrapped around her. It wasn’t until she reached her door that the tears came. Silent and sharp, like something breaking inside.

‎ 𐦍

Bambi blinked, the edges of her vision starting to blur as the tears she hadn’t been able to shed in front of him finally threatened to break free. Her breath caught in her throat. Alexa’s arm looped around her shoulders, the familiar weight of it grounding her.

“You okay?” Taylor asked, her voice a little softer than usual as she pushed back a singular lock behind her ear

bambi nodded, though she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay at all. She couldn’t shake the feeling that drew had left her behind, that she was just... another girl in a long line of them.

But Alexa and Taylor weren’t having any of it. They exchanged a look, their unspoken language clear. Taylor nodded toward the door. “We’re leaving,” she said, her voice soft, but laced with disgust. “We’re not sticking around for this—their bullshit.”

And with that, they all started moving toward the exit. No more distractions, no more pretending everything was fine. The cold air of the night hit her like a shock, but it was a welcome one. They didn’t even wait for an Uber—just flagged a cab, the city lights streaking past them like a blur as they made their way to a late-night burger joint in the Village.

Bambi didn’t say much in the car, but the warmth of Alexa’s hand on hers, the sound of Taylor making some off-hand joke about a studio ghibli movie, made the ache feel a little more manageable. When they finally got home, the apartment was quiet, safe, warm and cozy. The three of them settled onto the couch with their burgers, wrapped in blankets. The sound of “Sex and the City” played softly in the background, the familiar banter of Carrie and the girls filling the space around them.

It wasn’t perfect. Nothing ever was. But as bambi leaned back into the couch, her friends beside her, she realized that she didn’t need drew to fix her. Not when she had people who loved her exactly as she was. She wasn’t invisible. Not to them.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[chocochiffonnn]

➸ Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem! Reader

➸ Word Count: 2.2k words

➸ Synopsis: After having one too many drinks and being taken home by your nonchalant boyfriend, you realize despite his stoic, calm, personality, that you quite literally have him wrapper around your fingers.

➸ Warnings: lots of cursing, reader stutters (go away if u don't like that) mentions and usage of alcohol and cigarettes, kissing but not super intense.

●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●

Rarely had there been a time where you drank, really.

"kjasduahdaidhaasd more alcohol!"

.... But when you did, the atrocities are at most, unimaginable.

Like right now. The crisp, appetizing air of the barbecue roamed around your nose. With a very, odd, obnoxious wiggling of your nose you giggled uncontrollably, holding your shot glass up high.

"Barbecue~ Nice! Yummy! Delicious! Whoo! Give-"

"You can stop now."

With not much of a notice, a strong grip swiftly takes away the shot glass from your fingers, the other preventing your left hand for taking any more alcohol.

It was a familiar voice.

"Oh my goodness, there you are Riki! Thank you so much for coming."

Riki?

As in, Riki?

"Guysss! Gosh, stop fooling around!" You babble in front of your friends, fanning your hands in the process. With flushed cheeks, you gave them a grin. Why did they bring your boyfriend up all of a sudden?

Your "boyfriend."

"I know Riki, MY boyfriend is attractive, and cute, and lovable and all that, but—"

"Y/N."

Damn. It really is him.

With a swift turn, the sight that confronted your blurry eyes, was none other than Nishimura Riki in the flesh. His hair is disheveled, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap, given his raspy voice and the tired look in his eyes. He wore one of the hundreds of his chrome hearts collection of black sweater pants and hoodie.

You rubbed your eyes, hoping you'd just imagined things, but he felt real. You tapped his shoulder, hard and broad. Poked his cheek, soft and cute, held his finger, long and veiny. You wiggled your nose, still smelled as amazing as ever.

But the fact that he was here was not even the problem. The fact that he possibly heard what you said is what is.

"It is real..."

"Of course I am real," Niki turns to your friends, "Thank you for taking care of her. Is it okay if I take her home now? I'll bring her home safe, don't worry."

"O-of course! We're done with eating too, just waiting for you, because, well... Y/N kind of goes uncontrollable when it comes to alcohol."

Niki, the ever so nonchalant, simply just nods his head, taking one of your arms and wrapping it around his shoulder. "Thanks for that."

Without much of a word, you left the restaurant with Nishimura Riki, the person who is, in fact, not your boyfriend, but the person who has been courting you for a little while now.

~~~~~~~

"Come hop on my back, Y/N." Niki mumbles once the both of you were outside the restaurant. Without much of a protest, you willingly jumped onto his back, reclining a bit when you felt you reeked of alcohol.

In the very back of your mind, you felt it run through a hundred million emotions at the same time. More so from the alcohol, but half from the fact that you were really here. Right here, right now, cradled in Nishimura Riki’s broad, sculpted, back.

Riki is a fellow junior in your college, pursuing a course in arts and design while you pursed tourism. The story as to how the two of you met was odd. That certain day a year back, you’d gone to one of the free smoking areas of your school to go through the last of your pack, only to find him there, cigarette in hand, as poised and sharp as ever.

Since then, he immediately was the apple of your eye. Barely did he spoke, yet his presence and aura felt intense, as if it was commanding— I’m actually right here. You tried talking to him, to which he responded in a very unwelcoming manner.

Until a certain moment in time where the universe had to pull you in together. The classic getting stuck in an elevator trope on your way to the fifth floor of your facility. Odd, right? Still, ever since, Nishimuka Riki has always just been there, perhaps not in a vocal and showy manner, but his actions proved otherwise.

That’s why you rarely showed these sides of yours to the person who is currently courting you, aiming to be in your best behaviour. Nishimura Riki, despite having bad habits such as smoking, (though, well, you couldn’t speak much you did the same) he was by all odds, the most stern guy you’ve ever countered. Stern as in, by all means, whatever shits life throwed his way, he was rarely distracted and kept his goal straight.

Meaning, you never know what he thinks most of the time.

“‘M sorry for acting like this.” You mumble beneath, refusing to lay your head on his shoulder and instead withstanding the strong effects of the alcohol making you sluggish.

Riki does not respond for a second.

“You don’t have to be, it’s fine.”

You squint your eyes, playfully whining and kicking your legs around. Riki pulls you closer to his back, “I feel like… Most of the time, you have me figured out and I don’t.”

He hums. “What do you mean?”

You poke his cheek, finally giving and resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re always so calm, composed, nonchalant even. While I always lose my shits at the smallest things. It’s like, I feel like I have to have myself together around you.”

Nishimura Riki listens.

This is what you always thought about him. Never jumping into conclusions, making assumptions of his own. He waits, patiently, before giving an opinion.

“And well… I didn’t want to show this side of you because you might think of me different.”

“Different? How?”

“That I’m someone who doesn’t have her life together, or gets so noisy and playful when drunk or, that I have the most weirdest interests and hobbies. I didn’t want you to think like that, especially since I am older than you.” You admit, craddling your head closer to his neck. He smelled good.

“… You’re a bit funny noona, you know that?” Riki says. You slap his back with a snort, “I thought we stopped we the noona thing.”

Riki laughs, twisting his head to side. It was one of his habits, whenever he says something that perhaps embarrassed, made him shy, disappointed or whatever— he clicked his head to the side.

“We did. Say, can I put you down? Are you not stumbling down anymors and saying weird stuff?”

You were immediately reminded of what happened just a few minutes back at the restaurant.

“I did NOT say weird stuff!” You counter. Riki laughs, putting you down gently and turning to face you.

The embarrassment was replaced with shock as he comes to place a hand on your warm, red cheeks. The both of you stood beneath a sparking street light in the quiet of the night.

Riki stares. Just stares at you.

“W-what are you doing…” You say, turning your head to the side. He pinches your cheeks, “Ow! Ow!”

“I’m sorry.” Riki laughs, truly not sorry. “What were you saying earlier? I’m your boyfriend?” He teases, pulling your cheeks a little tighter.

You pout, “I’m sorry… It’s just that— Ah! Nevermind.”

Riki’s ears piqued with interest. No way in hell where you going to—

“What was that?”

He inches impossibly closer to your face, distance was no longer a word. You felt his nose brush a bit against yours, he was staring so intensely at you again with that stern gaze of his. His hand looses itself from your cheeks.

Fucking hell. You felt as if you couldn’t breath.

“I said it was n-nothing…”

Riki grins, “you can tell me.”

He always had his with words, always had his ways with you.

“My friend who called you also used to have a massive crush on you, but that was before!” you raise both your hands in defense, “She respects this, and us now, and—“

Riki laughs, really laughs, reeling his head back in such a dramatic way. The shame inside your body bubbled, and you could not find the right words to even say, the right movement to even do.

Maybe Riki thought it was funny because well, by all technicality as to what relationships actually mean— you are not his boyfriend, yet. You have not answered him as to what the both of you truly are, yet your actions, time spent together, the things you did with each other— for people who do not know you well would think otherwise.

“You are so adorable.” He says, patting your head.

“Am not!”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

Without much of a word, Riki suddenly places a soft, gentle kiss on your cheek. It tenses you up, keeps you in place. It was moments like these where you feel vulnerable around Riki. Sure, you were older than him, perhaps know a little bit more than he, but his unpredictability keeps you on your toes.

It excites you, and it makes you feel childish in a way, too.

“The most adorable.”

Riki grins as he looks into your eyes. He pats your head, “let’s get you home, yeah? I have a duty as your boyfriend.”

And you smack him in the arm.

~~~~

“Thank you for taking me home, Riki.”

Your footsteps hit the ground of your apartment as you face Riki, fingers intertwined with each other. It had been around midnight, and although Riki lives just a little farther away from you, you felt appreciative of his efforts of coming all the way to pick you up.

“Don’t sweat it, I want you to get home safe.” He says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well… I guess this is—”

“Say,” Riki coughs, turning his head to the side. “I’m a little thirsty… Is it okay if I crash and get some water?”

“Oh? Ah! Yeah sure, hold on.”

You visibly panick.

Riki wants to go into your house?

You felt yourself internally squeal. Lucky enough for you, the fact that you cleaned beforehand means you’ll be saved from the embarrassment. But another fact remains: You’ve finally reached the point where he wants to go into your house?

Without a word, you fumble with the keys as you turn to open the door and let him inside. You do not dare to look at him, only closing the door and heading towards the kitchen as he follows you.

However, before you were even able to get a step in, Riki swiftly holds your hand and embraces you. He embraces you.

“Wha-”

“Shh.” He cooes, arms wrapped around your shoulders, as his head placed itself atop your head. Hundreds of fireworks exploded in your head. You saw nothing but his black hoodie, and only felt his tight and warm embrace as well as his strong perfume which stained your nose into a coma.

God, it feels so right when you’re wrapper around his arms.

“Just tell me if you want to answer me already.” Riki mumbles, vulnerability in his voice. “You’ve been going back and forth— it’s driving me crazy, Y/N.”

“Seriously, it’s fucking driving me crazy.”

Riki spoke more so to himself, this is the first time you’d ever hear him, feel him with so much more than his stoic, and calm composed self. It was as if he is breaking in front of you right now.

“I can never go to sleep at night knowing I can’t have you in my arms, because we’re not together.”

Riki holds you impossibly closer to his body. You wrap your arms around him, listening.

“I want to say to the world you’re my girlfriend, and that I’m your boyfriend. Yeah?”

You nod.

“So just… Be honest with me and tell me if you want me.”

He pauses, “Otherwise-”

“I want you, Riki.”

You say without a doubt. Truly, you did want him. And although this may not be the best occassion to say it out loud, here you were, admitting your heartfelt feelings to the man who’s been by your side for months now.

It felt right, it felt absolutely right.

And you’d be damned if Riki hears your longingness for him once more through your mumbling drunk self.

“I guess I just don’t know how to say it, I’m sorry—”

Riki presses his lips against yours, rough, yet soft and delicate at the same time.

He kisses you deeply, and you kiss back, holding onto his hoodie for dear life. It was as if the alcohol had consumed you, yet at the same time, you felt conscious and aware that the two of you are doing this. He knows, you know, too.

The both of you know that doing this would mean you’d be answering his long awaited courtship, would mean that you’re trying a knot that signifies you both not as friends, not as anything platonic, but as partners. As soulmates.

And you kissed him like your life depended on it. Riki does the same, holding you tight as if letting go of you would mean you’d be out of his grasp.

But you won’t let go of his grasp, your legs felt too weak to do so. Your arms felt too tense to even more, and god, your lips were stuck on his.

Yet the only thing that kept you apart was the need for air, gasping as your lips fell apart from his and a string of your heavy breaths and saliva connected you both.

Riki lays his forehead into yours, holding the small of your back. You cup his cheeks,

“I want you bad too, Riki.”

The two of you smile, souls connected and intertwined.

“I guess I’m your boyfriend now, huh?”

And Riki just hoped you didn’t feel the warmth of his cheeks, or the red of his ears the whole night, or the fact that he, in fact, ever only tried to keep his composure around in hopes of impressing the wits out of you.

Ahhh... He must be really, really, down bad.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

[lonesilverw0lf]

Just some random bits and bobs that I thought of

Bully while he’s going through his growth arc is in a form of suffering. Maybe he starts off with nobody liking him, and for good reason, but as he saves his classmates more often and just starts being a good person most others of the Party start teasing him and treating him like normal. Think on how Bakugo from MHA(who for some reason is the face and rough personality that I’ve been going with for some reason despite Bakugo not having a shit upbringing) has that kinda asshole personality and yet the members of his squad like to pick on him in a sense. He doesn’t really know how to deal since he’s never really gotten positive feedback ever. Still quite a bit of a rebel heart, especially when the Nobility that tried to axe MC is involved.

Prep is weirdly excited to be roughing it, putting their preparatory, improv, and survival skills to work in a foreign environment. The extra hostility is just a bonus challenge. Also now has a low key rivalry with Mama in supporting and supplying the Party. Is quietly working with a few others in possibly making guns.

Chess Student has a Pokémon esque summoning type ability that they use in combat as a chess type game. Generic, I know, but it fits perfectly. Can’t think of too much else right now.

Teen Mom is limited in her mobility and nobody is going to risk the unborn, so she learns various forms of divination to help. Also learns a handful of other domestic skills to keep herself busy and aid the Party, like sewing, studying the Lore, and the like. Gods help you if you get between her and her chocolate.

CC and Mama both knew each other’s big secret, CC being stupidly rich who helps everyone and Mama’s dark side that she will never show to her friends, before being summoned to Fantasy Land. They both respect the other for it and have a don’t ask don’t tell policy. It’s only after being Summoned that the Party start having suspicions with the duo but can never come up with anything concrete. Suspicions, the occasional odd statement, and circumstantial evidence is all they can gather. Otherwise they just get weird looks from how scarily capable they are at their jobs.

Influencer discovers her gift by accident sorta early on. They visit some port where everyone is gossiping about MC and how he was ‘rightly discarded’ due to the Court’s spies spreading the rumors they want. Influencer simply tries to drum up some support for MC and set the record straight, only to almost have a full on riot on her hands. It’s the first time CC takes a direct hand in stopping a problem before it spirals out of control, not that anyone notices due to Influencers discovery. Since then she is always with a buddy to keep an eye on things. She comically cannot hold her liquor, which is another reason she needs a buddy at all times since her first time drinking also accidentally started another almost cult. This time around booze as their ‘patron’. Several deities salivate at the idea of making her one of their priestesses and almost started a divine war over her. She is famous in all the ways that she doesn’t want. Thank god that her gift doesn’t affect the Party. At least not yet…

Prez, walking through a small fortress up to a nervous Influencer: Are you ok?

Influencer, smile too wide and voice to chipper: Yeppers! Totally fine! A little sore from the ropes, but nothing a little rest can’t fix! Hahahaha! How are you?

Prez: Fine, as you can tell. And relieved you’re alright.

Influencer: That’s just fantastic! Totally zippe dee do da dally!

Prez: Influencer, did you start up another Cult?

Influencer, sweating buckets: Yesnt?

Prez: Yesnt? As a question?

Influencer, poking her fingers together: Ah well they were a Cult to begin with, ya know they kidnapped me for a sacrifice in the first place. Yeah?

Prez: But?

Influencer, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes: I may have… redirected their belief system ever so slightly??

CC laughing, Prez nodding begrudgingly: Yesnt.

Football guy, looking around at the cultists near frantically overhauling the place: ‘Redirected’? ‘Slightly’?!

Mama: I’ll go around this place and see how I can reorganize them to suit our goals. *teasingly* Under Influencers good name of course~.

Tomboy: Well, in the end it’s good that you’re alright-?! *gets glomped by Influencer*

Influencer, comically crying: How do you do it Tomboy?! How do you let yourself get kidnapped all the time?! Am I just a big chicken?!

Tomboy, awkwardly patting her back: Well normally it’s mostly planned, not random like you, and I’m usually caught by regular bandits wanting money and not next in line to be sacrificed either. Wait a minute you were gagged when they took you, who took that off?

Goth, casually perusing the Cults cursed artifacts: I’ll give you two guesses, but you’re only going to need one.

Everyone there, sighing: MC.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[cognitiveoverload]

The joke (Spencer Reid x reader)

summary: Spencer's joke doesn't land with the class, but you find him cute.

tags: fem!reader

note: Takes place at the beginning of 4x08.

1/?

The light bulb joke didn’t land. At all. It wasn’t bad. Well, not that bad, but it wasn’t great either. 

The silence in the room is deafening, and it’s so ridiculous that you can’t bite back the quiet chuckle that’s been threatening to escape your lips ever since that agent fell silent. His eyes shine with hope when they find you, accompanied by a sweet smile, and while it breaks your heart to say it, you can feel the weird looks the other students are sending your way. 

“Sorry, it was just so… quiet,” you say with a hand held up.

Disappointment. That’s what you see in the agent’s eyes after he heard you say that. It breaks your heart because he looks like a genuinely nice guy, but you have a reputation to uphold. It took so much hard work to be as social as possible, attending parties and hanging out with people, all while keeping your grades up, being among the top students. You can’t let finding a cute joke come in the way. 

You don’t pay much attention to the conversation after you hear one of the idiots ask them if they have shot anyone. That must be the most original, most important question you’ve ever heard. Congratulations, moron. Instead, you pull out a book and begin to flip through the pages, but you can feel it. You can feel a pair of eyes finding you over and over again, and when you finally look up and around to see who it is, your gaze falls on the agent, whose hazel eyes are fixed on you. Just when you flash a barely visible smile at him, though, he looks away. 

After their time here comes to an end, you quickly throw everything into your bag, then head down to meet them, because you know you have to apologize. You stop a few feet away, fidgeting with your fingers as you wait for Professor Harris to stop talking. There’s time, you’re not in a hurry to get out. The agent looks at you, his eyes mirroring a moderate amount of excitement, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheek to make you blush. Stupid biology. 

Harris notices this silent exchange, and decides to follow his eyes to see who has caught his attention. When he sees it’s you, he starts grinning and steps back with an arm extended to pull you a little closer to their little circle. “Let me introduce you to one of our brightest students. She’s studying psychology, and she wrote an amazing article that was published in a journal not long ago,” he says. 

Clearing your throat, you extend your hand to them and introduce yourself, and in return, they do the same. Dr. Spencer Reid. Now you definitely learned his name, you won’t be able to forget it, because the moment your hands touched, you could feel that unmistakable spark. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to apologize for that laugh. It wasn’t such a bad joke, it was just really… awkward here,” you say, unintentionally biting on your lower lip. 

Reid shakes his head as he reluctantly, but lets go of your hand. “It’s okay. Maybe these jokes should stay between philosophers,” he tells you with a humorless laugh. 

Next to you, Harris turns to the other agent and asks him if they could exchange a few words, but seeing the meaningful looks they exchange, it’s quite obvious they only want to give the two of you some space. You adjust the strap of your bag as you wait for him to speak up, because you have nothing on your mind. It’s not that you don’t want to talk, you just don’t really know what to say. He’s intelligent, that one’s clear, what could he possibly want from you? He probably wants someone who can challenge him, someone he can consider an equal, someone older than you, someone who’s–

“So, um… your article was published at your age?” he wonders, sounding a little surprised. Maybe he’s right, you're only completing your bachelor’s studies, not everyone takes the time to do these things. When you nod, he goes on. “I’d like to read it. Can you… send it to me?” 

“Sure, if you give me your email address, I’ll send it tonight,” you promise with a smile, still a little taken aback by the fact he’s interested. He didn’t even ask you what it’s about, but he wants to read it regardless of the topic. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, which he immediately offers to you. “Thank you, I promise I won’t ghost you,” you assure him again.

Though there’s clearly something else he wants to say, you both turn toward the door when his colleague is calling out for him. You feel a pang of disappointment that your conversation ends before it truly begins, but there’s nothing to do about it. “I’m sorry, I have to go. It was nice to meet you,” he tells you, then awkwardly waves before walking away. 

He’s nice. And charming in his nerdy way. You can’t help but imagine what it would be like if you got to spend a little more time with him, maybe managing to coax him into joining you on your social adventures. Would he learn to enjoy it? Or is he the type who’d rather spend his time at home, reading books? Maybe watching movies or binge-watching TV shows? And would he talk about his work, tell you about some interesting cases? 

God, you’re pathetic. You barely know the guy, yet here you are, already thinking several steps ahead.