#i can smell the theories being made

[eddie---111]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

GOOD OMENS TRAILER IS CRAZY BONKERS ON THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE

ANGEL CROWLEY

ALSO OMG THEM SHOWING A VIDEO OF AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY LOOKING AT EACHOTHER WHILE GABRIEL IS EXPLAINING THE FEELING OF LOVE TOWARDS A PERSON

@neil-gaiman SIR, BASED ON THIS YOU HAVE MADE SOMETHING TRULY WONDERFUL

[ramonathinks]

Say His Name | SUKUNA

Say his name three times and he shall appear, fucking virgins before he disappear.

tags: (18+, minors and ageless blogs dni) corruption, virginity loss, monster-fucking, double cocks, mouth fucking, pet names (pet, my human, female), oral(f! receiving), handjobs, nipple play, fingering, creampies, copious amounts of cum, tummy bulge, sex in sukuna’s domain, overstimulation, mirror sex

notes: early i did originally plan an entire kinktober but lol (18+ banner/divider made by @/cafekitsune. repost from my first ever kinktober 🥂

“SUKUNA, SUKUNA, SUKUNA.” Call it childish for believing in such tales. But you wanted it to be true. Looking in the darkly lit bathroom of your dorm bathroom you groaned, blowing the candle out. You flipped the light switch back on.

You’d been hearing about it all year. But you should’ve known better than to believe a silly little legend like this. But you were a blushing and bubbling mess of a virgin. So hearing of some mysterious sexy man who fucks virgins with no strings attached seemed too good to be true and you just had to test this theory. But really you should’ve known better. You were too old to believe in such things but you were all dolled up just for him.

You’d been waiting until everyone on your floor was gone and you put on your best and sexiest lingerie. You weren’t expecting to wear this for such a man that everyone has described but you were ready. You were thinking maybe for a boy who’s eventually won your heart you’d wear this to give yourself away.

Your hair was down in a medium length silk press, wearing puffy pink ugg slides and a short pink fuzzy nightgown that hugged every inch of your body, amplifying your busty breast all for show. You even went with no panties.

All for him.

All for a no show.

Sighing, you reached for your shower caddy and got prepared to wrap your hair.

But a deep chuckle from behind, startled you. Every fiber in your being was begging you not to turn around. Your stomach clutching with a sense of fear and your mouth running dry.

“Little human.” His voice alone had you shaking but surprisingly it wasn’t all just fear, something else deep inside, something not so pure filled your body. Lust. You were still too afraid to look at him, your knees growing weak as he continued to speak.

“Too scared to turn around but all dolled up just for me. I can practically smell your sweet nectar from here.” He purred, his breath on your neck and you could feel the warmth of his body heat all over you. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” Taking his tongue, he licked up your ear before biting your lobe. “I could smell how sweet you are even before I got here. I couldn’t believe how delectable you smelled.” With hard hands, he softly grasped both of your breasts.

You released a small yelp with such surprise but your tummy fluttered. “Oh, my little human likes that…” He took note, pressed hot kisses against your neck. Squeezing your breast. With rough hands he stroked your nipples until they grew hard.

You were letting him have his way with you and you still hadn’t even seen his face. You moaned when you felt the soft drag of his claws, tugging at your gown.

“Tell me how badly you like my touch female…or I might just stop.” He pressed his hips into yours, allowing you to feel just how hard he was. “Don’t you want my cocks?” His voice was laced with something unfamiliar, he pressed his nose in your hair and did a quick inhale.

Desire pooled in your belly whenever he talked. “C-cocks?” You squealed. “I… I don’t think I can handle such a thing…” You muttered, trying to move away from him, keeping your eyes trained on your feet.

“Look at me.” He gripped your jaw in his fingers and forced your eyes to the mirror. Your pussy clenched against nothing when you saw his face. He was truly a beautiful demonic man. With sharp teeth and dark eyes that ate up your entire figure. There was colorful dark markings over his face and a sickening grin on his lips when he noticed you staring so hard. His spiked pink hair looked so soft that you wanted to pet him. “You desire is all in the air,” His told you. “Let me please you, my little human.”

“W-wait! I-um…” Your voice was hoarse and completely choked out as you stuttered, trying to find any excuse.

“You wish to deny me this?” He palmed your pussy. Dragging his hand all over the mound before trailing lower. “You are truly ravishing… in all these places.” You we’re panting and hanging on to every word he spoke, opening your thighs wider so he can feel you.

“Tell me…beg me…” His hand ran down lower, inching closer and closer towards your puffy clit.

Then he pulled away.

It was awful and your body felt cold, you even almost tripped over yourself, to which he chuckled. “Why did you st—”

Pressing his hot lips to yours he kissed you, squeezing your ass and adding his tongue. His tongue was sucking and sliding in every inch of your mouth, you could barely breathe. It felt so long and so deep, almost like he was in your throat. “I want you to beg me for my touch, I know you want it… so beg for it, or you won’t get it.” He said as he pulled away, drool on the corner of his mouth.

“Please…touch…me…” You forced the words he wanted to hear out. “I want your fingers, your tongue, your…cocks.” You whimpered a deep pout on your lips. He smiled at your honesty and he clipped your lingerie down with his claws in one swift motion.

His thumb caressed your folds softly and he groaned watching the wetness drip to the floor. Slipping one finger inside, you gasped, holding on to his wrist and grinding down a bit. Loud squelching noises filling the air every time he pushed in a bit deeper. “Tight little thing. All for me.” He dropped to his knees and licked his lips once he spread your folds open.

“Pretty little pearl.” He rasped before taking it in his mouth. Your hips buckled and thrashed against his face, your moans echoing and bouncing off the walls. He added another finger, hard. Slamming them both inside of you, stretching you wide. So much cream and slick ran down your thighs, he pumped faster inside of you.

Both of his cocks were leaking and aching but all he could think about was your pussy and just how good it taste. He groaned with his eyes closed, spreading his fingers inside as you sobbed above him.

“Please, please…” He didn’t know what you were begging for. He sucked, putting his entire mouth on you, licking up and down your sensitive clit. He pressed deep kisses before removing his fingers from your insides. He dipped his tongue deep inside of your tightness and he felt you tighten up, fisting your hand in his hair, rocking your hips.

“Sukuna!” Your eyes were filled with tears as he moaned for more of your virgin taste on his tongue. Hearing his name on your tongue had him throbbing but he resisted touching himself — wanting only to come in your tight pure virgin body.

“I’m going to— ah.” Your body snapped and shook but he continued to feast on your insides, his long tongue hitting all your sensitive spots and every muscle, you came around his tongue and he welcomed everything you gave him. Your walls fluttered against his tongue and your hands grabbed even deeper into his hair, toes curling and small sniffles filling the room.

He placed his tongue back to your sore clit and gave it a few more sucks before he smirked up at you, the pretty noises still in your throat as you tried your hardest to be quiet. Looking up at you with such desire that you felt yourself shrinking. “I was waiting so long for you…” He told you, standing to his full height. “Don’t know if I can let you go this time…”

You didn’t understand. You were still reeling down from such an orgasm. He inhaled against your neck. “Pretty little human. I’m not going to let you out of my sight. Too precious.” He took your lips again and you closed your eyes deeply, gripping his arm as you tasting yourself on his tongue.

When you finally pulled back and opened your eyes, you didn’t know where you were. All darkness surrounded you, dimly lit candles and a beautifully made canopy bed with dark sheets. You could see some sort of throne in the other part of this dark place, which took up almost the entirety of that space. The room seemed to go on forever, almost endless. You felt empty, he wasn’t there anymore. Confusion bled through your mind until you felt him take your hand, dragging you to the bed.

“What did you mean… with what you said moments ago?” You swallowed, trying not to look him in the eyes. But those deep red eyes made it almost too hard to do that. He stared you down before pushing you down to the bed.

“It means you’re mine. All mine.” His hot tongue trailed down your neck and it burned you, your weak legs thrusting against him. He lowered his hips flush against yours and you could feel just how big and thick his cocks were, it was almost disgusting how badly you wanted them. He sniffed and did a devilish grin at you. “Why fight it? You called me here. I have you. Don’t tell me you’re still scared… I won’t hurt you.” He promised.

The way his eyes held such sincerity you couldn’t look away. The flimsy material he wore, slipped off and you got a glimpse of everything he was hiding from you. The rippling abs and those dark marks similar to the ones on his face, you could feel yourself leaking when your eyes drifted to the pretty cocks he possessed.

Throbbing and veiny. Angry red tips coded in leaking creamy pre-cum. You didn’t mean to but you licked your lips and he groaned in your ear: “Female, it looks like you want to taste my cocks…” More pre-cum dripped down and you were panting at the sight, something coming over you. With a trembling hand, you reached out between you both and gripped the base of one, he twitched in your hand but you didn’t stop your assault.

He was thick. You couldn’t imagine doing this to both of his cocks at the same time, you needed both of your hands just to cover just one of them. He thrusted his hips upward, sliding himself through your hands with strained moments. He didn’t want to cum, only wanted it to be inside of you but fuck, this was heaven.

You stroked him, nice and slow. Feeling every bit of him and keeping your clouded eyes on his, both of your breathings harsh and in sync, hot and turned on. Rubbing your thumb on the tip, you watched as a bit more liquid leaked out, slipping between your hands.

“Knees. Now.” He rasped, he needed to be in your tight little mouth now. He needed it. You barley had time to move before he was thrusting himself inside of your mouth. “Fuck…ing, pretty little mouth.” He muttered, thrusting his hips harshly in and out of your mouth. His other cock begging for attention, you squeezed it hard and be released a beautiful moan continuing his rhythm.

Swallowing around him, he bellowed. “Fuck!” He had manners and didn’t want to mess up his female’s hair but he wanted you to take him deeper into your mouth. Pulling you slightly by your hair, he buried himself deeper into your mouth. Bucking his hips, you slid your mouth up and down — saliva covering his length — then you lapped at the tip, rubbing your mouth on it before slipping him back into your throat. Moaning around his cock, then you decided to switch to his other cock.

He was amazed and his toes were curling, watching you. He could see just how much of him was buried in your throat. He could hear the amount of sucking and slurping and you still had time to fondle his balls.

He was going to cum. He could feel it in the pits of his belly. Sweet moans leaving your mouth and he couldn’t take it anymore. With a deep groan, he pulled you flush to his hips and came deep inside of your mouth, his other cock jerking and spasming — raining cum on your face.

He looked at your cum splattered face and his cocks grew hard again and he knew the perfect way to end the night. “Need to be inside of you, now.” He didn’t want anything to stop him. He didn’t clean you off or anything, he wanted to fuck you as filthy and dirty as you looked.

And he would.

He pulled down your panties and looked at your leaking cunt. Smiling in delight, “All this just from sucking my cocks…naughty girl.” He lined up both of his cocks to your small hole.

“Both of them?!” You squealed with wide eyes. “They can’t both fit…” You swallowed hard and he did a roar of heavy laughter.

“Gonna just stretch you out with this one,” He rubbed his throbbing tip along your slippery glistening folds as you cried out. “Then once you’re all full, gonna add my other cock and make you cum all night, my little human.”

He lined himself back against your tight heat, almost slipping inside, he eyed your face before he thrusted forward and buried himself inside of your virgin flesh. Your nails were digging into him as you screamed, it hurt bad.

He was so massive inside of you and your walls wouldn’t let him go, clinging to him. “So damn tight.” He groaned, his hips snapped and with each thrust he was able to get deeper and deeper.

He couldn’t bare to look at you, hearing your small sniffles was hard enough. He wanted this pleasurable for you. His fingers were fast on their way to your little clit that was already throbbing for his attention, he pressed two of them against you and felt you roll your hips against his with a sharp moan, “Ah!”

He did a few sloppy thrust, his balls hitting the cusp of your ass and he could tell that you were feeling good based off how you were reacting. “Please make me cum.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Now with a newer angle he pressed deep into a gooey wetness that had your tongue out and you squeezing his cock even better than before.

He slammed his cock inside of you, now going at any intense speed. Rocking his hips into yours, trying to hit your sweet spot again. He pressed deeper inside of you, bottoming out. “Say my name.” He told you, softly against your lips before claiming them. His thrust going hard and reckless, stretching you out.

You felt so full, he reached down and jerked his other cock. Squeezing the tip and continuing to thrust faster, rocking the bed. “Say my name.” He said again, his hips slamming down on yours. He felt heavy inside of you and you couldn’t focus on him, drowning in a warmth of endless pleasure.

He bucked his hips and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up — to look into the mirror above you, watching yourself getting fucked before saying again: “Say my name.” This time annoyed and with a growl.

“Sukuna!” He pumped his cock inside of your little pussy, stretching it just for him and thrusting more — the hold your cunt had on his cock made him bite his lip when he withdrew himself slightly before slamming back inside.

Your eyes roll back when his tip hits your special spot again and your moans has him in a chokehold, “Sukuna, right there, please… again.” You arch your back and he grips your waist, pushing you back down into the mattress.

With a last long thrust, he fills your cervix with creamy cum that leaks out of you. His other cock bobbling before spraying you down as well, you clench around him for the final time and almost breathlessly you say his name again.

Body weak and your eyes fluttering. He pulls you closer to him and kisses your lips.

“My little human stuffed with my cum.” He purrs, wrapping a strong arm around you and you say something that he can’t hear as you drift and drift…

And drift to sleep.

[theophagie-remade]

I'm lucky enough that I've never had any major issues with food in general but whenever there's any kind of seafood in the house I get so paranoid over the thought of accidentally eating it/being made to eat it without my knowledge

[sugarverse]

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙠𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 <3

word count: 5.4k

mentions of: cheating/being cheated on by now ex bf, smut [18 or older], poc!reader, "I'll make you feel better." non quirk au, aged up to 20(reader) and 22(bkg)!

author note: kinda corny because i haven't written for direct characters in awhile but what can you do, thank you @fizziedoodle for the moodboard to go with this!

Bakugou and you have always been best friends. Your parents would babysit for the bakugo’s and vice versa. Even things like playdates and going out to eat. Since about 5th grade, you had been like family.

Or so he had thought. For a long time he just thought of you as someone who needed to be watched over– someone he needed to take care of. He would stay up late at night during your sleepovers to ‘protect’ you from anything that could be hidden in your closet.. He'd snatch your hand whenever crossing the street, he'd just always been someone he wanted to keep safe. He knew that much after witnessing your first few heartbreaks. But even so, his perspective started to change as you both grew older. He's had girlfriends before, duh. But he could never think of you that way.

Could he?

katsuki lets out a drawn out sigh at his own thoughts, running a hand throughout his hair and tossing the remote onto the small coffee table. he stretched his legs, feeling the blood run back into them as they had began to fall asleep from his lounging.

“tch..” he groaned, scratching at his stomach and headed towards the kitchen. he hit his foot on the ground a few times as the pins and needles went away, letting out an annoyed groan. he got even more frustrated at the sound of an unfamiliar knock, stopping his journey to the kitchen to look over at the door. he let very few people know where he live, and even his most frequent visitor– you, hardly showed up unannounced. he looked over at the kitchen, rolling his eyes and reluctantly walking towards the door. shit like this is what made him a pissy person.

the knock came again, more frantic than the last time. he balled his fits. Who the hell could that be? he thought before opening his mouth to yell, swinging open the door before being forced back by nobody other than.. you?

you.

he quickly looked down at you, rubbing your back instinctively. were you crying??. "Y/n?" he knew that hair from anywhere, the sweet smell of your perfume flooding his nose.  he searched for any wounds, confused on why you were at his house so late in the evening. especially crying. you must have been hurt.. was it your face? rough hands go to tilt your head back, holding your cheeks in his palms to check over you.

your face wasn't damaged, but it didn't matter. you were too busy sobbing and pulling away from his hands to hide your face in his chest. you couldn't help it! you were crying so hard in the car you were sure you'd wreck on the way there! this was the third time in about a week or so you had talked to him about your boyfriend, which wasn't often because you didn't want to shove it into your best friend's face that you were taken. you hated when he'd have a girlfriend and boast about her to you. it made your chest ache and anger seethe through your body. you knew it had been some form of jealousy, all of his attention would be off of you for the few weeks that she'd stick around and it was torture. you'd never want him to feel like that.. however, this week was different! it seemed like you were just continuously arguing with your now ex boyfriend and it made your body ache. so much so, that you had to bring it up more than once to katsuki. like the theory that he was cheating, you could feel that.. distance. you just knew it in your gut. the constant change of behavior, always seemingly hiding his phone.. but even in the end, he tried to paint it out like you were the bad guy. for not knocking on his apartment door while some bitch was laying on your side of the bed. what a fucking. asshole. this was not how you wanted to spend your Friday evening after work. 

bakugo extended an arm to shut the door, keeping the crisp autumn air from entering his warm apartment any more than it already had. "Breathe through y’r damn mouth before ya stop breathing all together. Why the hell are ya cryin? You almost gave me a damn heart attack!" 

he can't remember the last time you'd cried in front of him, let alone cried to him. you always just kept it together and knew what you were doing. you were so independent, so incredibly smart.. you didn't have time to cry about anything. not that he had known about anyway.

he waddled the few steps to the kitchen as planned, letting you lazily drag your feet between his legs and cling to his torso. he slid his arms under yours to set you atop of the counter, attempting to pull away slowly but you obviously weren't having that. "n/n, drink some water." 

you had been crying so much you felt like you'd throw up soon, it was like you needed a big stuffed animal to hug or someone to just tell you it'll all be okay. katsuki was your big stuffed animal. anytime you did come into any kind of mishap, he would always be the best at comforting you. making sure you've eaten a genuine meal when sick, letting you sleep on his very comfortable bed just to get a little bit of rest and alone time from the outside world, helping you study... you sniffled, knowing he'd give you as long as you needed but deciding to still let him go. you screamed at yourself to stop crying, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands slowly.

 "Hey. ..drink." you moved a hand away, seeing katsuki hold a bottle a few inches from your face. you took the water from him with a shaky hand and gave it a small sip. you grumble, moving it away from your lips and setting it on the counter to you before his harsh voice spoke up once more.

"I know you aren't dumb, i mean a genuine drink. Not that baby shit." he semi-snatched the bottle up, holding it to your lips once more. he paid you no mind, reaching into the cabinets above you for the hot cheetos he initially wanted. he set the water bottle back down after he knew you had drank a pretty good portion of it, unclipping the chips and leaning against the stove next to you. he watched you shake from your messy breathing, obviously trying to calm down by taking another small drink, holding the bottle to your lips. "What happened. Is it that ugly rat you're with makin you come in here crying??” Here he was, running his mouth again.  you hated that he was right.

you shook your head, wiping your tears once more as they still fell from your eyes. "he didn't even care t..that," you hiccuped, trying to keep your voice steady after another sigh. "he didn't care that I found out.!" you knew you were being a little loud, the voice crack that came afterwards didn’t help. you were so embarrassed, upset, frustrated.. more frustrated than anything other feeling in the world. you continue to explain what happened, “i got off work early, so i stopped by his house so we could get something to eat,” you ramble, looking over to your best friend as you explained walking in on him through angry sobs.

bakugo on the other hand? looked like he had stopped breathing. ruby eyes staring down at your lap before looking you in the eye to remind you he's listening. they had a small twitch to them, a blank expression in the back of his eyes as if in some sort of thought instead.

but you knew that look.. which makes you remember who exactly you're venting to. someone who would kill for you. you knew that, and you'd kill for him. anytime some little boy would mess with you, he was there to fight them off until you were old enough to do it yourself. you knew that guy was an asshole. another reason you didn't want katsuki to see him or hear about him. he always chews you out for dating "lesser than". partially because hes always felt so.. aggravated. that your boyfriends would get so much more time with you than what he did when you were in a relationship, funnily enough. he never placed it to be jealousy, just wanting his friend back. but he was craving it.  he never wanted to seem weird and controlling, his snarky comments were enough to bring you back to your senses.. but all in all, you weren’t his. so what did it matter? you go on and on about needing to ”grow through what you go through”. it's not like you'd listen when he warns anyway.

you shook your head, quieting down to just sniffles and broken whimpers. there was no point in being upset now, It wouldn't change the way your new ex boyfriend thought. or the way that you thought. maybe you just needed to come to terms with it.. that’s what you kept trying to make yourself think anyway. you take a deep breath, kicking your feet out and looking up at the ceiling. "would you mind if I stayed for a few hours? I.. I don't really wanna go home you know..?"  you laugh nervously at your own question, letting your hands smack onto the counter to feel the sting in your palm before looking over at the blond.

he rolled his eyes, letting out a small grumble and wiping a few crumbs off of his shirt. Now wasn’t the time to be pissed. he was trying to mature from semi-blinded rage. It was a time to be there for you. "i guess that means stay the night. I know how you are..” although his tone didn't show it, his sly grin let you know he wouldn't be saying ‘i told you so’ anytime in the near future. good riddance to the bastard anyway. you smiled, watching him calm himself down before helping you off the counter and into the living room. you slide your shoes off at the door, turning to the couch. he had laid the bag of chips on the table to flick through tv channels. after a very short amount of time, he sighed. "Here," he handed you the remote, kicking his feet up onto his coffee table and snatching his chips back up with his clean hand.

you took the remote, sitting slowly and sliding your legs over his lap. you go straight to MAX, your eyes still sore from all the crying. you sniffled, rubbing your eyes some more as you went to your account. you feel him let his hand rest on your knee, rubbing up and down your leg soothingly.

“You want me to order dinner? I haven’t eaten yet..” he watched you switch the television to some common baking show, looking a little annoyed at the host screaming at them through the tv. asifhedoesn’tscreamonthegame

“i don't care, i don't think i can eat anything without getting sick..” you spoke weakly, placing a hand over your stomach. “my whole body is aching right now.." maybe you were hungry? it's hard to tell after feeling so deflated. 

but he knew you needed to eat something. he pulled out his phone, going to doordash and shutting his bag of chips. "We can get Wendy's, McDonald's.. Wherever you want. pizza?" he wasn't one for pizza at the moment, he was kinda sick of it considering that's what kirishima always wanted to eat when they were studying. he was more of a burger and french fries kind of guy at the moment.. but whatever you wanted, he would get it for you. even if it was something small like an ice cream sandwich from the gas station up the street. maybe it'd help you feel better.

"mm.. maybe we can eat wendy's? I like their lemonade and their nuggets." you were trying to get out of the mood you were in, thinking about something small to eat. you shouldn't be giving that guy the time of day, let alone any more tears. "we can drive there, we don't have to doordash. it'll be less expensive that way.." you yawned, sliding your legs off of him slowly.

"All right… ya sure you want to go out? I wouldn't want you to think everybody's staring at ya.. Especially with all this snot-" he teased, pointing to the bleach stains on your shirt that have been there forever. you had originally been in one of your sleep shirts because you were trying to spend the night at your boyfriend's after dinner… ex, boyfriend.

“then i'll just go get one of your shirts.!" you laughed, getting up and walking to his room. You could hear him laughing as you took off your shirt, throwing it into the hamper. You grabbed one of his old t-shirts, putting it on slowly. you sat on the edge of his bed in front of his mirror, staring at yourself. you couldn't believe how red your eyes were.. how disheveled your hair was/felt like it was. It made you feel like you needed to try to look more.. presentable? maybe it'd help you feel better. You tried to fix your hair as much as you could but it slowly started to irritate you, causing you to rub your eyes and grab a black bonnet from “your side” of his apartment. his house had small reminders of you all throughout it from being around so long. you walk back out, sliding on your shoes on. "come on, let's just go."

he rolled his eyes, getting up and turning off the  "If you wanted something to eat you could have just said so when you got here, We didn't have to turn on the TV and all that if we were just going to leave." he put on his shoes, giving you a hard time before resting a hand on your waist. he slid you away from the table, hand lingering a little longer than it needed to but you didn't comment on it. he grabbed his keys, moving to hold the door open for you. 

“I didn't know you were hungry! Shut up!” you laugh, walking out to his cherry red corvette. He spent a lot of time working on and a lot of money to own in general. The feeling of the fall breeze goes right up your spine and to your hair, relieving some tension that rested in the back of your head. a small beep came from the car, unlocking to let you in. it smelled like familiar cologne.. it was comforting. you spoke up once again once he got in, vermillion eyes already staring back at you.

"May as well put your seatbelt onto 'suki, you drive like a mad man..” you roll the window down, letting the air tingle all over your skin as he pulls out of the parking lot.  

“You can’t drive any better, thats why your car is parked and we're in mine.” he responds, pulling into the lot of Wendy's since it had been just up the street. he tried to drive more carefully with you in the car once you said that, noticing how lazy his u-turns were and his carelessness for the yellow light. he grumbled, feeling himself zoning out, fighting with his moral sense of being. You had just gotten out of a breakup, what kind of man would he be to try to hit on someone who's obviously hurting? especially you. It was just too risky to even mention the new feeling. no matter how much better he could make you feel.

The car stopped at the speaker, the faint noise of SZA on the radio being turned down to nothing. still in thought, it takes a gentle hand from you to shake him out of it. “did you hear me ‘suki.? i want a chocolate frosty..” your hand stays on his arm, nails lightly scratching at his soft skin to gain his attention. 

.. you weren't helping. the way you smelled..the lotion you wore causing the car to smell like cocoa butter instead of his Versace. your voice was just something to die for.. the sweetness to your tone, the way you clung onto him whenever you needed something.. it was poison.

he chuckled to himself quietly, staring down at you for a moment before ordering. you look up at him confused, letting it be before being handed all the food. he turned the radio back up before you could even ask, driving back home. 

It felt unusually quiet between you two. normally you could hear the neighbors blasting music or maybe even their TV whenever katsuki’s wasn't on. but this felt different. It was genuinely quiet in Katsuki Bakugou's home.

“..you want to watch TV or something? ‘m tired of hearing you chew.” you said jokingly, breaking the silence. your eyes look over at him, seeing he had already been looking at you. his lips parted like he was about to ask a question. but instead, he grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

“You chew louder than I do. You probably listenin’ to yourself." he joked, putting on Netflix to have something in the background. he kicks his shoes off, letting them fall at the end of the couch and near the front door before putting his legs back on his coffee table. he ate in his lap, not caring if he made a mess considering he always cleaned up after himself. he looked over at you, seeing you twirl your spoon around instead of actual eating. “Not to be an asshole, but you look exhausted. Dont let that thing get to you so bad.. if you need to lean on me, you can you know.” 

you looked over at him, laughing breathlessly and looking back at your nuggets. “i think my eyes are just puffy from crying so much.. I don't think its really botherin’ me anymore..” you say softly, leaning onto him slowly anyhow. you pop your last nugget into your mouth as you continue to watch TV. he let his left arm wrap around you tightly, rubbing your shoulder to remind you that you were safe. he didn't want you to think that he thought you couldn't take care of yourself. or that you're vulnerable, or that you're a big baby. he wanted you to know that he was here for you. even though he told you so.

he glanced down at you, seeing you enjoy the show just fine. he knew he was just worried about you at this point. he finished his own food, scarfing it down like a teenager before looking at the TV again. it's not like you two haven't cuddled before, you guys were horny teenagers once and used to think about each other very obviously all the time. he shared his first kiss with you one summer at the movies.. its just that the stars just weren't aligned for anything else to happen. It always seemed like one of you had a boyfriend or a girlfriend in the way to get to who you both really wanted.

“Thanks for letting me spend the night suki, I just don't want to be by myself tonight. I think my apartment is just a little too quiet for me right now.. do you think I should confront him? or should I just act like you never existed. I think I left some of my clothes over there, but other than that- should I do anything..?” you asked as he looks down at you. staring at those beautiful brown eyes and the long lashes. your skin was so smooth, he couldn’t help but admire you.

he definitely had a crush on you again, and he couldn't fix it. he knew it was a crush. he just didn't want to believe it. he never wanted to ruin anything between you two. you guys have only gotten into a handful fights the whole time that you've known each other, never been apart for more than a few weeks. nobody knows him like you do, besides maybe his mom. “Are you stupid? Why the hell would you give him the time of day? I'll go over there and grab your stuff with Kirishima. I don't care to walk into the bastard's house. Just stop thinking about him.” he stated the end matter-of-factly.

you look back at him, looking for malice behind what he had said. was he planning on fighting him or was he serious?  “Are you sure, I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to?” there was a pause shared between you both. the air felt still, almost like no one was breathing. Kirishi

“No, I don't mind." he tried very hard not to lean into you, wanting to be patient with you.. making a move on you would make him low, wouldn’t it? but he could make you feel so much better. especially after everything you've been through. but then he saw you moving up towards him. did you feel what he felt for you?

you knew better than to kiss katsuki, using him as a rebound would be low. you loved him with your entire soul, and yes you've had crushes on him before but that didn't mean he still felt the same way. It had been years since you had ever confessed any kind of romantic feelings to each other. It was a bad idea, but you threw caution to the wind and leaned in for a small kiss as a thank you. 

or you tried, anyway.

everything had moved so quick. he was already getting a grip on your neck, kissing back greedily. But at the same time, he wanted to be gentle with you. he didn't want to break you more than you had already been broken. he knows how bad days can be. you didn't attempt to pull away whatsoever, enjoying his lips against yours. after a minute or so when you two had lost all oxygen, he pulled away from you. “I'm… sorry.? I don't know why I did that?” you look up at him, breathing a bit ragged. 

“Don't be sorry, dumbass. I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you.” he says with a smirk, leaning closer to you. He smiled as you two looked at each other for a little bit, attempting to catch your breath before going for round two. He pulls you onto his waist with hardly any effort, resting you closer to his belly button than the real deal. He didn't want you to feel how hard he was from your lips alone. 

katsuki always been so pretty to you. of course many people probably thought the same. Clear face, soft blonde hair, those eyes. you knew it was definitely too soon to be rushing anything, but somewhere in your body was almost missing a touch you had never truly had. your hips grind against his abdomen slightly, almost as if trying to hide it. you couldn't tell if it was working because you were too busy feeling him shove his tongue down your throat. 

he gently rubbed your waist, holding it in place after a minute. he pulled away from you slowly, looking down into your pretty brown eyes. “Are you sure that you want to keep going? I don't want you to think I'm some piece of shit trying to take advantage of you.. I really do think you're gorgeous y/n." Which was the truth, he would never want you to think he was some dirtbag. but he's always longed for your touch.. he couldn't help but feel on you. 

you nodded your head yes, kissing down his neck eagerly just to be pulled away again. “I need you to say it for me, that it's okay. Genuinely, y/n.”

you look down at him, sitting up higher so he knew you were serious. “I promise I'm okay, That this is okay.” You kiss his forehead, feeling him pick you up and heading towards his room. He left the living room the way it was, knowing he'd come back to it.. in an hour or two. He turned the corner of his apartment,  opening his door and laying you on his bed gently before beginning to undress himself. You sat up on your elbows, shocked at how quick he was to kiss you. It made you squeal. 

He let his hands rest at your waist, kissing down your neck and down the middle of your shirt. Or, rather, his shirt. He slid it up and off of your body, looking at your eyes just to make sure you didn't have any visible anxiety.  It didn't seem like you did, but he felt his hands start to sweat. He moved his hands to the bed, mumbling something about you looking soft before kissing your chest lightly. Almost as if he couldn't be more gentler with anything else in his life. 

You let out soft moans, hands tangling into his hair as he kissed you all over. As he worshiped you. You could practically feel how much he loved you, and it was weird. It didn't feel like you'd felt this before? Maybe when you were younger? But not anytime recently. It just always felt like he was obligated to be your friend. You'd known each other so long it would be weird to stop being friends.. But this was definitely more than friends. You grin, causing him to scowl up at you.

“I don't wanna hear it.” He mumbled into your skin before kissing near your navel. Could you tell he was nervous? There's no way you could. Could you? He slid his hands behind your back and undo your bra, feeling you sit up in his arms to help him out. 

Letting the bra fall off of your shoulders, you threw it to the side of the bed. Katsuki had no shame in staring, looking like a kid in front of a candy store. He stared up at you, drinking in your soft moans before starting back up near your neck. This time, giving you small hickeys on your collarbone and down your stomach. Anytime you'd squirm or giggle out that it was too much, he'd hold your hips down and make you take it. He wanted you to know how much he loves your body. How much you loved you.

You tried to move your hips once more, fidgeting a bit underneath him. You looked down at his perfecttoyou body, scars from soccer and hockey as a teen and so forth. They were all pretty minor but it's still nonetheless pretty hot. He tugged off your pajamas shorts, hand gripping under your thigh to push your leg to your stomach. He rested your thigh on his muscled shoulder, pushing your legs wider as he grabbed the hem of your underwear.

“Is this okay?” You look up at him and nod quickly, feeling starstruck from all the hickeys he left on you. He slowly takes them off, kissing in between your thighs and slowly opening his eyes just a little bit wider at the sight of all of you. He never imagined what it would look like, He always imagined just being inside of you already. But this? Was beautiful. He kissed on the top of your clit, swirling his tongue against it as he pulled your other leg up. his eyes fluttered at your whines, watching you squirm from his teasing but he just wanted to soak in the way that you looked before doing anything else.

“Are you positive you want this?” He asked, face still soaked from before. It made you giggle, seeing how careful he was with you. Not that you hadn't already noticed, but this was sweet. “I don't have to..” He cleared his throat, nerves obviously still there. “I can just keep eating you out.. Doesn't bother me.” He croaked out, trying to sound like the confident man that he was. But you were really fuckin' him up.

“I'm positive I want you to fuck me, ‘suki..” You breathe out, sitting up as he set your legs off of his shoulders. He stood up slow, trying to hide a smirk as he slid his pajama pants off. He was very obviously turned on, looking a bit uncomfortable a he removed his boxers.

You smile, kissing his happy trail and down to what you really wanted. His cock twitched at your touched, causing him to cover his face and lean into your hand. You slid his length down your throat almost tauntingly, it made his head spin and the only thing he wanted to hold was a fist full of your hair. it made you gag, tugging on his arm as he quickly let go. You pull away, coughing as drool spilled from your lips. 

He snickered at the sight, moving you to lay on your back as he climbed over you. “You're lucky I want this pretty pussy instead..” He moved your legs back to his shoulders, this time to press you in half. He smiled lazily at you, watching how you cried out when he pushed his tip inside of you. He let out a gruttled sigh in relief, bottoming out inside of you.

Your back arched as much as it could into his touch, panting into his ear with jumbled words of ‘more’ and ‘thank you’s. He was a lot bigger than you had assumed, causing your thighs to twitch from how much it was. 

He held your hips, moving your legs closer up his shoulders so he didn't have to hold them for you. He moved back slowly, giving you a few thrusts to get used to the length before moving. “I'll always make you feel better. Not like you need anyone el.. else anyway.” He grumbled out, leaving peppery kisses on your jaw line. You laugh in your head at his words, trying to muffle your moans into his shoulder.

He notices, aimlessly slamming into you. “Nu uh, brat. I wanna hear you, I wanna hear how you take it so good for me,” He leans away from your body, watching your legs shake near his chest as you locked your ankles behind his head. you couldn't stop moaning, whining about him being so far away from you. 

“Just like that. Good girl.. Tell me what you want, baby..” He coaxed, watching your eyes prickle with tears as you ask to cum. “Already?” He chuckles, moving deeper into you. He stared at you in complete awe, rubbing over your clit messily to help you along faster.

“Come on, Make a mess on my damn hand. Tell me how good I'm doing..” He was getting close himself, voice cracking and movements getting sloppier. You whine, body pulling him as close as possible before creaming against his cock. Everything was so sensitive and he was still going. He moved from your clit, bringing the mess on his fingers to your lips.  “Suck.”

you were having a hard time but you did it anyway, managing to bring him to the edge just as quick as you. you could feel heat fill in your stomach, nails scratching at him to grab at what you could as you rode out your highs together. You felt like the room was spinning, feeling him pull out sloppily. He rested your legs back onto the bed, snickering and grabbing the tissue on his bedstand. He left the room a moment, coming back with a rag to wipe you off with.

“S..Sorry, You okay?” He asks, head tilted to the side as he asked with genuine concern. You nod, feeling your body burn as you took the rag and cleaned up.  “You can shower first, I don’t care to wait..” He spoke up again, looking away from you to give you some privacy after previously knocking the mario coins out of you.

a/n: THIS IS SO OLDDDDAHHHH I'm so glad I'm finally done the idea has been sitting for too long. hopefully I executed it right ik the end probably looks rushed 😔

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Our Safe Haven

Wanda x little!fem!reader

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: None this is very fluffy

Authors notes: I had a thought while rewatching DSMOM yesterday. What if...Wanda hadn't been consumed by the darkhold?

“Baaaaaa Baaaaaaa.” 

You woke up to the sound of sheep with a smile on your face. Jumping out of bed and changing into your shortalls and pulling on your perfectly white mid-crew socks. Your tongue sticking out a bit as you pull on your cowgirl boots. You were ready to bolt out the front door when Wanda caught you, we'll her magic did, making you giggle.

“Mama! Mama!” you cried out with a giggle as she carefully placed you down at the kitchen table. She turned around with your breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. You wiggled in your seat as she set the plate down, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. 

“Good morning detka. Feeling small this morning?” She asked sweetly with a smile as you put some eggs on your fork and you nodded, shoving the food into your mouth, a little ‘mhmm' coming from you. Wanda simply smiled at you, the little light of her life that she found after The Westview Incident.

The moment you were done you bolted out of the house. Your great Pyrenees, Lola, getting up from her spot to follow behind you as you run to the sheep, letting them out to roam and running around with them.

.°⋆.°⋆𐚁

“Apples, right?” Strange asked, making Wanda look up. She was pruning one of the many apple trees that were on the property the two of you had purchased with the money Tony had left everyone.

“Eventually.” She handed him the small branch that was blossoming. 

“Smells…”

“Sweet?”

“I was gonna say real.” Strange said in an accusatory tone making Wanda's face fall.

“It's all very real. Thanks. I put the magic behind me.” Wanda looked over at you, watching as you herded the sheep with Lola laying nearby, watching. 

Strange followed her eyesight. Watching carefully. “Who's the girl?”

“Y/N. I met her after I left Westview. I was looking for a remote place to settle down and she worked at the general store in the secluded town. Eventually I found myself falling in love again.” Wanda smiled, a genuine smile before turning back to Strange. “Well, I knew sooner or later you'd... show up, wanting to discuss what happened at WestView. I made mistakes, and people were hurt.”

“But you put things right in the end and that was never in doubt. I'm not here to talk about WestView.” 

Before Wanda could ask why he was here you came running up, “Mama! Mama!” You hadn't noticed the man at first otherwise you wouldn't have called her Mama, you knew better as you shied away, pressing your face into her. 

Strange was befuddled by the exchange happening in front of him, but watched Wanda soothe you back down, “It's okay little one. He's a friend. He helped me save the world. Your favorite story to hear.” She spoke softly, kissing the top of your head. Wanda looked back at Strange, “So if Not Westview then what are you here for?” Wanda questioned as you looked up at her. 

It was rare that she talked about Westview. When you first met she had mentioned coming from there and that things didn't go as planned. She needed a fresh start. 

“What do you know of the multiverse?” The man asked as you turned slightly to look between them.

“The multiverse. Vis had his theories. He believed it was real. And dangerous.” Wanda's voice shifted slightly, her grip on you tightening ever so slightly. 

Vis…a name you'd heard twice. She always left him out of the stories she told. She tried once, but started to cry. The second was in passing, you heard her ask herself, “Would you have liked this Vis?” You pretended not to hear her. Deciding it was best not to acknowledge it.

“Well, he was right about both. We found a girl who can somehow travel across it but she's being pursued.” Strange informed the two of you and you looked up at Wanda happily about possibly a new friend, but Wanda looked worried. Her grip tightens further on you. A small squeak coming out of you. 

“Mama…” You spoke softly, tugging on her shirt. She looked down at you trying to hide the swirling emotions in her eyes. You saw it though and you didn't mean to, but it brought you right back to a big headspace. “Love what's wrong? What is it?” Your hands cup her cheeks and she practically melts at your touch. It grounds her back down. 

“I'm fine.” Her voice betrays her with a slight crack as she looks back at Strange. 

“You can bring her here. She'll be safe and Y/N can keep her company.” 

“Are you sure Wanda? It won't be too much trouble?” He asks as she shakes her head in response. 

“No trouble at all Stephen.” She plasters a smile on her face as Strange portals back to the temple. 

“What's wrong?” You ask sternly. “He's not here, it's just us Wanda. I know something isn't right.” She tries to pull away, but you hold her there.

“When we met I was in possession of something called the darkhold. It gave me a lot of resources, but it all came at a price. I found the price was too high once I got to know you. I knew I couldn't have both so,” her hands find yours on her face, “I gave it up so we could live our life. So I could leave my past where it belongs. But now with this I can feel that itch. The want—no the need for it again.” 

A pained expression covered your features. You could tell she was struggling and so you did the only thing you knew how to do when she got like this, her thoughts swirling and drowning her in her past mistakes, you kissed her. It was soft and she barely pressed back, but you felt it. 

“We'll get through this. I'm here for you Wands. Didn't I already tell you when you told me who you were?” Wanda looked down at you, waiting for the reminder, needing it right now. “You aren't a monster. What you did is in the past. We can't change that. We can only be better in the future.” 

She leaned her forehead against yours, a smile slowly spreading on her face. “Thank you for the reminder my little love.” She spoke in a whisper as you reached a hand to tangle in her hair, scratching gently as she closed her eyes. 

“We're gonna make it through this. Do what we have to and keep moving forward.” You tell her as she nods against you. 

“How'd I get so lucky?” she whispers.

“I ask myself that question every time I look at you.” you whisper back as you hear a portal opening behind you. Getting ready to face the next chapter of your life together.

[justawritterwithideas]

law in pink | s.r

♡ next part ♡

summary: when the BAU needs an extra helping hand, Washington decides to send the best of the best, but what they didn't expect was to see... pink.

warnings: a bit of stereotypes, beyond that a bit of comedy and fluff. there may be mistakes in writing because I wrote it too fast :(

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,649 words.

a/n: elle woods from legally blonde comes to my mind constantly because is one of my favorite movies, so I wanted to make a mix called "ssa elle woods"; I hope you like it and you can understand the idea of reader as elle woods, I also hope I didn't portray it wrong and that it will be misunderstood T T

The BAU needed a hand with the rising crime wave, so, straight from Washington they sent the best of the best from their office.

And of course Penelope had to investigate.

According to her research, you had graduated from Harvard with honors and had given the honorary alumni speech at your class graduation. In addition, you were a part-time Harvard professor of Political Theory during the fall and part of a prolific group of researchers in your Washington office, which had the highest rate of successfully resolved cases in the last 5 years.

In addition, you had achieved on your LSAT a score of 179 out of 180 points.

Something inside Penelope reminded her a little of her friend, Spencer Reid, in you.

But what she didn't expect to see when she looked you up on the interwebs was the fashionista and family friendly life you had. The way your apartment was decorated with a pretty pink aesthetic, your outfits videos that reached millions of views and your day to day routines were the mantra of many girls, being all perfectly edited.

With that and more, anyone would think that your job was not to be a federal agent, but an influencer.

Penelope was already smelling perfume from her computer, and that made her more than eager to meet you.

It was seeing one just like her in front of her screen.

You were the perfect candidate to be her new best friend.

The clacking of your heels and the smell of your Chanel perfume filled the entire BAU office, causing the complicit glances of all the workers who were there.

"Have you seen Barbie yet?" "Is the model missing?" "What about her? Maybe she's a lost intern. First-timer problems."

Everyone was making comments you'd heard more than once in some police office, maybe it was the way you dressed didn't go along with the aesthetic they had or how feminine your attire might be, but that's who you were and for a couple of comments about your appearance and the stereotype they had they weren't going to sour your day.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?"

You turned to see a tall, dark man, who was watching your outfit from last season's Prada fit you to perfection.

"Oh! Finally someone nice." You commented with a smile. "Yes, I'm looking for Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"He's my boss, would you like help finding his office? I can help you."

"That would be great, thank you very much..."

"Agent Morgan, Derek Morgan."

"It's a pleasure, Agent Derek. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

You didn't like to introduce yourself officially as an agent, it made you look rather intimidating if you did, and that was what you didn't want.

It wasn't a long walk to the wooden door which was adorned by a plaque with the name of the person you were looking for.

"This is it, you come for a case? Any family members involved?"

"No, I'm coming to help. Thank you very much, by the way."

You gave him one last smile before knocking on the door, hearing a "pass" from inside.

"Who was the girl you were escorting, Derek?" Emily watched the man reach them, peering curiously inside Hotch's office.

"Her name is Y/N, she said she was coming to help, but... I don't know, she doesn't look like someone coming to help, maybe she's a witness."

Spencer's eyes scanned the situation, trying to conclude who the mystery woman inside his boss's office was about, but coming up with nothing on the spot. Like his friends, they were all searching for an answer to the abiding doubt in his head.

Who exactly was that girl and why had she said that? She didn't seem like a person whose job was an office job, but not one that was very risky either.

But before they could say anything, Aaron came out of the office with his ever-serious face.

"Meeting in 5" was the only thing he announced, so the group took heed and went to the place.

Once inside the office, Penelope found herself with her dear friends, who were trying to figure out the causes of the recent meeting.

"You don't know Pen either, do you?" J.J. was the first to speak.

"No idea, Hotch just asked me to be here."

"Just like everyone else." Rossi replied, settling around the round table with his coffee cup.

The conversation didn't last long when Hotch entered the boardroom.

"Good. I know there's no case yet or apparent reason to get them together first thing." Hotch began. "But as you may know, the last couple of months have seen an increase in crime for the BAU, which is exactly why we've been given extra funding to bring an extra agent onto the team."

Sounds of excitement came from everyone's mouths.

"So I've been contacting old colleagues, who recommended the best of the best. So they've transferred an agent from Washington to help us."

"Boy, they must be desperate." Derek's comment drew a few chuckles.

"I'd like to introduce you to the SSA, Y/N Woods."

Everyone's countenance changed to one of surprise when they saw you walk in, smiling in the friendliest way possible.

The same girl who looked like a model fresh off a runway was the newest member of the BAU.

"It's nice to meet you all, I hope we can work well together." You set your Prada bag to the side, being able to scan each of the members quickly.

"Woods, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, dr. Spencer Reid and our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"Hey, I know you." You commented in the direction of Garcia, who was smiling politely. "You were the girl who commented on my recipe for the vegetarian tacos."

"Yes! They looked exquisite."

"Thank you very much, I hope they were helpful. We need to be a little more conscientious with our four-legged friends."

Spencer didn't know if he was dazzled by the whiteness of your teeth or the warm way you had entered into trust with Penelope with a simple recipe.

"Woods, Garcia. You'll have time to talk."

"I'm sorry, sir." They both replied at the same time.

"Fine, I'll go prepare the case, Garcia come with me."

They both walked out of the meeting room, leaving you alone with the rest of your new group of colleagues.

"I didn't know you were an agent." Derek was the first to break the silence surrounding them, causing you to turn in his direction.

"I didn't mean to mention it, I'm not a person who usually blurts it out just like that on the first interaction. You never know what kind of person a stranger is." You commented before you could look at him again. "No offense."

"No problem."

"From Washington, right?" Your gaze went to the blonde, who was watching from her position with a warm smile.

"That's right, even though I'm from California but I moved to Massachusetts after getting into Harvard, and then to Washington when I got an opening in the federal office there. So I'm from here, there and over there, but I'll always be a California gurl." A chuckle came out of your mouth after making a reference to the Katy Perry song, bringing your hands to your sides.

"Harvard? What did you study?" Spencer looked more and more interested.

"Law." You commented offhandedly. "I actually studied Fashion Merchandising at UCLA with a 4.0 GPA. But I wanted to prove myself and decided to get into Harvard Law."

"Switching from Fashion Merchandising at UCLA to Harvard Law is a big jump, how much did you get on your entrance exam?" Rossi asked.

"179."

Everyone's surprised face made an impression on you.

"What, like it's hard?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, before you remembered what you were holding as a "peace offering". "By the way, I made cookies yesterday for being the first day and making a good impression." Your hands went to your bag, pulling out a heart-shaped tupperware. "They're lavender and butter, it's a recipe I read on a fairly well known blog forum, they say Paris Hilton gets her recipes from there."

You held out the tupper to each of them to take out a cookie, leaving it on the table in case they liked to take out more.

"If they like more, just pull out. There's enough for everyone." A little smile tugged at your mouth. But before you heard any response from either person, the catchy ringtone of Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" interrupted any culinary criticism. "Excuse me..." Your hand went for your phone, which didn't surprise others by being pink, and you left the room letting out a "Woods" as you answered.

"This is new." Derek said.

"And delicious." Emily took another bite of her cookie.

"She's different than what we usually know." Rossi looked at the rest, taking a second cookie out of the tupper. "But I don't mind at all, in fact, I think new always comes in good."

"True, it's always good to have someone new and with a different vibe."

The group turned to look at Reid, who was holding the cookie with his right hand. The young man wasn't usually one to blurt out a comment, just like that, least of all referring to a girl.

"Oh kid, you find her attractive." Derek was the first to smile in amusement.

"What, no." The voice in a higher pitched tone than normal was what gave Spencer away.

"Spencer likes Y/N." J.J annoyed, walking out of the office laughing along with Emily.

"That's not true!"

"See ya, lover boy." Derek commented along with Rossi, who was gently patting his shoulder with a knowing smile.

And so it was that Spencer was left in the meeting room with his cheeks as pink as his new co-worker's heels.

♡ next part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[honeyydrunk]

nct are such fraternity boy college athletes fuckboys coded it's insane !! everyone i see a video of those men with the homosexual tendencies, vaping addiction, and their athletic garments, it really only cements this theory. their disography and music videos add to this too 😔✋ u know 90's love, universe (let's play ball), alley oop, bad alive eng ver.

can imagine them walking around this elite prestigious campus all loud and obnoxious. they know everyone is looking at them and want to fuck them too. they're chronic drinkers, vapers, cheaters, fuckboys. what would get most students expelled, they do on a tuesday afternoon.

nct are mostly made up of foreigners right? watch them walk around the campus as rich international students, some are here on academic or athletic scholarships they don't need. everything they own is designer. playing the 'sorry my korean isn't so good, can you help me?' card, and what they want help with is you sucking their dick.

the korean members aren't any better. they're every single horrible stereotype you hear of korean hongdae fuckboys. will come up to you all sweet and pretty, but they're horrid.

cw for under the cut: they are toxic males

can literally imagine haechan vaping on the college campus, moaning in the back of the class obnoxiously, and pulling the thing where he jokingly asks for your number ALL THE TIME. going to college parties and getting wasted after 3 drinks idk 🤷 ,,, he'd be so whiny and teasing too. bc obviously he's a rude BITCH but he's so pretty and whiny and flirtatious. he's fucking everything in sight, absolute whore!! his body count is triple his age. he'd genuinely try to suck one of his friends' dick and claim it doesn't mean anything because he has clothes on !! 😔✋ he'd be stroking his dick while you're in the room, whimpering your name. the type to get on his knees and beg for any kind of attention from you..

mark lee starting off being a cute college boy canadian transfer but becomes the NOTORIOUS korean pastor's son fuckboy in like the span of 3 months. he'll act real nice, and that's because he is real nice. being super sweet and asking if you want to get coffee with him and study. and he's so good with his words you'll think that's all it is. but then of course, since he's so good with his words he'll have you blushing and giggling as he takes you back to his apartment and gets your clothes off. talking yapping so much you don't even realise what he has you doing, that you're just another girl he's pulled. he'll still be whispering when his face is in your pussy. telling you how easily you cum. "dang girl, wait a lil' can't you?" implying you're the whore,

YUTA yuta is the entire campus crush. the star football ⚽️ player and the rockstar vocalist in a band. has sex with all the groupies that come to his concerts. he's dragging people up on stage to shotgun them while the guitar break plays. absolute heartbreaker. would definitely kick the ball to your head so that when it hits you, he has to go over check if you're alright, take you up to the nurse and wait with you. he is such a liar, it genuinely hurts. lying all the time and making up words and stories left and right. but he smells like cherries and watery perfume !! he tastes like it too. you'll be coming to all his garage concerts just to see if you'll be the one he takes backstage to fuck after. he's like a god, half the time you don't even realise he's a student like the rest of you. he's just an angel sent to have fun and fuck or smth.

jaemin nah he's horrid. he'll cheat on you, and with his cute smile you'll forgive him instantly. 😔✋ he'll spend a little cash dress you in designer, make you cum until you faint, and tell you how beautiful and perfect you are for him. he will genuinely have you thinking those girls meant nothing to him, theyre just a way to vent his stress and you're the only one he loves. and then bro will say he can't stay the night, as he needs to wake up early for training. you agree, obviously. and he left for another girl's house to fuck her too. when you met him he smelled so sweet, and it was someone else's perfume. each of his girls swear they're his favourite of his, and one day he's planning fucking them all in the same room.

JOHNNY SUH? he would abuse the american transfer student status. he walks around without a shirt, soaking wet, and never get pulled up. he's rich too, got bands on his wrist and multiple cars. going on holidays overseas every chance he get and hosting parties every weekend. when you get drunk at one of them, almost falling off the balcony, someone will come up and help you to a chair. he'll take real good care of you, going above and beyond. so you can't let this guy leave when he's everything you've ever wanted. so you pull yourself onto him and ride him while the party rages on inside. make sure his dick feels so good he'll ask for your number. but you don't know that you're the fifth girl who's thrown herself at him that night.

taeyongie ^-^ he's the prettiest guy you've ever seen. bros too sweet and shy to be handing out with the rest of the neo WHORES. he's the leader of a lot of clubs but he mainly sits in cute little cafes. genuinely he seemed too adorable? to be considered the 'leader' of some horrific ahh fuckboys. until you check twitter and you see someone's reposted his MANY MULTIPLE HE HAS A LOT sex tapes. he's surrounded by ridiculously hot guys and girls, and they're passing him around like a joint, and he's begging to be humiliated. they're making him cum so much he crying. he's stronger than most of them but he's letting himself be thrown around like a doll. absolutely wrecked. looking in the camera with pretty black eyes and a slurred voice before someone shoves a cock back in this throat "am i pretty?" zhong chenle is the epitome of the chinese international student stereotype. he's almost never there, never takes off his sunglasses. he has several of those douyin type baddies trailing after him. "you have nice collarbones and pretty eyes, i like. what's your instagram?" he'll be talking with his friend renjun about what yacht he should buy during class. he can buy your affection simply because he's just that rich. will shove his black card down his pants and tell you there's only one way to get it. buys rolex watches so that he can have it on while he fingers you. dresses you in diamonds and he doesn't want to be paid back in cash. qian kun is there on an academic scholarship, but he doesn't need it. he's just that good, the school begs to have him attend. he's not a fuckboy in the conventional sense but he's just as nasty. he wants to have the perfect girl for him, to bring back to his family. he'll look for the most naive but academic girl he can. he's a manipulator. he's trying to mold you into what he wants. he'll replace your entire wardrobe with designer, but he picked out all the clothes. he'll plan cute dates for you every day, but it's to stop you from hanging out with your skanky friends. he'll buy you a new phone, but he's already added software tech to spy on you. in some essences, even though he's not a fuckboy, he's much worse than one.

jisung, like taeyong, looks so sweet. but he's NASTY. he'll seem too quiet to be hanging out with the rest of the dreamie WHORES. so you don't mind sitting next to him in your lecture. but he's just a mix of all of dream. he's good with his words like mark, and he'll have you agreeing to meet at his place EASY. he's too cute to refuse like haechan and jaemin. and then the renjun part hits, silent and sneaky, he'll be doing everything to make you think you're coming on to him. once he finally has you, he'll make a mess of you like a feral animal, the way you've heard jeno fucks. and you realise he's just like the rest of the dreamies, you shouldn't have thought otherwise. he might actually be worse than all of them.

tell me if u want me to make these like a full post or add more characters IM SO CRAZY DELULU RN SORRY xx !! 💋

[mcflymemes]

NATIONAL TREASURE (2004) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

i'm gonna steal it.

who wants to go down the creepy tunnel inside the tomb first?

if it's any consolation, you had me convinced.

you're not hurt, are you?

i am so getting fired for this.

is there a question in there?

we have no money.

how about a bribe?

it was cool. you should try it sometime.

we can't go back there.

i've never been so happy to be proven wrong.

you handled that well.

are you trying to steal that?

it's thirty-five dollars.

you know the key to running a convincing bluff? every once in a while you've got to be holding all the cards.

stop talking. start the van.

you're treasure hunters, aren't you?

i'm still working on it.

why don't you just come back down here and we can talk through this together.

don't speak again.

is that the hot girl?

are you with me?

what do you think? i'm a hostage.

do you trust me?

once we catch them, what do we do?

is this real?

i made something for you.

tell me what i need to know.

just another clue.

i can explain, but i don't have time.

i wasted 20 years of my life, and now you've destroyed yours.

what was the secret?

i found something!

i broke a shoelace this morning.

it can't be done.

i understand your bitterness. i really do.

i want you to have a chance to do that.

i've got some duct tape in the back.

promise you won't be any trouble.

i finally figured it out.

the treasure is a myth.

we need more juice.

you're all lunatics!

still a little on edge from being shot at, but i'll be okay. thanks for asking.

see? okay? now could you please stop shouting?

give me that!

you would do well, [name], to be a little more civilized in this instance.

who were those men?

we did the only thing we could do to keep it safe.

we probably deserved that.

i was thinking, what if we go public? plaster the story all over the internet.

it's not like we have our reputations to worry about.

people don't talk that way anymore.

beautiful, huh?

i have no idea what you said.

if there's something wrong, those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action.

what do you see?

what time is it now?

we missed it.

i know something about history that you don't.

i'd be very excited to learn about it.

hold on one second. let me just take in this moment.

this is cool. is this how you feel all the time?

[name], you're a genius.

how do a bunch of guys with hand tools build all this?

the aliens helped them.

i volunteered.

it's invisible.

i'm sorry for your suffering.

when are we gonna get there?

i'm hungry. this car smells weird.

i'm so sorry i dropped you.

i would have done exactly the same to you.

why can't they just say "go to this place, here's the treasure, spend it wisely?"

anyone crazy enough to believe us isn't gonna want to help.

we don't need someone crazy.

[name], are you crying?

look. stairs.

i'm guessing that's significant.

i'm just trying to hide from my ex-husband.

stay as long as you like.

you want something?

i see what you left him.

this isn't a day for "um."

we didn't find the information credible.

well, this might be possible.

i leveled with you one hundred percent.

everything i told you was the truth.

it's not a conspiracy theory.

you know what? i take it back.

i'm in a little trouble.

this... is huge.

you are gonna go to prison. you know that, right?

that would bother most people.

you know what you have to do.

i'm just trying to think if there's anything else we could do.

i'm not letting it out of my sight.

how do you look?

a toast to high treason.

here's to the men who did what was considered wrong in order to do what they knew was right.

why do you need them?

look... this is a waste of time.

i'm still not against you.

i really couldn't accept something like this normally.

we don't actually have it.

did bigfoot take it?

is there a door that doesn't lead to prison?

get out of there. get out of there now!

[name], can you hear me?

can i marry your brain?

our evil plan is working.

why does that never happen to me?

meet me at the car. call me if you have any problems.

no broken bones?

a jump like that could kill a man.

[whatt-the]

Gift for @uno-san

College Stanford x milf reader

Content warnings: age gap obviously, stanford is a warning because I am tired of people pretending he isn't odd as hell, fem reader

Author's note: this takes place in an AU where Stanley never ruined ford's project and he got into his dream college. He is taken under the wing of an esteemed scientist, shenanigans (cheating on ur husband in a loveless marriage) ensue.

devious devious art about this coming soon! Both targeted and about the ambiguous "reader".

This is also only part 1 and there will definetly be more to come

Imagine how Stanford felt when first being invited to his mentor's house, after a particularly lengthy discussion on whatever topic the lecture his mentor gave happened to be about. I can imagine all sorts of emotions running through his mind... anxiety, excitement, a bit of shock- he knew he was smart, but he never thought his theories were reasonable enough to challenge his mentor's views: you see, he really idolized that man. Continuing their discussions would be an honor, and the mere mention of publishing multiple papers with him had stanford's mind racing, he could barely contain his joy!

Now, understand that he had plans for the unexpected visit: he'd prove his worth, his technical prowess, anything to get more of that sweet, sweet approval. We both know he didn't have much of that in his youth, neither did he get much of it now... it seems he is always the single oddest character in any given room, even amongst other well educated, motivated students. "Teacher's pet", "tryhard", he couldn't believe it at first- such childish insults at such an esteemed institution? He thought those got left behind in high school. How innocent he is. Regardless:

His plans were to prove himself.

Well, like I said, were.

Right now? His mind couldn't be further from his studies.

He'd made it to the house alongside the professor, the discussion now spanning multiple topics- he was having fun. Rare, considering any of his other interactions with quite literally anyone else.

(Truly the outcomes are deplorable. His social skills are lacking to an astronomical degree, to the point where it is borderline comical how little he knows about human interaction. It is a cliché, the nerd who doesn't know how to socialize, but it wouldn't be so popular of a trope if it didn't often get reflected in reality. Not like he knew it was very popular to begin with: even the claim that he learned to interact with others through books would be false, since he strayed from any sort of romantic narrative. It was out of a feeling of inadequacy, really.)

Then, the door was opened.

And that's when he met you for the first time.

"You! You're Stanford right? I've heard good things from my husband here-"

"Come on, don't flatter the kid yet." Your husband spoke with a chuckle

"Hey! He deserves to hear how good he's doing! Come here." You walked forward and hugged him, it was your way of greeting people. It was warmer and more welcoming- both things the world lacked severely.

(Stanford found himself paralyzed where he stood for a few moments. He'd already found your personality endearing -your appearence even moreso-, and now you're pressed up against him? He simply must be dreaming. You felt so soft against him-- heavens, how long had it been since he'd received a hug? Far too long, clearly, but he doesn't remember them ever feeling this good)

The societal pressure to reply to this action in some way caught up to him fast, however. He was quick to place a hand on your waist, his range of motion being limited from your arms wrapping around his own. He may experience the social pressure, but he really has no clue what's appropriate and what isn't, huh? Cute.

(Had he a modicum of self control, he'd most definetly have had a much more timely and well adjusted response to your touch, but amidst the smell of your perfume, your soft arms around him, your hair tickling against his face, the feeling of your hands on his back... nothing carried the same weight as your presence did, who could blame him for doing what his mind instructed him to do and touch you back somehow? He'll come to find that he will blame himself very much for this interaction. No one more judgemental on his behaviors than the one responsible for them)

Once you pulled back from him, you were quick to usher them inside and offer them snacks, reasoning that they'd deserved something nice after studying and debating so much on so many topics. Your husband eagerly agreed and impatiently waited for your food through busying himself by unearthing blueprints and all sorts of different research papers so there would be grounds for his and ford's endless theorizing.

And thus, as you left, Stanford was left with his own thoughts. He made note of the fact that those very same thoughts were entirely consumed by you: how you dressed, how you looked, how soft your hair was, how lovely your voice sounded; all things that brought him much joy to think about, but equal parts of shame. He didn't necessarily want to have any such invasive thoughts about his professor's wife, yet there he is, with his thoughts growing more wretched by the minute. It's almost like his brain was against him: guiding thoughts that had him blushing at the very visage into his mind's eye. He wanted your hands on his back again- he wanted you to drag your nails across it-- he wanted to feel your lips on his, he wanted to feel your breath grow shaky against him--

"Here it is!! Sorry for the wait"

Papers getting dropped on the table and a thankful sigh were the next things he heard. His professor turned to him, instructing him to sit at the table, since "if you don't come quick, there won't be any left for you!"

Your food was great, simply regarded as the usual to your husband, but seen as the world's 8th wonder by Stanford. When asked if he was enjoying the food, he quickly assured you that he was absolutely enjoying it, making sure to remark that it is "the best thing he's had since he entered college", which was not at all a lie, considering he was surviving off of microwaved cup noodles and the occasional granola bar- but even he knew that was too pathetic for him to mention at all.

Your husband and Stanford made quick work of the snacks and promptly got back to... spewing big pompous words and numbers at eachother... at least it seems they were having fun, considering they'd laugh toguether on occasion. That must be a good sign? You weren't entirely sure what was happening with those 2, and you took to not interrupting them in lest you break their chain of thought.

The afternoon went by in the blink of an eye to them. Discussions on various theories followed by reading research papers followed by sketching on blueprints followed by more reading research papers. It was their passion, it seems. However, ford was greatly saddened that it was already so late- he knew full well that if he stayed any longer he'd end up spending the night on your couch, so both him and his professor agreed that it was very much time for him to go back to campus snd consequently to the dorms.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen before he got to say goodbye to you. Even if he was embarrassed to look you in the eye after a full day of... various thoughts about you, he couldn't seem to get enough of your presence. Making his way towards the front door, you were the only one who accompanied him, since your husband was quite busy organizing the mess him and his pupil had created throughout the day.

As you stood at the doorway, you saw yourself growing quite sorrowful that he'd be leaving already, he was quite interesting to you. However, nothing could have prepared neither you nor him for what he did next. He turned around to face you once more, seemingly debating something in his mind for an instant. But, just as quickly as his uncertainty was noticed, it vanished, being replaced by a conviction and fervor he didn't expect from himself -his self control seemed to disappear when he was with you- .Thus, he gently took a hold of your hand and brought it up to his height, kissing the back of it lightly. You could feel your heart skip a beat; you hadn't experienced any such romantic gestures in... god knows how long. As he pulled back, you spoke.

"I-it was... lovely meeting you Stanford." You squeezed his hand as you took a step forward. As soon as he returned your sentiment, he was gone. Though, in the look you both shared during those brief moments, you both knew this wasn't going to be the last time he'd be in this house.

You'd both make sure of it.

Stanford's professor after ford practically begged to go back to his house again: "did you really like her cooking that much?"

Stanford, sweating profusely: "yeah.. her.. . Cooking......"

[lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber]

hii i am so happy you’re back! can you write something about carmy and reader being in a situationship/relationship but they’re co-workers and they are struggling to keep the tension between them a secret?

i am so so sorry this is so late but here it is!!

Tension

pairing -> carmen berzatto x y/n

trope -> tension. a good lot of tension. maybe some bad writing, i'm so rusty

word count -> 945 (again, im so so sorry for taking a whole week to write this)

summary -> every day it gets harder to hide that you and Carmen were a little more than friends...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They say that if you can smell burning fish in the house when you aren’t cooking, there is probably an electrical fire somewhere in your house. Then of course, call emergency electrical services and make sure your house is safe. 

There’s no sure fire way of telling if two people are messing around. The staff knows something is up. It’s obvious, but also there’s just a fog around it. Like if they just had one more clue, they could say hands down that you and Carmy were messing around. The way he looks at you. The way you give him small smiles. They could mean everything or they could mean absolutely nothing. You were a usually sweet and nice person, smiling at everyone. Sydney would trade theories with Tina and Marcus over if you and Carmen were together. Because on one hand, Carmen shouldn’t be in a relationship with literally anyone. Sydney couldn’t believe that a person as sane as you would date Carmen Berzatto aka the king of micromanaging. She couldn’t not see it happening but it was a little strange to see Carmen- allegedly- in love. Maybe love would change him. If you two were even together. 

It was getting more and more obvious by the day. Carmen always went to the bakery section first. Totally just to check up on if anything had broken and if everything was running smoothly. Sydney would purposely walk by to see if you two had made some kind of slip up. But nada for weeks. That was, until Monday.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Monday was not a good day for anyone. You were always pissed when Monday finally came, it meant that work started back up again. Swell. The only good part was seeing your Carmy. To be fair, you saw him every day. He looked better with bedhead and a smile, that’s for sure. But all you had to do was take a deep breath and not let anyone know that you spent basically every night in Carmy’s arms. Easy enough. Just continue doing the thing you were doing. Small smile. Take your break at different times. Don’t normally talk. Don’t fuck up.

The day started off fine. Carmy was a little more scatterbrained than usual but that was nothing new. You noticed that you were out of baking soda. Well, all you had to do was just get more. You pulled on your coat, told Marcus where you were going and walked out the front. 

“Carmy, I’m going to the store to get more baking soda.” “Uh- Alright, babe. 

You whipped around, wide eyed, hopefully no one had heard him. He realized what he had said and ran a hand through his hair. Dear god hoping no one had noticed. But Sydney had. She had started noticing it awhile ago. It was a pattern.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The small looks. The strange niceness that Carmen sometimes showed you and only you. If you fucked up, there were the rare moments where Carmen wouldn’t immediately get mad. They snowballed. Each moment giving more reason for the others to suspect you. Every day it just got harder and harder. Wanting to be able to be even a little sweet to each other. You two talked about being able to say that you were together- in a way. You always get a little sad every time you can't be there for him. Every day it seemed that you were being more and more obvious, like someone knew. Like you wouldn’t have to hide soon enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Closing time. Some would call it the best part of the day. You would call it the most dangerous. Everyone wanted out and was scrambling to get finished. This was the part of the day that tested both you and Carmen. You both knew that you couldn’t show it here but it was pent up. Hungry. You both wanted each other but you literally just couldn’t show it here. You knew that you would end up in his apartment. You knew it would happen but all you needed to do was pack up, look like you were walking home, then make a b-line for Carmen’s apartment. 

You sighed, making sure everything was ready for tomorrow. Once you have made completely sure, you grab your bag and your coat. He was in his office, rifling through papers. Sydney was grabbing her stuff too, so you two couldn’t be as open as you wanted. It hurt. It was like a dull pain. Like all you wanted to do was feel but you couldn't.

“Hey…I’m packing up. I’ll see you later, I guess…” You both knew what that would mean. It would mean sloppy, tired, exhausted kisses and then fall asleep in each other's arms. Making up for lost time. Trying just to find some semblance of peace even if all you’re doing is running from it. A situationship can only be so fulfilling. Just coming to his apartment to eat dinner and roll around in the sheets. You wouldn’t be able to keep your secret forever.

“Yeah- Yeah, alright…See you…”

His voice was soft. It was only soft with you though, he gave you a tired smile. You knew that you would be wrapped in his arms later but as much as you wanted to be sweet and kind and caring but you knew that that would expose the two of you. You gave him a small smile as you walked out the back. 

It wouldn’t happen today. It probably wouldn’t happen in a week. But as you left, and then subsequently as Carmen left, Sydney stayed behind.

She had her suspicions. Maybe you two weren’t so good at hiding it.

taglist:

@carmenberzattosgf @answer2jeff @atrwriting @sexyyounglatinoboy @harrysmatcha @persie123 @leminjelly @foreverxrain @princessloveweird @savage-aespa @morgthemagpie @msphoenixfromdaflames @cillianbabe @softmullet @0-n-1-x @automaticllamacycle @02273

[ephemerensis]

Cologne // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

hay guys! where Tim Drake and Red Robin (ur bodyguard for the time being) smell suspiciously the same— it’s like you can’t even tell the difference! no angst, this took me so long oh my goodness i’m gonna stick to writing what i know. stay tuned for hurt/angst i have a lot of grievances to spit out! not proofread.

Part 2

—

Gotham was the last place you’d expected to be sent off to, but it’s where you found yourself now. Despite being disgustingly crime ridden, it was the center of trade, commerce, business, and more importantly— information. Which is precisely what you’d been sent to offer.

Your family’s company recently made a ground breaking discovery in pharmaceuticals, creating a drug that could limit the spread of cancer cells without traditional side effects; YB-V they called it. However, the by-product of production was much more severe, resulting in a chemical compound capable of mutating all the cells in a person completely to become something other as if they belonged to a different entity. Given the right motivations and means, the cells could be manipulated by a third party, turning them into fully conscious puppets of some sort.

With data leaks and security concerns, and the serious nature of the consequences if your drug had fallen into the wrong hands, you were sent to deliver the research and development to the production team personally; placed in charge of overseeing production until launch.

Which all sounded good in theory, but as you found yourself twiddling your thumbs in a blacked out office space, getting briefed on the gravity of the situation by a police task force with some vigilante character hanging around behind you, you began to question what it was all worth.

“So let me get this straight, an email between Wayne Corp and ourselves was leaked and now a couple big shot villains want to steal it? What kind of bad guy reads emails?”

A burly officer with a thick white mustache and a pair of square set glasses cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s correct.”

“Some tech team,” you scoffed. “I’m the only one that can access any of the files, it’s all biometrically locked. While this certainly puts a damper on my day, we should be able to proceed normally.”

“They have your identity too,” the figure in the back voiced. Red Robin, you’d been informed, one of Gotham’s crime fighters in spandex (allegedly.) Up until now he hadn’t spoken a word, loitering while the police explained everything to you.

“Which is why we brought you here,” the commissioner pipped, reaching for his coffee mug as he spoke. “Red Robin has agreed to watch over your activities for the duration of your time in Gotham. For your safety, and ours.”

Have this guy tail you? As if. You were occupied enough without having a stranger watch your every move. A vigilante at that, it’s not like you could look at his resume and review his history.

“While that is a gracious offer, I have my own bodyguards. They’re well trained and—“

“Not for Gotham, you don’t.” Red Robin stepped out from the corner he’d situated himself in, arms crossed and a frown plastered on his face. “And unless you want to stay in a bunker for three months, I’m your best bet.”

Silence fell as you stared at the masked man, contemplating your options. The underground bunker was out of the question. On top of running production, you had a company to run and a reputation to upkeep; meetings, galas, charity events to attend. And as much as you hated to admit it, they had to be right. Gotham knows Gotham, and with the crises you’d witnessed on screen it was clear their criminals were on a polarly different level.

Pressing your hands to the table, you stood up and turned around, “I see. And you being around won’t make me more of a target?”

“Not even you would know I’m there.”

Closing the distance between the two of you in a few paces, you stuck your hand out to him, “In that case, I look forward to working with you Red Robin.”

Standing near him, the faint smell of lavender was imminent and something deeper lingered under it, an amber of some sort. It was pleasant; Red Robin had good taste in cologne. And that is all you needed to trust him.

It took a second for him to shake your outstretched hand. In your palm, his grip was firm, rough gloves pressing into your satin skin. Secure, you’d decided, secure and reliable.

And just as he’d promised, you hardly noticed him. On the contrary, you were also never attacked; not in the days following the abrupt meeting, nor the week after that, nor the month after that. There was the occasional mention of trouble, or something that went bump in the night— but whether it concerned you or not it didn’t matter. Nothing ever happened.

When he was tucked away it felt like he was really gone, not even the eerie feeling that followed being watched lingered. The only thing that drew you back into the reality was when you’d catch the scent of lavender lingering or in the few cases where he’d appear before you. In his absence you felt almost lonely, despite your work occupying it all. So you soon found yourself leaving notes.

“Bought coffee for the office.”

And he began to write back.

“Just black next time, thanks.”

…

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Cornflower blue.”

“That’s a dumb name. Your costume is red, I think you got out branded by Nightwing.”

“In my defense, I didn’t design it.”

…

He didn’t say much in them, nothing that you could glean in depth anyway. But you found yourself oddly pleased with his nothing. It’s not like you cared so desperately for his identity, that was his to keep of course. You did care for his presence. Something about it was magnetizing, and because he hardly appeared before you, these were the tidbits you found yourself drawn to.

Not that you’d kept them, he would see. Despite knowing the situation you were in, it still felt like a strange game— where he knew every detail about you, and you knew nothing of him. Your feelings, at the least, these you could keep on your own.

“Do you need lab access? I know you follow me in, but if there’s an emergency or something…” Production and distribution for YB-V was run by Wayne Corp and like all things related to your project it was kept secure in an underground bunker while you worked to transfer the information your company developed.

While the scientists and developers were mainly in charge of carrying out the project, none of it could move forward without you. The security system had been meticulously set up so that you, and only you, could access the files with the research and instructions. And beyond even your capabilities, every stage written into the plan had to be completed before the next could be unlocked. So you had to be there, supervise and guide them during the entirety of the process.

Archaic, you’d decided. But necessary according to the rest of the world.

Red Robin accompanied you on these trips. Being underground and all, it was one of the few moments he went with you rather than watching from afar.

“No, I’ll find a way in if I need a way in.”

You looked back at him questioningly. You didn’t doubt his capabilities of course, but he said it with such ease, “Is it that easy to break into? I should increase security.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s secure. I’m the issue.”

You turned back around shaking your head with a snort. He was growing on you, sass and all. Stopping by a display of notes and charts, you looked them over to ensure they aligned with protocol.

“I have to attend a gala next week, by the way.”

He hummed in response, a couple steps behind you like he usually was when you visited the lab.

“It’s at Wayne Manor… and I can get you an invite. Security is stricter than it is here, I’ve been told. It’d be troublesome to sneak around.” Ruffling through the papers, you extracted the one you needed, holding it up to your face.

“And I don’t have a date,” you added.

“…are you asking me out?” You could hear a hint of a smile in his voice, making your face burn red at the accusation.

You set the paper down, abruptly whipping around with the most serious expression you could muster, “Strictly for my safety! I don’t know how credible everyone attending is and—“

The smile on his face shut you up. Embarrassed and slightly dejected you looked around the room for something else to lock eyes on, clearing your throat.

“I would’ve loved to, but I won’t be there. Something came up that I need to take care of. But like you said, security is strict, you’ll be safe,” he interjected before you could say anymore. Honestly you couldn’t even be mad, he let you down so sincerely you had to believe it. The small smile plastered on his face and the gentle tone he used in opposition to his usual curt one melted you down far more than you would’ve liked it to.

“Right.” It took you a second to cough anything out, like you were thirteen and starstruck again by any character that tossed you a bone, “so much for you or the bunker, I could’ve hired the Waynes’ security.”

But you were disappointed, and his answer did surprise you. Busy? He hadn’t left your side your entire stay as far as you were aware, granted you couldn’t see him 95% of the time, but in principle.

He must’ve picked up on your downtrodden state because he leaned in teasingly, that familiar lavender scent washing over you, “You have your own bodyguards though, right? They’re well trained.”

You wondered what color his eyes were behind the mask, a warm brown or a melancholy blue. Either way you’d decided you were done for, his were the type of eyes you could drown in; “Not for Gotham, I don’t.”

The night of the gala you didn’t expect much. You were supposed to represent your company of course, as their Gotham socialite, and you were to meet with your business partner. Up until now everything had been transactional, taken care of on invisible ends. Which was fine, but to maintain business relations you had to show up to these things.

And so it was about as dry as you’d thought it to be. Most of everyone was twice your age, many were so stuck in their desire for affluence it radiated off of them like maggots in a burn pile. Supposedly it was a charity gala, in reality it was an egoistic echo chamber and you were in no position to defy it.

Flitting around you sipped your champagne and made conversation and promises that didn’t matter until a hand graced your shoulder with the lightest touch, it felt almost invisible. Turning around you saw a boy with raven hair and the tamest of blue eyes. And he looked to be around your age, a moment of respite at last.

“Hi,” he breathed the word into a smile that was dazzlingly honest and strikingly warm in juxtaposition with the mood of the room.

“Hi,” you shook the hand he offered to you. His hands were rougher than you’d imagine an aristocrat’s to be, littered with callouses you attributed with a dedication to some sport, “I’m Y/N, I don’t think we’ve met before?”

“Sort of, I’m Tim.” In your correspondence with Wayne Corp, Tim had been your main contact; at least for big ticket decisions. In other words, he was your collaborator and your business’ partner. In your head you recalled all the times you poked fun at the archaic way he wrote his emails, like he was 52 and balding— in reality he was just the opposite.

“Oh! It’s nice to finally meet you! Thank you for working with us, we couldn’t have progressed this far without Wayne Corp.”

“On the contrary, thank you for trusting us. This project’s been a huge safety concern for you I’ve heard.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all! I have one of the best vigilantes in the city.” But this, he should’ve already known. Red Robin had to be cleared for access to certain things, and you’d corresponded as much through your emails. “I must say though, I was disappointed it wasn’t Nightwing at first, he used to be my favorite.”

Tim blinked at you for a spell and you couldn’t read his expression. Pleasant and cordial with some twinge of underlying distaste was the best way to describe it, something in the way his eyes glinted with a malice behind his smile. “Has that changed?”

He must love Red Robin.

“I suppose,” growing on you was an understatement. It was a strange ordeal because he wasn’t real. No name or title you could address, but everything you learned about Red Robin made you want to know more about Red Robin. He was magnetizing. “Have you met them? Is it a normal Gotham thing?”

“No,”his response came swiftly, “they’re usually in other parts of the city and I’m never out at night. Married to the office.”

“I see.” That would explain the emails.

“Do you… want to dance?” He extended his hand to you graciously, but with a gentle hesitance that made him seem softer than he was. In a way you felt like you were betraying your vigilante delusionship, but he hadn’t agreed to go with you and Tim was charming enough. Besides, business relations.

“Of course.” Placing your flute of champagne on a nearby table, you took his arm as he led you to the floor. He smiled in a demure sort of way that made your heart flutter like the excitement you’d felt interacting with Red Robin. Maybe you just liked the attention that much, that must be the correlation between the two.

“Do you know how to waltz?” Typically galas didn’t have much dancing at all, let alone organized ballroom dancing, but leave it to the Waynes to find a way to stun the crowd with their class and extravagance.

“Sort of, I’ve taken rudimentary classes.” Like when you were five.

“Perfect,” he grinned. He placed his hand faintly on the small of your waist while the other found purchase in your opposing palm, “I’ll lead. Just follow along, you’ll be fine.”

Miraculously you were fine. You started out with your eyes glued to the floor, following after him and avoiding his toes. But once you’d gotten into a rhythm, it all felt like floating.

“You haven’t stepped on my toes once,” he joked. Up close and under the mesmerizing ballroom light he looked angelic, the way the light caught in his lashes and the reflected off the blue of his eyes—like little golden flecks glimmering under supple flowing rivers.

“I’ve been trying not to!” you laughed.

“You look beautiful,” as if his eyes could get any more mesmerizing, they softened somehow with his words, “outfit and all.”

“Thank you,” at this you averted your gaze, and prayed the lighting didn’t highlight the flush of your cheeks. Out of being flustered or embarrassment, you didn’t know. On the one hand, a rich, beautiful, respectful man was complimenting you. On the other, you were wearing cornflower blue because it was someone else’s favorite color. Like you were twelve again and going to some middle school dance where you wanted to impress your hallway crush.

“Your Getty pictures don’t do you justice,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t seen one bad photo, but you always look so serious and intimidating.”

It never occurred to you he’d Googled you before, it made sense now how he was able to single you out in the crowd. Maybe the thought was so foreign because you’d never paid him any mind, but now you were thinking you should’ve. At the very least because it’s polite and helpful to know the bare minimum, but if you were honest with yourself it’s because he struck a curiosity in you that needed to be sated—too breathtaking to be real and all you’d known was his face and arresting demeanor.

“Because I am serious and intimidating, I’m very good at my job you know. You’re not the only one married to an office,” you boasted. In reality you hated work, but worse still was posing for pictures. Especially at crowded social functions your parents ushered you to where you didn’t know a soul, you simply didn’t know what to do with yourself in front of a camera—that was your excuse anyway.

“That explains the dancing,” he quipped with a sideward smile.

Your eyes widened slightly in shock as your mouth fell open to scoff. “Hey! I thought I was doing pretty good!”

He burst into a contagious laughter that hypnotically made you follow suit. But you wouldn’t settle for that after all your efforts to keep up. With a look to the wayside, you pretended to lose touch of the tandem between your steps and lurch forward, consequently stepping on his polished brown loafers. And then it was his turn to be shocked.

“Woah! So much for trying,”Tim teased. Not that he lost his footing, he was as stable as ever. In his eyes you swore there was a glint of mockery, as if he knew and anticipated it.

“Oh did I hurt you,” you feigned concern before slipping into the most innocent smile you could muster. “I’m a terrible dancer, I can’t help it.”

“Aren’t you petty?”

“You have no idea.”

“Petty and pretty, how dangerous.”

Before you could fire some witty retort you noticed your steps slowing to a halt with the swoon of the music. He’d brought his hand above you to spin you once, slowly. The other on your waist moved to your lower back to support you as he pulled you into a dip and all you could do was follow. Something about the atmosphere had your heart palpitating. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, like you were an art piece on display, overhead light illuminating behind him as he stared down at you like an angel emerging from the heavens.

Sundering you to the earth, you couldn’t fixate your eyes on anything else, and though it was only for a moment it felt like eternity. You were close enough now for the scent of his cologne to waft over you faintly amongst the throng of strongly powdered people in the room. Lavender. A familiar lavender with all the base notes that’d been lingering around you for the past few weeks. Your look of awe faded to confusion.

Red Robin’s.

“Is that—“

But he wasn’t looking at you. Instead you followed his gaze down to your chest, eyes widening as you saw the little red laser mark hovering over your heart. Before you could react, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs as Tim shoved you away. The sound of the gun firing pierced cleanly through the noise of the glitz and glamour, and something burned across the skin of the side of your arm.

You couldn’t tell if it was broken glass that cut you or something else, you couldn’t feel much of anything with the adrenaline flooding your body. Scared and discombobulated, you scrambled backwards as panic set into the crowd.

In the midst of the onset of gunshots and people scattering towards exits, Tim had rushed over to you. Kneeling beside you, he gave you a quick look over and gently pulled you up by your uninjured arm. As soon as you were up he rushedly dragged you away from it all, winding through the hallways of the manor wordlessly. Though it was probably for the better, because you didn’t have an ounce of air left in your lungs trying to keep up with his pace or a thought in your head after what you’d just witnessed.

The further you trudged along, the heavier your limbs felt and the harder it was to pry your eyes open after blinking. Which was strange, you hadn’t lost so much blood, but it must’ve been the confusion of it all or something you ate. A couple halls and turns later you arrived at a room. He ushered you inside, seating you on the bed before rummaging through the drawers.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt badly?” from the drawer he procured a bandage. He sat himself next to you, promptly wrapping the cloth tightly around your arm.

“No, it’s not bad,” truthfully it felt numb, which you couldn’t decide was a good or bad thing. You couldn’t think much of anything, focused on keeping your eyes from fluttering shut.

“I should’ve known they’d do something,” he’d muttered. As he finished, pushing himself off the bed, your head suddenly felt too heavy to hold up and your eyes too tired to function.

“Hey… are you okay? You don’t look so good.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, feeling nothing abnormal and deepening his concern. But you couldn’t process what he was saying. With a lilt, you fell to your side, feeling the injunctive relief of not having to hold yourself upright.

He undid your bandages to look at the wound again before scowling as it dawned on him, “Tranquilizers.”

After rewrapping your arm, he hurriedly stalked towards the door, “You’ll be safe here, I’ll send someone.”

With whatever consciousness you had left you managed to slur a sentence, “Where are you going?”

“To find my brother.”

If he said anything after you didn’t hear it, because the moment your eyes fluttered shut, they stayed shut.

You didn’t know how long you were out. Not terribly so. When you’d awoken, it was still dark out. Tim must’ve flicked the light off when he’d left too, the only light that flooded in was from the streetlamp out the window. The drugs hadn’t cleared your system yet if the pounding in your head and brain fog you were experiencing was any indicator. And they didn’t even hit you directly, who knows where you’d be if they did.

In the streets you could hear the panic of people and the wail of police sirens, which would’ve settled your stomach if not for the fact that it clearly wasn’t over and the police weren’t entering.

You jerked your head towards the door as a loud thud sounded just outside of it. Looking around the room for a place to hide, there was none. And if there was one, you couldn’t see it with the lights out. Some commotion followed before what sounded like a body hit the floor.

Not knowing what else to do, you wrapped yourself in the bedding, pulling it to the floor behind the bed and huddling there. At the very least, no one knew you were in there but Tim, and surely he’d locked the door.

Nope.

The sound of the knob turning made your blood run cold. You drew the blankets tightly around yourself, hoping you’d amalgamate into the cloths if you’d clutched them tightly enough.

With the bed obscuring your view, you couldn’t see the perpetrator and you didn’t want to. You screwed your eyes shut as footsteps creaked on the wood pacing towards you. Against your will, you hands couldn’t cease trembling and you wondered if the other person in the room could hear your heart beating out of your chest.

This was it. If someone wanted to swoop in, now would be great.

The footsteps halted on the opposite side of the bed. You considered jumping out at them, throwing the blanket and bolting for it, but your limbs felt like they were filled with lead. And in any case, if they were armed you were done for anyway. So you held your breath and willed them away instead.

To your horror they’d started again in your direction. Silence. And then a hand touched the blanket and you couldn’t help it, you shrieked and covered your head with your arms.

But instead of force or a bludgeoning, they’d knelt in front of you, gently grabbing your arms as you thrashed. A familiar voice called your name out a couple times before you recognized it and opened your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me! You’re okay,” in the dark you couldn’t really see his face but it was Tim’s voice that called to you. Delirious and reeling, the relief flooded your body so intensely, the tears didn’t even have time to well before they were streaming down your cheeks.

Throwing your arms around him, you sobbed for all you were worth, “I was so scared, why’d you just leave me!”

You felt him stiffen beneath you at the sudden intrusion before softening and patting the back of your head with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

And it felt so safe there, in his arms, secure but soft all at once. The familiar lavender mixed with the champagney smell from the gala soothed you in a way you’d never thought you’d needed.

“I thought they were gonna get me,” you choked out between sobs. This was in no way attractive, “and then I’d get kidnapped, and everyone would turn into puppets!”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Not mocking or laughing at you like your more awake self would’ve expected, he was mellow about the whole thing. Sorry and really sorry for it—and it wasn’t even his fault.

When you calmed down enough to sound coherent, he pulled back to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Let me see that,” he nodded towards your bandaged arm. You stretched it out for him and he undid the gauze, “This doesn’t look too bad. Shouldn’t scar.”

Procuring new dressings, he took his time with it this time, applying a salve before wrapping it around you again.

“Tim?” you said his name just to say his name, because you liked the way it felt to say and you wanted to hear him speak. Instead he paused before resuming his work, “I’m Red Robin.”

“Oh.” That’s embarrassing. You were so certain of it too, but he did say he would send someone and he was probably with his family or waiting outside for things to settle. So instead you got the infinitely intangible Red Robin, “I thought you were busy.”

“Plans changed.” He was never this curt with you, not after knowing you anyway. He had to maintain secrecy, you knew this, but he’d find ways to say more anyway.

You flinched as he constricted your arm with the bandage, “You’re pulling it a little tight.”

This made him pause again, letting go of the wrap altogether this time as the circulation breathed back into your marrow.

Exhaling, he ran a hand through his raven hair, “I’m sorry.”

You blinked at him, still fighting to keep your eyelids open but worried nonetheless. This was unlike him, “Red?”

“Sorry, I’m just on edge. I should’ve known, I could’ve prevented this,” shaking his head, it was if he made up his mind, “Everything is transferred now, the project can wrap up without you. We’ll get you on the next flight back tomorrow.”

Somewhere in you an inkling of anger stirred, as if you were an object that could be sent as needed. But the strain in his voice was evident, how could hold a grudge against that? “I don’t want to leave yet.”

“You’re going.”

You huffed, “I’m not. And you don’t have to watch me anymore if it’s too much, I never expected that from you! You’re here now, you didn’t have to be, but you are— that’s more than my useless bodyguards or Wayne security have done and they’re paid for it. You put up with me and nothing has happened to me. I’m sorry for being so vulnerable, that’s my fault. Don’t you dare berate yourself, you haven’t done one wrong thing!”

He said nothing, just stared at you with something like curiosity. Under the pale moonlight and with his face obstructed you could only speculate.

You stuck out your injured arm to him again, urging him to take it, “Hurry and finish, I’m still sleepy.”

Wordlessly he finished binding your arm. As soon as he was done you fell on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Tim—“

“I’m not Tim,” he reiterated. There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place; annoyance?

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling sleep creep up on you again, “you smell the same... I think I like him.” Surely it’s fine to confess this much, or that’s what you told yourself as you started to drift off, words slurring and thoughts blurring, “you should meet him, he’s a big fan.”

—

i have a final in 5 hours please with me luck (it’s 2am)

[preservationofnormalcy]

[My name is Meghan Hendricks, and I’m about to do something stupid.]

[I’ve scheduled my work to be sent to my superior in the federal government’s oversight committee unless I stop it in one week. A dead woman’s hand. It’ll be somewhat fruitless - I’ve begun to suspect that my work will be restricted, censored, and buried like most other things the Office does.

A lot of the people I talk to are exculpatory of the Office, even if they say they have questions or concerns. I think most of them mean it. I don’t think it’s brainwashing. I think in such a tighly knit community as the supernatural world people feel a more genuine sense of belonging than they might otherwise. A werewolf helping werewolves is going to understandably try and defend the hand that deals the help, even if they’ve bit it in the past. But one thing I’ve learned as I’ve been peeling up rocks and seeing what scurries away is that something isn’t right. Something is hiding in plain sight.

Most people don’t know about it. They can feel the shape of it, the outline the absence of something makes. Some people, however, do know. At least a little. I’ve seen them avoid questions, look away, end interviews. I can see it in their eyes. They know enough to not want to know more.

All of that brings me here, to the backwoods of upstate New York. I’m dressed in all black, wearing a mask and gloves. My clothing smells of peppermint, and in my bag is a bottle of peppermint oil. It stung my eyes and, before I got the dilution right, burned my skin. I look in my car’s rear view mirror and it hits me that I look ridiculous. I don’t know for sure why the factory foreman Barry warned me about the peppermint, but I had a theory. 

For the last few minutes I’d seen the shape rising into the air, the metal tower with red lights up its length. That was where I needed to be. The highway was thankfully bare, at this time of night. As was the turn-off onto an unmarked gravel road, only distinguishable by the Office’s symbol on a plastic sign, held up on a thin metal spike. I’d learned by now that the broader public couldn’t see the Office logos and signage until they’d been exposed to the extranormal, something the Office calls “memetic masking.” I was, in their terminology, memetically inoculated, and it was that fact that ironically helped me find the path. The gravel road went into the forest, but I pulled over past the road’s entry, into the small area of grass down past the turnoff. I pulled a tarp from my car and threw it over the vehicle, once again feeling ludicrous…and frankly, a little scared. 

The hike was about twenty minutes, mostly uphill on a gentle incline, the numbers station being built on a hill. I’d done worse, but not in a while. I could see pretty well in the light of the full moon, a fact that made me a little more nervous. I walked along the edge of the gravel road, in the dark - hiking onto a government facility, my nerves went wild. Every shift of leaves meant an agent clad in camo, every whip of wind causing a noise that made me think of the things I’d seen since I began this assignment. Not this assignment, I had to remind myself. This wasn’t part of it. Not really.

I saw the fence in the distance first - an eight foot chain link fence that stretched as far as I could see in either direction. Past the fence, I could see dark buildings, giant spools of wire, and above it all the metal tower of the station. I hadn’t exactly planned for this, even though I knew it was more than likely. The handheld cutters in my back pocket were ready, but something in me didn’t want to cut the links, even if I fully intended to pass the fence. Getting in some other way could be a blunder, accidental. Cutting the chain meant intent.]

C] 1 15 12 24 2 12 12 21 16 26 1 15 12 22 21 19 6 26 2 25 3 16 3 22 25

[The voice almost made me vomit. I spun and saw a man. Disheveled, haggard, an unkempt beard and long hair. Older, in his 50’s, but being dirty and ragged made him look even older. He didn’t even look at me, mumbling numbers so fast I could only understand them later once I slowed them down in my recording. After his string of digits he stood there, looking at the fence, then back to me. In the moon’s light I saw his dirty, torn jumpsuit, the logo for the Office on the man’s arm and chest, along with an embroidered nametag - Cecil.]

M] Wh- who are you? What are you doing here? 

C] 4 12 25 16 23 23 12 11 22 2 1 1 15 12 23 8 25 1 22 13 2 26 1 15 8 1 18 21 22 4 26 16 1 26 9 25 22 18 12 21

[His stare was distant, vacant. It was a shock when his hand moved suddenly, pointing upward to the moon. It took me a second to realize what he was saying, and when I did, it confirmed my suspicions.]

M] Here? Now? 

C] 1 15 12 6 19 19 23 2 21 16 26 15 15 16 20 13 22 25 19 16 3 16 21 14 1 15 25 22 2 14 15 16 1

[With that, he turned and walked away. He looked back once, pausing as if making sure I was following - which, despite my better judgment, I did. I attempted to ask him some more questions, trying to understand who he was or why he was here, but he didn’t respond. Not even with his numbers. 

After a moment of walking by the fence, we walked away from it, down the hill. A steep path, rocky and unstable, that he navigated with ease. It was only after climbing down past a tree and a rocky face that I noticed “Cecil” backtracking up a few steps. A huge drainage pipe jutted out from the hillside, hidden from above by rocks and plants. A piece of wood in the pipe was the only flimsy protection, and without hesitation Cecil pulled it aside and bent over to climb inside. Here I was, in the middle of the woods, about to climb into a dirty tunnel to a strange old man’s bunker. 

I could hear a match catch fire just as I stepped down onto a concrete floor and stood up past the metal pipe. The space was small, a concrete box that ended in a pile of rubble. It must have been the entrance to an underground section of the complex at one point, but now was only a covered shelter. A camp stove, a bed, an orderly pile of refuse. He was living hard out here, but he was living. Cecil put the match into an old oil lantern and held it up to one wall. ]

C] 13 16 21 16 1 12 2 21 16 3 12 25 26 12 13 16 21 16 1 12 1 22 22 19 26 4 12 19 22 22 18 12 11 9 12 6 22 21 11

[All over the concrete wall, pasted or taped, were papers. Mainly old documents from the Office, with the Office logo watermarked on their corners. Many of them featured heavy black redaction bars. Some were torn, upside down. Cut in patterns, circled with heavy marker lines. I’d seen things like this in movies, of course. The stereotypical red string and thumbtacks on corkboard. This was different, however. When I looked over the collage I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a man trying to figure things out. He’d already figured it out, in his own way, and this was some kind of…archive. Memorial. A reminder. I looked at him, and he looked down to the floor. In shame? Sorrow? I couldn’t tell. I scanned the wall again, trying to find some order.  

‘Numbers Station 23 Decommissioned By Order Of Reality Compliance Council.’ ‘Bulletin From Director Walker On Directive 61722.’ ‘Los Angeles–’ the last one was torn off.]

C] 26 15 12 16 26 14 22 21 12 13 22 25 12 3 12 25 26 15 12 11 16 11 21 22 1 11 16 12

M] What is all this? Who ARE you?

C] 1 15 12 23 25 16 21 10 16 23 8 19 16 1 6 4 16 19 19 8 3 12 21 14 12 15 12 25

M] Listen, I – I don’t want numbers. Can you speak?

C] 15 16 26 13 2 1 2 25 12 16 26 2 21 18 21 22 4 8 9 19 12 8 21 11 1 15 2 26 16 21 13 16 21 16 1 12

M] You used to work for the Office…at the numbers station? This numbers station? Is that why you can only –

C] 4 12 18 16 19 19 12 11 25 12 8 19 16 1 6 1 22 26 1 22 23 15 16 20

[I must admit to some frustration. I scan the wall again. None of it made sense. Clearly it did to Cecil, otherwise he wouldn’t have saved all of this. Was the numbers station related to…what happened to my brother? Phrases leap out at me: ‘reality compliance’, ‘the equation’, ‘project dammerung.’ That last one was…all over. There were scraps, shreds with the phrase, but all of it redacted.]

M] What is this? Project Dammerung? 

C] 2 19 1 16 20 8 1 12 4 12 8 23 22 21 13 22 25 1 15 12 2 19 1 16 20 8 1 12 13 12 8 25

M] I don’t…I don’t have time for this. You know why I’m here. Are you going to help me, or not?

[Cecil was silent for once, looking around hesitantly, and finally back to the floor. I give him a moment to respond, and when he remains silent, I take in a breath.]

M] Right. Thank you, Mister…Cecil. I’ll…

[He raises his hand, almost as if he wanted to grab my arm, but was too timid. Raising the lantern to a section of the wall, he gestured to a particular document, from Office Security, or O-Sec. A photo of a serious-looking Asian-American man, Corporal Han. Most of the document was blacked out. Was this a warning? I take in the wall one last time, and drop my bag so I can reach for my camera. A polaroid - no digital trail, no getting the photos developed. With a click I snapped a photo of the wall. 

A noise distracted me. I turned, and Cecil was going through my bag.]

M] Uhh…sir? Cecil? 

[He stopped, looking up at me in almost surprise, as if he’d forgotten I was even there. ]

C] 1 15 12 12 20 16 26 26 8 25 6 26 14 25 8 21 11 11 8 2 14 15 1 12 25 4 16 19 19 1 8 18 12 15 16 26 23 19 8 10 12

[He slid the bag back over to me. I couldn’t figure out what he was looking for, but it didn’t matter now. I needed to get out of there. I put the camera back in, quickly checking that nothing was missing, and backed up towards the pipe.]

M] I know you showed me this for a reason. I’ll figure out how it all adds up, I promise. 

[I enter the pipe again, leaving the old man holding his lantern.]

M] Thank you.

[When I turn away, he looks to his wall one more time. 

I emerge alone into the moonlight, attempting the climb back up the hill. Though I had more scraps of information, I was back at square one, or so I thought. When I reached the top and made it back to the fence, I saw a section of the chain link that had broken, detached from the pole nearby and bent away, covered in a bush that only kept it half hidden. This must be where Cecil still entered the facility. 

The gap in the fence opened up into what seemed to be a storage yard, the place I’d seen past the fence earlier. Piles of tarp-covered metal or wood beams, spools of wire as tall as I was. In the moonlight, I could see poles dotting the yard, cables stretched between them, each one bearing a floodlight. Though everything had been organized and put away securely, I got the feeling no one official had been here in a long time. Leaves covered most surfaces, and cobwebs shone in the dim light along the roof of a nearby shed. 

Again, it struck me that I didn’t know what I was doing. Any information or leads would be in the building past the storage yard, and surely that had better security? Cameras, keycard locks - what was I even doing here? Walking through the yard, almost lost in thought - the tower of the station rose into the night sky in the distance, red lights along its length. They almost looked like eyes along the body of some thin creature, frozen against the stars. 

And then, lights near the station building. I stood still for a moment, uncomprehending until a pair of floodlights on poles a short distance away snapped on, then the next set. The lights were turning on this way, towards me. I had seconds to react, and I did what I’d practiced. In my bag’s side pocket was a plastic bag, containing a gross mess of wet cotton balls, soaked in diluted peppermint oil. Despite my panic, I threw them in all directions, slinging a handful of them in a wide arc, and then hid before the lights were on in my section of the yard. I could hear the electric buzz of the floodlights snapping on just as I ducked behind a row of wire spools, trying to stop my racing heart.

As I debated my options - running, waiting out the lights…maybe they were on a timer? I heard footsteps approaching, crunching on the leaves and pine needles that had accumulated over the unattended years.  When they got closer, I tried to peek through the center of one of the spools I was hiding behind. I saw his uniform first, O-Sec, Office Security. A large man, built like a weightlifter - could see the black shine of a gun in his right hand and my heart leapt into my throat. It was the man from Cecil’s mural, Corporal Han. Was he the officer assigned to this site? I should have known the Office would still have security even on decommissioned stations like this.]

H] I know you’re here. 

[He stopped in a large open area, looking around at the stacks of materials around him, the sheds and tarps - all hiding places.]

H] Normally, I might blame teenagers. Kids getting a kick out of trespassing on Office property. We had one group a few months ago, teenagers. Two humans, a fae and a vampire. They all forgot their vamp friend couldn’t enter without permission. Fun night.

[He paused, letting the silence fall again. I could see him look around, eyes scanning the yard and narrowing. He sniffed the air in a way that seemed…odd.]

H] But judging by the smell…I think you know what you’re doing. You came in with an idea of what was going on. Either you’re a professional, or someone told you…

[He carefully walked, passing behind a small shed and out of my view. I panicked that I lost track of him for a moment, but then there was a sickening sound. Like flesh stripping and bones crunching, and Han’s voice hissing. Then a sound that echoed through the yard, the sound of a hand - no, a claw, grabbing onto the edge of the shed’s corrugated metal wall, digging in and tearing the metal. A shape followed it. A long maw of shining teeth, white fur. A raised canine lip in a familiar but terrifying gesture of anger and aggression, a low rumble as the muzzle raised, and smelled the air. Then, a whine, another growl, sneezing and huffing as the muzzle retreated behind the shed again, out of my view. Another crunch, a growl, and Han staggered past the shed. Haggard, sweating, panting softly, looking incensed.]

H] And if someone told you, I’m going to have a nice, long…conversation with them. 

[He tried to collect himself, catch his breath, run a hand through his hair. He pulled a bandana from a pocket of his uniform, pulling it over his mouth and nose.]

H] You have one minute. One minute until I call backup. You can hide from me, but can you run from a dozen of us? Most of them won’t have my…shortcomings. 

[My heart was pounding. My head was swimming. My fingers were going numb. I couldn’t claim innocence, not when they found out who I was. Could I make a break for it? All of the ways out seemed to be past him, and if he was what he seemed to be, it would be a short chase. It would end up better for me if I surrendered now, but what happens after that? I’d never work again…or worse.]

H] Cecil?

[Han’s voice was confused, concerned. I snapped around to watch through a gap in the spools as Cecil approached, holding a bottle. The bottle of peppermint oil. He must have taken it earlier when he was looking through my bag.]

C] 1 15 12 18 21 16 14 15 1 9 12 8 25 26 1 15 12 14 2 16 19 1 15 12 16 26 25 16 14 15 1

H] Cecil, what did I tell you about–

[Han took in a breath through the cloth, and exhaled, clearly frustrated. His voice was sharp, low, but his face softened, and there was a soft click as he put his gun away.]

H] Why the peppermint, man? You know what that does to my nose. Were you just trying to sneak around without me knowing? 

[Cecil looked at the bottle, then dropped it.]

C] 26 22 20 12 26 1 16 19 19 13 12 12 19 23 15 8 21 1 22 20 23 8 16 21

H] Are you taking your medicine? Probably not. Let’s….let’s get you back home. Not that bunker, home. 

[Cecil seemed to hesitate, but Han put a hand on his upper arm.]

H] You know you can’t be here. Come on. If you come with me to the station I’ll ask someone to bring you dinner when they come pick you up. Okay?

C] 25 12 8 19 16 1 6 4 8 26 13 22 2 21 11 4 8 21 1 16 21 14

[The older man lowered his head, but followed Han as the guard turned and walked back towards the station - but not before looking around, deciding on the row of spools I was hiding behind, and nodding, jerking his head towards the direction of the gap in the fence.

I didn’t need to be told twice. Once Han and Cecil were out of sight, I ran to the exit. I don’t remember much of the next several minutes - running a roundabout way through the forest, coming to the edge, following that until I found my car. I didn’t allow myself time to decompress. I slammed the keys into the ignition and pulled out onto the highway. 

The tears came just as it started to rain, and I drove until it became difficult to continue. I had gained nothing from this. Nothing but a panic attack and a long-lasting nightmare, a recurring dream with claws, spools of wire, and the scent of peppermint. ]

[kiss-me-cill-me]

hello! 🤍 i love your writing, you’re very talented <3 if you are up to the idea, i’d like to request a professor!jonathan crane x student!reader fic 🫶🏻 maybe fluff that leads to smut? thank u ily

Hello, anon! You're my very first request ever; this is so exciting! First of all, thank you for being so nice ❤️ And second, I will certainly give it my best shot! I will say that I struggle to write a fluffy Crane, so this might not be exactly what you pictured but I did try to make him a little less... diabolical than I usually would haha. But either way, I hope you enjoy!

Stimulus Response Theory

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Your professor's lesson on classical conditioning leaves you feeling flustered and frustrated, and Crane knows there's only one way to relieve the tension.

Warnings: Smut, slight exhibitionism, power play dynamics, teasing, tickling, manipulation, semi-public sex, established student/teacher relationship

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

“Stimulus. Response. Theory.”

Dr. Crane’s words echoed through the lecture hall, and dozens of students bent to scribble in their notebooks or tap at their keyboards. You, on the other hand, sat in a chair at the front of the room, harsh light blaring into your eyes from the projector as you faced the rows of crowded seats. Crane stood beside you, and brandished something from his breast pocket.

“A very basic concept,” your professor continued. “Wherein there is a stimulus-”

He held up his hand, and you took note of the fluffy, red feather that was firmly pinched between his fingers.

“That, when presented to the subject-”

Crane brought his hand and the feather close to your face, tickling you just at the tip of your nose. You jumped and pulled away, letting out a small, strangled noise. Dr. Crane smiled, but made sure his expression was neutral before turning back to the rest of the class.

“Results in a response,” Crane finished.

He stepped behind you, and you felt your stomach drop, just a fraction of an inch. Not being able to see him made you nervous, but in a pleasant way that had you crossing your legs more than anything else. You shifted a little in the hard plastic seat.

“Stimulus response can explain many basic behaviors,” Crane lectured. “But it is also the basis for what Ivan Pavlov termed ‘classical conditioning’ - through which, a subject can be trained to elicit a response that is normally associated with one stimulus, in response to a second, unrelated trigger.”

A few of the students in the front rows nodded their heads. Everyone had heard of Pavlov, of course; he and his dogs were covered in every Intro to Psych class at every college everywhere. Gotham University was no different, and so most people in Dr. Crane’s class were familiar with the concept. Still, it never hurt to go over the fundamentals before diving into the deeper lesson. At least, that was the excuse Crane had used when he called you up to the front of the room, asking you to help demonstrate something to the class.

Crane stepped back into your field of view, and you looked obediently up at him. Just the sight of him was enough to make your heart pump a little bit faster. Unbeknownst to the rest of the students in the lecture, you had been sleeping with your professor since almost the beginning of the semester. Things had started out innocently enough; you had visited his office hours a few times, asking for help with a lesson at first. Then, quickly, you fell into the habit of stopping by even if you didn’t have a question. And finally, of course, you’d ended up with your lips pressed desperately against his and your shirt thrown carelessly into the corner of the room. Things had only continued from there.

“Classical conditioning is most effective when the response being elicited is one of natural reflex,” Crane explained to the class. “For Pavlov, this was dogs salivating at the sight and smell of their food. For our subject here-” he motioned to you, “brushing this feather against her skin causes her to reflexively flinch.”

He demonstrated again by trailing the red feather along your wrist, which did indeed cause you to jerk back your arm. A few snickers leaked out of the faceless crowd of students.

“Now, when the naturally evocative stimulus is repeatedly paired with a second stimulus, such as the sound of a bell, Pavlov discovered that the response could be ‘transferred’ to that secondary stimulus. So that, eventually, the sound of the bell alone will elicit the same response - even in the absence of the original stimulus. For example…”

Crane tapped the small metal desk bell sitting on the table beside you. The bell rang, and Crane swiftly raked the feather over your arm, making you jump again.

“Now we’ve paired our two stimuli, and as we continue to solidify the link between them in the mind of the subject-”

He rang the bell and tickled you again, this time brushing the feather over your bare leg. You deeply regretted wearing cut-offs. The touch of the feather made you flinch, but, at the same time, you also started to feel a sharp jolt coursing through your core.

“Eventually, the sound of the bell alone will make her react.”

Crane continued lecturing, telling the class about Pavlov’s dogs and other famous examples of conditioning. At somewhat random intervals, he would stop whatever he was doing to ring the bell and brush the feather over various parts of your body. It seemed like he drifted over every inch of your exposed skin; anywhere he could reach. When he dragged it across your jaw, you nearly had to bite your tongue to stop from letting out a gasp. You were starting to enjoy this a bit too much, and realized to your shock that you were getting wet. You shifted in your seat again, hoping that no one else noticed what was happening to you.

“Using these concepts,” Crane said. “Virtually any stimulus can be paired with any other to create a learned response.”

The little bell rang again, and your whole body tensed, jerking in anticipation of the feather even as arousal pooled between your legs. Your face turned hot as the class laughed. Crane hadn’t even touched you.

“As you can see, if the initial relationship between stimulus and reaction is ingrained deeply enough, it doesn’t take very long at all to transfer to the second stimulus.” Crane smiled. 

He was looking down at you, his expression mild. The red feather was tucked away, safely, in his pocket.

“Thank you,” Dr. Crane said, nodding. “You can go back to your seat.”

You got up, feeling a bit shaky on your legs, and made your way back to your desk in the front row. Almost as soon as you’d taken your seat, Crane rang the bell again, making you flinch even though you were now halfway across the room. Even worse, you felt yourself clench desperately at the sound. A few snickers came from the students around you, who sat close enough to see you jump. You watched as Crane’s eyes flicked briefly to your knees, which you were pressing together in a feeble attempt to try and control your reaction. He quickly composed himself, straightening up a little as he changed slides on the projector.

“Now,” he said, returning to his usual place behind the podium that stood next to the table. “Let’s talk about John Watson and his contributions to the theory.”

You tried to focus on taking notes, but couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted again and again to the silver bell, still perched just on the edge of Crane’s reach.

After class, as the other students went about packing up and heading to their next lecture, you shoved your books in your bag and hurried to catch Dr. Crane before he left the room.

“Professor?” you said, timidly. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Crane glanced briefly at his watch, then looked up at you with a smile. He stood just in front of the table, the torturous silver bell to his left.

“Of course,” he answered. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, waiting for the last few people in the room to hurry on their way. There was a lump in your throat, and you swallowed against it, trying to press it down. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. Crane had seen you in much more intimate positions than this. But, something about him taunting you in front of a lecture hall full of other people had you feeling bothered, and in more ways than one. He had probably meant it to be harmless. Of course he liked you; it only made sense for him to pick you as his “volunteer” for a simple demonstration like this. He couldn’t have known the effect it would have on you, surely.

“I… um,” you tried to start. 

The two of you were alone now, and you should have been able to spit it out. Still, for some reason your tongue was like dry cotton in your mouth. Your eyes drifted again to the bell, sitting within arm’s reach.

“I’m sorry, but… could you not ask me to volunteer for any more… things like that?” you muttered.

Crane seemed to consider your body language. He noticed the way you refused to look him in the eye, instead focusing on the shiny desk bell. You wrung your hands together, and shifted your weight from hip to hip.

“Is something the matter?” Dr. Crane asked.

“It’s just… it makes me a little uncomfortable,” you explained.

Crane stood close beside you, and reached out to touch the side of your wrist. His fingers were gentle; feather-light. But that only served to make things worse, and you felt yourself start to come dangerously close to unraveling again. If Crane noticed the way you subtly clenched your legs together, he didn’t say anything about it. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you instead. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay!” you blurted out. Suddenly, you were worried you had offended him. “It’s my fault, really. I just…”

His fingers took hold of your wrist a bit more tightly, and he brought your hand up to circle his waist. You leaned into the hug, feeling at once both secure and yet unrestrained with desire as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. You caught a whiff of his cologne, slightly spicy with a hint of smoke. The smell only pulled you that much deeper into your internal battle.

“Just what?” Crane prompted.

“I just… don’t want to get turned on like that in class,” you whispered, embarrassment flooding your cheeks. “It’s bad enough having to listen to you; trying to pay attention when all I can think about is-”

Crane hooked a finger under your chin, pulling back from the hug a bit to make you look up at him. There was a sheen in his eyes that made you nervous, but also caused the heat in your stomach to grow.

“Turned on?” Crane echoed. “Why would you be turned on by what I did?”

The smile at the corners of his mouth told you that Crane knew the answer to his own question. Maybe he wasn’t as innocent in this as you had wanted to think.

“I think it’s just, um… you touching me like that…”

“Oh. Like this?”

Crane pulled the devious red feather back out of his breast pocket. Holding it up to the column of your neck, he dragged it slowly down toward your collarbone.

“Ah!” This time, you couldn’t stifle your gasp. Even though the lecture hall was empty, you still felt a rush of shame and embarrassment. You and Crane had had sex a few times in his office, but always with the door safely locked. Here, everything felt too public. Too exposed. Crane let the feather fall, red plume drifting to the floor.

“Professor…” 

“Hm. I wonder…” Crane mused. 

He reached behind himself to press down on the little bell, still sitting innocently on his desk. At the sound of the ring, you faltered and sank a little closer to him. The mumbled cry that fell from your lips was very unconvincingly muffled.

“Mm.” Crane smiled down at you. “You know, that’s the problem with classical conditioning. It’s just so hard to control all the variables. Sometimes the response is transferred to a secondary stimulus that was never intended, like the sight of the lab assistant who brings the dog’s food instead of the sound of the bell. And sometimes…” He rang the bell again, and you clenched, walls fluttering pathetically around nothing.

“Additional implicit reactions are accidentally transferred,” he finished.

You were feeling dizzy. Barely paying any attention to Crane’s impromptu lesson, all you could focus on was the buzzing heat between your legs. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” Crane smirked. He brought his face close to yours, nose trailing over the curve of your jaw as he whispered to you. “I didn’t know a little teasing would turn you into such a mess.” 

His voice was sweet, even as his words dug into you. He kissed along your jaw, and you felt yourself slump against him. Crane supported your weight effortlessly, shifting his body to lean back against the table so that he could feel you press into him fully. You let out a whimper as he kissed you again, this time pressing his lips to the very corner of your mouth.

“Poor thing,” Crane mused. “Here - let me help you.”

His hands moved down to the backs of your thighs, and before you could say a word he had spun you around and lifted you up on top of the desk. He kissed you, fully on the lips this time, and started to trail his soft fingers up and down your legs. His faint touch against your bare skin was driving you crazy. Usually, he was much more direct - taking what he wanted and not wasting time on too much foreplay. This was different, and all of it was making your head spin. When one of his hands reached the hem at the leg of your shorts, you took in a sharp breath of air.

“W-what are you-?”

“What do you think I'm doing?” he teased. “You said you were turned on, darling. I'm just taking care of that little problem for you.”

His fingers pushed under the hem of your shorts, resting on the top of your thigh. The tight fabric forced him to press into your flesh; pads of his fingers making you squirm under the more intense pressure. You hummed, clenching the edge of the desk.

“Look at you - falling apart when I've barely even touched you,” rasped Crane. “At least, not anywhere that usually makes you this desperate.”

His other hand snaked up to roam under your shirt, drifting over the side of your waist. Your breath hitched.

“I do seem to remember you liked it one time when I touched you here,” he laughed, dark voice sinking into your skin.

His mouth was at your neck, and the hum of his words felt like butterflies. Your whole body shivered, and Crane pressed a burning kiss to your collarbone.

“Mmm, I know you asked me not to volunteer you for any more demonstrations,” Crane said. “But I think if doing it makes you this needy, I might not be able to resist.”

He kissed your neck again, this time biting down softly. You let out a moan as you felt his teeth press into your skin.

“Besides, you wouldn't say no to your professor, right? If he asked you to do something?”

“O-of course not,” you replied. Dr. Crane liked when you were obedient.

“Good. Then I need you to do something for me right now.”

Crane pulled back to look into your eyes. His soft smile made your heart flip in your chest. His lips were red from kissing you, and as he opened them to speak, his deep voice sounded like honey.

“Take off your shorts, and bend over.”

The lump that had been in your throat earlier sank down into your stomach, and then even lower. Crane was still looking back at you, teasing eyes clear and bright behind his glasses. 

“I don't know…” you hesitated. “Here?”

Crane reached over to tap the little silver bell, and the ring sent a pulse straight into your core. It was humiliating how fast he had wrapped you around his finger, without even trying to.

“Don't worry; it'll wear off eventually,” Crane said. “Probably. Permanent conditioning takes much more reinforcement. But for now…”

He rang the bell again, and you jumped. The ache was becoming unbearable, and you knew you couldn't hold out for much longer.

“For now, I'm going to have some fun,” Crane taunted. “Now take off your shorts, darling.”

This time, you hurried to do as he said. You shuffled out of the denim shorts, standing up to let them fall to the floor. As he had ordered earlier, you turned away from him, and bent over the table.

Crane's hands drifted over your hips, coming down to grab at your panties.

“I'm sorry; I should have been more clear.”

Suddenly, he yanked them down, quickly exposing you to the chill of the air.

“I wanted these off, too,” he clarified.

Naked from the waist down, you had a brief moment to consider the situation you now found yourself in. You were facing away from the door, fully on display for him and anyone else who might happen to walk into the classroom. Your professor didn't seem to be too bothered by the idea, as his hand grabbed your ass and pushed your legs open just a bit wider, getting a better view. But then again, maybe he wasn't thinking too clearly right now either. He pushed up your shirt, bunching the fabric so that your back was exposed. You considered asking him to stop so that you could move things to his office, where at least you could lock the door for a little privacy. But any objections you had were forgotten at the rough sound of Crane’s pants zipper. 

You felt him press up against your entrance, gently parting your folds as he dragged the head of his hard cock up and down.

“You really are turned on,” Crane marveled. “And all over a little feather…”

As he spoke, you felt the soft plumes of the feather moving gently over your spine. You tensed again. Crane must have picked it back up when your back was turned, and now he was teasing you, slowly, swirling the feather over the swell of your ass.

“S-stop!” you begged, jerking away from the sensation.

“Do you really want me to?” Crane whispered. “Or are you just embarrassed at how wet I'm making you?”

He lazily trailed the feather over your leg, teasing you with the very tip of the soft red bristles. His cock was still on the verge of penetrating you, and you felt him twitch as your body reacted, bucking against the touch of the feather.

“N-no,” you stammered. “Don't stop.”

“That's what I thought,” Crane smirked. 

He started pressing into you, and the feeling was exactly what you needed. All of his teasing had driven you almost to the edge, and as soon as he was inside of you, you felt yourself inching dangerously closer.

“I should tease you like this more often.” Crane was pulling out of you again, only to slam his hips back into you, making your whole body bounce on the table. “If I'd known I could make you this wet, and this desperate, I would have moved the conditioning lesson up a few weeks.”

He laughed, and you felt yourself melting around him. The drag of his cock was so good as he pulled out, and the snap of his hips made you see stars as he pushed in. When Crane brought the puff of the feather up to trail over the back of your arm, you clenched violently, and he moaned.

The sound seemed to echo in the huge, empty room. Crane stayed still for a moment, buried so deep inside of you that it hurt. Then, he started moving again, this time at a faster pace.

“S-slow down,” you begged.

“Why? So you can beg me to stop teasing you again?” Crane taunted. “You can't have it both ways, sweetheart - try to make up your mind.”

You couldn't, of course. With the way he was pounding into you, the only available space in your brain was completely devoted to him - his perfect, veiny cock, and how it was stretching you out, mercilessly. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the desk, clawing at the smooth faux-wood finish.

“Ah!”

You yelped as Crane rang the bell again, not taking even a small break from thrusting, and for what must have been the dozenth time, you clenched around him.

Between the bell and the feather, your head was spinning. Dimly, you felt certain that Crane had abandoned all actual application of Stimulus Response Theory long ago. He was recklessly using whatever tools there were at his disposal; working you up and making sure that all the wires in your brain were thoroughly and completely crossed. You didn't care though. Whatever made you fall apart for him was fine with you.

“M’so close,” you slurred, fingers curling into the desk.

Crane brought the feather down to the curve of your waist, tracing over the spot that drove you crazy. Just like he had recalled earlier, it made you go nearly feral with lust. That was all you needed to tip over the edge that had been taunting you for so long. As you fluttered all around him, Crane followed right after you.

“Oh my god!” you cried, not caring anymore that you were still in the classroom.

Crane's shallow moans and grunts behind you were enough to make you squeeze him again, milking his cock as it emptied into you.

“Oh my god,” you repeated, a little quieter now as the reality of what you had just done sank in.

“I’ll say. That was… intense,” Crane laughed.

He pulled out of you, and you felt his seed drip down the inside of your thigh. You saw him scrambling for something to help you clean up with as you turned around, still needing to lean against the table for support.

“Here.”

He offered you a clump of napkins, scavenged from somewhere deep inside the speaker’s podium. You stuffed them quickly between your legs, trying to wipe up the sticky trails of cum that had already started to snake down. After you'd cleaned up a bit, Dr. Crane leaned forward to kiss you.

His lips still had a hint of the hunger that had passed between you. The feel of them pressed against yours, faint trace of saliva reminding you of the barely-faded passion, made you woozy all over again. He had to hold you to stop you from sinking down onto the table.

“I'd say that was rather stimulating, wouldn't you?” Crane joked.

You felt your face heat up, and he brought his thumb softly to trail across the edge of your jaw. Inside, you could still feel the proof of his lust leaking slowly out of you, and the tickling sensation made you flinch.

“I think… I liked that a little too much,” you admitted.

Your professor smiled down at you, taking in your shy face before bringing his lips close to yours for another, sinful kiss. You felt him smile against you as he whispered.

“I think you did, too.”

Deviously, Crane reached behind you to ring the little silver bell.

This fic now has a Part 2 HERE!

[bitethedevil]

I swear, I’m minutes away from pulling out a giant bulletin board and covering it in pieces of string that connect Rafael to every single event in the game. I feel like a crazy person, but I know that he basically spiderwebbed most of the plot together.



Goddamn it, anon (said lovingly). Now I feel like making my own too. Because I swear, he pops up all over the place, even just for stuff that’s not even plot relevant.

Spot the Devil: Raphael's Involvement in the plot

I’ll start out with letters and books I’ve found that made me go “hmmmm”.

Letter in the Harpy Nest (Maybe)

When you’ve saved Mirkon he mentions something about a nest nearby. If you get to it there is a ring, a journal, and a letter. The letter is what made me go “hmm”. You can read the full thing here. Basically, a guy named Edmund tells wife/girlfriend that she doesn’t have to worry about someone named Maggie Two-Fingers anymore, because he has settled a debt. To pay off said debt, he makes a deal with a cambion and becomes a warlock:

”[…] I took the deal the cambion offered. I'm not going to say I had no choice, because that would be a lie. But I don't regret it. I'm a new man. I feel strong for the first time in my life. Aside from being awoken in the middle of the night by the smell of sulphur (he likes to drop by to 'see how everything is going') I have no complaints […]”

Now, there was a journal too, but I don’t believe the two things were related, even though the journal talks about a devil too. From what I can see, the journal is an easter egg for a campaign called ‘Tomb of Annihilation’. Besides, Edmund is going to Icewind Dale and the campaign takes place in Chult.

It just makes sense to me if its Raphael. We know he hangs out near the grove because we get jumpscared by him before going to this area. It could be our boy and with how much he pops up constantly it wouldn’t surprise me.

A Pleasurable Deal (Maybe)

You can pry this theory from my cold dead hands: Raphael was involved in making this play. It stinks of him.

So, A Pleasurable Deal is an erotic play. The plot isn’t completely written out, but a cambion, who is named Carlisle in the play, is involved.

“Carlisle: Weep not, young man, though free your wife has fled,

And comfort found in comrade's arms and bed.

She licks her lips and cries his name, oh my!

And now you seek to be the apple of her eye?”

Carlisle basically helps a man named Robert get a bigger dick, or…something along those lines. The ”apple of her eye” line is just so Raphael. The whole thing is, to be honest. In the A Pleasurable Deal: The Shocking Truth, it’s revealed that the author sold her soul to make it:

“Interviewer: So .. what was your deal?

Harp: I beg your pardon?

Interviewer: In fact, this was your directorial debut, wasn't it? You couldn't even get published in the tabloid 'Baldur's Bash' before this play came out. Did you honestly trade your soul for an erotic play?

Harp: I- all right, we're done here.”

I mean, come on. This is so him. It’s right up his alley.

Devil Don’t Rhyme

This is a book you can find in the Devil’s Den. Devil Don’t Rhyme is definitely about him:

“[This is a heroic fantasy in verse form, told in the first person by a bold poet who challenges a devil (clearly modelled on Raphael) to an improvised poetry contest to win back the soul of his lover. The following couplet has been circled in red ink.]

'If the line doesn’t scan,' the devil sneers, 'you forfeit your soul and end in tears.' / 'Ha! I’ll keep my time and make my rhyme, with vim and snap and no "down came the claw" crap.'”

Which is just so fucking funny to me. He has been seething and underlining the parts that prove it’s about him.

Alright, onto actual events: Netheril

Raphael was there when Netheril fell. He told us in the Devil’s Den. He has been searching for the Crown of Karsus ever since. He saw the entirety of Karsus’s fuck-up, but didn’t manage to snatch up the Crown of Karsus itself. We do know, however, that he has other Netherese artifacts (the Archivist says so). The Regalia of Karsus were three objects and Raphael has at least one, meaning that if Raph gets the crown, he has a much bigger chance at actually controlling it and using it like it's supposed to be used. This might also be why Mephistopheles hasn't used it: he doesn't have the other artifacts to properly harness its powers.

There are also theories that he has been skulking about and trying to find it after. There’s a really well written theory by @firlionemoontav that connects him to Lenore from the Arcane Tower in the Underdark. He has left no stone unturned.

Orpheus and Vlaakith

I learned about this from an amazing theory post made by @certifieddilfenjoyer

When you go to the Astral Plane, near Orpheus, there is this Githyanki slate that you can find. It depicts Vlaakith making a deal with a Devil, “his face twisted with wry charm”, for the Astral prism. Yeah, Orpheus’ imprisonment? Raphael helped with that. He even taunts Orpheus while he waits for us to approach him and says something about him looking good in chains or something along those lines (kinky old man yaoi).

And honestly, it makes perfect sense as to why he has the hammer then. The hammer has multiple purposes, but in About Creation of the Orphic Hammer he mentions it as “insurance policy”:

“The Hammer is not a weapon, it is an insurance policy. Its function is specific, but its utility is boundless. No chains forged by infernal hand can withstand its power, for its core is a metalifferous compound combining the purest of essence of all Nine hells. If I should ever need to liberate the prisoners held in the Iron City of Dis, to shatter the vaults of Nargus, or even to free the child of Gith, my hammer will be equal to the task.”

Makes good sense because what he has done with the Astral Prism is a pretty big deal and hard to undo otherwise.

Moonrise Towers, the Gauntlet of Shar and Astarion

So, Raphael makes a deal with the architect of Moonrise Towers, who you also see wandering around the House of Hope. The architect gives up his soul in exchange for Raphael ending Ketheric’s army.

To do that, he sends Yurgir who is tasked with killing every last justiciar. Raphael then makes a deal with one of the justiciars who he then turns into a bunch of rats so that Yurgir can’t fulfill his contract.

We then help Yurgir or kill him, and Raphael helps us with Astarion’s scars. (This is just me theorizing from here) I find it kind of interesting that Raphael seems to know so much about Astarion. You get the feeling that he has obviously done his research on all of the companions, but with Astarion he makes that nasty “you’ve kept your clothes on this entire time? How unlike you” comment. Astarion would be such an easy target to go after, which makes me believe that Raph definitely knew beforehand about Astarion AND Mephistopheles’ deal with Cazador, but he hasn’t been able to pettily do something about it before the things that happen in BG3. But he has kept an eye on it. He can’t be seen defying his father like that directly, after all. I just find it hard to believe that Raph wouldn't jump at the business opportunity of 7000 desperate vampires hiding in Baldur's Gate. Like he definitely knows.

Gortash

Raphael bought Gortash from his parents when he was a kid, and Gortash eventually got out. It’s quite possible that Gortash only knew about the Crown of Karsus because of Raphael. He even went through Raphael’s house to steal the crown (and probably took a portal from there to Cania).

Might also be the only reason that he would ever make a deal with Zariel. He knows the Hells and how they work. In a way its even more of a “fuck you” that he goes to Zariel because she is far above Raphael as she is the Archdevil of Avernus (and thus she is sort of Raph’s boss). We also don't know what Gortash gets in return for handing Karlach to Zariel. It's speculated that it has something to do with the construction of the Steel Watch, but it wouldn't surprise me if peace from Raphael was a part of it too.

A world without Raphael

So, basically: had Raphael not been there, Orpheus would be free and a whole people would have had very different lives under someone else than the Vlaakiths, because Orpheus would have rebelled and told everyone what she did to Gith (his mother). We wouldn’t have had the Astral Prism to protect us, but on the other hand, we might not even have had the whole tadpole business to deal with anyway if Gortash didn’t know where the Crown of Karsus was. The whole thing could literally have been avoided.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[winwintea]

heart to heart - zhong chenle

PAIRING ▸ art dealer!zhong chenle x fem!reader (ft. huang renjun)

GENRES ▸ fluff, romance, y/n discovers she has the ability to read chenle's mind, chenle lowkey jealous for a bit, painter renjun agenda, little bit of harassment but y/n is a badass

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DEAREST WIFE DAI DAI <33 @galacticskz @galacticseonghwa go check out her fics trust. i grinded this in 12 hours are you proud of me. I HOPE YOU ENJOY

WORD COUNT ▸ 3.7K (not proofread)

One night, I looked up at the stars, and I made a wish on them—a wish about my beloved Chenle.

The next morning, I woke up slowly, yawning and blinking as the world came into focus. It took me a moment to realize I was wrapped in someone's warm arms, my face buried in their warm chest. 

Oh, that's right... you were helping Chenle with his work last night, and then you fell asleep.

“Y/N? You awake?"

"Mmm... morning, Chenle." There was something so perfect about waking up in the arms of the man I loved, and having his voice be the first thing I heard. I lifted my head, smiling up at him, and our lips came together in a soft kiss that woke me up better than anything else could. I sighed softly as our lips parted again, my eyes still half-closed.

'You're adorable as ever this morning.'

"What?!"

"Hey, why are you shrieking in my ear?"

"Because you normally never say things like that to me!"

"Huh? I didn't say anything, let alone anything worth shrieking over." Were you imagining things? I swear that was his voice, saying I look adorable! 

Chenle had such a sharp tongue that hearing his voice say something that sweet had left my thoughts pinging and my heart racing. But then why would he immediately say he didn't say anything? And he looked suspicious and confused, not embarrassed or bashful. "Sorry... I guess I'm still half-asleep."

"Get it together, 宝子." Chenle chuckled softly, tousling my hair before letting me go and climbing out of bed, and I watched him bemusedly. 

There's no way Chenle would ever say something like that so casually. You must have been half-asleep and dreamed the whole thing.

I was still thinking about what had happened that morning as I carried the freshly-cooked pancakes to the dining room. "Here you go."

"Thanks." As I handed Chenle the bottle of syrup, my fingers brushed against his.

'These smell so good... I could easily use a whole bottle of syrup on them.'

"That's WAY too much!" I rolled my eyes at Chenle, but a moment later I realized the room was eerily silent, and everyone was staring at me.

Haechan looked at you confused, "...What's the matter, Y/N? It's not like you to just burst out with something like that."

"Huh? But Chenle was going to put a whole bottle of syrup on his pancakes."

Chenle looked at you with a guilty look, “...I haven't put anything on them yet." There wasn't so much as a single drop of syrup on Chenle’s pancakes yet, and he was staring very oddly at me.

"Um—well-just try not to use too much, okay!" I couldn't stand being subjected to that stare any longer, and I fled back into the kitchen.

—

It happened when we kissed this morning, and later when I handed Chenle the syrup. The voice I heard was his, but... different. I was thinking hard as I went about my morning chores, but in the end there only seemed to be one answer that explained things.

Somehow, I can read minds all of a sudden…? But I have to be touching them to hear what they're thinking. At least, based on what happened this morning. It was more like something out of a book or a movie than real life, and I felt like I had to test it to be absolutely sure.

I entered Renjun’s room to see if Chenle had come by to collect some of his paintings. "Hmm? Is something the matter, Y/N?" Renjun greeted me with a smile.

"Have you seen Chenle? I can't find him anywhere, so I thought maybe he'd be here, but..."

"He hasn't come by yet today."

I desperately wanted to test my theory by touching Chenle again, but he wasn't in any of the places I'd expected him to be.

Well, maybe you could test your theory on Renjun, instead? "Renjun, do you mind if we shake hands?"

"Hmm? Well, I don't mind, if that's what you want."

Renjun held out his hand without hesitation, his smile guileless, and I reached out and gripped it firmly.

Well, I can't hear anything, but- "Renjun... what are you thinking about right now?"

"Well, I was wondering why you wanted to shake my hand all of a sudden, and I was thinking how soft and small your hands are."

"Oh, right." His smile was that of a gentle angel, and I suddenly felt embarrassed and silly. I guess I really was just imagining things after all…

I stared down at our linked hands, still mulling it over, when suddenly a familiar voice spoke right in my ear. “..What are you two doing?"

"Chenle!"

"Hello, Chenle! Y/N and I are just shaking hands."

"That's right! We just felt like shaking hands!" I realized Chenle was staring down at our linked hands, and I quickly let go of Renjun, dropping my hand to my side. Great, now Chenle’s going to think I'm a total weirdo.

"I have no idea why you want to shake hands, but... try not to interrupt Renjun too much, 宝子." Chenle reached out to ruffle my hair lightly, the gesture as familiar as ever.

'It looked more like you were holding hands, and the ambiance was far too intimate for my liking. Don't tell me—‘

Chenle’s voice seemed to speak directly inside my mind, but l'd never heard him sound so unsure before. I'm not imagining things! That was definitely your voice, Chenle! Does that mean his is the only mind I can read?

I caught my breath, looking up at him, and his dark brown eyes met mine directly, his hand still resting lightly in my hair.

'I won't give you up to anyone, Y/N... not even Renjun.'

Wait, wait, hold up— Chenle, are you jealous?! My heart leapt with an odd sense of exhilaration to know that Chenle cared about me that much. But a moment later I felt suddenly guilty for making him worry like that, and I reached out, grabbing hold of his hands. "Chenle... you're the only man I love."

"Where did that come from?!"

"I just wanted to tell you, that's all!"

I was staring right up at him, and so l saw the faint flush that crept across his cheeks. I tried to think of what to say, and then I realized Chenle had gone unusually quiet. Chenle and Renjun were both staring at me, but I couldn't stop giggling at how honest and earnest Chenle’s inner voice was.

—

"We have two stops today. Let's go, 宝子."

"Okay!" Chenle had sold several of Renjun’s paintings, and we were in town to deliver them to the buyers. 

I still can't believe I can read his mind, just by touching him. I mean, I thought it would be nice if I could, but... now that I can do it, it feels kind of like I'm invading his privacy. I glanced over at him as he walked by my side, but then I found myself staring at my feet, my step slowing. I'll just have to be careful not to touch him unless I have to. But... what if it never goes away? What am I going to—

"Y/N!!" Chenle grabbed me, pulling me towards him, just as a car went whizzing past right where l'd been standing. "What are you doing? Be more careful!"

“..Sorry."

'That was really dangerous. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt.'

'And you're acting oddly today. You had your head in the clouds earlier, too. I'd better keep a closer eye on you.'

His arms were warm around me, and I could clearly hear the worry in his inner voice, and suddenly I couldn't stop grinning. Ahh, I was just telling myself not to invade his privacy, and yet... knowing how much he cares makes me so happy.

"What are you smirking about?" Oops! You weren't meant to see that! I reminded myself I shouldn't be listening to Chenle’s thoughts, and I started to slip free of his embrace.

"Nothing-hey!" But then I felt his hand on my head, its warmth reassuring and familiar as he tousled my hair. "C'mon, Chenle, you're gonna make a mess of my hair!"

"Like that any different from how it usually looks."

"Speak for yourself, Bedhead!" He was back to his usual teasing, and I pulled a face at him, but then I saw the way his expression relaxed a little.

'That's better. You're acting more like your usual self.'

Wait, does that mean he did that on purpose? Was he teasing me to provoke a reaction because he was worried about me acting strangely? It was strange to think that his sharp words might be a roundabout expression of his kindness, and I studied his expression. Does that mean all his teasing is just a way to hide how he really feels?

‘I love it when you smile, but I love that pout, too, and those faces you pull at me. They make me want to provoke you more.'

Never mind, I take it back. He just likes messing with me.

'I want to tease you more, and make you pout more, and then I want to kiss that pout away.'

His thoughts took a very sudden turn, his inner voice suddenly sultry as it murmured inside my head, and my heart leapt. "Not here!" 

"...Huh?"

Oh crap. It was only after I'd spoken that I realized I was responding to his thoughts, not his words, and I froze as he stared at me. 

"What's that supposed to mean? Don't tell me—"

Ugh, how do I even start to explain that I can suddenly read his mind? I don't even know how it happened! "Seriously, Chenle, we're getting in people's way here! That's enough teasing!" 

A frown creased his brow as he stared down at me, and it was obvious that he was still suspicious. But I did my best to ignore it as I grabbed him and dragged him off down the street towards our destination.

—

"My, my, Chenle, this latest painting really is quite divine! As you know, I pride myself on my ability to recognize fine art! You must look at this painting I bought just the other day..." This collector regularly bought Renjun’s paintings from Chenle, and his voice was openly admiring as he gazed on his latest piece. But soon he was leading us through his collection, and talking cheerfully as he showed us his latest acquisitions.

"Haha, yes, quite. You have good taste, Sir." Chenle followed after the collector, making all the right sort of responses, and yet he seemed oddly restless.

"Chenle, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, it's just..."

"Chenle, you simply must tell me what you think of this one!" Chenle quickly turned his attention back to the collector, and I cursed the man silently for his bad timing.

Was something bothering you, Chenle? Okay, listen, I really am sorry about this, but—

I stepped a little closer to Chenle, placing my hand on his arm in what I hoped seemed like a casual gesture.

'This isn't good.'

'He's clearly nowhere near finished, but if he goes on much longer, we'll be late.'

I let the collector talk to Chenle for a moment, so that he wouldn't realize I'd read his thoughts again, and then leaned close. "Chenle, I just realized... are we meant to be delivering the next painting soon?"

"Yeah, we are. If we don't leave soon, we'll be late, but..."

'This guy loves the sound of his own voice. But he's a good patron-and he supports new talent. I don't want to do wrong by him.'

Now, I get it. Not that I'm surprised that he cared about his customers—it's so like him. But I wish he’d rely on me a little more, even for little stuff like this.

Chenle had a tendency to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, whether those around him wanted him to or not. He'd started opening up to me more since we'd become a couple, and it meant a lot to me each time he did. But I still felt like he took too much on to avoid relying too heavily on me. Especially when I wanted him to rely on me. "How about I go deliver the painting for you? You don't really need me here right now."

‘I'm not sure I should be sending you off on your own like that.'

I smiled up at Chenle, delighted that this strange power had allowed me to see new sides of him l'd never known existed. "Don't worry, I'll be fine! Stay here and keep the marquis company, okay? I mean, it's an important part of your job too, right?"

"..Fine. If you could, l'd appreciate it. I'll be there as soon as I can." He reluctantly handed over Renjun’s other painting, but I gave him a confident smile as I turned to leave.

—

I hurried through the busy streets of town and made it to the next appointment on time, but it was all downhill from there.

"I'm sorry, but... what do you mean, you no longer need the painting?"

"A painting by an artist not even associated with L'Académie des Beaux-Arts does not deserve to be displayed in our fine home. At least, that's what Mother said. And I find myself in agreement with her."

Paintings adorned the walls around us, none of them as good as Renjun’s, and I frowned at the young man's careless words. "But... I thought you attended his solo exhibition, and that you fell in love with this painting on the spot?"

"I suppose I thought it curious, and novel. But everything has a 'status' it can't rise above... people and objects both." The young man glanced at the canvas I carried, still concealed carefully in cloth to protect it, and gave a scornful snort.

I bit my lip as I hugged the canvas tighter, trying to stop myself from saying the first angry thing that came to mind. I can't believe that he’d actually dare to make a mockery of Renjun and Chenle like this! "I think it's a mistake to decide the value of a painting solely by whether its artist has been approved by L'Académie or not." My voice was tight, but I managed to keep my words mostly polite, and the young man gave me an appraising look.

"How about this, then? Tonight, you can tell me your thoughts on fine art... in my bedroom.

And if you manage to persuade me, I'll buy the painting.” 

Are you kidding me?! I was so horrified and angered by the man's sudden power play that I froze, unable to figure out how to react without exploding. "Well, what do you think?" He must have seen the fury in my eyes, and yet his expression was smug as he reached towards me

Chenle—this idiot would never dare do this to you, would he? How do I get out of this without punching anyone?! How would YOU get out of it? I know you, Chenle. No matter how ridiculous something was, you'd face it undaunted.

"...Fine."

"In that case—" The young nobleman smirked, but before his hand could actually touch me, I slapped it away.

"If you don't want to buy the painting, that's fine. This painting deserves better than being sullied by your lewd suggestions. It should go to someone who truly appreciates its beauty, and all the love and effort the artist put into painting it." I stood straight and proud as I met the man's gaze, and his expression stiffened at once, anger flaring in his eyes.

"I was prepared to do you a favor! How dare you mock me like that! I'll make you sorry you ever said that, you and that worthless painting both!" There was real anger in his voice, the anger of man not used to anyone ever crossing him, and I took a quick, wary step back.

"You're the one who's worthless, if that's how you think." I glanced back and saw Chenle standing just inside the doorway, a confident, brazen smile on his face.

"You-you're the dealer who arranged that solo exhibition, aren't you? You're not even from my status, yet you dare call ME worthless?" Um. I’m pretty sure Chenle’s family was worth triple your fortune, but Chenle firmly stood there. 

"Yeah, I do. You use your power to blackmail women. You sneer at artists, without even trying to appreciate art itself. There's no way l'd ever sell art to someone as worthless as you."

"You filthy common-blood! How dare you speak to me like that!" The man's voice grew louder with each word, his face bright red, but Chenle ignored him as he gazed around the room.

"And since l'm such a kind man, I feel obliged to tell you that 90% of the paintings in this room are counterfeit."

"What?! There's no way that's true—" The man stumbled back a step, looking stunned and flustered, and Chenle gave him one last disinterested glance. Then he reached out and took the canvas I was carrying, cradling it carefully in his arms.

"Let's go, Y/N." Chenle turned and strode out of the room, and I hurried after him. 

I thought he'd say something once we were outside, but he was silent as we walked down the street side by side. But it feels like he really wants to say something... so I'm just going to wait him out. 

He veered off into a deserted alleyway, and as soon as I followed him, he turned and caught my hand, pulling me closer. "Chenle? What is it?"

"Y/N... I'm sorry."

Chenle’s warmth enfolded me as he wrapped me in a tight embrace. "I sent you there alone, even though I knew he'd probably only gone to the exhibition to sneer at us 'peasants'. It's my fault you went through that. I should have been more careful, but I prioritized the collector’s feelings over your safety."

'What might that snobby 鸭蛋 have done to you, if I hadn't arrived when I did?' 

'Dammit. I'm a complete and utter fool, putting the woman I love in danger like that.'

His spoken voice was calm and earnest, but his inner voice was thick with anger-anger aimed at himself. He hugged me tighter against him, as if responding to the intensity of his own feelings. Oh, Chenle- he hides it so well that I didn't realize just how strongly he cared for me. But I can't stand the idea of him blaming himself for what happened. 

He patted my back gently, perhaps reassuring himself as much as me, and I lifted my head, looking up at him. His expression was calm, almost like a mask, but as I cupped his cheeks with my hands, I saw emotions trembling in his eyes. "It's okay, Chenle. It's not your fault. And I'm glad to know you were so worried about me." 

"That's not something to be glad about."

"Heh, I guess you're right." But it wasn't just this incident—it was the way he'd been taking care of me and watching out for me the entire day. But it didn't start today. He’s always been like this, hasn’t he? I just didn't realize it until I could read his mind. He teases me and he’s gruff and rude, but it's all bluster to cover up how kind he is, and how much he loves me. "I love you, Chenle. I love you with all my heart."

His eyes widened just slightly at my words, and then a sudden smile lit up his face, the worry and anger fading away. "With all your heart, huh? Does that mean your heart is mine?"

"I hadn't thought about it like that, but I guess it does."

"Good. Now show me you mean it." His smile turned into a smirk as he caught my chin, tilting my face up towards him. A moment later his lips pressed against mine in a sudden kiss, and I sighed softly with pleasure. "And if your heart's mine, I guess you should know that my heart's yours, too."

'It'll always be yours, and yours alone.'

Chenle-this time his spoken words and his thoughts are the same. It made me realize just how much he meant it, and I beamed up at him, wrapping my arms around him.

"You're smirking again. You're a whirlwind of moods today. First you're gloomy, then you're laughing, then next thing I know you're reading my mind, and—"

"What?!" Chenle spoke the words casually, yet my heart lurched uneasily in my chest.

"It was a random guess, but I'm right, aren't l? Even the things you said back there sounded like you were channeling me. When you told that noble brat where to shove it."

"Honestly, I was so mad that he was mocking Renjun’s painting, and when I thought about what you'd do, the words just came." I wasn't actually reading his mind then!

"You were trying to protect Renjun’s painting... and the value of the arts industry as a whole. Thanks, Y/N. You realize that makes you a fully-fledged art dealer, right?" His smile was gentle as he reached down and tousled my hair, and instead of ducking away from his hand, I grinned up at him. You have no idea how happy that makes me. But the thing that made me happiest was realizing that I hadn't needed to use my strange power to understand Chenle in that moment. We were close enough now that I understood the man he was, and the things that mattered to him. 

Hang on-he’s touching me, but I can't hear his thoughts anymore. As his hand fell away from my hair, I reached out and grabbed hold of it, but no thoughts flowed into my mind. Maybe I don't need it anymore, now that we're even closer than we were before? The idea made me happy, and I smiled to myself as I gazed down at our linked hands.

But when I looked up at Chenle again, he was studying me, his expression dubious. "Listen, Y/N... you can't really read my mind, right?" 

"Haha! Are you sure?" 

I grinned mischievously up at him as I twined our fingers together and pulled him closer for one more kiss...

perm taglist: @lyvhie

[bogleech]

Guess I have to make a main thread about this. Someone decided to fight with me in the notes on this post just yesterday about Gaza and made select responses of mine into a callout thread here, where they say my anger towards the IDF is all a cover for antisemitism. This didn't make any sense, because they said they were also against the IDF killing civilians, and I repeatedly said that Jewish people aren't to blame for the IDF or represented by the IDF in any way, putting us supposedly both on the exact same page. What gerry leaves out of their own screenshots, and I'd actually forgotten, is that at first they came at me from an angle that I was disrespecting the victims in Gaza.

So this implies they feel gaza is being subjected to a genocide, and a pretty big one, since they're upset my language made it sound "smaller and tamer." When it becomes obvious that I do in fact consider it a serious genocide, that's when they switch over to saying that my criticism of Netanyahu or the IDF is inherently an attack on Jewish people.

Notice I never actually said "zionists" in this screenshot, even, but that I defined "regular humans" as humans who don't want to kill innocent families. That would automatically include Jewish people since they overall do not wish to kill anyone, but have in fact spent quite a lot more time trying not to get killed. I believe there may be entire books about this fact! I think there's even whole museums about it, if I'm not mistaken?!

So then they pivot to saying I'm an antisemite because I said the IDF and its supporters can "burn in hell," and they say "invoking hell" is an antisemitic dogwhistle, which is definitely news to me?!

So I tried to clarify, again, that I'm only angry at the people who are themselves killing civilians and the "pro-genocide maniacs" who defend the killing of civilians, which they responded to as if I had "lumped them in" with those. You can just see right there that I didn't make any assumption that they were a part of that at all. Thanks to their earlier comments I still thought I was speaking to someone 100% against the IDF's actions, but every time I said that the killers and their advocates alone are bad, they've framed it in some new way as me just not liking anyone Jewish. So now that you have that context:

...In a response to an ask, they finally just say they hated me to begin with and set out with the intention to "bait and sealion" me (their own words!!) into saying something they hoped would be antisemitic, which they believe was successful despite me never saying anything about Jews other than "this isn't their fault." They saw what they admittedly wanted to, so strongly, that they show me saying "this isn't the fault of Jews" as evidence that I blame Jews. But speaking of people "going mask off"

In multiple more recent posts and asks, this person appears to say that they simply do not believe the IDF is really targeting children or ambulances or relief aid, that "none of those are true," and the deliberate targeting of any children is supposedly just a conspiracy theory??? So I guess they did successfully troll me and I feel like a real gullible dumbass, because the only reason I continued responding to this person in the first place was that they said they were in fact against the ongoing massacre. Instead, these comments sound like they think the IDF is being unfairly vilified by dishonest propagandists, and that's why they hated me enough to try and fish for callout fuel. That's the nastiest fucking thing anyone's yet pulled on me about this and it's not one that I'm just going to ignore. I should have smelled a troll early on and just blocked them, but it's SO hard for me to suspect ulterior motives. I always go in thinking people mean well, and that there's just a miscommunication we can work out. I almost feel like this individual noticed that and tried to exploit it?!? Unfortunately I'm sure this kind of thing will happen again simply because I don't intend to obediently shut up about what's being done to Gaza. It's not logistically possible for the death and destruction to all just be accidental collateral damage. Don't let anybody ever fool you into thinking the IDF is the face of the Jewish community or vice-versa, just as you can't let anyone fool you into thinking Hamas represents all Palestinians. Especially don't engage this person, stop doing so if you have been, and block them.