#i wanted to comment something but i had no idea what to say

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Here"

Ok yall I'm back with chapter 7!! Hopefully this posts bc it wasn't working yesterday. Sorry if it's confusing, I rewrote it like 5 times! I tried not to use {y/n} but i mightve slipped up! Hope ya'll enjoy!! The plot is finally moving!! Lmk if you have any questions. Likes, reblogs, and asks motivate me! I love when yall send me your ideas and comments and asks! Wish me luck, I'm posting this and then taking my math exam! If you don't like it, don't read, stop sending mean asks and submissions!

Breakfast the next morning was horrible.

The awkward silence lingered, thick with unspoken words and eyes that felt like they were scanning every inch of you. You could feel their weight on your back, like a thousand invisible hands pushing you deeper into your seat, forcing you to stay in this uncomfortable moment.

You could already feel the heat rising in your chest, but you bit your lip, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You weren’t going to lose your cool—not yet.

Damian’s gaze was fixed on you, like he was waiting for some kind of reaction, his lips pressed into a thin line. You knew what he was expecting: compliance. Submission. He expected you to shrink back under his scrutiny. And yet, there was something oddly satisfying about not giving him that satisfaction.

Instead, you focused on the plate in front of you, stabbing your fork into the pancakes with far too much force. You were still hungry, but the food felt like cardboard in your mouth, tasteless and dry, even though Alfred’s cooking was always the best.

Bruce was still watching you, his eyes heavy with a kind of expectant patience, like he was just waiting for you to crack. You could feel the tension in the room like a ticking clock, the seconds stretching longer than you’d ever thought possible.

"Why are you all staring at me?" you finally muttered, breaking the silence, your voice low but biting. You didn't look up from your plate, but you could feel the eyes on you. They all thought they could break you. They thought you were some fragile little thing, someone they could fix with their pity and their "family time." But you weren’t. You’d stopped being that person a long time ago.

Dick was the first to speak, his voice softer than usual, like he was trying to tread lightly around you. “We’re just trying to connect, I know it’s been a long time, and things got… complicated, but we don’t want to lose you again. Not after all this time.”

His words weren’t as comforting as he probably thought they were. In fact, they made your skin crawl. He was trying to be kind, but it felt forced, like he was reading from a script. You didn’t need this. Not from him, not from any of them. You wanted them to stop pretending like they could fix everything with a few hugs, a couple of "we missed you"s.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper, but it carried a weight. “I didn’t ask to be here. And I didn’t ask to be part of this family anymore.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened at your words, but he didn’t say anything at first. You could feel the flicker of something in his expression—guilt, maybe. Regret. He was looking at you, like he was trying to see the person you used to be. The person you had been before everything fell apart.

You weren’t that person anymore. And he needed to understand that.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Damian suddenly said, his voice a little too sharp. “You can’t just shut us out like this. You’re still a part of this family. Whether you like it or not.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his. " I can shut you all out, I can do whatever I want” you snapped, the frustration leaking through. “You’ve done it to me for years.”

Dick’s brow furrowed, his lips pulling into a frown. For a second, he looked genuinely taken aback by your words, “You don’t understand,” he said, his tone quieter but still laced with an edge. “We didn’t abandon you. Not on purpose. You think we didn’t care? You just never seemed to need help.”

You could feel the sting of his words, but you pushed it down, locking it away. You weren’t going to break. Not for him. Not for any of them. Of course you never needed help, you were too busy trying to be perfect.

“I was just a kid,” you replied, your voice a little rawer, louder than you intended. “And I was ignored by the people who were supposed to be there for me. So fuck you and fuck your family time too.”

There was a long pause, everyone looked around in shock, not expecting you to be so combatant and then Jason finally spoke up, his tone softer than usual, less teasing. “We’re trying, okay? I'm trying. We’re not perfect, and I’m not asking you to just forget everything. But we want to try. Let us try.”

You shot him a look, your eyes narrowing. “Trying isn’t good enough,” you muttered, your voice tight. “Not when it’s years too late. I don't want scraps of love anymore, not when i've had the real deal.”

Everyone seemed to quiet at the last part of your statement, suspicious of what it meant and from who you received "love" from. What convinced you that you didn't need them anymore?

“Then what do you want?” Tim interjected, his voice suddenly sharper, more direct than before. “What do you want from us? We’re here, and we’re trying to make it right. But you’ve got to meet us halfway.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell them that nothing would ever be good enough, that the damage was already done. But you didn’t. Instead, you just stared at Tim, meeting his eyes with a challenge of your own. You didn’t owe them answers. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, almost defeated. “I don’t know what I want.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know what you wanted. You didn’t know if there was anything they could do to fix things. But one thing was certain: you didn’t want to stay in this mansion, suffocated by their expectations. You didn’t want to play along with their idea of a happy family.

Before anyone could respond, you stood up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a loud scrape against the floor.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, turning on your heel. “I’ll figure it out on my own. I always have.”

You heard Duke’s soft voice in the background, calling after you, but you didn’t stop. You just walked out of the dining room, your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way toward the staircase.

As you climbed the stairs, you could feel their eyes on your back, the weight of their presence pressing down on you, but you didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if they watched. You didn’t care if they were disappointed. You just wanted to be alone.

That day, you stayed in bed. You ignored every knock on your door, every phone call, every beg and plead to come down and eat. You just wanted to be alone.

You woke up to the quiet hum of the manor, but it was far from peaceful. The silence was suffocating, a constant reminder that there was no escaping them—not now. You tried to pretend the night before hadn’t happened, that their constant attention wasn’t as overwhelming as it was, that you were going back to New York soon. Unfortunately, fantasies don't become realities, especially when reality is chasing them down.

Every one of them was here, waiting. Watching.

Bruce stood near the staircase, his presence larger than life. His eyes lingered on you as if he expected something. You weren’t sure what. Maybe gratitude, maybe obedience. He said nothing, just watched you with that expression of silent insistence.

“Good morning,” he said in that deep, calm voice of his, but there was something off about it. There was a layer of expectation beneath his words, like he was waiting for something from you.

You ignored him, brushing past him without a second glance. You didn’t want to engage, didn’t want to pretend like everything was okay. But it didn’t matter. They were all around you now, slowly closing in.

Tim was the next to corner you. You could feel his calculating eyes on you the moment you stepped into the kitchen. He had a cup of coffee in hand, but his focus was on you. Just you.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, the question seemingly casual but the undertone too sharp, too analytical. It wasn’t just a question, it was a probe, a way for him to gauge how much control he had over you.

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the fridge to grab something that could distract you, something that could make the reality of this house feel a little less like a cage. But the moment your hand touched the door, he was there, standing far too close, watching you, almost breathing down your neck.

“You know,” Tim said, his voice low, “we can talk today. If you want. We need to keep your abilities in check, make sure you’re safe, protected. ” His tone lingered on that last word, like he was reminding you that you were under his watch now.

You hated how calmly he said it. It made your skin crawl.

Steph was next, adding onto what Tim said with her stupid signature smile, "He's right y'know. It's dangerous out there. For you especially."

You ignored them both. Payback for their years of negligence.

Tim just stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning your face. “Fine, be like that,” he muttered, before walking away, but you knew he wasn’t done. He never was.

And then there was Dick. His usual cheerful demeanor didn’t falter as he breezed into the room, but it was too cheerful, too bright. He was pushing something, forcing something, like he was trying to manufacture happiness out of thin air, trying to remind you of who you were, who you used to be.

“Hey! How about we do something today?” he said, his voice far too eager. “We could go out and grab coffee, breakfast, anything. I know you’re probably not feeling it, but you need to get out of this house for a bit.”

You wanted tear him apart for thinking you could just “forget” everything and fall back into some comfortable, happy routine. But you didn’t. Instead, you just nodded stiffly, walking past him without acknowledging his words.

“Come on,” he tried again, following you, “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Just drop it, Dick,” you said, your voice like ice. “I’m not going anywhere. Ya'll made that pretty clear.”

His face faltered for just a moment before he plastered that damn grin back on. But you saw it, the frustration and determination behind his eyes. He wasn’t going to stop. None of them were.

Jason leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a smirk you couldn’t quite decipher. “Ah, the princess finally comes out her tower,” he teased. “What? Got tired of throwing shit around in there?"

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the heat in your chest rise. Jason always had a way of pissing you off with his words, making everything seem like a joke, but you knew there was something darker underneath. He wanted to get a rise out of you, he craved it. He wanted you to go back to being his annoying little sister with anger issues.

“Shut up, Jason,” you muttered, turning away from him, not caring that you weren’t hiding your anger anymore. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today.”

Jason just laughed, but there was a hint of something softer there, something that felt almost... like concern, buried beneath the sarcasm.

“Stop,” you snapped, but before you could escape, Damian stepped in.

Damian was the most direct, the most unforgiving in his attempts to bond. He stepped into your path without hesitation, his posture rigid and eyes narrowed, as if daring you to push him away.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice low, yet intense. “You think you’re some rebellious teenager trying to escape, but you’re not. You don’t get a choice in this.” His words weren’t harsh, they were final, like he had already decided your fate. And you were staying here, whether you liked it or not.

“You’re wrong,” you spat, your voice venomous. "I don’t need you.”

Damian tilted his head slightly, an unsettling calm settling over him. “You’ll need us eventually. Whether you want to or not. And you'll be grateful we never let you go.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you didn’t let him see it. Not yet. His audacity was insane. To think that you'd be thankful for being trapped in Gotham. Never.

As you tried to walk past him, you collided with Cass, who was standing silently behind you, her eyes filled with that knowing, unspoken concern. She's so creepy. She didn’t say a word but you could feel her presence, like a weight pressing down on you.

Cass placed a hand gently on your arm, her touch barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make you freeze.

Why are they acting like this? What changed these two weeks?

"You’re safe here," she said quietly, her words cutting through the tension in a way that made your skin crawl. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command.

You pulled away sharply, nearly punching her, your fists clenched at your sides. “I'm not happy.” you said, more to yourself than to her.

But she didn’t respond. Of course she didn’t. Her eyes just followed you, and that was worse than any words.

Barbara was close by, but she didn’t need to be loud. She never did. She had this way of talking in soft tones that made everything sound so reasonable. So loving.

“You don’t have to keep shutting us out,” she said gently. “You can talk to us. We just want to make sure you’re okay. All of us. We care about you.”

You felt the weight of her words crash down on you, suffocating you with their sweetness, with their hidden demands. Care. It was just another word for control, for keeping you locked in their world, locked in their gaze. If they cared, they would let you be happy in New York.

“Just stop,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her. “Just... stop.”

You sat in your room for hours again, ignoring everyone.

Bruce had spent the last few days carefully watching you, keeping his distance just enough to make you think you had some semblance of freedom, but now he was ready to step in, to claim his role as your father.

He had promised himself when you left for France, he would make it right. That he would make up for everything he had missed, for every moment he had abandoned you for the greater good of Gotham. But now, as the silence stretched between you two, he was determined to close that distance.

You had just returned to your room after another breakfast you didn’t want to be part of when you heard the knock.

It was Bruce.

“You’re not busy, are you?” he asked, his voice almost too warm, too hopeful.

You shot him a glance, wondering if he truly thought this would work. After everything that had happened, after all the times he had failed you, he still thought a few “father-daughter” moments could make things better.

"I guess not," you replied flatly, stepping aside to let him in, your mind already racing with how to get through whatever this was going to be.

The moment he entered, Bruce seemed to settle, as though he had a plan in mind, one he was eager to execute.

“Good,” he said, looking around the room, his eyes scanning for something, maybe an opportunity. Then, he turned back to you, hands clasped behind his back. “I thought today, we could spend some time together. Just us. It’s been a while since we’ve done something like this, hasn’t it? School starts soon and you'll get busy, you won't have time for me anymore.”

He was trying to joke around.

School. More like prison. The more he mentioned school, the angrier you got. You'd never done something like this. He did it with all his other kids though, with Tiffany. As you thought of her, all ideas of being nice to Bruce, of trying to bond with your father, flew out the window.

The words felt like a slap, and you couldn’t keep the bite from your tone. “Is that what you think this is? Quality time? You really think we’re just gonna pick up where we left off? Think you can change the past with brunch?”

Bruce’s eyes softened for a moment, his expression cracking, but only slightly. The guilt was there, unmistakable, but it didn’t erase the unspoken expectation behind his words. His voice became more gentle, more insistent.

“I know it’s not easy,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something else—something almost pleading, though he would never admit it. “But I want to make this right. You deserve this. You deserve... me. We can go out, maybe catch a movie, grab lunch, talk, whatever you want. I just want to be with you. Like you always talked about.”

You didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, as the weight of his words crashed over you. It was nice watching him beg for once. You had always wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted him to be a father, to care for you like he did the others. But that was before you tasted freedom, before you tried love.

Now, the idea of spending time with him felt like a betrayal to everything you had tried to protect: your own independence, your own space, your freedom. You didn’t want to be a part of his perfect little family anymore.

“No.” you muttered, unable to stop the anger from flooding your chest. “You really think that’s going to fix things? You think I just forgot what you did? Because i'm nice sometimes?”

Bruce didn’t flinch at your words, didn’t even show any sign of anger. Instead, he just stepped closer, his presence filling up the room, looming over you like an impenetrable wall. His tone remained patient, almost too controlled, like he was walking on eggshells.

“I know I can’t undo the past,” he said quietly, a trace of regret slipping through. “But I can be here for you now. I won’t make the same mistakes. I promise.”

A cold laugh escaped your lips. “You already have.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, the anger bubbling up inside you, but you pushed it back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Bruce’s eyes softened even further, the guilt twisting in his expression, and for a moment, you saw something else there—desperation. As if he was begging you to let him in, to give him just one chance to prove he wasn’t the same person who had abandoned you for years.

“We could just sit and talk,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “No expectations. No agenda. Just us. I’m not trying to fix you or make everything perfect. I just want to spend time with my daughter.”

Something in you snapped at the mention of daughter. The word that had haunted you for years. The word that had felt like a lie every time he used it. You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your composure.

“No,” you said, your voice flat, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You don’t get it. I don’t want this anymore. I don't want you anymore.”

Bruce’s face faltered, just for a moment, before he recovered. But the hurt was there, tucked in the corners of his eyes. “I'm sorry. I hope you know that.”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear it anymore. The damage was done. He couldn’t erase it. No amount of “father-daughter time” was going to make you forget what it had been like when he wasn’t there for you.

“Stop,” you snapped, taking a step back. “Just stop. You don’t get to do this, Bruce. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like everything is fine. Like everything’s fixed. You’ve ruined it. All of it.”

Bruce opened his mouth, but no words came. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to understand where it had gone wrong.

“I’m just trying to make up for it,” he said quietly, but the sound of it made your stomach churn. The way his voice cracked slightly at the end of the sentence only made it worse.

And you hated yourself for feeling even a little guilty for saying no.

But no. You wouldn’t let him do this. Not again.

“I don’t want your apologies,” you spat, your tone sharp, venomous. “And I don’t want your ‘time.’ You don’t get to play the father now.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked toward the door. You needed to escape. You needed space. You needed to breathe. You were leaving your own room to get away from him.

Bruce’s voice stopped you, and you felt the pull of his desperate plea in the back of your mind. His words clung to you, too heavy, too much. “I'll go, don't leave. This is your room. I just want you to know I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You watched your father walk away, and only after he left did you fall to your bed and cry.

The next days before school were a blur. You spent them locked in your room, alternating between crying on the phone with Ariel, avoiding the family when you went down to sneak food to your room, trying to butter up Bruce and convince him to let you go back to boarding school, and online shopping.

Yet somehow Monday morning you were up at 5:30 getting into the shower.

The thought of returning to Gotham Prep made your stomach churn. How could you go back to a place where you had no true friends? A school where you’d been bullied by half your grade. Where Tim pretended you didn’t exist, Damian and Tiffany ridiculed you in front of everyone, and Duke ignored you like you were invisible. Where you ate lunch in the bathroom, alone and cried in the janitor's closet like a loser.

But you weren't the same girl who walked through those halls last year. No, this year was going to be different. You were different.

Last night, as you scrolled through Tik Tok, a new idea formed in your mind. You’d had enough of being invisible. It was time for a change.

You had a plan.

You found the bleach blonde hair dye in your bathroom, hidden away in the back of a drawer. You didn’t need permission, and you certainly didn’t need anyone to hold your hand.

By the time the dye had set and you’d rinsed it out, you felt like a new person. It was the kind of hair that would make people stop and stare.

You woke at 5:30 and hopped in the shower, you wanted to take your time getting ready. You plugged in your pink dyson and curled your new blonde hair, it would fall into a blow out later in the day, complaining about your family to Ariel and Claire. You spent the next two hours getting ready, perfecting your makeup. You’d learned to contour, learned to do your eyeliner just right, and became a bronzer girl over the summer. You grabbed your favorite Chanel palette and messily applied dark eyeshadow in smoky charcoal, blending seamlessly into the crease of your eyes and eyeliner. You smudged on a bold dark burgundy lipshine that drew attention. You weren’t trying to be anyone but yourself, your new self.

Then came the clothes.

You'd already shortened your Gotham Prep skirt by more than a few inches. It was below your knees and now it showed off the thighs you spent all summer tanning. You wanted to make a statement, and if they didn’t like it, that was their problem. The white blouse, originally oversized, was now form-fitting, you wanted it to give that one Bella Hadid picture. You left the top buttons undone, the tie hanging loosely around your neck in a deliberate, I-don’t-care gesture. You could feel the fabric clinging to your skin, reminding you of how much control you were regaining. You looked like the kind of girls you used to call whores last year.

You looked through your drawers for your signature jewelry you collected over the summer and during school. Big gold hoops on your ears, studs in all your other ear piercings, a tiffany heart necklace that rested on your exposed collar bone, and multiple bracelets stacked on each arm, jingling as you moved.

As you stood in front of the mirror, you smiled. You looked good.

Lastly you grabbed your Isabel Marant sneakers, chic and effortless, and slipped them on. They were expensive, but it wasn’t about the price—it was about the look. The vibe. Then, more than few spritzes of perfume. Something sharp, and not too sweet. You wanted to make a lasting impression, to turn heads as you walked.

By the time you were done, you felt invincible. The girl staring back at you was someone who didn’t care what anyone thought. You weren’t going to be bullied anymore. You were going to be the one who dictated the terms.

You walked out of your room, head held high, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Downstairs, the Batfamily was gathered at the breakfast table, doing their usual routine. They all stopped talking the second they saw you.

You’d barely stepped into the room when the heavy silence fell over the table. Bruce looked up, his expression instantly darkening. His lips pressed together in a thin line, his gaze flicking over your appearance.

“Is this what you're wearing?” His voice was tight, a hint of disapproval slipping into the words.

You gave him a look that said everything. “Is something wrong? I thought it was cute.” Your tone was soft, teasing, but with a bite underneath. You weren’t asking for his permission. You were daring him to say something.

Tim, who had been looking at his phone, blinked up at you with wide eyes. He’d been so engrossed in whatever he was reading that he didn’t even seem to know how to respond. His fingers hovered over his screen, unsure whether or not to comment.

“Are you seriously going to school looking like that?” His voice was tight, an edge of surprise and confusion beneath it.

You crossed your arms, leaning back in the doorway. “What? You don’t like it? Your friends might.” You knew how to unsettle him. That much you were sure of. You wanted to push his buttons, make him paranoid.

Dick was the next to react. He put down his coffee, glancing over at Bruce before looking back at you. “I get that you’re, you know, trying something new,” he began carefully, but the unease in his voice was clear. He was trying to be supportive, trying to understand, but it didn’t take much to see how disapproving he felt. “But—”

“But what, Dick?” you interrupted with a sudden change of attitude. “You don’t like it? That’s a shame. It's so crazy I literally never asked.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He simply shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

Jason snorted, clearly not impressed. “You trying to turn heads or get yourself in trouble? Skirt's too short, change that shit.” His voice was low, but it had a sharpness to it now. His gaze scanned you from head to toe, his mouth curving into an almost imperceptible frown.

You weren’t fazed by his dismissive and angry attitude. If anything, it made you want to lean into it more. “I'm not changing, you want alonger skirt? You go put one on and come talk.” You shrugged nonchalantly, your tone saccharine sweet. "And I don't want trouble, but i don't mind it."

“Yeah, I can tell,” Jason drawled, eyeing the large hoops dangling from your ears. “Nice hoops. Real classy.” His lips twitched, mocking the exaggerated size of them. "I didn’t realize big was your thing now."

You smirked, reaching up to tug at one of the hoops, the gesture playful, but intending to piss him off. “Big boys like big things, Jason,” you replied smoothly, without missing a beat. “And you know what they say, the bigger the hoop, the bigger the....” You were quickly cut off before you could finish talking and ruining everyone's apittite.

Damian, ever the hater, set down his cereal with a dramatic flare, slamming it down and glared at you. “You look like you belong in a cheap nightclub, not Gotham Prep. Should we drop you off on the nearest corner?” His words were sharp, cutting—typical Damian, though you could hear the pure anger in his voice.

You chuckled softly, not phased in the slightest. You'd rather be at a cheap nightclub honestly. “I’m just bringing a little fun to Gotham, Damian. You should try it sometime, maybe then you wouldn't be so hateful all the time." Your tone was uninterested, like his insults weren't even worth your time.

Steph and Cass exchanged a look, both clearly unsure of how to react. Cass, as always, seemed more interested in watching you than engaging, while Steph’s gaze flickered between you and the rest of the family. Barbra was just staring at you in disbelief.

“Is it really that bad?” Steph finally asked, though her voice wasn’t quite as gentle as it could have been. There was a nervous edge to it. “I mean, you’re, uh, pulling it off…” She trailed off, clearly unsure how to proceed.

You ignored her, who cares what she thinks? Her and the rest of them are irrelevant. If you like it then so what. Her comment did make your lips twitch into a smile subconsciously though.

Alfred, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, cleared his throat before standing. “Miss, I must say, it’s a rather bold change. But perhaps not one that will be received well by the staff and teachers.” His words were polite, but you could hear the disapproval in the undertones.

You gave him a bright smile, not at all sorry. “I’ll take my chances, Alfred. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I've played this game before.”

Bruce, who had been seething quietly, finally stood up from the table. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with a tense frustration. “Go change. Now.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Make me.”

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, then something else, something more. He clenched his fists for a moment, clearly fighting to maintain control. But you weren’t backing down. Not this time.

“I’m not going to let you walk out of here like that,” Bruce snapped.

You didn’t miss a beat. “You won't let me do anything. I go to school like this or I don't go at all. And since when do you care?” You crossed your arms and stuck your foot out, pouting like a child, staring him down waiting for him to surrender.

Bruce hesitated for a moment, his expression softening ever slightly. “Fine. But you’re pushing it. You're not going like this tomorrow.”

Bruce 0, You 1.

Jason, who had been watching the exchange with interest, chuckled. “You really know how to work him, don’t you?”

You flashed a smile at him, leaning back in your chair as you stood up and grabbed your bag, ready to leave the room. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We're already late. Jason, you driving?” Jason was the most fun, and he wasn't as nosy as Dick or Barbra.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m driving us all today. Come on, let’s go before Dad starts pulling rank.”

With a dramatic sigh, Bruce reluctantly agreed, shooting a last, disapproving look at your outfit before turning toward the door.

The engine of Jason’s car hummed steadily, but the air inside was anything but calm. You had decided to make this ride your moment. If you were uncomfy, you'd make them all feel the same. The others in the car—Damian, Tim, and Duke—were bracing themselves for your usual attitude, though this time you could tell there was a noticeable edge to the tension.

Jason, who was driving, was trying his best to keep his eyes on the road, but you knew he was glaring at you through the rearview mirror. Damian was next to you in the backseat, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, like he was ready to throw down at any second. Tim sat on the other side, buried in his homework, something to do with Gotham Prep’s ever-pressing academic requirements. Nerd.

And Duke? Duke was the least bothered, but you were sure he was mentally rolling his eyes at you the moment you stepped into the car.

You were far too busy with your phone, flipping through TikTok videos and checking your DMs, but every so often, you’d glance at the boys just to see their reactions.

“So…” You leaned forward a little, propping your elbow on the middle console. Your voice was light, casual, but you could feel the energy shift around you. You knew this would get under Jason’s skin. “You think any of the boys at Gotham Prep will notice my glow up? ”

You heard a long, heavy sigh from the driver’s seat before Jason muttered, “She's in that phase huh,"

But you weren’t listening. You were too busy smirking at Tim, who barely looked up from his book. You could feel his eyes narrow, probably out of sheer annoyance. “I mean, it’s inevitable, right?” you continued. “I'm 16 now, I'm better looking. Is there any fresh meat since I left? Anyone interesting, new friends maybe??"

Jason was silent for a moment, but you could see the grip on the steering wheel tightening in his peripheral. He wasn’t going to let you get away with this.

"Listen," Jason said, his voice calm but with that sharp edge he always used when he was trying not to lose his temper. "I don’t want to hear about boys, okay? Not today, not ever."

You blinked dramatically, as if you were the one being attacked. “Oh, come on, Jason, don’t be such a buzzkill. I’m not doing anything. I just wanna know if anyone’s looking.” You reached forward and pressed the button to connect your phone to the car’s Bluetooth, your nails clicking loudly across the screen as you searched for the perfect song to add to the atmosphere.

You knew you were getting to him. Jason was always so serious when it came to boys, always so guarded, especially when it came to you. It was fun getting under his skin. He glanced over his shoulder at you, but you were already half-distracted by your phone.

“Relax, Jase,” you shot back, ignoring his glare. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just curious. It’s just—boys.”

You needed something to stop the ache that came with your new powers.

“Don’t make me pull this car over,” Jason threatened, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror again.

You laughed softly, loving how easily you could provoke him. You leaned back in your seat, stretching out your legs, and noticed Damian watching you like he was deciding whether to strangle you with his own scarf.

“Damian, you’re so serious,” you sigh, you'd been ignoring him lately but you forgot how easy he is to provoke. “You know, you should loosen up. Boys are fun to look at, and to—” You cut yourself off before you could finish the sentence, letting the tension simmer.

Damian’s face twisted in that way he did when he was trying to pretend you didn’t bother him. “I don’t care what you do with boys,” he muttered. “But if you think I’m going to sit in this car while you talk about them like you’re some kind of—”

“Oh, no,” you interrupted with a teasing smile, “Not some kind of what? Some kind of what?” You stretched your legs a little further, drawing more attention to the hem of your skirt as you adjusted yourself in your seat. Making it even shorter now that Bruce wasn't here. You felt the eyes of your brothers boring into you, especially Jason's. “Honestly, Damian, lighten up. If you stopped being such a little grumpy loser all the time, you’d get more attention from girls. You have my looks y'know. ”

Tim, who had been pretending to focus on his homework this whole time, finally looked up from his papers with an exasperated sigh. “Can you not?” he asked, voice strained. “We’ve got school in twenty minutes. We don’t need a whole lecture about boys in the car.”

“Hey, no need to be so dramatic, Tim,” you said, turning your attention to your phone. You found your favorite song, the one that was guaranteed to annoy everyone in the car. “I’m just having fun. It’s not like I’m gonna do anything crazy. I just wanna know who’s gonna be there today."

You were making them all uncomfortable, and you loved it. You could already see Damian’s jaw tightening in the rearview mirror and Jason’s knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. Tim was staring at you like you were a whole new level of annoying. Even Duke rolled his eyes.

But that wasn’t enough. You needed them to be seething.

“I’m telling you right now,” Jason warned, his voice dead serious, “no boys today. No messing around. You’re going to class, and you’re staying focused. I'll check your phone if I have to. Got it?”

You put on your best innocent face, looking up from your phone as if you hadn’t just been causing a small riot in the car. “Okay, okay, Jason. No boys. I'm more into men anyway.”

Damian scoffed again, muttering something about how “pathetic” it was. You just grinned and rolled your eyes.

“Hey, you’re just jealous because girls don’t look at you,” you said, winking at him. “Maybe if you weren’t such a pain in the ass, you’d get noticed more.”

Duke, who had been quietly observing the entire conversation, finally spoke up from the backseat, his tone easygoing but with a hint of amusement. “You got any tips for me? Am I chopped liver”

You rolled your eyes at him, still not over his betrayal. “Glad you’re entertained, Duke. I don't think even I could help you.”

As you said that, you grabbed the aux cord and plugged it into your phone without asking.

Jason let out a sharp sigh, but you just grinned. “I’ve got it from here,” you said as you clicked on Drake’s Hotline Bling. The song blasted as you maxed out the volume. Damian looked like he was about to combust.

“You really are a pain in the ass, aren’t you?” Tim muttered under his breath, trying to focus on his schoolwork again.

You grinned. “I like to think of myself as entertaining.”

Duke nodded his head to the beat, tapping on his phone and Jason’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror, but you could see the playfulness in his face. He was trying not to smile, despite himself.

“I’m just saying, no boys today, no skipping, no trouble” Jason reiterated, trying to keep a semblance of control. “And if I hear anything about you messing around, we’re going back home, got it?”

You leaned back in your seat and stretched again. “Sure, sure, no boys. But just so you know, if i get into "trouble" it’s not my fault.”

Jason didn’t respond.

When you finally arrived at Gotham Prep you sighed, grabbed your bag, straightened out your skirt one last time, and nearly ran away from them so you didn't have to walk in with Duke, Damian, and Tim. “See you later, losers,” you said with a grin, pulling your sunglasses on as you walked away from the car.

Gotham Prep didn't know what's coming.

Taglist:

@strwberryglass @lilithquillete @delias-stuff @bellatrixmld @damainwayneisthebestrobin @kittzu @lilyalone @yokesmam @sanjisluvbot @facelessisnthere @dollwhite @superstarbucks

@angelunatic @littledollete @cutelittlesugarfairy @darbystrange @sxftiebee @zealous0mouse @trashlanternfish360 @galaxygirlsblog @euphoria-looney @1simpchunkygirl @a-lurking-fae @analuixxy @naturallyspontaneous @horror-lover-69 @pastel-mouse @ladyrosemone @frankie-moon3 @catley1011 @justannie18 @yandereaficionado @ithoughtthinks @asdfghjklgayblog @shadowyknightbeargoth @peche4et3chocolat @boredselkie @rogueofbullshit @iamabeaner @rosesunderthegarde

[maretinelli]

FAVORITE AUNT

Oscar Piastri X fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n needs to buy a birthday present for her niece, she doesn't know how to do it because she's never been that good with children. But Oscar sees at dinner how much the children love her.

Words: 2.8K+

Warnings: Cute, funny, Oscar being very affectionate (oh how cute😭) And I think that's it

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. You can request stories on my profile. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

The Australian sun seemed warmer that afternoon, painting the sky with golden hues as the sea breeze tried to alleviate the heat. The air carried a faint smell of salt mixed with the sweet aroma coming from the coffee shops scattered along Melbourne's busy streets.

Y/n and Oscar walked hand in hand through the shopping center, passing illuminated storefronts and listening to the lively buzz of people enjoying the end of the holiday season.

Oscar, who was on vacation after the end of the championship, liked the light energy that the city transmitted. He was used to the fast pace of the races, but there, next to Y/n, everything seemed to slow down in a good way.

They had already passed by several stores—bookstores, children's clothing stores, and even an educational toy section—but Y/n still didn't seem satisfied with any of the options. Oscar, on the other hand, was already starting to find her indecision amusing.

"I think we've already walked halfway across the city," he commented, squeezing her hand lightly. "What exactly do you want to give as a gift?"

Y/n sighed, stopping in front of a large, colorful toy store. "I have no idea" She admitted, biting her lower lip.

Oscar arched an eyebrow, gently pulling her into the store. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with children running between aisles filled with stuffed animals, dolls, cars, and board games.

"What do you mean?" He asked, watching Y/n look at the toys with a confused expression.

"I've never been very good with children," Y/n confessed, crossing her arms. "I don't know, I don't have that natural instinct to know what they like."

Oscar laughed, picking up a dinosaur doll that roared as he squeezed his belly. "Are you serious? You seem to be great with everyone." He asked a little in disbelief.

Y/n smiled, picking up a teddy bear and examining it uncertainly. "The kids don't really seem to like me," she confessed, pouting a little.

Oscar frowned, still a little skeptical. "You sound like you have a curse that keeps children away."

"Looks like I do," Y/n rolled her eyes. "One day, I was at the salon getting my nails done with Mackenzie, and the manicurist's daughter came in all excited, smiling at her and saying, "Cinderella Moana!"

Oscar frowned. "Cinderella Moana?"

"Yes! She was wearing a Cinderella costume over a Moana one, it looked like a Disney crossover." Y/n laughed lightly. "And I tried to be nice, didn't I? I asked smiling what that meant..."

"And what did she say?"

Y/n huffed and threw her hands up. She turned to me with the most sullen face in the world and said, "I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to my mother."

Oscar held back his laughter, not wanting to disappoint his girlfriend with a laugh, and then handed her another toy to examine.

"Okay, that was a good one."

"And there's more!" Y/n continued, picking up a stuffed toy without much enthusiasm. "Once, my neighbor asked me to take care of her son for half an hour because she needed to take care of something quickly. I accepted, I thought it would be easy." Oscar was already looking at her expectantly. "But the boy cried non-stop because he said I looked at him the wrong way."

Oscar almost choked, allowing himself to laugh now. "What do you mean?!"

"I wanted to know too! I asked him what he meant by that, and he just cried harder and screamed 'I don't like this!'" She puts on a high-pitched voice.

Oscar was still laughing when Y/n sighed and began walking slowly towards a hallway full of teddy bears. He could tell her frustration was genuine and, without thinking much, he placed a light hand on her back, offering comfort.

"But Mary really likes you," he said softly. "And not just her, but the others too. Whenever I go to family gatherings with you, you can see how much they love having you around."

Y/n sighed, putting one hand in the back pocket of her jeans. Her eyes wandered over the shelf full of colorful teddy bears. "They probably just like me because I'm family," she muttered. "Because I'm their mother's sister."

Oscar smiled slightly and turned his body a little to face her better. "That's not true," he said, picking up a small stuffed rabbit and placing it in her hand. "Mary would love anything you gave her. If you gave her a rock, she would scream with joy and say it was the coolest gift in the world."

Y/n couldn't help but smile shyly, looking up and running her hand through Oscar's hair briefly, in an affectionate gesture.

In fact, her nephews really enjoyed spending time with her. They liked to play games, ask random questions, ask for help with schoolwork, and even tell secrets that not even his parents knew. But still, an insecurity insisted on staying there, hammering in his mind.

"But sometimes I think..." She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "What if one day I become a mother and my children hate having me as a mother?"

Oscar paused. The lightness in his eyes faded a little, and he pressed his lips together, feeling his chest heave. "Y/n..."

"I mean it," she sighed. "What if I'm not good with kids? What if they think I'm boring, or weird, or... I don't know, what if I'm just not good enough?"

Oscar turned to her completely and gently cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "You have no idea how lucky our children will be to have you as a mother," he said, his voice firm but sweet. "And honestly, I bet they'll love you more than they love me."

Y/n smiled weakly, feeling a cozy warmth spread through her chest. She wrapped Oscar in a brief hug, resting her face on his shoulder.

"Thank you for always being here."

Oscar smiled, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Always," he replied, before pulling away slightly and clapping his hands once. "Now, let's find a really cool gift for Mary."

Y/n laughed, finally feeling that maybe this whole kid thing wasn't that hard after all. After all, with Oscar by her side, everything seemed a little easier.

••••••••••••••••••••

The warm Australian night air brought a comfortable breeze, making it the perfect weather for an outdoor party. The sky was clear, dotted with stars, and the streets were quiet, lit by yellow streetlights.

Oscar parked the car in front of Meredith's house—Y/n's older sister and mother of her nephews. He turned off the engine before turning to Y/n, who was holding tightly the wrapped gifts in her arm, almost as if her life depended on it.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile playing on his lips. "You're more nervous about delivering this gift than you were when we first went out together years ago."

Y/n let out a sigh, adjusting the package in her arm. "Because I am! What if she doesn't like it? What if..."

Oscar chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek softly. "She's going to love it, love." He said sweetly, getting out of the car and opening the door for his girlfriend to get out as well.

With a suspicious look, Y/n took a deep breath and walked to the door, knocking a few times. A few seconds later, Meredith appeared, opening the door with a warm smile.

"Y/n! I'm glad you came!" She hugged her sister briefly before looking at Oscar. "And Oscar! It's been a while. It's good to see you again."

Oscar smiled, greeting her with a wave. "Time flies, doesn't it? But I'm glad to be here."

Meredith made room for the two to enter, and Oscar took the opportunity to place a comforting hand on his girlfriend's shoulder.

"Breathe, everything will be okay."

Meredith, not noticing the brief moment between them, turned back into the house and called out excitedly, "Mary! Aunt Y/n and Uncle Oscar are here!"

Oscar couldn't help but smile a little when he heard that, Uncle Oscar. He has sisters, but he didn't have any nephews yet. It was sweet that Y/n's family made a point of including him like that.

They followed Meredith into the backyard, which was beautifully decorated with balloons, confetti, and red and silver ornaments.

It was then that Mary spotted Y/n. Her eyes lit up and, without hesitation, she dropped what she was doing and ran towards her.

"AUNT Y/N!!!"

Y/n bent down just in time to receive the little girl in her arms, laughing as she spun her around slightly in the air before hugging her tightly.

Oscar, taking advantage of the scene, began to greet Y/n's parents, Meredith's husband and her other sisters, but his eyes always returned to his girlfriend and niece, a slight smile on his face.

Mary pulled away from the hug a little, her eyes shining with excitement. "I missed you!"

"Me too, sweetie!" Y/n smiled, holding out the gift to her niece. "Here's your present, little one. I hope you like it... Uncle Oscar helped me choose."

Mary grabbed the package with excitement and quickly tore the paper open. When she saw what was inside—a huge unicorn plush toy, a painting kit, and a Barbie doll—her eyes widened with pure happiness.

At the store, Y/n had been at a loss as to which gift to choose. Afraid of making a mistake, she ended up picking all three, which made Oscar laugh at the time and say that she was exaggerating. But now, seeing Mary's reaction, he knew that she had made the right choice.

"I LOVED IT!!!" Mary squealed, jumping into her aunt's arms again, hugging her tightly. "Thank you, Aunt Y/n!"

Y/n laughed, caressing the little girl's back. "I'm glad you liked it, princess."

Mary pulled back a little, looking at Yin with a pure smile. "Anything you give me will be nice. Because I love you."

Y/n felt some tears wanting to come out, but then she smiled and hugged her five-year-old niece once more. "Oh love, I love you too!"

Oscar, who was very close, leaned over and whispered in his girlfriend's ear: "Did I tell you? If you gave her a rock, she would be happy too."

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes before finally approaching her parents and other family members to greet them with hugs and smiles.

Oscar stood beside her, placing a hand on his girlfriend's waist while her father and brothers-in-law brought up the subject of racing, asking about the season. Meanwhile, Y/n's mother and sisters talked about random subjects, laughing among themselves.

Suddenly, an excited scream echoed through the yard, coming from inside. "AUNT Y/N!!!"

Before Y/n could turn around, three little 7-year-old hurricanes—the triplets, her nephews too—ran up to her and wrapped her in a tight hug, almost knocking her backwards.

She laughed out loud, trying to balance herself, but it was Oscar who, in a quick gesture, held her back so she wouldn't fall. Making everyone laugh.

"Okay, okay, boys, I missed you too!" Yin said between laughs, kissing each of their heads.

The triplets had moved away a little, but now their focus was on Oscar, who was watching them with amusement. With the seriousness of growing boys, they each reached out to shake his hand firmly.

Oscar bit back a smile and returned the handshakes as if they were closing a big deal. "Hey, boys? How's it going?"

"Well, Uncle Oscar!" they replied together.

Y/n looked at her boyfriend and smiled. He was already part of that family, and every day that became clearer.

After the lively greetings with the triplets, Y/n's father, who was chatting happily with his family, suddenly remembered a funny moment from his daughter's childhood and, with a nostalgic smile, asked:

"Y/n, do you remember that time you tried to run away from home because I wouldn't let you eat cake before dinner?"

Y/n widened her eyes, already feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She laughed nervously, hiding her face in her hands.

Her father turned to Oscar, eager to tell the story. "She was about six years old and decided she was going to run away. She took a little backpack, put two stuffed animals, a Barbie and... a piece of bread in it. She said she could take care of herself and that she would never come back."

Oscar laughed out loud, shaking his head in pure amusement. "Four years of dating and you still haven't told me that, Y/n?"

She laughed, embarrassed, and hid in his chest, making the family burst into laughter.

Before he could respond, Meredith and her husband appeared, calling everyone to dinner. The large table in the house was filled with excited voices, silverware clinking against plates and constant laughter.

The triplets and Mary were curious about Y/n's travels with Oscar. "Don't you get sick from flying so much, Aunt Y/n?" one of the boys asked, drawing laughter from the table before she could answer.

Oscar exchanged glances with Y/n during dinner, a discreet smile always present on his lips, as if to say that she did very well with the children.

After the congratulations and the cake being cut with Mary insisting that the first piece should go to Y/n, the night continued pleasantly. Y/n was chatting animatedly with the adults on the balcony when she felt a light tug on her dress.

She looked down and saw Mary, who was staring at her with bright eyes. "What's wrong, love?" Y/n asked, smiling.

The little girl fidgeted her fingers nervously before asking softly, "Can you and Uncle Oscar play with us? We have a cool game, but we're missing two people..."

Before Y/n could even respond, Oscar leaned over and said, laughing, "Sure, me and Aunt Y/n are going!"

He placed the glass of wine on the table and, in a natural gesture, took Y/n's hand, guiding her to the backyard, where the children were waiting anxiously.

The conversations on the porch died down when the adults noticed the couple approaching the group of children.

Y/n looked at her nephews curiously. "Okay, what's the joke?"

One of the triplets held up a plastic crown and placed it on her head. “It’s a wedding!” Mary announced excitedly.

Y/n and Oscar laughed out loud as they saw the kids putting on makeshift costumes. Mary clapped her hands to get their attention.

"Now everyone pay attention, because Aunt Y/n and Uncle Oscar are getting married!"

The game unfolded amidst laughter. The children improvised a speech, pretended to be priests and threw plastic flower petals.

Until Mary crossed her arms and looked at them seriously. "Now you need to kiss."

Y/n's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to respond, but Oscar just smiled at the corner of his mouth and, before she could think about running away from the situation, he gently held Y/n's back and waist and leaned her back, sealing their lips in a sweet and long kiss, respectful, but passionate enough to draw excited screams from the children.

The adults on the balcony whistled and clapped excitedly. When Oscar lifted her back up, Y/n buried her face against his shoulder, giggling shyly.

The night passed at a light and happy pace. Soon, Oscar and Y/n were at the front door saying goodbye to the family.

The children were the ones who took the longest to hug, holding Y/n tightly, and she ran her hand through each of their hair, promising that she would come back for them to play more often.

Oscar then held her hand as they walked to the car. He opened the door for Y/n and walked around to get into the driver's seat.

When he started the car, he gave her a long look before getting out.

Y/n frowned, laughing. "What is it?"

Oscar smiled. "Nothing... I was just thinking about how much the kids love you." He paused and joked, "I guess kids who don't like you are born with defects." Y/n laughed and pulled Oscar into a quick kiss, feeling his smile against her lips.

As they pulled away, he sighed, still smiling. "You're going to be a great mother, you know that?"

Y/n blinked, feeling her heart race. Before she could answer, Oscar continued, his voice full of affection: "I can imagine you going for walks with them, teaching them how to ride a bike, encouraging them in sports, cooking and reading stories before bed..." He chuckled softly. "And I'm there, by your side, watching it all happen."

Y/n bit her lip, feeling a warm warmth in her chest. "That sounds like a perfect plan." She smiled.

Oscar squeezed her hand gently before finally leaving with the car, guiding them back home, his heart light and full of love. Y/n knowing that now she knew that the children loved her.

[konjiang]

Cumplane Library au

Sy was in the Library studying when he saw that PIDW just had a new update, he almost couldn't contain himself and started fuming from anger. Thankful no one else beside the library staff was here right now.

He quickly craft up the most vile and disrespectful review post, and hit send before anyone else even left a comment. Some may say his dedication to hating on Airplane was obsessive and unhealthy, but his hands shake with fury every time he read a new chapter. If he didn't do something, he would probably get sick from the repressed feeling.

After spurring out all his hatred towards Airplane in the post, he resumed studying for his class. Right when he was about to put in his earbuds and to start playing some lofi, he heard a quiet chuckle from behind him. The quiet library staff was staring at him and trying to hide his laughter.

The burning in his face was sure to set the library on fire with how hot he felt. He couldn't believe that someone witness him in his lowest form. He quickly got up and packed his laptop away, planning on dying from embarrassment in the safety of his room.

'This is all that fucking dumb hack author's fault!' He practically ran to the door, but the door wouldn't open now matter how he pulled or pushed. He had no choice to turn around and pretend like nothing happened.

He tried to nonchalantly go back to his seat, but a pair of brown eyes followed his movement. When he crossed over the front desk, the guy abruptly stand up and smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you like that. It was that you were so funny getting mad at the novel you were reading." He had brown curly hair, dimples on both side of his face, a ponytail, and a innocent looking face. Sy thought that this guy looked exactly like what he thought LBH looked like.

"That door is currently shut because of construction. A lot of people have been trying to open it all day, but they never read the sign I put up." the LBH lookalike sighed, and SY turned his head and saw that there was indeed a piece of paper tape to the door, but in his flustered state, he couldn't bother to read it.

"Oh. Thanks..." Sy mumbled out, this day was getting worse by the second.

"What were you reading?" the innocent looking guy asked. Sy couldn't tell him, he couldn't be the one to ruin this guy's innocent.

"Just some webnovel." SY deflected, wanting this conversation to end already.

"Oh really?" They guy bounced a bit as he leaned forward causing his ponytail to sway slightly, "I like web novels too, which one were you reading?" SY stared at the guy's doe eyes, noting that he was definitely not as tall as LBH, since he was shorter than SY.

'He would look great cosplaying white lotus LBH.' Sy thought, but he didn't want to entertain that idea at all because his brain kindly provided him with all the sex scenes from varies chapters of PIDW.

"It's not really popular, so I don't think you'll like it." Sy stood there in agony when the cute guy looked at him disappointedly.

"Oh...okay. Sorry for bothering you."

'Fuck! Why can't god just strike me down right now.' Sy impulsively ripped out a piece of paper from his binder and wrote down his number.

"Here, I can recommend you some better novel. Just text me your preferences." Sy said coldly, trying to regain his composure.

"Really? Thank you!" The guy excitedly whispered as a group of student walked in. Sy took this chance to blend in with the crowd and leave when the guy was preoccupied with others.

'Ah fuck. If I ever met that dumbass author. I'm beating the shit out of him.'

--

As a university library worker, he seen a lot of things throughout his shifts. But he would never expect to find Peerless Cucumber reading the latest chapter in the library. Is it shame on him for posting it when he was working or shame on Cucumber for reading it in a public place.

He type in the phone number and saved it in his phone. His shift was about to end and he could fully plan out how to mess with Cucumber afterwards.

"Luo Binghe, you're free to go."

"Thanks" Luo Binghe, or more infamously known as Airplane, skipped out of the library while humming to himself.

[akanemnon]

Your latest mini-comic made me wonder: What are German hamburgers like? I know (or at least I think, forgive me if I’m wrong) that hamburgers originated from Germany but were adapted by Americans so I’m kinda curious.

Do they contain the same five food groups of two bread buns with meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion and some random sauce, with a pickle on top or does it change a little?

Do people stack multiple patties/chese at once or is self-control more prominent?

The burger Kris had looked like a less gross/depressing burger you can get at your local fast food joint. I was gonna make a comment on it before realizing I should probably stop looking at it through my American eyes and get a little curious.

So yeah, in conclusion, what are German hamburgers like?

The origin of the hamburger is still debated to this day, but since I am VERY familiar with our sandwiches I can see how they could have possibly carried over and transformed into the idea of a hamburger we know today.

I don't speak for all of Germany, but I like to think when I grew up there wasn't AS much info about what "authenitc" American food was like. Pretty much all we had to go off of was McDonalds and Burger King (sad, I know).

There was some sort of romatization on a lot of American staple foods, or so I've at least noticed growing up. I was like in high school when stuff like Oreos, Doritos or Skittles finally made their way over here. Some are still missing, but that's thanks to food regulations. But back to hamburgers.

Hamburgers over here are almost 1 for 1 as the hamburgers you have over there. Minus the pickle as a side (or on a toothpick). We typically just have them ON the burger itself. That's actually something I've only seen for the first time ever when I visited America last year.

Some fast food places do the multiple patties, but I personally haven't seen them go beyond 2. Maybe when someone's having a BBQ party and they're really drunk will they make a beef patty stack...

I think the main key difference is... the quality of the ingredients? Not saying the quality you have over in the US is bad, but... the EU has some VERY strict regulations when it comes to the quality of our food. Also in Germany's case we are pretty anal about bread. Of course we still have the classic sesame buns, but when I want a burger, I'll typically go for a brioche bun.

When my previous partner visited me in Germany for the first time, they did say we do burgers better than the US. But then again, I didn't take them to cheap fast food joints. We have our own restaurant chains that specifically focus on burgers, like "Hans im Glück" or "Sissi + Franz".

I also HAVE worked at an American diner before. And the burgers they made were pretty good as well. I honestly haven't noticed any difference in the style. Only in the quality.

[geekforhorror]

thinking about making a dirty film with ani <3

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOURE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), degradation, anis mean in this, pet names, mention of porn

When you first brought up the idea to Anakin, you never thought he would actually be on board with it. Obviously you didn’t know a lot of things as your face was now shoved into the pillows with your ass up.

Anakin had no self control in this moment. I mean how could he when you had finally told him doing something he had been waiting to do for ages. He of course didn’t wanna bring it up himself because he didn’t want to pressure you and plus, he wanted to see how pathetic you looked asking him.

“Dirty little slut wanted to make a film and now she’s crying, huh? I don’t think so baby. You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re not gonna complain,” Anakin seethed as he slaps your ass hard with his large hand, making you cry in pain. You would say you hated it, but you really didn’t. The way he was slamming into you along with the impact made you see stars. He brings the camera towards your face with the most smug smirk on his face.

“Say hi to the camera baby and tell them how well I fuck ya,” he orders of you.

“You fuck me so good Ani…need to cum.” you plead with tears in your eyes.

“You wanna cum, huh? Such a demanding little thing even when you’re full of my cock. You’ve been so good, so I’m gonna let you. Don’t let me and them down,” Anakin warns.

Before you can even respond, he thrusts back into you at an animalistic pace that has you clenching his cock even tighter than before. This change in your body’s response only made Anakin go deeper and faster inside your velvety walls.

“I’m gonna cum Ani-“ you say with desperation evident in your now shaky voice.

“Give it to me you slut, cmon. Give me what’s mine,” he seethes into your ear while looking at the camera.

With a few more deep thrusts and degrading comments, you feel your release splash out of you and onto his cock like it’s nothing. He groans at the feeling of you milking him and continues to fuck you through your much needed orgasm. The feeling proves to be too much for him when his warm, milky, sticky seed spills into your ass, followed with a breathy groan. It takes him a while to pull out, but eventually does when the two of you finish riding out your orgasm.

“Say bye to the camera, baby.”

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

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I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

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summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

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[the-weeping-dawn]

It's so funny how people talk about Omeluum being a cinnamon roll sweetheart and meanwhile he drops the most hilariously ominous line in the game. I actually have a whole post about him in my drafts.

......I now have the start of what could be a very long post on just how the way the two characters get presented to the audience, and how much the ominous cinnamon roll can really say while still being beloved when in this very calm, collected, no strong emotions in any direction, and sound soothing. With Blurg. Who's excitable, lively, friendly. And gives Omeluum his seal of approval.

and then The Emperor.......even just going through how much is immediately stacked against him in multiple directions....and he's anything but emotionless. And will bite back now, sometimes like the detect thoughts moment, have a direct earlier parallel that show he didn't have to just let you into his mind as is, but if you need to go that far at that moment. Okay. No boxing a relevant memory. Remind you that he is talking through his thoughts. ..and have the rest. That's what you wanted isn't it?

......and a lot of his breaking point moments are either after needing ot be on a negative relationship path, or chosing the needlessly cruel option, and getting that energy right back.

He's certainly not trying to convince anyone to change their opinion anymore 😅

....I keep nearly slipping into the long on presentation of those two post >.>

I've also thought about this because, as someone who's been reading vampire books since I was 14, the idea of another species killing humans for food is just not a new concept. The whole brain-eating thing just didn't even faze me the way it apparently did a lot of other players 😅

Same I was into vampires from when I was around that age maybe a bit younger either way so foundational and has so many variations that I find it more jarring that people act so scandalized by the idea of hunting criminals for basic sustenance. Presentation of it doesn't help again but anyway lol

whenever I decapitate Nere there's part of me that wants to just grab the prism and ask if for no real reason don't worry why I'm asking but he wouldn't happen to awant this head I happen to have on me would he? (I feel so bad when going through his backroom and he comments on the brain jar wishing he had one now.....Babygirl when si the last time you had something to eat? We see the honorguard corpses and clearly isn't going for them...I know the astral plane doesn't have moving time but that can't be good for him.........

Something that I think about a lot when I see arguments about the Emperor, especially in regards to what happened with Ansur, is---

No one offered Balduran/Emperor help. Not really. Ansur tried to cure him at first, but that didn't work, and that was where Ansur's help ended. Whether or not he was or is still Balduran is irrelevant here. He had his own mind away from the Elder Brain, he accepted that his life would be different now, and he still wanted to live. And I don't think he wanted to be evil or go around eating the brains of innocent people. He tells you that he ate criminals (if he's telling the truth), which is not ideal but was probably the best solution he was able to come up with. He wanted to find an ethical way to survive as a mindflayer.

I don't know DnD lore, but in the game, we learn that brains from already dead bodies are a viable option, since you can give one to the mindflayer in the mill. Karlach found a way to get brains from consenting people. Omeluum is trying to make a synthetic food source. There are ethical options and possibilities for freed mindflayers. But no one wanted to help the Emperor figure it out or make it work.

In real life, so often the reason people hurt others or turn to crime is because they just didn't have help or support. Which doesn't make every harmful action excusable. But I can't understand how people can think Ansur was justified in trying to kill him instead of helping him or even just giving him a chance. It hurts me to think how alone Balduran/Emperor must've been in the beginning. And I can't help but wonder if he'd have turned out differently if he'd had any support.

[tacitusk1llwhore]

Can you talk more about your opinion on Mary and Arthur’s relationship? I genuinely don’t think that they could have ever worked, with Arthur being an outlaw or not, it seems more like they loved the idea of each other and even if they had ran away, that they would end up resenting one another (something that is sadly quite common in high school sweethearts who end up married)

Absolutely!!!

So before I get started, I just want to say that I don’t necessarily like Mary. Okay, I said it. It’s off my chest. Guys, don’t come for me yet. I’m not saying I don’t like Mary because she’s a woman or anything like that. It is entirely a personal opinion on why I just don’t enjoy her, and it’s absolutely debatable on the reasons I’ll be giving as to why I don’t enjoy her or their relationship.

A few things that sort of rubbed me the wrong way are the way that Mary talks about the gang and the people in it. They’re bad people, they’re murderers and outlaws, and she doesn’t have to have a high opinion of them. However, she knows that these are people who are dear to Arthur that he loves and cares for, and speaking of them to him in such a demeaning manner has to sting. In her letter to him the first time, she says something along the lines of not knowing the polite term for the women that ran with them, as if those women are beneath her or not deserving of the title of just being women because of where they are in life or what she assumes they do (this assumption of them being SWs is fair, but being uppity about it is not). She makes a few other off-comments that rub me the wrong way about the people themselves, which leads into my first point of why I don’t like their relationship.

Mary doesn’t see herself and Arthur on the same level. Again, that’s fine; she doesn’t have to, but that to me brings their relationship down a peg. If you don’t see your partner as an equal, then it won’t ever work; you won’t ever have a healthy relationship, and we can see that by how quickly they argue with one another. I mean, Arthur yells at her in the middle of the street, and she just takes it because she has said some stuff too—they aren’t this perfect lovey-couple, and I don’t think they ever were. You don’t feel that comfortable being that nasty with one another if it isn’t a staple in your relationship. They both felt fine doing that and acting like it never happened after.

This one is overdone, and it can go either way, but their relationship on her end, in the game, is completely transactional. I know, I know, but before you come after me with the “it’s a video game! That’s the point,” hear me out first. Other members of the gang, even in stranger missions, will have missions or scenes where you’re not doing anything for them: Charlotte making Arthur dinner as a thank you, Albert inviting Arthur to the gallery and hanging a picture of him, same with Charles (painter), The Nun sits and talks to Arthur, comforts him as he confides in her, even Rains Fall takes Arthur to get some herbs for his cough. In camp, you can interact with people like normal; there are even times where you can sit down and talk with the women in camp about everything, have heart-to-hearts. The only time they see one another was when she needed something, and the only way they go out on a date is if Arthur agrees to it. This is after the mission where you help her get her brooch back. I feel like this is intentional. There are no fun letters sent back and forth, no additional interactions of them just being (other than the date, which again, only was out of convenience). The only time they see one another is for transaction. Which I feel was intentional.

Them running away together could’ve never worked. Mary even says so herself. She has this wonderful idea of Arthur in her head when they’re together, but as soon as they’re apart, all of the flaws and demons he has come rushing back in. I can’t imagine how maddening it would be for her to be with someone who she knows deep down is someone she loves the idea of, the prospect of what they CAN be, not what they are. For him, it would be maddening to know that the person you’re with looks down on you, that they don’t see you as an equal, that you’re beneath them. Pushing this notion in their head, you can be better than what you are while never truly accepting you as you are, flaws and all. Not to mention that irresistible pull for him to go back to that life eventually. Those demons he does face would always be right around the corner, and giving into them even in the slightest would strain the relationship more.

There was a reason their engagement didn’t work, and Mary has every right in the world to not want to be with Arthur or be involved in the life he leads, no woman who has had the experiences and life she has would. We can see how that works out with Molly. Their relationship is built on idealistic versions of the other and transactions. They miss the nostalgia, that first love. Not to say they don’t have love for one another because it’s very clear they do, but not the love that’s going to weather any storm. Mary and Arthur have such a complex relationship, and I love to talk about it, but I don’t like them together as much as I may get flamed for that. They would, as you said, absolutely end up resenting one another because of these issues. They would never have truly worked out as much as I wished for the both of them.

Loved this ask!

[fatuismooches]

Saw a fic from an author who make a harbingers x reader testing lip stick thingy and uhh suddenly have a thought of fragile!reader when one time they're spending time with a segment, had an ABSOLUTELY GENIOUS IDEA,(Reader's words) which is to wear a lipstick and bombard the segment with kisses whenever the segment do something for them. Safe to say that segment was left a little speechless(I imagine it was Alpha who is left speechless and red face bombarded with lipstick stain LMAO) And after that, reader start to do it to every other segments, and that caused a teeny tiny competition between the segments of who gets the most kisses. But at the end of the day, it's of course gonna be prime who got the most kisses (ugh, that man..😣 i love how you write him)

Have a nice day

(x) Although you didn't wear lipstick that much, when Columbina gifted you a pretty shade out of nowhere, you just had to try it out (obviously you had not seen the devious smile on her face). It was too lovely not to show off to the others too! You'd surely distract them from their work when your lips looked this appealing!

Alpha was the first on your list - he was always the sweetest to tease. Needless to say, the first kiss sealed the deal instantly. He acted grumpy at first and didn't meet your eye until he felt residue on his cheek, and upon rubbing the color off of him and realizing what it was, it was already too late. Your arms were in a death lock around him and he was left woozy after you were finished with him. Poor guy. He is also trying to figure out whether to continue working like this with the lovely reminder of your kisses or risk being seen like this.

Beta is more than happy to receive your kisses. He didn't even notice at first because as soon as you came to visit him, he immediately let go and started telling you his latest grief. But when he does notice, he gets up real close and personal and even smudges it a bit - he's just very interested. You also probably stained his white coat a bit from the kissing session. That's okay though! But please also leave a little kiss on one of his robots. It will motivate him whenever he's working.

Omega already knows what's about to happen when you waltz in, lips sheening with an unusual color. This hasn't been the first time you've come in showing off something new, after all. He's very teasing, letting you kiss against his hand before you get tired enough to pull him by his harness for a real kiss. When he finds out you've already shown the others though, he will get a bit peeved though. Next time, come to him first, okay?

Zandy didn't want to be left out of the party either, so you put a kissy stain on one of his drawings that he hung up in his room (along with all his other works of art).

Prime is pleasantly surprised and amused by the gloss on your lips. Did you miss him that much to doll yourself up like this? He'll let you give him kisses - just out of sight of what others can see. Which means, sometimes Dottore takes off his shirt and sees the residue from the lipstick you left and he smiles. Of course, no one will dare to comment if a kissy stain peaks out from the collar of his shirt. You will have to ask Bina for some more products at this point...

(Said lipstick was actually a Fontainian product that was quickly recalled after it was discovered the effects caused hypnosis when it came into contact with another's skin. However, it was ineffective on the segments and Dottore as they are already under your spell. Columbina was just curious about if it'd work. She is a lil instigator.)

[anotherbabyhag]

Can you do the fluff and smut alphabets for Rio? I haven’t seen anyone else doing them 🥺

Rio Vidal Fluff and Smut Alphabets

Rio Vidal Fluff Headcanon Alphabet

A = Aroma (What do they smell like?)

I don’t think she necessarily has a particularly strong scent. Likely something faintly floral given her penchant for growing flowers.

B = Babe (What would they use as pet names? Do they use them a lot?)

My love, mi vida, mi amor, darling, and sweetheart would be her go to pet names. She does use them a lot, she thinks that makes it more intimate when decides to use your actual names.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yeah for sure, she’s always touching you somehow. Her arm around you, her head on your shoulder. Spooning - she doesn’t mind who is which spoon, she loves to pull you close but also loves to be held by you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? What would they think about living together?)

Yes absolutely. She wants desperately to make a little home for the two of you, and maybe a family later.

E = Emotion (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very affectionate. She’s very touchy, but also quite liberal with verbal affection too.

F = Flirt (How do they flirt? Are they smooth or awkward?)

She’s not awkward but she’s intense. She comes on strong.

G = Gifts (Are they a gift giver? What kind of gifts do they give?)

Big gifts not as often but she’s always bringing (growing) you flowers. And also bringing you little trinkets she comes across - a bit like a crow does lol.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes definitely, she hugs you a lot as she loves to touch you. She’ll often come up and hug you from behind, you’re usually the first to pull away, she’d happily hold you forever.

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not fast. After Agatha she’s much more cautious, she’ll likely wait until you say it even if she’s felt it for much longer. But she’s happy to say “I need you” “I adore you” “I’m yours” etc instead.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Yeah she gets pretty jealous. Not so much when someone flirts with you, she trusts you and she likes to know she has someone who is coveted. But if you flirt back, even jokingly, she can get jealous and possessive. It makes her act sullen and bratty sometimes and aggressive and dominant other times.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

She likes to kiss your lips and your neck. Usually her kisses can be soft and slow or hungry and desperate depending on the day.

L = Little ones (How are they around children? Would they want some of their own?)

She’s surprisingly good, kids respond well to her authenticity. Plus she’s had plenty of experience helping the souls of young children cross over when they pass. She’d love children of her own yeah.

M = Meet (How did they meet you?)

By chance. Perhaps you were on a walk in the forest - spending time in nature is one of the few times outside of her job that Rio leaves the realm of the dead to come to the mortal realm.

N = Nurture (Are they good at taking care of you if you’re hurt/sick?)

Yes, she fusses over you and brings you anything you might need.

O = Out (What’s a typical date night with them like?)

Rio likes staying in, cooking together then relaxing maybe playing board game or watching tv.

P = Propose (When do you/they propose? How does the proposal go?)

Marriage is a mortal thing so Rio doesn’t particularly care about it. You propose but more like a joke, just by saying “we should get married”. It had been a flippant comment but as you talked about it more it suddenly became a real, genuine idea.

Q = Quirk (What small habit/feature/quirk do they have that you find especially endearing?)

The way she says the most random/out of pocket things in normal conversations. You just don’t know what’s coming next.

R = Routine (What does a typical day together look like? Routines, schedules, habits?)

Rio works a lot but she always makes time for you with morning cuddles, having breakfast together. And she tries really hard to always be home when you go to sleep.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Veryyyyyy protective. She’ll use her magic to fuck up anyone who hurts you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, etc?)

She puts in a lot of effort, it’s her way of showing her love and devotion to you.

U = Unique (What’s something they’d only do for you?)

Opening up and sharing her emotions. After Agatha she swore she wouldn’t do that again, but for you she will.

V = Vulnerable (How long does it take them to feel comfortable being vulnerable around you?)

It takes a while, Agatha has hurt her so much that it takes her a long while to trust and open up to anyone again.

W = Wardrobe (What would they wear to impress you?)

She knows she’s attractive and she loves to wear revealing clothes to distract you and turn you on.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

When she’s got time she loves to bake and cook for you.

Y = You (What are some things they would like in a partner?)

Someone who will trust her and love her unconditionally. Someone who is quick and witty and can keep up with her chaotic habits and conversations.

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Rio can sleep but she doesn’t need to. She often likes to watch you (and cuddle you) while you sleep.

Rio Vidal Smut Headcanon Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex?)

Depends on the sex but generally she’s cuddly and clingy, sometimes needing reassurance from you.

B = Body part (Favourite body part of their partner’s?)

Your lips and your neck.

C = Collar (Do they mark you as theirs in some way?)

No, she wouldn’t mind if you did to her though.

D = Dominant (Who is in control? Are they a top or bottom?)

The only thing stronger than Rio’s desire to submit is Rio’s desire to please. If she’s in a long term relationship with you, be prepared for her to sub at least half the time. But satisfying her switchy partner’s need to be dominated is not only something she’s willing to do but something she actually enjoys, even if only because of how much you enjoy it. Because of who she is, Rio doesn’t do anything by halves and being dominant when you ask for it is no exception. She’s very skilled but needs a lot of reassurance afterwards - yes you liked it, yes she did a good job, no she didn’t go too far etc.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She’s not super experienced. Agatha was her first. She had a few lacklustre (for her not for them) flings while Agatha had the darkhold. This is not something she has repeated after the events of Agatha All Along. However, Agatha was an excellent teacher and anything Rio lacks in experience she makes up for in enthusiasm and desire to please.

F = Fuck (Do they prefer to fuck or make love?)

Both. If she’s feeling jealous she’ll definitely prefer to fuck. Otherwise, it’s down to what you’d prefer.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?)

Rio is pretty serious. Sex is her way of expressing devotion and intimacy so she takes it seriously.

H = Hot (What turns them on, gets them going?)

Being teased, dirty talk, being dominated.

I = Insatiable (How do they act when they’re desperate to have you?)

She gets super handsy, sits on your lap, kisses your neck etc.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon?)

She doesn’t do it often, only when she’s really desperate. She likes to drag it out and get lost in her fantasies, she hopes you’ll walk in on her and help her out.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks?)

Being dominated, teasing and being teased, edging.

L = Location (Favourite places to have sex?)

At home in bed for a proper fuck. But she’ll happily go down on you or finger you just about anywhere.

M = Mood (What’s the foreplay like? How do you get them in the mood?)

You tease her, lots of kisses, light/teasing touches, dirty talk.

N = Naked (How do they undress? Do they like to watch you undress?)

She likes to watch you undress and will put on a show for you if you want. Other times it’s rushed and desperate, clothes being flung or ripped off.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill?)

She likes both equally and is very skilled at eating you out.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Both. Depends on the day and what kind of sex you’re having.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often?)

She’s not a fan of them herself. She’d rather you take your time with her. She’ll do them when really desperate though. She’s also happy to eat you out or finger you wherever and whenever you want with the promise that you’ll return the favour later.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Yeah she’s up for experimenting. Like anyone she has her limits but outside of that she will try anything you’re interested in.

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

She lasts a while, especially if you’re good at drawing it out. She’s pretty much keen to go as many rounds as you want but her preference is 2-3.

T = Tryst (Are they into casual sex or one night stands?)

Nope. She’s had a few and never found them fulfilling or satisfying. She’d rather have a long term partner.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease?)

Rio loves to tease, she gets an ego boost from having you desperate and begging.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make?)

She’s very loud/vocal. Lots of moaning, whining, cursing, and begging.

W = Wait (How long do they wait before having sex with their partner for the first time?)

Not long, once she’s made up her mind that she wants you she doesn’t see any point in delaying it. It takes her much longer to open up emotionally than it does for her to sleep with you.

X = X-ray (What’s going on under those clothes?)

When she wears underwear they’re black or green lace, matching sets.

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

It's pretty high when she’s in a relationship, she’s so desperate for her lover. When she’s single it’s not so extreme - she doesn’t seek out casual sex, she does masturbate when she needs to but it’s not often.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

As she doesn't need to sleep she prefers to just cuddle with you until you fall asleep.

[tgirlranting]

okay so i saw some of the discourse ajout Emilia Perez and wantes to see it for myself.

TL;DR: dogshit movie. masterclass in transmisogyny.

the opening song tells us this is a story about violence and love, and it delivers on that promise: in this movie, masculinity is violence; a violence which Emilia (Karla Sofía Gascón) wishes to escape through transition. the film firmly states that Emilia's wish is a doomed one. she was born violent and violence will always be a part of her.

this is an idea inherent to transmisogyny: male bodies are violent, and therefore transfem bodies are violent. "abuser-bodied" is a term used to other us and justify our exclusion from queer and women's spaces. the film Emilia Perez sets out to repackage this idea in a veneer of shitty music, crime and family drama, and toothless takes on too many social issues to count.

the film is apparently interested in many topics; drug trafficking, kidnapping, murder, corruption, sexism, ineffective justice systems, etc. it takes time out of its two hour length to mention all of these, but not to say anything about them. midway through the film, lawyer Rita (Zoe Saldana) sings a #deep song about how all these corrupt politicians are "going to pay, to pay, to pay, to pay"—the implication being that they are going to pay for their crimes—but Rita has no intention of making then do so. the reason she's in this ballroom with them is to ask for their money for her and Emilia's charity—shes not making them pay, she's asking them to. the film wants to act as if it's commenting on social issues here, even though its completely uninterested in doing so. instead of highlighting social issues, it unintentionally paints Rita as a corrupt, hollow sellout. she knows these people, knows where their money comes from, but gets into bed with them anyway. her performative rage at the system is a hollow edifice that appeals to liberal Academy voters, and no one else.

considering what the film is interested in saying, i almost prefer that approach. in a widely (deservedly) memed-on song, Rita is introduced to the world of gender-confirming surgery in a spectacle meant to elicit the macabre, the exotic amd erotic. a doctor sings "man to woman, penis to vaginaaaaaa" while Rita excitedly dances and asks for more. The doctors voice is made robotic, calling to mind cyborgs and robotic women; robotic women like Emilia is soon to become.

Rita later attempts to convince a reluctant doctor to perform those surgeries on Emilia. in a tone of profundity, she claims, "if you could only see what he's shown me."

Note the masculine pronoun. Not only does Rita continually misgender Emilia during this conversation (for which Emilia is not present), but the two of them have only had one on-screen conversation: their first meeting, in which Emilia shows Rita her boobs and says in a raspy, hyper-masculine voice, "I wish to be a woman."

So what is Rita talking about here? The only possible answer is the range of strange, wondrous surgeries she has just been informed of, or the fact that trans people exist, both of which this doctor is well aware of. I suspect the film is gesturing at some nebulous idea of the unloveable other showing us true beauty through their resilience, but frankly that is a reach. The film chooses not to say what Rita is talking about here, likely because the film itself has no idea. What we are left with in that gesturing absence is that the surgeries, the act of changing your body in a way that others find both disturbing and fascinating, is not only the sum total of trans existence, but is itself somehow meaningful; aren't the trannies brave for mutilating their bodies this way? For choosing to make themselves an artificial mockery of womanhood in order to be true to themselves? Isn't there beauty in their struggle to be recognized as something they clearly are not? It's a dismal, patronizing view of transfemininity. But before the conversation ends, a song breaks out in which Zoe Saldana, not Rita, turns to the camera and proclaims to the audience that she will always have our backs. Forgive me if I don't fall at her feet in gratitude.

the specter of Emilia's past, as a cartel boss and as a man, hangs over her constantly in a way the movie does not seek to challenge. she tries to change her ways: fake her death, become a woman through extensive surgeries, and use her money to help those affected by cartel violence. but of course, when her formee wife, Jessi, tries to move on from the husband she believes is dead, Emilia immediately sinks into her "male" voice and physically assaults her, then sends goons to beat and threaten the boyfriend's life. this results in Jessi and her boyfriend kidnapping Emilia during the climax of the film. As Jessi begins to suspect who Emilia really is, she asks "who are you?"

her reply of "Emilia," is drowned out by Jessi singing her deadname. immediately after this, we see Emilia for the last time as she is thrown in the trunk of a car, and all three of them perish in a burning wreck. Emilia cannot escape her manhood, the violence inherent in her body. everyone weep for her; what a tragic figure, the tranny.

[zenkindoflove]

So for the last two weeks I've been really contemplating my writing goals for the year. Reevaluating what makes me happy and what is intrinsically motivating. Gonna ramble a bit under the read more. But the jist is I'll be taking a fanfiction hiatus.

After I finished Let the Light Linger - I sort of had a bit of a crisis and needed to have a come to Jesus moment.

I started writing fanfiction again in October of 2023 because I was really pulled into Elucien and missed writing. Needless to say, the last year and a half I went hard. Harder than I ever have before. I wrote almost 500k words of fanfic and it was all really fun and exhilarating.

About 6 months ago though, I think a shift happened.

My desire to write canon compliant Elucien has been waning. I've done a lot of it, and told their story multiple times. And what I've realized is that ultimately I'm a lot more motivated to write Eris and Alexius or explore little weird AUs for Elucien instead like I did with Carrion Flowers.

And what that made me realize is that I'm not really interested so much in writing fanfic anymore. But rather - I'm more interested in writing original fiction (or Amanda universe fic lol). I think I keep setting up these new ideas and new WIPs distracting me because I've been nervous about going in that direction.

The fact that I want to live in my own world more - with my own OCs or my own heavily altered versions of minor characters like Eris - is really evidence that what I'm doing is not really writing fanfic anymore. But instead trying to fit my own original ideas into the fanfic medium because it's where I'm comfortable.

I think the biggest evidence was toggling between Let the Light Linger and Shackled. Shackled is doing really well in terms of popularity. Which I'm very grateful for. But I kept finding myself wanting to rush through writing chapters so I can write Let the Light Linger instead - which comparatively speaking is not popular at all. It's on par for how my Erixius fics tend to do but the audience for Eris x Male OC is small. And part of me was becoming a little resentful because I wanted my Eris x OC stuff to be as loved because I know it's excellent work.

And then I realized - you dummy. Of course people want to read your Elucien fic more. That is what an ACOTAR fanbase wants. It's what we are all here for. To explore the possibilities of the canon characters we already like. Which is something I had always known and rationalized and made peace with. But suddenly my emotions weren't fitting what I already knew. And I think that was the final push I needed to know that I am ready to write original work now.

It's time to follow what really is driving me instead of what I assume is expected of me. So, for now, my fanfic Shackled will be on hiatus. I might update it now and again if I'm feeling particularly motivated, but I really want to focus more of my time working on an original book. And probably what I'll do is take a lot of the hard work creating OCs that I've done in my Erixius fics and adapt them to this new world. Alexius especially deserves to live in his own space now. And my Eris is really an amalgamation of other characters that I've loved before that are like him. So needless to say, who I create for Alexius is going to be very similar 😂. Alexius needs a grumpy guy to his sunshine.

I certainly won't be leaving the fandom because I need this ding dong Elucien book. And I'll still be reading fanfic and replying to anyone who does go and read my works and leaves comments. And you might get surprise chapter updates or oneshots from me if I'm feeling any of that motivation. But regular updates won't be happening anymore.

[vanillarosekiss]

preacher’s daughter!reader x simon riley 📻

part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: taboo themes, unprotected sex, again this is long but it's a series so what do you expect, taking of virginity, naive innocnet! reader experienced!simon

It felt so wrong of you for wanting him like this, he was a stranger with years on you. He knew you understood why he was there, it was obvious to you now.

Your bedside lamp flickered in the cool air of the night, casting shadows across the width of your room. His fingers came up now to brush against your jaw, a rough difference to the softness of your skin. A warning sign. You caught your breath in your throat as he spoke.

"Still scared of me?" he asked, almost in amusement.

You should have been, and you were to a certain extent. But you shook your head.

"Lyin' to me already? Didn't your father teach you anything about it being a sin to lie?" his eyes darkened as he looked at you, kneeling on your bed as he stood at the edge.

His thumb traced the bottom curve of your rosy lips, pressing just enough to make you part your mouth just for him. His gaze settled deep in your stomach and made it wind tight.

"You're sheltered, but you're not stupid" he murmured to you gently.

His hand slipped lower, trailing down your throat to your exposed collarbone, the thin fabric of your nightgown doing little to protect you from his wandering hands.

"You ever been touched before?"

Your breath hitched once again lightly. He already knew the answer.

You shook your head, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as the shame of such an answer to a protruding question curdled in your belly.

Simon exhaled slowly, his hands flexing against your throat subtly.

"'Course you haven't" he muttered, more to himself than to you.

His hands left your body and started to work on his belt, and then the zipper of his trousers, making you slightly more nervous. You'd never done this before; you didn't know what to expect.

He was now only in his underwear, the outline of his stiffness undeniably making itself known of. He was big, although saying that you’d never seen anyone else’s so it was a wild guess.

He guided you carefully to the floor and onto your knees, saying that you must be fine in this position, considering your father's job. It was an unbecoming comment, yet it made you feel even more achy for him. It was all so new.

He guided your head for a while as you sucked at him hesitantly, praising you when you made him feel good and teaching you how to take him in your mouth like a ‘good girl’. He pulled you away after a short while, wanting to please you. He had a child excitement of unwrapping something new and unopened, yet the circumstances were definitely less innocent than that pretty picture.

“M’gonna be careful, ok? You don’t have to worry about anything, just let me make you feel good” he said quietly as he laid you down on your back on the middle of your bed, hands sliding up your nightgown.

He pulled down your panties, a cream coloured thong and inspected them, bemused at the idea of someone so innocent dressing so promiscuously. You blushed profusely and willed for him to just get on with it.

Fulfilling your desires, he pulled your nightgown off, leaving you completely bare to him, chastity in tact and urging him to take it. He knew you were a preacher’s daughter, but fuck did you look angelical, laid out so pretty for him.

Feeling that you were already a little wet for him made him feel good, but he wasn’t satisfied just yet. He needed you soaking to be able to take him all.

“Relax, yeah pretty girl? It’s alright, gonna go slow with you” he said, realising you were tense and probably a little bit anxious.

His hands made their way to your core, fingers dancing lightly over your untouched pearl. A sharp intake of breath came from your mouth as he put pressure on it, working you up and causing your back to arch in a pleasure you’d never known before. You could see Simon smiling slightly as he worked you up, watching how pliable and desperate you were for this.

Once he’d had enough of making you mewl for him, he pushed you backwards and positioned himself between your thighs, the sweetest sin awaiting before him. You felt a warmth that spread everywhere as he rubbed his tip against your entrance, hands coming up to cup your honeyed swells. The moans you let out once he was inside you were like a song spun from gold to Simon, the slight pain in your voice beginning to dull after he adjusted his movements into you.

“Mmm, you keep makin’ noises like that, I might just loose my will, sweeth’art” he grunted, continuing to piston into you in missionary with a steady pace.

You were so very embarrassed by how you sounded at first but it was impossible to stop making noise, feeling the most full you’d ever felt before. The pain was there… but it was subtle, and began to feel better after time as you got used to being so stretched out around Simon.

“Fucking perfect, you are. Your daddy teach you to be this sweet to strange men, or do you just have a secretly dirty little mind, hmm?”

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @siphon07 @figthoughts @mlthree @decaffeinateddelusionbread

[goticapomposa]

Casual Chappell Roan

Leitor Vi x reader

English is not my first language and i haven't written in a while, I welcome suggestions and ideas🩷

I already made the longer version because I couldn't take it

MEN NOT ALLOWED⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Is It Casual?

Zaun never sleeps, but Vi wonders if she’s the only one who can’t sleep a wink that night.

She walks through the damp streets, her heavy boots echoing in the silence of the early morning. The streetlights flicker dimly, casting shadows that lengthen and disappear into the alleys. But the only shadow that truly haunts her is reader.

It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

But the problem is that, for the reader, this has always been casual.

For Vi, never.

Ela a encontra no mesmo bar de sempre, sentada no bar, distraidamente mexendo um copo meio cheio. Seu cabelo está solto, os fios caindo abaixo da cintura, alguns fios presos atrás da orelha, revelando os brincos de prata que Vi já viu mil vezes. O delineador escuro destaca seus big eyes, que parecem absorver tudo ao redor.

Vi hesitates at the entrance.

She could just leave.

She could pretend she didn't see her, that she doesn't care, that she doesn't feel a tightness in her chest every time Reader leans back laughing, every time their fingers accidentally touch, every time Reader rests her head on her shoulder after a long night.

The memories of the feel of Reader's skin beneath her lips, how her body feels warm in Vi's hands, how her eyes follow hers as she eats her out, the sound of her sweet voice in Vi's ears, the sound of her laughter, teasing, moaning... and the sound of her voice saying Vi's name, that sparkle in her eyes when she sees Vi, is that really casual after all?

Mas Vi nunca foi boa em fugir, pelo menos de Reader...

So she goes over there.

Reader notices her presence before Vi even says anything. A smile spreads across her lips, natural, easy.

"Vi." She calls her by name as if it were something precious. As if the taste of it in her mouth was sweet. Vi hates the way this weakens her.

“What are you doing here alone, doll?” Vi asks, pulling up a stool next to her.

She shrugs, spinning her glass on the counter.

“Waiting for someone, maybe.” She answers, and Vi feels her stomach sink.

Because Reader waits for many people. There’s always someone interested in her. There’s always someone wanting her attention. And Reader, with her charming smile and mischievous gaze, always gets anyone.

Vi swallows hard.

“And who’s the lucky one this time?”

She turns her head, looking at Vi with those eyes that seem to see deeper than they should.

“Does it matter?

It shouldn’t.

But it does. It matters a lot.

She remembers that summer when you took her to visit your mother's house on the beach, just the two of you on top of the pier on the empty beach, feeling the waves of the ocean on your feet, Vi remembers the feeling of the wind on her face when she looked at you, watching the wind blow her hair while the sound of your laughter danced in the air, was it casual when you introduced me to your mother? Was it casual when you called me to complain about your sister? Was it casual when your favorite bra was on the dresser in Vi's room? Shit, was it casual?

Vi forces a smile.

— Just curious.

The reader laughs, and Vi hates the sound because it's so beautiful.

— You always act tough. — The reader comments, playing with the rim of her glass. — But I know you care.

Vi's heart stops for a second. but she laughs without joy.

— What are you talking about, doll?

She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she leans a little closer. The sweet and familiar scent invades Vi's senses, messing with her thoughts.

— If I told you that the person I'm waiting for is you... what would you do?

Vi blinks, surprised.

She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know if this is just another game. If she wants to tease her, if she's just joking.

Because Reader never wanted anything serious.

Reader never wanted anything beyond what they already had.

Vi always pretended that this was enough.

But it's not.

Not anymore.

— Doll... — Vi begins, but her voice falters.

Reader smiles. But this time, there's something in her eyes. Something that Vi can't decipher.

— You need to tell me, Vi. — Her voice is almost a whisper. — Because if you don't, I'll keep pretending I don't know.

Vi swallows hard, her heart hammering in her chest.

And then she realizes she can't run away anymore.

Because, for her, it was never casual.

It was never just a game.

She was a reader. She had always been casual.

But did the reader want Vi the same way?

Vi didn't know the answer.

And that was what scared her the most.

The bar seems too small to contain everything Vi feels. The air is heavy, stuffy, as if time had stopped the moment Reader asked that question.

Reader doesn't look away. She never looks away. It's always been like this — she stares, she challenges, she waits. But Vi... Vi never knew how to deal with this. She never knew how to deal with Reader. She always had control of herself, but with Reader it seemed like she was no longer rational.

The silence between them stretches, heavy. The noise around her no longer matters. Vi feels her heart hammering against her ribs, feels her palms sweaty, feels everything spinning around her as if the world were about to collapse.

But Reader remains there, motionless, waiting.

Vi has two options: tell the truth or run away.

Ela sempre muda de assunto. Sempre se esconde. Sempre faz piadas, finge que não sente nada. Mas se Reader realmente sabe — se ela sempre soube — então qual o sentido de continuar fingindo?

She takes a deep breath.

— I… — Vi’s voice comes out hoarse, low. She licks her lips, looks anywhere but into the reader’s eyes. But it’s no use. She feels her gaze burning against her skin. — Are you kidding me?

reader sighs.

— Vi…

Vi clenches her fists on the counter, her knuckles turning white.

— You always do this, reader. — She finally looks at her. There’s something painful in her gaze, something she can’t hide. — Always keeps me waiting. Always flirts, always pulls me closer… But it’s never real.

leitora pisca, surpresa. Vi não chama sua leitora, ela é sempre boneca, cara de boneca, anjo, querida, querida, linda… mas não leitora.

— You think I’m not real?

— I don’t think you want anything real. — Vi lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. — You like the game. You like the attention. But tomorrow, you’ll be with someone else, and I’ll be here feeling like an idiot for ever thinking you were different.

Reader is silent for a moment. Vi sees her expression change—her confidence wavering, something vulnerable flashing in her wide eyes.

“What if I told you you’re different?” Reader asks, her voice lower now, as if she’s afraid to speak.

Vi clenches her jaw.

“Don’t say that. Don’t play with me, doll.”

“I’m not playing.” Reader slides her hand across the counter and touches Vi’s fingertips, softly, hesitantly. Vi feels a shiver run up her arm. “I never knew how to tell you this. But… I always knew.”

Vi swallows hard.

“Then why didn’t you ever do anything?”

Reader smiles, but it’s a sad smile.

“Because I thought if I kept things casual, I… I couldn’t lose you.”

Vi feels the air rush out of her lungs.

She doesn’t know what to say. Because right there, in that moment, she realizes that Reader was also afraid. Afraid of ruining everything. Afraid that if she made one wrong move, she would lose Vi forever.

And maybe Vi understands that fear better than anyone.

They stand there, staring at each other, their fingers still touching, as if something invisible was holding them in that moment.

So, for the first time, Vi decides not to run away from Reader.

She intertwines her fingers with Reader's, squeezing gently.

"Then let's not keep this casual."

Reader holds her breath. Vi sees the surprise on her face, but she also sees something else. Something she's wanted to see for so long.

Reader smiles. A genuine smile, her eyes shining in the low light of the bar.

This time, there's nothing casual about it.

I hope you liked it!!!

I was thinking about making a Vi x Reader collection inspired by Chappell Roan's songs, and other songs too, what do you think? Do you have any suggestions for a next song?

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine - Chapter twenty: "Maybe I just wanna yours"

Summary: Spencer and his wife can finally put behind the whole Cat fiasco, and start living their "happily ever after"   Word count: 6.127 Warnings: The only warning I can give you right now is that this is the end.  A/N: I can't believe this is actually happening. Thank you all for reading this series, for your comments and support. You have no idea how much it means to me. I love you all!! 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter

 

(Y/N)’s point of view

I feel like shit for lying to my husband, but I had to outsmart Cat and make her believe she was in charge. The saddest part of all is that by the look in his eyes when I last saw him, he thought everything was true. Prentiss asks me to take Frank and Mikey back to the BAU while the team ambushes Cat’s sidekick. They don’t want us to bump into Cat again, so I have no chance to explain what just happened to Spencer. I must walk away from him and take our friends to the SUV.

Frank and Mikey are about to lose their mind. Their wives are waiting for us as soon as we reach the BAU and only fifteen minutes later, Alvez and Rossi show up with their missing relatives.

I stare at them as they hug and cry, feeling exactly as I didn’t expect to feel on my last day at work: defeated.

It was a win for the team. Everyone was back home safe. But none of those people should have been taken in the first place. They barely knew me, they hadn't done anything wrong. Their only fault had been being family with people related to Spencer and me. I can't help but feel guilty for what they have gone through. If it hadn't been for me, they would have never been kidnapped.

What if Cat is right?

Shit, I never thought I’d say something like that. But that psycho had made a point: people I love will never be really safe ‘cause there can always be a psycho killer out there seeking revenge. Like she had just done. And quitting the FBI wasn’t going to make any difference, she was right about that. We had been part of it for too long. Spencer and I were linked to the BAU for a lifetime, for good and worse.

- “Thank you, nugget.”- Frank’s whisper takes me from my thoughts as he hugs me.- “I’m sorry you had such a shitty last day here.”

- “Don’t apologize for anything. It was because of me that your family was hurt. I'm so sorry, Paco.”- I hide my face in his neck, feeling how my friend hugs me tighter.

- “Don’t be stupid.”- his words aren’t harsh, but he isn’t sugarcoating any thought.- “This wasn’t your fault. Cat Adams is fucking crazy. That’s it.”

- “No, Frank. I could have…”- I find it hard to, so I shut up and feel Frank’s arms tighten around me as he whispers.

- “It wasn’t your fault. She is mental.”- I shake my head and sigh. But before I feel any better, my friend announces Spencer is finally here.

And I don't think I am ready to face my husband. How can I explain to him what just happened? There is so much going on. I feel guilty, tired, and defeated after my last day working with the FBI. But I can not leave him there, thinking I am mad at him.

I turn around to meet his eyes and realize Mikey has moved faster than me. He is already hugging my husband, probably thanking him for saving his family. Mikey's father-in-law shakes Spencer's hand and I just stand here, not knowing how to start to explain what happened today. I know he probably feels worse than I do, and I can not let him think he did anything wrong.

Spencer also looks tired and defeated as he stands on the other side of the room. I have no doubt we both feel pretty similar after the day we had. I let Frank go and stare at my husband. Poor Spencer. He deserved a better goodbye from the BAU. This was not the plan I had for him in my head. I wanted him to leave with his head up high, with a grin on his face, and with a hug from his friends.

When I think of all the terrible things my husband had to go through while he worked here, my heart aches. As soon as I met him, so many years ago, unconsciously I made it my life purpose to keep him from danger and harm and be a friend, a confidant, and his support. I remember being shocked by his sweetness and how he was always so willing to help anyone who needed a hand. He is the best person I've ever met, and the FBI has been nothing but cruel to him.

I think about Gideon and Hotch abandoning him without a proper goodbye. How they also ignored Spencer's struggle to quit Dilaudil, doing absolutely nothing to help him until I stepped up. There's also Emily's fake death, all the unsubs that messed with his mind, like Cat did, the headaches, all the times he got shot and hurt, and everything he went through with his mom. I know I'm not perfect, but I've been with him through all the pain and sorrow this work has caused him. I don't want to imagine how it would have been if I hadn't been there for him. How would he have dealt with everything?

That is why I can not leave him alone right now. No now, not never.

When he sees me from the other side of the room, Spencer stops walking and locks eyes with me. I bite my lips not to cry and just wave. He sighs and stares at me with so much regret and angst, that I can’t take it any longer. I move quickly between the desks and all the people in the room until I am standing before my husband, wrapping my arms around him.

- “I’m so sorry, chipmunk.”- he says as soon as he holds me. His arms feel locked around me so tightly no one could even try to let me go.

- “No, I am so sorry Spencer.”- I mumble against his shirt, where I hide my face. My favorite place to be is against his chest. I feel him chuckling sadly and moving apart so he can look at my face.

- “You have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one who should apologize. Even before that door opened I knew I had failed you. You having to witness it all was just the perfect way Cat had to make sure I would lose everything I love.”

- "Spencer..."- he just cuts my words. His eyes are so concerned, frowning as he stares at me, I can't form another word as I listen to his speech.

- "I shouldn't have kissed her. I'm so sorry, ma cheriè."

- “We need to debrief.”- Prentiss announces as she stands by our side, touching Spencer’s back carefully. He looks at me and I smile, kissing his cheek to try to show him everything is more than ok between us. His puzzled look lets me know he is absolutely lost.

- “What is this?”- he asks as soon as he realizes Frank and Mikey, along with their extended families, stand with us for the debriefing. My poor husband is so shocked he still won't understand there was a plan behind everything that just happened. Of course, I stand by his side, holding his hand tight, trying to assure him everything is ok.

- “We had to think fast.”- Lewis starts explaining, and Luke smiles as he adds.

- “But, we pulled it off.”

- “Pulled what off?”- Spencer asks and turns to me, frowning.

- “Outsmarting Cat, once and for all.”- I reply and kiss his hand- “I’m sorry we had to keep you in the dark about a lot of it, but we knew she would read you in a second.”

Spencer opens his mouth to speak, but no word comes out of it for a few seconds. Simmons, Rossi, and the rest of the team gather around us, along with Frank, Mikey, and their families.

- “When did it all start?”- Spencer asks me, but I just smile as our unit chief starts explaining.

- “It started when your date started.”- Emily clarifies. - “(Y/N) realized Cat had kidnapped your friend’s family and that made it obvious she was doing all this only to hurt you for leaving the team and moving on with your life when hers is about to end.”

- “And when I called Mikey to ask him and Frank to come here, he told me he got a text telling him to go to our old apartment.”- I add and Mikey nods to support my statement.

- “That was just when Cat said she wanted to see your old apartment, which was too much to be a coincidence.”- Matt comments. Spencer frowns and turns to me, still confused, so I nod.

- “The team barely had time to get there and brief your friends before you did.”- Rossi chuckles and looks at Frank.- “You did great kid.”

- “Well, all the anger was real."- Paco replies with a silly grin. I can't believe we can end this day with such a light note.- "After everything we knew that bitch has done to our friends, we were not gonna let her have this one. How can you deal with a maniac like her?”

- “Would you believe me if I tell you we’ve met worse?”- I reply as he stares at me, horrified.

- "Worst than that, Nugget? I don't think so"

- “So we got to your apartment moments before you and Alvez got there.”- Penny resumes the story and we all look at her.- “We gave your friends and your lovely wife earpieces to keep track of everything going on in the room.”

- “We were in communication with the three of them the whole time they were there, so we could feed them what they had to say.”- Emily adds, explaining part of our plan.

- “They are not trained for that!”- but of course, Spencer freaks out, shocked.- “I mean, they had (Y/N) there to help, but it was too risky.”

- “I know, that was my main concern.”- Tara looks at my husband and tries to calm him a little bit because it's obvious he is still hyper-alert, even if we are trying to explain what happened.

- "I wasn't gonna let anyone hurt our friends."- I whisper and squeeze his hand, as Lewis nods and continues explaining.

- “So we needed a strategy. We knew Cat was all about abusive men, so what if (Y/N)’s friendship was already tainted and you were in the dark about it all? We needed them to play along, and you to be honestly surprised when you heard the story.”

- "You... came up with that?"- Spence asks in shock, and I nod.

- "Sort of, actually. We had to... improvise a lot."- I explain and Prentiss adds.

- “That was the tricky part. We had to ask them to improvise and we had no idea what they were gonna come up with.”- Emily continues talking and Spencer looks at Mikey waiting for an explanation, mouth hanging open, incredulity. - “They had to pretend, Spencer, it was either faking anger or faking tears.”

- “I guess they didn’t have to try too hard. Right now I am disgusted with myself.”- my husband whispers and looks down at his feet, ashamed.

- “Let me help you with that part.”- Pen says.- “Cat said to check the medical record, and I did. She had a miscarriage, but it was months later and it had nothing to do with you. That was another lie she said to make you feel terrible and throw you, so I told the guys and the rest of the team this information.”

I look at my husband's face and see how relief washes over his features. Spencer's eyes shine as he corroborates he didn't cause Cat's miscarriage. I keep holding his hand and nod when he looks at me, probably searching for confirmation.

- “What we didn’t expect was what Mikey did next.”- Luke comments and Mikey’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment as his wife holds his hand.

- “I saw a chance and I took it. I just couldn’t let that woman win. No one makes Nugget cry and gets away with it. Not even a psycho killer like her.”

I blush as soon as I hear his words. I have never been fond of feeling people around me are trying to protect me, I like to protect the ones I love. But knowing my friends were there with me on the hardest day of my active service as an FBI agent, and they were willing to help and protect me the way I wanted to protect them, made me feel loved.

Shit, I think I'm getting old.

- “So your brother is not in jail?”- Spencer asks, confused, absolutely lost in the conversation and probably feeling hope for the first time in hours.

- “Nah, he lives in California with his wife and daughter.”- Mikey replies shyly.

- “And I never dated him either.”- I add and hear Frank chuckling immediately.

- “You just had a massive crush on him when we were young.”- of course, that little worm had to bring that up in front of the whole team, my most embarrassing teen memory.

- “We were eleven, Frank!”- I argue, mortified.- “Can we never talk about this again?”

- “And to miss the fulfilling experience of embarrassing you in front of everybody on your last day working here? Never!”- Frank grins and I punch his arm.

- “And you never told me this before? In... fifteen years?”- Spencer asks frowning, but his lips curl in a little smile, letting me know he is not mad, he is glad to know things are not as bad as he thought they were.

- “Don’t be mad with them”- Emily begs- “They had to do what it took to save their families.”

- “How did you know that was going to work?”- my husband asks me- “You could have made up any other story.”

- “I know how Cat thinks. She only sees the world one way, that everyone is going to hurt everyone. So I played that card, and it worked. Besides, Mikey and Frank did it great.”

I smile and squeeze Spencer’s hand, trying to reassure him that everything is fine, that no one is mad at him, and that nothing that happened today hurt us.

- "I can't believe it."- he whispers and looks at me with a soft smile.- "You totally fooled me."

- "I totally did."- I reply with a smile. Frank’s father-in-law, Charlie, walks toward Spencer and shakes his hand that minute.

- “It's very nice to meet you. Thank you for everything you and the team did for us.”

- “I am so sorry Cat put you through hell.”- Spencer replies, with honest concern in his voice.

- “It’s not your fault. She was clearly mental.”- Charlie adds and looks at Frank and Tarah.- “My daughter has been talking about you too since she met Frank, I’m glad to finally put a face to all the stories about the Doctors.”

- “That’s our nickname? The Doctors?”- I question Tarah raising an eyebrow, and she just grins, holding Frank’s hand.

- “You watch Doctor Who and have PhDs. What did you expect us to call you? The Carpenters?”- she replies, making me and Spencer laugh immediately. Frank chuckles and kisses her cheek, proud of her answer. I smile and shake my head. Those two are perfect together, two peas in a pod.

- “Thank you for saving my sister!”.- Mikey’s wife hugs me and smiles at Spencer.- “I can understand why you wanna leave this place, but what you do here gives people hope. You and your team are heroes, I’m glad we got to see you work.”

I really don’t know how to reply to that comment because it’s mainly what I don’t wanna deal with right now. I do the polite thing: I nod and smile and then look at my husband, who is staring at me.

- “I’m sorry we tricked you.”- I whisper and his lips curl up into a shy smile.

- “Don’t be sorry. It feels…”

- “Angsty?”- I interrupt him and he just shakes his head.

- “Not it's surprising to know my wife can lie to me this well after so many years together.”- he confesses and chuckles.- "You are making me feel so naive and easy to fool!"

- “Actually, there’s a study conducted by the Ad Council Research Program that confirms that 72% of Americans trust the most on their spouse, which means you are bound to trust me, Spencer Walter Reid.”

- “Look at you, dropping statistics.”- he teases and moves a step closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.- "You know what happens to me when my wife drops statistics."

- “Hey, Doctors, we are still here, so please don’t make out in front of us.”- Tarah taps her hand on Spencer's back and stops us on time before we start making out. Can you blame me? I am crazy in love with this man. And I can't wait until we start living the rest of our lives together.

- “ Sorry…”- I blush and move away from my husband.- “Maybe we should get ready to go home, it was a long last day.”

- “Yes, we should.”- Spencer agrees with me and holds my hand immediately.

I look around the room and somehow it hits me. We are leaving now, for real.

- “Anything we might help you with?”- Frank asks and I just nod.

- “A few boxes with books from Spencer’s desk and some pictures from mine, and that’s it.”

Why does this feel so natural?

- “Great, we’ll grab those while you say goodbye to your friends.”- Spencer’s hold in my hand feels tighter all of a sudden. Probably because Frank’s words made our departure real and imminent. It’s happening right now.

I look at Penelope, and tears are already in her eyes. I walk to her and wrap my arms around her, trying to hold myself together.

- “This bullpen will never feel complete again without you two here.”- she whispers. The knot in my throat is tighter every second, and I am afraid if I speak, I’ll start crying.- “But don’t think for a second you are gonna get rid of me.”

- “Never.”- I manage to reply as Garcia kisses my cheek and looks into my eyes.

- “I’ll be at your house this Saturday to help you with your scrapbook, ok? I have all my tools ready.”- I nod and wipe off the tears from my cheeks. Rossi opens his arms and hugs me next.

- “And I will see you this Friday for dinner at my place.”

- “Yes Coronel Canelloni.”- I mumble and feel his body shaking with laughter.

- “I liked Papa Pasta better.”- I chuckle and hug tighter.

- “Thank you for everything.”

- “You are welcome tesorina. Now go and live your happily ever after, capito?”- I chuckle and nod. Alvez, Matt, and Tara hug me next, all of them wishing us the best in our next chapter in life.

It isn’t until JJ walks toward me that I freeze. I don’t think I’m in the mood to fight with her or even just pretend I don’t hate her. I need to get this over with.

- “I know we are not on the best terms, but we were best friends for many years here, and I hope you know I am going to miss you very much.”

Her words just hang in the air for a few seconds, as I stare at her. I'm too tired, too hungry, and too old to do this one more time. I just wanna go home.

- “Thank you.”- I have many snarky comebacks to her words, but I bit my tongue. JJ hugs me and barely I tap on her back. This is the best I can do after what happened. I don’t wanna hold grudges but I can’t lie to myself. I am never going to forgive JJ, and that's the truth.

Emily is hugging Spencer, and both of them are already in tears. Someone pokes my shoulder as I wait for my turn, and when I turn around I find Anderson standing next to me.

- “Sonny.”

- “Reid, you didn’t think you were gonna leave without saying a proper goodbye to me, right?

- “Never, I was saving the best for last.”- I wrap my arms around Grant as he does the same, whispering.

- “By the way, you never gave me credit for getting you and Spencer together all those years ago.”

- “What do you mean?”- I look at him, frowning and he just chuckles.

- “If I hadn’t introduced you to James, probably none of this would have happened. You were in denial about your feelings for him until he was crazy jealous.”- I laugh shaking my head and then I hug him one more time.

- “You are right, Anderson. Thank you for everything.”

- “You are welcome. I’m gonna miss you very much, who is gonna be my partner in karaoke night?”

- “I think Penelope can manage my parts, give her a chance.”

Anderson chuckles and I smile at him, grateful to leave like this, holding all the friends I’ve made during all the years I spent at the BAU. And most of all, I am glad Spencer gets to do the same. He gets to enjoy all the life lasting bounds created and take with him all the good times and the love from his BAU family.

- “(Y/N).”- Prentiss takes me from my thoughts and opens her arms, hugging me immediately.- “This is not goodbye.”

- “I know.”- I reply, enjoying her embrace, and fighting the tears immediately.

- “But I am gonna miss you around here.”- she manages to add, and her voice cracks. If she starts crying, I don't think I will be able to stop, so I better say something funny or snarky to defuse our emotional moment quickly.

- “Who else will drive you crazy?”- I ask her with a playful smile, and my dearest friend chuckles right away.

- “Luke and Garcia have been working on it lately.”- her answer is fast and it makes me smile right away. I lean over and whisper in her ear.

- “They are gonna end up angry fucking in the janitor's closet one day, I can see it coming.”- Prentiss laughs and nods right away.

- “I’ll keep you posted about that.”

Spencer finishes his conversation with JJ - I don’t even wanna think what she was telling him - and holds my hand when we say goodbye to the team. His eyes are red, but his lips are curled into a smile. He is happy, and that gives my heart joy. From now on I'll make it my life mission to make my husband happy every day. This man has given me everything I ever dreamed of. I can't give him less than that.

Spencer’s point of view

- “I’m sure this will be the last time we get a chance to talk.-” JJ says when she walks toward me and hugs me.- “I just… didn’t want you to leave after all these years with things feeling so uncomfortable.”

- “Don’t worry, JJ."- I give her a small hug and move apart from her quickly. I'm trying not to be cold, but I really don't wanna give her any wrong idea.

- "I'm really gonna miss you."- she whispers and stares at her feet for a moment before adding.- "Both of you."

- "Thank you for everything. All the support and all the moments we shared. you were an amazing friend. And we both love you, Will, and the boys very much."- I smile at her and turn to my wife. She is having some emotional conversation with Emily and the two of them are fighting the tears. (Y/N) looks at me and I hold her hand. It's time to leave. And I just can't wait.

I always thought this moment would be painful and filled with sorrow. But I'm just anxious to start the rest of my life. It¡'s the end of a chapter, but the start of something better. My life with my wife and our babies.

- "How many books did you need at work? A hundred?"- Frank asks as he holds one of the boxes left on my desk, and I just smile at him as I grab the other box in silence. After all, I think it was a blessing having him and Mikey here today. I am sorry they were dragged into Cat's madness, but I'm glad (Y/N) has her family close as we say goodbye to our other family.

We wave to the team one last time from the elevator and as the door closes, we just sigh. Mikey and his family start talking about getting dinner, but we just wanna go home. So we say goodbye in the parking lot and promise our friends a visit in the following days. They should rest anyway, their close ones had one hell of a day nad I don't think anyone really wants to go out to eat.

When we are alone, we get in our car and drive to our house. We get pizza for dinner, because we feel like it, and let the kids decide the movie we are gonna watch.

It looks like any random day from the outside. But we both know how special it felt to pick our babies from Sofia's knowing it's the last time we were leaving them for a case.

I just wanna be able to watch my babies grow. I trust the team will keep us safe, and from now on i just have to worry about being a good dad for my babies, and a good husband for my wife.

As soon as we get home, Raven convinces her brother to watch "The Beauty and the Beast" first and then "Lilo and Stitch", which might have been a master move from our daughter, considering we all know Vinny might fall asleep soon.

But he doesn’t. He is forcing himself to stay awake eating popcorn and drawing as we gather on the couch and he takes over the coffee table with all his coloring books.

- “Here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three”- Raven and (Y/N) sing as a beautiful chorus along with the movie. I look at them with a big smile and my wife winks at me. I remember back in the days when she used to sing love songs in the car before we confessed our feelings for each other and I dreamed they were for me. I never even dared to think I was actually right, and now here she is, singing along with our daughter.

- “Is that how you felt when you met Daddy, Mom?”- Raven asks seriously. - “Did you know you loved him right away, mommy?”

For a few seconds, I don’t even move. Raven looks at (Y/N) with her big brown eyes, expecting an answer. Why is our four-year-old asking about love already? Why was she growing up so fast?

- “When I met your dad, I didn’t know he was my prince charming for a long time, birdy.”- (Y/N) confesses and looks at me, blushing.

- “Like Belle and the Beast?”- Raven continues asking. Once she starts, she never stops.

- “Yes, but your dad was never a beast. He was always a charming prince.”

- “Did he have a beard and long hair?”- I’m guessing Raven is trying to picture me in any way close to the Beast.

- “No, but he grew a lovely five o'clock shadow during a week he got sick and I took care of him many, many years ago.”- it might be silly to blush over that confession, but I remember when (Y/N) helped me des intoxicate from Diaudil, and she mentioned my silly beard looked cute. It still shocks me to know she loved me back then the same way I loved her.

- “And how did you know you loved him?”- I try not to chuckle at her persistence.

- “Yes, ma cherie, please tell us. How did you know? And when did you find out you loved me?- I tease her, ‘cause I love teasing my wife and watching her blushing.

- “It was little things at first. Like how happy I felt when I saw him, and how I wanted to be with him all the time.”- (Y/N) replies and I hold her hand on the couch. Talking about that, with our kids, at our house, it really feels like a fairy tale.

- “I feel like that about Daddy too.”- Raven says and quickly jumps onto my lap and hugs me. I wrap my arms around her as well, kissing her cheeks several times.

- “Because you love me too. And I love you immensely”- I explain to our daughter as she giggles.

- “I wanna love someone and get married.”- Raven murmurs and squirms from my lap to continue watching her favorite movie.

- “Trust me, when that happens we are gonna be there to support you no matter what.”- I kiss the top of her head and (Y/N) holds my hand again.

Nothing on earth will ever be more important than this, the little moments we share with our kids, and all the moments we are gonna share from now on. No more traveling. I don’t want to look and see that my entire life had passed me by while I was chasing monsters. I hope this means that will never happen.

Two hours later, we are watching “Lilo and Stitch”, eating popcorn as the kids slowly doze off. The floor is filled with toys and art supplies they were using before cuddling with us on the couch. (Y/N) is holding Vinny and Matilda at the same time, while Raven is on my lap, almost snoring.

- “Upstairs.”- (Y/N) moutheres and somehow manages to take Vinny and Tilly on each arm. I hold Raven tight and we walk upstairs quietly. There’s something different about this simple action. Something that feels even more homy about our place. Probably because we know we are gonna be here, doing the exact same thing tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that…

I put Raven on her bed and kiss her forehead. She hugs the old unicorn Mikey gave her when she was a baby, she still can’t sleep without it, and I walk to help (Y/N) with the other two kids.

Tilly is in her crib, fast asleep, but Vinny is awake and chatty, sitting on his bed, refusing to close his eyes.

- “But why do I have to sleep if I’m not sleepy?”- he argues as (Y/N) tucks him in and holds a book.

- “Because you need to sleep so tomorrow you are fully rested for everything we are gonna do”

- “Are we going to spend the day with Nana while you work?”- he questions and it hurts to think that’s the reference he has of his days.

- “No baby, we are spending the day with you and your sisters.”

- “And who is gonna catch the bad guys?”

- “The rest of the team: Aunty Penny with Aunty Em and Aunty Tara, Uncle Luke, Uncle Matt, and Papa Pasta.”

I notice (Y/N) doesn’t mention JJ, and I am ok with that. Now that we are no longer on the team, our friendship with her will no longer be an item. It’s the one thing we lost, other than time, overstaying with the BAU.

- “And you won’t help?”- Vincent whispers, fighting to stay awake.

- “Your dad and I are not gonna help them anymore.”- (Y/N) replies in a hushed voice, as she plays with his hair and he slowly starts closing his eyes.

- “Never?”- Vincent’s voice is a tiny whisper filled with surprise and joy.

- “Never.”

- “And what are you gonna do now?”

- “Your dad and I are gonna take you to school every day, and pick you up every afternoon, and then we’ll come home and help you with homework, make dinner, we’ll go to the park, we’ll play pirates, and draw all the pictures you can imagine. We are gonna bake cupcakes and cookies with your sisters, and we’ll watch a movie every together Friday.”

There’s a long pause after (Y/N) stops enumerating things to do and when I walk to the edge of the bed, I find that Vinny is fast asleep already, and (Y/N) keeps caressing his hair tenderly. I rest a hand on her shoulder and she turns to me with watery eyes and a big warm smile. I lean and kiss Vinny’s forehead as my wife stands up from his bed and walks with me to our room.

- “You know, according to the quantum theory proposed by Hugh Everett, every quantum event creates a branching of universes, leading to a vast array of parallel realities.”- (Y/N) says as she puts on her pajama. I stay still and turn to her. I know I'm basically drooling over my wife, but I just can't help it. I'm already half-hard with that sentence alone.- “What?”- she asks, confused.

- “Do you know what happens to me when you start rambling about science?”- I ask her in a low voice, and she just giggles.

- “I know I get pregnant when I talk about facts like these.”

- “Yes, you do.”- I smile at her like a goof and she shakes her head.

- “But I have a point.”

- “Surprise me, ma cherie.”- (Y/N) finishes putting on her pajamas and sits on the bed, hugging a pillow.

- “If Everett was right and there are different branches with different universes and versions of our reality, there might be an alternative universe where we never met each other.”

- “I wish there wasn’t. That would be very sad.”- I mumble as I stare at her. Life without her is the kind of reality I don't want to picture. Not in this life, or in any alternative universe. I wish everything I ever do in life leads to sweet moments like this.

- “Yes. But if you think about it if I hadn’t joined the team… Do you think our paths would have ever crossed?”

I stare at her. She is putting some night cream on her face, waiting for my reply. And though I wish I could tell her I’m sure this was the only outcome of our lives, she might be right. We are lucky our paths crossed at the BAU.

- “I don’t even wanna picture a universe without this. Our family, you… this is the most important thing to me. Any other outcome of my life would have been a waste.”- I confess and move closer to her, sitting by her side and holding her hand.

- “If I hadn’t joined the team, where do you think we could have met?”

- “At a coffee house.”- I reply no questions asked. - “We would both be regulars and the waitress would have played matchmaker.”

- “That if the waitress didn’t try to catch your eye first.”- my wife jokes, and I frown immediately.

- “I’m picturing a blond sixty-year-old lady with a perm.”- (Y/N) laughs at my answer and I hold her hand and kiss it.- “I think I would have loved you in every universe, ma cheriè.”

- “Me too. Do you think there is an alternative reality where we never confessed our feelings and were friends forever?”

- “Sounds like a nightmare… a very real and possible nightmare.”- I chuckle and wrap my arms around her, sitting her on my lap. - “In that universe, Emily kills us by the way.”

- “Yes, I agree.”- (Y/N) chuckles and then hides her face against my neck, sighing. - “This is the only universe I wanna live in, honey.”

- “Me too. Any universe with you would be perfect, but this is the ultimate universe for me.”- I kiss her lips and she smiles. We stay quiet for a few seconds, just smiling at each other, until she announces.

- “And starting tomorrow we are gonna have a brand new life.”

- “Are you scared?”- I whisper and she shakes her head right away.

- “No, I’m excited about our fresh start.”

- “Me too. I’m not worried about what might come, as long as I have you by my side, ma cheriè, I can deal with anything.”

- “I feel the same, honey.” 

[makeila04]

I just finished the Cold War campaign… again… it’s… difficult… that bittersweet ending… How does Adler go from telling you, "We don’t wait for the best to happen, we make the best happen," to saying in the next scene, "Nothing personal," and shooting Bell?

I had been preparing myself for that ending from the very beginning. I already knew it, I knew the story from front to back and vice versa, but… I can never shake off that bitter and grayish taste it leaves in my mouth…

I don’t know, but my mind automatically jumped to Black Ops 6, set in 1991, ten years after Cold War.

He’s still there after Cold War, in 1991, after the disaster in Panama in 1989, after Hudson’s death that same year, after Bell’s death in 1981… after all that, even so… he keeps moving forward.

I can’t help but think that Bell’s death was somewhat in vain. I mean, yeah, it only made sense for Adler to kill him because he regained his memories, realized the deception, and Bell was a danger if left alive. But on the other hand, the other half of why Bell’s death was in vain is because he was used to get to Perseus.

And… Russell Adler had been chasing Perseus since Vietnam. By 1981, 13 years had passed, all for… us to later find out through Warzone that Adler never managed to catch or kill Perseus because… he had already died a few years prior—either in 1982 or 1983. Adler found out about this in 1984 or 1985 when Stitch told him, right before Adler killed him—probably out of rage or because he was the only thing left even remotely connected to Perseus.

I just wonder… How did he cope with all of that by 1991, when he was 54 years old? A whole decade had passed since Cold War…

And… I don’t want to say it, but… it was… pretty much in vain.

Not the events themselves, because in the middle of it all, multiple global catastrophes were prevented—like everything that happens in the Call of Duty: Cold War campaign—but… the ultimate goal Adler pursued, which was to kill Perseus… never happened.

On top of that, in the mid-'80s, as shown in Warzone, Adler was captured and subjected to MK-Ultra, committing a series of bombings and attacks to frame both him and the CIA, like in Verdansk—when he wasn’t even conscious. Even though Mason, Woods, and Hudson rescued him—probably in 1985—and Mason managed to remove the numbers, the brainwashing, and everything else…

Adler still seems ashamed and regretful for everything he did, even though his friends reassure him that it wasn’t really him and that he wasn’t in his right mind. But again, all of this happened because of his pursuit of Perseus—something that, in the end… never came to fruition.

And to top it all off… Adler, facing Stitch, understands that the one he was chasing was a man but that Perseus was always an idea and he doesn't understand it until it's too late…

I kind of feel bad for Adler in that sense, because I know what it’s like to dedicate so many years of your life to something, only for it to not work out or lead nowhere… but… life doesn’t come with guarantees.

If anything, Adler doesn’t seem too bad in 1991 at 54 years old. Aside from the comments he makes referencing Bell or Hudson in Zombies mode… but it seems like he already has too many personal crises due to his age to keep adding fuel to the fire…

______________________________________________________________

Acabo de terminar la campaña de cold war, otra vez…es…difícil…ese final tan agridulce… como pasa Adler de decirte "no esperamos a que lo mejor suceda, hacemos que lo mejor suceda" a decirte en la siguiente escena "nada de esto fue personal" y disparar a Bell.

Me vine preparando desde el primer momento para ese final. Ya lo conocía, ya sabía la historia de adelante hacía atrás y viceversa pero…jamás me puedo quitar ese sabor amargo y…grisáceo que me deja en la boca…

No sé, pero automáticamente mi mente saltó a black ops 6 ambientada en 1991, 10 años después de cold war.

Aun él después de cold war, ambientado en 1991, después del desastre de Panamá en 1989, después de la muerte de Hudson en ese año, la muerte de Bell en 1981, después de todo eso, aún así… él sigue adelante...

No puedo evitar pensar en que fue bastante en vano la muerte de Bell, o sea si, solo tuvo sentido que Adler lo matara porque recobro sus recuerdos y se dio cuenta del engaño y era un peligro que este suelto por ahí. Pero por el otro lado, la otra mitad de por qué fue en vano la muerte de Bell es porque lo utilizaron para llegar hasta Perseus.

Y… Russell Adler venía persiguiendo a Persues desde Vietnam, hasta 1981 pasaron 13 años, todo para que… luego, por medio de Warzone, nos enteremos de que Adler jamás pudo atrapar o matar a Perseus porque…él ya había muerto hace un par de años, creo que en 1982 o 1982 y Adler se entera de esto en 1984 o 1985 por medio de Stich quien se lo dice antes de que Adler lo mate, supongo que por rabia o porque era lo único que le quedaba más o menos relacionado a Perseus.

Solo me pregunto…¿Cómo sobrellevó todo eso para 1991 cuando tiene 54 años? Pasó 1 década desde cold war…

Y…no quiero decirlo pero…fue…bastante en vano. Y para rematar... Adler, frente a Stich, entiende que a quien perseguía era un hombre pero que Perseus siempre fue una idea y no lo entiende hasta que es demasiado tarde...

No el hecho en si porque en medio se evitaron varias catástrofes mundiales, como todo lo que sucede en la campaña de call of duty cold war, pero…el fin al que recurría Adler que era matar a Perseus…nunca se concretó…

Sumado a que en medio, en mitad de los 80s, como se ve en warzone, capturan a Adler y lo someten al MK-ultra cometiendo un par de atentados y desastres con bombas para inculcarlo a él y a la cia como en Verdansk, cuando él no estaba consciente. Aun cuando Mason, Woods y Hudson lo rescatan, creo en 1985, y Mason le logra quitar los números, el lavado de cerebro, y demás.

Aún se lo ve avergonzado y arrepentido a Adler de todo lo que hizo en medio aunque sus amigos lo consuelan de que no era él mismo ni estaba en sus cabales. Pero repito, todo esto fue a causa de perseguir a Perseus, cosa que al final…jamás se concretó…

Me da algo de pena Adler en ese sentido, porque sé lo que es dedicarle tantos años de tu vida a algo para que al final…no funcione o no llegue a nada… pero…en la vida no hay garantías…

Si acaso, a Adler no se lo ve tan mal en 1991 con 54 años. Más allá de los comentarios que hace en referencia a Bell o Hudson en el modo zombies… pero parece que ya tiene demasiadas crisis personales por su edad como para seguir echándole leña al fuego…