#immediately thought it would be silly to draw this

[journey-of-daydreams]

How would you think Rewrite would feel after the reader were the one to finally initiate affection for once? As stated previously by you, Rewrite is very affectionate during their 3 Ring stage, and we didn't see much of Reader seeking them out as much to have their attention. What if for once, Reader was the one to actively seek out Rewrite just for physical touch? Like a hug or imagine this. A headbutt. Gentle or not, he'd be confused but still appreciative because of the attention still, lmao.

do you think because of the headbutt and if it were aggressive (not hateful!!), rewrite would take that as a sign to headbutt the reader even harder but tenfold??? AGHHH i love him, they're so silly!!!!!

this inspired me to write about this thank u

i haven't thought of scenarios for how the reader reacts to rewrite's affections (whether reader reciprocate it or not), because i think that really depends on the person. so let's think of a reader who reciprocates.

───{��⭕⭕}───

Rewrite's behavior towards a Reader that shows them affection and goes to them for it.

Type: Scenarios Genre: Fluff Content Warnings: Horror and psychological abuse mention; Scenarios tagged accordingly Stage: 3 Ring (mostly)

[Link to Rewrite & Reader Masterpost]

───{⭕⭕⭕}───

* Their reaction towards you showing them affection for the first time depends entirely on what stage they're currently in:     -> Option 1 [⭕] (Late 1 Ring) : If you started doing this in their 1 ring stage, Rewrite's reaction is very subdued and less intense... But their behavior in this stage would change. They would go along with it. Instead of being subtle and only saying they "like" the Reader, they would mimic any affection you show towards them. Because they mimic your affection, it becomes even harder to tell if they're genuine, or just doing this to draw you in further.          ↳ It also becomes even harder to tell when it starts escalating. The shift where they go from "Haha I'm gonna ruin your day!!" to "I like you." is very subtle, so having them constantly being affectionate by default makes it impossible to judge what they're really thinking and feeling.          ↳ While they don't have the full self-awareness to understand why they like the attention... They know they like it. They would be disappointed if you ever stopped showing them affection for whatever reason.     -> Option 2 [⭕⭕⭕] (3 Ring) : In their 3 ring stage, Rewrite's reaction is completely different. They would be absolutely ecstatic the very first time you ever show reciprocation for their affections. At this point, they would be pretty clear about their affinity for you, so having you reciprocate in any way is a big deal. They'd celebrate on the spot.          ↳ You actually want to be around them? They show excitement and eagerness to immediately drag you into a game or somewhere to hang out. If they were doing something else, they drop everything to put all of your attention onto you.          ↳ You felt sad and sought them out for comfort? Their happiness at this is really jarring and concerning at first, until you realize it's because you sought them out like a friend would.          ↳ Hug them for the first time? They dramatically pick you up and spin you around.

* Anon. Anonnnn you also got me thinking, if the first gesture of affection/fondness Reader ever showed was a headbutt... Rewrite wouldn't know what that means. Headbutts are meant to hurt others, so why was that one gentle? Why do you seem so calm? Was that a failed attack against them?? Are you showing them an uncommon sign of fondness?? But they've never seen that in humans...     -> They completely fail to understand your intentions and they hate it. They need to feel in control of this situation, and not being able to judge what you meant by that? Not being able to tell how you feel about them? They'd be very. Very. VERY unsettled by the loss of control.     -> You would have no way of knowing any of this. They would not tell you. You'd have no idea how much that gesture fucked with them. At most, their flattery towards you would ramp up in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

* They will not reject or judge any form of affection. In fact, any affection you show them adds further fuel to their own methods of showing affection. They will mimic and return anything you show them. It doesn't matter how niche or "weird" you might think it is; If they realize it's a way you show affection, they will return it.     -> Giving them cool shiny rocks? Biting them affectionately? Writing them poems? Just smiling at them fondly? Purring at them? Yes to all of those. They don't judge.     -> Headbutting them in particular like Anon said: Yes. Yes they would take that as a sign to headbutt Reader back. Rewrite would match the gentleness of it, yes, but if you do that and they saw you aggressively headbutt someone once, just one single time... They will get "affectionate headbutt" and "aggressive headbutt" confused and think you like being aggressively headbutted.

* Because of how egotistical they are, they absolutely adore when you flatter them or give them verbal affection. This is their favorite form of affection to be given. Flattery gets you everywhere with them.     -> In particular, treating them like a god or referring to them as God is a really quick way to get on their good side.

* If you're a naturally affectionate person and show other people affection as well, they will get jealous and upset. How dare you show your affections to someone unworthy? Only they should be allowed to see that side of you!     -> 私は完璧なんだよ、分かるでしょ？     -> 私あなたにとって十分じゃないの？      -> 私のこと、忘れさせない。

* If you enjoy playfighting in particular: You've just unleashed a terrible beast. Rewrite gets really creative with their play attacks, and are very good at ambushes and trickery. They will also utilize their control of the game environment. They'll let you win, but only sometimes.     -> Swordfighting with sticks? They'll throw theirs at you. Trip you with it. Whack you with a levitating stick. Gently poke you from behind when you least expect it.     -> Pushing each other into lakes? They'll drag you down with them. Turn the ground underneath you into water as you're walking. Graciously pick you up, oh so kindly giving you a ride, only to drop you into a lake.     -> Tackling each other for fun? They will fly at you from behind. Drop onto you from the sky. Suddenly emerge out of the ground. Nowhere is safe.     -> (Horror Mention) This is the only kind of affection that's risky to show them. You have to be careful with how far you take it, and avoid scenarios where they could accidentally hurt you—you don't want them to get play aggression vs real aggression confused and for them to think hurting you is okay. They wouldn't know when to stop, and might confuse your struggles to escape as part of the fun. You do not want them to think your screams mean you're having fun.

* (Horror/Abuse Mention) Directly showing Rewrite affection/letting them know you're fond of them is actually incredibly risky, but could be very rewarding. Rewrite greatly values loyalty and devotion, so showing that to them is a great way to make them value you and want to keep you around. But... It shows them they have you wrapped around their finger, and it puts you at the mercy of their sadistic whims. They would better know how to hurt you. You're playing a dangerous game here.

[nebulanightsky]

Someone asked to see the bonus, and I'm giving them the bonus..

YALL GETTING CROSS WEARS A FAIRY DRESS DOODLES

[sableprince]

doodlin again i guess ??

scraps under the cut

[happi-dreams]

he.lo i watched that one essay video and the old nostalgia of this movie has crashed right back in ( + a new appreciation of turbo he’s very neat :] )

but i have a strict pocoyo contract so he’s also there too

[ickmick]

so im relistening to tma

(i said id wait longer but... i missed having it in the background :< plus im working on digitalizing that silly jonmartin drawing so it fits to listen to tma teehee)

DENIAL (The Nile) IS A RIVER IN EGYPT!! SPIDERS DON'T DO THAT!! /ref

[scrunglepaws]

Incoherent alien!Silver au/fic/??? doodles. Too many nebulous ideas at the moment, but it seems fun. If someone knows of a fic that has already tackled this premise, I politely request: GIMME. ouo

[robinsnest2111]

idly wondering with what experts would diagnose me if I was 100% truthful and could remember every single thing that happened to me and every single quirk I developed because of it <3

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 7, day 28

Marble!

[blookmallow]

i guess tweed throwing the pie in amos' face was funny and all but pies take forever to make. i dont buy that she'd take all the time and effort it takes to make a fresh homemade pie and then just chuck it at her neighbor

[ilovolderman]

The Secret Notes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky leaves little notes for you.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, cute doodles

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It all started one afternoon when you fell asleep on the couch, a book slipping from your hand. Bucky passed by and found you there, peaceful and unaware. Smiling to himself, he gently picked up the book and noticed the page you’d been reading.

With a quiet laugh, he scribbled a note on a scrap of paper:

“You stopped here. Heroine’s rule: naps first, saving the world later. - B”

He slid the note inside the book, marking the page, and placed it on the table beside you. As he left, he couldn’t help but smile at the idea of you finding it when you woke up.

The next day, you found the note in your book, and you couldn’t help but smile. It was silly, but it made your heart warm. You had to reply, of course.

Taking a fresh piece of paper, you wrote:

“A nap is a hero’s secret weapon, Bucky. Thanks for the reminder. If I do end up saving the world today, I’ll be sure to credit you. - Y/N”

You tucked the note inside his jacket pocket, hoping he’d get a good laugh when he found it. It felt so simple, so small, but the thought of sharing little moments like this with him made everything else seem a little brighter.

It wasn’t long before the notes became a daily exchange. They started off funny—sometimes quoting ridiculous lines from movies, or making playful jokes about the Avengers’ absurdly weird missions. You would find them in your locker, under your coffee mug, or tucked inside your boots. They never failed to make you smile.

Even now, after months together, he still took the time to leave you notes and little reminders.

After a particularly brutal mission, you found another note tucked into the pocket of your jacket. You nearly missed it in the rush to get ready for a debriefing. But when you unfolded it, you found it written on a torn piece of notebook paper, and a doodle of a sleeping cat at the bottom.

“You’re allowed to rest, you know. I’ll guard your coffee while you nap.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. It had been a rough couple of days—bruised ribs, no sleep. The note felt like a soft exhale in the middle of chaos.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one in the hallway.

“Whatcha got there?”

You spun around to see Sam squinting at the piece of paper now very obviously in your hand. And before you could shove it back into your pocket, the man had already snatched it like he was intercepting a rogue football.

“Sam, come on—”

He blinked and read it once. Then again. Then a third time.

 ““You’re allowed to rest, you know. I’ll guard your coffee while you nap”...and there’s a little cat at the bottom. Why is there a cat?! WHO DRAWS CATS?!”

You stared at him, trying very hard not to look like someone caught hiding a secret. “You done?”

“Oh, I’m so not done,” Sam said, holding the note like it was radioactive. “This is a nap-themed love letter, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a...friendly reminder.”

“With a doodle,” he said, as if that was damning evidence in a court of law. “Who writes you sweet notes about coffee and naps after a mission? That’s like—domestic.”

“Maybe I wrote it to myself,” you tried.

“You’re not a cat doodler. I know your vibe. You don’t doodle.”

You grabbed for the note. He dodged you.

“Sam—give it.”

“I will not. I’m onto something here.”

Just then, Bucky strolled around the corner with a cup of coffee in hand and a granola bar between his teeth, looking way too casual.

Sam froze.

You froze.

Bucky stopped mid-chew, immediately sensing the chaos in the air. “…Did I miss something?”

Sam, eyes narrowed like a detective in a sitcom, turned slowly toward him.

“Barnes.”

Bucky blinked. “Wilson.”

Sam raised the note like it was a badge. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

Bucky looked at the paper. Then at you. Then back to Sam.

There was a half-second pause.

And then Bucky shrugged. “Cute cat.”

You choked on a laugh and immediately turned it into a cough.

Sam squinted. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? ‘Cute cat’?”

Bucky popped the last of the granola bar into his mouth, completely unfazed. “You’re getting worked up over a doodle.”

Sam pointed at both of you, eyes wide with dramatic betrayal. “Okay, I don’t know what is going on, but something is going on. I feel it in my soul.”

You patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe you just need a nap.”

“I—NO! No, you don’t get to use the nap line on me! That’s part of the conspiracy!”

Sam was already walking away. “I’ll guard your coffee, Wilson,” Bucky called over his shoulder, deadpan.

The hallway finally settled into silence after Sam’s echoing footsteps disappeared around the corner. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

Bucky lingered beside you, coffee in hand. His eyes flicked toward you, and the smallest smile curved at the corner of his lips.

“So… cat doodles are suspicious now?”

You laughed under your breath. “Apparently. Next time, maybe draw a dragon or something. Keep him guessing.”

“Well,” he said, voice low and amused. “That could’ve gone worse.”

You glanced down at the note in your hand, then back at him. “I mean... he didn’t accuse you of writing love sonnets. So, yeah—definitely could’ve been worse.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, leaning casually against the wall. “Should I stop? The notes, I mean. I didn’t mean to... cause a scene.”

You looked up at him, warmth already blooming in your chest. “No. Don’t stop.”

His brow quirked slightly, curious. “No?”

“They’re one of the best parts of my day,” you said honestly, your voice soft. “They make the hard days easier, and the quiet ones feel full. I’d rather risk a hundred Sam-level interrogations than miss even one of them.”

A grin pulled at Bucky’s mouth, slow and sweet. “Yeah?”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Even if Sam tries to launch a full-scale investigation.”

Bucky let out a quiet laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let him. He doesn’t scare me.”

Then, softer, with that familiar gentleness he always saved just for you, he added, “I’ll keep leaving them, then. Every note, every doodle... they’re little pieces of me. And you’re the only one I want finding them.”

Your smile widened, heart fluttering in that helpless, happy kind of way.

“I guess that makes you my favorite mystery author,” you said lightly.

Bucky leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours. “Only for you, doll.”

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a folded note—you’d planned to tuck it under his pillow later, but something made you decide to give it to him right now. You held it out to him, your smile a little shy.

He opened it slowly. Inside, your handwriting was a little messier than usual, but still clearly yours.

“You’ve got a way of making everything seem a little brighter, even when it’s a rough day. I’m lucky for it.”

Bucky looked up at you, lips parted just slightly. For a long second, he said nothing.

And then he stepped closer, closing the small space between you. His hand brushed yours, slow and warm, and he laced your fingers together.

“You’re gonna destroy me with these notes,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned into him, heart full and beating a little too fast. “Guess we’re even.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead—gentle, lingering, like a promise he never needed to say out loud. Then he tucked your note carefully into the inside pocket of his jacket, where all the best ones lived.

“Don’t tell Sam,” you whispered with a smile.

Meanwhile in the kitchen...

Sam sat at the table, muttering to himself with a pen tucked behind his ear and a spiral notebook open in front of him. On the top of the page in large, underlined letters:

Case #109: WHO THE HELL IS Y/N DATING???

Underneath it were four bullet points:

suspicious nap note

Bucky is too chill

cat doodle = code??

is Steve somehow involved???

This was war now.

And you and Bucky? You were winning.

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd @poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust

next part

[ivy-elle]

"What are you even talking about?"

Or: How they react to you being overly intoxicated aka drunk af

Feat. Albedo, Scaramouche

Notes: No mentions of vomiting, do not worry

Version ft. Xiao and Kaeya

“You… are like totally the most beautiful being on this earth. How is that even legal?”

Your drunk-hazed gaze looks up at him, an admiring, nearly even mesmerised expression on your face.

Albedo stifles a surprised laugh behind a cough, his fist concealing his soft smile. “Thank you, y/n. Why don’t you sit down first?”

Obediently, you follow along as he gently guides you to the couch, the slight grin not wanting to leave your face. Even less, when he crouches down in front of you, studying you with intent focus. He can’t help the slight concern slipping into his expression as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

Meanwhile, you seem to have the time of your life with him being so close to you, with his gentle touch, like you’re something delicate.

How is it even real that you are able to call him your friend – let alone your partner. Like, your very own!

Just the way his crystal-like eyes follow yours, his shimmering hair catching the faint light of the room, down to how pretty his lips move when he speaks…

Wait. Right. He speaks. Listen.

Focus.

Right.

“If you’re able to eat right now, I suggest getting some carbohydrates into your system, my love,” he explains, gently tilting your face. “That way we can nudge your blood level back to normal again.”

You barely contain a silly giggle at his tender touch. “I’d eat straight-up eat wheat right now if you asked me to.”

Albedo nods, very slowly, his brows furrowing as he ponders about how to handle this situation best. “I see. Well, that’s not quite what I had in mind.” And yet, a part of him can’t help but be fascinated by your responses. “Would you be satisfied with some toast instead?”

You hum airily, but the moment he lifts himself up you feel your face fall into a pout, immediately missing his warmth.

“Wait,” you quickly try to prevent him from leaving. “On second thought – I am not even that hungry. You can keep staying here. Sitting.”

“I will remain here.” He slips his fingers from yours, a smile tugging his lips. “See? I am just across the room.” You should eat something to prevent some serious hungover.”

You watch him quietly, nearly enchanted by his smooth movements as he prepares some snacks, listening to his soothing voice. Has he always had this effect on you? You can’t tell. You can’t even care less right now.

“Personally, I’ve never experienced a hangover myself, but it starts right after the alcohol level in your blood starts to drop. And given your state…” He offers you a plate with some fresh toast and light fruits, “I presume it’s best to take precautions now.”

“Thank you,” you murmur fondly, accepting the plate. To your relief, Albedo joins you on the couch.

“Slowly. Take your time.”

“Maybe I was starving a bit. Archons, this is good.”

Albedo chuckles softly, gently taking your hand in his. You feel his thumb lightly tracing along your wrist before it settles on your pulse.

Your turn toward him, tilting your head in confusion. “I am still alive. I think.”

His eyes crinkle, soft musing laced in his voice. “Yes, I can see that, my love. I am merely checking your heart rate.”

Albedo looks you over and the moment your eyes meet his again, you feel your heart rate slightly quicken beneath his fingers.

His frown turns into a soft smile. “You’re feeling alright?”

“If you keep touching me this way, I’ll feel even better.” You hum, your eyes drifting to his lips.

But before you can follow your impulses, Albedo draws back, gently pushing you back by your shoulder. “Forgive me, love, but I’d rather you be sober first.”

Now you can’t help but pout, your face scrunching up. “That’s a bit excessive.”

Amused but persisting, he shakes his head, but not before leaning in and to place a soft kiss on your temple.

“Eat up. I’ll set up some tea and antidote for your headache.”

“I see you’ve lost your mind entirely,” Scaramouche remarks dryly as he halts at the doorway.

“Shhh. I need to focus,” you murmur, not even bothering to look up from where you’re lying on the ground. The room is cloaked in darkness - all windows are drawn shut to prevent any lights from falling inside, and disturbing work of art.

Scaramouche’s gaze darts to the perfectly good bed right beside you. Why, in Teyvat’s name, would you prefer the cold, hard floor? Hasn’t his day been eventful enough as it is already?

“Look at this,” you whisper again, and Scaramouche raises an eyebrow as your Electro Vision flickers to life again. His eyes follow your gaze to the ceiling, where charged threads of Electro dance in a chaotic disorder, illuminating the room in soft purple light. But your attention is glued on the lights, absolutely fascinated by this spectacle.

He steps closer, a pinched expression on his face. “Why don’t you-“

Before he can finish, you reach out, snatching his wrist and pulling him down next to you.

“Look!” you repeat once more.

Obviously, you’re only able to actually move him, because he lets you. But he does not lay down on the ground – who do you think he is? Instead, he crouches down next to you, fixing you with a look, like you’ve lost it entirely. His eyes narrow as he notices your abnormally flushed face, grasping that something is not quite right with you.

But you’re completely ignoring his unsettled expression, rather lifting your hand again to tilt his chin upward, directing his to the ceiling. “Listen to the sky, Scara,” you explain in a tone like it’s supposed to clear up everything.

Listen to the sky?

Scaramouche’s eyes dart down to you again, irritation building up inside him now. He dislikes this - having you physically here, but at the same time you not acting like yourself.

“What the hell is going on with you?”

Your eyebrows scrunch up as you turn your head toward him, like you’re pouting that he isn’t taking your lightning show as serious as he should. “You’re always complaining how fake the sky of Teyvat is. So, I recreated it. Now you have your own. Or, my own. Like – ours, I guess.”

For the sake of his pride, Scaramouche quickly schools his face. A strange combination of confusion, irritation and at the same time a strange warmth settles in his chest. His eyes flicker over your slightly dazed features.

“You’re drunk,” he states flatly, trying to sound unbothered.

For that he earns yet another. “Shhh!” This time a small, but sheepish grin tugs at your lips.

For a moment his eyes linger on you, before he tears them away, letting his gaze return to the ceiling. Now that he’s seeing the purple mist of electro from this angle, your perspective…

“How fake can it be, if I created it myself?”

At the sound of your gentle whisper, he feels his resolve weakening, eyes flickering between the charged branches, now finally taking form on the ceiling.

You created … a sky. For him alone.

Then, even softer, as if to not drive him away, you add, “Sometimes you need to be a bit intoxicated to see the world differently.”

Scaramouche stretches his legs out, leaning back on his elbows. “The ground was the best solution you had?” But there is no real bite in his voice, he is way too immersed in the little universe you’ve created in the room.

For him, his own Electro Delusion has always been nothing more than a tool – a means to gain power. To destroy. Yet, here you are again, showing him the other side of the coin, proving, that in destruction lies its own universe of creation.

“You smell nice,” he hears you mutter suddenly, breaking him through his trails of thoughts.

Of course, you’d say something like this right now. Without looking at you, He doesn’t look at you the corner of his mouth twitches. “I know. You, on the other hand, have had better days.”

You gasp, pushing him away lightly. “Rude! I do not smell bad!”

“You reek of alcohol. It’s onerous.”

He hears you grumble something incoherent under your breath, slurring the words into a mess.

Unimpressed, he clicks his tongue. “Consequences of your own actions.”

But as you shift to stand back up, the electro particles above start to dissolve as well. Almost immediately, his hand grabs your wrist, holding you close. “Stay down.”

You stare at him. Then you blink once. Twice. And then a shit-eating-grin spreads on your lips. “Oho! So, you do like my sky. Ha!”

A scoff escapes him as he tries to act nonchalant and averts his eyes back to the ceiling. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I simply prefer not having you stumbling around the room like a drunk sailor, just because you don’t know your limits. Which seem to be quite low.”

You sit back down, not without grouching a quiet “Jerk.”

“Idiot.”

The two of you glare at each other, daring the other to say something. Eventually, you relent, rising your hands and bringing the lighting to life once more.

Scaramouche remains quiet, savouring your presence for a second longer. Before he looks back at the stars again.

Who needs a fake sky, if a whole universe is right there beside him already?

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3

[ozzgin]

For October, may I ask for more Xenomorph content from you? I adore all of your work from your writing to your drawings, and it would make this silly little worm squiggly with joy - and maybe a bit of something else, if you catch my drift... -

Much love and smooches! 🪱

Xenomorph Queen x Reader x Xenomorph Hive

In which you're kept as a toy by the Queen and passed around by the rest of the Hive. They know you're Ripley's descendant. They'll take their time with you. content: gender neutral reader, NSFW, based on Alien: Isolation

All you wanted was closure.

That's why you hounded every lead, every hint, every possibility. That's why you ended up on Sevastopol, crawling your way through rotten remains of androids and abandoned labs. That's why you got caught.

You thought you'd end up like the others. When the Xenomorph Warrior brought you to the nest, you caught glimpses of the facehugger carcasses, and the people who served as incubators. Their chests were split open, bloated and obscene. Your lips pursed in a grimace as you awaited your fate.

Unexpectedly, you were dragged along, further into the labyrinth of slime and bone. Until, at last, you were facing the Queen herself. You could immediately tell: she was enormous compared to the other aliens. The servants scurried away, abruptly dropping you like some sort of offering for the curious Beast.

One glance, and she knew. She could see it in your defiant scowl, a certain familiarity that immediately filled her with amusement and excitement. You were related to Ripley.

At first, she just observed you as some sort of peculiarity. Truth be told, she never truly learned much about humans outside of the brief incubation period. Then it happened: it seemed that touching you in certain ways aroused you terribly. You were visibly embarrassed by your reaction, biting your lip, covering your face, or trying to look away in order to hide the deep red blush rapidly spreading across your features. The Xenomorph Queen was intrigued.

For the most part, she enjoys toying with you. You're her little plaything, and she won't stop until you're all hot and bothered. Then she'll leave you to the hive. Often, she will watch as her Warriors and Drones pass you around greedily, having their way with you before another one hisses for a turn. Rarely she'll demand her share, mildly envious of the shameless whimpers rolling out of your mouth from being ravaged by one of her underlings.

See, she doesn't mind the others fucking you. She hates it, however, when you're enjoying yourself more under their savage hands. No one does it better than the Queen.

To think she'd be this possessive towards her new human belonging.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [Horror Masterlist]

[rainydaygotham]

So, You’ve Decided to Put on the Red Hood Helmet: A Guide

You honestly don’t know what you were expecting. This was a stupid idea to begin with, so of course it went very wrong very fast.

You were all dolled up in that lingerie set that he likes. No special occasion, you just wanted to give him a little sexy surprise since he’s been so stressed lately. You’d love to give him the world, but right now all you can afford to give him is yourself, so that’ll have to do.

Now the mistake here was made when you walked out of the bedroom. Sure, the element of surprise would’ve been compromised if he came home and you called for him from the bed. Like, who wouldn’t immediately know that they were about to have some fun from that? He would get too cocky. But letting him walk into the living room just to be met with your near-nude body prepped and ready for him? That would catch Jason off guard and hopefully put a cute little flustered blush on his cheeks.

However, you really should’ve stayed in the bedroom. Because then you wouldn’t have seen the helmet sitting on the kitchen table, out in the open and tempting.

Jason was a real possessive guy. It was one of the things that made him so hot, his jealous devotion. So sue you for seeing his helmet and thinking he’ll love to see you wearing his gear. Just like how he loves it when you wear his shirt to bed or when he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when it’s cold.

You were so caught up in appealing to his possessive side, that you failed to take into consideration a not-even-unrelated side of the Red Hood. Which was definitely a side so prominent you really shouldn’t have missed it. His paranoia.

As soon as you lowered the iconic red helmet onto your head, an electric chime went off like it was a washing machine or something. You had no idea what that was about but you quickly forgot about it.

This thing smelled like a combination of Jason’s breath and his shampoo. You inhaled deeply in reverence. You missed him too much, despite it only being a workday since you’d last saw him.

It was weirdly heavy? You don’t know why you’d never considered that this piece of tech would be any heavier than a motorcycle helmet, but it made sense. You were looking at the world through a kind of UI at the moment.

You went and found the mirror to check yourself out. Feeling silly, you flexed your muscles in various poses pretending to be Jason. Gotta hand it to you, you made this helmet look pretty cute. Although wearing nothing but lingerie with it was bringing it into slutty halloween costume territory. ‘Sexy Red Mask Costume’, the package would say. See, no copyright infringement there.

Well, that’s enough for now, you thought. You should start on dinner and get it in the oven so it’ll be done by the time he’s finished fucking your brains out. You reached for the helmet to start pulling it off—

*BZZT*

IT FUCKING ZAPPED YOU.

You dropped it immediately, not giving it a chance to pick up the wattage from annoying warning shock to full on electrocuting you. Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. You forgot he and every other bat has a high tech suit that punishes people who try to take them off. Can’t have those precious identity revealed, can we?

You tried searching your brain for any information on how to deactivate Jason’s security measures but were drawing a blank. Whenever he took it off he just reached up and took it off, no fanfare. What was the secret???

Well. Looks like Sexy Red Mask is cooking dinner tonight. Better get that apron…

When Jason came home, he was completely prepared to get his bones jumped the minute he walked through the door. Sorry, but you weren’t subtle with your little ‘i miss you. when are you getting home?’ texts.

You were a horny little bitch, but you were his horny little bitch and you were so good to him that you’d never catch him complaining. He never thought he’d have someone, let alone someone so desiring of him. Your love was a relief.

So yeah, he was expecting the ‘sexy surprise’. Sorry baby but you’re not slick.

What he was not expecting, however, was a slutty pinup of his vigilante identity to be pouting on the couch.

His eyes took in your form. Man, he loved you. Even if your seduction technique needed work. He chuckled as he started shrugging off his leather jacket, and you turned to him,

“Welcome home!” you chirped your greeting, and then carefully tapped the helmet, which he found adorable, “can you please get this off of me? When I put it on, it locked, and now I can’t take it off without being tased.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you gotta give Jason credit, he was trying his best not to full on laugh, “it’ll do that,”

“Just help me, please. It’s really heavy,” you whined.

“Well..” he raked his eyes over your body once again, “would you be willing to wear it just a teensy bit longer?”

Seeing you in his helmet was making him feel some type of way.

You sighed, but no yeah, that’s why you put it on in the first place, wasn’t it? Damn you for knowing your boyfriend.

You crossed your arms, feigning annoyance, “I suppose you can fuck me in it first, yeah,” you giggled.

“Beautiful,” he purred as he started lazily undoing his belt, “You’re beautiful.”

[cheriedivine]

Youtuber Ellie x Reader Hc’s <3

♡‧₊˚₊✧ pairing: youtuber Ellie Williams x youtuber fem reader (No use of y/n)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ CW: slight cursing

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Tags: just pure fluff tbh

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Author’s note: I’ve been watching so much Izzy&Emma lately and i thought about this fun idea and i love this so much lmk if y’all want a part 2 bc i definitely have more ideas for this ^~^ (maybe also a little one shot?)

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Ok so Ellie convinced you to start a channel with her for shits and giggles yk but a video of you guys doing a Dress to impress gameplay went viral and it was all over tiktok.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Like the video got 100k views in 48 hours…

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ After that, she was hooked. She begged you to keep making videos together, saying it was “for the fans,” but really… she just liked having an excuse to be on camera with you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ofc you accepted (how could you not when she was so cute)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ One of your most popular videos is the Couple Drawing Challenge where you switch canvases every 5 minutes. You couldn’t stop laughing, meanwhile Ellie was so serious about it. Like, genuinely stressed every time she had to give up her progress.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ The paintings turned out surprisingly good (thanks to her of course), and she hung them up in your shared apartment like they’re museum pieces.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ While you love vlogging little cozy days, behind-the-scenes moments, aesthetic montages, Ellie’s more into chaotic gameplay and silly challenges.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ When you hit 1k subscribers (even though she was ready to celebrate at 100), Ellie made a cake from scratch. It was… questionable looking, but the effort was there. She even tried to pipe "1K BABY" on top with pink frosting. (You chose the colors)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I just KNOW she’s the type to be like “babe we’re not doing a Q&A those are cringe” cut to 5 mins later: “so the first question is ‘who fell first’… it was me. obviously.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ELLIE WOULD FORCE JOEL TO APPEAR IN A VIDEO AND IT WOULD BE THE FUNNIEST SHIT EVER.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I can imagine him wearing that “I love my lesbian daughter” shirt.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ The comments immediately dubbed him “DILF of the Year.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Ellie was disgusted. “Stop hitting on my dad, weirdos.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You made Ellie a swear jar so your videos wouldn’t get demonetized. She tried to cheat by using creative alternatives like “fork” and “ship,” but gave up after a week.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You’ve collected enough for like, a whole sephora haul

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ She bought you the Sabrina Carpenter skin in fortnite just so you’d play with her.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You did. And totally destroyed her. She was… not okay afterward. Her ego’s was a bit bruised ngl

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Ellie insists on matching outfits when you film together. Oversized hoodies, themed shirts, stupid little hats, she loves it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Also, she has her hands on you at all times. Arm around your shoulder, hand on your thigh, holding your pinky. Marking her territory for the creepy dudes in the comments.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ She always deletes hate comments so you wont get sad :( (cutie)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ But what she doesn't know is that you made a secret account so you could fight the incels in your comment section LOL

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You filmed a “Doing my girlfriend’s makeup” video… Ellie ended up looking like a glam rock star and refused to take it off for hours because “I ate this shit up to be honest.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ The comment section was filled with “Is your gf single?, asking for a friend”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You deleted them <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Ellie made you film a ghost hunting vlog in an abandoned building. She screamed first. You have the footage. You’re never letting her live it down.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You guys have a series called “Gayming o’clock” where you play dating sims, fortnite, roblox and chaotic co-op games.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Ellie accidentally went viral for being too soft with you on camera — like fixing your mic, brushing your hair away, or whispering “you’re doing so good, babe” mid-filming. The fans LOST IT.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ For your anniversary, she made a cringey but adorable montage of your funniest on-camera moments. It ends with her saying “Here’s to forever. Unless you beat me at Fortnite again, then we’re breaking up.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ There’s a running joke on your channel that Joel is the true star. You guys got him a little trophy and filmed him “accepting his award.” He actually smiled (rare footage!!).

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You guys always EAT UP the fan edits on tiktok, you have a folder full of them.

[rkivefae]

(repost from old acc, it's been a few years since I've been on here)

Okay, so my friend has doodled in my chemistry notebook when I let them borrow it, then I began thinking,,

Steddie high school au

Eddie draws continuously in chemistry class and he has certain things he draws with inspiration from that class and doesn’t want to contaminate it with other classes so he hides the notebook, poorly, in hope that when he comes back, it'll still be there.

Steve comes to his seat, in the back of the class and notices it immediately. His first thought is that someone lost it so he grabs it in hopes of seeing a name but instead sees crazy drawings. Ranging from small sketches of supposed knights to fantasy creatures that Steve never would have thought of seeing.

"If found, leave where it is OR ELSE" It read in thick sharpie letters on the front page.

He felt bad for being nosy and going through it but he couldn't help himself as he continued looking through it. After some heavy overthinking, he decides to draw something back. He wasn't the most talented but he was better than most in his art classes, so hopefully they didn’t laugh too much at his attempt.

He decides to draw a jester, tried his best to shade in all perfectly and portion everything properly. To say the least, he was impressed with his final product because this is better than anything he’s ever done in is classes. Next to it he writes, as if the character was saying it, “You should put this in better places.”

He didn’t even focus in class, AT ALL.

But when he came back to the class, he found the notebook again. Took one look at it and tried to fight back the desire to just crack it open and see if they wrote back. His fingers itched to have the glosses cover turned open. just a peak. He tried to reason and at first he held back. Trying to focus in class but that ended terribly, so he grabbed the notebook after about 5 minutes of spacing out on the teacher and eyeing it.

When he opened the page, there it was. A reply.

It was a king, you could tell by the crown he wore but fangs were prominent in the grinning feature. Black curled hair that fell onto his shoulder that was covered by a dark suit. A hand stretched out with a sword towards the Jester, “There is a trespasser? And a fool? State thy business!”

Steve fucking giggled. Giggled! Of all things he could’ve done, he giggled! King Steve Harrington since freshman year, had all the ladies wooing at him and guys wanting to be him just giggled because the owner of the notebook drewsomething for him.

Steve would never get focus back into that class since he replied. Always waiting for the notebook and it became his priority. He didn’t understand how he was still passing that class with how much he began lacking!

They talked about simple silly things at first before Eddie began picking it up more, talking more about who he was but never stated a name, not yet. They weren’t ready for that.

Steve even helped Eddie decide on what to use as his Hellfire club signature look that was going to be fought to be published as an official club on school record!

But when the last page came along at the ending of the school year, Eddie spoke about it. Said, “It’s the end of the year, the last of this book. Could I finally ask your name?”

Steve’s whole world stopped spinning. He couldn’t even begin to explain the thoughts racing through his head.

When they know, would they stop being friends with him? No one truly liked Steve Harrington, he became popular by default of being a pretty boy and on the basketball team. Most talked about how his group of people were assholes and that he might as well be, too. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew what most people thought. He was a boy of a rich family that was spoiled. That wasn’t a lie, but his life wasn’t pretty, thanks to his father and mother. But could anyone really understand that? Walking through the door of his home in fear of what he’ll walk in and see, what would happen to him if he breathed wrong in the presence of his father?

What if when he says his name and they don’t want nothing to do with him? What if when he says his name, he loses the only honest friendship he has? What if they share the things he told them in the notebook to everyone else withproof as a way to ruin his life because they didn’t like him? Maybe they weren’t like that but Steve couldn’t take that risk. No one with this chance would not take it, right? Tommy would take it. The rest of the boys on the team would take it. Carol would take it and laugh about it. He couldn’t expect different from other people, right?

Steve’s breathing quickened as his chest tightened, tears welling up and he gripped his chest. He rushed out of class with an unsteady balance, the teacher yelling behind him and he didn’t return for that period, the notebook left open and unsigned.

He couldn’t.

That moment was talked about everywhere, how he rushed out of class and didn’t return. No one bothered to question why, just whispered how panicked he was. Poor Steve, they said mockingly in the halls but never to his face.

Eddie knew.

It didn’t take long to piece it all together, the incident, the opened notebook, the fact that it was all too much of a coincidence and the things he said just made sense for it to be Steve Harrington.

He didn’t want to believe it at first, laughing that it was just dumb and there was no way that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with passion. But then again, they both didn’t know who each other was.

When Steve talked about dumb moments with his ‘friends’ and how he felt bad for the people they ‘hung’ around, the games he lost and how he beat himself up, even the moments that Steve told him how he hated the social ranking - it all should have made sense. At first, Eddie thought that the person writing back was like him, a freak with nerdy interest. Which, in a different font, Steve was.

However, as the next few years flied by, Eddie just watched Steve from afar. From sucking faces with Nancy Wheeler in the hallway, picking her up and twirling her around, smiling bright because he was happy to the moments that it looked like Steve was seconds away from turning over and dying. The bruises that cascaded over certain parts of his body being a brushed off topic and the fear that was in his eyes when he turned the corner. Like he knew things he shouldn’t.

There was raw fear, hatred, anger and even disgust that Eddie was able to recognize. Part of him wondered where the happiness went and the other was tired of him staying afar, wanting to talk to him because Steve Harrington was more than just a pretty boy from what he knew and the look on his eyes only said more.

Eddie never got to, Steve rushed past every day, ready to get the day over and he couldn’t talk to him. Soon, Steve graduated and Eddie was held-back again and he took that as a sign. A strong one. To just get over it. He was never going to know Steve Harrington and it was stupid for him to even think so. Plus, if he did, it was stupid! The town freak with the most loved boy in town? Not a good duo. So, he stayed afar for good.

Until he didn’t.

Steve Harrington waltzed in with an arguing Dustin Henderson, the club all watching the two before Steve Harrington scoffed. “I’m serious, I’m not playing your nerdy campaign just because you’re missing a person! I don’t understand it,” He said, pushing a bag towards Dustin’s chest. “You know I’m not smart enough to understand that.”

Before Dustin could reply, Eddie took that as his chance to finally greet them. He climbed out of his chair rather loudly, catching both of their attention before walking up to Steve, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Well, Well, if it isn’t the missing Jester.” He said, a cocky tone laced within it

It took only a few seconds before Steve’s eyes widened when it clicked.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

[darkmatilda]

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer reid tries to focus on work, but keeps getting distracted. first by an unexpected phone call. then by the way you start flirting with another agent right across from his desk. but in the end, why does it even bother him?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spender reid x diva!chemist reader, reader kinda threatens to poison him, but its not a threat, just their silly way of showing mutual affection <3

��𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request. heyyy wonderful people, just letting you know that your request was the second-to-last in my inbox, so im opening them again! feel free to send me your ideas for the diva reader series, im already grateful in advance :>

Spencer usually gave out his phone number only to the people closest to him.

That way, he didn’t get unnecessary calls distracting him from more important matters, and he could be sure that if someone truly needed to reach him, they wouldn’t have any trouble doing so.

So, as he walked through the Quantico office, planning to track down Hotch—who supposedly wanted to see him—he was so absorbed in their case that he pressed his phone to his ear without thinking, without even looking at the screen, fully expecting to hear a familiar voice. Someone from the team, maybe.

Instead…

"Hey there, gorgeous."

A slightly raspy male voice. Spencer immediately estimated the caller to be around forty, judging by the subtle rustling sound—whoever it was, they were holding the phone just a little too close to their mouth.

Spencer froze in place.

His first thought—a wrong number.

His second—another one of Morgan’s pranks.

Just in case it was the latter, he didn’t hang up immediately. If his friend had planned something, he needed to find out what—so he could properly retaliate later.

"We met last night, don’t know if you remember," the man continued after a brief silence, caused entirely by Spencer’s confusion. "I hope you do. Because I sure do. Hard to forget a face like yours. You still there, sweetheart?"

In case anyone had any doubts—Spencer was not the intended recipient of this conversation.

He hadn’t gone out the night before, let alone given his number to a stranger. In fact, he had been in an entirely different state.

"Oh, sweetheart, don’t make me mad now. Or maybe you’re staying quiet because you’re curious how much I remember about you? Want me to remind you what you were wearing?"

Suddenly, it clicked.

After a brief second of pure disbelief, Spencer rolled his eyes upward, staring straight into the glare of the overhead lights. He blinked slowly.

His brain was exceptionally sharp that day. Even more so than usual.

Which meant it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together. A quick mental chain reaction, linking scattered fragments of information into a single, clear conclusion. 

The man on the other end of the line thought Spencer was the woman he had met the night before.

Spencer had a few female friends, but everything—literally everything—pointed to her.

First of all, he was nearly certain none of the others had gone out last night. They had all been working together, after all.

Second, and somehow more importantly—none of them, except her, would have found it remotely funny to give his number to a random guy.

As a joke? Was that what this was supposed to be?

“There’s no need for that,” Spencer cut in sharply, before the man on the other end could start poetically or less poetically describing her outfit.

This time, the silence came from the other side, laced with clear confusion.

Spencer couldn’t stop the faint crease forming on his forehead, nor the subtle tension drawing his shoulder blades together. The entire conversation left a bad taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t just because the guy was wasting his time.

It was his voice.

Self-important. Smug. Wet in a way that made simply listening to him an unpleasant experience. The kind of voice that could turn an otherwise neutral or even affectionate word sweetheart into something damn near degrading.

Years of experience profiling people meant Spencer had no trouble picturing exactly the kind of man he was dealing with. And the distaste coiling in his gut only sharpened.

“For future reference,” he said, barely pausing for breath, his grip tightening on the phone, “I’d suggest double-checking the numbers women give you when they’re trying to get rid of you. Because this isn’t your sweetheart. This is the Behavioral Analysis Unit, which, for your information, is part of the FBI. And your utterly pointless, time-wasting phone call could be considered obstruction of justice, which, surprise, can land you several years in prison.

A loud silence followed—one that left Spencer with a strange feeling. Satisfaction, maybe.

The man cleared his throat, and Spencer would bet good money that there were one or two silent curses mixed in there.

“This whore must’ve given me a fake number,” the guy muttered, no longer speaking directly into the phone.

The sudden shift from sweetheart to whore was so blatant that Spencer couldn’t hold back a sharp, mocking scoff.

“Well, I’m guessing you didn’t think of her as a whore when you were trying to hit on her last night—”

He barely finished the last word before the line went dead.

For a moment, he remained motionless, the phone still pressed to his ear, analyzing his own reaction. He was completely taken aback by it. Almost immediately, though, he forced himself into a nonchalant shrug, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation at an unwanted call.

Work. Right. Work. He had work to do, he had to meet with Hotch…

…but he had barely covered a few meters when his gaze caught a familiar stride and silhouette crossing one of the hallways. And before his mind could even consciously make the decision, he found himself heading in that direction—despite originally going somewhere entirely different.

“Did you have fun last night?” he asked as her hand pressed the elevator button.

She didn’t look at him at first, though she must have heard his footsteps. It wasn’t until he spoke that she slightly turned her head toward him.

“Not too bad,” she admitted casually. Her hands immediately moved to their usual position, arms crossed over her chest, and a small teasing smile danced on her lips.“How about your morning? Any interesting phone calls?”

He opened and closed his mouth, not expecting to be so transparent. He also felt a bit confused by her enigmatic, calm reaction. The elevator stopped, and she confidently stepped inside first.

Spencer followed her.

“I don’t quite get it,” he admitted, furrowing his brows. “Was that supposed to be a joke at my expense, or that guy’s?”

They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder in the small elevator space. He looked at her, and she stared ahead. She slowly shrugged.

“Maybe both,” she replied, inspecting her nails. Spencer clenched his lips, holding back from saying that she could at least spare him the ignorant, irritating attitude for once. “Or maybe I just wanted to get rid of the pushy guy by giving him the first random number I could think of” She paused, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “And maybe I was hoping you'd scare the shit out of him with some long lecture, preferably about the law. Was I right?”

She shifted her gaze fully to him, her piercing eyes locking onto him with such intensity that denial was out of the question. He didn’t even need to answer—the flicker of expression that crossed his face gave him away instantly.

Her short laugh filled the elevator.

He always felt a little humiliated, standing there in silence while she laughed at his expense. So he spoke first, blurting out the first thing that came to mind—the thing that had been sitting there for a while now.

“Does that happen a lot? Guys being pushy?”

She gave him a closer look, maybe because of the unintended seriousness in his voice. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. Clearing his throat, he tried to appear more indifferent.

“Well, yes,” she said simply. Stating an obvious fact, a reality she was used to. “Every time. But getting rid of them isn’t hard. A well-placed conversation, and they run off just as fast as they showed up.” She scoffed. “But sometimes I’d rather just, you know, actually enjoy my evening instead of dealing with them. And that’s when the fake number trick comes in.”

Spencer caught himself listening with genuine interest. He was well aware of the effect she had on people—how she drew eyes just by existing, how so many of those looks were filled with nothing but desire. He also had the impression that, for the most part, she regarded them with mild disdain—or maybe even enjoyed being the center of attention.

He hadn’t considered that sometimes she’d had enough of them—so much so that she had an entire list of strategies to get rid of them just as quickly as she attracted them.

He realized he had fallen silent, lost in thought. The elevator stopped at her floor—he hadn’t planned on getting in with her in the first place, which meant he was now stuck pretending he was going somewhere else.

She took a step toward the open doors before his voice stopped her.

“Wait, you’re not even going to say thank you?” he asked. “I did waste some time on that guy. That was a solid lecture.”

She stood in front of the open doors, facing him.

“I have a suspicion,” she began, one brow arching as a teasing smirk tugged at her lips, “that you enjoyed it way too much to actually need my thanks.”

She gave him a small wave—just her fingers, really—before the elevator doors slid shut, cutting them off from each other. Spencer hated to admit—even to himself—that she had a point. Okay, a lot of a point, he realized as he recalled that fleeting rush of satisfaction when the call abruptly ended, punctuated by a hint of panic on the other end.

And maybe that was what ultimately decided it—because from that moment on, on the rare occasions he received similar calls, he always had a long, meticulously crafted, stern lecture at the ready. One that, just before the inevitable abrupt hang-up, sent the smallest, most satisfying shiver down his spine.

*

"You have three hours."

"I can handle it in two."

 "Do it in one."

Spencer remembered these words, muttering a soft shit under his breath. The massive stack of papers that not only needed to be read but also carefully analyzed seemed to be getting no smaller. The hour on the clock, however, kept ticking forward.

"Hm? What's up? Do you have something?"

He slowly shifted his unwilling gaze to the man he was trapped in the room with. Well, not literally trapped, but that’s how it felt. Dean Bradley, an agent who’d been working on the case they’d just been assigned to for years, knew it inside out—naturally, he had been assigned to cooperate with them. His current role, however, seemed to involve nothing more than pretending to write something on the whiteboard and occasionally throwing out a theory that supposedly brought them closer to the solution but, in reality, only pushed them further away. Bradley was incredibly distracting to Spencer.

"No... I just... nothing." Spencer replied rubbing his throbbing temple. That case had been exceptionally exhausting, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and the coffee he had just drunk hadn’t helped at all. "Nothing. Just...can you not say anything to me for a while?"

Bradley raised an eyebrow at him but Reid didn’t really care. Simply buried his nose in the papers again, reading, or rather, devouring the pages with his eyes. There hadn’t been the best atmosphere between them ever since Spencer had ignored his outstretched hand for a greeting. Well, that was because he had seen Bradley leaving the bathroom earlier, and even if he had washed his hands, he had immediately touched the door handle that everyone in the building touched, half of whom hadn’t washed their hands. Honestly, Spencer would have preferred to kiss him as a greeting. It would have been safer.

For a moment, Bradley was actually quiet. He didn’t stay that way for too long, though—just long enough.

"So, where are those lab results? Weren’t they supposed to be here by now?"

"They were. So, I’m guessing they’ll be here any minute," Spencer replied shortly.

"It’s taking a while. Maybe I should just go grab them myself?"

Yeah, please do, Spencer nearly begged. He even opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the door swung open and a woman stepped in, moving with quick, confident steps, but this time with a bit of frustration in her stride.

Completely ignoring the man's gaze landing on her, she stepped up to his desk and dropped the promised lab results onto it with a sharp motion.

"Could you tell me," she began, one hand still resting on the papers, preventing him from immediately going through them. Because she was standing while he was sitting, her figure loomed over him, forcing him to tilt his head slightly to meet her eyes. Naturally, he did, his gaze moving from her hand with neatly manicured fingers to her beautiful face, her bottom lip slightly protruding as she prepared to speak. "When exactly did I become your secretary? Because I don't remember that moment."

Spencer didn't even blink before responding, so used to thir verbal sparring and the fast pace she always set, just like her steps.

"Well, maybe since you started handing out my number left and right," he shot back instantly. Without breaking his gaze, he grabbed the empty cup sitting within arm's reach. "And since you consider yourself my secretary, would you be so kind as to make me a coffee?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Agent Bradley watching their exchange with fascination, focused on only one side of the conversation. No need to specify which side. Meanwhile, the woman tilted her head slightly to the side, a certain gleam lighting up her eyes.

"Sure," she replied, to his surprise. There was something devious in her tone. Suddenly, Spencer didn't want the coffee anymore. "But I’m not sure I’d be so kind as to make sure those ten teaspoons of sugar you put in your coffee are actually sugar, and not, say, arsenic..."

Instinctively, he pulled the cup closer to himself.

"Not ten," he mumbled.

"Oh, my eternal apologies, I exaggerated a bit. Five?"

"Well, now you're getting closer..."

Their conversation, or rather their verbal sparring, was interrupted by a cough.

“Reid,” Bradley said his last name much friendlier than ever before, with a mischievous grin on his face. “When you said the chemist would bring us the lab results, I imagined, I don’t know, Einstein with his hair sticking out in all directions. Did you really lock such a treasure in the lab?” he chuckled. “So it wouldn't distract y’all?”

Spencer looked up at the woman in front of him again, who had only just noticed the third person in the room. Her hand slowly slid off the papers she’d been resting on, though it stayed on the desk. She half turned her body toward the new speaker, casually sitting on the desk. There was something hypnotic in the fluid, clock-like motion as she crossed one knee over the other. For a moment, he just watched, realizing after a while that he wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe I locked myself in there,” she replied. Her tone calm, too calm, as it always was before she’d throw words, like precisely aimed darts, at the other person. “So I wouldn’t have to listen to the same tired lines from agents with the same tired faces, thinking they’re being creative.”

For a moment, he completely forgot about the pile of papers waiting to be analyzed. He watched what was unfolding in front of him, a small smile involuntarily starting to form on his lips. However, it faded the moment he noticed Bradley’s expression. He had expected him to be shut down. Speechless, maybe. Hurt in that characteristic, pathetic way typical of fragile male pride. Instead, Bradley was grinning like an idiot.

“Wow, that’s a bit harsh,” Bradley commented lightly, not in the slightest bit put off by her words. In fact, the fascination on his face only grew.

Spencer couldn’t help but glance at the profile of the woman sitting motionless on the desk. Her gaze was now also more focused, following the person across from her. Her eyes seemed even more concentrated, intrigued, and entertained than during their conversation. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her, physically making himself look back at the papers. Work, right, work. He had to focus on it, despite how distracted he was by their presence. It was, after all, natural. They were speaking rather loudly, right in front of him. He began reading the text on the page, concentrating only on it.

“You must feel like some princess locked in a tower,”

His ears, against his better judgment, picked up Bradley’s next words. He shook his head. Text. A quick glance at the woman’s face. Text.

“You know, that German fairy tale from the 18th century…”

Spencer, from his own experience, knew that info dumping wasn’t the most effective way to flirt with a woman. Especially when it wasn’t even accurate.

“17th century,” he corrected, unable to stop himself. Both their gazes landed on him, but he didn’t respond to either, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers. He was reading them, but couldn’t grasp their meaning. He started analyzing the same paragraph again, continuing, “Assuming we’re talking about the German version of that fairy tale recorded by The Brothers Grimm. Because, actually, this was developed from the French literary fairy tale Persinette by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force, which itself is an alternative version of the Italian fairy tale Petrosinella by Giambattista Basile.”

A long silence fell. The woman shifted slightly in her seat, pretending to be focused on her work, and he tried not to look at her face. Was there pity or amusement on it? Why did it matter to him so much to figure that out? What mattered was only one thing: they were bothering him. The two of them. With the noise they were generating, to be precise.

The sound that filled the room was probably just a long breath from Bradley.

“Wow,” he repeated, thrown off. “Thanks for the clarification, Agent Reid.”

“It’s Doctor Reid.”

He couldn’t stop himself and looked at her. She closed her eyes when a smile spread across her lips. She didn’t try to hide it or hold it back. It was simply there. Bradley noticed it too, his arms, which had been casually resting on his hips, sliding down along his body.

"Didn't you have some urgent documents to analyze?" he began, trying not to sound confrontational, but he failed. He sounded confrontational. "The ones you kept reminding me about every five minutes since we got here?"

Reid didn't have a sharp retort ready for that one; in fact, Bradley had hit the nail on the head. He did have a lot of urgent documents to go through, but for reasons unknown to him, he'd decided to engage in this pointless conversation instead. His silence only seemed to fuel the satisfaction on Bradley's face, which was broken only by the movement of the woman. Specifically, her rising from the desk.

"You could've just said we’re interrupting," she remarked, stretching one leg after the other, every movement fluid. "Especially if it's something important. Is it?"

"Well, actually, yes..."

"In that case, I suppose we're in the way. Shall we go, Agent Bradley?"

She must have read his last name off the badge pinned to her chest. Both Spencer and Bradley looked at her, but only one of them slowly cracked a smile. The other let out a sigh, pretending to feel relief, though deep down, he genuinely did—finally, he could focus on what he had wanted to from the start.

They both made their way toward the door. Unused to her quick pace, and still a bit surprised by the attention she had given him, the agent trailed after her like a lost puppy. As they crossed the threshold, she turned back to him over her shoulder, looking like a kid bragging about winning a bike race.

Spencer merely shook his head with pity, and when they both disappeared in the same direction, he scoffed.

He returned to his work.

After a while, he found himself thinking that perhaps he preferred their conversation to be within earshot, rather than out of it.