#okay. see. the common denominator there is You

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Billionaire's Wife | Bruce Wayne/Batman x  Magician!Reader

Synopsis: After seeing an article that reduces her to some typical “billionaire’s wife” with a lot of sexism, offensive gender roles, and instigations of a gold-digger, Vivian finds her footing in the complex world of Gotham's elite and realizes that she doesn't always have to be the demure wife who smiles a lot, and she will show them that no one messes with her, especially in her own house.

Vivian sighed as she read the headline on the online article that greeted her on her browser-news. MRS. VIVIAN PRYOR WAYNE, A LIVING RAGS TO RICHES STORY by some contributor to Gotham Gazette's online articles. She's been reading the article for some time now and has memorized every line with how much she's scrolled through it. At some point she just slammed her laptop shut because she felt like she was adding to the page's traffic which only boosts the press to write such stuff. 

God, she didn't understand why this was happening again. The first time it happened was when she was just dating Bruce. People started writing how chummy they were during the second take of her book launch, and how Bruce was spoiling her with gifts that she was living every woman's dream by going on yacht trips, michelin star restaurants, luxury brand gifts, and a handsome man that had a reputation for being a playboy. 

Opening her laptop again, Vivian groaned and read through the article to figure out how they even got that shot and how they thought that her day going shopping with Bruce and Tim, and having the man carry majority of the shopping bags full of clothes and school things for the new addition of Tim to their home became “Mrs. Vivian Wayne dragging billionaire Bruce Wayne and his credit card through Gotham's shopping district.”

First of all: She was Vivian Pryor-Wayne. She just sticks to “Vivian Pryor” for her books and her teaching, and other things but since marrying she was legally Vivian Pryor Wayne. She just uses Vivian Pryor for her professional name and for her books. She willingly added the name Wayne to her name to show her love. As a joke she would call Bruce “Mr. Pryor” which he doesn't mind at all.

Second: she does not drag Bruce and his credit cards around the shopping district. She has her own black credit cards, all of which she pays on her own hard-earned cash. 

Third: How did they not see Tim in that photo? The kid was right there with here. She was holding his hand! And they really should have blurred his face since he was a minor. She'll be talking to their lawyers about this later.

“Everything alright, Viv?” Tim came down, all dressed up for school.

“Yes!” Vivian slammed her laptop to hide the article. “Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be fine?”

She didn't seem fine. Tim and Alfred exchanged looks before he took his place across from her and Alfred placed breakfast on the table. 

“Okay,” Tim took a bite of his toast. He watched her for a while, noticing how she drummed her fingers on the surface of her laptop and the contemplative look on her face, that looked like she was planning a murder. Tim would know. He's been working with Batman for a while now as Robin, and before that he's been a really good detective with learning who Batman and Robin really were. “Is it about the thing?”

“What thing?”

Tim gave her a sympathetic look. “We all know that's not real… it's just the press making gossip to give people to talk about.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about,” Vivian drank her coffee.

Tim sighed. What is it with the people in Wayne Manor? It seems stubbornness and pride were a common denominator with all of them. “I saw the article, Viv.”

Vivian was quiet for a time, eating her jam on toast before asking, “Does Bruce, know?”

“The fact that you asked, and the fact that he's not here telling this yourself means he doesn't.”

Vivian sighed and looked at him with a small smile, “Save the detective work after school, okay?”

Tim grinned and shrugged. “It's second nature by now. But seriously, Viv, we all know it's not true. I was there, remember? And I've been living here for a while now to know that what you and Bruce have is real and special.”

Vivian got up and walked around the table and embraced him from behind, “Thanks, Timmy.”

“Anytime, Vivian,” Tim smiled.

“You're heading to work now?” Bruce entered the room all dressed for work.

“I am,” Vivian squeezed Tim's shoulder, a message to not mention anything to Bruce. 

“This early?” Bruce slightly frowned. He got up quite late and wasn't able to have breakfast with her.

“We already spent enough time earlier before I got out of bed to get ready,” she kissed his cheek. “I'll make it up to you when I drop by your office after work for our three-o'clock meeting for the Wayne Foundation event.”

“Alright,” Bruce took her hand just as she was going to leave with her bag, and pulled her down for a kiss. Tim rolled his eyes and focused on his breakfast, while Alfred just focused on packing her lunch and extra coffee. After tasting the coffee that Gotham University had in their campus lounge, he started packing her a thermos of coffee that would satisfy her for the day. “Have fun at work.”

“I will! You too – and Tim, have fun at school!”

After thanking Alfred for the packed lunch and coffee, and the discreet way of saying, “all will be well,”, Vivian left. It was only when they were sure she won't be coming back for something that Bruce spoke, asking, “What's wrong?”

“As always, Sir, nothing gets past you,” said Alfred.

“What's wrong? Vivian didn't even finish her breakfast,” Bruce pointed out. She always cleans her plate before leaving. 

“Nor did she steal from the cookie jar before leaving,” Tim added.

“Nor did she give you as much attention as you required before going to the office,” Alfred jests.

Bruce only looked at the two, waiting for an answer. Alfred was a tough nut to crack, but Tim…

While Tim would put the mission first and Bruce trusts him with Batman's identity – he is Robin now after all – he can't always hide something from Bruce when it comes to Vivian. Especially when placed in a hotseat. But later, as he grows older and becomes more independent, he starts to learn how to keep things from Bruce regarding Vivian. As long as it wasn't life threatening. 

“There was an article online,” Tim sighed. “Sorry, Alfred, I know I wasn't supposed to but…”

“Not to worry, Master Timothy. It takes more than just fighting crime in a bird costume to stand up to your commanding officer. You'll one day learn that sometimes it's alright to give them a good smack.”

“Is that what you did when you served?”

“Tim,” Bruce told him to continue. 

“It's an article on Gotham Gazette – you know those anonymous writers they have to write some tabloid bullsh –”

“Master Timothy!”

“Sorry, Alfred — but you get the point.”

“What's this article about?” Bruce opened his laptop that he had beside him to check. 

“You'll know when you see it.”

And he did. The moment Bruce opened the Gotham Gazette's website. While it was for supposed to be showing current news on Gotham, such as the latest bank robbery by Two-Face which Batman and Robin stopped, or some new thing the new District Attorney was going on about, the headlining article on the homepage was the photo of them three with the photo's caption making him frown. 

Is that what Gotham was painting a picture of his wife? Some gold digger? Bruce thought as he read the article. It infuriated him that they were making such stories based off of stone shots, especially when Vivian has proven so many times that she was a hard working woman, that she was more than just a “billionaire's wife”. The title itself was offensive since she was more than just Bruce Wayne's wife. Before they married — hell, before they dated she was already building her name in her profession. She got a couple of Doctorates under her belt, wrote books and studies, and has contributed works into Gotham City's historical archives. She was awarded by the mayor for her works that depict Gothams City's history! Aside from that she's been an active contributor to Wayne Foundation charities, both the Thomas Wayne Foundation and the Martha Wayne Foundation. A part of her profit from the books she gives to charities to help Gotham City.

“I'm heading to work. Alfred, I'll leave Tim with you,” said Bruce as he got up.

“Very well, Sir,” Alfred sighed as Bruce left with his things and drove off. “I know now who I'm not telling where I hid the biscuit jar next time nor the shotgun.”

Tim sighed. “Oh brother.”

~*~

Walking through Wayne Enterprises’ building, Vivian tried her hardest to ignore the looks she was getting from some of the staff walking about. She would still greet them with a smile and a “hello”, but after that she would try not to notice the look on their faces that says they saw the article. Maybe she should have just taken the stairs than go through the long walk to the elevator. She'd gladly just open a portal to the floor itself then go through this long walk. But it would be too suspicious if she were found to be on the floor so suddenly. 

“Mrs. Wayne!” One of the members of the board appeared. “Vivian, heading up?”

Vivian kept the smile, “Hi William. Yes, I'm going to see Bruce.”

“Special visit?” He gave a suggestive look.

“No. We have a meeting with the Wayne Foundation for the charity event this coming Friday.”

“Is that so?”

She hoped that was the end of it or that the elevator would end their talk but William hopped into the elevator just as she was going to press the doors to close. William Earle was one of the people Vivian didn't like that much that was part of Wayne Enterprises’ board. Since she started coming over he would always make rude comments, such as, “you should come over more and loosen up Bruce. I'll be sure to fill in on some of his meetings.” She hasn't told Bruce about William Earle's little conversation starters but Bruce was well aware of Vivian's dislike towards the man.

“By the way, I saw the article on the Gazette,” said William.

“Did you now?”

“I don't really see the problem, I mean come on. Every married man knows this – happy wife, happy life.” He laughed.

Vivian didn't laugh. Is that what they all think of her in Wayne Enterprise?

“Professor Pryor!” Lucius entered the elevator and stood between her and William, to her delight.

“Lucius, wonderful to see you,” Vivian greeted him sincerely.

“Heading to the Wayne Foundation meeting?”

“I am.”

The elevator finally closed and they were heading up. 

“Then I guess we're heading the same way then,” Lucius offered his arm to her.

Vivian laughed lightly and wrapped her arm with the man's. “Good thing you are, I don't think I'll have much patience in these things. I’m all in for doing but planning the whole thing, I just get lost.”

“That's what we're here for, Professor Pryor. You and Mr. Wayne dream it, and we'll do the grunt work on making it happen.”

“I promise to help out as much as I can, Lucius.”

“Your expertise and your presence alone in those events are more than enough. And I believe you've provided the list of collectors who are looking to sell — I never knew you were well acquainted with Rossi.”

“Rossi?” William tried to chime in.

“Sebastian Rossi – he's an Italian artist whose paintings have agreed to put some of his private works to auction. A fixed portion, of course, will go to him, but the rest will be put in the Wayne Foundation.”

“It just so happens Sebastian Rossi is a professor in art history as well, and I went to his lectures when I was still in uni.”

“Did you now?” Lucius said. “Well, Mr. Wayne does have his network in Gotham's elite and powerful, and sciences, but you Professor brings the classics to our doorstep.”

“Somebody has to keep Wayne Enterprise from becoming some robotic corporation.”

They arrived at their floor, and Vivian and Lucius said goodbye to William as they went to Bruce's office.

“Saved your behind from an awkward elevator ride, didn't I Professor?” Lucius teased.

“Yes, and you are my hero today, Lucius,” Vivian sighed. “I'm sure you've seen the article on the Gazette?”

“Everyone has. It's probably one of the reasons why Bruce is a little distracted today at our nine-o'clock. Don't worry, your husband might have his mind preoccupied but he still manages to operate well.”

Vivian sighed. “I am trying to keep an upbeat attitude.”

“I'm sure the charity event will change some perspectives in the coming future.”

“I hope so.”

Entering Bruce's office, they saw the man deep in work while taking a call on his bluetooth earpiece. The moment they opened the door, he told the person at the other line that he'll call them back later then stood to greet Lucius and Vivian.

“Lucius,” Bruce said to the man and then turned to Vivian and kissed her cheek, “Viv, I guess it's time for the meeting.”

“Yes, it is,” Vivian told him.

“But Marge usually takes her time with preparing our coffee. I'll head over to make sure everything is alright. You can come after ten minutes, Mr. Wayne, Professor Pryor,” Lucius said and left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Vivian turned to Bruce and said, “Marge doesn’t take too much time with preparing coffee.”

“No, she does not. But I appreciate Lucius’ efforts in giving us some time alone. It's been a busy week.”

“Both in your day job and night job,” Vivian placed her bag on the seat and leaned back on his desk. Bruce stood before her and removed the tie that's keeping her hair to a bun, then massaged her scalp.

“That feels nice,” she hummed. “How's your day?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“You saw.”

“You should have told me.”

“I just don't want to think more about it. But going through that procession just to get to the elevator didn't help. William Earle didn't help either. Is that what I'm reduced to? A wife you got to please so I'd drop by your office to give you head before a meeting?”

Bruce frowned. “And you said you weren't thinking about it too much,” he leaned down and placed each of his hands on the table to cage her there. “Hey… for better and for worse, remember?” Vivian smiled and pressed her forehead on his. “And your shit is my shit too.” She laughed. 

“Why did we even add that to our vows?”

“It was your idea, and I think it's romantic. But you get the gist.”

“Of course, it was my idea,” Vivian brushed her nose against his and closed her eyes. “I miss the times we sneak around and act like we're good at it.”

“You're not just my wife Vivian, and nor are you just someone I please to get a good fuck. You're my partner in everything. Your achievements are your own and you’ve made a name for yourself in your field, and I am proud of you for it. And you put up with me and the demands of my other life.”

Vivian smiled, she slung her arms around his neck and enjoyed his company. “I should get an award for that. You don't see anyone else who supports their husband and their nightly hobbies of running around in a costume. Let alone a bat costume. And also consulting him and his friends on their Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.”

Bruce chuckled. “I'll get you a plaque for it.”

The door of his office opened and Bruce had to remove himself from his wife, displeased, to face them. It was William Earle. 

“Whoah, didn't mean to walk-in on you both like that,” he joked.

Vivian rolled her eyes, luckily Bruce was big enough to hide her from William's view.

“Will, what brings you here?” Bruce asked.

“Lucius has everyone in the conference room now.”

“But you're not in that meeting.”

He wasn't, but William Earle has always been a suckup.

William shrugged, “Saw them ready for you and thought why not save Marge the hassle of walking all the way here to tell you, you know.”

“Thanks, William,” Vivian got off the table and took her bag. “We'll head there now.”

Taking Bruce's offer of his arm, Vivian and him left the office and went straight to the meeting.

~*~

Veronica Vreeland was one of the few people that Vivian would call a real friend of Bruce Wayne. She remembered meeting the woman after Bruce said his friend demanded they have a double date with her now ex-husband. It was fun getting to know Veronica, and while the two of them were complete opposites, they found some common ground that became the foundation of their friendship. 

Which was dress shopping.

Vivian always loved clothes. She remembered going to the shopping district in Liverpool with her mother and going through the thrift shops to find clothes she liked for a cheap price, then Madeline would fix them up or alter them to fit her preference. For a time she learned how to use a sewing machine just to alter her existing clothes to styles she always wanted, and she did the same for her siblings when they started to become picky with their clothes. 

Oliver was more of the tweed jackets and white shirts and trousers.

Olivia liked rock and roll.

Vivian preferred to sew Olivia's clothes since it was more ripped than actually attached. 

When she got a job, the first paycheck she got, Vivian bought a really nice blazer – not from a thrift shop but a new one that fits her perfectly. It served her for years into her profession until it no longer fits. Later, she started buying clothes that would fit her profession and have that Dan Brown's Robert Langdon aesthetic.

Then she started seeing Bruce Wayne who invited her to galas and fancy dinners, and charity events, and press runways, and she had to look into more appropriate clothes. Luckily, her first gala event as Bruce’s date happened after she met Veronica Vreeland, and the woman invited her to go dress shopping before the event, and got a really nice dress that – in her words – “would have Bruce begging they head home before they even get to the venue.”

Now, here they were again, looking through luxury brand stores for a dress for the upcoming charity auction they were hosting at Wayne Manor. It was a Saturday which meant Tim had time to go through cases in the cave than be a kid, which had Vivian dragging him through their shopping with a video game to play with. 

“You are probably the only kid who I will ever enable to play video games instead of studying,” she told him as she handed him a video game and told him to sit at the bench.

“Or I could just play video games at home,” Tim said.

“Yeah, with Alfred coordinating with the caterer, Bruce at work, and me here, so you're unsupervised and can go to the basement to study? No.”

Tim groaned and took the game. 

Now standing before the mirrors trying out the dress that Veronica picked out, she did a good turn to see how it looked on her. Before she could give her opinion, Veronica told their assistant for the day, “No. She's a world renowned professor in symbology and iconography – in basic terms she's damn smart. Not eye-candy. She's the host for the event, not the hubby's accessory.”

“Of course, we'll find something that might interest us.”

After changing out of the dress and back to the robe that was provided, Vivian laid on the couch beside Veronica and sighed. On cue, the woman handed her a glass of champagne and a slice of cake. 

“Thanks for that,” Vivian said.

“No problem,” Veronica took Vivian's legs and had them on her lap, making the latter laugh. “I hate it when they always choose the dresses my grandmother would wear or whatever Rebecca Fallbrook as in her closet.”

“Which is?”

“The most clothing you'll see on her is probably the Princess Jasmine costume she wore on that New Year's Eve party. And I mean the red Princess Jasmine costume.”

They both laughed at the memory and drank their champagne. 

“I miss shopping with you, Ronie,” Vivian sighed. 

“Well, you've been busy.”

“And you've been on so many honeymoons now that I rarely see you in the country.”

Veronica smirked. “Those honeymoons got you that fantastic fur coat from St. Petersburg and that beautiful coat from Italy, mind you. So, what's up, Vivian Pryor-Wayne? Four years into the marriage… how's living with Gotham's snobs?”

A long and dragging sight. “I miss not being labeled an alcoholic whenever I order beer at ten in the morning. I also miss not seeing my face on the headlines of some tabloid being called as a gold digger.”

Veronica gave her a sympathetic look. “Gotham press and Gotham's socialite are not that welcoming to new money – or those who marry into its circle. They know they can't do anything to you because of Bruce, so they pay the media to do the shaming.”

“I miss Liverpool. There people can call each other wankers and get on with their day. None of this backstabbing shit.”

“Did you stab them when they're looking?”

“Usually.”

Veronica laughed. “If only Gotham is like your little neighborhood in Liverpool… but I hope this doesn't get between you and Bruce though.”

“It doesn't. He has been extra loving lately, and while I enjoy his morning greetings,” Tim mimicked someone vomiting, “I just want this to die down. I mean, I enjoy the gesture but he can't always go on his knees just to cheer me up, right?”

“VIVIAN!” Tim covered his ears with pillows.

“What do you expect? It's Bruce, he likes to please people. But seriously, Viv. Anything you need, I'm here — even if it means trashing someone's car to let out some steam�� say Rebecca Fallbrook? Listen, I think this is just going out because you're hosting this event for the Wayne Foundation, and people are not happy that you've been getting good media publicity from the Daily Planet and the press in general. I can smell a rich-man's bribe anywhere.”

Vivian sighed and pulled Tim so she could mess with his hair. It always calms her to do that with her boys. And Tim doesn't mind, it was a free head-massage.

Before Vivian could say anything, the store assistants came back with some outfits that she would like. On in particular caught her eye, and both her and Veronica pointed at it and said, “that one.”

Later that day, a photo went around Gotham Gazette’s page and social platforms with an article that highlights her and Veronica, mentioning that she was once again cashing in Bruce's money with luxury clothes. Vivian slammed her laptop shut and counted the days until the auction. Once that's done all of this would be over… until the next event.

~*~

The grand hall was packed with Gotham's socialite, the press, and guests who show expertise on the pieces that Sebastian has finally opened up to sell. As everyone was socializing downstairs, Vivian watched from the railing as she tried to look for someone she knew so she could run to them immediately and not get caught in all the whole small talk. She saw Veronica there but she was conversing with Suzie Vanaver and Heather Earle, who were not the most welcoming in their little circle. Veronica called them snobs and would rather have champagne at the corner but she was forced by her father to interact with them and be a “good girl” for the evening. And not hunting for husband #4.

“You look like you're playing that crane game we went to with Ms. Vreeland the other day,” Tim said to her as he came out with Bruce. Both wearing matching tuxes that complimented her white jumpsuit. 

“Don't you look handsome,” she told Tim. “I saw Bernard down there, why don't you save him from getting his cheeks pinched by old ladies.”

“You don’t have to bribe a friend so I can give you both some alone time you know,” Tim snickered and left.

Alone, Bruce took Vivian's hand that's been fiddling with Jason's locket and smiled sadly. Even in death, Vivian still finds comfort with Jason's memory. He took her hand and kissed the wedding band and her engagement ring before kissing her lips. 

“You look fantastic,” he told her.

“I’m a complete mess,” she sighed. “It's weird how I know everyone in this room, I can smile and talk to them but I feel utterly alone.”

“But you're not,” Bruce told her. His eyes glanced over her should an the crowd as he said, “and I think you'll be happy to see someone in this crowd right now.” He had her turn around to see.

Waving frantically from below, where he gained looks from the other guests, Sebastian Rossi called out to Vivian with a grin, “Bella! Vivian!” Rossi called for her with his thick Italian accent.

Vivian laughed and waved at him, “Professore Rossi!”

Sebastian Rossi gestured for her to come down. Taking Bruce's hand, they both went to greet the artist who was accompanied by some of her colleagues who were apologizing to the others he surprised with his loud entrance.

“Professore Rossi,” Vivian greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. “How was the flight?” She asked in Italian.

“Professor Vivian Pryor – eh!” Sebastian caught himself, “Professor Vivian Pryor-Wayne, I hear now.”

“Yes,” she then switched to English as she introduced Bruce. “My husband, Bruce Wayne.”

“The lucky man,” Rossi laughed as she shook Bruce's hand.

“Indeed. It's nice to meet you as an artist and as Vivian's good friends. How was the flight?”

“Very appreciated – I think I enjoyed it too much in first class. Now, I heard you have adopted a few boys. I brought presents,” he took out three wrapped boxes from his bag. “I remember reading about it in our emails. The youngest, where is he?”

Bruce called for Tim from the snackbar and had him come over. 

“Ah, you are Tim. Yes?”

“Yeah,” Tim said.

“For you. Vivian said that you liked puzzles, so I got you something to get you off the video games.”

Tim snickered and turned to Vivian. “Look at that, an intellectual game that a normal kid could play that’s not a video game. Thank you, Professor Rossi.”

Rossi patted him on the head – messing up his hair – and had him returning to where he was finishing all the snacks with Bernard. “Now, Richard?”

“Dick's not –”

“Here, I am,” Dick crossed the crowd, all dressed up for the night. “Bruce said it was your event, I can't miss that.”

Vivian smiled and thanked him. “I'm glad you're here, kiddo.”

“Here, my boy. I did the math – mind you I am not a mathematician so I made a good guess on your age. So, here. From Tuscany – Italy's wine region.”

“Thank you… hold on, when you said bad in math, how old did you think I was?”

Rossi shrugged. “Sixteen?”

“He'd be underage. He won't be allowed to drink then,” said Bruce.

Rossi scoffed. “I've been drinking wine since I was Timothy's age.”

“An exaggeration,” Vivian reassured the people around them.

“But thanks,” Dick said. 

“Now. I know that Jason is gone, but he will always be here with you. Here, for you and Mr. Wayne. It is a replica of the Argo — you know, Jason and the Argonauts.”

“Thank you, Professor. This means so much…” she gestured for Alfred to come and the butler approached them and held out his hand to take the gift.

“I'll put this in his old room,” he told her.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Vivian said before he left. “This means so much, Professor –”

“There is more.”

“Please, no more. You have already given so much.”

“No, no! For my favorite student – do not tell the others that –”

“We're right here,” said Kirk. “We were also your students during our semester in Italy.”

“— I made you something for your wedding. I was supposed to give it to you during the celebration but I ran out of time. I can't give it to you now but I had it transported here along with my other works.”

“Please don't tell me Sebastian Rossi just made us a painting as a wedding gift,” whispered Bruce.

“I think he did.”

“And you do know that a Rossi costs about at least six million dollars in the market, right?”

“I know,” Vivian whispered. “And I thought getting him to pour me wine is an honor enough.”

“Here,” Rossi showed the catalog, specifically at the painting. “For your personal collection.”

“Thank you, Professor Rossi,” Vivian said. “This means so much.”

“Specifically around six million dollars,” Dick whispered to Bruce. “Did this add another zero into your joint account?”

“It did,” Bruce answered.

“Now, I shall leave you to your event,” Rossi said.

“No, you are the guest of honor, I would be a rude host to leave you just like that,” Vivian had her arm around her old friend and brought him around to meet Lucius Fox and the others.

The auction went smoothly with Vivian giving an opening speech to discuss more about Rossi's works, and a few words from the artist himself, then everyone was bidding to get a hold on one of Italy's rising artists whose paintings cost just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It ended when Bruce himself purchased a painting called Aphrodite Urania Seducing Ares where the goddess is depicted to be having red hair and is naked as she bathed in sea water, and at the side the god of war was watching with lustful eyes.

“I think we both know why Bruce bought that painting,” Dick said as he removed his hand off of Tim and Bernard's eyes when the photo of the painting was no longer on display.

“You don't say? You think he'll put it in their bedroom?” Tim muttered.

“I know he will.”

With the auction finished, people enjoyed the afterparty and got to know the artist who they just made very rich. As Rossi spoke with Bruce and the others, Vivian was whisked away by Veronica who teased her about the last painting which Bruce bought.

“That wasn't me,” Vivian told her. “Okay, technically that wasn't me, it was a model, but Rossi admitted he made the hair red on purpose because he really liked my red hair.”

Veronica laughed. “Tell me where Bruce is going to put it, alright?”

“Please don't tease him about it.”

“Viv, that's what friends are for. We tease you but with good intentions. It keeps you grounded.”

“Thank you for coming tonight, Ronnie. And for buying that piece,” Vivian sighed. “I don't know how I would have gotten through this night without you.”

“You would have. I barely talked to you, Viv.”

“Well, you kept the hoard from getting me tonight.”

Veronica laughed. “That's what I do… congratulations, Vivian. Now, go and mingle with the other rich people in Gotham. Remember, it's the connections that give you power.”

“I will,” Vivian said and went to the direction of some of the families who bought a piece from tonight. “Mr. Vanaver, Mr. Fallbrook, I'm glad that you're enjoying the evening.”

“Mrs. Wayne, good to see you,” Patrick Vanaver said.

“I hope you're happy with your purchases for tonight.”

“Not as happy as Wayne, though,” Oscar Lawford snickered. “He got the best one there is. Right, Viv?”

Vivian breathed through her nose and reminded herself about the network and the image she needed to keep. “I remember when Professor Rossi was still halfway through painting it – he was having trouble on Aphrodite's hair and then one day he just made it red to make her stand out.”

“Is that right? He just suddenly decided to make the goddess of love and sex have red-hair, huh?” Said Patrick. Vivian frowned. “You know, Professor, we really thought you were one of those quiet type of girls. We never thought you to be well acquainted with big people.”

Vivian forced a smile. “It's part of the job. Traveling, meeting people.”

“You know, I'm a painter myself, not as good as Professor Mario over there, but I can do a decent piece. How about you model for me on a piece” said Patrick.

“Excuse me?” Vivian's brows furrowed. 

“Come on now, Viv. It's just a joke,” said Oscar Lawford.

“You know, I can understand why Bruce wanted that painting. I can see it now.”

Vivian looked at him for a moment then did something that certainly would stick to every Gothamite in this event. She took Patrick Vanaver and Oscar Lawford's drinks and handed them to the nearest server on sight. Before they could question what she was doing, she asked the same man to tell the person at the coats and the valet to get Mr. Vanaver and Mr. Lawford's coats.

“What the hell, Viv?” Oscar told her.

“Don't Viv me. It's either Pryor or Mrs. Pryor-Wayne. While I do appreciate your attendance and we appreciate your donation to the cause, I would humbly ask for you to get out of my house.”

Silence came to the room and everyone was looking Vivian.

“Viv, come on it's a joke!” Oscar scoffed.

“Professor Pryor, the valet are now bringing Mr. Lawford and Mr. Vanaver's vehicles to the front, Ma'am,” Alfred came to her side. “Your coats will be waiting for you at the front,” he told the two men.

“What the – Wayne, are you hearing this right now?” Patrick turned to Bruce who was marching up to their space.

Bruce went to Vivian's side and only looked at the two men, joining him were Dick and Tim who looked at them with menacing glares. “Vivian is the Mistress of Wayne Manor, Patrick. She runs this house. What she says goes. I'm sure the valet already has your cars at the front. And don't worry about Suzie and Heather, they can stay. We'll personally secure their mode of transportation home.”

“Bruce, you can't be serious!” Oscar scoffed.

“Trust me. I am. And Oscar, Patrick,” Bruce towered over them and said in a threatening tone, “Insult my wife again and I swear… it will be the last. Don't think I didn't hear what you said to her along with the anonymous writer you have contacted in the Gazette.”

Vivian smirked. “We thank you for your donation to the Wayne Foundation, gentlemen. And we'll make sure that your paintings will reach your homes securely.”

“Now,” Dick spoke. “Get out.”

The two men turned to their wives and told them to come along, and they did, both embarrassed with what had happened. As soon as they were in their cars, Tim and Bernard ran up to the front with a couple of tomatoes – which Vivian magically conjured discreetly from the kitchen and handed to the boys – and threw it at the two men's windshields. The boys laughed and high-fived as the men started cursing and wiping the tomatoes using their expensive scarves.

“Are you alright, my love?” Bruce asked Vivian.

“Yes,” Vivian sighed. “I am now – a lot better since last week.” Since that article she saw.

“Scotch, neat, Ma'am,” Alfred handed Vivian her favorite drink.

“Thank you, Alfred. I can always count on you for this. And,” she turned to Bruce, smiling, “I can always count on you to have my back.”

“Partners, remember?” Bruce leaned down and kissed her softly.

“Well,” Veronica approached them. “Demure and commanding, I am proud of you, Vivian. The hulking husband is a nice touch, too, Bruce.”

“Ronnie,” Bruce greeted her. 

“What do you think is going to happen after that?” Vivian asked them. 

“Public shaming, give the Vanavers and the Lawfords a couple of days out of the sun – maybe a vacation to their villas – and they'll be back. Scarred and won't dare to come near you, but still close enough to be in the inner circles of Gotham's socialite,” Veronica answered.

“That's nice to hear,” said Vivian.

“Congratulations, Professor Pryor, you now know the ways on how to say ‘fuck you’ like a snobbish Gotham elite,” Veronica clinked her wine glass with Vivian's scotch. 

Tim and Bernard returned, both grinning from ear to ear.

“We got them good,” Tim said.

Vivian knelt down and kiss his cheek. “Thanks, detective.”

“Vivian!” Tim groaned and tried to push her away but couldn't as she had a good hold, making Bernard laugh at him.

[monsterhugger]

the thing abt tumblr being self-curated is that when ur dash is full of weird bullshit. you did that. "ugh i'm sick of seeing people i follow circulate these batshit conspiracies" have you considered maybe not following them

[house-in-the-backyard-trees]

wrote this song called I guess i'm fine a few days before what would've been my baby cousin's third birthday. we hadn't been invited to his baby sister's baby shower bc there was this stupid drama with his mom's mom (my aunt) and I had really been struggling (still do) with feelings of being excluded by them for something that my mom did. I wrote this song in October of 2019. we still don't talk.

it was about how I felt like I was dying bc I had just gotten through the year long isolation, found solace in my cousins who were living with my aunt at the time, and then all of the sudden I couldn't visit them anymore. and all of their lives went on fine without me. and all of the holidays we used to go to my aunt's house, we stayed home. but it was alright. I guess I was fine.

favorite lyrics

and I wish we could go back to how it was before when I could just walk right inside your door but it's not quite that simple, no, not anymore. so I swallow my thoughts and wish it was your pride while I spend another holiday alone but it's alright. I guess i'm fine

i look back at all those bridges that were burned but I can't think of any lessons that I learned.

i dream that we're fine but I know that can't be cause how are you fine when you can't even speak?

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

[yueebby]

indulge me? — gojo satoru

synopsis you and gojo go on an overnight mission and it goes wrong in every way

contents so. much. pining. (2.8k words of it!?), one bed trope, whipped!gojo, ooc gojo, completely self indulgent, a lot of cardiovascular talk, they’re first years in this!

notes first time i’ve written in AGES. sorry :3 ps this is a little snippet from a satosugu x reader series im thinking about starting. thoughts?

(edit: i wrote a part ii)

Gojo Satoru was born blessed. From birth and to death he will always be honored. It wasn't his fault that the Heavens delighted in him. So when Yaga had announced that he and you would be sharing an overnight mission to Kyushu, he nearly leapt in joy (lucky him)!

You, on the other hand, were less than thrilled to find out that you were going to be traveling alone with Gojo Satoru. For two whole days. It was a death sentence.

“Make sure to text me, so I know you're not dead.” Shoko looks between you and Gojo. Either your head will implode as a result of Gojo, or he is gonna be on the receiving end of your wrath. Shoko can’t wait to see which.

“Do take pictures, I heard the onsens there are incredible.” Suguru slyly adds. Satoru perks up at his comment. The two of them share a knowing look before Gojo speaks up.

“Wanna take a dip with me once we get there, [Name]?” He looks into your eyes, his lips are quirked upwards like he’s up to no good (which he is). “I promise I won’t take a peek!” He winks.

“Keep fantasizing, Gojo.”

“Oh I will.” He hums happily. The smile on his lips is kind of cute, you decide. Just a little.

— — — — — — — 

Kurokawa, you come to find out is a very small town in Kyushu. So when people start to go missing, the entire town falls into shambles. Before your trip, Yaga had made it known the enemy you’d be facing. 

“A common denominator of the missing persons is that they were all young women.” He had warned you and Gojo. “It’s an unidentified curse, but I trust that the two of you will be able to handle it.”

Three missing girls. All under the age of 25. Two of which were locals, one being a tourist. 

The moment you arrive on the island of Kyushu, your guard is higher than ever. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of some horny curse,” He looks down at you as the two of you make your way down a small street to your ryokan. Kurokawa was a traditional town, its pride resting on the old culture causing it to be untouched by modern architecture.

Unamused by his nonchalant attitude, you decide to ignore his vulgar comment, “What grade curse do you think we’re up against?”

He makes a noise to show that he’s thinking. “Does it really matter? It’ll be no match for me either way.”

You roll your eyes, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, we still have to figure out what happened to the victims.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary, but okay.” Your snow haired peer dismisses. It makes you a bit envious that he doesn’t have to ever feel fear for his life. Must be nice.

The two of you arrived at your designated ryokan soon enough, it was a small town after all. Gojo leads the way with you following right after. You can’t discern any cursed energy in the building, but you still make a mental note to ask Gojo about it after you both are situated. 

An elderly lady in an orange kimono stood behind the desk, smiling at you and you returned it back happily.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a young couple here.” She says. That’s right, with the recent disappearance of young girls, there would be a sudden decrease of tourism around this part of town. “You certainly are a beautiful match!”

You gratefully accept her compliment, “Thank you, but we’re not–”

“Thanks granny!” Gojo wraps a strong arm around your shoulder. “I don’t know how I even managed to win her over!” There’s a wide grin on his face that makes your eye twitch. Leave it to him to tell people the two of you were together. Not only that but he totally disrespected the old lady with his informal talk!

“Unhand me, you!” You forcefully whisper at him, while trying to unwrap yourself from his hold. His arm does not budge even as you try to push it off. What the hell is this boy eating? Gojo chuckles with the old lady while you struggle.

“My, the two of you remind me so much of my husband and I in the days of our youth,” She sighs dreamily. Her age must be interfering with her memory because there was nothing inherently romantic going on between you and Gojo. “How long will you be staying here?”

“Only one night,” Gojo decides that he has tormented you enough and lets you go. He slides her his card and she pulls out something from the old wooden counter she stands behind. 

A single key.

Your eyes bug out. Gojo’s eyebrows raise. You laugh nervously, face feeling warmer than it was thirty seconds ago.

“There must have been a misunderstanding. We need two rooms, ma’am.” You hold up two fingers to emphasize your point. 

The smile on the old woman’s face falls, “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Your jaw drops.

“Huh? Why not?” You press on further. Surely they could not have been booked out of all of their rooms. Tourism is at an all time low after the strange disappearances.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the strange disappearances in the area. It’s a miracle the two of you have even decided to stay here, which I am very grateful for. That is why I must repay you back by ensuring your safety. Otherwise I must ask you to leave and stay in the next town because I will not allow you to endanger yourself so carelessly.” 

You blink. Neighboring town? That was hours away. The curse was here in Kurokawa. You can’t afford to jeopardize a mission just because of your own feelings.

Gojo’s hand is halfway to the key, but he waits for your approval. You sigh.

“It’s fine, we can do one. Thank you.” You bow your head. She smiled apologetically as she handed Gojo the key. Gojo, unbothered by the revelation, whistles happily as the lady leads the way to your suite.

— — — — — — — 

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

Gojosatowu added getosugu, shoko.ieiri

Gojosatowu You wont believe it!!! shoko.ieiri What the hell is this gc And what the hell is Operation satoru x [name]?  getosugu  how come [name] isn’t in this? Gojosatowu Ladies, ladies, one question at a time please getosugu  Expect a forehead flick for that comment shoko.ieiri  Stfu and just answer the questions Gojosatowu alright alright [name] and i are sharing a room in kyushu!! i may come out of this mission a changed man. shoko.ieiri  someone make sure [name] is still alive and well Gojosatowu I dont appreciate your lack of faith in me >:( shoko.ieiri  Keep a six feet distance from her at all times perv Gojosatowu I might have to for my own sanity. What do you think she wears to bed? shoko.ieiri  You disgust me sometimes getosugu  Only sometimes? shoko.ieiri  Let me correct myself. You disgust me. Gojosatowu Im feeling the love :(

“What are you giggling to yourself about?” You place a hand on your hips as you watch Gojo smile at his flip phone.

“Oh don’t you worry about it,” He closes it. Weird. “What’s the living situation?”

You sigh. “Despite its traditional arrangement, there is a bed.”

Gojo perks up. “Yeesh I’m glad! If I had to sleep on the floor my back would be all sore right on a mission. Y'know how annoying that is?”

You suck your teeth. “Allow me to rephrase myself. There is only one bed.” 

There is an awful silence in the room, save for your erratically beating heart. Of course the old woman decided to place you in a couple’s suite.  

“Heh.” Gojo chortles happily. “Wow, this must be a divine sign from God Himself. I mean, who are we to ignore this?”

“Don’t start,” You hold out an accusatory finger at him. “I’m gonna go request an extra futon.”

He pouts, “Don’t be like that, sharing a bed with me can’t be that bad.”

“I’m willing to bet otherwise.” You walk past him. The white haired boy watches you go like a sad puppy.

— — — — — — — 

You took your time getting an extra futon, using it as an excuse to get all of the nervousness out of your system of sharing the same room as Gojo Satoru. Sharing a room with a boy was already bad enough, but Gojo? Your heart skipped a beat (out of nervousness, you insist!).

By the time you make it back to the room, the lights are out. You assume that Gojo decided to go to sleep early. You don’t blame him. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day of hunting for the curse rampaging Kurokawa. 

The only light source in the room is coming from the bathroom. You sigh. The idiot must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Nonetheless, you were gonna go get unready either way so you make your way to the half open door.

On the sink is a complimentary toothbrush that you help yourself to. You apply some paste and–

There is a sound of something sliding shut from behind you. You look up at the mirror. Standing behind you was Gojo. Wet. And naked. 

“Oh my gosh!” You spit out your toothpaste and ran out of the room. How did you fail to see that Gojo was in the restroom? You blame it on the sliding doors separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom. Oh my gosh. Your face feels like it’s on fire. He has a six pack. And why does his stupid hair look like that when it's wet? Your heart was beating at an abnormal rate. This is so inappropriate.

Shortly after your freakout, Gojo steps out of the bathroom. There was no way you could face him now.

“Aw, don't be so shy now. It’s not like this will be the last time you’ll see me like this.” Gojo stands in the doorway. There is a towel wrapped around his waist, still leaving him indecent in your eyes.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating Gojo! And lock the door when you’re in the restroom you creep!” You look anywhere but him.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault, was it? You were taking so long I thought you left me here alone.” You can practically hear him pouting. “Either way, you were the one checking me out.”

Your eyes widen, “I was not checking you out! Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t feel ashamed, this can all be yours,” He gestures down to his body.

“You freak.” you blanch.

He winks at you.

This was going to be a long night.

— — — — — — — 

It takes you about half an hour to calm down from the bathroom catastrophe. By now, you’re situated in your futon while Gojo is tucked on the bed. If you had to guess, it’d be nearing midnight around now. You just need to close your eyes and get some sleep before your mission tomorrow.

Except you can’t sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, your mind betrays you and an image of Gojo post shower illustrates itself in your mind. And it doesn’t help that he sleeps shirtless. You seriously need your mind cleansed.

That wasn’t your only issue. The room was sub zero. Who knew traditional ryokans had such advanced air conditioning systems? All you could hear was the air conditioning machine overworking itself. You could even argue that it was colder than Shoko’s morgue. And your sleep shirt and shorts were doing little to help insulate you. 

“Wanna come cuddle with me?” The last person you wanted to hear from breaks the silence. You pretend to be asleep. “I know you’re not asleep! My six eyes tell me that you’re shivering.” Busted.

“I am not cuddling with you.” You stare at the ceiling above you, arms crossed. How could he even propose such an idea? Has he no shame?

“Well I can’t face the old granny here if my girlfriend ends up dead by freezing!”

“I am not your girlfriend, Gojo. Nor will I die.”

“That’s not what she thinks. Plus we have a mission tomorrow, so I can’t have you getting sick on me now.”

“I’ll be fine, Gojo. Now go to sleep.”

“I run hot when I sleep, y’know. Let me be your personal heater.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning.

“I refuse.”

“Well I refuse your refusal.”

You blink.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Now c'mon,” He pats the spot next to him. “I’ll even make a wall in between us.”

You hear the bedsheets shuffle and you have to sit up to see that Gojo was stacking two pillows in the middle of the bed to prove his point. You’re nearly certain that the only thing you’ll be catching soon is a headache if you keep up with his antics. It was a tempting offer, one that you would surely accept if it wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Gojo, I—”

“...Please?” His voice is softer than you have ever heard it. It was unfair how Gojo was making it harder and harder to reject his offer.

A silent moment passes by.

“...Fine,” You reluctantly get up from your pathetic excuse of a futon. “But no funny business!” You warn him. 

You see Gojo perk up from the bed. He looks at you with expectant eyes, “You got it!” He gives you a thumbs up. 

Whatever. If Gojo knew what was best for him, he wouldn’t try anything. You take in a deep breath before turning to face the opposite direction of where Gojo laid. 

“Good night [Name],” You hear Gojo whisper. You sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight Gojo.”

Eyes closed, you pray a silent prayer that everything will be fine for the remainder of the mission.

— — — — — — — 

Ever since Gojo was young, his body has been used to getting little amounts of sleep. Unsurprisingly, that caused him to have a natural alarm. It was always annoying whenever he woke up at the crack of dawn on a day when he didn't need to, but luckily for him, today it proved to be a blessing. There was an unfamiliar warmth radiating onto his body. Satoru opens his eyes.

He thinks he feels all of his six eyes widen when he feels himself wrapped around another body.

There you were, in all your beauty, lying fast asleep. In his embrace. Soft snores were escaping your mouth and there were stray hairs in your face. Did he mention how beautiful you looked sleeping? He might have to ask Shoko about heart disease because of how fast his heart was beating.

Unfortunately for him, you also seemed to be drifting away from dreamland and back to reality. Your eyes flutter and your eyebrows furrow. Gojo takes this to his advantage and does the worst thing he can think of; pretend to be asleep.

When you wake up, your mind is still hazy from the good night’s rest you had gotten, but not hazy enough to realize that your body was tangled with another’s. And you’re pretty sure the pillow you had been laying on last night was not this hard. You try to delude yourself into believing that this is all a dream, but the effects of your sleep were fading.

It takes all the strength in you to summon the courage to open your eyes. To your horror, you were firmly wrapped in Gojo’s arms and your legs were intertwined.

“What the hell?” You pull yourself away from him. On the floor below the bed laid the two pillows that Gojo had set up as a makeshift wall. You stare at them utter shock.

“No, don’t go, I’ll freeze to death,” Gojo whines, miraculously waking up. You glare at him.

“Explain to me what just happened or I swear Gojo, I’m going to–” You try to threaten him, but you can’t seem to formulate anything.

Unlike you, Gojo looked unbothered by the sudden turn of events. He even looked pleased. There was a lopsided smile on his face as he sighed, “What can I say, I guess you subconsciously want me after all.” 

"I do not—"

“But if I had to guess, I’d say the room got too cold and we most likely cuddled for warmth unconsciously.” He shrugs it off like it was no big deal. You note that his hair is tousled from the night before.

You leave the warm bed you and Gojo had made. His theory was probably true, meaning it was neither of your faults. You purse your lips.

“I suppose that makes sense. I apologize for overreacting, I guess I was under the impression that we had done something lewd last night.” With that comment, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up both your mind and body.

You don’t end up seeing how red Gojo’s face got. It was foreign to feel all the blood rising to his cheeks. He takes one of his hands to slap it over his eyes before chuckling to himself. Yeah, he definitely knows why he likes you. 

All of a sudden Gojo feels like he’s on top of the world. For you, it was just a moment of weakness.

┊⋆｡˚. ੈ ┊

Extra notes:

gojo wished he and you got to go to the onsen together. 

gojo also regretted not taking a photo of you sleeping soundly in his arms. it would’ve been his new wallpaper. 

for the remainder of the trip, gojo was at an all time high, successfully locating and exorcising the curse in less than an hour.

[katzenmas]

Simon who has never fallen in love before, so when he starts catching feelings for you he thinks he's sick. He was perfectly fine a few months ago, there was nothing amiss, even now he can't exactly pinpoint when his heart started palpatating or his palms started sweating. he was never uncomfortable in his own skin, but this felt just like that! he was fidgety, his throat went dry, his face was flaring up as if he had a fever. it always happened randomly, the only common denominator? you. It was crazy! you and Simon have been on the same task force for about four years now, he was doing just fine before. slowly befriending you and keeping a civil relationship with you. He thinks it could be an allergic reaction? but why wouldn't it flare up in the previous years. It just made no sense. Simon almost drove himself crazy trying to figure it out. Even know, he was sitting in the lounge area with his elbows on his knees, face concentrated in deep thought. It was Johnny who found him trying to burn a hole through the wall with his intense gaze. ' LT? you doin' okay there?' The sudden question ripped Simon away from his thoughts. He stared at Johnny for a few minutes, the latter slowly becoming increasingly more nervous as the silence stretched between them. 'alrighty then i'll leave ya to it' ' Johnny wait' even Simon was confused with his behaviour, but maybe an outside perspective is what he needed. 'i have an...affliction' Johnny took a seat and listened to his lieutenant start explaining the situation. slowly, the gears in his mind clicked. Simon kept on rambling about how his mind goes blank, his core temperature keeps rising, the clammy palms, the shaky voice and the sudden shyness not making sense to him. Johnny just laughs, hard. ' holy hell Ghost ya in love?' the question felt like a slap in the face. Simon looked at his sargeant in disbelief, almost offended by the question. Johnny just kept smiling and asked Simon a simple question. ' when do these uh, symptoms make themselves known LT?' So Simon tells him about how he thinks he might be allergic to you, or at least some perfume or body wash you use. Johnny listens and keeps nodding, a smile never leaving his face. ' You know Ghost? This might actually be an allergy. You should talk to her and ask her about it, maybe she has more answers?' Oh Johnny was going to enjoy seeing how this would turn out.

[ashherahh]

your next major relationship

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

Cards: Seven of Wands, The Fool Rx, Five of Pentacles, Two of Cups Rx.

You're very close to achieving your goal.

Luck is on your side.

I am surprised that you actually still believe in relationships and love after the absolute shit shows of the past. You must feel like the most unlucky person when it comes to love.

Past relationships always brought out this kind of cold war with you and your partner, as though you were always at odds with your partners. Part of you felt like you were the problem for the longest time because you know, common denominator but upon more reflection, you've come to terms with the fact that you were asking the wrong people for what you need.

Those experiences hardened you. I'm seeing that it'll bleed into this next relationship to a certain degree. Your next relationship will heal a lot of those wounds of the past. You'll go from someone who always finds themselves explaining themselves and having that turn into a fight, to someone who no longer has to worry about being misunderstood.

When the cards first popped out, the messages were quite clear. Past relationships may influence your next major one, but you can always turn that around. You literally have luck on your side, your next major relationship is going to be a good one if you let it.

Love requires trust, and that might be the most difficult thing for you now but it'll be worth it.

pile 2

Cards: Two of Pentacles Rx, Two of Cups, Nine of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles Rx.

The answers you need are coming.

A time for healing.

You build something in your next relationship. Possibilities are endless, but it'll definitely redefine how you see yourself and your life. It's a leveling up in life.

Gone are the days of feeling uncertain and uncomfortable about making decisions about your life. This next major relationship kicks everything into gear, an inspiration is birthed from this union that brings you closer and closer to the life you've always dreamed of living.

It'll come in suddem but it'll last. This is a relationship you'll have for years and years, this person will be around and see you through so many phases of life.

Maybe you have some planets in the 7th house or some of them are in Libra. Those placements usually thrive in partnerships because it acts as a reflection, it helps them delve deeper. Even if you don't have those placements, that is what this relationship will be.

This will truly be a beautiful partnership. One that is filled with mutual trust and love and ways of thinking. It'll be one that is so understanding and deep. This is someone you can truly be yourself with.

pile 3

Cards: Strength, Five of Wands, The Emperor, The Moon.

Believe in the impossible.

Balance spirituality and practicality.

This will hit you like a freight train. No one truly expects to meet someone who will become an integral part of their life, it usually builds slowly over time. Not this person though, you'll know when you meet this person. It'll be so immediate and in your face, you won't be able to deny the importance this person will have going forward.

Your connection will feel surreal at times. It's giving Edward and Bella. Get a room, honestly. The emotions are big in this relationship, it's very intense. But it's the kind of partnership that is strong through all trials and tribulations.

You know you can depend on this person no matter what you face, they are solid and strong. Their strength gives you strength in a way.

This next major relationship really exhances who you are. It influences you in a way that solifies your character and who you are. The relationship is quite balanced, giving and receiving is done in great degrees and in your own unique ways.

This is not the kind of relationship you lose yourself in at all. Individualism is respected by both you and your partner.

[taegimood]

later than promised but i’ve returned for that last big dick soobin thought…

firstly: (this is ALL based on opinions because every pussy is different and everyone has different preferences/tolerances) so in a lot of fics it’s a common thing to talk abt their tip repeatedly hitting your cervix and usually it’s in the context of rougher sex but in reality, for most women/afab people, i’ve found it’s more common than not for that to actually hurt really bad when it’s rough or just too deep. some really love it and some really hate it, but either way the common denominator that i’ve heard most of us agree on is that if it’s with a gentle touch, tapping it or rubbing against it, then it feels heavenly and often brings a better/stronger orgasm..

SO ANYWAY WITH SOOBIN,,,,, i stand by the hc that he has one of the biggest dicks in the industry 😐☝🏼 he’s certainly the biggest you’ve ever had — i can imagine how worried he’d be about hurting you, and since the cervix changes positions depending on your monthly cycle, i think when you and soobin first start having sex there’s probably some trial and error.. what he did a couple of weeks ago didn’t hurt but suddenly he’s doing the same thing and you’re gasping out in pain, because your cervix is in a different position than before and his tip hit it too hard. he feels so guilty and needs a lot of convincing from you to keep trying because he never wants to see you in pain because of him again :(( but eventually, you guys discover by accident the thing that has your head reeling, and this time in a good way..

you were just cuddling at first, which then turned into kisses along your neck and heavy petting until you got to the position that you’re in now: soobin half hovering over you and two fingers deep in your pussy, sliding them in and out of you languidly with his lips pressed to yours and your tongues tangling lazily together. you moan softly into his mouth, spurring him on even further, stroking you deeper while his pace remains leisurely, making you shiver as you feel every ridge of his slender fingers. with a curve of his wrist he’s changing angles, pumping them even deeper until his fingers are in all the way up to his knuckles —

he quickly halts and pulls his lips away from yours as you gasp loudly, his eyes wide and worried as they rapidly travel across your expression with furrowed brows and a flurry of “are you okay?” and “did i hurt you again?” (☹️). but you’re shaking your head quickly, gripping his wrist to stop him as he goes to pull out — you’re out of breath from the sensation as you plead, “n-no, don’t stop.. felt.. felt so good. need it again, please, keep going, soob..”

his long fingers had gently nudged against your cervix from the deeper angle, and the orgasm that followed as he began repeating his actions was practically pornographic, and shocking to you both. so, with the realization that it actually did feel good when he touched you that deep, just at a gentler pace, you felt an all new vigor for taking his cock.

even after the orgasm he gave you, he’s unsure at first — “isn’t avoiding that part of you the whole point to begin with?” — but you insist that it’ll be okay, to just try, practically pleading as your eyes shamelessly zone in on his hard, leaking cock that he’s hesitantly pumping in his hand.

when i tell you that this would become like an all new kind of foreplay for you two……

he’s simultaneously edging and overstimulating the both of you as he drags his cock so slowly against your walls, never pulling out much but giving tiny, focused thrusts to bring his head tapping gently against your cervix, so deep inside of you that you feel utterly stuffed to the brim; he’s panting and you’re moaning at the absolute teasing that this whole sensation is. his thick cock stretching you out so good, the burn turned to pleasure; every vein rubbing against your warm, tight, gummy walls; and every time either of you feel a climax nearing, he’ll stop just in time as the two of you catch your breaths.

soobin slowly leaning down to your level, getting comfortable in a new position as you wrap your arms around him, moaning into each other’s mouths as he brings his lips to yours and begins moving his hips again.. “feels good?” he’d mumble against your lips, you nodding and whimpering back, “so good.. you’re s-so big..” and you can feel the way his cock twitches at your words. “not hurting you..?” his voice more hesitant this time, but you’re reassuring him, pulling him closer - “no, baby, making me feel SO so good, please don’t stop~” — and so he doesn’t.

gradually picking up the pace until his tip is bumping into your cervix rhythmically, the pressure taking your breath away as you wrap your trembling legs around his waist, whimpers and staccato moans coming from you both as you beg him to cum inside you, and that’s what sends him over the edge as he presses deep into your cunt with a groan — the warmth of his release makes you shiver, and you reach a shuddering climax as you feel his tip throbbing against your cervix when he finishes. you end up cumming so hard that you see white, and the rest is history.

despite all the trial and error with soobin’s monster cock, you become obsessed with the sensation of it filling you up to your pussy’s limit.. cockwarming him as he plays video games and you’re rolling your hips over his, his tip rubbing into you so deep that you end up shaking around him and soaking his lap in your cum — (he’d definitely get you to squirt at some point btw) — or whether it’s getting used to the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you while you build up familiarity with the feeling of his huge cock reaching all the deepest places of your cunt.. whatever the case, eventually you learn to fucking love feeling him so deep and you can just never get enough of your boyfriend’s big long cock and his powerful hips that he knows how to use oh so well 🤧

and when there’s no time for sex, he never says no to you bucking your hips on his long, pretty fingers as he massages them in and out of you with a thumb on your clit and a whisper in your ear of it’ll be my cock soon, baby, don’t worry — gonna fill you up so, so good.

that’s all. just you learning to take soobin’s huge size in your lil pussy <3

this thought feels almost too obscure for anyone to like it but 🤷🏻‍♀️ just had to get the soobie’s big dick kissing your cervix concept out there… also now i’m thinking about him making you squirt lol 🫠

[wolfiesmoon]

Bakery

Leona x gn!reader

ok but can we feel the love tonight tho

i learned something new recently and i want to put this knowledge to good use (smirks evilly at leona)

also i am sick asf right now so i apologise if this is sloppily proofread

It seems like being Leona's pillow has become a part of your daily at this point. It's become an unspoken routine for you.

Usually, he'd sleep anywhere but he had to adapt his sleeping habits a little because of you. Turns out most people don't find the floor of the greenhouse a comfortable napping spot.

Usually, the perfect spot is your room in Ramshackle dorm. It's quiet and empty, save for the pesky ghosts that interrupt the two of you sometimes. It makes for the perfect hiding place when Ruggie is bothering him with some stupid papers he needs to solve for potionology, too.

All in all, worth the walk to the dorm. Especially since he gets to see you and feel your warmth without fail.

You were already waiting for him on your bed, busying yourself with scrolling through your Magicam feed. Usually, you keep a few textbooks for studying with you, but exams have mostly concluded for now. You know once Leona attaches onto you, you're not going to be able to leave for atleast 2 hours, so it's always great to prepare in advance.

Sure enough, you heard familiar footsteps getting closer and the door opened to reveal your sleepy lover. His tail swished when he caught sight of you. What a lovely sight, indeed.

"Hey Leona, had a good day?" you ask casually and he sighs in response, mumbling something about being tired. Well, that's just the usual, isn't it?

He climbs up on the bed and you smile at his sleepy expression. He's so cute when he's sleepy, but you probably shouldn't tell him that unless you want to get glared at.

Instead of crashing on top of you like you're used to, though, he places his hands on your belly, still sitting at your side. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't even meet your eyes.

Suddenly, his hands start moving in a kneading motion. A surprise massage? Not that you mind it, but that's highly unusual coming from Leona of all people. If anything, it should be the other way around.

"Leona..?" you question, trying to get a good look at his face. You can't really see it well because of the hair that fell to the side of his face. But from what little you can see, he seems to be in sort of a trance right now. His eyes are barely opened and he's wearing a little satisfied smile on his face. He doesn't respond to you at all.

"Leona?" you try again, a little firmer this time. He suddenly stops, probably finally coming back to his senses. You can see the way his eyes widen for a moment before he falls down on top of you without a word, wrapping his arms around you. Now you can't see his face at all, unable to read his expression.

"Leona, what was that?" you hugged him back, still a bit dumbfounded. You weren't going to lie though, that felt really nice.

"Don't ever bring this up again." Leona did not seem in the mood to discuss what just happened any further. He could have sworn he left that behaviour behind as a toddler. How embarrasing.

He's kind of worried now. That's how much you affect him.

"Oh... uh, okay." you pet the back of his head lovingly. Hmmm... now that you think of it, Grim does the same thing sometimes. The common denominator with Grim and Leona is that they're both cats, atleast somewhat.

If you apply this knowledge to what you know about cats in general... Oh, Leona, that silly goose. Seems he's a bit embarrased about kneading on you. You wonder if it was pure instinct.

yep, turns out the big kitties knead too, ain't that just a testament to the tried and true saying "cat is cat"

[ms-demeanor]

Knowledge Fight anon again - thank you for the list and recs! I look forwatd to checking them out. I was excited to see there's a West Wing podcast because I enjoyed that show, but yourself and the hosts hate it so maybe not for me lmao. Though I will still give the first episode a listen - very curious to understand why our feeligns about the show differ so vastly. And if you -want- to rant about why you hate TWW - feel free! I'm genuinely curious - I'm European, have never lived in the US, so for me it was one of the biggest tools of learning how US politics work, which made it absolutely fascinating to watch.

Anyways! I'll be looking at the other podcasts as well, they all seem very interesting, and the common-denominator format you describe them having does jive with me. Thanks again!

My very republican father and sister very much wish that all democrats would act like the democrats in the west wing. It's touted as a point of honor and a great example of compromise when Democrat Jed Bartlett appoints a republican justice to the Supreme court, any time there's an environmentalist or a union supporter on the show they're painted as extreme and uncompromising, in the later seasons the Jimmy Smitts character is running as a democrat on a pro-school-vouchers, anti-tenure/union (so anti-public school, basically) platform, the show as a whole is against entitlements (free college especially is something the ostensible dems in the show aren't even interested in enough to lament).

Idk at a certain point it gets frustrating to see anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, anti-healthcare republicans being praised as the mature compromisers in the room with complicated motivations and good points when every time a leftist protest shows up it's a warehouse full of people without enough message discipline to talk to to cameras without erupting into a shouting match and getting brushed off as whiny babies by toby zigler.

"Oh, we need CJ to look a little loopy, let's have her agree with these cartographers who are pointing out that the mercator projection privileges the global north." "Oh we need to present something that's a ridiculous waste of money, how about a wildlife crossing that would prevent keystone species injuries in an area of urban incursion, that's bullshit that we shouldn't spend money on." "Oh, we want to explain why big pharma can't provide free HIV meds to african nations in 2003, let's suggest that it wouldn't matter even if they did because *Africans don't have clocks and can't take meds 12 hours apart.*" "this hollywood producer is pushing too hard for gay marriage in 2007, let's lecture him about how you need to slow down and respect the process instead of being an activist about it"

There's this interview with Aaron Sorkin where he's saying "America used to be the world's heroes, when my dad was a soldier people would say 'thank god, the Americans are here' and they don't say that anymore and it's because of Donald Trump" - Sorkin totally ignores US imperialism and the way that people in Vietnam and Iraq and Afghanistan wouldn't say 'thank god, the americans are here' to an extent that is genuinely startling, and that shows up in the show. At one point in the show president bartlett okays the assassination of a foreign leader and says 'today we enter the league of ordinary nations' as though the US hasn't backed coups or assassination around the world, as though the CIA isn't a thing, as though Henry Kissinger isn't a thing, and it's *bizarre* from a show that is supposed to be politically aware.

I'm actually super hesitant to recommend the west wing thing to general audiences because i don't always agree with the hosts or their guests but as an analysis of the surprisingly right-leaning politics of the show it's a worthwhile listen.

It's honestly something i could rant about for way too long because I had early warning signs about it. My sister *loves* this show and its politics. She's got a "my president is Jed Bartlett" sticker that she keeps next to her signed copy of one of Ann Coulter's books. If my sister thinks your liberal character is reasonable and level headed and has good policy positions, your liberal character isn't all that liberal.

The show is steeped in American exceptionalism and imperialist apologia but it's got a tearjerker soundtrack and maybe the best and most charming cast ever assembled so you ignore it when CJ wants to brush off constitutional protections against illegal search and seizure or cruel and unusual punishment (she's a huge fan of cops and intelligence agencies and not a fan of oversight) or when she shits on affirmative action (she believes her father lost his dream job to a less qualified candidate who was selected due to minority status, and that that job loss led to his mental decline - CJ Craig thinks that DEI hiring practices killed her father) because Allison Janney is an incredibly talented and charismatic actress who is elevating the hell out of her character.

But, you know, it would be kind of fucked up if a Democrat president's chief of staff was cheerfully on-record about the fact that she thinks intelligence agencies are more effective when nobody knows what they're doing so we should leave them to their own devices.

Thank you for the opportunity to rant i cannot fucking stand this show and i kind of want to do an episode-by-episode breakdown of various flavors of bullshit but there are much better things to do with my time so i don't but it's nice to have a chance to yell about the stuff that makes me crazy off the top of my head.

That said: if you want a podcast that is less vitriolic but does actually get into how parts of the US political system work, check out 5 to 4, which is a podcast by 3 lefty lawyers talking about Supreme Court decisions. It's great!

[miyukisu]

On Camera .ᐟ

❤︎ | You just love teasing your best friend—even better now that he's frustrated and can only see you through a screen (2.1k wc) ╰ feat. narumi gen (kn8) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 1 | kinktober masterlist

tags - best friend! narumi, virgin! narumi, reader also works in the force, cybersex, mutual masturbation, so much dirty talk, flashing, nipple play (kinda), swearing

minors do not interact

You and Narumi Gen go way back to your trainee days. Much to everyone's surprise, you two became quick friends—really good friends at that. I mean, who would've thought?

There's you—a fiery little thing, loves to poke fun and tease her friends. Then, there's Narumi Gen—bit of an oddball. Truth be told, you two had almost nothing in common, except for the fact that you were both strong.

You, Narumi, and Mina led your trainee batch; everyone looked up to you. Mina respected the two of you. Narumi, of course, couldn't accept that there was someone tailgating him at his position at the top. And you—who admired Narumi quite a lot. Although, that admiration came in the form of endless teasing. It wasn't just Narumi who was annoyed, but the rest of your fellow trainees as well. They were forced to be a witness of your 'disgusting and coy display of affection.'

Narumi said he hated it. He hated how strong you were and how you were always up in his business. Yet, you two were attached at the hip. It was a paradox, but neither of you addressed it. That was until you both graduated and got assigned at different bases which were hours apart.

Your feelings for each other were thrown into disarray. But that didn't mean you lost all correspondence.

────────────

"You look like shit."

Narumi groans from the other end of your video call. You were teasing him, but it was partially true—his eyes were sunken and a deep frown persisted on his face.

He glares intensely at you. "You wouldn't understand the burdens of the strongest kaiju killer, would you?"

His arrogance was only met by a laugh. That same laugh was one he despised, but sought after because... it just felt right. There were many things in his head that made no sense and the common denominator was you. "Why do you have to mess up my mind?" he'd often think, especially on his sleepless nights.

Narumi leans back in his chair, a pensive sigh escaping his dried lips. "But y'know... I've really been frustrated lately..." he admits.

It was a rare show of vulnerability. Most of the time, he's too prideful to admit his true feelings, but after knowing you for so long, he has learned to let his walls down sometimes. At the very least—you were nice enough to pause the teasing when it gets serious.

"Overworked huh?" you ask.

He turns his chair to face you again, tilting his head and letting out another fatigued breath. "That and life is just so BORING," he exclaims. You raise an eyebrow, anticipating a hissy fit which wasn't uncommon for this guy.

"I feel like all I do is work and work... and work. God, even the younger members of this base have more fun than I do."

A smirk crosses your lips, amused that you predicted his impending meltdown. "What? Like they don't deserve it?"

"Duh! I'm out here busting my ass off—killing kaiju left and right—and these kids are the ones having a social life?"

"When did you care about being social, Mr. Shut-in?"

He clicks his tongue. "Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, I don't care about social relations. I am WAY above that, okay? I don't care about what they do. They can fuck like rabbits in the dorms for all I care but—"

Narumi was cut off by the sound of your boisterous laughter. As much as you tried to keep the serious facade, it was impossible... especially after figuring out his true cause of distress.

"Oh my God... don't tell me you're mad because the younger soldiers are getting more action than you?"

His face felt warm all over. Narumi didn't mean to blurt that out, but envy had been consuming him for the past few days after he had heard some younger members of the base... getting dirty in one of the dorms.

Narumi was the strongest soldier—admired and idolized by many. Yet, here he was—a raging virgin with a seemingly unreciprocated crush on you. Yes, you, but he'd rather die than admit it to your face.

He turned to look away, stunned into silence by his own actions. He was unsure of how to salvage his reputation at the moment. "That's not what I meant..."

All the arrogance had faded from his voice—replaced by a uncharacteristic softness as a result of embarrassing himself.

"Oh c'mon. There's nothing embarrassing about that. We're only human; we can feel those things, y'know?"

"Even you?" he counters.

An uneasy smile spreads across your face. "Yeah... even me."

But the look on his face says that he isn't convinced. In his head he's thinking about how impossible that is considering how attractive you are. You had to be lying about being in the same boat as him.

Though you weren't sure why you wanted him to believe you.

"I'm serious. Look, I'm in a base far away from all the people I know and the guy here aren't exactly my... cup of tea," you added.

With that, your best friend's face seemed to lighten up a bit. Part of him was glad that even someone as hot as you was in the same predicament as him, but mostly because the person he likes isn't being taken by anyone else.

As high and mighty he sees himself, he always thought himself unworthy of you. The simple fact that you were unclaimed gave him a sliver of hope.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The poor guy was confused and it was clear as day. You felt mostly responsible for it. As you prepared to say something, you crossed your arms—pushing your boobs up in the process. Wearing a tank top suddenly made you conscious of your body.

An intrusive thought invaded your brain. It was perhaps the result of you wanting to tease him, his frustration, and you being secretly pent up as well. It was a futile attempt to shake off that thought as it kept bombarding you.

You were able to hold it in, until you couldn't.

"Hey... Gen?"

"What?" he says, sounding a bit dejected by his circumstances.

You stifled a smile, knowing that he'd be thrown off by it. "Can you turn around? I wanna show you a surprise."

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical of whatever you have up your sleeve. Throughout your years together, he has learned to take your so-called sincerity with a grain of salt. But his affection towards you makes him abandon all rational thought.

"Okay?" he says, turning around in his swivel chair.

You let out a breath—giving yourself a quick mental pep talk. You quickly lifted your top, thrilled and anxious of the risk at the same time.

It was now or never. "Okay, you can look now."

Narumi quickly turns in his seat, eyes widening upon seeing a pair of tits—your tits—on his screen. He frantically looked away, covering his eyes with his hands—though he wasn't doing a good job at it.

"H-hey! What the fuck? Put those away!"

His words betrayed his actions; you could see him peeking through his fingers. You figured you were at a point of no return, so you did the only appropriate thing: squishing your boobs together for him.

Seeing your boldness, he let his hand fall—finally admiring what you displayed for him. "Seriously... what are you doing?"

"We're both frustrated, aren't we?" you ask as if your situation was ordinary.

"So what? I stare at your tits?"

"Dumbass. Is that all you do when you're frustrated? Stare at shit?"

He rolls his eyes, trying to act blasé, but there was a growing tent in his pants. "No... well, I guess I... jack off... sometimes..."

As if saying 'sometimes' softens the blow of his words.

You let go of your tits and lean back into your chair. It was entertaining—how his eyes never seem to leave your chest. Almost as if he were entranced by it.

His body moved on its own, palming the growing erection under his sweats. It ached; it was painful and it wanted relief.

With the angle of the camera, you couldn't really see him pull his cock out from under the desk, but you just knew. The momentary o-face he made presumably when the cold air of his room hit the warm and sensitive skin of his cock was a dead giveaway.

All shame was thrown out the window as he started to slowly fist his cock at the sight he could only dream of. It almost felt unreal to him that all of this was happening—you willingly showing off your tits while he jacked off and you watched.

It was exhilarating in all the best ways.

But he wasn't the only one excited. This all started because you were frustrated too. Your eyes were fixed on his face. Unlike him—who had visuals—all you could go off on was the fact that you were doing something so dirty.

A hand slipped under your shorts and beneath your panties. It was damp, of course it was. You slowly rubbed the pad of your finger against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Narumi must've noticed your own movements as well because he let out a low groan. "Fuck... that's hot."

You huff your chest out with a smirk. "Bet you're so hard right now huh?"

"Like you're not a fucking waterfall down there," he retorts.

The back and forth goes on while the two of you played with yourselves.

Eventually, the stimulation wasn't enough for you. Quickly, you pulled your hand out and popped your fingers into your mouth. He watched intently, mesmerized by you.

After sufficiently lubricating your digits, you snuck them back in and plunged two fingers into you. The pleasant intrusion had you throwing your head back against your chair and letting out a soft moan.

He rubbed himself faster than before. Narumi was desperately reaching his high, wanting to quell the ache in his cock.

"Play with your tits," he demanded.

You had heard him well enough before you got lost in the sensation. Your other hand made its way up to cup one of your breasts, slowly massaging it in a teasing manner. His jaw went slack at how easily you obeyed his orders.

The ego boost that he got while ordering around his subordinates isn't even on par with this at all.

Every time you flicked or tugged your nipple—he swore that his dick twitched. "Yeah... keep going. Are you rubbing your clit huh?"

"No..."

"Oh," he breathes, "Fucking yourself on your fingers then?"

"Y-yeah, but I can't reach deep enough," you whine.

He sucks in through his teeth. Narumi had never seen you so desperate before and awakened something primal in him.

"If that were me... you would've came minutes ago, wouldn't you?"

You nod, now wishing that it was his fingers making a mess out of you. But this was all you could get for now.

"Yeah... you're the strongest after all. You can do anything, right?"

"You fucking know it," he says almost breathlessly. Seeing that fucked out look on your face while praising him almost made him cum. But he wanted to last longer—to savor this moment which he wasn't sure if it would happen again.

"You gonna cum with me?" he asked.

He was close. Oh so painfully close. But he was a bit of a romantic in that he wanted the both of you to cum together.

You peel your back off your chair, shifting angles to coax out an orgasm and after a few moments, you do. The sensation flooded your senses, spreading warmth all throughout your body. You weren't sure if you came this hard because of having 0 action for so long or if it was because of how lewd you were with your best friend.

And as you moaned sweetly through your microphone, he let out hot ropes of cum and a breathless moan to match. He felt his abdomen cramping after unconsciously being stiff and on edge for so long.

Both of you let out labored breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeats. It was only then your eyes met again. Though it seems like post nut clarity hit him too soon as he looked away with a bashful expression.

"Still frustrated, captain?" you teased.

He was glad you didn't call him that earlier, otherwise he would've came right on the spot. "Shut the fuck up... I am though."

"Greedy. That wasn't enough for you?"

"You mean seeing you play with yourself through a fucking monitor? Go figure."

You laugh once more and it was now mostly music to his ears. "Say—how about I visit you some time? Let me show you the real thing?"

"...Sure."

"For someone who was speaking so dirty earlier—you sure do get shy huh?"

"Don't you ever shut the fuck up?" he quips to which you laugh again.

The prospect of getting to hold you and feel you around his member was tantalizing. But for now, he'll have to deal with his cock hardening again.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note a short one... with no p in v... to start of the month

[darklordofthesimp]

Dissonance (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader)

Part of the "Anything" verse but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: When a mission-gone-wrong leads to a confrontation, Ghost confesses the way that he feels. 

A/N: Get a load of the fucking ART OH MY G O D 

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Mutual Pining || Tension 

Warnings: Graphic Language 

Disclaimer: Sunshine is Gender Neutral as always, however I am looking to start showcasing fan art as the cover pieces on fics and it will always be up to the artists discretion to decide what they want their Sunshine/Saint/Birdy to look like.

Like the characters? Birdy Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Such amazing Ghost x Sunshine fan art by @hiskonigin honestly leaves me breathless every single time I swear to God.

___

The mission had gone terribly wrong. 

You felt like they always were, these days. Any task or deployment that started off well, started off controlled, they’d fall to pieces the second pressure was applied. It wasn’t all of them, though. Just enough that it had become noticeable to Price and the team. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out the issue. 

But, as you stood nose to nose with the Lieutenant in the shared kitchen, you were beginning to see the common denominator. 

“I’m not doing this with you again, Riley,” you snapped. “I’m fucking sick of this conversation.” 

Simon’s fists clenched by his side, “I say when this conversation is done, not you.” 

Your eyes narrowed, grinding your teeth in an attempt to keep your mouth shut. You’d been warned by Price about your insubordination but the urge to risk it all was at an all-time high. Simon Riley was insufferable. 

“Yes,” you ground out miserably, “Sir.” 

The officer took a step toward you, unrest buzzing beneath his skin. You could feel the discourse running in his blood, you could sense the unreasonable rage that burned in his chest. You knew it because you knew him on a plane that nobody else would understand. You’d related to him. You’d experienced it all, too. 

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass,” he snapped.

Yet… every time. Every time. 

Rejection pinched your heart but the feeling was almost hollow. You’d been hurt by Simon so many times that you could almost say that you were numb to it. It’s not as though you were chasing his approval, it was that you were never going to earn it. You couldn’t get civility, you couldn’t get anything from him. 

You were tired. 

Things had changed, everything had changed since the incident. You’d been kidnapped, held ransom, beaten and battered, and then left to die in favour of your teammate. It was ironic that Simon had been the one to save you; it felt like he regretted it some days. 

The fire that burned beneath the skin had dimmed and you felt out of place. There was only so much you could take and you could feel that breaking point creeping up on you. It was foul that you were treated with the same hostility as König, your only crime was being brought onto the team. 

Your only crime was that you weren’t Birdy. 

“Okay,” you rasped, nodding your head. “Noted. Am I dismissed?” 

Simon took in a deep breath, eyes steady on yours. He didn’t waver and you knew that he had more to say. There was always more venom with Simon, quiet with others but angry with you. Always so angry. 

“Dismissed.” Ghost confirmed. When you turned on your heel, the man spoke up from behind you. “First parade tomorrow is 0700 at the gym with Birdy and König for training.” 

You whirled around as fast as you’d gone to leave. “Sorry?” 

Simon barely blinked. “You heard me.” 

“I have the day off tomorrow,” you snapped, “we all have the day off tomorrow.” 

The officer only shook his head. “Learn to follow orders and you’ll earn a day off.” 

Your chest burned, blood rushed to your head and you wanted nothing more than to just scream. You wanted to grip Simon by his stupid shoulders and shake him until that fucking mask fell from his face. You wanted to beat on his dumb fucking chest until you knocked some sense into him. 

“I’m sick of this, Riley.” Your voice shook as you raised a finger. “I’m fucking sick of this.” 

“Imagine how I feel, Sunshine,” the LT drawled, turning to leave like he hadn’t just ruined your night- like he ruins every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. The sensation of being alone, of being rejected over and over by the people that are meant to be the closest to you. You’d never stopped experiencing that particular pain. From your parents to your first few units, and now, to this. 

To the 141. 

To Simon Riley. 

“I won’t be there,” you rasped. The words escaped from between your lips before you could catch them. “I’m not going.” 

Your Lieutenant shifted his body to face you again, eyes square on yours. You couldn’t care less about the murder in his eyes, you couldn’t care less about the chill drifting along your spine. You didn’t care about anything anymore. 

If they wanted to treat you like some erroneous outsider, then you would act like one.

“What?” It was low, almost whispered, but you heard him loud and clear. 

You glared up at him, moving forward until you were only inches from him. You could taste his unrest, the shift in his body language, you could almost hear him grit his teeth. You didn’t care. His upset meant nothing to you, he meant nothing to you. 

“You heard me.” You dared him to do something. Anything. “I’m not doing shit for you people anymore. Especially you. I’m never doing anything for you again.” 

“That’s what you’ve been asked,” he snapped, “your job and nothing else.” 

“I’m trying!” You all but shrieked. You felt the tether to your calm demeanour beginning to slip from your fingers. “I’ve been doing nothing but trying and it’s never enough for you.”

Your lips trembled as you gasped for air. Adrenaline was rushing through your system and you prayed that he wouldn’t push you over the edge you teetered along. You felt the unfamiliar tingle along your nose and cheeks, the tell-tale signs of angry tears. 

Don’t say anything, you begged internally. 

But, if there was one thing Simon was good at it was disappointing you. 

“If you have to try that hard then maybe you’re in the wrong place, Sunshine.” 

Something inside you snapped.

Tension slingshotted from where it had been building in your chest and landed straight onto your tongue, tasting of venom and fury. Rage washed over you, tears spilling from your lashes as you pushed a finger into his chest. 

“Maybe I am.” You finally admitted to your own fears but you wouldn’t be conceding peacefully. There was too much you had to say, too much spite poisoning your lungs to leave it there. 

“Maybe this is the wrong fucking place,” you nodded, “because it’s just a fucking high school in here. Everyone’s fucking someone, everyone’s in love with someone and everyone hates someone.” 

The LT said nothing as you pushed him hard, stepping back from the force beneath your palms. 

“I can’t do anything right because I’m not Birdy,” your voice was warbled as you shouted, thick with tears and anger alike. “König can’t do anything right because of a mistake from the brass, Birdy can’t recover because they’re being babied, and you can’t be unbiased because you want to fuck Birdy!” 

“What?” Simon hissed, but the word was lost on you. You hadn’t even heard him as you pushed him again and again. He let you shove him, let you gain ground on him until his back was pressed against the wall. 

“And you!” Your voice cracked beneath the volume. “I’ve done everything for you, risked everything for you!” 

“I never asked you-” 

“You didn’t have to!” It was a sob. It was a confession. 

Simon’s jaw fell slack from beneath his mask. 

“I’d do anything for you,” you finally fell to a whisper. “We both know that.” 

The man took in a shuddered breath from beneath your palms. He was pressed hard into the wall with your hands splayed across his chest as though readying yourself for another attack. 

But then they fell slack. 

Then they left his body completely. 

He shivered at the loss. 

“I hate you,” you took a step back, body shaking from emotional overload. You had so much more to say, so much hatred built up over the months. There was just no energy to deliver them anymore.

And, the more you thought about it, maybe it wasn’t hatred. Maybe it was just hurt. 

The realization that you would never be loved, never be accepted- the understanding that you would never be the first choice. Always an afterthought, always a hindrance. 

A self-sabotaging menace that no one could tolerate. 

“You’re right. I don’t belong here.” You affirmed, sorrow forming a pit in your stomach as you finally came to understand. “But, I want you to know that you made this every inch as miserable as it’s been, you selfish cunt.” 

The insult fell like a gavel between you. 

You half expected Simon to yell. You almost wanted him to. A reaction would be better than the silence filling the small space between you both.

The air grew heavy with tension the longer the quiet continued. Your fingers twitched at your side, the understanding that this was the end of it all. The end of the farce that he’d put on in the hospital, the short pretence of caring. 

You supposed people did crazy things when lives are at stake. 

Maybe he only pitied you when he’d spoken those words, the sentence you’d been hanging onto for weeks. 

“I would follow you anywhere. We both know it.” 

The only thing that Simon followed you with was dissonance.

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked and wavered. “Got nothing to say?” 

Simon didn’t move, didn’t say a word, he didn’t even blink. You supposed you’d been expecting too much. The man never gave you anything when you needed it, when you were desperate for a sign. His silence was infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you said, wobbly and broken. “Of course, you don’t, you fucking coward. Never do when it matters.” 

You took another step away from him, forcing yourself to detach from the situation. The longer you stayed the longer you craved a response, you felt like he owed it to you. But no one is entitled to anything and you sure as fuck weren’t about to let yourself fall into that mentality. 

The man before you brought out the worst in you. 

As you were readying yourself to turn around, Simon Riley finally spoke. 

“Are you finished?” 

Your jaw fell slack. “Excuse me?” 

Ghost pushed himself off the wall, inches from you in what felt like a second. You could barely catch your breath at the sudden proximity, the overwhelming sense of being in his presence. The feeling of being on the back foot beneath him, rather than the one in control, was intoxicating. 

“I said,” he repeated, stormy eyes bearing into yours, “Are you finished?” 

Each word was enunciated, a pause in between that felt like a beat on your chest every time. You were, in all honesty, flabbergasted. There was no better way to put it. 

You couldn’t even string together a sentence to come back at him with, really. The audacity that it took to reply to everything you had said with such an arrogant question made your blood simmer beneath your skin. 

Simon took your silence as a confirmation that you were, in fact, finished. 

“Can I talk now, Sunshine?” He growled, stepping closer into your space as if there were any more room for him to fit. You receded, feeling as though you were gasping for air that wasn’t tainted by the taste of him. “You gonna let me talk?” 

You said nothing as he walked you backward, desperately wanting to dig your heels into the ground. When your back hit the wall you looked up at Simon with wide eyes, hands hovering over his chest. 

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna talk now,” the LT deliberated mockingly, nodding his head as though he’d given you the choice. The sarcasm dropped from his tone when he spoke next. “You have no fucking clue, Sunshine. You’re a fuckin’ clueless idiot, is what you fuckin’ are.” 

Tears burned in your eyes, collecting on your lash line against your will. Had he really trapped you against a wall just to shatter you further? Did he really hate you that much? 

His gloved hands came to grip your own and you flinched away, the back of your head thudding against the drywall. Simon’s eyes narrowed, pressing your trembling fingers against the thin shirt covering his chest. 

You could feel his heartbeat. To your shock, it wasn’t steady. 

His heart was racing. 

You met his gaze once more, watching as his eyes trailed the lone tear on your cheek. 

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated but, this time, his voice was a whisper. “You have no fucking clue.” 

You wanted to say something, anything. You wanted to believe what he implied, you wanted to hold onto it with the hope that you’d had so many times before. 

Unfortunately, vague confessions and sweet nothings weren’t enough anymore. 

Simon knew it, too. 

“I can sit here correcting half the shit you’ve said,” he shook his head. “But I’m not gonna bother ‘cos I agree with you.” 

Your heart dropped.  

“Don’t look at me like that, let me finish.” Simon rasped, his fingers tightening against yours. “You’re right about it all, ‘bout it being a fuckin’ high school. König wants Birdy, Price wants Saint, Soap wants Gaz, and everyone’s a fucking bitchy cunt to someone on the team.”  

You blinked at the last couple that he’d mentioned. 

“But,” he shook his head, gaze heavy on your skin. “I’m not targeting you because I don’t think you belong. And I don't. Want. Birdy.” 

You made a small noise, embarrassment burning flush along your neck. You cast your eyes to the side and took in a shuddering breath. 

“I don’t give a fuck who you want-” You began, the lie falling shakily from your lips. 

“Yes, you do.” Simon interrupted sharply. You looked up at him quickly, ready to defend yourself. “Because I give a fuck about who you want, too.” 

“Why?” You blurted, heart thrashing in your chest when he shoots you a pointed glare. 

“Come on, Sunshine, don’t play dumb.” 

“Then don’t be a coward, Simon.” 

The LT raised a brow, gripping your hands tightly at your words. The beating beneath your palms picked up in speed, reminiscent of a racehorse sprinting towards the finish line. You’d never have picked his anxiety if you were just watching him, those dead eyes unwavering. 

Maybe, that was why he let you feel it… feel him. 

He wanted you to know, he wanted to show you in the only way that he could- in the only way you would trust.

Simon Riley was laying himself bare. 

“I give a fuck because,” he paused, loosing a shaky breath. He blinked, finally. Those blonde lashes fluttered as his eyes scoured the features of your face, building the courage to spill his honesty to you. “I give a fuck because I want you, Sunshine.” 

There it was. 

There it was. 

You were frozen, suspended in time with your hands on his chest and your face inches from his. The taste of his words lingered on your tongue as you took him in with every trembling breath. 

“I give you a hard time,” Simon nodded, “I do. You put yourself in these fuckin’ situations to save me and I can’t do anything to protect you.”

And, as if someone had turned on the lights, everything suddenly became clear. 

The time he’d been so furious that he barged into your room after a mission to berate you. “I could have lost you,” he’d said, “You would have died and it would have been on me.” 

That shattering incident where you’d fought in the kitchen, “I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost had snapped, smacking your cup from the table. “I don’t need anything from you.”

And, of course, this mission. This whole debacle had started because you’d recovered him from an ambush. 

“This whole time…” You rasped, “I thought you hated me.” 

Simon scoffed, the sound bitter on his tongue. “No. I just hated the way I felt. The way I feel.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, your fingers pressing into the skin of his chest. These months had you doubting yourself, had you wondering what you could have done so wrong to deserve this treatment. The embarrassment of wanting someone that couldn’t stand you was crippling. 

But now… now as his eyes bore into yours, begging you to say something wordlessly. The way his body was on edge, waiting for your response, fearing your rejection. How could you be asked to articulate anything? How were you meant to formulate a sentence? 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you wanted to tell him everything. 

You wanted him. 

But the craving to put your hands on his skin, to taste his confession on his lips, to show him what he meant to you, it was overwhelming. You wanted him to understand how you felt in a way that he’d never doubt, in a way that would explain why you were constantly risking yourself for him. 

You knew he understood when his hands moved to grip your waist.

“Oh, my God.” 

You leapt away, your body thumping into the wall as the spell broke between yourself and the Lieutenant. 

“Oh, my God!” Birdy said again, hands coming up to their eyes hesitantly as they stumbled back and forth in the doorway. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” 

You groaned, dropping your chin to your chest as you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Relax,” Simon coughed, his fingers trailing along your skin until they fell by his sides again, slow and hesitant. “Just- We were debriefing.” 

You could hear footsteps approaching from down the hall and the urge to throw yourself out the window grew exponentially. Out of all the times for these two idiots to make an appearance, they had to pick the most paramount moment. It was as though they were the main characters and you were simply a side-plot, cursed to never be able to develop further than the main story-line.

You glanced up at Ghost who offered you a similar expression, unimpressed. 

König cast a shadow over the intruder as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, undoubtedly investigating the commotion. His eyes fell on Birdy first, watching as their hands came up and down from their face, unsure whether they were allowed to look. Then, jade eyes moved to observe Ghost who hadn’t moved from his position posted next to your flushed body. 

“Oh…” König murmured, realization slowly dawning as he returned his gaze to Birdy. “Oh.” 

Gigantic hands reached to gently but firmly tug on the back of the stumbling sniper’s shirt. He offered an apologetic wave as he began to drag Birdy from the room, the latter still sputtering embarrassed atonements. 

“It’s okay,” you slipped out from your space between Simon and the wall. “I was just leaving anyway.” 

You quickly moved towards the door, wiping away any remaining tears from your face roughly. Just as you reached the exit, you realized that you’d left the man hanging. What if he thought that you were rejecting him? What if he went back to hating you? 

What if you missed your chance? 

You paused, turning to look over your shoulder. 

Simon was already watching you, eyes soft and his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. 

“Don’t worry,” he offered. “I’ll catch up, Sunshine.” 

You hid your smile as you turned back around and continued. 

You left the room embarrassed, sure. But, you also left with newfound hope and a promise. 

You left with the promise of Simon Riley. 

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! I wanted to ask if you feel lately like you've been getting anything positive out of your therapy, because a lot of your initial thoughts about it kind of mirror mine. I'm very logical (except when I'm upset at myself) and very skeptical, so I feel like a therapist either isn't going to tell me anything new, or that I'm going to just disregard it because I can't trick myself into believing things that I just plain don't believe.

But I'm also starting to come to a realization, two years after my ADHD diagnosis and letting go (without therapy!) of most of the executive dysfunction-fueled self worth issues I was having, that I'm kind of Not Okay in other ways. I'm safe —going to work every day and doing my job so I won't lose my livelihood and have never had a self harm urge in my life— But I'm not really okay. I'm having major self esteem issues related to my personality separate from the executive dysfunction that are putting me in a bad place. I don't want to take antidepressants for reasons I won't go into but that means my other option is therapy and... I don't know if I'm a person that therapy will actually work on. I found a lot of validation in some of your perspectives, about affirmations being bullshit and "mindfulness" exercises feeling impossible and useless, about not having an inner monologue and how that might be causing issues with traditional methods. So I was just wondering, do you feel like therapy is working now that you've been in it longer?

I've wasted a lot of money on "elective" (and ultimately useless, back to square one) medical nonsense this year and I'm not eager to waste more, but I've also met my insurance deductible so it's the best time to try it if I'm going to.

I mean, it depends on the modality a little but I don't think trying basic talk therapy can hurt, as long as you find a decent therapist. And it's better to try it now when you're feeling Mostly Okay than waiting until you are Really Not Okay. But this entire paragraph comes with a lot of context so....

A lot of what I talked about in terms of struggling with mindfulness, etc. was less related to the therapy I am still in than it was to the DBT class I took at Therapist's suggestion. We were both aware that she was basically throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck, and while it was an interesting class I don't think for me it was helpful. As you mention, I struggled with affirmations and visualization since neurologically I'm not really set up for those; I don't think they're objectively bullshit but I do think there's an assumption within the mental health industry that they will have function for everyone and that's simply untrue, and the expectation that it will is very damaging. I also struggled with the physical-intervention aspects (called TIPP usually) which didn't work at all for me and felt frankly like doctor-approved self harm. DBT can get very culty, which set off a ton of red flags for me -- possibly false flags, but they still waved real big.

And that's because I also have a lot of trust issues surrounding therapy. To the point where, the minute one of the people running the DBT class made actually quite gentle fun of me for asking a question he couldn't answer, I checked out on anything he said. We were learning about a DBT concept called Wise Mind and I asked, "If wise mind is an identifiable mental state, how do we know if we're in it?" and when he couldn't quite answer beyond "It's different for everyone" I said, "But if we know it's real there must be some kind of common denominator, a measurable data point," and he said "Well, Sam, you're not going to levitate" and the rest of the class laughed. Sorry bud, this is almost certainly an over-reaction, but I'm me and you lost me when you came at me instead of just admitting you didn't know. (Also it turns out I just live in Wise Mind like 80% of the time which is one reason I couldn't tell.)

But basic talk therapy outside of DBT is just...you talk at someone about your problems and come up with ways to try and solve them, which is a lot more straightforward and way less frustrating. You have to be an active participant, you have to both have a goal and be willing to discuss reaching it, but that goal can be as simple as just "figure out what my mental health goals should be" at first. You don't have to learn like, vocabulary for it.

The thing is, while I have seen some improvement in regulation issues, I also struggle with basic talk therapy. Most people, and this blew my mind, see measurable improvement in nine to eighteen therapy sessions. A lot of people don't go long-term, they just are having a moment and get help getting through the moment and then can disengage, with their therapist's approval.

I was in therapy consistently from the age of nine to eighteen and only stopped because I reached legal majority and physically refused to go.

Not one minute of those nine years did I want to be there. And, because none of the three therapists I saw across those years actually explained to me why I was there or how therapy worked, for me it felt like "Your punishment for having feelings is to speedrun every feeling you had this week in an hour, to a stranger." There was also what my current therapist believes to be some extremely unethical behavior going on, which didn't help.

So it has taken actually a lot of time to get to a place where I would even allow her to understand what help I need. I've been in therapy for about a year (generally weekly but there have been some gaps) and it has only recently gotten deeper than very basic interpersonal problem-solving.

Like, two weeks ago I told her, "I had a thought this week that I couldn't tell you about something I was doing because then you'd have material on me" (meaning blackmail material) "and that's a fucked-up thing to think." And once I'd actually identified it as fucked up I had zero issue telling her about it, wasn't even nervous as I did so. Who's she going to tell? She's literally legally constrained from telling.

I think well over half of what she does is either validate that whatever emotion I'm having is normal, affirm my reactions so I don't keep believing I behaved weirdly, or praise something I've done that was a positive act. Does this work? Not always, because I'm unfortunately very aware that it's part of her job to do those things. But yeah, sometimes. Even if you don't fully believe it, "Hey that was a really smart move" is nice to hear. Sometimes she helps me come up with a plan for stressful future events or (rarely) behavior modification, and sometimes she either provides me with research or points me towards research I can do on my own. We don't do meditation or affirmations or stuff like that.

Like, last week I brought up the fact that I hadn't really ever thought about how if I have a disability that causes emotional dysregulation and I got it from my parents, they also likely had undiagnosed emotional dysregulation when raising me. So she said I should look into research on children with emotionally dysregulated parents. I was pretty annoyed by what I found (the ONE TIME adults are the focus instead of the kids is the ONE TIME I needed to learn about the kids, really?) but it led to something that was both informative and upsetting, so we discussed that. And when I was stumped about how to move forward with the information, she suggested that my general coping mechanism of writing about it was probably a good plan.

(At which point I just silently advanced my powerpoint presentation to the next slide, where I had a series of quotes from the Shivadh novels where Michaelis, acting as a parent, repeatedly does the exact opposite of the upsetting thing, because I realized even before the meeting that it's an ongoing theme in my work whenever I deal with people being parents. It's a good thing she has a sense of humor and also that I do.)

So yeah. Going into therapy you have to be ready to reject a therapist if you don't like them or if they get weird and pushy, you have to be ready to be a self-advocate, but you are the client; it shouldn't be super difficult to find someone who can at least walk you through what you want from it and agree not to do the stuff you don't want, and if you want to stop going you just...stop going.

Good luck, in any case! I hope you get what you need, whether or not that ends up being therapy.

[queenofthequillandink]

When my partner was in high school, they were friends with pretty much every queer girl in their small town rural school due to not being an asshole and also not yet knowing they were queer, but not Acting Like a Man™ because, frankly, most of the boys at school were complete dumbasses and they didn't want to be like that.

This means that, inevitably, they were caught in the middle of some good, old fashioned lesbian pining. They were the common denominator between Girl A and Girl B, the friend the two had in common. Girl A would come to them and sigh about Girl B and how pretty she was and how she'd never want to go out with her. Girl B did the same about Girl A.

And then spring break hit.

The thing about my partner is that they were born near the school cutoff date, so they're old for their grade. When most of their friends were 17, they were 18 and able to do things that legal adults can do. Such as rent hotel rooms.

So Girls A and B come to my partner saying they want to go on a trip together over break, but they're both still 17, so would my partner please rent them a hotel room and they'll pay them back? And my partner, being a good friend and knowing that their parents were assholes, said yes.

See, the thing is. It had been months of my partner being stuck in this wlw pining vortex. And they were completely in charge of the hotel booking. They looked at the booking request for two separate rooms. And they made a choice.

One room. One bed. Booked, paid for, reservation number passed on to their friends. And then all they had to do was sit back and wait.

Day one of the trip, my partner gets a frantic call. It's Girl A, on speakerphone with Girl B. The hotel had made some sort of mistake, they only had one room booked, with one bed!

"Yeah, two rooms were too expensive," says my partner, lying through their teeth. "I thought you'd be okay with sharing, since you two are friends."

"Betrayal!" neither girl yells because they're both standing next to the object of their affection.

"Haha, yeah, thanks," they say instead before hanging up.

Anyway, they came back from that trip dating. As far as my partner is aware, neither is aware that they fully orchestrated "only one bed" on purpose out of self defense.

[heartfullofleeches]

What if all of the staff are yandere for sea creature reader except 1 person, and that person is the reader's favorite, just them being the only one able to feed them and all the other staff watching in absolute envy

Fucking. Mitch.

You click softly and open your mouth wide as the staff member feeds you another spoon full of their famed tuna salad, rubbing your head against their chest out of appreciation and a sly attempt at snatching the container from them. They hold it out of reach and you whine.

"H-hey! Some of this is for me too, Y/n. I'll ask dad for an extra helping tomorrow, okay?"

You redirect your attack to their spoon, nabbling it and licking the stray bits of fish before shoving the utensil in the direction of their mouth as you point at the tubberware.

"Oh, you wanna feed me? Sorry about that."

Mitchell gives the container to you and happily allows you to feed them. They had never been ashamed of the family business, but they couldn't be more happier than now that fishing was in their bloodline. The first time they came up to your tank, you were too hungry and homsick from the lingering smells of the sea on the coat their mother lent them to lash out like you did with others. They fed you half of the breaded fish their folks gave them for lunch and the rest was history. You two were each others closest companion in this strange world, but not everyone was happy about your kinship.

The breakroom breaks out in a sea of complains and cries as the crew watches the scene unfold. It was one of the cutest things ever filmed, but it was hard to celebrate the moment when it wasn't one of them. Everyone in the room had a dislike for each other due to one common denominator, yet they all agreed on one thing. Mitch was a home-wrecker and needed to be removed from the picture.

The end of the group points at the whiteboard with the tip of their marker. "Alright. We need ideas to get rid of Mitch. As I've said before - murder is not what we should look too first.

A few hands go down - but one remains.

"Why not just try to get them fired?"

Another chimes in. "I mean, yeah that would be the best option. No body to deal with, but they could still visit."

The door to the breakroom opens. Mitch walks in just in time to see the drawings on the whiteboard fade into obscurity.

"Hey, guys. Y/n was extra friendly today... What are you up to?"

Looks are shared around the room.

"Hangman."

[freak-accident419]

File Room Confessions

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Josh snoop into the employee records room to find more information about his biotic co-workers. However, one conversation leads to another.

Word Count: 1.5k

Content: fluff, gender-neutral reader (no pronouns used), ’pretty’ is used in a gender-neutral way (as it should), set in S01E05 “Justice Desserts” of Future Man—you may have to know more about the show to understand what’s going on, and you’re basically taking Jeri’s place in this scene. Enjoy :)

-

“See, there’s always at least one common denominator when it comes to sniffing out these Biotics,” you tell Josh as you point to Janis’s file. “Zero medical conditions. And zero allergies.” You took out Carl’s file and showed him those records as well.

You and Josh had snuck into the file room to look for any specifics of the Biotic employees that Wolf and Tiger had killed. Perhaps any patterns or connections that might help with your mission.

“You know, I still can’t believe that ‘pretty smile girl’—or, well, Janis—was a Biotic! She was really nice,” he sighed as he looked over her file.

You were sitting next to each other on the floor against the file cabinets with a bag of Cheetos in between you two and a box of employee records beside you as you looked through everyone’s files.

You scoffed at Josh’s claim. “Dude. You barely knew her,” you said as you grabbed another Cheeto to eat.

“Well, yeah, but I knew that she was ‘yogurt cup, banana peel, pretty smile girl’,” he replied in a pensive tone, which made you let out a soft giggle. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just… You’re such a dork,” you said as you let out a chuckle under your breath. You looked at him for a while and he smiled at you, seemingly appreciating you. He was so inexplicably charming.

For a while, you had crushed on Josh. You weren’t sure why or what is was—he was just… admirable. Sure, he was a janitor who gave off total loser vibes as he still lived with his parents, playing video games 24/7, but ever since you got mixed up into this mess, you were able to get to know him better. He was caring, selfless, thoughtful, cute, and funny. Definitely very charming—almost charmingly dorky. He was a good guy. He was doing everything he could to make sure that Tiger and Wolf wouldn’t kill Kronish. He was probably the most genuine person you ever knew.

After a while, you two had—instead of trying to look for any important biotic information—made fun of people’s files. Especially Stu for having his emergency contact as 9-1-1, because nobody loves that asshole of a guy.

You chuckled softly and continued to look at the rest of the files until one caught your attention. You took it out and gasped, looking at it with wide eyes and an open mouth. “‘Joshua Sasha Futturman’?”

He realized you had found his file and sighed in defeat. “It’s—It’s my grandmother’s name. It’s sentimental. Please give me—”

He attempted to grab it from you, but you laughed and pushed his grabby hands away from you, continuing to scan his file. “Hey, back off, buddy, or else I’m gonna… rub some ‘tree nuts’ on you…? So you can get… ‘golf-ball size hives and welts?’” You giggle as you looked at his list of allergies.

He looked at you with playful annoyance, frowning as you tease him. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry… Joshua Sasha…” You giggle, making him roll his eyes.

“Come on! I… I have nothing against you, it’s not fair!” He complains as you hand him his own file. He grabbed it, but didn’t take his eyes off you. “Just… Tell me something that I can make fun of you for too.”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and scoffed. “Uh? Hell no,” you replied, with a slight chuckle. “You’ll use it against me, like, any time we argue! I am not compromising—”

“C’mon, Y/n, please? Just to even it out?” He requested, in which you couldn’t help but finally amuse him.

“Okay, okay. Fine,” you groaned as you rested your head back completely against the file cabinet. “What do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Like… Any allergies or—?”

“Nope, I am actually not allergic to anything,” you chuckle, smiling at him.

Josh grinned at you and joked, “Oh? So is it safe for me to assume that you’re a biotic?”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. “Oh, please. Aren’t they supposed to be these perfect, really good-looking super-people? Like, you really think I could pass off as that?”

He gave a friendly smile, turned his head as he decided in his mind, and finally said, “Hm, maybe, yeah. Like, you could actually convince me.” You raised an eyebrow in disbelief and he took notice of your reaction. “I’m serious!”

“No, no, enough, Josh. I get that you’re just being nice, but—”

“No, Y/n, I’m serious, believe me!” He exclaimed with authenticity. “You’re actually really attractive!”

You found yourself really flustered as you heard this, trying to hold back a smile. Was he being for real? “What? No, you’re… You’re just saying that, shut up, Josh,” you scoffed, still not believing him. “Besides, I thought you were trying to find something that you can make fun of me for?”

“Y/n, I swear to you, I am not kidding! Like, if I were Tiger, I’d probably straight-up assume that you’re a biotic! Because of how unbelievably hot you are!” He pleaded, trying to get you to believe him. “Come on! Tiger and Wolf, they literally call them ‘perfs,’ Y/n, short for ‘perfect.’ And you…”

This made your eyes widen. And you tried your best to detect any eye twitch or fake smile on his face to find out if he was lying, but it was clear he wasn’t. After all, he was the most genuine person you ever knew. He was being true to every word.

“Wh-really? You… You think I’m perfect?” You asked him in a breath of disbelief, and a smile slowly tugging at your lips.

“Well, yeah, I mean of course! You are so pretty! And it’s not just your looks, but… I mean… Who else would agree to go on this mission with me and those really, unnecessarily mean assholes? Like, you had a choice to just leave, but you wanted to help me because you were my friend. You knew the consequences, but you stayed by my side anyway,” he said tenderly, smiling at you with a specific softness that tugged at your heartstrings. “And not only that, but, you’re funny. You’re smart. Like, really smart. I don’t think we would’ve made it this far without your ideas. And you’re kind. Super kind! Every time those two insult me, you immediately back me up! And you’re just… perfect. Like, sometimes I think to myself if I even deserve you because you’re just so… good.”

You were speechless. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know this was how he felt about you. Everything he said had made you feel so appreciated and so admired.

Instead of saying anything, so overwhelmed with affection, you took one of your hands to cup his face and pressed your lips to his, softly, in an innocent, tender kiss, that he immediately returned. You felt him smile in the kiss as you felt his hand lightly hold the side of your waist, bringing you closer.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you slowly opened your eyes after pulling away from the kiss, and your faces were still close, the two of you slightly laughing and smiling at each other so very intimately.

“Josh, I… I like you. Like, a lot,” you felt giddy as you chuckled, looking into his eyes deep with admiration. “You’re just… You’re so sweet. And charming. And.. cute. And so thoughtful! And fuck everything that Wolf and Tiger say about you, because I think you’re perfect the way you are. If you’re not their savior, then you’re definitely mine. ‘Specially back at the meth lab,” you two laughed as you remembered the time he punched someone for you. “The point is… I’ve really enjoyed the past few days with you… No matter how crazy they’ve been. And I don’t mind spending more adventures with you. Wherever you’ll be, I’ll be by your side. Whether it be through time and/or space.”

Josh was also slightly taken aback because even though he had liked you as well, he didn’t expect that you’d like him back, no matter how obvious you made it. He just didn’t expect anyone in general would like him romantically because he was always just sort of a loser.

“I… I really like you too, Y/n. I mean, I probably made it really obvious already, but… I really like you too. And you seem to nearly never believe me, so I swear to you, genuinely, Y/n, that I like you. Like… like honest to god,” he said, grinning softly, and you two leaned in to share another kiss, one that was less hesitant and bolder than the first.

“We should, um… We should probably get going,” you suggest as you look at the mess of all the files with a soft laugh.

“Oh yeah. And, um, clean these up and everything,” Josh agreed looking at all the papers on the floor, then back at you.

You looked at him with a slight smirk in your smile. “We could… We could do one more,” you offered as your smile grew wider.

“One more?” He asked brightly.

“We’re here,” you pointed out.

“We could,” he raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Let’s do it.” You grabbed another file to poke fun at one more employee for their personal info with Josh. Because really, anything else could wait.