#which honestly i will still not interact with you but in that case it's more of a respect thing

[shdwtouch]

not me openly admitting that shade lowkey takes after me. this was not intentional, I swear. uwu; she kinda just... ended up with an extra dose of who I am as a person, whereas most of my original characters receive much less.

I realized this when considering that shade is most likely homo leaning. and I was like, haha she's just like me ! an enby ace lesbian... and then the similarities just kept getting drawn. idk maybe I'm just overly tired.

also like. not gonna apologize ? she really isn't a self-insert. but its also like... creators are allowed to put themselves into what they make ! and I'm proud of shade, I really am. so I won't be made ashamed for traits we might share.

[moe-broey]

What did she mean by this. Btw.

LIKE. It is SUCH an interesting observation coming from Veronica SPECIFICALLY, someone who has been notoriously out of touch with emotions -- her own emotions, and also struggles significantly with processing other people's emotions and understanding their intent.

And like thinking about this like. Alfonse has a tendency to be sincere even when he doesn't want to be. He can't help it. No matter how guarded he is, that sincerity always shines through.

But when I think about Sharena, like. I never think of her as Insincere. I never think of her as Fake-Nice, like the way I view Henriette at times. Where it feels like there's something more unsettlingly detached underneath her warm smile and overly affectionate demeanor. Which isn't to say I believe Henriette is secretly evil or something, I just think she has Something going on that makes it so I have never completely trusted her as a character and would Not be surprised if she was hiding something.

When I think about Sharena, I think maybe she's like. Try-Hard Nice. It's very hard to explain what I mean. But I don't believe she's insincere. I don't believe she's hiding something like Henriette could be. I think she's desperate? And takes a methodical approach to relationships, where she's set out on A Goal, which is to make a friend. If I say the right thing and act the right way I will succeed in being the perfect friend. She's incredibly open, but is she really? Does she know how to be truly open? Has she ever just let herself, be?

ALSO incredibly fascinating the implications of this for Veronica, having noticed this and saying it so confidently. I haven't delved super deep into Veronica's character, but... I just think it's interesting, that she struggles so much to process these things, and yet seems to be able to detect when something is off and untrustworthy to her. Even MORE interesting is how all this plays out with Letizia, where she trusted her completely. Ofc, in that case, you have to consider the entire context of their relationship -- Veronica never having had a reason to distrust her. Unfortunately I don't have a lot I can say on that though (<- emotionally cannot finish Book 6)

Idk I just. Sometimes I'll be reminded of a dialogue and it'll infect me with brain worms LMFAO

[shrinevandal]

idrc about romantic izmk but when people are like izumakos dni i still just keep my distance because like. i don't /dislike/ them romantically either and also i feel like if you're the type of person who wants to put that on your dni then you probably don't have a very good take on their relationship as a whole, whether romantically or not. and i simply don't wanna interact with you either at that point

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[sistertotheknowitall]

Masterpost

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

Part one

[hellofears]

wasn't me no one in this home of mine voted for anything of the sort and most likely anyone I know didn't either. I forget how many ppl live in the uk sometimes peace and love to the william wanters well and truly

[endearng]

Special guest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: Olivia's birthday is coming up. She has a special guest in mind. WC: 1.7k Warnings: mentions of absent fathers (sorry); reader is borderline paranoid about letting her kid down; they are pining hard - Spencer looks at reader not so respectfully. Please, let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I try my best to not describe the reader so that everyone feels included, but I feel like I should work better on that. If you have any advice on it, I'd be very thankful to hear it! Second fic in less than 24h, ohmy. This is a second part to 'Stranger danger' Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

A few weeks had passed after the incident with the power in your building. Since then, you saw Spencer sometimes and he always greeted you politely. Olivia once told you that she liked him so much because he was a nice ghost — he told her stories about the books he read and she absolutely loved them, going to the point of asking if she could borrow them once he had finished reading.

Little did she know, she would never have to wait long.

Their interactions always made you speechless. How was your 5-year-old daughter better than you at starting conversations? You could barely look him in the eye, despite the fact that he always made sure to flash you the brightest smiles. You reciprocated, but then Olivia always had something to say: about his funny clothes, about the book she was reading for school, about your moments together — you had a scheduled commitment every Friday, to take Olivia to wherever she wanted to go. She was very observant, and, just like you, had the habit of taking mental notes of the beautiful places you saw during your walks. That's how she knew where the public library was and knew the best coffee in town — she demanded having the same beverage as you, but you told the barista secretly to make it decaf.

As you both put on your shoes in the morning to leave the apartment, you said, "Oli, your birthday is coming up. Do you want to do anything with mommy?"

"I want a birthday party."

That made you freeze in your tracks for a moment. You've been avoiding throwing birthday parties for two years now, because Olivia's day always ended with a tinge of heartbreak by the absence of her father, who had decided to leave the both of you and move overseas to, maybe, start over. It hurt you to try to comfort her with something you didn't have control of, but you did it anyway because you'd rather hurt yourself than let your baby go through that kind of disappointment alone. You didn't really know what he was up to, and honestly, you didn't want to, either. You were doing just fine without him, but she was his daughter and still a child, so you knew she still missed him.

Your hands were shaking slightly as you tied her shoelaces. "Bunny ears, remember?" You asked softly, showing her how to do it: you always did it in the mornings, but you made sure to teach her in case they undid during her day at school. She nodded at you, flashing a little toothless smile. "Okay, baby, we'll do that," you smiled, trying to ease off the tension.

"I want invitation cards. Like the ones you had!" She said, excitedly. You huffed out a laugh, endeared by the fact that she remembered all the papers you showed her with photos and other memories of your childhood.

"No problem, baby," you said, getting up, smoothing your pencil skirt and opening the door. She went to the hall to press the elevator button, "we can do it." You said, more to yourself than to her.

Two weeks passed and you had everything ready for Olivia's birthday with the help of your closests friends, Victoria and Jude. You were planning on throwing her party at your parents' house, which had a big, beautiful yard with space enough for the kids to play all they wanted. You had ordered Olivia's favorite cake, red velvet, and a lot of other treats that you knew she loved.

"You know she'll be drunk on sugar, right?" Victoria asked, laughing. She remembered the last time she took Olivia to the movies and she was electric during the way back.

"It's her birthday, once a year won't kill her. Maybe it'll kill me, but eh, what's the matter?" You joked lightly and your friends laughed.

Jude had a checklist in her hands. "Okay, let's go over this so we can go back to our yearly drinking like there's no tomorrow date. We have the place, the food, the decoration... oh, no. Where are the invitations?"

"Oh, I got it. They're in my room. I had to put it away because Oli wanted to read them over and over again."

They nodded as you left your living room, walking down the hall so you could get said invitations. You felt dread creeping up on you when you couldn't find them in the top drawer of your bedside table. "I can't find them!" You yelled loud enough for the women to hear you.

"Are you sure you placed them here?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Not sure what happened, though." You murmured, already feeling a little disappointed. "I gotta look for it now. She drew it herself and I took a lot of copies. I can't possibly tell her I lost them, she would be heartbroken." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Victoria approached you to rub your arm, trying to comfort you. "Hey, we can look for it. We still have time." Jude said, smiling reassuringly.

"I know, I just don't wanna be too late." You said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

So, you started looking for it in every corner of your apartment. You stayed in your bedroom, while Jude and Victoria went to Olivia's. You had cleaned the apartment today, a Saturday, when your daughter usually went to your parents', so that you'd have free time to spend and catch up with your friends. It was almost sundown, daylight fading softly and the lighting in your room was becoming darker as time went by. Suddenly, you heard your bell. Weird. You weren't expecting anybody.

"I'll get that!" You let your friends know.

Opening the door, you weren't expecting your neighbor. Rephrasing: the neighbor who Olivia adored so much. Spencer. That works, too. He has a name, after all. "Hey, hi!" He greeted you with a grin, looking shy.

"Hey, you!" You greeted him back. "Is everything okay?" You asked, a little unsure.

You took in his appearance. He looked tired, that's for sure, but it didn't stop him from looking like the most gorgeous man in existence. He wore his usual attire, carrying his caramel satchel leather bag. You didn't have an immediate answer, so you gulped when you noticed that you were looking a little longer than what's socially acceptable.

"Yeah, it's fine," he chuckled, unable to hold your stare for a moment longer. He considered, for a moment, that your daughter was the element needed for him to have a little confidence to speak when you were around. Well, shit. "I — um. I think these belong to you. I found it when I opened the door to my apartment." He extended you a bunch of papers. You blushed. You busied yourself so much with admiring him that you failed to notice that he had something in his hands.

He studied you for a moment. You looked beautiful that day. Not that you didn't look beautiful all the times you've seen him, but oh, well. Like the first time you met, you were wearing a dress. It was blue and it stopped mid-thigh. He had to stop himself from gulping at the sight of your bare, plush legs. It was different from what he was used to seeing you wear during working days, during the eventual elevator meetings. The dress hugged your curves beautifully, there was no question, like it had been made just for you. Your hair was loose and it fell over your shoulders. When you first answered the door, you had a worried frown on your face, but it quickly disappeared with his words. He felt relieved to see you get rid of your distress.

"Oh, goodness! Sorry about that. I was just looking for these." You gladly took them from his hand and your fingers accidentally brushed his. His hands were warm. "Olivia must have slided them under your door gap," you laughed nervously. You could feel two pairs of eyes looking at the interaction before them. You needed to brace yourself for their questions and very much possible teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. I supposed she did that, too." He laughed, quietly.

You thought for a moment. "You know, you should go. She really likes you. Talks about your conversations all the time and says she misses you when we don't run into you at some point." You revealed. It made Spencer's heart soar in his chest.

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile, even if he couldn't believe it. Not that you were a liar, but that it meant so much to your daughter to talk to him now and then. He felt alive at that moment, felt wanted. “I don’t want to impose.”

"Yeah, I mean, no! No problem, you wouldn’t be. We’d like to have you." You said, smile adorning your face. You took a card from your hands, offering it to him. "With us, I mean. It's going to be at my parents' house, we'll have a bunch of kids running around and cake." You surely looked like an idiot.

We’d like to have you, was all that he could hear.

Did you want him there for him or just because he was kind to your daughter?

Either way, "Thanks. I'll do my best to be there." He said, utterly happy. Saying your name lowly, followed by a 'goodbye', made your heart jump in your chest. You replied with a wave and a small grin. Your cheeks were sore from all the smiling. It was inevitable.

You turned around and had barely closed the door when Jude said, a little louder than her usual tone, "So, I see you found the invitation cards. I hope you gave one for Olivia's birthday party, not for a hot date." She playfully scolded you.

With wide eyes, you banged the door closed and turned around to yell, "Jude! What???"

Little did you know, Spencer heard it all. You know, thin walls, small distance and all. He grinned to himself, face flushed a deep red.

He was definitely looking forward to seeing you. And Olivia, too, of course. It was her birthday, after all.

[priniya]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FORTS AND DADDY TIME! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. oscar piastri x leclerc!wife!reader

summary. when you need to stay at work for longer than expected, you leave oscar with your daughter. when you come home earlier than your husband thought, the cutest scene plays in front of you.

notes. tysm for loving my previous dad!oscar fic!!! this one’s also not proofread but lets pretend like there is not a single mistake in here 😙😙😙

days like this were the hardest, especially with the thought of oscar’s summer break inevitable ending occupying your mind. every year, you wanted to make sure you had spent the maximum time with him and chloe, before parting your ways for a while again. going back to the office, while you were spending the precious time with your husband and daughter, was something you hated, mostly, because chloe was the biggest daddy’s girl on earth. some people might’ve gotten jealous over the fact that they’re not their baby’s favorite parent, but you loved watching oscar interact with chloe.

but honestly, leaving them alone was still a bit of a stressful situation for you and your emotions were all over the place as you tried writing down all the necessary things just in case oscsr forgets, which wasn’t likely to happen, but still — you wanted to be more than sure.

“baby, i know how to look after chloe.” oscar laughed softly, his arms wrapped around your waist as he stood behind, placing a single kiss on your neck. “we’re gonna have much fun today, right, squish?” he asked, when the little girl leaned on his leg, looking up at the two of you with a sweet smile. she nodded eagerly, earning a small chuckle from you.

“i good girl.” chloe replied confidently, wrapping her arms around oscar’s leg, wanting to stay as close to him as possible, despite it was you the one leaving (even if it was for a few long hours). “mommy good girl, too! and daddy good girl, too too!” the two of you had to stifle a laugh as your daughter praised you on being good girls.

a few minutes later, quite a couple of reassuring words from your husband, a few wet, sloppy kisses on your cheeks and a literal push out of the door and oscar was left with your little squish. at first everything was calm, chloe was sprawled out on the carpet, playing with her little’s pet shops collection, making a little voice-over, while your husband was preparing a strawberry smoothie for her.

though, before he knew it, he was dressed in one of your dresses, wearing a plastic tiara on his head with stickers plastered all over his cheeks, while sitting at chloe’s small, colourful table with some of her favorite plushies (a panda named jimmy, a koala named arty [after her favorite uncle], ginny the giraffe and daphne the dolphin).

“c’mon, princess squish, do a spin for daddy.” oscar smiled, watching as his daughter did a spin. he helped her get into her purple tutu dress, put a tiara and a few hair clips in the strands of her blond hair. to make her princess tea party experience even better, he took some of your eyeshadow palettes and put some on her to match her purple dress.

“i so pretty, daddy!” she squeaked happily, doing a little dance. “tea?” she asks as she plops down on her dad’s lap, pouring a pretend tea into his pink cup. “tasty, tasty.” she nodded, taking a sip.

“yeah, you’re my pretty princess, squish.” oscar chuckled, earning himself one of the most beautiful views in the world — his daughter grinning, showing him her baby teeth. your husband couldn’t help but to grin back at her, feeling her little arms wrap around his neck as she went in for a hug.

oscar was a sucker for moment like those, as much as he wished you were there to witness it, he loved spending time with chloe, seeing her grow up every day, noticing those slight changes in the way she constructed her sentences and how the incoherent babbling started to turn into actual words and sentences. he was counting down the days till she was old enough to not tire you out whenever on a flight, so he could see her happy face after a race and to show her the beauties of the world on a free day. god, she was the the most important person in the world for him in a way he could drop everything to make sure she was happy.

his heart ached painfully, every time he was away from you and chloe for longer than a few days and with his hectic schedule. everything seemed to be a lot better, when his lucky charms were next to him.

the princess tea party went on for almost another hour until the princess hosting it started to slowly get tired and tired, snuggling up to him after they finished cleaning everything up. it took them some time, because she had to give each of her plushies a few kisses before placing them in her bed, tucking them in. “you’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you, baby?” he chuckled, watching her as he leaned on the doorframe of her room.

she tilted her head with a tiny smile as she ran towards her dad, unfortunately, she tripped on the edge of the carpet, scraping her knees at the friction as she fell. tears started falling down her cheeks in an instant and oscar’s heart broke in half. he knew accidents happen all the time, but he wasn’t prepared for one involving his daughter, when he was all alone, even if it was just a small scratch.

“shh, hey, what’s with the fuss?” he asked in a calm voice, gently picking her up. your husband placed a few soft kisses on chloe’s wet cheek to calm her down. “s’okay, daddy’s gonna take care of your ouchie.” he reassured as she nuzzled her teary face against his neck, sniffling quietly.

“fait mal, daddy.” she sniffled. oscar was glad that once in a while, your brothers wanted to mess with him and spoke only in french before chloe was born, so he could pick up on what his daughter was saying. hurts.

“i know, squish.” he sighed, gently sitting her down on the couch, telling his baby to sit still, while she tried to wipe away her flowing cheeks. he sprayed antiseptic on her scratches, holding her hand with his free one. a small gasp left his daughter’s lips as the spray coated her ouchies. “such a brave, girl.” he coaxed, placing two band-aids on her disinfected knees (with puppies, of course). when her face was no longer in tears, a sad pout appeared on her lips, making oscar’s stomach turn.

“how about, we make a blanket fort and watch some cartoon before you go to sleep, hm?” he suggested, the pout disappearing in a second, being replaced my a grin. a blanket fort? that sounds super cool. he pulled a few chairs together, putting a blanket on top of it as chloe’s eyes widened in shock and excitement.

the final product was breathtaking, at least for chloe, because oscar did everything he could to make the blanket fort look magical as he put pillows on the floor, put up lights and brought his ipad to play chloe’s favorite movie.

before he knew it, his little girl was curled up against his side, his hand gently moving up and down against her back as her head rested on the side of his chest. her eyes were slowly closing, but she wanted to stay in the fort and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a tantrum of a sleepy, cranky little girl.

when you came back from work, the apartment looked clean, as if oscar sedated your little ball of energy and hired a cleaning company. that was your thought process, until you noticed a blanket fort in the living room and your heart melted like a chocolate in a water bath. you quietly took off your shoes and tiptoed to the fort, peaking inside. seeing the view completely shattered your heart in the most positive way possible.

“you’re back already?” oscar asked quietly, not wanting to disturb chloe’s sleep as she was laying down on his chest. “thought it’d take a little longer.” he smiled affectionately at you.

“think there’s some room for me?” your mouth curled into a small beam as he nodded, quickly taking a spot next to him, finally noticing that he’s wearing one of your dresses and you had to stiffle a laugh.

oscar noticed your expression and groaned quietly. “we had a princess party.” he explained, though the pretend angered look quickly dissolved, replaced by a playful smile. “your daughter didn’t let me be a prince, so i had to stole one of your dresses. i’ll show you the photos tomorrow morning.” he kissed your temple as you snuggled up closer, your hand gently rubbing chloe’s back.

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[icarryitin]

Episode 16: Pretty

spencer reid/gn!reader

i realised i’ve done a lot of introspective narratives about Feelings™️ but not a whole lot of interaction so pls have some as a treat ilu🧡

series masterlist

word count: 1.9k // warnings: there is so much pining in here it could be a forest

summary: Late nights in strange towns lead to the most unexpected conversations and confessions.

You can’t sleep.

Sheep have been counted over, and over, and over again and still, it evades you. For a day where you’d been looking forward to nothing more than collapsing into bed at the end of it; you’re not best pleased. It’s a rough case as it is, you don’t want to be sleep deprived on top of everything else. But it just isn’t happening.

You count seventy three individual little swirly panels on the ceiling before you decide to get up. A walk might go a fair way to unravel your nerves enough to get a couple of hours, at least you hope it will.

With your jacket thrown over your old college hoodie, you don’t bother changing your sweatpants for jeans, and just slip your feet into your boots. Garcia would be outraged at the clashing colours. The look won’t win any best dressed awards, but at this time of night you’re more concerned with clipping your holster in place. You’re not taking any chances. Especially not with the victimology of this case - although you do have the advantage of knowing the Unsub is out there somewhere. It’s still not an overly comforting thought. But you’re out of options, it’s this or counting the rest of the ceiling panels and, frankly, you’re sure you’ll go blind if you have to stare at plaster swirls for much longer. So you tuck your phone and room key into your coat pockets, and leave the dingy little room behind for a while.

The hotel is, thankfully, almost completely dead, save for the night manager dozing at the front desk. Faded carpet plush under your feet, you’re quiet as you descend the stairs to the lobby and its dimmed lights. The world is dark outside the front doors and you hesitate. Is it really the best idea? To walk around in a city that’s home to a serial killer whose victims bear a striking resemblance to yourself? No, no it’s not. Especially not at, you tug your phone out of your pocket to check the time - jesus, two o’clock in the morning.

“Hey, you.”

It would honestly be wrong to say you’re not expecting his voice - if you were to guess which of the team would still be up and about at this time of night, you’d pick Spencer. It’s a no-brainer.

“Hey, me. Couldn’t sleep either?” Your smile is more strained than you mean for it to be when you turn it to him in response, he must have just come back, snuck in unnoticed while you were glaring at the time on your phone. He’s similarly dressed, coat huddled around mismatched pyjamas, another victim of case-induced insomnia then. His eyes are tired, they are more often than not these days. Yours aren’t all that better.

There’s a comfortable moment of silence where you just exist together, in the hushed quiet of the hotel lobby. Breathing in the calm of the night. It almost makes up for the chaos you know awaits the team in the morning.

“Is it nice out?” You ask, toeing the carpet with your scuffed boot.

“You’re not going for a walk, are you?”

“I’m armed, genius, and I’m twice as scary as anything out there.”

Spencer just huffs your name through an exasperated sigh and looks at you as you waltz past him with your hands in your pockets, turning at the waist to watch you go.

“So come with me.” There’s the vaguest hint of a teasing smile on your lips as you walk backwards towards to the front doors. He’s still not moved when you spin on your heel to push them open and walk off into the night - but you could live a hundred lives and still know the footsteps that follow you down the concrete steps anywhere.

He’s not exactly intimidating, but having him by your side in the small hours makes you feel safer than the weight of the gun at your hip ever could. You try not to think too hard about what that means.

“How many ceiling panels are in your room?” Your breath puffs out in a cloud, words winding around each other in the chill of the just about morning.

“A hundred and nine, if you count the ones that are cut in half.”

“Damn, I gave up at seventy three.”

“I’m not sure how much I believe that, I’ve never seen you give up on anything.” Spencer kicks a pebble into the road at the same moment your feet stop working.

To think he’s paid enough attention to you to notice a thing like that. Maybe you should expect it, especially being part of the team that studies human behaviour, but it still takes you by surprise. The idea that he could, would want to, notice things about you. It’s borderline dangerous. Stubbornness isn’t cute - you’ve been accused of being like a dog with a bone when it comes to your theories more than once. But the way he says it so casually yet so reverently, like it’s something to be proud of, like it’s something he admires. You just about manage to get your legs to cooperate before he can realise you’ve fallen a step behind.

He offers his elbow to you, an uncharacteristic first move, and you almost don’t know what to make of it. Spencer doesn’t initiate contact, ever. Or at least, you’ve never known him to unless it’s to check your tac-vest, and yet here he is. Hands in his pockets, sticking his arm out for you to take. You’re sliding your own arm through his before you even really realise it. Well, it would be rude not to wouldn’t it? When he’s offered so kindly?

In the name of safety, presumably. When there’s a killer on the loose and you just so happen to fit the victimology. Keeping you close is a precaution. You steer the conversation towards the case, if neither of you are resting then you might as well be trying to unravel the latest psycho’s motivations. Another precaution, although a little selfish this time around, to save your heart from falling even further for the man beside you.

“Statistically, people who are attractive are targeted more often that those who aren’t. This Unsub isn’t exactly going against the grain, he’s picking pretty victims.” He rattles off the thought as though it doesn’t threaten to stop your heart in your chest.

It was Spencer who’d pointed out the striking similarities between you and the victims in the first place.

“Doctor Reid, do you think I’m pretty?” Your scandalised gasp matches the hands you press against your chest in faux-shock. And, for once in his life, he doesn’t seem to have any words. He just stands there beside you, gulping like a fish. You like him too much to leave him squirming any longer than he already has.

“I, uh-“ He scrambles for a response.

“Because you’d be right, I am pretty.”

The answering chuckle you get is enough to encourage you to link your arm back through his.

“What you’re saying is,” You press on, shaking off the moment, giving him the time to recover, “There’s no shock factor. Single bullet to the head, dumped unceremoniously with the trash. There’s nothing that says ‘hey look at me’ about this guy.”

Spencer hums in agreement, suddenly very interested in his shoes as they traipse along the drizzle dampened pavement beside yours, and the conversation lulls. But you don’t mind. It’s never an uncomfortable silence with him, it never has been. You’re both more than content to just exist in the same space together - his is a calming presence, for all his nervous energy. There’s never any expectation to be anyone but yourself when you’re around him, no judgement, no pressure.

You’re more than happy to trundle along beside him between the streetlights, dodging puddles, the weight of your linked arms nestled comfortably between you. Except, you’re a profiler. So, for all his valiant efforts to keep your suspicions to a minimum, they’re just not quite effective enough. One glance at his face confirms that he’s thinking far too hard about something. You let your shoulder knock into his, your elbow in his side jolting him out of his thoughts.

“You’re doing it again.” It almost feels blasphemous to disturb the peace that’s settled over you.

Spencer releases his lip from between his teeth.

“There’s something we’re missing.”

“We’ll find it. With fresh eyes in the morning, I bet it smacks us right in the face.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, and you’d have to agree with him there, but the furrow of his brow relaxes at your gentle reassurance. That’s enough for the moment.

A car door slams up the street and makes you both jump. For all the security the gun at your hip awards you, you’re still a little on edge. It’s just you, Spencer, and the door-slammer on the street - though the stranger seems to be so absorbed in his own world that he barely registers the pair of you. While you’re both fairly confident that the man walking towards you isn’t the Unsub, Spencer tugs you closer into his side by your linked arms all the same. He makes sure he’s solid where he stands between you and the passing stranger, even though you both know he wouldn’t stand a chance in that fight with his lanky frame. There isn’t a bit of you that minds the protection. Something catches in your chest, blooming, warming you from the inside out. It’s dangerous.

You’re not sure when you looped back onto yourselves, but the shadow of the hotel looms and suddenly there’s plush carpet under your feet again. Part of you is glad that your chances to embarrass yourself tonight are numbered. He’d be kind enough not to point it out if you did, though.

The elevator is too close to the front doors, there aren’t enough storeys to pass to get to the floor commandeered by the team, and your rooms are the first in the hallway. Doors opposite each other, the irony of the parallel isn’t lost on you. But it’s so rare that you get to spend time with him without any external pressures of a case or the prying eyes of more than a few colleagues. It feels a little unfair that the time has gone so quickly - an hour, your phone confirms when the screen lights up as you fish around in your pocket for your room key. There’s that pang in your chest again, the one that makes you feel like an impatient child. You know you can’t have him the way you want, you know why you can’t, you know it would probably end in heartbreak for everyone. But god, do you want him. It’d be worth every painful second.

Spencer’s voice across the hall stops your hand, room card outstretched halfway to the scanner in your fingers.

“For the record, I do.”

He’s chewing his lip again.

“You do what?”

You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. But neither of you will admit to it out loud. So it just hangs there, in the air between you, as you stand in front of your respective hotel room doors for a moment longer. And then he’s in his room, and you’re swiping your own keycard through the slot, and you’re shut away again. No less wired than you were when you left - but it’s hard to find it in yourself to worry about the sleep you definitely won’t be getting tonight, there’s no doubt about that.

Because Spencer Reid thinks you’re pretty.

if you’re reading this then thank you i love you i owe you my life i can’t wait to put these guys in more situations 🧡🧡🧡

[kuroosdarling]

LIKE A VIRGIN — ༉‧₊˚.

ft gojo satoru !

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. unprotected sex, fingering, lots of praise, creampie, aftercare — WC : 2.4k

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after years of pining after each other, the moment has finally come. gojo was never one to be shy about having sex but it turns out being intimate was a whole different thing.

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : i promise that one day i’ll cut back on writing lovesick characters but sadly today is not that day hehe enjoy ! <3

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

loving satoru is holding the notion that while you may be star crossed lovers, the cosmos severely underestimated how much love he held for you.

instead of crossing paths, he collided into you, changing the scope of your world with a simple introduction that had the universe questioning why it even bothered to try to keep you two apart in the first place.

time has passed since then but that connection has always remained, the two of you circling around each other in a dance of fate. all it takes is for one of you to leap, and since gojo never did — it was up to you.

so you leapt.

and it was a wondrous blur, the planet aligning for this singular event that had all the stars on the edge of their seats. it all brought you to this moment, mouth crashing together in a hurried flurry, setting your body ablaze.

whispers of endearment flood out of your mouth and into his head, leaving it reeling in its wake. you could tell a part of him was still missing, lurking in the shadows, too scared to come out just yet.

it didn’t bother you at first, not when his lips never left yours — nibbling your bottom lip anytime you tried to break for air.

but the damned blindfold still hung around his face, covering the eyes you so desperately want to see. he didn’t actively have his infinity on but the distance between you could’ve fooled you.

annoyance started to flicker within you, twirling around with the unabridged want and causing the fire to spread. you finally pull away from his kiss, leaving you breathless.

but he kept on, kissing down your neck and not even sparing a glance at you. but who could tell with the dark blue fabric wrapped around his head. a part of you envied it for a second, craving that level of closeness it shares with its holder.

there was a moment of hesitance, one so short that if you weren’t so hyper focused on him, you would’ve missed it. at first, you shook it off, opting to help him out by unsnapping your bra and sliding it off.

the second the fabric hit the floor, gojo pounced, shoving his face between your tits before enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. you mewl at the sensation which only has him sucking a little harder before he switches to the other side.

“gojo.” you coo, trying to pull him back up so you can properly look at him. but he kept kissing your chest, leaving little marks that you’ll carry with you for the days to come.

you watch as his hands tremble slightly, the way his breathing was uneven. all of it could’ve been chalked up to the heated moment, but something told you that wasn’t the case.

“gojo. why are you acting like this? you’re not a virgin, are you?” you tease him despite knowing he’s not. a foolish attempt to cover up the insecurity on why he felt the need to keep a barrier up with you.

the words didn’t come out as gracefully as you wanted but you’d figure he’d rip your clothes off by now, flip you over, and start fucking into you like he did with the other women he used to bring over. but he could barely look at you. and it annoyed you.

“no but-“ a pause. “you kind of make me feel like one, though.” he said honestly. there wasn’t his usual overly playful lilt in his voice. instead, it was coated with something a little more serious — more raw.

“what? how?” you try to pivot so you can look at him, but he keeps you in place.

“because it’s you. the other women i’ve slept with have never made it past that, it was always just sex. but you? it’s so different, so new.”

“gojo, i-“

“please, call me satoru.” he continues placing kisses along your neck, running his lips back and forth until he was sure he covered every inch with his affection. “i’ve wanted you for so long, since the day i met you.”

“satoru,” you start, but your breath hitches as his hand starts gliding down your body, hiking your skirt up as it trails back up.

“and you just had to wear this skirt tonight.” he almost groaned into your neck, his fingers trailing up your thigh. everything felt so suffocating, like if he didn’t kiss you right then and there, you’d never recover. “always drove me so crazy because all i wanted to do was flip it up and sink my dick into you.”

“well there’s nothing stopping you now.” you tease.

and that’s all it took to flip the switch.

finally, he was a man of action, pulling back and hastily removing his blindfold so he’d let you look into his beautiful eyes. the normally bright blue color was quickly descending into a dark abyss, his pupils looking wider than you’d ever seen them — almost a little crazed.

the moment your eyes met his, you felt all the walls crashing down into a pile of rubble at your feet. the explosion was instantaneous as the sparkled ones met yours, holding nothing but a swirl of love and lust. utter devotion that he was ready to pour into you.

“been waiting for this for too long.” the words rushed out of him in a slight whine as he leaned in, melding his lips against yours in a filthy kiss that had you instantly hooking your leg around his waist.

his hands pushed you further into the bed, before it trailed up your leg to keep it in place. his clothed cock started grinding up against your core and it was already all too consuming. his fingers trailed up your legs before dancing along your inner thigh. the movement tickling you but gojo isn’t letting up from the kiss.

he pulls back for a second, his slightly sweaty forehead leaning on yours as he looks down to where his hand grazes along your cunt. your hips buck up at the sensation. gojo’s glossy lips slightly part as he rips your panties down your legs.

before you can call out in protest, he’s sliding one lengthy, lithe finger in your already sopping pussy. his focus goes back to your face as you let out a mewl, already humping his hand for more.

“you want more?” he asks, whispering against your lips. he feels your breath swirl with his but he won’t connect with you — not until he has an answer. you can only nod, moving your hips faster. “how much can you take?”

“all of it-“ your mind is already fading fast, pleasure crawling up your body with each thrust gojo’s finger gives you.

he adds a second finger and it’s all it took to have you unravel around him, clawing at his hair — his back, your hands roaming all over him to find purchase as you squeeze around his digits. he watches in awe, mesmerized by how beautiful you are.

with a slight pop, his fingers slide out of you and directly into his mouth. he groans unashamedly at the taste, eyes fluttering shut as if it would help him savor it a little more.

you move to get up, to get closer to him but he lightly pushes you back on the bed, opting to grab your ankles and hike you closer to the edge.

“i hope you weren’t lying earlier when you said you could take it all.” he unzips his pants, pulling out his leaky cock, precum already drooling off the sides. he gives it a few pumps, showcasing how long he is, relishing in the small gulp you give out. “because you’re about to get it all.”

your fingers weave themselves into the sheets as if it will ground you from the way gojo was trying to split you in half with his cock. with a soft groan, he eases the tip in. slowly pushing in, inch by inch.

even though he’s taking it slow, his whole body is screaming at him to hurry up. hell, even your body was suggesting it as you greedily sucked him in.

but it was so much better this way. the way your moans and his groans meshed together in the air paired with your warm, tight walls pull him in, had him wanting to savor this moment for as long as he could.

besides, if he pushed in like he wanted to, he’d probably cum on the spot. and since you already made a teasing comment about him being a virgin earlier — he decided it was best to hold back right now.

but then he bottomed out and he’s never heard a sweeter cry fall from anyone’s lips. tearing his eyes away from where you two were now fully connected, he trailed back up to your blissed out face.

“satoru-“ you coo up at him, reaching your arms up to touch him. “move, please.”

once your arms entangle themselves around his neck, he pulls back out. another whine fell from your mouth and had him driving back into you, thrusting like his life depended on it.

after years of repressing his feelings, of acting like he didn’t care about you even though he was pretty sure you were the reason the earth spun — he finally got to be with you. finally felt like he was good enough to have you like this, let alone touch you.

and the way you sang for him had him chasing a high he doesn’t think he’ll ever reach with anyone else. you were it for him and this just further proved that point.

“yeah, fuck, just like that.” he grunts your name by your ear, slipping closer to your body as he desperately keeps pushing into you. he needed to hear you say it, needed that validation to keep him going. “you look so pretty when you take this dick. who’s — shit — who’s fucking you so good, huh?”

“you!” you cry out, digging your fingers in his back. “you are-“

“you're so good for me, feel s’good around me, fucking made for me.” he keeps babbling as his fingers quickly reach down to twirl around your neglected nub, causing you to cry out his name again. the sound was heavenly and he never thought he’d have a chance to hear an angel sing, but here he was — blessed as can be. “this pussy is so good, best i’ve ever had. want it to be all mine.”

“it is! it’s all yours, satoru!” you hiccup, his thrusts paired with the way he was playing with your clit was sending you into overdrive. he let out a moan as you clenched around him.

burying his face in your neck, he starts to leave little love bites, sucking and licking your neck to his hearts content. he felt the familiar white hot sensation rush shoot through his body, but he’d be damned if he came before you.

“gonna cum for me, baby? need to feel you cum on my cock.” he encouraged you. “need to see your pretty face as you do it, too.”

his pretty eyes were trained on your face, and it was all too much for you. he watched as your eyes roll to the back of your head, your lips calling out his name. the way your cunt squeezed his cock had him gasping out for air.

his hips stuttered as you kept pulsing around him, trying his best to fuck you through your orgasm before he inevitably finished. your legs locked behind him, pushing him in deeper — if that was even possible.

he moaned out your name as his thighs trembled, pushing his hips flush against yours as he felt himself pump all of his cum into you. after a few final, weak thrusts, he stills inside of you. he was absolutely spent but used the last bit of his energy to caress your face, tucking his finger under your chin and bringing you in for a sweet kiss.

“there’s no one quite like you, is there?” he whispered against your lips like it was a secret he was confirming with himself. “how’re you feeling?”

“i’m good.” you almost slur, blissed out from the pleasure that was still easing itself throughout your body. he pressed his lips on your forehead before sitting up a bit.

“i’ll be back in a minute, sweet thing.” he kisses your head again for good measure as he grabs a towel from the bathroom. his eyes trail over to the tub he had in there and an idea popped into his head. he’s never done this kind of thing before, but for you? he’d do anything.

starting up the bath, he adds different oils and soaps into it. lavender wafted through his nose and once he was satisfied with the water temperature, he came back for you.

“ready for your bath?” he murmurs, scooping you up in his arms.

“you drew a bath?” you question, shock evident in all of your features. he just laughs, bringing you into the bathroom. he eases you in before getting in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“only the best for my best girl, right?” he presses a kiss against your ear before nuzzling into your neck. you let out a content hum, leaning back into his arms.

there was a quiet beat, a moment where the two of you could just enjoy the closeness together as you came down from your highs. gojo cant tell if it’s his proximity to you or the soothing scent of lavender infiltrating his mind, but it has him wanting to say those three little words he’s never said to anyone — reserving it just for you in a moment like this.

“i love you.” the words tumble out of his mouth and into your ear. he can almost feel you shiver as you take in what he just said. he didn’t feel any fear, he knew you’d say it back.

and for something he ran from his whole life, it’s never felt easier. his world shifting on his axis as you return those three words to him, finally capturing his heart and never letting him go.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Twitter: "Exciting! Some (completely uninformed) thoughts: A closer alignment with Mass Effect's style was inevitable, I suppose, but means both teams in Edmonton are working from the same premise. Which likely means good things for gameplay, I suppose. It probably also means a more action-y style where you control your PC but don't directly control your two chosen companions. You maybe do "shouts" to direct them in a very general sense. Which I'm less enthused about, personally, but... meh, I guess we'll see. Insofar as the new name goes it's fine, I guess, if the intent is to put less focus on Solas? Which maybe it is. So long as fans don't settle on DAVG as the acronym it's all good. The writing team will knock it out of the park, regardless. That much, at least, is guaranteed. :)" [source, two, three] --- DG: "Patrick and Sheryl remain, yeah, and both Mary and Luke still participated prior to the layoff. So DAV isn't going to hurt, insofar as its writing goes. The old gang was mostly all still assembled." [source] --- DG: "I earnestly believe that Patrick would rather die horribly than not write party banter. It is literally the most fun you can have as a Bio writer." [source] --- Twitter user: "The banters are some of my favourite moments in Dragon Age. So I hope so. I've seen fans saying we'll get less banter due to only have two companions in your team but I don't think that'll be the case." DG: "Less *variety* of banter while out running around, sure. Less *interaction* with the 7 companions? Well, that depends on what happens at your home base. If ME is the template, there was no shortage of companion interactions on the ship." [source] --- DG: "In my experience, EA always favored Mass Effect's style and believed it's inherently more marketable - actual sales numbers of DA or any other more traditional RPG be damned, honestly." [source]

[mourningsbane]

regarding the newest comic post, a lot of ppl are saying honeyspring would never harm a kit and that her "gift" isn't meant to be malicious. but, i mean, if it IS mourningsbane, she might be giving it to sweetkit in hopes she will eat it, pass away, and thus be able to join her in her weird limbo afterlife so she doesn't have to be alone anymore. that's a recurring theme that seems to be honeyspring's biggest issue: she doesnt want to be alone.

yes sweetkit talks to her now, but there is still the disconnect that sweetkit is alive and honeyspring is not. honeyspring also cant communicate easily anymore; nowhere near the way that sweetkit and other living cats can. honeyspring is limited in terms of communication with most of it seeming to rely on symbolism or physically visible things.

sweetkit has other clanmates to interact with and a life she has to live filled with responsibilities, events, etc. as she grows up in the clan. she can't give honeyspring her undivided attention and whenever she is away living her own life, honeyspring is left alone, waiting and hoping that sweetkit will come back (which is never a 100% certain thing.)

on the topic of sweetkit growing up, that's the thing: she's going to grow up. while kits may be less judgmental and indifferent to honeyspring's appearance, as sweetkit gets older, she may get more perturbed by honeysprings appearance and/or discover honeyspring's story and make the connection that shes been talking to a dead cat all this time. that being said, she might not want to even be around honeyspring anymore and might even fear her. if she fears her or doesnt want to see her anymore, honeyspring will have lost their only friend, rendering them completely and utterly alone (which, again, seems to be her biggest source of distress.)

on top of this, honeyspring lost her kits (whether u take that to mean they died or they became... Not Kits) so if sweetkit joins them, they can finally be the mother/parent they were meant to be but was denied so cruely. in this case, sweetkit won't get older. she will remain a kit forever, so honeyspring can be a mother/parent to sweetkit and cherish the joys of mother/parenthood forever, making her miserable afterlife a lot more bearable.

dont get me wrong! i adore honeyspring and hold her very dear to my heart (is it weird to say shes a bit of a comfort character to me at this point...?) but they're in a very heartbreaking, complex, and unstable state of being right now and who knows how in control of her emotions, actions, and thought processes she is.

cats make mistakes (obviously 💀) and dont always think abt/realize the big picture or the consequences of their actions all the time. and honestly, it's understandable for honeyspring to be acting "selfish" abt sweetkit; honeyspring did nothing wrong in life (as far as i know) and had all of what was meant to be a love-filled, family-oriented future stripped away from them in a gruesome and downright horrific way caused by such a simple mistake no less. why cant they have this one semblance of control over their existence now that their future is gone.

it wouldnt be the first time a cat gave their clanmate mourningsbane after all.

(sorry if a lot of this doesn't make sense or is confusing! i have a lot of trouble putting my thoughts into words...)

-warriorwhiskers (warrior cat sideblog)

Oh, this is a VERY interesting theory! I like the way your brain works! <3

I cannot say for sure how accurate this theory is due to potential spoilers, BUT I think you have a very valid read on Honeyspring's personality!

If it helps, know that Honeyspring has always been resourceful! LutumClan has no official nursery? That's fine, Honeyspring will make one! Does the clan need more prey for the fresh-kill pile? Worry not, Honeyspring's on the case!

Can't enter paradise? That's okay, Honeyspring will make her own.

[flow33didontsmoke]

hi! i'm not sure if ur taking fic request atm, but if ever u r, can i ask for a fic where f!reader also works for the bau, she is hotch's daughter, and she is dating spencer reid? 🥹 thank uuuuu

hi there ! i’d write it with pleasure, tysm for your request. :) (reminder: english is not my first language so I might be wrong/get lost in naming stuff lmao. it’s also my first fic since quarantine.💀🙏)

“That’s kinda weird”; Three times getting noticed by Hotch + one where he gets confronted.

pairing: Spencer Reid x Hotchner!f!Reader (playlist)

summary: see request

warnings/type: angst, fluff, mention of a sex life, mention children kidnapping, no mention of Y/n, can be read as gn reader, SFW, not proofread (my bad i’m season 2 and being fed with fanfictions), fear of changing and going forward, reader and Hotch are kinda distant

word count: 1.81k

taglist and asks open.

1. Facial communication

10:07am, Behavioral Analysis Unit, bullpen.

You were sat at your desk, not really far from Spencer, looking up at him from time to time. It’s not as if your relationship was that new but it was still blossoming. However you weren’t over those looks you could give the other, the tiny smile on the corner of your lips when you catch the other’s eyes, mostly when you can't help thinking about last night. Skin against skin, warmth against warmth, and that relaxed feeling when waking up in the morning after those activities. To be honest, it may never fade. Your co-workers would find it cute if they noticed or just laugh at it at first if they catch you at the beginning, but they would stop with time.

It’s been over two months you’re dating, and a year of knowing each other, when you joined the BAU. Somehow, even by being the unit chief's daughter you’ve never got the chance to meet him before, as you were always out or the nose in your studies. Surprising right ? But to your father’s dismay, he would have preferred that it wouldn’t happen. That you would have continued to do your own stuff, become a pianist, instead of deciding to follow the same dangerous path as him AND decide to get in a relationship with one of your co-workers. As if you couldn’t get more involved with them, with a dangerous life that could, will definitely change you. But you were young, stubborn and now in love.

As you looked up at Spencer just to get a brief look at something else than down at your papers, somebody scrap his throat making you look to the side where the sound came from. You locked eyes with your father as he was walking to his office, eyebrows slightly furrowed in your direction. You feel your cheeks heat up and look back down at your work, as if nothing happened. This may be nothing but it was enough to feel embarrassed about, facial communication being important between the two Hotchners. You haven't told him but he is not dumb, it was that protective father scold, the "don't even come next to my daughter" type. Spencer seemed to have noticed that small interaction as he became a bit clumsy with his papers, which made you grin.

2. Longing touches

5:18pm, Kansas City, Kansas.

Here it is, the final moment. The UnSub was finally caught, Albert Schumacher an ex-teacher who couldn't bear the thought of being separated from his beloved job. If he couldn't take care of children, why not making his own kindergarten ?

Because of the sweet month of November, it was already dark at that time, and cold, but not enough to be blinded by the night. The unsub in the car, Spencer was once again to your side, his hand on the small of your back as usual. The case was heavy, but it was finally over. You let out a breath as he was just resting his hand here, stroking his thumb a bit as an attempt to provide you a bit of comfort. Honestly, if he could hold you closer, he would. Even in front of everyone, gluing at your side.

An hour and half later, you decided to take a walk to clear your mind. To warm your heart through Kansas' cold, Spencer decided to keep you company. Through the walk he resisted the urge to take your hand in his, wrap an arm around your waist, hold you, hug you, warming you with his body warmth to keep you from shaking and feeling yours as well. He hated when other people touched him but he never got enough of yours. He kept wanting more even more because of the situation with your father who still didn't know about the two of you.

3. Keeping compagny

9:10pm, FBI private jet, Kansas City, Kansas -> Quantico, Virginia.

It was late, the winter night and cold were almost overwhelming, the case was over, a case involving children disappearing. The flight from Kansas City to Quantico may have been a two hours flight, but everyone was tired from all the efforts given in the last few days, few hours of sleep in the agents' system and the possible small jet lag that might hit the next day, the cold hitting their bones.

When you sat in the jet, you sat as a reflex not next to your father but next to Spencer, seeking comfort to him just like most of your nights after work for the last few months. He didn't realize either that he took the seat where your father was about to sit on, as he just sat to your side, closer than if he was sitting next to anyone else. Your father walked, prepared to sit next to you but stopped when he saw Spencer almost glued to your side in a blink. Instead, he sat in the seat in front of him, keeping a visual on the both of you. It's been a while since he has been observing you, your bond. He knew something was happening, not just because he was your father but also because he knew there was something happening, something above co-working, above friendship.

You were doing your best not to show it even when going back together from a case but right now you just didn't really care hiding this. You were both too exhausted to continue on this, maybe it was the irrationality of tiredness talking but anyway. Everyone knew there was something between the two of you, he would have known a way or another. Fuck the way you planned again and again to tell him, you just want to lean into the other and sleep until the end of the flight.

Everyone took a small nap during the flight except Hotch who was keeping himself busy, thinking back about the details of your position, the way you leaned to the other in your sleep. He thought back about the glances you throw to the other, the touches and the more he thought about it, the more he was upset.

Two hours later, you woke up as long as the other as the plane had landed. You give Spencer a small shake to his shoulder to wake him up. At the same time, you saw your father getting up and giving you a quick look that told a lot. He seemed tense at you but you shake that thought off as Spencer woke up, looking at you. Oh, how you couldn't wait to go back to his apartment and just lie in the bed next to other and have rest.

You both get off the plane and see your father outside. Usually, he would wait for you to at least wish you a good night/evening or something of that kind, but this time no. He didn't go right away but when you got off the plane he was just starting to walk away.

"Good night..?" you said to catch his attention.

It visibly worked as he stopped walking. He looked at you with tired eyes but still with distance in his look.

"Good night..." he answered with a small hesitation. He seemed to want to add something so you just let him talk, even if it was a bit tensed. "Do you need a ride home ?" he added as he proposed you usually, but already knowing the answer this time. Not that he never did but this time he was just sure. He never liked the co-driving with Spencer. You had your driver license and you could afford for a car, why relying on your co-worker even if you lived not so far from the other ? He didn't need to make express his discontent to make himself understood this time. He wasn't waiting for an answer.

"No thanks.. Spencer is driving me back home tonight." you answered, it was a bit awkward but you tried to get past that.

+ Confrontation

He nodded and scoffed a bit. "Yeah, of course."

You felt a tinge of guilt at this, something was wrong. You may know why he reacts like this and you don't think to have the mind at this at the moment, and you don't think he has either. "What do you mean ?" you asked, oblivious.

He faced you, looking at you in the eyes. He was silent at first but finally answered. "You know what I mean." There was a hint of venom in his voice. He kept his voice low enough for you and Spencer to hear. Spencer who was just in the back, tired and uncomfortable. This was clearly not how he wanted to get things clear about your relationship and neither do you.

"Then tell me. Tell me what you mean, what's wrong." You replied, looking at him in the eyes. You knew it would hurt but the conversation had to be done, and if he was going that way then his suspicions would be confirmed that way.

"What's wrong is this," he said, referencing to Spencer and you, giving him a look. "Do you have any idea of how unconscious it is ? Dating your co-worker, really ? And without even preventing anyone, you could get more than suspended, did you even think about your lives ?" he added in his boss tone. Yes, he wasn't just your dad but also your chief, but to be honest, you weren't expecting your unit chief talking to you.

All you did was nod once, looking slightly down before raising your eyes to him again and as you were about to answer, throat tight, but he speaks again.

"I'm not finished. What if one of you gets in danger trying to avoid an something to the other ?" He added, his voice was hiding of emotion by his attitude. You catch a glance of Rossi in the back who was about to call for your dad to calm down a bit, to let his role of chief down to let the father speak. He knew that he just wasn't ready for you to grow up as your relationship looked serious and not just a story without tomorrow. He was still getting used to having you around at the BAU, his daughter, what's left of his family alongside Jack.

You said nothing, letting him cool down. The atmosphere wasn't as tensed but more awkward. "And- and he's too for you. Why didn't you choose someone your age ?" he added after a small blank. You knew it was just an excuse, your gap with Spencer wasn't even too big, around five years. You knew it was an excuse not to say "why didn't you choose someone who's not from the FBI ?", questioning your career choices.

A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't know how to end this so here it is. Might do this series though ? I would like that. I want to make a happy ending but I just can't align more words. I don't think anyone would be interested btw but let me know. Perhaps it made me think about the first chapters of that series "Spencer x Prentiss!Reader" if you read it but I can't explain why lmao. It was so weird how I wrote this: I started by 1 then continued with 3 and the bonus then ended with 2 so I'm sorry if it was short lol

[shallyouobeyme]

Fortune

Platonic Yander Malfoy!Family x Dragon!reader (GN)

Summary: A long time ago there lived a species of dragon-hybrids with magical gifts. You - one of these hybrids - had the gift of bringing good fortune to whoever was close to you, but as you'd soon learn, using your gift to help others would only endanger you...

! Minors do not interact !

TW: Not Canon Complainant about the Malfoy's backstory, imprisonment, manipulation, kidnapping, infantilisation (kinda), I do not condone this - this is all fiction

One or two Centuries ago, when muggles still believed in magic and fantastical creatures roamed the earth almost freely, many more kinds of species lived in nature. Some of them were closely related to creatures still on this planet in the present. One example of such a case was a kind of dragon that had long since left the face of the earth, one that shared many similarities with the humans around it. In fact, these dragons had the ability to shift from their full dragon form to that of a bipedal, humanoid dragon-person hybrid. Further than their ability to shift though was their ability to innately use magic.

Now, their abilities were not like the abilities of wizards and witches who could put their magic into words and gestures, using their magic as a medium to achieve many different goals. Instead, they tended to be born with a specific magical talent that differed from case to case - some could control different elements (since these dragons did not naturally have the ability to breathe fire or water), some could communicate with nature, some changed the weather, and others could use their scales to make themselves invisible to any living and dead being.

One of these dragons, still a young fetchling when this story began had a rare and sought-after ability - the ability to attract fortune. Something every dragon with a knack for hoarding (so almost all) would kill for, which was why the little dragon-hybrid was told from a very young age to keep hidden from creatures that would use them and their powers for their own gain. This young dragon was you - and often, when you now fell asleep, you still dreamt of the night that would turn out to be the one to doom your entire life.

You had barely just started to fly without your parent's supervision and after being kept at home for your entire (short) life in hopes that no one would try to use you, your curiosity for real life and everything beyond the mountain you called home grew restless. So you did what any curious child with the ability to fly would do and you took off to where you knew the nearest village to be. You landed a few miles away from it, well aware that your parents would be furious beyond belief if you went into town and let your existence be known to humans. After all, your parents always did make a point of mentioning just how greedy and selfish humans tended to be.

You were a fool to not believe them. You were in your humanoid form - comparable with a human child of about eight or nine years - as you stepped into a clearing. The sound of sobbing echoed through the trees around you and your eyes fell onto a form hunched onto the floor in sobs. They looked similar to you, but a lot smoother, and without any horns or wings protruding out of their back. Honestly, they looked really strange, but your parents had described something similar to what you were seeing and they had said that these smooth wingless things were humans. Obviously, you were intrigued.

"Why are you crying?" you asked in your young, squeaky voice and the human jumped up, turning to look at you in shock. Their eyes widened even further at your appearance, but they seemed too shaken to properly realize what was going on.

"You-You're a - You're a dragon?" they finally stuttered out, their tears long forgotten. You couldn't help but giggle, of course, you were a dragon, what else were you supposed to be?

"Yes I am, and you're a human, right?" you asked and they only responded by nodding, "then why were you crying, human?"

"I-" They seemed to question their reality for a second, probably wondering if they should tell a random little dragon-hybrid their sorrows, but they responded nonetheless, "My mother... She's very ill and I don't have the money to buy the medicine she needs, I fear that she'll pass away soon and then I will be all alone in the world."

As their tears build up again, you feel yourself sympathize with the human. Sure, you had your parents, but they were travelling all of the time, leaving you to your own devices and even your siblings had been allowed to leave the nest and make a way of their own, it was just you who was kept alone in the cave under the pretence of protection. So you very well knew how it felt to be alone, to be lonely. And so you knew that if you could do something against someone else feeling like that, then you would.

"I can help you!" you exclaimed excitedly at the thought of doing something good.

"What? How?" the human - you decided that if humans were at all similar to your own kin then they must have been a man - asked, completely perplexed as you walked towards him, stopping just a step away.

"It's my gift, I can bring fortune to people, I can help you make the money you need for the medicine," you were smiling brightly now, but the human still seemed confused. 'How,' he just asked and you told him to kneel down. Usually, your presence alone was enough to attract riches and riches beyond most people's dreams, but you knew that if you wanted to help someone attract fortune without being near them, you had to use a different tactic. And so, once the man had knelt down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and a shimmer of silver light sparkled over his face - the same silver of your scales.

After that you left for home, but before you could take off the human called out to you: "What's your name? Will I see you again?"

"I'm Y/N - and I don't know, I hope so," you responded as you took flight and the last thing they shouted to you before the distance was too large to hear them was that their name was Layton Malfoy.

After that, you used every chance you had to fly to that clearing where Layton was usually already waiting for you - he'd tell you all these amazing stories of his life and he'd entertain you, trying to be your best friend. At least you thought that was all he wanted. What you didn't realize was that slowly but surely he was trying to keep you by his side longer and longer, always finding another reason as to why you should stay, telling you how your parents were using you, about how they weren't these amazing dragons that you thought them to be. And maybe because you were just a lonely child who was just desperate for the attention or maybe because Layton was your first friend and you didn't believe friends would lie to each other, you believed him. And so after he kept telling you all these things about how he was the one who would actually protect you, about how he'd finally let you live a normal life, you left the clearing with him towards his home town - thinking about how you'd return home one day and tell your parents about how wrong they were about humans and about all the great things you lived through.

You never returned home though, in fact, you never saw your parents again. Decades later - you were now comparable to a human teenager - Layton's grandchildren had told you that the dragon-hybrids had been declared extinct after they had been hunted for their powers and their horns. The Malfoy heir told you that he was so happy that his grandfather had 'taken you in' and how the entire family just felt thankful that you hadn't been hunted as well. He elected to ignore the fact that you were shackled to a wall in a secret Cellar below their large estate - possible only because they had you locked away to attract them money,.

After finding out about the cruel fate of your kin, you shifted into your dragon form attempting to not give the Malfoy any sense of result by responding to them or even just paying attention to them. You rolled into yourself, closed your eyes and stopped things but eat, drink and sleep. No matter how often the ever-evolving generations of Malfoys tried to get you to interact with them, you just stayed silent. Honestly, you were surprised that after decades of silence, they still tried to talk to you - wasn't your presence in their cellar enough? You were still attracting fortune for them, what more did they want? Over the years they tried to get you out of your shell by decorating your cellar with numerous pillows and blankets and things that dragons loved in their hord. Your Chamber probably had more money, jewels and riches in it than their bank account. And yet, as much as you secretly appreciated your new horde, you stayed silent.

At least until a new Malfoy was born and old enough to come down to you on his own. Lucius was just a child when he saw you for the first time lying curled into yourself in your pile of riches and pillows and blankets, but even he could see the sadness in your form. And so he tried to talk to you, but like his parents and grandparents had told him, the dragon in their cellar did not talk. But he didn't stop, he told you about how he thought the family had enough money already, about how he thought they should let you free and how you'd be able to breathe fresh air again once he became the patriarch of the family. Maybe it was the earnestness in his voice or the fact that he reminded you of yourself when you were a hatchling, still trusting in the world around you, but you caved and you shifted for the first time in what must have been over 100 years.

It was safe to say Lucius was ecstatic and the two of you soon became close. You talked to him and him only, and he enjoyed it immensely. He tried to spend as much time as possible down with you and was so close to you that you actually let him nap with you in your horde (he always got to lie on the parts with lots of pillows and blankets, because you knew humans were a lot more sensitive than you). And as he grew older you tried to remind him of his promise and at first he agreed, but the older he grew the more unsure he seemed. Still, he agreed - probably knowing that you'd stop your friendship with him once you realized that he didn't intend to keep his promise anymore.

It was only once he came down, dressed all in black, now an adult with his own child, telling you that his father Abraxas had passed because of a case of Dragon Pox - a cruel wink of fate as you couldn't help but think - that you excitedly ran towards the bars of your cage, believing that you'd finally be let out of this horrible prison. Only that Lucius didn't open the door. 'Why?' you asked him, silver streaks of tears streaming down your cheeks, 'Don't you have enough Fortune? Is the money really worth it?'.

"It was never about the money, at least not for me if it was just that I would let you go in a heartbeat, but I know that the second I let you out you'll be gone. You'll leave me behind, here without you, and I don't think I can do that Y/N. I need to know that you're here, safe, where I always know you're well cared for. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me - even if I'm not there to experience it."

That was the day you realized that Lucius and Narcissa - and after his son Draco as well - would never let you go. They did try to make your living 'situation' more comfortable, changing out the bars to your cave with an actual door after putting enough spells on you to keep you from ever leaving the premises of their mansion, keeping you from kind of violence against them and keeping alerting them should you ever be in any kind of distress or danger. Soon they had integrated you into their everyday life, treating you like a child to be protected and not like you've had lived longer than they could ever imagine. Even Draco - who grew up with you as a constant in his life - developed the same sense of protectiveness that his parents had, as if he wasn't a literal child, and when it was time for him to leave for Hogwarts he insisted you writing him at least once a week, because otherwise he was sure he'd go insane with worry (at least that was what he said).

And so, while for a few decades, you had actually thought freedom was close, you soon realized that you had just switched one prison against a slightly more glamorous one - and it seemed that as long as there were Malfoys, you'd never be able to escape it.

A/N: This is based on another great idea by @sol565 so I wanna give them a big thanks and a big shoutout ❤️❤️❤️

[queers-gambit]

Fine Line

prompt: ( requested ) going after the same silver briefcase, you and Tangerine exchange more than a few blows. pun intended.

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 5.2k+

note: got a little outside my comfort zone with this one, so, hopefully it's not 1000% trash but you've been warned now.

warnings: codename "Peach", basically the request with a FEW tweaks here and there, so, some spoilers, cursing, (shitty) slutty smut [spitting, squirting, mean!Tan, PIV, male receiving oral, degrading behavior, talk of tops and bottoms], Tan is a switch i do not care, is this enemies to lovers? yes. depiction of canon-typical physical violence, blood, injury.

There was a fine line between love and hate.

You love your family, but God Almighty, did you hate their behavior in most public settings. You love homemade cake, but hate the entire baking process, especially the dishes. You love getting your nails done and feeling pampered, but hate sitting still in one place for that amount of time.

And you love getting fucked, but hate dealing with people.

The whole meeting someone, getting to know them, getting to a place of comfort to bring them home. It was a hassle, it was annoying to you; akin to an inconvenience and disruption. You didn't mind Tinder, actually - thinking of it as "Dick on Demand", never really needing the awkward stages of acquaintanceship. You didn't like going out places "to meet people", too busy with your work to truly put forth effort. Plus, your job didn't exactly allow for romantic entanglements to become knots; you had to keep loose and available.

This is what made your job ideal: it was remote, kept you busy, on the move, without the weight of baggage attached to people. Plus, it didn't give time nor room for anyone to become attached to you - something that always made you impossibly uncomfortable. A job such as this made life impossibly lonely, but you operated better this way - without anyone needing you, worrying about you, keeping tabs, being in your business. You liked being on your own, it was just easier. It made sense. There was logic behind it.

Didn't mean you were 100% alone, however. You had "coworkers"... Sorta. You had employers, though you were unsure where exactly they were stationed. You, yourself, resided mostly in London, but operated globally, wherever you were needed - or more like wherever you were sent to. These "coworkers" of yours had similar jobs, and while you hated putting a label on basically anything, in laymen's terms, you were a contract killer. Those you interacted with, typically, were other contract killers - but usually working different jobs.

Rarely were multiples from the same organization sent on the same job, yet it still happened.

On the off chance, you encountered a few individuals that were employed by other organizations; making them rivals instead of coworkers.

You were unsure which this all was yet...

You had been contracted by an invisible, anonymous employer to retrieve a silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle, your handler encouraging you to get off the bullet train the moment it was in your possession. But there was a problem: you weren't the only one working this case, if the Ladybug twat and Twins was any indication.

When you located the case, you were instantly engaged by the blonde man with thick, black framed glasses; honestly getting the shit kicked out of you.

Currently, you were in possession of the case, but that was sure to change since it had already switched hands multiple times that chaotic night. You had come to a skidding halt, panting heavily, bent over on your knees in a vacant first class train car after escaping (momentarily) from Ladybug. Spitting blood from your mouth, you dialed your handler with shaking fingers; heaving a deep sniffle.

"You still alive?"

"I'll fuckin' choke you myself, Susan, I swear t'God," you groaned, sliding to the ground in exhaustion; wiping the trail of blood from your nose with a grimace.

Susan chuckled, "What's happening, honey girl?"

"Y-You didn't tell me I wasn't the only one workin' this!"

"Well, I heard rumor the Twins might be on the same case, but you usually beat them to the punch, don't you?"

"Yeah, but not this time," you winced.

"I'm sure Tangerine was happy to see you," you could hear her grin.

"Fuck off."

"He's into you, you know."

"The man snapped my tibia, punctured my kidney, and broke my nose - don't think that constitutes as anything romantic."

"Oh, you're into it," she laughed. "And don't act as if he ever walked away, scot free. If I remember correctly, you've shanked him twice?"

"He deserved it," you coughed. "Listen, fuck Tangerine - "

"I know you want to."

"Susan! Fuckin' listen to me!" You snarled. "They're not alone - there's another guy. For fuck's sake, Susan, I just got my arse kicked by a dude with a manbun!"

"Another guy? With a manbun? They're still in style?"

"Oh, my God - does it even mat - YES, they're always in style. Listen, this guy goes by the name Ladybug. Who do we know that uses codenames like that? What org?"

"Hmm," Susan thought aloud.

"What?" You spat blood from your mouth again, licking at the split lip.

"Could be KBS? They use animal codenames on rotation."

"Fuck all," you groaned. "Well, Mr. Ladybug can throw a fuckin' punch. Think he cracked a rib. But you know what? He's handsome. Almost feel bad for knockin' his lights out."

"Where are you?"

You looked around, "Emotionally? Physically?"

"You know what I mean, Peach. Where's the case?"

"With me," you assured, "uh, and I, uh... I'm not 100% where I am, I missed a couple stops fightin' these dumbfucks. Might be four stops from Kyoto? Five?"

"Get off before the end of the line," Susan warned. "At this point, I don't care if you have the case or not."

"Wait... Susan, what's that mean?"

She paused and sighed deeply, "All right, fine, time to get serious. Some intel came in, Peach... And the White Death bought out the train until the end of the line. I actually care about your safety and this just screams danger, so, get off before Kyoto, Peach, my girl. Hear me?"

"I hear you, mamas," you agreed. "I'll get off next... Stop... Oh, you've got t'be joking! Fuck me!"

"Gladly," Tangerine smirked and jokingly reached for his belt with perked brows, standing in the automatic doorway; looking beat to hell, similar to you.

You glared at him and offered your middle finger, his hands dropping as he surveyed the train car.

"Peach?"

"I'll call you back, Susan," you deflected into the phone, quickly hanging up and deflating. "Jesus fuck, look, I'm really not in the mood, Tan. Can we just make this quick? The fuck you want?"

"Do I look like I'm here t'play fuckin' games, Peach?" Tangerine asked, stalking slowly towards where you were slumped in the aisle, mid-train car, while dripping in his own blood.

"Still look like a clown t'me," you quipped. "I'll ask again: the fuck you want, Tangerine?"

"Gonna need that case, sweet peach."

You scoffed. "Seriously? You're after it, too?"

"'Fraid so."

"How many of us are on assignment? For this one fuckin' case?" You snipped, kicking the case a little.

"You look like you've seen the Ladybug fucker, haven't yah, doll?"

"He with you?"

"Fuck no."

"Where's Lemon, then?"

"Few back," He gestured back over his shoulder, pausing when you got to your feet. "C'mon, love, don't do this," He warned, mustache curling as his lip did. There was a deranged look in his eye, something stirring in your gut; seeing the shine of tears never shed, the anger, a high-strung energy filling the space around you.

"I just want off this train, Tan," you begged quietly. "Look, call it whatever you want, but something else is goin' on here - shit ain't right. Be honest, how much more difficult has tonight been? Why have we all been sent after the same briefcase? When it's supposed to just be a fucking grab job?"

Tangerine cocked his head, "Nah, no, we're on delivery."

"What?"

"Yeah, supposed t'deliver this kid and the case t'his father in Kyoto," his brows knit together.

You scolded, "You dumb fuckin' idiot!"

"I beg your pardon, sweetheart?" He leered, stepping another step closer; knotting your stomach.

"You workin' for the White Death?"

"How'd you - "

"Susan got intel, said he bought out the train, Tan. Fuck's really goin' on?"

Tangerine's jaw flexed, sighing through his nose, "Guess cat's out the bag now, innit? Yeah," he sighed, shrugging a bit, "we're doin' this job for him."

"Which means he's gonna kill us at the end of the line - why else ensure there's no other witnesses?" There was a long pause, both staring into each other's eyes without shifting attention. You shrugged and whispered, "You know, we could just jump off the bloody train. Grab Lem, get off the train before Kyoto, just fuckin' go."

"Who gets the case?"

"Where's the kid you've gotta deliver?"

"Dead - murdered, actually."

"Then you're already fucked and your job's done," you shrugged, "so, I keep the case and we all three keep our lives."

Tan sighed through his nose, offering, "You drive a temptin' bargain, love. Always enjoy our li'l run-ins," his hand extended to rest on your waist, freezing time. "But I can't walk away without that case. Lemon's down, he's been drugged, so, trust me, I'm all for just jumpin' ship, but I need the case, darlin'."

"So do I, I have somewhere else to deliver it."

"Then we have ourselves a Mexican Standoff, then, yeah?"

"No, that'd require a third."

"Kinky, but I prefer t'keep things between us, wouldn't you?" He purred against your lips, not quite kissing you as his hand tightened over bruised skin.

"Tan, don't do this," you breathed in the space between you.

"For whatever it's worth, I do usually feel bad after kickin' your arse - though, I'd much rather prefer t'kiss it."

"We can arrange that later," you smiled prettily, surging forward to kiss him fully. It was sweaty, cruel, bloody, and rough - everything you knew Tangerine to be. Yet right when he seemed entranced enough, both his hands caging your hips to his, you bit his lip in time to bring your knee up into his groin.

It sparked your fight, both exchanging blows without hesitation. You could feel your adrenaline propelling you, but it was quickly dwindling as Tangerine seemed renewed and invigorated by your fight. You, however, fought dirty; you had to - you had no other choice. He was physically bigger, stronger, but you were faster, and dare you say it, smarter. You didn't need integrity when defending yourself, easily using Tan's strength against him to add to the collect of bruises, cuts, and blood smears. But he still managed to manhandle you, sending you careening into empty seats and giving you whiplash.

You managed to swing on his back, preventing him from reaching his gun; legs coiling around his arms and flexing your abs to yank backwards. You grunted when you hit an empty bench, his head bouncing between your breasts; holding him hostage for a brief moment before you felt his hands grip your thighs in an innocently provocative way.

The moan from your lungs was unintentional, Tan flipping you both so you were on your stomach; him hovering over your back with a grunt. But there was a familiar feeling pressed into your bottom, head lifting slightly to struggle under Tangerine's grip; his reaction being exactly what you wanted as he pressed further into you.

"Just - fucking stay still!" He barked, trying to pin your hands behind you.

"Oh, you'd like that, huh?" You snapped, still struggling. "Some submissive li'l bitch?"

"Oh, darlin', I love me a top," he growled in your ear, grinding his swelling cock further into your ample arse cheeks, "but only good girls are so lucky. But don't worry," he chuckled, "I usually have cuffs on me for the bad girls, hey?"

"Fuck off, Tan, get off," you grunted, wriggling; grinding your hips up into him to try and dislodge him. He breathed deeper, and your mind played tricks on you because you swore you felt him grind back.

"I quite like this position, though, love."

"Thought you liked a top?"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my own moments, huh? And you seem like you're far too used t'gettin' your way."

"So, which is it, then? You wanna fuck me or get fucked by me?"

"That an earnest question?"

You paused, "If it means I get the case, fuck yeah."

"That's not what it means, doll, but if what Susan says is true..." He nuzzled your neck briefly, lips ghosting your ear, mustache tickling your skin as he finished, "Might not get another chance."

You know he loosened his grip to let your arms snap back under you; groaning in relief. After panting for a moment, you lifted your head again, feeling his cheek brush yours and pausing to relish in the oddly intimate position. "We can always get the fuck off this train? Find a hotel in a nearby city?" You offered. "Can get me all night if you play your cards right."

"Know I can't, sweet peach," he whispered.

"Then why waste more time?" You mused, hissing when his mouth instantly fell to your neck in an open kiss that scraped his teeth into your soft flesh. "Hey - no! No ti-ime," your word hitched when he licked the sensitive skin in-sync with a roll of his hips, thrusting his hardening cock into the crease of your cheeks; making your spine shudder when his teeth scraped again.

"We got a li'l time," he promised. "Enough for a taste? You as sweet as your name, baby? Huh?"

"Tan, oh, my God," you breathed in disbelief when he reared back and manhandled you so he could unlatch the buckle of your belt and start shucking the material from your hips. "What if someone - "

"Shut up," he snapped, freeing your thighs. "Got me too fuckin' worked up t'worry 'bout someone walkin' in, yeah? Both know what's waitin' for us, don't we?"

"The White Death," you felt him yank your pants to your ankles and then shove your shoes off, pants following to the floor. "Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he roughly fingered your slit over your newly exposed panties, hearing his belt buckle jingle.

"Oi, no - "

"Fuck off," you snapped when you turned over suddenly, forcing him to pull back and glare, "I wanna watch - might as well give me a show, right? Since you're 'bouta get us all killed?"

He scoffed, "You're gettin' off the train, darlin', you're not meetin' the White Death tonight."

"Damn straight," you hooked your panties with your thumbs, lifting your hips, yanking the garment down as Tangerine continued to unlatch his belt, peel down his zipper, then pull both his boxers and trousers down in one motion.

"This isn't gonna be soft and sweet, love," he warned, standing over you on the train seat; pumping his cock to full mast while never lifting his eyes from you. "I've wanted you longer than I'll ever admit, I've got some ideas."

Your eyes rolled and fingers skated down your dampening cunt, "You're on a time schedule, maybe shut the fuck up and just fuck me already?"

He scoffed, lowering himself over you and making you gulp in anticipation; hands gravitating to his blackened waist. "You sure got a fuckin' mouth on you, don't'cha? That's all right, doll, I got somethin' for yah." His hand rose to pop a few buttons on your blouse, exposing your bra, asking, "You got a safe word?"

"Tangerine."

"Hmm? What?"

"No, that's my safe word."

"You fuckin' shithead," he hissed over your mouth, lips parting in a silent gasp when his hot cock dropped over your cunt in a tantalizing tease. "Be serious for once, yeah?"

You shrugged, "How's about 'pineapple', or is that one of your buddies names?"

"Pineapple it is," he grumbled, descending to your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and made your nails curl into his flesh. But a whimper emitted when he pulled back suddenly, standing over you, and moving towards your head. "Open," he demanded, holding his cockhead at your lips. "Don't give me shit about time, you need t'learn. Open your mouth."

You obediently opened your lips and Tan wasted no time in thrusting himself into your mouth; not too deep, not too rough, but enough to make you inhale sharply and readjust your position. Your one hand pumped what couldn't fit in your mouth, the other holding his thigh for balance; choking from the awkward position, but it made Tan smirk.

"That's it, see? Not so hard," he mocked. "Just gotta keep your mouth busy." You whimpered, cradling his balls; giving a playful squeeze that made him moan lightly. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he reached for your cheek and jaw, gently moving his hips - making you pause yourself to let him move. "Oh, fuck, that's - fuck," he seethed, "just let me do whatever I want t'you, won't you? Take a li'l more, good, good, just breathe," he guided, mouth opening in shock when he watched more of himself disappear in your mouth. "Oh, Jesus - you're such a dirty fuckin' girl, look at yah - so eager, willing," he nearly choked when he hit the back of your throat. "Shit - baby, don't," he paused to grunt, hunching over slightly and holding himself up on the back cushion of the train's seating. "Don't hurt yourself," he whimpered, your jaw opening just a fraction more, throat constricting when his cockhead slid against your uvula.

"Oh, my God," he praised, testing the waters and trying to thrust - but your gagging and choking made him pull back. "Okay, okay, too much, sorry, love. Oh, shit," he gasped when you didn't let him pull out all the way, still sucking him as if you were getting paid for it. "Yeah? 'S like that? Oh, you Godsend angel. Gonna be good fa' me? Huh? Keep quiet?" He asked gruffly, making you swallow around him; earning a hiss. "You're fuckin' dangerous, aren't you?" He scoffed, "Too bad I won't get t'take my time, innit? Fuck."

You hummed as he retracted his hips fully. His eyes caught yours as he spread your saliva around his swollen member, hearing you mumble, "Can still get off with me."

He sighed, "Isn't that easy, doll," as he lowered himself back onto the bench over you. "There's more at stake - "

"I know," you nodded, guiding his forehead to yours as you pet his cheeks; the cut he earned smearing against your skin. "Just an offer, ain't it? Just thought if yah did come, could actually have yah in my mouth - like I want." You both paused, you telling him in a whisper, "Can choke me with your cock - hmm?"

He groaned, nuzzling your nose once before kissing you swiftly, deeply. His tongue swept against yours, tasting himself briefly; rubbing his warm cock into your inner thigh as he swallowed your moans of budding pleasure. So caught up in the way he made you feel, you squeaked when his hand suddenly rose and clasped around your throat, eyes popping open as your own hands dropped to his waist in shock.

"Choke me with your dick, Tan," you reminded.

"This works, though, still shuts you up."

"You're so fuckin' bold for this," you accused, gasping when his hand tightened.

"Then maybe shut the fuck up, girl, Goddamn," he seethed, biting your bottom lip, reopening the split, tightening his hand another degree. "You're gonna be a good fuckin' girl, aren't you? Huh? Think you can manage that? Know you got a problem with authority, doll, but you're gonna do as you're told, aren't yah?"

You glared but didn't answer.

"Yeah, that's real good," he mused when you had no words. "Now open your fuckin' mouth again."

When you did, he dribbled a line of spit onto your tongue, squeezing his hand around your throat and jaw when he wanted you to swallow. His smirk was something sinister and devious, peaking down to then paw your blouse the rest of the way open and tug your bra down until your breasts were exposed.

"Fuckin' knew you had great tits," he grit while gripping, twisting, tweaking your breast meat and nipple; not letting go of your throat to ensure your silence. "Not good for much else, huh? Are you?" He sneered, "Only sent on a grab job, weren't you? But look at you now, so fuckin' ready for me, so needy, excited, all distracted, desperate for my cock - aren't you? Answer me right fuckin' now," he growled.

"Yes," you croaked, gyrating your hips up into his; feeling his bare cock drag over your cunt and salivating.

"Good," he spoke to himself, shoving your hips back down as one hand rose to hold his cheek to keep yourself grounded. He chuckled to himself, "Just pathetic, innit? The way you crave me? Dumb fuckin' girl, can't even focus on a simple mission, can she? Huh? Can you?"

"No," you whimpered, "need more. Please, please."

"Shut up, I got you," he rolled his eyes, "but you don't really deserve it, do you?"

"I do, I swear - "

"Told you to shut the fuck up, though, yeah? Can't even do a simple task, got your head all stupid, do I? 'S good t'know, if we survive this."

You glared, seeing his grin widen before he was descending onto you again. You licked through the seam of his lips, being granted access; exploring the other's mouth in feverish motions that made your head spin and cunt contract. He still toyed with your tit, then abandoning the ministration to scale down your bodies to where you needed him most while your hand slid into his hair to grip his bloody scalp. You were so close to begging, yet you'd never give a man the satisfaction... Yet if Tangerine requested you to beg, beg you shall.

"That's my girl," he praised when he pet swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick in a single motion to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, look at yah," he laughed over your mouth, "already so fuckin' dumb and I ain't even touch yah yet."

You whined a little, his hand readjusting his grip.

"Oh, fuckin' fine, you greedy bitch," he rolled his eyes, sinking a single digit into your heat; earning a high-pitched moan of relief. Tangerine laughed again, "Yeah? So desperate that just me fuckin' finger gets you like that?"

You tapped his wrist when he held a little too tight, him instantly loosening his grip around your throat. He rewarded you with a few pumps of his finger before adding a second, grinning when you had enough airflow to moan loud and clear.

"You make such pretty noises," he praised, "stupid, but pretty noises. Lemme hear you - that's all I wanna hear, not your fuckin' words, princess. Huh? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, ready to cry from the anticipation he built in your body. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you let yourself clench around his digits, moaning when he massaged that spongy good spot of your inner walls.

"Wait - Tan - wait, wait," you begged and released his waist to reach for his wrist while he grinned.

"Aht," he let go of your neck to lay across your hips to keep hold, "stay there, be a good girl. Lemme see you - c'mon, love, get there for me," he pumped harder, faster, a small sweat coating your skin. The sounds were obscure and messy, sloppy and frantic, wet and pornographic; his breathing deep and huffy while yours was high-pitched. "So fuckin' pretty like this, under me like this. There's a good girl, yeah, chase that feelin', 's all right, don't run from me."

"Tan-Tangerine, shit, please," you babbled, unsure of yourself. "I-I don't - I don't - oh, fuck!"

"Let it happen," he encouraged, leering over you; only briefly aware of his cock leaking precum on your thigh. "Let that feeling take you, there's a good girl, you're right there - good fuckin' girl," Tan broke his mean streak to praise you briefly, feeling the familiar flutter. "Open, hey, hey, eyes on me, princess," he waited until your half-lidded eyes met his, watching him nod, "open your mouth." You were so blissed out, you didn't think, just doing so and accepting more of his spit. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, pretty girl, fuckin' soak me, don't hold back - c'mon, wanna fuckin' feel you, need t'fuckin' feel you cum - ohh-hoo, yes, yes, yes," he chanted when you squealed, squirmed, and released a stream of squirt that splattered over you both.

But that wasn't all.

Tangerine was mesmerized, never relenting his efforts and before you had time to recover, he was forcing another wave of cum from your core. His thick body held yours in place, desperately squirming to try and get away from the overwhelming feeling; but he had you and wouldn't let go. "One more, one more, one more," Tan panted, hovering over you as his bulging bicep kept hammering into you without relent. He kissed you messily, "One more, baby, c'mon, I know you got it in you."

"I can't," you sobbed, trying to squirm away under him.

"You can, doll, you're right there, I fuckin' feel you - such a good girl, c'mon," he encouraged, offering a few messy kisses to your lips while you wantonly moaned without control. "One more, just for me, c'mon, baby, you can do it - just fa' me - there she is, yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes," he laughed when you, for a third time, came in his hand and over his crotch.

"FUCK!" You yelped when he used the messy slick of your orgasm to line himself up and plunge directly into you. "Oh, shit - just - a minute, baby, hang on - fuck," you panted, holding his hips tightly with your legs spread. Slowly, you let them fall around his own as you relaxed.

"Got you, baby, 'M right here, take yah time," he whispered, flattening his tongue up your neck as he adjusted himself between your legs.

Half a minute later, you gave him permission to move - and it was the beginning of the end. You were sensitive, tight, gripping Tangerine to a new degree he hadn't felt before; his head spinning and mind short circuiting. You were nearly constrictive, webs of your stickiness coating him as he moved stiffly for the first few thrusts. As you loosened up under him, he gained momentum; your hands directing his face back to yours as you clung desperately to his hulking form.

He kissed you like it was the last thing he'd do (and maybe it was), holding your hips so he could drill into you easier; lifting one hand to pet your throat before gripping it, like before. The other then drifted to hike your leg up his hip, the new angle making him shudder lightly. "I'm there, love," he grunted, looking concentrated and borderline in pain, "right fuckin' there - ah shit, you feel so fuckin' good."

"Yes, yes, don't stop, Tan, please," you moaned, locating your clit to apply pressure and rub in harsh little circles.

"Ah, my greedy girl," he chuckled, "three wasn't enough?"

"Wanna cum with you," you whimpered, gasping into his mouth as you were overly sensitive and careened off your cliff. Your orgasm triggered Tangerine's, who plunged completely into you and held still while his balls contracted; mouths left gaping open against the other. In complete bliss, you shared a laugh of disbelief with sweaty foreheads pressed together - both forgetting reality for a bit.

At the moment Tan opened him mouth to confess something to you, Lemon decided to stumble in through the automatic door, yelling, "Bruv! Oi! Where you at!?"

"GET OUT!" Tangerine roared, barely visible over the top of the benches.

"The fuck you doin', mate?"

You latched your legs around Tan, keeping his cock planted snuggly inside you; rocking upward to hold onto his neck and spy his brother over the back of the seating. "Hi, Lem!" You chirped.

"Peach? Oh, fuck me!" He laughed. "Or - fuck you, ammirite?"

"Give us a minute, honey, would you, please?"

"Only a minute?" He laughed again. "'Cause that's all you need, right, Tan?"

"Fuck off, Lemon," Tangerine snapped. "We got the case, we're gettin' the fuck off at the next stop - just - fuck off a minute."

Lemon shrugged, "You make the plans, mate."

"Be out inna bit, love, thank you," you smiled prettily at Lemon, who finally nodded, held his hands up in defense and backed out of the train car. "Well," you mused when Tangerine leaned back into the seat but kept a firm grip on your hips, "that was only mildly embarrassing."

"He's seen me in worse positions," Tan shrugged, blinking when he realized how that sounded, exactly. "Not like that - no, just, I mean, as my bruva, you know, he's seen - you know what?" He sighed. "Don't fuckin' matter."

"So," you smirked, grinding your hips over his public hair, "you're taking my advice? Gettin' off the train?"

"I knew you were greedy, but this naughty, too?" He groaned, slapping his hands to your hips and guiding your motions. "Just filled you, love, and you want more?"

"That an issue?" You smirked, feeling him swell in you again.

"Not a bit," he smirked.

"Answer me," you demanded. "You seriously gettin' off?"

"Why the fuck not? The kid's dead and whatever's in the case should cover however pissed off this makes the bosses, right? Though..." He trailed off when one of your hands reached around to give a gentle tug on his balls.

"Keep goin'," you whispered with a growing smirk, hips swirling.

"Though," he cleared his throat, "don't think we've ever not finished a job before."

"This is different," you promised.

He gulped harshly, encouraging your motions; stretching up to squeeze both breasts and making you falter slightly into him. "All three of us are gonna get off, yeah?" He whispered, bringing you in closer as your hips began to rise and fall with steady tempo. "Got somewhere fa us t'go?"

"I'll get it arranged," you promised swiftly, arms coiling around his neck to hold yourself in position as you increased your speed. "But we're giving my employer the case."

"Fine with me," he nodded, "just wanna stay alive at this point." You chuckled with him, raising up to keep riding him; his eyes glancing over your shoulder and stiffening. "Uh, love? H-Hang on, hang on," his arms encased you suddenly, making you stop all ministrations.

"W-What's wrong? You okay?"

"Where's the fucking case?"

Your waist twisted to snap your torso around, peering over at the empty benches you had once sat in front of. Your blood was left behind... But the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle was missing.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Six train cars up, Ladybug shuddered and told Maria, "Christ, they were at it like rabbits. And, hey, like, is it cool to be mean during sex now? 'Cause he was kinda mean, but she seemed into it, so... That's cool, I guess?"

"Some people like that," Maria eased.

"Do you?"

"You don't want that answer. Do you have the case?"

"For now," he sighed. "How much you wanna bet they haven't noticed, yet? Bet they're still goin' at it..."

"You sound jealous."

"They're both very attractive people... Hm, you know, maybe I am a little jealous."

"Of which one?"

"Not entirely sure yet."

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Bullet Train masterlist