#Which admittedly is the same problem again

[unclevertitle]

I love and hate this.

On the one hand it's a wild congruence of things, and I love those typically. The traditional elegance of a chandelier amidst the kitschy modernity of a lava lamp is a great dichotomy. Not one I'd want permanently around but I am glad it happened at least once in this world.

But this raising a lava lamp to the ceiling where you have to crane your neck back in order to stare mesmerized by the slow motion bubbling bloops is just wrong. Lava lamps are meant to be much closer to eye level. Now combining an elegant table lamp with a lava lamp. Then you might have something.

[sluturu]

GAG ON IT .ᐟ — N. KENTO ୨‧₊˚✩

about. the only thing you want more than anything in the world is to get your boyfriend off but… you don't know how. luckily, nanami kento is a great teacher.

pairing. nanami kento x f!reader (non-sorcerer au)

wc. 2.6k

cw. dom!nanami, sub!virgin reader, (messy) oral (m. receiving), humiliation kink (if you squint), reader has a heavy praise kink, f!masturbation, pet names, face f!cking + deepthroating, head-pusher nanamin <3, slight angst (again, if you squint), reader is kinda insecure about lack of experience, lots of praise and validation ♡

kit’s note. hi, i'm (sorta) new here so pls forgive my writing and any mistakes... i haven't written in, like, 84 years and this really wasn’t supposed to be as long as it is. nonetheless, i hope u enjoy my very first jjk fic — kit ୨ৎ

nanami kento was one sexually experienced man. 

you knew this. from the very first glance, it was undeniable. something in the way he carried himself, the gravity of his presence, told you—no, assured you—that he would unravel you, reshape you, and leave his mark in ways you couldn’t yet comprehend.

and, of course, you were correct.

you, however, were his perfect contradiction, a stark contrast that bled into everything you had built together, evident in every moment, every choice, every collision of your worlds.

nanami was your first boyfriend, and while school had offered its version of ‘sex education’ and the internet had no shortage of explicit material, none of it had ever translated into real experience—well, until him.

you’ve been turned on before, no doubt about it. you’ve given yourself a few weak orgasms with an amazon vibrator, sure. but the carnal desire you got when nanami was around was a feeling you’d never experienced before. how could a man be so hot and sweet and turn you on without even trying? he was perfect. beyond perfect. 

and he was respectful. always so respectful. he wanted your first time to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of because he knows that’s what everyone deserves– it’s what you, above all, deserve. that’s why he decided to take it slow regardless of his personal desires. 

it started with soft pecks. the teeny tiny ones that had you aching for more. those slowly led to real kisses, his tongue seeking solace in your mouth, roaming and exploring the new territory. then came the make out sessions, him leaving love bites on your neck while you rocked yourself against him subconsciously. which finally verged on him eating you out with his thick, long fingers fucking in and out of your cunt. 

he was amazing– so mind-boggling that you couldn’t make sense of it. while you knew that he knew what he was doing, it had you appalled. he could make you cum one, two, three times in one sitting and you’ve never even heard of anything like this in your friends’ sex lives. 

there was one miniscule problem with nanami, though. when you would ask if he needed help with the big… issue in his pants, he’d brush you off with a “don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” like the gentleman he is.

the more and more he refused your helping hand, the worse you felt. why should you be the only one that gets to feel good? especially when it’s at the hand of someone as compassionate and caring as nanami. 

the insecurities had been festering within you for a while now. all you wanted was for him to feel good. you wanted him to have the same toe-curling experiences that he gives you. you wanted him to cum for you, because of you.

you’d hoped that one day, he might ask you for help to get him off, yet that day never came. 

it’s why you decided to take matters into your own hands, asking him to come over to your apartment and dropping to your knees the second he entered your home. you gave him the biggest doe eyes and pout you could muster. 

he was stunned, mouth ajar and eyes widened. you’re not usually so bold with him, which was fine. admittedly, he always thought your aversion to talking about sexual things was kinda cute. 

still awestruck after a minute, he breathily asks, “sweetheart, wh-what are you…” 

“well, ken, i’ve been thinking about you and me a lot lately and i realized… you’re always so giving… ‘n you’re always taking such good care of me.” you shyly trail off him as your hands itched to touch him… to take his cock into your hands– into your mouth. “i wanna take care of you now, if you’d let me?”

“you don’t have to do that, my love. i do those things because i want to, not because i have to. you should know that.” he says, airly. a voice that you’ve only ever heard a handful of times. one that makes your cunt pulse. 

“i know. i jus’ want you to use my mouth, ken. you’re… you’re always making me feel good,” you beg with your eyes. “wanna make you feel good, too.”

“oh, baby,” he smiles softly at you, hand cupping your cheek while his finger brushes over the pout on your lips. “but you always make me feel good.” 

you slightly open your mouth allowing his thumb to enter. your lips wrap around his finger, eyes fluttering close and a broken, needy moan sounding in your throat. you suck the way you’d actually suck him off, hand coming to wrap around his wrist while your tongue swirls around him.

nanami holds back his moan at the sight of you crazed and depraved. he’s seen you needy before but never to this degree. never so eager to please.

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your saliva over your lips. he pulls your bottom lip down, “you want it that bad, princess?”

 you nodded, “please— so bad, kento.” 

and he could never say no to you. especially not when you’re giving him teary eyes and that voice. 

so he nods, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. the sound alone excites you, yet you can’t help but feel the apprehension of being face to face with his cock. 

nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you. while you’d felt him through his pants during your messy makeout sessions, his intimidating size exceeded your expectations by a mile. you accepted the challenge, nonetheless. 

and now, here you were struggling to take his cock down your throat. and while he’d been praising you like crazy, you knew good and well he wasn’t getting off anytime soon. it’s when he suggested eating you out instead, you knew that your attempts were futile.

“you wanna try again, baby?” nanami coos softly as he strokes the top of your head. “we can stop if you wanna… i can eat that pretty pussy instead, i don’t mind at all.” the suggestion makes your heat throb but you shake your head incessantly. you can do this.

you look up at him through your wet lashes and he twitches in your dainty hand. “i wanna make you cum for once.” the words tumble out of your swollen lips in a mutter. 

he frowns, hands coming back to your cheeks, only this time, the pads of his thumbs meet the wet, heated skin, brushing away the remainder of your tears.

you might be too good for him. you don’t even know how many times the thought of you alone has gotten nanami off. you don’t know how many cold showers he’s had to take, how much self-control it takes to be around you.

he sighs, squishing your face and forces you to look up at him. “alright, sweetheart, open wide for me, yeah? i’ll guide you.” his hands force you to nod. your heart skips a beat and the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarm wildly in your stomach. 

you oblige almost immediately, parting your lips, ready to (try and) take him again. 

“‘kay, we’re gonna go slow. remember to breathe through your nose– and no teeth.” he instructs and you’re nodding, wrapping your pretty lips around his gorgeous length. “i’ll let you lead, you can move your head down a little more when you’re ready, yeah?”

nanami sharply exhales when he feels the warmth of your mouth. heat spreads through his toned body like a wildfire– you drive him crazy. 

even more crazy when you suddenly remember what you’ve seen in the pornos your friends forced you to watch. you look up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue swipe against the slit of his cock. “fuck, that’s it, sweet girl. use that tongue.”

you don’t know why, but the whispered curse that slips from his plump lips– lips that are raw from the way he can’t stop gnawing at them– has you arching into him. your cunt is begging for friction, so much so that it has you weeping. your eyes and your pussy. 

his praise spurs you on and you push your head down some more. it makes you gag, yes, but you remember what he said, breathing heavily through your nose. you’re already crying and looking back up to see his face contorted in pleasure has you taking him deeper and deeper. you need more of these reactions– you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more, but that could be the need to please clouding your judgment. 

nanami can’t resist the urge to fuck your cute little face when you look at him like that. the tears… the big, wide eyes trying to keep contact with his eyes… the way you look like a complete, utter mess all for him. 

he moves his hands to dig into your hair before pushing you some more. the tip of his cock gets lodged in your tight throat and he loses it when he feels you attempting to swallow around him.

he throws his head back and lets out an echoing moan. “you’re suuuch a good girl. take my cock so well, pretty. ‘m so p-proud of you.” he praises. “so good f’me, aren’t you?” 

you choke, letting the tears fall without an ounce of shame, but you nod with your mouth full of cock. you could care less about the way he’s actively bruising your throat, you’re making him feel good… and that makes you feel good. so good that you’re subtly fucking the air in hopes your boyfriend doesn’t notice.

“yeaaah, you are…” he hums, looking back down at you, taking him like the good girl you are. of course he notices you, he has a keen eye for these things. “aw, look at you. so needy… ‘s sucking me off getting you hot ‘n bothered?”

you whine in agreement, vibrating him to his core. you choke at the words, spluttering all over his cock creating bubbles of saliva at the base. his hands tug on your hair, pulling you off and it leaves you heaving, soft sobs ripping from your throat. 

“tell me, sweetheart. i wanna make sure my girl is always satisfied.” he demands in a somewhat authoritative tone.

“k-ken, don’t care ‘bout that– i-i wan’ you to cum,” you practically beg to have him back in your mouth, but his hands in your hair hold you still. 

he shakes his head, “uh-uh, none of that. go ahead and play with yourself for me, just like i taught you. you remember that, don’t you, my love?” 

he makes your head nod again, his cock throbbing at the sight of your drool covering the entirety of your chin. 

you let out a shaky breath as your hand moves from his muscular thigh to the waistband of your shorts. as you slip inside, your fingers find your desperate clit, rubbing it in circles the way he taught you. “k-ken, pl-please,” you moan.

he shudders, stomach flipping and cock twitching eagerly like he’s some teenager who’s never been touched. “please what, pretty girl?” he asks, his attempts to mask his neediness were vain and it was starting to show. 

“please, fuck my face, kento. ple–” your words are muffled by nanami shoving his cock back into your mouth. 

he lets his composure fly out the window, the guttural groan he’s been keeping down comes out loud– loud enough to make your eyes widen. “g-god, sweetheart– you’re… you’re gonna drive me–” he pushes your head down, squeezing his eyes shut as you swallow around him again. “insane. fuck, you’re so good, so good for me– fuck, baby, you’re making me feel so good.” 

nanami knows he’ll probably regret rambling like this later, but, unbeknownst to him, it has you rubbing your clit like your life depends on it. messy circles over the unduly sensitive bud while he thrusts into your mouth with just as much vigor. 

you gag and gag and the only thing it does is make nanami whine. he will definitely hate himself later for losing his self control, but right now? he’s madly in love with you and he’s showing it by giving you exactly what you want. pounding his cock into your mouth, using your face just like you asked. 

your eyes roll and brows furrow in ecstasy, the now-familiar knot in your tummy forms with zeal. 

“sweetheart– ugh, forgive me.” he moans, voice cracking handsomely. “fuck, baby. ‘m gonna cum– y-you’re making it so hard to hold back.” 

why would you want him to? that’s the exact opposite of what you want. you try to relay that by snaking your free hand to the back of his thigh and pulling him towards you. 

he hears your actions loud and clear and, before you know it, you feel the ribbons of seed painting your throat as his cock twitches uncontrollably. 

the groans that leave his mouth are sinful. you’ve never heard him sound like this in the entirety of your time together— so unhinged and feral. you find that what’s coming out of his mouth might be your favorite sound ever and it’s definitely become your favorite side of him. the side of nanami where he’s the complete opposite of his otherworldly, chivalrous self. the gentleman you’ve grown to know and love is a hungry, filthy, masked freak and you fear that you’ve just released a beast upon you. not that you mind in the slightest. the thought only excites you further.

“god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “so pretty and perfect, all for me. my good girl.” 

your fingers work faster at the praise and your muffled whimpers grow louder. all the while, your mouth overflows with his heavy load and you feel it beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. 

once nanami notices, he pulls himself out of your mouth and you cough, choking over the exorbitant amounts of cum in attempts to swallow all of it. 

“k-ken,” you heave, your voice hoarse. your fingers are still rubbing at your clit, uncoordinated, yet it’s getting the job done. “did i do okay?” 

nanami’s still coming down from his mind blowing orgasm, chest huffing and puffing, but when he hears you seeking validation, he’s on his knees before you in an instant. 

his hand slips in your panties and finds yours, your nimble fingers toying with your bud. 

“so well. now c’mere,” he mutters. his fingers guide yours— he’s simply moving yours for you— and his other hand comes to cup your cheek. hungry for a taste, he slams his lips against yours, tongue invading your mouth despite the fact that he just came in it. 

his fingers move yours faster and faster and you don’t even realize he’s pushing yours aside to take over. 

you’re so weak when it comes to him. with him tonguing your mouth and his fingers working you, it’s no wonder you're coming undone in less than a minute.

you moan a mantra of his name into his, your body going taut as the knot in your tummy unravels. 

he lets you ride it out, playing with your cunt till your shaky hands wrap around his wrist and you pull his hand away. 

he moves his lips to your cheek, trailing wet pecks all the way to your ear. he whispers in your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

“i might be addicted to your pretty little mouth, sweetheart.”

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

[a-soft-fluffy-girl]

TL;DR: Steam just made library sharing so much fucking easier and so much fucking better. Instead of login-trading, it's just a simple goddamn invite.

Read this. Really. It's a good read. Because it shows that, full-stop, Valve isn't just doubling down on their stance to make sure that people can and should be able to share their copies of digital goods as easily as they can physical ones, but they're making it better and easier than ever.

But you know how Steam allowed you to, with either friends or family, link accounts with another person to be able to establish an ability to share game libraries with one another? The general gist of Steam Family Sharing was that, with a limit of five people plus you (six in total) on a limit of ten computers total could share account access to willingly mix your libraries. You could play theirs. They could play yours.

This was a huge boon. It was meant to emulate sharing a physical copy of a game. A way to allow children to play games their parents or siblings had bought without having to fork over double the cash to buy it a second game. But it had some major limitations and drawbacks, and was archaic to use.

If a person did not share the same computer, you had to manually log into that computer to give it and the accounts on it access. This wouldn't be a problem if both accounts were used on the same computer, but many households (and astronomically more family and friend groups) had multiple computers, all used by different people.

If that computer, at any point, was hard reset to any point before the sharing occurred, you lost access. And had to do the whole process again. This was also an issue with computer transfers. The whole kit and kaboodle needed to be redone on upgrades. On top of that, the old computer is now just dead weight that you may not realize you have to manually revoke access to.

Putting your account information on another person's computer opens up security issues. They could, intentionally or accidentally, land themselves on your account if the login information was stored. Which could easily lead to purchases or bans you did not want to happen.

If anyone was, at any point, playing any game on their own library, you had no access to their games. Even if it was a totally different game, you had to wait your turn as if waiting for their computer to be freed up to sit at. (Admittedly this is kind of like the "mom said it's my turn on the xbox" meme, but hey, kinda archaic.)

You could not choose whose library you accessed a game from. Not at all. It always prioritized the first library it gained access from, DLC access and multiplayer be damned. If another friend you were accepting games from had more DLC? Too bad.

And yet here we are. Steam Families Beta fixes EVERYTHING about the above issues. By just going through Settings > Interface > client Beta Participation and clicking onto Steam Families Beta? You get:

No more login sharing. No more computer links. You can now choose which person's library you borrowed from. And you can play any other game from someone's library, even while they're in-game. It just needs to be a different game than what they're playing.

Pick five people. Invite them to your family. And now everyone has access to everyone's library. My goddamn library went from 150-ish to almost a goddamn thousand in ten minutes of setup.

Account sharing and password sharing are dirty words that "lose" billions of dollars. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Max. They aren't game storefronts, but they still allow you to access massive libraries and scream like you murdered their firstborns for daring to share your password with your mother after you moved out.

Microsoft tried pushing to demonize and undercut used games sales and borrowed copies of physical games. Remember the first attempt to reveal the Xbox One? People forget, but these vultures tried to make an always online console that checked to see if you were the account that owned the game, even if you had a physical disc, and prevent access to the disc's contents if you weren't the original downloader.

Valve walked the fuck up. Valve tapped the mic. And Valve dropped the fucking thing right onto the ground with one feature's revamp.

About the only issues I can see with this are twofold:

If someone sharing your library gets banned from a game's servers... so do you. No one else in the family does, but the both of you do. This is... rather unpleasant, because banhammers can be dropped quite frequently by mistake. I'd urge Valve to rethink this one, but I see the logic: don't cheat and effectively bite the hand feeding you. Still making me side-eye that, though.

If you leave a family you've joined? You have to wait a YEAR to join a new one. It's to prevent people form jumping ship to another group and screwing over who's in the former one in the process, but a YEAR? OUCH.

Problems aside, though... it's probably the biggest fucking power move I have ever seen a media distributor make in the current economic climate. It's the kind of thing that would let so many new games be available in a way that's easier than ever. Just a few clicks to send or accept an invite, and bam. Permanent access to dozens or even hundreds of new games with so much more freedom than earlier drafts of the system.

It's the kind of thing that slaps you in the face with positivity after so many Ls from the games and media industries. And I'm all the fuck for a W like this.

[remxedmoon]

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[loveanddeepthroat]

can i mc reader and sylus where mc ends up in hospital after a mission gone wrong and sylus shows up but she wants him to leave in case someone sees him there

Careless

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - You landed yourself in the hospital overnight after a mix up at HQ had you fighting too many Wanderer’s alone. You’re already bummed about being stuck at Akso, so the feeling of dread when Sylus turns up unexpectedly only adds to your unease.

Word Count - 2.3k

Warnings - Set in a hospital. Angst and fluff.

The incessant beeping of medical machinery echoing throughout the ward was getting to your sore head.

Akso Hospital was rammed full of casualties and emergencies, seeing as it was a Friday night. You felt a bit out of place amongst the partygoers and adventurous folk who had taken their fun a little too far.

In your opinion, you didn’t really need to be here. The eggplant coloured bruise on the right side of your forehead definitely looked a lot worse than it felt, but the doctors weren’t buying your claims that you weren’t in any pain.

Likely because you were wincing when you’d said it.

A night under their watch was what the doctor ordered, and it wasn’t up for discussion. You were just relieved that Doctor Zayne was working away for a week. He’d have checked you in indefinitely and scheduled an hour long lecture on why you needed to be more careful.

A mix up at HQ had the system only requesting that you attend a spontaneous Wanderer attack in Linkon Library. Just one had been reported, but seven of the ruthless bastards had accosted you the minute you stepped foot in the evacuated building.

Confident that you could handle them, you didn’t bother calling in for more Hunters. As it turned out, that confidence was misplaced, and the last thing you remembered before blacking out was a loud screeching sound. You had no idea what it was, but it hadn’t been important in your unconscious state.

When you eventually awoke in the hospital, Jenna had been hanging over you, immediately giving you the third degree for continuing alone. You should’ve known that the alert for only your assistance had been a mistake in the system, and you should’ve insisted that someone accompany you no matter what it had said.

She made sure to drill that into your head more than once.

Admittedly, you were glad to see the back of her once she had finally left. Your head was starting to throb with the volume of her voice, and all you wanted was the bliss of being unconscious again.

It was late now, and you were exhausted. Sleep was looking to be impossible tonight, however. There were several other patients on the same ward, all admitted with varying ailments. The injured man opposite you had done nothing but stare coldly from the moment he was wheeled in in a full leg cast.

You tried to speak to him. You offered him a polite smile, which was met with a sneer. Whatever his problem with you was, it was beginning to get on your nerves.

You just wanted to go home.

“Miss,” a softly spoken nurse greeted as she approached your bed. “There’s a visitor here to see you.”

You frowned, wondering if you heard her correctly over the hustle and bustle of the ward. It was well past visiting hours, and you couldn’t think of anyone other than your colleagues who knew that you were even at the hospital.

The man with the broken leg frowned, too. “What? She gets special treatment because she’s a so-called hero? I should get visiting rights, too!”

“Would you like me to let him in?” The nurse asked, ignoring the grumbling patient.

Him. That didn’t exactly narrow things down.

“Uhh,” you faltered, a little unsure. You didn’t want to cause any issues with the other patients. “Are you sure?”

The nurse nodded and smiled, though it looked a bit forced. It almost seemed like she was desperate for you to say yes to your mystery visitor.

“Okay,” you finally agreed. 

The look of relief on her face was not lost on you. She quickly hurried away to retrieve whoever came to see you, leaving you to endure the displeasure from the man opposite.

“I used to be a mailman, you know? If it weren’t for me, people wouldn’t have had their mail. Do I get special treatment, though? No, of course not. You Hunters get all the glory and adoration. And I’ll tell you another thing—”

“You’ve told her plenty.”

Prominent footsteps sounded from the doorway, the atmosphere immediately becoming heavy and tense. You almost choked on absolutely nothing at the sight of him.

Sylus.

Your eyes flared, heart hammering against your ribcage like a drum. He couldn’t be here. The risk was far too great.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the grumpy man sneered back, looking him up and down, “…vampire.”

It was a colourful insult, and one that made your unwelcome companion chuckle. “If you’ll excuse us,” he began, the swirling red vines of his Evol appearing to drag the man’s cubicle curtain to a close at a leisurely pace. “Mailman.”

To your relief, there was no backlash from the irritated patient across the room. Although that did make you wonder if he wasn’t retaliating by his own choice, or if Sylus had silenced him somehow. The latter wouldn’t have surprised you.

“What on earth are you doing here?!” you hissed quietly. “You can’t be here, Sylus.”

Crimson eyes didn’t meet yours, his cold gaze set only on the bandages around your head as he approached your bedside, closing your curtain behind him. He didn’t quite look like himself. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, green and blue veins prominently making an appearance.

“I’ll think twice before taking advice from a woman who was very recently knocked unconscious amidst a 7v1 Wanderer fight,” he rebuked monotonously. 

You scoffed. “I’m fine, if that’s why you came. Feel free to go back to—”

“Fine?” His face quickly turned from emotionless to severely unamused as he cut you off sharply. “That’s quite the contradiction, sweetie.”

You raised an eyebrow barely high enough for him to see your questioning expression. The gesture hurt, which wasn’t helping your case. “To what?”

He dragged a plastic chair towards your bed before sitting down, his ankles crossed in front of him. You couldn’t really read his demeanour. He almost seemed cross with you.

“To what I saw from Mephisto,” he responded tightly.

Mephisto. 

That explained the screeching you heard before you slipped into unconsciousness. “And what exactly was Mephisto doing there?”

Sylus merely shrugged, offering nothing verbal in response. The lackadaisy gesture did nothing but piss you off. You’ve told him countless times to stop sending Mephisto out to keep tabs on you, and each time it seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

He clearly was not pleased with you, but you weren’t stupid. He was here because you had concerned him. Sylus was a busy man, especially at this time of night. He wouldn’t have come just to berate you with words that could’ve been put into a text message.

Not that you knew where your phone was.

The atmosphere between you both fell into silence, only the sounds of medical machinery filling in the lack of conversation. You didn’t really know what to say to him, and he wasn’t typically the type to lose his words. But it was clear to see that he didn’t know what to say, either.

After a long moment, he cleared his throat, his hands flexing in his lap. “I told you those guns of yours were pathetic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my guns,” you mumbled with a roll of your eyes.

“So it’s a skill issue?”

You glared harshly at him, flinching noticeably as you did. You weren’t sure what was bothering you more, the pain in your head or the mood that Sylus was so clearly in. 

His features softened ever so slightly as he recognised your pain. Still, that didn’t stop him from being an asshole. “It’s one or the other, kitten.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. If there was one thing you didn’t want Sylus to think of you as, it was weak. You weren’t sure why you cared so much, but you did.

“I suppose my guns are a little on the outdated side,” you murmured begrudgingly.

He smirked, his hands finally relaxing a little in his lap. The awkward atmosphere was slowly fading, which you were grateful for. You didn’t want to pry into his mind and make things worse again.

You buried your head a little further into the pillow beneath your sore head, letting your eyes fall shut for a moment. Fatigue was starting to settle in your body, almost dragging you into a swift sleep before your chilly hand was captured in a warm embrace.

Your eyes shot open again, finding Sylus out of his seat and leaning over you. His eyes were a bit wider than usual. “Have they checked you for a concussion?” 

“Yeah,” you told him gently. The close proximity had you flustered. “I’m a little concussed, but I’m allowed to sleep.”

His brows drew together slightly as he studied you. You’ve both had these strange little moments before, when his mask slips away just enough to see his true feelings.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered in reassurance. “You should go, Sylus.”

He shook his head, his hand tightening slightly over yours. It looked like an effort, but he managed to smirk at you again. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

Beneath that facade of humour, he was a little bit wounded. You wouldn’t point it out, but you could see it. He was a stubborn bastard who wasn’t going to let you push him away, but he also didn’t like that you were trying to push him away.

It wasn’t as if you wanted him to go. Your relationship with him was…complicated.

Complicated in the sense that you weren’t in a relationship, but he had a habit of establishing a level of intimacy between you both that you weren’t blind to. Good morning and goodnight texts, constant invites to events as his plus one with no other reason than to be beside him, and random gifts left on your doorstep so often that your elderly neighbour recently asked if you were ‘getting some.’

A relationship with him would be very difficult to maintain. You both come from entirely different worlds that just could not merge. No matter how much you desired him, you had to maintain your composure.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” you sighed. “I just don’t like how careless you’re being by showing up here. Some people do worry, you know.”

He slowly lowered his loom over you so that his nose was just inches away from yours. You couldn’t help but swallow, feeling his steady breath on your lips as he spoke. It was intimidating and yet so intimate that you didn’t know whether to cower or cut him off with a kiss you never knew you wanted. 

“You don’t think I’m worried about you?” he drawled in a rather serious manner.

“That’s not what I—”

“Do you not realise how it looked through Mephisto’s eyes when you were walloped a great distance across a library and crumpled to the floor like a lifeless body.” His teeth were gritted in his mouth, the word ‘body’ coming out tightly like his tongue was rejecting the word. “You’re not the only person who is worried here. Do not brand me incapable of such feelings.”

Your mouth went a little dry, tears threatening to invade your eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in his worry, and you hadn’t meant for it to come across that way.

“I just don’t want you to risk your freedom for me,” you whispered shakily.

He lifted his hand from where it was holding him up beside your free hand, carefully moving some strands of your hair that had fallen over your bandages. 

“I’d risk it all for you.”

He had never said such a thing to you in all the time you’d been acquainted. You knew that he would carry out every need you might have of him. You knew that he would listen to you sit and ramble on and on about anything, never interrupting you. You knew that he cared about you.

But you were still in the dark when it came to the extent of that care.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmured.

Thankfully, you caught yourself before you were about to shake your sore head. “Just…trying to figure you out.”

A smile slowly spread across his lips. A real smile. It was enough to make your heart flutter, embarrassingly made noticeable by the heart rate monitor you were hooked up to.

“It would require a lot of brainpower to do that, sweetie. Maybe lose the concussion first,” he said in his typically sarcastic tone.

You managed your own small smile, which blossomed into a chuckle. This was the side of Sylus that had you coming back to him whenever he asked for your company.

His real side.

He kept his hand atop your head, avoiding the bandages completely. His thumb swiped gently over the parting of your hair, pulling you off to sleep again. You were pretty sure that he was doing it on purpose to force you into rest, but you were in no position to argue with him. You were officially exhausted.

“Would you really like me to leave, kitten?” he asked in a soft whisper as your eyes fluttered.

The very thought of him leaving made you a little upset. Despite your attempts at convincing the doctors you were fine, you damn well were not. You needed his comfort, and he needed to know that you were safe and on the road to a speedy recovery.

“No,” you whispered, succumbing to the soothing strokes on your scalp.

A soft brush of his lips was the last thing you felt before you finally drifted off, feeling secure enough to do so with his company.

“Good,” he’d whispered back before you fully clocked out. “I’ll always be careless so long as I get to you.”

A/N - Long time no fic post. I apologise, life has been crazy. I haven’t proof read this cause honestly I’m just too tired so I’ll read over it in the morning and edit any mistakes. Hope you’re all doing well! 🖤

[mercy-burning]

Father Figure (1/2)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer becomes an unlikely source of comfort after his son breaks up with you. (PART 1 of 2) Category: Mature (18+) Content: Adults w/age gap, perv!Spencer strikes again, masturbation, drinking, kissing. Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Pushing the hot old man agenda once again, I'm not even sorry about it. Smut will be in Part 2, which I'm almost done with--I just have to workshop the end a little bit. And remember, pals: If he wanted to, he would. And if he won't, then his dad will (AKA the quote I saw on TikTok that inspired this fic lmao) Also, I apologize if adding a real song with real lyrics in the middle of this is cringey, but I had A Vision, and I needed it to be realized, okay? Let a girl have some fun!!!

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

...THE COFFEE SHOP

Spying on his son was never exactly a pastime of Spencer's, even less so now since the kid is not really a kid anymore. Still, when that kid breaks up with his long-term girlfriend of four years and then goes on a first date a day later, a father is left to wonder...

He feels bad especially for the ex-girlfriend, who had been nothing but an absolute joy; always bringing gifts and snacks to the house, celebrating the Reid boys' birthdays with extra love and care, and bringing a warm and happy energy that demanded love and care right back.

He can't imagine how you must be feeling.

Your face dances in flashes behind his eyelids as he pokes around the corner of the coffee shop, wondering what could possibly be so enticing about this other woman that his son would throw away something so extraordinary.

Even as he spots Cameron, beaming and eagerly listening to the beautiful young woman in front of him, it pains Spencer to imagine the other side of the coin.

He sighs and turns away, wondering what could have changed his son's mind, but understanding that ultimately it's not any of his business. From what he knows about the breakup, Cameron had been kind and forthright through all of it, offering his father the simple explanation of, "I don't dislike her at all, she's a nice girl... I just don't love her anymore. That's all."

That's all...

When you've spent the first half of your young adult life with the same someone, that logic isn't impossible; Inevitably you'll meet new people and feel bright, new feelings, and old feelings can dissipate just as quickly.

On every logical level, there's nothing inherently wrong with this situation, and still, Spencer can't fight off the uneasy tension in his chest as he sits with it.

As he turns the corner and begins to try and place where exactly that feeling might come from, a loud gasp stops him in his tracks.

His eyes take a moment to look you over, looking to anyone else like he might need some time to process that it's you, but really, his brain knows it right away. Admittedly, he's just glad to see you. Though right now you're visibly shocked and perhaps a little embarrassed, you still radiate that undeniable warmth that brings a slow smile to his face. The tension he feels doesn't fade so much as it shifts, from uneasy to something more electric. More problematic.

What the fuck is your problem? his inner-voice barks, so loudly he almost thinks he's said it out loud.

Spencer shifts direction quickly, reminding himself how to act like a normal human being, and more importantly, how to act when faced with his son's ex-girlfriend, who is clearly doing the same thing he's doing.

"What a pleasant surprise," he beams reaching forward to offer a hug, which you take. Perhaps a dumb move considering the funk he just had to snap himself out of, but if he can carefully guide you in the other direction to save you the spiral of spying on your ex-boyfriend's new date, then so-be-it.

You pull away and he does too, his hands lingering but not touching you. Still, he feels you just as vividly.

"Doctor Reid, what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to hold his eye contact but ultimately succumbing to the urge to glance at the window behind him.

He sighs, offering a sympathetic smile. "The same thing as you, I'm afraid..."

The horror on your face makes his stomach churn, but then it's gone in an instant, replaced by an eye-crinkling laugh that takes him by surprise.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about!"

You're trying so hard to convince him, and probably yourself as well, and it unfortunately amuses him. Your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, not bright and genuine like he's always known, but it's still beautiful. His gaze lingers a little too long on it before he meets your eyes again, watching them flash with something petrified as he grins.

"Clearly..."

You cross your arms, jutting your chin out and attempting a new tactic. "Look, I'm not that pathetic, okay? I don't like what you're implying. Besides, why are you spying on Cam, huh? It's not like he broke up with you to be with your best friend..."

The smile slowly disappears from his face as you speak, that sharp sense of unease creeping back into his system and curling up through his lungs like cigarette smoke. "What?"

You don't bother trying to hide it anymore, a sad shrug weighing down your body as your face softens into something melancholic and distant. Your voice is barely there when you speak, the sound of nearby traffic nearly drowning you out. "Guess he didn't tell you that part, huh..."

"No, he didn't."

You sigh and tighten your arms, seemingly holding yourself together as not to fall apart at the seams. "Did you see them? Did they look happy?"

Spencer's stomach churns again, and he shakes his head incredulously. "Hon, maybe you should—"

"Did they?" you ask again more desperately, your voice cracking between words. He can hear the sadness in it, the devastation and the confusion, the need to understand...

An irrational anger starts to brew somewhere in the depths of his being, even though he knows he doesn't have the whole story. But he firmly decides that he can grapple with Cameron and his choice of a girlfriend at a more appropriate time, and probably even have a man-to-man conversation with him about the whole thing... He also firmly decides that the arrival of these indescribable tense feelings should also be dealt with, though preferably in his next therapy session and not right this second.

Because right now, there's a bright young woman on the verge of tears right in front of him, her sparkle dulling with each passing second, and the best thing to do is to get her away from the problem at large—Not to do anything that will only make it worse.

Spencer rushes to you and gently scoops you into another hug, your body nestling into his with an exhaustion that he fears he knows all too well. As you squeeze his shirt and start to cry, he leads you away from the building and down the sidewalk, wondering if you can hear how loudly his heart is breaking for you.

Eventually he leads you away from public eye, a small clearing about three blocks away and beyond some trees. Being late August, they've started to change color, but not by much. By now you've removed yourself from his full embrace, but still cling to his arm as you find the room to calm down, looking up at the trees.

He walks silently beside you, giving you the space to breathe and think. To rest. The sun is high in the sky, bright beams poking through the leaves and limbs, and when you finally stop walking, one of them catches your eye. It glistens with tears that haven't fallen yet, and when you stare up at the sky and close your eyelids, a small droplet finally strolls down your cheek.

Your arms tighten around Spencer's and he fights the urge to wipe the tear from your face with his free hand.

"I'm so sorry," he says instead. "I wish I knew what to do."

You open your eyes then, a small breeze picking up and rustling the trees. He can hear wind chimes in the distance, he thinks, or maybe it's just a figment of his imagination—a manifestation of the dulcet, melodic comfort you've brought to his life over the years. In a strange way, he supposes you do somewhat feel like home to him. Normalcy. Softness. Beauty.

He hadn't even realized it until your sadness had overwhelmed him.

"Thank you," you tell him, pulling away finally to look him dead-on. You smile again, and though it's sad, and still beautiful, this time it finally reaches your eyes. "You're a good man, Doctor Reid."

He certainly doesn't feel like a good man.

Not when you reach up and hug him with your arms draped over his shoulders. Not when his hands feel right at home at the small of your back. Not when he can hardly breathe as your mouth murmurs another, "thank you," into the crook of his neck. Not when you start to pull away, sliding your soft hands down over his shoulder blades and tilting your head. Not when your thankful lips make contact with his cheek, featherlight and heavy all the same. Not when, even after you pull away completely, your presence is still with him, making him warm and fluttery and stupid.

Not when he misses you, hours later, still buzzing from your touch...

And when Cameron comes home that evening, practically walking on clouds and beaming with lovesick stupor after his day out with your best friend, that tension and irrational anger starts to grow stronger, muddled with confusion.

No. Spencer Reid is convinced that he is not a good man.

If he was, he wouldn't be laying awake at night, absentmindedly caressing his face where your lips had been hours before, staring at the photo on his bedside table of the three of you just a year ago.

Right after you and Cam had graduated college, you all took a road trip to the Grand Canyon and a stranger offered to take your photo. You were happy and in love, holding on to Cam's arm the same way you held onto Spencer's earlier today. The sun was shining on your face, though back then it wasn't illuminating drying tears. Your smile reached your eyes, but it wasn't masking profound sadness.

If Spencer Reid was a good man, he would be letting it go and moving on instead of vowing to spend eternity trying to mend a heart he didn't break. He wouldn't be exacting his own twisted form of vengeance under the covers, stroking himself to the thought of you—to the thought of treating you right.

If he was a good man, he certainly wouldn't be staring at your photo on his bedside table as he did so, calling out your name in a hushed whisper—a prayer.

And yet, here he lays, the thought of you bringing him to completion.

"He didn't deserve you, sweet girl," he confesses breathlessly, right at the precipice. He comes in hot ropes over his bare stomach, visions of your bright eyes and warm, beautiful lips helping him right along.

His first exhale of breath as the high subsides comes out as a form of maniacal laughter; Not only is he now stuck with a mess he has to clean at almost two in the morning, but he's also devolving, clarity smacking right into him like a freight train.

Spencer swears, wishing he'd simply ignored the feeling that urged him to follow Cameron on his date earlier that day. He wishes he'd let it go.

He looks at your picture again and sighs, laughing to himself. "I don't deserve you either."

...THE BAR

Two weeks and two therapy sessions later, and Spencer doesn't feel any better, really.

He hasn't seen you since that day at the coffee shop, but it's like he sees you every day anyway. You're there when he sleeps, mostly. He meets you in dreams, wiping your tears and kissing you better. Each time, you gladly return the favor, kissing him back and subsequently healing some deep part of him he hadn't even realized was ailed.

But obviously that's just a product of this strange, pathetic, fucked-up obsession he's spiraled into, and not anchored to the truth in any way.

That's what he tells himself, at least... no matter how badly he wants there to be truth in it.

Still, it's hard when even the time and distance between you can't seem to shake your effect on him.

Though, perhaps Cameron's role in all of this could be the key to this lingering feeling. He is a common denominator, after all, and the knowledge that he'd chosen to be with your best friend instead of you so soon after breaking it off still rubs him the wrong way. Which, in all honesty, is a conversation he doesn't want to have just yet; It would probably be best if he had a clear mind, one not constantly plagued by daydreams of railing you under the trees in the clearing where you last touched him.

Spencer sighs and takes his glasses off, tossing them aside. He presses his palms into the sides of his face, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he can until he sees stars, and promptly decides that he needs to leave the house.

Fresh air usually does the trick, but for whatever reason, this long walk to the park is not doing him any favors. The way the leaves rustle in the wind only brings him back to that fateful moment with you in his arms, seeking comfort, and quite frankly, the August heat is making him more irritable.

So, he wanders off to uncharted territories: a random bar that should be pretty dead on a random Wednesday mid-afternoon. He's not exactly sure what it is he hopes to find, but as long as it's a good enough distraction, or even some peace and quiet, he'll gladly take it.

The place isn't very busy, or bright. Neon signs and dim table lamps are about the only sources of light, but compared to the sun outside, Spencer finds it more than comfortable. Some Country duet he doesn't recognize booms over the speakers, low-tempo and sad, but not horrible. The melancholic melody swims nicely through his brain, setting the scene as he sits down at a random table somewhere near the back.

A hostess is quick to ask him what he wants to drink and offers a menu, but all he orders is a glass of water. Whether she questions it or not, he doesn't pay attention. But when she returns about a minute later with his glass, he does notice that the song has finished and started over.

"Hope you don't mind the song," the hostess says with a sigh, noting his quiet curiosity. "Poor thing over there requested it on a loop until she got drunk enough to forget about it..."

Spencer's eyes follow her head-nod towards the corner of the room, where a girl sits slumped over the table with her chin in her hand, the other hand tearing at a napkin.

His heart sinks and skips at the same time as recognition strikes him like lightning.

The hostess has walked away by now, and his still gaze can't seem to wander anywhere else. The odds of him going somewhere random to distract himself from thought of you, only to be graced with your presence, feels too coincidental. It's too good of an excuse to just ignore, consequences be damned.

Right?

Should he say hello? Should he offer to get you home before you truly do become too drunk to be aware of your surroundings?

Regardless of how he feels about you, that would be the responsible, parental thing to do, right?

Jesus fucking Christ, he sighs to himself, downing his water before getting up to see you.

As he gets closer, he hears you humming along to the song, sighing dramatically in between breaths, until you look up to finally meet his eyes and it becomes a gasp.

"Doctor Reid!" you exclaim, sitting straight up and thrusting your arms out in welcome. Your smile is tired, but life has ever-so-slightly begun to creep back into your features. The thought of being a familiar face, and a pleasant one at that, to bring you that life does more to him than he should admit out loud.

A warmth settles into him as your eyes rake over his figure, half-like you can't quite decide if he's real and half-like you might be checking him out.

Don't be weird, he scolds himself, though he's still unable to keep the amused grin from his lips as he greets you gently. Cautiously. "Hello again, sweetheart."

"I'm not spying on Cameron this time, what's your excuse?"

It doesn't entirely make sense, but he understands what you mean. Still, it's not like he can tell you that he was trying to distract himself from thinking about you, so he simply shrugs. "Felt like a change of scenery. I don't get out much."

You giggle a little and slump back down, resting your chin against your hands, still smiling. "Yeah, I know. Are you sad about something, too?"

Spencer shakes his head. "No... Just... bored, I guess."

"Well, you're welcome to join me! I'm not much fun like I used t'be, but the company'd be nice."

How could he deny your invitation, when you're exaggerating a toothy, tipsy smile and batting your eyes like you want something? It charms him almost as much as it scares him.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," he tells you, pulling up a chair across from you and sliding in. His leg accidentally bumps into yours, and it sends a chill through him. He tries to keep himself calm and collected, but wonders if he looks spooked, because you give him a look.

Turns out, it's just an inebriated look of disbelief. "No, I really am pathetic these days... You don't have to be nice to me, I know it's the truth."

He knows better than to argue with a woman, especially on a subject so sore, so he takes a different approach. "Well, pathetic or not, I still care about you anyway. So I'm more than happy to sit with you for however long you need the company."

You consider his words and then pout, finishing off your drink before you loudly wave your desire for another drink. "And bring one for my new best friend, too!"

Spencer can't help the laugh that leaves him, though you're too caught up in your own little world to notice it.

The same hostess brings over two drinks, eyeing him suspiciously, but before she walks away, you laugh. "It's okay, Anna! That's Doctor Reid, he's my best friend now. My old best friend is out screwing my ex-boyfriend."

"Who happens to be my son," he offers as a more clear explanation as to why he's taken to 'befriending' this drunk woman in a near-empty bar.

Anna looks between you two and nods, amused but not questioning the drama. "Gotcha. If you need anything, just holler."

The song has started over again by this point, and though Spencer's had a bit more excitement than anticipated, it's not enough to forget about it. He recalls Anna's words and the pitying tone in her voice, and tilts his head, watching as you take another sip of your drink. "How many times have you heard this song today?"

"Dunno," you sigh. "Lost count. Cam and I used to sing it together all the time. Not very well, but it was our thing..."

"Hmm, I didn't know that... I don't think I've heard it until today."

"Yeah, well you don't get out much."

A laugh bubbles up out of him involuntarily once again, your charm—even influenced by alcohol and misery—a natural harbinger of joy. The fact that you probably don't even know it only adds to the experience.

Even the way you laugh at his laughing is infectious, until the two of you are mutually giggling and sipping your drinks, and while the song is not forgotten, it's at the very least drowned out by the sound of laughter. Alcohol still may be involved, sure, but where you'd been tired and lost before, the weariness has been lifted by his hand, if only for a moment, and so for now that would have to do.

Eventually, there's a rather quiet moment between you, a lull in conversation that isn't driven by awkwardness or boredom, but by something else that Spencer can't quite put his finger on. He's not entirely convinced that you've sobered up at all, but the hazy look in your eyes isn't so much drunkenness as much as it is mystified. By what, he doesn't know, but it's making him warmer inside than a singular ounce of any alcohol could ever accomplish.

The thought makes him set down his glass; Perhaps he's had enough.

"What's that look for, sweetheart?" he asks quietly, a little too afraid that he should have omitted the nickname. Where it'd been intended innocently before, this time it comes out entirely different, his enamored, lust-drunk curiosity getting the better of him before he can think differently.

His stomach twists.

Still, that look on your face intensifies, and your head tilts thoughtfully, eyes studying him again. Their trail winds everywhere, from his mouth to his hands to his neck... When you finally meet his gaze again, you lean back in your chair. A smile unlike any other he's ever seen adorns your face and sends a jolt through his nervous system.

"I like when you call me that, you know..."

"Yeah?"

Stop it, Spencer...

You nod slowly, never taking your eyes off of him.

If he were a good man, he'd blame it on the drinking and tell you to get home safe, being on his merry way, considering the fact that you're probably just hurting and desperate to get back at Cameron somehow, and that he's a convenient means to a sweet, revengeful end.

He lets the moment hang in the air for a while, holding your stare and feeling his resolve start to crumble beneath the weight of it. That damn song still drawls out beneath the sharp, distant clatter of dishes and late-lunch conversation, and your pretty eyes are easily the brightest source of light in the whole place, begging him to make a move and singing just as loudly, too. They're waiting. Eager. Hungry... All of it is almost too much to take at once.

And then...

"Let me take you home, sweetheart."

He knows it's mean. He also knows that it's going to hurt. But if he doesn't, he knows he'll end up regretting it.

Spencer helps you out of the building and gives Anna a twenty-dollar tip on the way out.

You're more stable than he thought you'd be, walking in a straight line and not stumbling at all as he takes you to your car. He holds his hand out for your keys, to which you oblige without problem, letting your touch linger. As he helps you in the passenger seat and buckles your seat belt, he notices your eyes are closed, but that you're smiling.

"Something funny?" he asks, getting the buckle in place. Still he remains there, arms trapping you into the seat.

You shake your head and open your eyes, searching the features of his face and sinking further into the upholstery. Your smile softens, but doesn't waver in its genuine joy, which is why it breaks his heart when you reply, "Nope." The word is quiet. Serious. The moment is everything he wished it could be, your eyes swimming with some form of devotion that calls to him like a sirens' song.

Only, he can still smell the inebriation on your breath, potent and grounding him to reality, and so he must continue to be mean.

He smiles at you before pulling away and closing your door, then walking to the drivers' side while taking the deepest breath of his life. It's courage and disappointment and humor all in one fucked-up intake of oxygen, but it gives him the push he needs to finally open the car door and begin your journey home.

The ride is mostly quiet, though, save for your humming. The haunting melody will stick around in his head for weeks, he's sure, just another thing to constantly remind him of you, and another thing to break his heart every time he sees his son's smiling face.

Even though he can feel the fury and confusion and lust swimming around in his body like a whirlpool, Spencer manages to walk you up the stairs of your apartment, and to your door, without losing any ounce of control. He leads you gently through your home until you've reached the bedroom, and even then he doesn't falter.

It does make him nervous though, feeling your hands on him. You're a little more unsteady now, though he attributes that to the soon-to-be broken, unspoken promise of sex. It pains him, knowing he used your influenced in-the-moment attraction to him as an excuse to get you safely home. But had he simply left you there to suffer alone, at the mercy of substances and strangers who might not have been so kind, he would have felt worse.

He helps you take off your shoes and puts your belongings on the bedside table, feeling your eyes on him and hoping you won't remember enough of this later to hate him or hate yourself after the fact.

When Spencer turns around, you're already sitting on the bed, and while the sight of it entices him more than words could accurately say, he refrains. He puts on his most fatherly face, crosses his arms, and braces himself for the blow.

"Come on. Under the covers."

"It's only like noon."

Not quite the response he was expecting, but he can work with it. He smiles, just a little. "It's almost Three-PM. You should really get some rest. You look like you haven't slept in days."

Your eyes drop to the floor, and Spencer can feel his heart drop there, too, when you say quietly, "I haven't..."

Against his better judgement, he steps forward and catches your attention again, your head lifting to meet his eyes.

"I know, sweetheart. Sleep."

Your response is a shaky breath and big, watery eyes, the last few weeks of sadness catching up to you. Watching it unfold in real-time is utterly heartbreaking, so much so that when you ask him an unexpected question, he doesn't have the heart, or the brain, to say no.

"Will you sing me to sleep?"

"Of course."

You lie down then, shuffling your way under the covers as Spencer sits down beside you, helping you settle in. His hand instinctively reaches out to gently massage your scalp, something that had always put Cameron to sleep when he'd wake up with nightmares.

Though, he never sang to him. He never was good at it...

Still, because he can't seem to resist your charms, he tries anyway, singing the only thing he can think of at the moment. A newly familiar smoky tune that he now knows every single word to.

"Every woman deserves a moment of weakness. Last night with me was yours, I guess. I must have whispered what you wanted to hear. And when I asked you, you probably said yes."

Softly, you hum along with him on the next part, a duet of desperation and longing that definitely sounds better over the bar speakers, but feels more accurate in this small, sorrowful bedroom.

"Cause it sounds like something I'd say, in the midst of lonely and the Marlboro haze. It sounds better in the dark than in the light of day, but it sounds like something I'd say."

With your eyes closed, you smile, breathing a small laugh through your nose. "You're better at it than he was."

Spencer is surprised by your words and how much they twist this serrated, beautiful knife. They only remind him of the gravity of the situation at hand—at how badly he shouldn't be here right now... He shouldn't care so much, he shouldn't revel in the fact that you're actively feeding into this fantasy where he's healing you and fixing the mistake that his son made...

He shouldn't be falling in love with you.

Of course, he refuses to even consider that possibility, even though he's feeling things around you that he's only ever felt for a few others.

Still, it rattles him enough that after you've finally fallen fast asleep and he walks home, he schedules an extra session with his therapist and takes a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away any lingering trace of you.

Naturally, no amount of scorching water, soap, or steam seems to do the trick.

He wonders if it ever will.

...THE CLEARING

Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest, and in your brain, and in your fingertips... You can practically feel it thrumming in every part of your body as you sit on a log and soak up what small rays of sunshine manage to find their way through the trees.

Thank you for bringing me home earlier... I'm sorry if I made your day weird or inconvenient.

The world around you is beautiful, bright, and lively, though something nameless is missing. You know whatever it is will appear with vivid recognition when he shows up, but there's a small lick of fear creeping up the back of your neck and finding its way into your brain that wonders if he won't... That somehow you've fabricated this whole thing—plucked out imaginary moments of warmth from a desperate place in need of comfort, and neatly placed them in the massive hole left in your heart by Cameron and Danica and their betrayal.

It's not a problem at all. I'm glad you got home safe. Rest, and remember to take your time. These things don't heal overnight.

You hadn't expected Spencer to text you back right away, given that it was just after midnight and you'd never really known him to be much of a night owl. Not to mention you probably should have deleted his phone number after the breakup in the first place. Sure, he had been kind to you after everything which was a relief and a comfort, but there had to be some unspoken rule about late-night texting your ex-boyfriend's dad and expecting a response, much less right away.

But then, your phone lit up with his message almost immediately, and there was an odd clenching in your stomach that refused to subside even long into the early hours of morning.

Your fingers moved in response before your brain had a chance to think it over.

Did you sing to me or did I make that up?

There was a bit more time after that until he responded, and you swore you'd fucked it all up. You threw up and downed a glass of water, but when you picked up your phone again, his name was there. You were suddenly nauseous again, but at the mercy of something else, something familiar and foreign all at once.

I don't know if I'd call what I did "singing"... But sure. Ha

God, you hadn't smiled so hard in... Could you even remember how long it had been? Even now, you think on it and can't even come up with a ballpark answer, which should sadden you but only makes your heart flutter once more. In that moment, reading his words, memories came flooding back. Flickers of your drunken afternoon with Spencer started to string together, feeling more like a movie and less like a silly revenge fantasy.

Without even thinking, you texted him with the truth, even if you didn't quite know what it meant yet.

Either way, I like hearing your voice. It'd be nice to hear it more often.

His response made you laugh so hard you almost threw up again.

Are you still drunk?

You weren't, and you aren't, but you may as well be. Merely the thought of him has you dizzy, and every day it grows worse and worse as you text and talk on the phone like you're best friends.

This morning's message still sings in the back of your mind as you wait for him, melodically bright and filling in the gaps of silence where the trees don't rustle.

Is it weird that I really want to see you again?

You replied, Is it weird that I don’t think that’s weird at all?

And since then you’ve wondered, is it even weirder that you’d go so far to say you’re so incredibly flattered by his words that your entire body pulsates with a violent wave of heat just thinking about seeing him face-to-face again?

The gentle breeze does nothing to cool you down, the sweet, damning effect of Spencer Reid burying you alive even hours later.

When you spot him, the world stops rotating. He’s bright smiles and warm eyes and long, fluid limbs, and as he makes his way towards you, you forget how to stand. Your ass is completely glued to its resting spot on the log, and your legs are of no help. All you can do is stare at him and feel your heart flutter rapidly in your chest. You’re not even sure if you’re smiling, though the thought of being caught just staring at him with your tongue practically hanging out is embarrassing enough to pull one from you anyway.

Only when his hand extends to help you up do you finally snap out of whatever dream-world you’ve put yourself in and clear your throat with an avoidant laugh.

“Hi,” you greet him stupidly, still too overwhelmed by him to try anything more interesting.

Spencer grins down at you, your gaze trailing softly upwards along the length of his face until you meet his eyes, and only then does he reply, “Hi.”

The word is infinitely more interesting coming from his well-spoken, experienced lips. They even go the extra mile, twitching up into a larger grin at your silence.

You’re lovesick, he’s amused, and this is entirely fucked.

“What were you up to today?”

Thankfully, even your poor attempt at small talk is merely a small embarrassment scrawled in sand and violently washed away by the tides of his voice. When he speaks, it cleanses you. Clears your mind. Offers a clean slate.

“Nothing special… Read a couple books, made some lunch… If I’m being honest, I mostly just tried to occupy my mind while I waited to come see you.”

Despite the clear setup for him to be cheeky or smug about it, Spencer’s words only exude comfortable honesty. He doesn’t tell you this to get you blushing or to take advantage of this situation. No, every word is spoken without an ulterior motive at all. Though, his sparkling eyes seem to tell a different story.

“Same,” you confess through a small laugh. “I know I joked about you being my new best friend at the bar, but these days it really does feel like it.”

“So you do remember that day…”

“Most of it, yeah. Kind of embarrassed about that to be honest…”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, only hums consideringly as he squeezes your hand. The small gesture suddenly reminds you of his physical presence, and a rush of warmth pulses at your fingertips.

“Truthfully, I am, too.”

This takes you by surprise. “How?”

He seems to regret saying anything, a quick flash of panic in his eyes before he sighs and squeezes your hand again. “Knowing it was my son who did that to you, and not understanding why… You have no idea how much I… I hate that I can’t figure it out.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s not your responsibility… I guess that’s mostly why I’m embarrassed about the whole thing. You shouldn’t have to fix something that you didn’t break.”

“Didn’t I, though? In one way or another?”

The intense emotion swirling in his eyes takes over you like a tidal wave, and suddenly you’re heartbroken for another reason entirely.

“Don’t get all philosophical on me over this,” you say firmly, squeezing his hand back. “Cameron made that decision, not you. You’re not him.”

“But he’s part of me.”

“So? You didn’t break my heart, he did. And I don’t care what you have to say about that. You are a good man and a good father, and you shouldn’t doubt that.”

You aren’t sure what you expected as a response, but it surely wasn’t the bitter laugh that tumbles from his lips.

“What?” you ask sharply in desperation, grabbing his other hand and practically begging him to listen to you. “What’s so funny?”

Spencer sighs, pulling you flush to his body and taking your breath away in one second flat.

“I doubt those things every damn second I’m with you…”

Not only is your breath gone, but now the ability to think has gone with it. All you know is Spencer. His eyes are pulling you in and daring you to look away. His hands are sliding up the expanse of your arms, and chills erupt in their wake. The world around you has faded to a nothingness that isn’t even scary. It’s just forgotten. Irrelevant.

The only thing that feels natural is the way you tilt your head to brush your lips over his. Just lightly, barely even a touch at all. Still, the intimate contact shocks you at first, bringing you to life in a way you hadn’t thought possible. Slowly, you lean into it, and he does, too. With each second that passes, this one press of your lips against his becomes stronger, the two of you drawing more and more near until it’s all there is.

And then, when his mouth parts, inviting you deeper, it’s like he swallows you whole. Your body melts into his as he welcomes you into his entire world, hugging and kissing you at the same time. Behind closed lids, your eyes flutter to the back of your head, a soft whine escaping your throat and feeding Spencer’s desire until it becomes heavy.

A slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue into your mouth and the sudden press of his erection to your thigh is what jolts a sense of reality into you, and as much as your body is screaming at you to indulge, you know there will, in fact, be consequences.

You pull yourself away from him, just enough to disconnect your lips and remove yourself from the world of lust he’s opened for you. Still, his arms embrace you, loose and comforting and ready to conform to however you see fit.

Spencer stares at you, waiting, studying your kissed-out, panting lips and the panic settling in your eyes as the reality of the situation catches up with you.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp, still clutching onto his shirt and then letting it go to smooth it out. “I… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

When you meet his eyes again, they haven’t changed. A vibrant chill runs through you again, but you’re still cognisant— Still worried about how fucked it is that you’ve just made out with your ex-boyfriend’s father. Still praying to whoever or whatever is listening that you didn’t just ruin this beautiful friendship you’ve started to form—the one thing that was beginning to pull you out of the darkest period of your life thus far.

You’re scared, you realize, as you stare into Spencer’s eyes, charged, unresolved need hanging thickly in the atmosphere around you. 

You’re terrified, and yet something urges you forward.

Whether it’s insanity or stupidity or desperation to feel something, you don’t know, but the way he practically catches you and welcomes you back without stumbling is satisfying enough to quell the need for answers.

Besides, his lips are the only answer you want, frankly.

You lunge and kiss him with a fervor that makes you question everything about your previous relationship and this new bond you’ve started to form with Spencer after the fact, but only for half a second before his own fervor only rivals it. In fact, the way his mouth possesses yours—coaxing your submission from you with just a few meticulous strokes of the tongue—has you wondering if perhaps he’s going through a similar dilemma.

How long has he wanted this? Has he dreamt of it? He sure as fuck kisses you like he has, but how much of that is truth and how much is merely a product of your unspoken, deep-seeded desire to get Cameron back for what he did to you?

And would he actually be willing to offer you that satisfaction, if you asked?

Perhaps you’ll ask him these things another time, but at the moment, your brain is more than ready to grow numb at the mercy of Spencer’s kisses.

[blairxbear]

Do you think you could write an Aizawa x fem reader who is a new teacher and her quirk is having cat like qualities like night vision, sharper nails, quiet walking, excellent balance etc. and she also has cat ears and a tail?

(If she can have an “orange cat” personality as well that would be wonderful. If not I understand and I’m sorry,I’m not sure if I did this correctly I’m still trying to figure out how to word things correctly)

A/N: Hi Lovely! No problem at all, I hope you like it!! I wasn't sure if you wanted it in a romantic context or not but it did end up going that way, if you don't like that though let me know and I can make changes :)

The Stray That Stole His Heart

Shota Aizawa had always been a man of patience.

A man of routine, discipline, and quiet solitude.

So naturally, when Nezu had announced a new hire at U.A., he had assumed nothing would change.

But then you arrived.

And Aizawa quickly realized that nothing would ever be the same again.

The first time Aizawa met you, it was during the faculty meeting, and he immediately knew two things:

You had cat ears and a tail, which made an impression on everyone in the room.

You were completely unpredictable.

It wasn’t just your quirk—which, admittedly, was impressive. Enhanced agility, night vision, sharp reflexes, and an uncanny ability to move so quietly that even he—someone who had trained himself to be hyper-aware—could barely hear you coming.

No, it was your personality that truly caught him off guard.

You were chaotic, to say the least.

Unfiltered, playful, mischievous—with a penchant for getting into trouble just for the fun of it.

An orange cat in human form.

And it drove him insane.

But what was worse?

It also fascinated him.

From the very first week, you had made it your personal mission to test his limits.

You frequently showed up late to meetings, claiming you got “distracted by something shiny.”

You napped in the most inconvenient places—on top of file cabinets, across the teachers’ lounge couch, even once on top of Aizawa’s desk (which had earned you the deadliest glare of his life).

You stole his coffee. Regularly.

You pounced onto his shoulders from above, just to “see if his reaction time was as fast as everyone said.”

(It was. But he still nearly had a heart attack that day.)

And yet—

Despite your absolute disregard for personal space and normal social conventions, you were a damn good teacher.

Your students adored you, your battle tactics were sharp and effective, and you had a natural talent for handling even the most rowdy kids (cough Bakugo cough).

And somehow—despite all your antics—Aizawa found himself growing used to your presence.

To the way your ears twitched when you were listening intently. To the way your tail flicked when you were irritated. To the way you always tried to get a reaction out of him, even when he refused to give you the satisfaction.

And then, one day—

He realized he had a problem.

Because he liked it.

It was late one evening, long after most of the staff had gone home.

Aizawa had been grading papers, exhaustion creeping into his bones, when he heard the softest footfalls outside his office.

No one else would have noticed them.

But Aizawa knew exactly who it was before you even poked your head inside.

“Still working?” you mused, stepping in without an invitation, tail swaying lazily behind you.

Aizawa sighed. “Obviously.”

You hummed, moving closer, perching yourself on the edge of his desk—a habit he had long given up trying to correct.

“You know,” you mused, eyes glinting in the dim light, “you’re always telling me I should take my job more seriously. But when was the last time you actually took a break?”

Aizawa didn’t respond.

Because the answer was too damn long ago.

Your lips curled slightly, as if you could read his thoughts.

Then—before he could react—you reached out, plucked his red pen from his hand, and tossed it across the room.

Aizawa stared at you.

“…Did you just—”

“Yep.”

“…Why?”

“Because you’re done for the night.”

His eye twitched. “I still have work to do.”

“Nope.” You grinned, tail flicking playfully. “Work is done. I have officially declared it.”

Aizawa exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have time for your games, Y/N.”

But you weren’t backing down.

Instead, you tilted your head, ears twitching slightly, and for the first time since you had met, your voice was softer.

“I mean it, Shota,” you murmured. “You do too much. Just… take a break. Just this once.”

Something in his chest tightened.

Because no one ever told him to slow down.

No one ever took the time to worry about him.

But you?

You had been paying attention this whole time.

And that was the moment he knew.

That he was completely and utterly doomed.

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[cheol-e-kat]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐜.𝐬𝐜

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader

summary: y/n’s ex has never fully left her life. but then again how could he when they’re both attorneys at top firms and constantly in opposition.

when they’re finally on the same side, can they let the past go to make a path for the future?

word count (teaser): 700

genre: exes to lovers, rivals, slice of life, attorney au, attorney!seungcheol, attorney!reader, there’s only one bed, idiots in love, *smut

warnings for teaser: none

a/n: lol if you guess my job - anywayyyy, i feel like this is more than the one shot i was imagining, so if you want to be tagged, leave a comment or use my tag list ^^ thanks to everyone for reading, kisses

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

master list & tag list

Y/n had known Seungcheol for longer than she liked to admit, and in most instances, he was simply a thorn in her side. She represented people harmed by a company, and he was across the aisle, protecting the company who was completely responsible. 

Even if she was representing a company that had been harmed, their firms were never on the same side, therefore, they were never on the same side. And it didn’t help that they were painfully competitive, even as professionals. They ran against one another for board positions. 

And then there was who could write the most articles in their “spare” time. So far y/n was winning that one with two more publications than Seungcheol. Even if it meant not sleeping - she had more publications next to her name in the alumni publication for the last year. But he was always nipping at her heels. 

But then ‘it’ had happened. 

They had had one case where their firms were on the same side, meaning they were both stuck in some shit hole jurisdiction for weeks on end, with very little to distract them. Not to mention that they were both in the same hotel, which wasn’t shocking given there were two hotels in the whole place and they were booked out with attorneys, journalists, and experts. 

The ‘it’, though, was Seungcheol somehow ending up without a hotel room. Which, if what y/n had happened to hear in the elevator was true, there was some asshole at seungcheol’s firm who was looking to make his life miserable. 

Y/n didn’t love that - ruining Seungcheol’s life was her job. 

She still had his number from when they had first met in college, when they might have been something - she texted him.

[Y/n]

Need a room?

She had waited for him to ask who was texting. She assumed he had deleted her number.

[Cheollie]

How do you know about that?

She rolled her eyes.

[Y/n]

Is that really the important thing?

[Cheollie]

You magically have a room?

[Y/n]

It’s an offer to share but I would suggest you don’t bunk with whatever his name is - the blonde with horrifying bowties - he might actually hate you

She had watched dots - and dots - and then they died away.

[Cheollie]

What room?

જ⁀➴

She had opened the door when he knocked. He looked just exhausted enough to have accepted without too much pressure, which she thought was maybe actually good for him since he, realistically, had no other choice.

She had let him in, glad that she had sprung for the largest room she could. It meant there was a bed and a small sofa, which she imagined Seungcheol could fit on, admittedly, with problems, but that wasn’t her concern.

“Bad flight?” she asked.

He flopped on the tiny sofa, “Fucking shit flight and a four hour layover with no restaurants,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry,” she patted his head as she went to get ready for bed in the bathroom. 

When she came out, she noticed that he was already asleep and looking especially too large for the sofa he had taken without even asking her.

She felt a little bad, but not enough to wake him up. His flight sounded awful - why not let him sleep, she thought to herself. 

She sat up, looking through some files, until she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. She decided it was time for bed, which was just in time for Seungcheol to roll off the tiny sofa, landing with a soft thunk. 

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. She watched him sit up, eyes barely open, and his rumpled hair. ‘Cute,’ that was what she immediately thought - how cute he looked. It was the one consistent thing she always felt about him - he was unquestionably cute.  

“Seungcheol,” she saw him glance at her, “just come here.” She patted the empty half of the bed next to her. 

She knew she didn’t sound the appropriate level of exasperated, but she didn’t really care. It wouldn’t be the first time they had shared a bed. 

She was glad that he didn’t argue - he just flopped in the bed the way she remembered. But when she woke up to realize their limbs were tangled and his arm was around her waist, she stared into space, trying to decide if she would elbow him or not. But her thoughts were interrupted. 

“Y/n,” his voice was so soft and close. 

She didn’t move - she wasn’t sure what would happen next. But he just moved closer, his breath warm at the nape of her neck.

“Missed you,” he mumbled.

a/n: i actually started this fic like a month ago, and idk the new hugo boss photo is way too perfect for this banner skskss he’s such a mood

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

♡ my [master list] if you want to read more

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here] - if you want to be tagged in this fic you can leave a comment or the tag list form

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 ^^

angst - [ a ] || fluff - [ f ] || smut - [ s ]

teasers: all but break your heart |୨୧| tonight tonight

drabbles: co-worker & spanking [ s ] |୨୧| gamer boy [ s ] |୨୧| professor one [ s ] | valentine's day [ f ] #kat_drabbles

fluff: profound, not sudden [ f ]

smut: see bingo series above and random slutty thoughts collection

series: obvious affection [ pt. 1 f ] [ pt. 2 f & s ] |୨୧| 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇. 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 f & s ] [ pt. 3 f & s ]

seungcheol bingo [warning all smut]: knotting + marking | professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) | monster | spanking (neighbor seungcheol) | big dick + hate sex | forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) | voyeurism + punishment | coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (never let you go pt. 1) | bodyguard + drunk confession | anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing | big dick!cheol + hate sex (choose your own adventure) | sexual frustration + ex sex |

omegaverse (a/b/o): alpha seungcheol [pt. 1 s] [pt. 2 s] || never let you go [master list] [part 1 f & s] [part 2 f ] ||

[ taglist ]

☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎ @nanabananananabatman ☁︎

☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎ @thepoopdokyeomtouched [e - multi/priv] ☁︎

☁︎ @liaaya-17 [c.sc - multi] ☁︎

[meolia]

. *. ⋆ twisted wonderland: how dateable are they? (heartslabyul ver.)

a/n: so. back in 2022/2023 i vaguely remember doing this on an old blog i had and i thought, since im obsessed with this game again i should redo it with newfound knowledge el oh el / oh and feel free to debate me on this i just need people to talk to 💔 . also i apologize that the cons have more words than the pros because i have a lot to say about them BYEHEYE

cw: profanity, troubled teenage boys, no sugarcoating, involves content from the vignettes, main story & events from the eng server, involves SOME headcanons.

1 (extremely undateable), 10 (extremely dateable); im also kind of biased but i swear to remain neutral💔💔💔

SAVANACLAW | other parts tba.

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts

PROS: hardworking, determined and adaptable. we've seen this guy study so hard ever since he popped out of the womb and it resulting in him coming out on top, and he could've easily skipped a few grades because of how smart he is academically and magically. he's also able to remain coolheaded in stressful situations, oftentimes coming up with (usually) rational solutions. he's also really cute when it comes to cakes/tarts. he'd get mad on your behalf, he'd also be kinder towards you, he'd offer to tutor you on subjects you don't understand and tries to be patient, just for you. chronically offline (thats a good thing yes)

CONS: well. first, he's got some serious anger issues he needs to work on; it's not his fault per se, but with how unpredictable the bursts of angers are will probably be tiring. he takes offense to a lot of things and admittedly, he's better post OB but he's still got a long way to go. second, his obsession with the queen of hearts' rules are INsane. there's been instances where he expects outsiders that aren't even in heartslabyul to abide by her rules which is,,, haha lol ermmmmm. he'd probably expect you to do the same. just because youre his partner doesn't mean he'd let you go scot-free if you break any one of them...! again, he's better post OB but still. third, his mother and overall tense family relationship. he's probably this way because of his mother's influence and insane expectations of him, so it won't be very surprising if his mother has a LOT of opinions on you. lastly, he lacks joy and whimsy. he literally never watches movies or play games etc., deeming them unnecessary which is insane????????? HOLY crap im surprised hes still intact

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10 — he would make a decent boyfriend. me personally i probably wouldnt date him people like him stress me out but each to their own! he needs to sort himself out before even thinking of dating though

Trey Clover

PROS: he's very big brother like, the kind that's reassuring and makes you feel safe whenever he's near. he rarely gets mad, and if he does, he wouldn't resort to yelling or act irrational. mature, maybe overly so for a guy his age and surrounded by the people he's around, but that's a plus for him. CAN COOK AND CAN BAKE. his family owns a bakery too so you'd probably get discounts because you're dating him. also, his love language is probably acts of service so you can probably expect him to carry most of your stuff, help you with organizing spaces etc. gives in easily... could be both a pro and con. soft-spoken teeheeHEE... he didn't make it into the top 30 of male characters japanese women want to date for no reason.

CONS: that god awful fucking obsession he has with cleaning teeth. OH my god the way he was all like "im the only normal one here omfgggg" during twisted halloween part 2 and then when sebek mentions that his father is a dentist he immediately starts smiling WIDELY and kept pressing him for more info about his dad's dental work like that scene of shrek signing a contract by that little man. whenever he mentions "brushing your teeth" it's going to sound like a threat even when he doesn't mean it that way. going back to gives in easily; it'll become a problem because you know damn well he'd go "umm... nevermind" very often.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 8/10. deducted two points because im genuinely terrified of his cleaning teeth HOBBY. otherwise id say he'd make a really sweet boyfriend. would date, probably.

Cater Diamond

PROS: he's chill, laid-back and easygoing (are there any differences between those three words im sobbing). he plays mediator during tense situations, and he offers peaceful resolutions (most of the time). perceptive, and he's got some nice intuitions. his psychic abilities are cray craaay... I just stared at what I typed for a full minute. I'm never doing that EVER again. he's usually optimistic, and he's also really cheerful so if you like some rainbows in your life, he's your guy. i KNOW he's good at photography since he posts on magicam so much & probably has a decent following. he would take the most godly pictures of you if you wanted. i think he'd break his back and knees to get that angle for you.

CONS: The way he incorporates hashtags in almost every single conversation will kill me. youd be talking about something horrid that happened to you that day and he'd say some shit like "oh no! that's hashtag #diabolical!" (double hashtags since the game does that... ik they dont mean it like that but i just feel like that'd be funny). apparently has a death glare so terrifying it'd kill a man on the spot? you'd either be wetting your pants or be more attracted to him. either way, if you guys ever get into a heated argument and he pulls that out umm bless you i think? and he maybe posts on magicam. too much. it'd be something insignificant and not very worth journalling but he'd take a picture anyways and post it online with some long stupid hashtags like #DelightfulFurry #HotPinkBangin #OneWithTheCrowd with an image of heartslabyul freshmen wearing pink and feeding the flamingoes. but i guess that's part of his charm...?

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10. he's handsome and he's a cool guy but the way he talks in hashtags and how he lives on magicam will be a big fat turnoff for me. if you like it, good for you! cay-cay would make me decay-cay!

Ace Trappola

PROS: he'd get mad on your behalf (see to when he punched riddle in the face because he insulted mc). cares for you even if he doesn't admit it outwardly, but will do stuff in the background to help you, even if just a little bit like that time in the halloween event where he and deuce personally went to ask the ghosts to make a costume for mc and grim so they wouldn't have to miss out. playful, there wouldn't be a day that's boring when with him.

CONS: got an extremely loose tongue that got him into trouble loads of times. can't really shut up which is very bad...! he sometimes doesn't think before speaking so ahaha. SO irresponsible sometimes he can fight grim on that. remember when he ran from his punishment at the start of the game? yeah. also is really embarrassing sometimes i have to turn my phone off to ponder about life whenever he says some stupid crap that WILL come back and bite him in the ass later on. also will probably get bored of you? like that one time he ghosted his middle school girlfriend because he doesn't wanna do it anymore... eeeeyikes.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 6/10. the honeymoon phase will be the best, and the rest you just gotta hope he doesn't pull an average teenage boy.

Deuce Spade

PROS: so so so extremely sweet. is willing to do almost anything to make it up to you if he ever wronged you. is willing to change, like how he decided to try and become a model student because he saw his mom crying about him being a delinquent, so if he has any flaws/bad habits that make you uncomfortable he'd try to be better. brave, like stupidly so. was ready to fight malleus in malleus's sr lab coat vignette even if it meant he'd die LMFAOOO. he's also someone who'd get mad on your behalf, but even more than ace. dude WILL get into a brawl with ten people for you. passionate. he'd also be so gentle and kind towards you like how he treats mc in game, never raising his voice at you and if he inadvertently does it he'd apologize immediately. his determination is amazing too. his love for eggs is also really cute... sorry im just rambling now i just really love him bye

CONS: oblivious and very gullible. there's been SO many times where he agrees too fast or just believed everything without a fact check. like in glorious masquerade where azul was talking to him about taking his UM he just went "okay!" without asking why. would probably get into a lot of unneeded trouble for this fact alone.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 10/10. this is a bias on my part but he'd make the sweetest and most amazing boyfriend EVER. he's trying!!! he really is!!! i think he's charmingly idiotic gahahahha hhahaa

HEARTSLABYUL MOST DATEABLE TO LEAST DATEABLE:

DEUCE > TREY > CATER > RIDDLE > ACE

[perfctvelvet]

hiiii

Can I request some Taylor Swift x reader strap-on action?? <3

Melting Point; Taylor Swift/Fem!Reader

Content: 2nd POV. Former lovers, slight angst, jealousy, infidelity, teasing, brief oral sex, tribing, strap-on sex.

If there was one thing Taylor wanted most it was to look like she wasn't bothered by whoever was on your arm tonight.

You two agreed that having mutual friends wouldn't be a problem at all, that you are both "mature" and can "handle" being around each other after your almost-relationship fell apart. Taylor walked around as if nothing about what was happening could phase her, but she was lying to herself. She would look at your post and watch your instagram stories over and over again, looking to catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar silhouette. The healthier thing to do would be to not go looking at all, but she did. She looked and every time she saw something she didn't like she felt a weird thump in her chest. She carried around that jealousy for days and eventually forgot about it; until it was time for her to hurt herself again.

To be her and this pathetic was embarrassing. It makes her feel low and when she's in a low place she acts out. She had raised her skirt to be a few inches shorter and pulled down her top. There wasn't any guarantee that you were going to budge or want her back. She was the one who had ended things, so you were well within your rights to do what you want, but she was in one of those moods where she wanted fuck everything up.

She had been eyeing you and whoever that is with you all night until she walked away leaving you alone by yourself. Taylor was bold to walk across that room and place herself right in front of you. You had no choice but to accept her presence, after all you two had agreed that you can be around each other without any problems

"Y/n! Hey!"

Taylor gets close as if the music is too loud for you to hear. You looked surprised to see her, which she liked because it means she has the upperhand.

"Hey, Tay! I didn't know you were coming. Syd didn't tell me you were coming."

Tay

A nickname many people called her, but it sounded so different coming from your mouth. The single syllable always came out of your mouth so soft and sweet and reminded her of moments when you two were alone, together.

"You know I always come to anything Sydney throws." Not exactly the truth, but you weren't going to challenge her on it which is exactly why she said it.

Taylor thought about playing nice and coy tonight, but she got straight to the point.

"So, who did you come with tonight?"

Your eyes go wide and you try to stumble through getting a sentence out. You were allowed to do what you want, but you feel like you've been caught.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, c'mon. I'm not dumb Y/n. I saw that girl you were with. Is she your girlfriend?"

You look away unable to answer because she got you. You didn't know how to answer. You were just seeing that girl in the same way you were just seeing Taylor before her, but admittedly it wasn't the same. Everything was so fun with Taylor, electrifying, and you feared that you would be searching for that with everyone you tried to date after her.

"Is that why you watch my stories? To see who I'm with?"

"Well, is she the shadow I see?"

Taylor always had the upper hand whether it be her getting the last word or making your heart beat uncontrollably. No matter how hard you tried to move on, you wanted her so bad. You two wanted things to work out but there was an underlying feeling that you two specific people would never be able to work in the way you want it to. But sex didn't require further thought on the status of one's relationship.

"Taylor. Are you really going to do this to me?"

The look in your eyes, the sound of your voice; she's got you. She keeps the shit eating grin off of her face, but she's beaming on the inside when you silently agree to ditch her date and go back to Taylor's place that was blocks away.

'You always know how to get someone into trouble while keeping your hands clean.'

You had told her that just a few weeks after knowing her. On your second day of meeting each other you were pinned to a wall with her hands down your pants. She rubbed you in the most magical way and made you cum in record time. You were embarrassed sometimes by how bad you wanted her; it offsets her embarrassing tactics to get her way.

What you missed most about Taylor was how she kissed you. She grabs your head in the most possessive way as if you would dare move away from her. She always kissed you hurriedly like you would you disappear within seconds. You found the overwhelming desperation to be endearing somehow. Her name and status left you a little enamored with her, but seeing her stripped down into her rawest form, a ball of need and desire, made you see right through her. It seemed like she needed this more than you, something that you enjoyed even though it would be a little wrong to admit out loud.

"I missed the way you taste," Taylor moans between kisses. She meant more than just the way your lips taste. She wanted to kiss and lick your skin, and to taste the sweetness between your legs. She was dominant when she got like this and you let her takeover pleasuring your body.

Taylor peppered your neck with kisses before grazing the skin with her teeth. You inhale sharply and suck your stomach in. You don't exhale until she pulls your top down to reveal your tits. 'Of course' she thinks to herself; you weren't wearing a bra tonight. The idea of you anticipating running into her excited her. She needed you to want her just as much as she wanted you.

"I want to make you cum so bad," she confesses. You spread your legs without even thinking, wanting the same thing as her.

She sucks one nipple for a few seconds before licking the skin between your tits. You bite your lip and moan in pleasure. You feel your body sinking into the softness of her bed as she moves lower. She loves that you wore a short dress that gives her better access. She pushes it up to reveal your black, lacy panties. She can vaguely see your pussy through the material, but she knows that you're wet.

She kisses your pussy through your panties just to be able to watch you lose your mind. You moan loudly for her. The moans get breathier each time she kisses your clit. She licks you once and you can feel her saliva come through the material. Each kiss makes you shake, but what feels the most intimate is when she kisses your inner thigh. She knows just how sensitive your skin gets when you're this turned on. You shiver under her touch. She tweaks your nipple with one hand and rubs her hand up and down your stomach while teasing your pussy.

All she wanted was a little taste, but her hunger was growing. She pushed the fabric to the side and licked your bare cunt.

"Such a pretty pussy," she coos into you.

You throw your head back and cry out for her.

"Fuck Taylor...fuck, fuck, fuck."

Your cries sound better than any melody she could compose, paired with how sweet your pussy taste. She was obsessed, and she doesn't know how she could've ever let this go -- let you go.

'Just a little taste...just a taste'

She has to remind herself of her own pleasuring rumbling inside of her, the pleasure she craved that made her bold enough to ask you to leave your date at the event. Taylor has spent her days just enjoying herself between her legs, proving herself to be an unselfish lover. Today she wouldn't be selfish, but she feels too feral to take her time.

Her skirt comes up to reveal her bare pussy. You wore no bra, she wore no panties, you two were like the last two pieces to complete a puzzle.

You can't help but nearly jump into her arms after you sit up. You wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her. Once again, she grabs your head and kisses you back with intense passion. Her tongue slides into your mouth as she holds you tightly against her body with her arm. One hand comes running down your side and to your ass. She grabs your soft flesh before she pulls at your panties to get them off. The feeling of soft lips crashing against each other and caressing touches made you explode, but your pussy missed her touch. You absentmindedly humped the air but that wasn't satisfying enough.

Taylor knows you well enough to be able to sense your hunger. She pushes you back down onto the bed, your tits jiggle as you fall back. She straddles you, slowly lowering her wet pussy onto you. Feeling the mix of your juices makes you melt and moan. She grabs onto your leg for leverage and begins to hump your pussy. She kisses the tense muscles in your calf before she begins to moan herself.

"Fuck your pussy feels so good!" She cries out.

Taylor began to move her hips so fast that the sound of your skin slapping together sounded like all the times one of you have fucked each other from behind with a strap-on. You could feel the mess created by the two of you seeping on to your thighs. You loved how messy and sticky you two got when you rubbed your pussies together. You were hooked on the rhythm she set; steady, but not too slow.

She loved watching you beneath her. The sight of your tits moving with each thrust and how you threw your head back in pleasure. Your pleasure was at her mercy and she loved it. Your tits moved faster and your body jerked when she picked up the speed. Taylor could feel the pleasure deep in her stomach and it was ready to make its appearance. She was moaning almost as loud as you are.

"Fuck...you're going to make me cum!"

"Taylor!"

Every cry that was plucked from your throat made her weaker and weaker for you. Your eyes were shut tight and your head moved from side to side in the throes of pleasure. You looked so beautiful, and she loved watching you. It made her cum hard against your sweet pussy. Every inch of you turned her on so much.

You feel her gush against your sex and a few seconds later her contagious pleasure makes you cum too. Your fingers dig into the skin on her hips ensuring that you will leave a mark there. Taylor wasn't the only one obsessed because the rush of endorphins almost made 'I love you' slip past her lips. You had enough sense not to let lust cloud your judgment and you just moaned her name instead.

"I can't get enough of you," she whispers against your skin. You can see it in her eyes and feel it in her touch that she's not done.

"I wanna fuck you Taylor."

"You just did," she laughs breathlessly.

"No, I want to fuck you."

She now understands what you are insinuating.

"I want to fuck you, Y/n."

Taylor missed the way you reacted when she filled you inch by inch. She'd slowly watch your brain melt into a puddle as the stretch set little fires off inside of you. And the sounds of your body meeting together in desire always filled the room. You two got a little taste of it early when you rubbed pussies.

You mull over which you would enjoy more, fucking her or her fucking you? Your orgasm was so good, but left you wanting more. You see the look in Taylor's eyes you and know she's going to be adamant about wanting to fuck you, so you let her. She uses the strap you always loved and lines it up with your sopping entrance. You hold your breath as you watch her slide in. It's been so long since you've been split open like this, you could cry tears of joy.

"Oh god...don't stop!" You're already whining for her and she's barely gotten started.

"What happened to your manners?"

She pushes into you painfully slow until the tip hits the soft, spongy sweet spot inside of you. She pulls out just as slowly too, teasing you to death.

"Please! Please, Taylor, I need you so bad!"

You couldn't even hold an ounce of shame in your body if you tried to. It felt way too good. And you let her know that by moaning loudly with each thrust she was kind enough to give you. Taylor couldn't stay at that slow pace forever, she was desperate to fuck you open. She began to pound into you, her strap bullying your poor pussy every time. Feeling you cling to her was better than anything else in the world. You needed her to keep filling you up so bad and she wouldn't dare stop until you were cumming all over her strap.

"You missed this, didn't you?"

You turn your head to the side to avoid her gaze. You couldn't speak, but your moaning spoke for you. Of course you missed this. You had a chemistry with Taylor that felt rare to find. The girl you've been seeing for the last few weeks...she was kind, but she wasn't Taylor -- she wasn't what you needed.

Taylor played with your tits while fucking you. They moved in an almost hypnotic way that she couldn't take her eyes off of them. She loved how they would harden instantly in her mouth whenever she sucked on them. She loved how wet she could make you just from caressing them.

"I'm gonna cum!"

Taylor thinks to herself, 'already?'

You had came not even more than 10 minutes ago, but your pussy was so sensitive that it couldn't withstand much more. Your walls tightened around her strap, and one more poke at your g-spot and you were cumming all around the rubber toy. You mewled and arched your back like into the air. Your body went stiff as you somehow came harder than before. Pure waves of pleasure washed over you and cleared away all of your reservations about Taylor and where you two stand. When you came down from your high, your mind was spotless.

The two of you were often able to multiple last rounds with each other, but tonight felt different. You just wanted to lay there with her, limbs tangled together, and she wanted the same thing. The stillness of her bedroom brought her closer to sleep. Until you speak up.

"No."

"No, what?"

"She isn't my girlfriend."

Despite physically having you for the night, the answer to her question satisfied Taylor more than anything.

[booty-uprooter]

some tips on how to make bosses easier if youre feeling theyre too hard:

play a ranged physical dps class. that way you can hang back to keep an eye on the arena and what the boss is doing without having to worry about needing to stand still long enough to complete an induction

on that note, inductions are considered finished before the bar is full. you can usually move right before it fills and still have it go off, but it takes some trial and error to figure out how close you can cut it

move your ui around. my own life was made immeasurably easier when i put the target right above my hotbar so i wouldnt have to pay attention to both the top and bottom of the screen at the same time, but try stuff out and see what works best for you

the best time to mitigate an attack is right before the boss finishes casting it. the second best time is as soon as the mit becomes available, every time it becomes available

use addle and feint. you almost never see these used in casual content and it's a waste because they really are extremely useful skills at any level

use arm's length and surecast. there are some knockbacks they dont work on but those are rare. if you know youre gonna get pushed, use these and you probably won't get pushed

take advantage of duty support. the npcs know the mechanics. watch them and let them teach you

particle effects cant hurt you (usually). with the exception of puddles that stay on the ground for a while or layered stacks like akh morn, as long as youre not standing on the marker when it disappears (or are if it's a stack), you're in the clear. feel free to move through the animation if necessary. more and more mechanics require you to do so to be in position for the next one in time

it's usually fine to let spread markers overlap. just, yknow, make sure another person isnt in yours (though its the responsibility of anyone without a spread to keep themselves out of harms way)

when in doubt, ask your party members. it's extremely rare to match with a group of randos and have everyone be a first-timer. most players are happy to help, and the ones that know the mechanics but are bad at explaining them will usually just stick a marker on themselves (usually a triangle) for you to follow

read your tool tips. boss fights are as much a test of how well you know your class as they are your ability to read and react to mechanics. unless youre playing a healer or paladin, youre going to use your entire kit, so make sure you know what everything does

on that note, freecure is a scam. once you get cure ii/benefic ii, you will never need cure or benefic again. keep them on your hotbar for when you get synced content if you wish, but otherwise you do not need them. do not use them

if you play multiple classes, try to keep skills that do the same/similar things at the same spot on your hotbar. this isn't always possible bc despite what some may claim, not all classes of the same type are actually identical, but it will save you a lot of headaches

entirely new and unique mechanics are rare to the point of being nigh nonexistent. everything is a remix of something else and practicing in lower level content can actually be a big help

look up guides. the internet is full of them in pretty much whatever form works best for you (though they can be of admittedly variable quality)

turn down party effects. theyre on one of the tabs under character configuration > controls. if you put them on minimum you can still see heals and such but you wont have your screen constantly full of explosions

turn on target health percentage. this one is under character configuration > ui. it lets you better see how close the boss is to going down

make summons smaller. we all love titan's ass but not when it's the only thing you can see. "/petsize all small" will make this problem go away

relax and have fun. panicking leads to mistakes, which can lead to worse mistakes. if you need to take a second to breathe, do so. your party members probably wont mind waiting a minute or two between pulls

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part seven

Everything is beginning to unravel 🫣

Warnings: just the usual angst and their bickering! Hotch being...nice? and Reader panicking (but not a full panic attack)

True to Strauss’s words, a new case comes in the next day. You’re admittedly a little more excited than you should be a new serial killer, but you’re tired of so many days in the office. If you’re away on a case, you can’t be called to go speak to Richard Monroe, and Hotch can’t corner you with his suspicions and wild conclusions.

Unfortunately, it does mean that you’ll be forced to interact with Hotch more often. Albeit in conversations focused on the case, but. Everyone has seen how well that goes over for the two of you. 

So, imagine your surprise when you board the jet and see every seat is taken, except the one to Hotch’s right.

Now, you could sit somewhere else, but that would mean sitting so far away from the rest of the team that it would look ridiculous. Your only real, responsible, professional option is to sit next to Hotch.

So, fine. You can be a professional. If Hotch has a problem with it, that’s his fault.

You settle into the seat beside Hotch with a slight huff. At least you’re across from Prentiss and JJ. Across the aisle, Reid sits cross legged on the couch, Morgan lounges in a chair, and Rossi sits with a smug smile hiding behind his palm.

Bastard. He probably put everyone up to this, leaving an empty seat beside Hotch.

Fine.

You clear your throat against the silence as you listen to the pilot start the engines. No one is saying anything, so you join Hotch in opening a case file and rereading over some details.

It’s a fairly run of the mill case, except it isn’t, because this is the BAU, and you guys don’t get the normal serial killers.

The Mobile Police Department found the body of Melissa Johnson on a dirt road outside town. Next to remains of another woman who they have yet to identify. 

Two weeks ago, the same story, one county over. 

A week before that, the same story, one state over, in the De Soto National Forest in Mississippi. Those two women were the worst — if there can even be a competition. 

Each of the women were strangled to death, but not by a belt, wire, or anything you normally see. It was with the unsub’s bare hands. 

Warning bells go off in your head as you take everything in. The strangulation, the discarding of the bodies like they’re ragdolls, the remote locations, across states, it’s— It’s insane. What it makes you think of. Who it makes you think of.

You inhale sharply and close the file, feeling Hotch’s eyes on you. Subject change is needed immediately. 

“Reid, got any new books recently?” you lean your head over to smile at him. 

“No,” he says, and sounds genuinely torn up about it. “I haven’t gone to the secondhand store in a few weeks, though, but I might go when we get back. Do you want to come with me? We should—”

“Reid,” Hotch scolds gently, but the glare he gives you is real. You’re positive then that he’s onto you, and it pisses you off. “What do you see?”

“Six strangled women,” you deadpan, turning your head to look at Hotch. “What do you see?”

His jaw tenses. “A startled agent,” he mutters, quiet enough only for you to hear. “When we touch down in Mobile, Reid, I want you to get started on the board, any connections you can see, I want them up there.”

Reid is already scribbling on his case files, circling words and underlining others. Who knows what he sees, but he’ll elaborate when he comes up for air.

“Rossi, take Prentiss and speak with Melissa’s family,” Hotch says. 

Which leaves you, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch. You shift in your seat, accidentally pressing your thigh against Hotch’s. You shift again, this time knocking your knee into his. 

Fuck this tiny ass jet.

You cease your wiggling, knowing it’s only going to egg Hotch on further. But he runs like a furnace and you can feel the heat of him through your clothes. It’s driving you insane.

“JJ, Morgan, help Reid dig through some of the department’s similar files, I’ve told them to have everything pulled for when we get there.”

You resist the urge to grind your teeth together. You drum your fingers on the table, tilting your head at Hotch. “And what are we getting up to today?”

Hotch stares at you tiredly before looking back down at his file where he has it open on pictures of Melissa’s body. “We’re going to where he left the bodies.”

+++

Hotch drives because he always does. The fact that it also means he gets to watch you and all your nervous ticks while you have nothing else to do means nothing. 

You’ve been acting off ever since the jet, ever since you looked at the photos of Melissa’s body and where it was dumped. Your fingers have not once ceased their drumming, and now you’ve added deep breaths every few minutes into the mix.

Hotch can’t recall ever seeing you act this way. 

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, bracing himself for your inevitable anger after what he’s about to ask. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you bite out. Your entire body tenses, all tics coming to a halt. “Why?”

Well, you’re already angry with him — like always. Might as well make it worse. “You seem anxious.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

“Don’t profile me.”

“I don’t have to,” Hotch argues. If they didn’t have somewhere to be, he’d pull over right now and shake your shoulders. “You won’t stop moving.”

“Well, sorry I can’t help being human,” you spit, turning your hand over to pick at your fingernails. “Are you going to tell me I’m breathing too loud next?”

Hotch thinks of your deep breaths. He keeps his mouth shut.

Which, naturally, makes it worse.

“Oh my god,” you scoff. “You’re the one who decided we should go on this merry little drive to look at where he dumped their bodies.”

“I divide up the tasks for every case—”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to pick me,” you protest. “You could’ve taken Prentiss with you. But no, you just had to choose me so we could yell at each other for half an hour.”

Hotch takes his own deep inhale, slowing down when he sees the other police cars up ahead. 

He waits until he pulls off the road to say, “I chose you because you saw something in those photos. You don’t have to tell me what you saw right now, but when it’s relevant, I’d appreciate it if you share. Could be helpful. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for your reply before stepping out of the car, though he does catch your shocked expression before you can hide it.

You recover well, following Hotch to meet the officers, your badge clipped to your hip opposite your gun. Hotch wrenches his eyes away from said hips with more difficulty than he will ever admit to.

“Deputy Harris,” the man introduces himself with a firm handshake.

“Agent Hotchner, we spoke on the phone.” Hotch decides to save everyone the grief and let you introduce yourself.

“Agent L/N, nice to meet you,” you put on a smile and offer an equally firm handshake, proving you’re not someone to mess with in the field, lest any officers get any ideas. “Where did you find them?”

“Right this way,” Deputy Harris gestures down the dirt road that might as well be an overgrown path. “There’s a fishing hole just at the end of it. Denis was driving to it when he saw them.”

You start walking down the path, toward the yellow markers. “Is it a private fishing hole?”

“Not necessarily,” Harris shrugs. “If you know Denis, you can fish there. If you don’t, well.”

“Gotcha,” you nod. “And we can trust Denis?”

Your lighthearted tone shocks Hotch, but it gets a chuckle out of the deputy. “Considering he’s back that way with one of my officers still puking his guts out, yeah, I’d say so.”

“Got it,” you let out a laugh. “He’ll be alright.”

Hotch watches you as you walk ahead with the deputy, and he’s even more shocked by the slight accent coming through your words.

The deputy gives you a pleased smile. “You from around here?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, casting a glance in Hotch’s direction. “Further north.”

Hotch’s eyes dart to yours.

“Ah, Birmingham?” the deputy asks.

“No, uh,” you pause, and Hotch waits for you to correct the officer, say you’re from a different state, but you don’t. You avert your eyes to the dirt path ahead. “Huntsville.”

Hotch’s gaze hardens. You and your file told him you were from a different state entirely. One a long way from Huntsville, Alabama.

The file he asked Garcia to retrieve sits in his briefcase back at the hotel — alongside a sticky note written in her famous gel pen that states she does not approve of this kind of snooping. He hasn’t had the time to fully look through it, but he glanced at the first page, including where you’re from, and it did not say Huntsville.

What game are you playing?

“Is this where he dumped them?” you ask, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. The deputy nods.

A few crime scene investigators crawl carefully around the area, taking pictures and notes. The bodies have since been taken away, but they’re still searching for anything they can find. You watch them work from a distance, but Hotch studies you for a moment. 

Something is bothering you about this case.

You ask the standard questions to gain some extra information from the deputy, but it isn’t much. There isn’t much to these murders unfortunately. At least not that they can see right now.

At least not that you’re sharing.

“Well, deputy,” you turn toward him, the sweet southerness still lacing your words and making Hotch’s mouth twitch at the corners. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else. A few of our colleagues have set up back at the precinct.”

Harris nods. “We’ll see you there, then.” He sticks his hand out for another handshake.

You take it in stride. “Best barbeque in town? I'll be a tough judge.”

The deputy laughs heartily. “I don’t doubt that.”

Hotch takes in the area for a moment longer before nodding to the deputy, and then he’s turning on his heel, heading back to the car. The only way he knows you’re following is your stomping footsteps.

He’s going to have a storm waiting for him when he gets in the car, but so will you. 

“Hello?” you shout after him. “Get the creeps or something?”

He slams the car door once he’s inside, waiting for you to do the same. You do.

“Hello?” you repeat, waving your hand in front of his face. “Jesus.” You yank the seatbelt over your body. “Thanks for your help back there. Your questions were so useful.”

Hotch cranks the engine, pulling onto the road to turn around. “Huntsville?” he inquires.

“What?” You rest your head in your hand.

“You’re from Alabama?”

“That is what my birth certificate says,” you deadpan. “Is there an issue with me being born here?”

“No, your—” Hotch stops. What can he say, exactly? If he says that’s not what your file tells him, he’s crossing a line. And you seem…calmer. He doesn’t want to accuse you of lying and set you off before he can get the truth out of you. So, he tries again. “You told me you were from Washington state.”

You shrug. “We moved when I was little. I’m forever split between the two, I guess.”

It’s an uncharacteristic moment of openness between the two of you. Maybe the first ever. Hopefully not the last.

Hotch nods. “Did you like Washington more?”

It takes you a while to answer, and Hotch expects you to poke fun at him, maybe even get angry. But you don’t.

“I did,” you reply, the ghost of a smile crossing your lips. “Did you like where you grew up?”

He lets out a little laugh. “It was okay. My brother and I liked it as much as kids can, I guess.”

“Brother?” you turn to look at him, mischief written all over you. “Let me guess…younger.”

“How’d you know?” Hotch asks, exasperation in his eye roll as he thinks of Sean’s antics.

You hum. “You just seem like an older brother.”

“How so?”

“Pushy,” you blurt immediately.

Hotch scoffs. Looks like the moment of calm was short-lived. “Right.”

“Intelligent,” you add, quietly, looking out the windshield instead. “Protective. You’re used to doing everything yourself and being the boss, steering people around.”

“I am the Unit Chief—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave your hand at him. “But you weren’t when I first met you.”

Hotch opens his mouth to protest, but leaves it alone — for once. He raises one hand off the wheel in surrender. “Alright, fair enough.”

You dial Morgan’s number to give him some updates, but first, “Any ideas for dinner? Got a tip for the best barbeque in town.”

Morgan’s laugh rumbles through the phone, “I love the sound of that.”

+++

Arriving back at the precinct, dinner in hand, you and Hotch are…surprisingly fine. Everyone’s jaw’s practically drop open when you both walk into the precinct in one piece. And on speaking terms.

“Uh…” Morgan takes the drink carrier from you, eyeing you and Hotch carefully. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you say, maybe too quickly. “Fine, why?”

You honestly don’t know what’s come over either of you. You didn’t argue the whole way back. Okay, you didn’t talk either, but you’ll take what you can get. You’re just glad he didn’t use the fact that you couldn’t escape as an excuse to ask questions you can’t answer. The silence was as comfortable as you could hope for, the radio playing at a low volume.

“What have you found?” Hotch asks, looking at Reid. He takes the seat diagonal from you.

“Uh, nothing much so far,” Reid replies regrettably. He reaches for a bag of chips as Morgan steals them away. “The greater cities are all accessible by I-10, but the towns are far off the interstate, so it’s not that relevant. But hey, I was thinking, you know who this is reminding me of?”

Everyone shares a wild look. 

“What, kid?” Morgan says with a laugh. “What does it remind you of?”

Around a mouthful of barbeque, Reid says, “Do you remember Carson Adkins? They called him The Strangler.” Reid raises his eyebrows to his hairline.

Your heart stutters to a complete halt. Your lungs constrict.

Around you, the conversation continues.

Morgan: “From the 80s?”

Prentiss: “Didn’t he strike in Georgia and California?”

JJ: “That’s him.”

Reid: “Rossi, wasn’t that when you were with the BAU?”

Rossi: “Thanks, kid, I appreciate the age-check.”

You’re too busy focusing on controlling your breathing to realize you’ve stopped breathing entirely. And moving. 

“Y/N?” Hotch’s voice breaks through the fog, and you flinch away from the noise, despite a table separating you.

“Fine,” you say automatically, setting your sandwich down. Your eyes scan the crowd of worried faces watching you. “I’m fine. We were talking? About the…” You dust your hands off. “The Strangler?”

“Yes,” Rossi says slowly, finally looking elsewhere. “It took us years to track him down because he went dormant and we couldn’t figure out why or where.”

“Did you ever figure out why?” you ask, your voice sounding unlike any sounds you’ve ever produced.

Rossi’s eyes meet yours briefly before he looks away. “He had a wife and daughter. It’s more common than you think.”

You swallow around whatever rock has made a home in your throat. “But you found him.”

“We did,” Rossi says quietly. “He eventually slipped up. He got sloppy, reckless. What really led us to him was someone he knew kidnapping his daughter. He did everything he could to lead us to her. Even though he knew it meant we’d catch him.”

You nod, wrapping your hand around your cup, trying not to dig your fingertips in. It’s foam, for fuck’s sake, and the last thing you need is to spill Coke all over these files.

“His poor wife and daughter,” JJ sighs. “I hope they’re okay, wherever they are now.”

“Yeah,” Rossi says, eyes flicking to yours just for a fleeting second. “Me too.”

After a beat, Derek says, “Do we think this is a copycat then, or…?”

“I don’t think so,” Reid says. “There’s too many differences for it to be a total copycat, I just meant it reminds me of how he traveled by—”

Your ears start ringing too loud to hear him, but it’s for the better. You don’t need to hear him list the differences and similarities. You know them already. 

You know them because The Strangler was— is your father. And you’re the reason he was caught.

[klemen-tine]

You don’t have to write this, it’s just an idea I wanted to share. (:

Where the reader is someone who closely resembles a lost family member, say brother in their case, who died.

He has the same mannerisms, responds in the same snarky way. He may even physically resemble the lost teen, maybe he has the same coloured eyes, or wears the same boyish clothes. But not too similar, it’s just the way he acts. It’s so similar it’s almost uncanny.

And it’s like something snapped in the family. Like their missing piece was found. But this random kid (turning adult), probably works near where they frequently patrol, or goes to the same school as one of them as a senior, has a family. Admittedly a shitty one as what Gotham family isn’t, but still has one. He has a life, he isn’t their dead brother.

But they don’t care. He’s theirs. He’s being called their brothers name, taken to their manor, forced to live in the dead brothers room. Because the reader is their brother. Whether he likes it or not.

Thanks for reading. If you want to write it that would be awesome, but you’ve already done a request for me so I don’t have a problem if you don’t have any desire write it. Please respond if you think the idea is shitty haha

Puppy

(Yandere Batfam X Male! Reader Platonic)

Warning: Emotional abuse (?), slight suicidal ideation (its like a line)

@jaythes1mp

@Rosecentury 

@problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

When Tim had first seen those E/C eyes, staring into his own blue eyes and very much alive, he had raced back to the manor and checked if the grave had been defiled. He checked, and checked again if the body of their brother had been taken. When the dirt proved not to be disturbed, he raced back to the batcomputer and began researching. 

Y/N L/N, a high school dropout and a worker at one of the nail salons near a cafe the Wayne family frequents, and with two very alive parents had filled all the screens in the Batcave. His school records, no run in with the law, he was simply a kid that had to drop out of school to support his family. 

He is a kid that looks so unfairly like B/N in those clothes he always wore. The family had thought Tim was crazy, obsessing over this budding young adult that Tim had only run into once. 

Then Dick ran into him. Standing in line for his drink, he saw exactly what Tim saw. Intense E/C eyes, meeting his for only a second, before turning around back to his friends. The smile is only slightly different and the laugh an octave lower, but virtually the same. Dick was staring at his dead brother’s doppelganger. 

He had snapped a photo and raced back to home, dying to show the others. From there, two things had begun. The first was an all out investigation on the person known as Y/N, from Cass and Stephanie befriending him at the salon, and the brother’s befriending him outside of his work. Even Bruce began helping and ‘accidentally’ running into Y/N. The more they got to know Y/N, the more it began to soothe the wound that B/N had left when he passed. Physically, they were different besides the eyes. However, everything else was so unfairly like B/N, that if someone told Bruce that B/N was alive and just got plastic surgery and changed his name to Y/N, he would believe them. 

Y/N cracked the same jokes, folded his hands in the same way, and had the same look when listening. Like every word spoken was the gospel and the person speaking deserved to be heard. 

Y/N’s parents, from the deep dive Tim did, could be bribed. Their silence could be bought and compliance forced. Dad had a criminal history, and mom preferred to buy love from gigolos then shower her child in it. It was too easy. Almost insultingly so. 

Which is why when CPS called saying they got a complaint, and that Y/N was to be placed in the foster care of Bruce Wayne, the parents didn’t throw a fit or cry out for their son that was being placed in the back of a black car. 

Bruce could only offer his shoulder as Y/N had sobbed on the new bed, in a new room, in a new place. 

“Th-they’re not bad par-parents! Why would someone call?” Bruce rubbed Y/N’s back comfortingly, listening and saying nothing as Y/N continued to cry, “They-they didn’t even fight for me Bruce. They just watched.” It was a rough transition, but it was made. Y/N had kept to himself for the most part, until around the second week where he started to emerge more from his room and hang around the other kids. 

It would be two months in which Y/N began to notice some things. At first it started with shopping. 

“C’mon, Y/N! It’s your favorite store.” He stared up at the high end fashion stores and he knows that never in his life has he ever been in here. His family was too poor to buy anything outside of a thrift store. 

Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes but played along. He watched the price tally up enough to give him a stroke, and he nearly passed out when Dick simply pulled out a card without batting an eyelash. 

“Y/N, it’s your favorite restaurant!” Y/N hates this type of food. 

“Y/N! I got it in your favorite color.” This is definitely not his favorite color. 

“Y/N, your favorite show is on.” 

“Y/N, your favorite-” 

“Y/N-”

“Y/N-” 

“Y/N-” 

“B/N-” 

“What did you just call me?” Y/N met Damian’s green eyes in bewilderment. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the younger boy, and he glanced around to the paused Tim. It was a genuine question, but the alarm bells began ringing louder than ever. 

Everything slowly falling into place as the actions began to fall into place. 

“It was a mix up in names.” Y/N narrowed his eyes, but let it slide. But then it happened again. And again. And again. It got the point that it was becoming a habit to respond. Y/N caught himself a few times, and he began to wonder if this was some new psychological trick. 

Like calling a puppy by a new name until it responds. Thing thing is, is that it isn’t even a new name. Its the name of their dead brother, B/N. 

Everyone knows how B/N Wayne died. It wasn’t a secret and it became the reason for one of the biggest Grants in Gotham. B/N Wayne had died tragically in a car accident. A driver under the influence had T-boned B/N’s car, causing it to flip and to steer into the side of the bridge. It’s only because its Gotham that the rails didn’t break, but the damage had already been done. B/N Wayne had been pronounced dead on the scene and the driver arrested. Now, the Wayne family funds one of the biggest grants in Gotham, possibly the East Coast, for families who have lost someone to a DUI accident. 

Bruce can remember staring into the cold and bloody face of his son. The skin was pale and looking like wax, and those E/C eyes were forever closed. He held those bruised cheeks within his hands and he cried for the child that will never be an adult. 

Then, a few years later, Y/N L/N shows up out of nowhere with the same eyes and personality. Smiling the same way, laughing the same way, and even having the same mannerisms. Bruce saw his son in Y/N, and wanted nothing more than to take him home. The rational part of Bruce knows that Y/N was not B/N, and that it would be cruel to everyone if he continued to act like it. 

B/N would have hated it. 

Yet, as Bruce continued to watch Y/N get in his old car, one that was bought from a seedy person but a necessity because Y/N’s house was nowhere near his work, Bruce couldn’t stop the lurch in his throat or the way his heart almost stopped. Pictures of the wreck, of his son’s cold and emotionless face, filled his mind the same way his parents’ dead bodies do. Forever haunting. 

When Y/N had been brought to the manor, Bruce made the rule clear: Y/N is to never drive. It’s an easy rule that everyone follows. Even Alfred, the only one who could see how wrong all of this was, abided by the rule. 

Slowly but surely, everything was falling into place. They were so entranced with the idea of B/N being back that they had momentarily forgotten something. Y/N knows he is not B/N.

++++

“Y/N do not get in that driver’s seat!” He slammed his foot on the petal, and the screeching of tires only momentarily hurt his ears. Y/N knows, he knows he is just encouraging them to chase. This had turned into a cat and mouse chase, and by taking off and driving away, Y/N was only encouraging them to follow. 

It's not like he could go anywhere. His credit and debit were all tied back to Bruce, he had no family (because those assholes are the reason he is in this situation), no friends willing to stick up to the Wayne family (not that he blames them), and he has only known Gotham. There is nowhere for him to go. 

He knows this. Y/N knows this like he knows himself. 

Yet, he needed to get away. Just for a bit. Just to have a moment to himself where he is Y/N, and not B/N. Not the dead child that has yet to come back to the Wayne family. Although, with how obsessive and possessive they were acting with Y/N, perhaps it is best that B/N does stay buried. 

Y/N did not go into Gotham. He instead went towards the mountain range. B/N had died in Gotham. He had died in a car, in the driver’s seat, in Gotham City. Y/N was mad, yes. He was irritated and fed-up. However, he wasn’t cruel. As much as he wanted to, and he played with the idea like it was his favorite toy, he couldn’t bring himself to cause that much pain to Bruce, to Alfred, or even to the siblings. Maybe if they were abusive assholes and just terrible people doing this to be terrible. However, with his time spent with them, Y/N knows they aren’t terrible people. How can terrible people love someone as much as they loved B/N… right?

As much as his conscience encouraged him to, begged for him to, Y/N just couldn’t do it. So, he drove to the mountains, tears racing down his cheeks as he literally drove away from his problems and from the life he was chained to have. There is nowhere he could go that they couldn’t find him. 

For fuck’s sake, he’s positive that worse comes to worse, they will call on Superman to help them locate him. Batman, for how proud he was, would do anything to locate his kids. That is something even Y/N knew. It was something that he had to come to terms with, and it felt that the whole Justice League was going to be his enemy if he ever decided to run away. 

Y/N hit the steering wheel in anger. Six months ago he would have never done that, not to this beautiful car that was worth more than his life, but the frustration of it all had basically erupted. At least, here in the privacy of the car, he could vent and let out all the months of frustration and heartbreak. 

Heartbreak because Y/N knows that they don’t love him for Y/N. They only love him as the replacement for B/N. All they see is B/N unless Y/N is doing something that B/N would never do. 

‘Y/N, come back.’ The text message caused him to floor it, his vision blurring for a few seconds and the sight of a deer in the middle of the godforsaken road had him slamming on the brakes and nearly losing control. The screeching of tires and burnt smell of rubber had Y/N pulling over and catching his breath. 

Tears continued to stream down his face and he shakily removed his hands from the steering  wheel. He was breathing heavily as he did so, and he could feel his chest aching as the realization of what had happened. Turning around, he took in the empty road behind him and counted down the seconds before one of them would show up. He contemplated running. Forget the car and just start running to who knows where because this fucking sucks! 

All of this! This whole entire situation is just so messed up and the worst part about it is that Y/N knows it could be worse. He’s not locked in a basement. He’s not chained up or drugged, or anything really. It’s just… its not him their affections are going towards, its the ghost of the child who is gone. 

Gritting his teeth, Y/N tried starting the car only for the ignition to get stuck and no amount of jiggling, cursing, begging, or crying moved it. 

“Fucking hell!” He hit the steering wheel again. He got out of the car, and in a fit of rage, he kicked the tire. Sort of like an animal trapped in a cage, he began pacing back and forth in front of the car, seething with rage. 

His phone dinged, and Y/N didn’t even bother to read the text. He threw the phone across the road into the thickets beside the road. Y/N let out a loud rage-filled scream, and then sat next to the car. His back resting against the waxed door and he waited patiently for the sound of an engine, which wasn’t too long. 

Looking out on the road, he could see the silhouette of a motorcycle, and he knows that it is Jason. Which is… odd. Him and Jason haven’t talked as much as he and the others have. Jason was sort of a sore subject in the house, and whenever he was over tensions were somewhat high. Not enough to stop Dick from being friendly, but enough for Y/N to escape whenever he was there.

“What do you want?” Y/N bit out at the large man as he hopped off the motorcycle and loomed in front of the crouched boy. When the helmet came off, Y/N was expecting to see an angry or even annoyed expression. One that would show Y/N just how irritated Jason was of having to drive out to the middle of nowhere to pick him up. 

He wasn’t expecting to see the frantic look in Jason’s eyes. The man grabbed Y/N;s bicep and yanked him up, making the teen yelp in shock. Frazzled E/C met angry green, “You have a lot of nerve doing that,” Jason growled out and Y/N scrunched his nose in irritation. 

“I have a lot of nerve? You all have a lot of nerve for treating me the way you do!” He pushed Jason’s chest, but the man’s grip only tightened, “How are we treatin’ ya, huh? Ya’ get great food, great clothes, ya’ neve have to worry about money. So just what are ya’ throwing a fit for?!” Y/N sometimes forgets that Jason is also an alley kid, but he would recognize that accent anywhere. 

“As if any of that is for me.” Jason stilled and Y/N glared up at him, “Ya’ ain’t doin’ it because ya’ care about me. You’re only doin’ it because ya’ see me as B/N!” Jason looked ready to shoot him, and some part of Y/N was hoping that he did. 

“We don’t-” 

“Don’t lie to me!” Y/N screeched, and hit Jason’s chest again. Jason releases his grip, making Y/N stumble for a bit, “I know ya’ all don’t see me. Ya’ll just see the parts of B/N that ya’ want to see. If I didn’t act like him, or look like him, ya’ would have never talked to me in the first place.” A truth that was painful to admit but it had to be said. Y/N stared at Jason with tears racing down his cheeks as the bitter and painful truth filled the air between them. 

“I know ya’ wouldn’t have befriended me, or whatever the hell this is. I know it, because there is nothing about me that strikes ya’ all besides the fact that my eyes and apparently my personality is similar to his.” Y/N took a deep breath, choking down sobs and wishing for his eyes to stop crying, “I know none of ya’ would have even glanced my way because what else do I have that any of ya’ could want?” 

What else is he other than a replacement? If Y/N had different eyes and a different sense of humor, he would have nothing that the Wayne family would want. He would just be another passerby on the street. Another stranger working in a nail salon who just so happens to be a regular at the coffee shop next door. 

Another soul that Gotham would have swallowed up within her dark secrets.

The simple truth is that Y/N is nothing but a placeholder. A cheap imitation. He is nothing but a puppy that parents give to their child after their other dog just died. A ‘feel better’ thing until the pain passes and then forgotten. 

That is all Y/N is. That is all he will ever be. If he were to die, they wouldn’t mourn ‘Y/N.’ They would mourn another fragment of B/N. 

Jason swallowed thickly, and a lot gentler than he did before now that anger has subsided and he has a crying teen in front of him, he placed his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. He expected the flinch, just not one that made him wince. 

“Y/N, I…” But what can he say to all the facts that are clearly presented before him? Jason didn’t know of Y/N outside of the manor. He never met Y/N at the coffee shop, or simply running into him on the streets.

He knew that the situation was fucked up. Hell, Jason himself had felt like a replacement for Robin, and it took a while for him to get over that he was not a replacement, just simply a new Robin. However, Y/N was a replacement for B/N. He was a bandaid for the family to heal. 

Jason himself is guilty for using him like a replacement, and he wonders if B/N would be pissed at all of them for doing so. He would put money on ‘yes.’ Y/N’s livid at them.

“I know that this situation is fucked, and this isn’t how you would want to live. But from alley kid to alley kid, it's a pretty good situation.” Y/N rolled his eyes, and glared at Jason, “Of course you can see the positive because you’re part of the problem!” 

Yeah, Jason saw that coming. It was a cheap excuse but he really didn’t have an answer. He stared down at the sobbing teen, and he could feel guilt crawling into his chest. He may have never asked for his brothers to do this, but he sure is being compliant with all of this. 

“Do you want out of there that badly?” Y/N looked up at Jason through the tears, and Jason could feel his heart strings tug. 

“What?” 

“Do you want out that badly? Do know if ya’ leave, ya’ can’t really have a normal life. They’ll track ya’ down wherever ya’ go.” Y/N knows this. He knows that wherever he goes he doomed to have followers. Nevertheless, the idea was too appealing. 

“Yes, please.” If he had looked closer he would have noticed how the smile Jason had became a bit sharper, and the green in his eyes more intense. 

“Okay, c’mon. I may not be able to get ya’ out of Gotham, but I can at least hide ya’ until they calm down.” From one cage to another, Y/N followed Jason to his bike and wrapped his arms around the other. 

Y/N doesn’t know, but Jason is a ball and chain all on his own. Once Y/N is in a safehouse, Jason will talk to the others to have them ‘adjust’ their attitudes. They may still see him as B/N, but they’ll hide it until they can finally see him as Y/N. Only then will the obsession grow. 

For now, Y/N needs a break to calm down. As do the bats. Its only temporary housing. Thats it. From one cage to another, and Y/N has gone willingly to both. 

[moonsprcngs]

I love love love your writting. can you do an enemies to lovers Sirius Black one shot? idk like make it hella dramatic, like fighting in the rain n then they kiss, or like a truth or dare n they have to kiss or sum. again love u sm have a good day stay healthy

hi my lovely, thank you so so much for the compliment & the request! i'm so flattered that u love my writing. i love YOU and i hope this did ur idea justice! <3 i also decided to make the reader a hufflepuff in this cause i thought it'd be a cute lil asset, hope u don't mind!

sirius black x fem!hufflepuff!reader <3

One thing about you is that you could not stand Sirius Black.

Everybody seemed to love him. Not just the students, but teachers too; even Professor McGonagall couldn't hide her smirk behind her hand when she often gave him a good scolding.

Really, the only one of the four marauders you could stand was Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew was okay, though he was far too much of a tag-a-long for your liking, and James Potter was practically Sirius' right hand man. Remus was your Potions partner and he was, admittedly, as much of a sweetheart as a marauder could get, often helping you study and walking you back to your common room when he caught you asleep in the library during his prefect rounds (which only happened once... or maybe twice).

"They're not so bad," he promised you one Potions class, watching for your reaction with a sheepish grin as Sirius and James messed with Snape's potion at the back of the room. "They're actually really nice once you, y'know, get to know them."

"Nice?" you questioned him, scoffing out a laugh and grimacing at the sound of Sirius' laughter bellowing through the classroom. "Need I remind you what Sirius did to me in third year?"

"I know, I know! But he's changed, Y/N, honestly! He's more... mature?"

Even Remus couldn't quite believe the words that had just left his mouth as you both watched the boy in question actually spit into Severus' cauldron. "Oh yeah, Rem, so mature."

One thing about Sirius Black is that he could not stand you.

He'd always believed what he did to you in your third year was harmless, something that would be forgotten within a month or two and not to be dwelled on. He knew you harboured a secret little crush on him at the time, so he figured... why not?

He really did mean it when he asked you out, though. Sure, he didn't know you too well; you were really just another Hufflepuff that he shared some classes with. But Remus seemed to like you, so he figured it could at least be a good way to make a new friend if nothing else.

"Hey."

You looked up from your book on Herbology at the rude interruption, and of all the people you were expecting to be standing before you, you were surprised at the sight of Sirius Black. You cleared your throat awkwardly, willing the immediate blush to disappear from your cheeks. "Hi?"

It came out as more of a question than you intended it to, but he grinned at you nonetheless and your face felt warm, was it warm in there?

You did a quick scan of the library in search of any of his smug little friends, but you saw no one. Just him.

He didn't wait for an invitation before pulling out the chair beside you and sitting down, still grinning ear to ear. "You free Saturday?"

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows in surprise, your yellow tie suddenly feeling far too restrictive around your neck as you somehow managed to splutter out a "yes". Sirius pulled a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back (pink and white roses) and offered them to you with the same lopsided grin. "Meet me at the Three Broomsticks? Two o'clock?"

The only problem was... James had gotten into his head.

That same afternoon, Sirius entered his dorm with an air of confidence, not dissimilar to usual, but he had a different sort of spring in his step.

Remus and James were sat on their respective beds. The former looked up at him over his book and raised a single eyebrow, clearly noticing something different about his entrance, though James didn't look up from the Quidditch magazine he was reading and paid no mind.

"Afternoon, boys," he announced, his voice dripping with glee as he crashed down onto his bed.

"Afternoon, Pads," Remus responded, a curious tone to his voice as he kept his eyebrow raised. "What's gotten into you today?"

"Scored a date," he said, far too matter-of-factly for the grin he was still sporting. "With Y/N."

Remus' book fell shut on the ground with a thud, jaw dropped open and lost for words as James finally cocked an eyebrow. "Who's that?"

"Y/N L/N. Y'know, the Hufflepuff girl in our Potions class?"

"And Herbology, and Charms," Remus finally composed himself, now staring at Sirius with a pointed look, well aware of his friend's... reputation. "Look, Pads. I know she likes you, but you have to be careful about this. Y/N is my friend, and I don't want to see you hurt her."

James suddenly barked out a laugh, finally dropping his magazine as he engaged in the conversation. "Be careful? There's nothing to be careful about, Moony. As if Sirius is actually going to go on a date with a Hufflepuff. Don't embarrass yourself like that, Padfoot."

"Don't be such a dick, Prongs," Remus spat, tossing a cushion at his mate and hitting him square in the head. "She's my friend."

Sirius said nothing.

So the next Saturday rolled around and you arrived at the Three Broomsticks at five minutes to two. Though, five minutes to two became two o'clock, which became two thirty, which became three, which soon became four.

And Sirius never showed.

The next day at breakfast, you'd found him, slapped him across the face, threw the bouquet of pink and white roses back at him and left without a word.

Sirius Black did not like to be publicly humiliated. He decided there and then that he wanted nothing else to do with you.

It wasn't until your sixth year rolled around that Remus realised things were changing.

Gryffindor had just won their first match of the season against Slytherin and, as usual, there was a huge party in their common room.

You weren't much of a partier, usually preferring to stay in the comfort of your dorm with a book that you and Remus were bound to discuss within the next few days. Of course, you'd attend the parties when Hufflepuff won, but you were never one to join in with the other houses.

Although he knew this, Remus Lupin had a plan.

He was beginning to grow sick of the constant complaining on both sides of his friends. It was always "Come on, Moony, she's so bloody weird" or "Look at him, Remus, how on earth can you stand to be friends with him?" and, quite frankly, he'd had enough.

He loved the marauders, of course; they were his best friends, his brothers. But he also loved you, and though he knew that Sirius' young and dumb actions in third year hurt you, he really wasn't lying when he said he'd changed.

Yes, Sirius would call you weird or strange or annoying to his friends, but Remus knew he was deflecting. He saw the way something in his eyes changed when he watched you enter Platform 9 3/4 on the first day of your fifth year. He saw the way he'd been secretly pining over you for the last year.

Likewise, he knew the same went for you too. No matter how badly he hurt you, your feelings for Sirius never really left. He saw the way your gaze lingered on his friend for just a little bit too long. He knew the way you shook your head and muttered "what a dick" under your breath every time you looked away was a cover up.

The party in the Gryffindor common room was in full swing by the time Remus convinced you to join him. It had taken a lot of begging and a fair few promises to buy you more books before you agreed, and you found yourself awkwardly at Remus' side as you entered through the portrait hole.

It wasn't long until James had found his friend and immediately tugged him away. Remus tried to fight it but found him impossible, shooting you an apologetic smile before you lost sight of him. You made a mental note to demand another promise of more books when you found him again.

You accepted defeat and made your way over to the drinks table, in need of at least something before you inevitably called it a night early and headed back to the comfort of your own common room.

Smoothing the fabric of your dress down, you suddenly felt very out of place in the yellow and white floral fabric, but an unfortunately familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts before you got too caught up in them.

"L/N?"

You immediately snapped your head up and fought the urge to roll your eyes at the source of the voice. "Black."

Sirius seemed surprised at your presence, his eyebrows raised and an interesting sort of smirk gracing his features as he looked down at you. "And what exactly are you doing here?"

"Remus invited me," you kept your answers short, trying to slow your rapidly beating heart as you reached for the firewhiskey and flashed him a sarcastic smile. "Is that a crime?"

"No." His smirk only grew, seemingly amused at your snap back as he kept his eyes on you. "Not a crime at all, love."

He knew what he was doing. How dare he try and flirt with you now after what he did before.

"Don't call me that," your response came immediately and you felt yourself trying to fight the shiver that was so desperate to creep down your spine. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a party to enjoy and somebody to stay far away from."

That was an hour ago now, and since then you had already downed way too many cups of firewhiskey for your body to handle. You were so set on trying to avoid Sirius that you tried to make yourself forget he was even there at all.

An hour became two and Sirius ended up finding you back at the drinks table again, barely even holding yourself up as you tried to pour yourself a cup of whatever alcohol was nearest to you. Sirius, though definitely not sober, was painfully so compared to you, and he watched in slight amusement as you managed to get more of the liquid on your dress than in the cup.

"You alright over there?" His voice snapped you out of your pitiful concentration and in turn made you jump, even more of the liquid spilling down you when you did.

"Hello, Sirius," you responded, turning to look at him with a big smile and almost stumbling into his chest, causing him to wrap his arms around you as he caught you.

In your clouded state of mind, you couldn't for the life of you remember that you're supposed to hate this guy, and instead only found memories of the longing gazes when you racked your mind. You'd regret this tomorrow; you most certainly could not handle your drink.

"Hello, Y/N," Sirius raised his eyebrows at your state as he answered you, still amused as he copied your tone of voice. "You look like you've had enough."

You gasped as if he had just suggested you were You-Know-Who himself. "I have not!"

Despite your best efforts, your words came out slurred and Sirius knew Remus would not be happy that you're left out here alone in this state. He cast a quick glance around the common room but couldn't find a single glimpse of his mate in the crowd, and he let out a quiet curse under his breath.

I'm supposed to hate her, he thought to himself, letting his eyes fall back on your smiling face. She embarrassed you Sirius, shoved a bouquet of bloody roses at you in front of the entire Great Hall to see. But why did she have to grow up and be so bloody pretty?

"Let's get you back to your common room, yeah?" He suggested, gently taking the cup from you and placing it back down on the table.

He admittedly felt bad for you. Remus was nowhere to be found and he couldn't just let you get all the way back to the Hufflepuff common room by yourself in this state. You're just being a decent guy, Sirius, he told himself again. You'd do this for anyone.

You either didn't seem to hear him or his words didn't register in your brain, because when he placed a hand on the small of your back to carefully lead you through the crowd and back through the portrait hole, you only spoke with a grin.

"Are we going on a walk?"

"Yeah, love. We're going on a walk." Sirius couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction, but deep down he felt a little tense. With the state you were in, anyone could've taken advantage of you, and he was glad he found you before anyone else did. Maybe it was the little bit of firewhiskey still running through his veins, but Merlin, Black, the fuck is wrong with you tonight?

The walk back to the Hufflepuff common room was slow and quiet, and Sirius ended up wrapping an arm around your shoulders and taking most of your weight against him to stop your constant stumbling.

Once you'd reached the portrait, you muttered the password and allowed Sirius to half-carry you through, still not completely aware of what was going on, and the pair of you only stopped when you reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.

He'd never been in this part of the castle before, and he couldn't stop the small smile that graced his lips when he noticed it smelt like a lovely mixture of flowers and freshly baked cookies.

You turned to face him once you reached the stairs and something suddenly clicked in your drunken mind.

"Sirius? Is that you?!"

He chuckled quietly again and nodded his head, raising his eyebrows with an amusement smile. "Yeah, it's me. You're back in your common room now, yeah?"

You took a moment to process his words through the thick fog clouding your brain and nodded your head, still smiling too before looking down at your dress. Your smile fell into a sad frown. "Oh no, it's ruined! It was so pretty!"

The boy in front of you took notice at the alcohol stains on your dress and shrugged his shoulders. "It's still pretty. I mean, you look pretty. I mean-"

If you did notice him stumbling over his words and the blush that rose to his warm cheeks, you didn't show it (though Sirius doubted very much that you did notice in your state). You simply smiled again, turning away from Sirius without another word as you all but skipped up the stairs.

It wasn't until he neared the portrait hall to leave again that he heard your quiet little drunken giggle. "Sirius Black thinks I'm pretty."

That was months ago now and you and Sirius hadn't even uttered a word to each other about that night.

Actually, if it was possible, you started avoiding each other more.

You were finally starting to admit to yourself that you had feelings for Sirius Black, but that scared you. How could you fall for him again after he stood you up in your third year? He left you there for two hours, your single butterbeer looking pathetic in front of you as Madame Rosmerta shot you sympathetic smiles from behind the counter every now and again.

You hadn't been in there since.

Little did you know, Sirius was avoiding you for exactly the same reason.

Okay, perhaps he was a little embarrassed to admit that he liked you. James was a dick that day three years ago and, although Sirius knew the both of them had matured since then, he couldn't help but worry his best friend just wouldn't approve. He knew deep down that James, especially now older, would just want him to be happy, but he was scared.

Remus had been so angry with him when he stood you up that he was also scared to face him again. Would he even believe him or force him to stay away from you for your own wellbeing?

The rain was pelting down heavily in early February as you trudged into Professor Slughorn's Potions class. The castle at this time of year was sickening, with pink and red paper hearts hovering over your heads in the hallways and fluttering around the tables in the Great Hall as Valentine's Day drew closer.

Even your professors had taken on the Valentine's theme, and you couldn't help but groan as you gathered around Slughorn's desk with the other Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.

"Amortentia," the professor announced, and a group of Gryffindors standing behind you giggled to themselves. "The most powerful love potion in the world. If brewed correctly, the scent will be different to everyone according to what attracts them."

James Potter scoffed on the other side of the crowd and whispered something in Sirius' ear. The latter laughed loudly, pulling the attention of everyone in the room.

"Mr Black?" Slughorn spoke through the boy's laughter, keeping his calm demeanour. "Perhaps, since you find this so amusing, you'd like to demonstrate for us?"

"Don't mind if I do, sir," Sirius just laughed again and made his way through the group, going to stand by the professor with a cocky smirk. "I bet it's just a load of old bollocks anyway."

"Well, I suppose we'll find out, Mr Black. Tell us what you smell, won't you?"

You watched as Sirius leant over the cauldron and you took a moment to take in his appearance. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned a quarter of the way, his red and gold tie hanging loosely around his neck, and though you willed it not to, your heart couldn't help but flutter slightly.

At that moment, you realised that, if Slughorn was right, Sirius was about to reveal the scent of the one he loved.

"Smells like..." his voice pulled you from your thoughts as he took in the scent of the potion, "vanilla, fresh cookies, and..."

He trailed off, and his eyes suddenly flicked up to meet yours, an unreadable expression on his face as he muttered quietly.

"And, uh, roses."

Whether it was the intensity of Sirius' gaze or the fact that everybody had turn round to look at you that made you storm out of the Potions classroom, you couldn't be sure.

Not even the heaviness of the rain could stop you as you tried to get as far away from the castle as possible. What the fuck just happened?

"Y/N?"

You shook your head, refusing to turn around as you continued walking. "Leave me alone, Sirius."

"Y/N, please-"

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Merlin's beard, L/N, would you stop and listen to me for one bloody second!"

He'd caught up to you now, throwing himself in front of you to stop you on your course. You'd almost crashed into his chest, and Sirius suddenly remembered how you'd done the same thing at that party four months ago.

"Sirius, please-" you begged quietly, trying to push past him.

You didn't get very far as he gently grabbed your elbow and brought you back in front of him. "No, Y/N, we're going to talk. For the first time, we're going to bloody talk."

"About what, Black? What could you possibly want to talk to me about? You haven't wanted to talk to me for the last three years, why start now?!"

He couldn't help it as his voice raised slightly, and you watched him grab at his dripping wet hair in frustration. "I just openly admitted my feelings for you in front of the entire fuckin' class and you won't even talk to me!"

"Because it's bullshit, Sirius!"

Sirius stopped at this, his eyebrows furrowing as he shook his head slightly. "What the bloody hell do you mean?"

"This is just another one of your plans to humiliate me, just like you did three years ago. I'm not falling for it this time."

Successfully this time, you pushed past him, shoulders brushing together as you did. He tried to grab your wrist to pull you back but you shook it out of his grip and continued walking away from him again.

"Y/N-"

"No."

"Y/N, come on-"

"I said no, Sirius."

"Y/N, I fucking love you!"

His words halted you in place. Neither of you spoke for a moment, and the only sounds you could hear was the violent pattering of the rain and his heavy breathing.

You shook your head slowly, not even turning around to face him. "You can't. You can't do this shit to me, Sirius."

"Why not? It's true!"

His words dripped with exasperation. He seemed desperate now, his body moving back in front of you again and Godric, were those just raindrops on your face or had you been crying too?

"Sirius, I can't- I can't let myself be hurt by you again," your voice cracked slightly as you refused to look at him, feeling your throat clog pathetically. "I liked you. I really bloody liked you and when you stood me up I was so humiliated."

Something in his face softened at your words, and his voice grew quieter. "Y/N, I didn't know-"

"I haven't been on a single date since, Sirius. I can't let anyone even attempt to get close to me like that because every time they do I think they're just gonna stand me up anyway, because that's what Sirius Black did. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to fall in love with you when-"

But suddenly all words were forgotten as his lips were on yours.

Sirius' hands were now on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He tasted faintly of cigarettes and some chocolate that was no doubt stolen from Remus, and it took a moment to process what was happening. But you kissed him back.

Godric, did you kiss him back.

It was a few moments later when you pulled away, his forehead finding place against yours. Neither of you spoke for a moment and your eyes took their time to flutter open, only to find him already looking at you.

"You love me, you said it yourself. Give me a chance," his voice came as a whisper, his breath fanning against your mouth as his eyes searched your features desperately.

You nodded your head breathlessly, your hands sliding up around his shoulders as you gave him a pathetically pointed look. "You pull that third year shit ever again and you're dead."

"I swear. Merlin, I swear."

You laughed quietly and Sirius broke out into a wide smile. The silence that took over you both was comfortable, the rain providing a settling background noise despite the cold that chilled your bones

"For the record, I would have smelled you too."

[spicysourchimken]

Murder! Murder! Murder!

TRIGGER WARNING: discussions of death, murder, descriptions of corpses, gore and corpse desecration

(This Idea is loosely inspired by @/the-witchhunter's 'Ghost in the Morgue', please go check it out if you like this concept and have not yet read it)

[Other stuff in this AU: World Building]

Corpses au Danny, not just Corpse but Corpses. Every time Danny transforms he drops a new body, Danny honestly has lived with it long enough that it's funny at this point (and also. maybe made him a little weird about his own death and or deaths). This is not the same for Tim, who now has to deal with a potential serial killer.

Tim is looking into a string of strange and suspicious deaths that might point to the appearance of a new rogue, this results in him taking a visit to the morgue as Red Robin, only to meet a potential victim, Daniel Fenton the latest medical examiner for GCPD.

----

Tim was the one who had found the first body a week ago. He'd been on patrol when he'd spotted it propped up against a dumpster in an alley. It couldn't have been there longer than an hour, the blood was far too fresh.

Tim had planned to just check out the scene and call it in, but then he actually saw the body. It'd been eviscerated, torso ripped open organs spilling out and its hands had been frozen to the ground- hell the entire body seemed to be coated in a layer of frost.

Tim kept tabs on the investigation, if anything for simple curiosity. Then they'd found the second body. Body frozen to the ground, same victim profile- but the death had been completely different. Slashed throat, face mutilated.

Then there was another, and this time Tim wanted to see it in person. This was either a serial killer or the start of a new rogue, and for Tim to be able to tell he needed to see. He sent word to Gordon, if anything more of a warning. He was greeted by the medical examiner.

Greeted was a strong word.

The medical examiner was... strange. Tim had heard news of him starting work and as far as Tim was aware of he was clean, and an almost boring person. The medical examiner that Tim met was unnerving. Pale, staring almost through him and carried blase attitude to his work.

What was worse is that he reminded so much of a corpse, not just a corpse but the corpse.

Then it struck him.

Fenton could be a target. Fenton could be the focus of the killer's obsession.

He'd have to keep tabs on Fenton, too bad he might be the most reckless Gotham citizen in existence.

----

Gotham, admittedly hadn't been Danny's first pick after he finished medical school. Danny had always intended to become a medical examiner, dealing with your own corpses for years would do that do you. 'Finished' was the real problem, Danny had been doing well, great even but then he'd died. Twice. Real unfortunate really, hit and run and then poison, left him with a dry throat for weeks.

His own classmate apparently tried to kill him, which means it would be more than hard to actually finish medical school. That's fine, he had access to Tucker, an actual godsend who was able to make it look like he had all the proper qualifications... as long as you didn't look too hard.

Gotham was apparently pressed for a good medical examiner. All he needed to be was experienced.

Thankfully he had that in spades.

Things frankly only started going down hill last week. He'd made a habit of taking on requests between work, occultist avoided Gotham like the plague leaving him the only voice for the dead. Usually it was pretty easy gig, collect some momentos, help a few ghosts recognize they're dead. Until he'd had to deal with a Wraith.

It didn't go well. Danny was dead set on handling it as a human, appearing as Phantom could cause all matter of chaos. Danny had also not been informed that the claws of a wraith could pierce through human flesh so there's that. Danny was once again evicted from the mortal coil, dropping his own corpse and having to finish the fight off

Danny had planned to deal with his body after gaining his human form back and making sure that the thing could no longer return to the earthly plane. Turns out a bat got there first, turned the place into a crime scene. Just his luck he was beaten bloody enough to be unrecognizable.

His luck continued to go down hill when he was killed, not once, not twice but three times (this of course, wasn't accounting for the times he'd needed to go ghost). He'd gotten good at taking care of his bodies in Gotham at that point, or so he thought, until he was told he had not only a new body on his table and Red Robin waiting to be escorted to his morgue.

Now Danny has to juggle the growing chaos that it they spirits of Gotham while trying to make sure none of his bodies are identified, even if that means making a mess of Red Robin's investigations.

[burrythebusy]

Outlining my gripes with the ch. 29 TL

Alright chat. Basically, i have the same problems I had with the 28 tl but, to give it credit, it's definitely not as bad. (Note that I'm basing my opinions off of the TL posted on the most known sites, and I'm comparing that to the TLs of the numerous servers I'm in INCLUDING the one of the person that did the popular TL I'm doing the comparison of)

I think one of the most important parts of ch. 29 is how it bounces of of 28.

Small bit first, but this still bothers me

Considering how weirdly aggressive ch. 28 was translated, the whole idea that hirano "fought it" annoys me because he literally just flinched??? Maybe thats just how I perceive the term "fought" but he didn't try to pull away nor did he react that adversely as were being made to believe by the words (re: the whole "repulsed" thing as if he didn't just feel discomfort or even just shock which was the tlers own words too, but whatever)

Anyway, Hirano is thinking that he can't live up to the expectation of what defines romantic love (certain physical touches, kissing, etc.) He WANTS to be able to return Kagiura’s feelings, but if this is what romantic feelings are supposed to be like, can he?

Firstly, his convo with Ichinose is fine for the most part. My small peeve comes in with this page because Ichinose actually says "just kidding" after but without that this looks kinda mean 😭 but out of context it's funny as hell

But I want us to keep in mind what ichinose says here

"Its the best feeling in the world finding out someone returns your feelings" and he's, to me, definitely referring to Hirano here, not Kagi (this'll make sense in a bit) keep this in mind.

So, we get to the parts that I have the most issues with, which is hrkgs conversation

Another small petty note but

"Them's fightin' words asshole" is admittedly funny but WHAT LMFAO?????

Okay, here's my BIGGESTTTT gripe. Which is shocking but it bothered me the most.

That is not what Hirano says.

Specifically, Hirano says that "the sky suits Kagiura". The sky is SUCH an important mention here and it being completely omitted is actually nuts. Because without that, Hirano just looks like hes thirsting! Out of nowhere! Like what do you mean "damn he looks good like this" like WHAT? If i hadn't the context of other tls, I would think that he's talking about Kagiura's muscles or something because, while the sky is still a possibility with this wording, it's not the only one. "Like this" with his sleeves up? Smiling? Sitting next to you? Relaxed? What are we talking about here? This gives us nothing to work with KNOWING that the original text is saying that the Kagiura with the SKY as his backdrop suits him. Why omit the sky part????

We know Hirano is very fixated on the sky (pilot things whatever whatever). Hes always looking up at it. He sees contrails and distrails and clear skies and overcast, he pays a lot of attention to it. So when he says the sky suits Kagiura (and not vice versa) that's so freaking important. The one time Hirano notices the sky but isnt looking at it, hes looking at the person in front of him, with the sky as the backdrop, something he loves emphasizing someone he loves, them complementing each other. And you choose TO OMIT THAT?? WHY???

Again, reading this tl, I was like holy shit. Why is he just THIRSTING??

Completely ruins the meaning. And this was my favorite freaking page from this chapter. Its not that much to ask that you include the literal SUBJECT that was said right??? The SKY??? Come on.

Another small peeve, the way Kagiura says yeah I wanna kiss you annoys me. Its not incorrect by any means and I know it's just added flare and characterization but

It just sounds so... matter-of-fact. The tone is like "well DUH" when I didn't take it that way originally when he says "I wanna kiss you because I'm in love with you" and i talked about why when the chapter First came out

To me, this translation kinda... diminished that. But of course after this he still confirms that he doesn't want to DATE hirano because he wants to kiss him, etc. That part I'm fine with i think it was done very well.

ANOTHERRR nitpick I hate this wording "kinda has me craving it" this is CRAZY to read and it makes me convulse sorry. Hirano was ""repulsed"" by that touch?? Well I'm REPULSED BY THIS.

WHY R YOU SAYING IT LIKE THAT

Please refer to my reblog for the rest because I reached the picture limit 😒😒😒