#high intensity computing

[ilbioeconomista]

Neste MY Renewable Diesel to power Verne data centers’ back-up generators in Finland

Photo: Neste MY Renewable Diesel truck in front of Verne’s data center in Helsinki. Source: Verne Neste’s renewable diesel helps Verne, a provider of sustainable data center solutions for high intensity computing, to transition its operations from fossil to renewable fuels. Verne’s data centers in Helsinki, Pori and Tampere in Finland will use Neste MY Renewable Diesel™ to power their backup…

[orcelito]

Oh yeah yesterday I went to my C programming professor's office hours to ask about what's being covered in class tomorrow. Since I can't go bc of my PT appointment overlapping with it & I'm apparently the kind of student that cares about attending every single class now.

While I was there, I ended up chatting with him about a few things, including my current standing in the class. He asked what I got on the midterm exam, & I answered it was an 87, and he told me I was one of the top 5 or 6 scores in the Whole Class (this being a like. Maybe 70 or so person class). Top score was a 92 or 93 (idr lol) & the class average was a 72. Apparently there were a few of us in the upper 80s/lower 90s, but most people got 70s or lower. And once he does the curve on the exam, he said I'd probably end up with a 97 or so on the exam. So yay!!!

And then he told me how he's noticed how I come to class every day and am really active with taking notes and answering questions. Bc I also sit up front all the time lmao. Hadn't even realized how much of a damned teacher's pet I've been being, but I've been Trying to be a good student this year. But he said I was the type of student that if I got an 88% or smth in the class, he'd likely bump me up to a 90% so I'd get an A lol. But he also said so long as I keep up with how I have been, I could possibly get a 100% in the class by the end (bc I've been there for all the extra credit questions in class and whatever).

And just. I went there bc I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything important in class on Wednesday, and I ended up having my ego stroked for Real. Felt good to have my efforts be recognized.

[awkward-teabag]

You know what, I'm going to add to this after all. Ray tracing is a gimmick and infamous for how intensive it is on hardware where it updates in real time, such as in video games. Before it was considered at all feasible outside rendering CGI, there were other methods of simulating light that were far easier for hardware to handle and, honestly, the difference between them (I can't remember what the name of the algorithm is) and ray tracing is minimal.

Adding to the problem is video card manufacturers pushing it while not increasing the VRAM on cards that are now expected to handle ray tracing, NPC scripts/AI, all other graphics, and stream encoding at the same time. GPUs have not seen a meaningful increase in VRAM in years despite the push of 4k graphics and ray tracing.

Oh and handling generating in-between frames to increase FPS/hide poor optimisation and up-scaling from 1080p to 4k or 8k. Sometimes both at the same time (in addition to the rest).

Further compounding it is consoles using stripped down versions of GPUs but not allowing users to upgrade them or other hardware. At least not in an easy way that doesn't void the warranty.

There's only so much that can be off-loaded to other components and it is a Choice™ to decide not to include an option to disable features that minimally improve the graphics (I specify graphics since more than one game has been released where turning off ray tracing wasn't the first thing recommended to turn off if you wanted to hit 30+ FPS) but can and do overwhelm GPUs.

Mandatory Ray Tracing should be banned in games. Genuinely absurd to think the majority of consumers are running high performing RTX graphics cards.

[crabpeach]

Something my SO's mother made me realize the last time we were visiting was that I don't think I ever really learned English in school.

Like I took English classes, but I never really understood what they were trying to teach me. Nothing ever stuck.

In elementary school, they would do these reading tests that would say how well we could read. In 3rd grade, they said I was "reading at an 8th grade level". But I remembering never attempting books harder than the 1st grade level for as long as I could and struggling on assigned reading. And when 8th grade finally came and went, there was no one to retest me to make sure I was keeping up in my reading level.

When I wanted to go to the merit-based school with a specialization in science, I had one of the best math scores in the county. But I didn't make it because my reading score was abysmal. I had to go to the IB high school instead. IB exams were much more intensive with writing. And I still didn't really get it. It wasn't until my senior year of high school, after bouncing around high schools, that they realized I didn't qualify for any of the higher difficulty English classes they offered. So they put me in "regular English". And holy hell, we were learning about sentence structures! And basic grammar! For the first time, education was helping me understand how to write!

I wished I had been in regular English the whole time. I never really had agency in what I was being taught. They thought because I was so good at math, I must be smart enough for everything else. Because I had managed to keep my grades up in every class they threw at me, that I was good enough for the harder stuff. But I'm 10 years removed from that one class and it's still the only time I can remember being taught something about the English language that was helpful.

[carnations-fixations]

God, listened to something the other night and I can't stop thinking about like, working a terrible office job an just totally zoning out for an hour, playing solitaire or tetris on your computer until your boss calls you into her office

And you're just like oh fuck oh fuck she's gonna fire me oh shit oh shit-

Then you finally get into her office and she's sitting at her desk, rubbing her temple and staring at her computer with pure fucking disdain

You manage to squeak out a small "You wanted to see me?" And she looks up, her face relaxing almost imperceptibly. She tells you to sit and you do, not giving your obedience a second thought. You're still terrified you'll be out of a job.

"This meeting is killing me, and I know you're not doing any work in there, so you're going to stay here with me until it's over."

You look at her confused.

"I've seen you check me out more than enough times by now, love. Now, you can absolutely walk back out that door and keep not-working, I assure you no one's stopping you, or you can stay here and earn a little bonus."

Now you understand what's happening. She points to the floor next to her and you stand, walking over and kneeling. You think about leaving. You think about quitting. But she's right, you've been very attracted to her since the moment you saw her, and you struggle to keep your eyes off her body. So maybe this isn't so bad

She starts by just petting your hair as you sit there, staring forward and feeling a cocktail of anxiety, fear, and excitement bubbling in your chest. Then she gets even more bored, and slowly turns her chair so that you're facing each other instead of being side by side

"Last chance," She says, staring lasers into your skull. You can't bring yourself to meet her gaze, but you stay right where you are, obediently making your allegiance clear.

"Good girl," She says, opening her legs. She puts your head between her thighs, not taking off her pants, at least not yet. You finally look up at her, and she's staring at you with the most intense adoration you've ever been subject to. She's surprisingly gentle, simply petting your hair and looking down at you. Her pants are starting to bulge, the sight of you between her legs enough to get her aroused.

You feel daring enough to, while keeping eye contact, kiss her inner thigh. She grins and nods.

"Go on, doll."

Your chest feels like it's wrapped around a nuclear core. Jesus Christ this is hot- you look away, blushing profusely, and she slaps you. Not exceedingly hard, but it stings and sends a message.

"Eyes up here, doll."

You nod again, looking back up at her and placing gentle kisses on her thighs, moving higher... higher... until her grip on your hair becomes somewhat sadistic, pushing you closer to her now-prominent bulge.

You kiss and nuzzle and- god she smells fucking good- it's already enough to get you feeling high off her scent. She nods and pets you, pushing you down, although you don't need it. You'd already be grinding your face against her regardless.

Finally, you get brave, and reach up to her belt.

"That's it, dolly, go ahead- You know how to please Mommy, don't you~?"

God- No one's really talked to you like this before, and it makes your head swim, forgetting the inappropriate nature of all of this. All you want is to make her happy- You undo her belt with shaking hands and unzip her pants, just pulling them apart enough to get to what you need-

She's nice enough to help you pull her panties down, and you finally have access to her long, throbbing cock. A sound escapes you, like an excited squeak.

"Aww, little puppy wants a treat?"

You feel hot and fuzzy and strange and all you can think about is sucking Mommy's cock like a good little whore- you don't even know where these impulses come from. At this point, you don't care. You just inhale and let the scent of her musk erase all your thoughts.

"Open."

You obey.

She lowers herself onto your tongue.

"Suck."

You obey.

She pushes your head down, lower, until you're gagging harshly.

"Good fuckin' girl- Mnh--fuck, you're not too bad at this, I should keep you around-- nnNNgh-"

Hearing her voice break only makes your mind break double, looking up at her and sucking like your life is on the line, She bites back loud moans, dictating your pace with a hand in your hair. As she starts to get rougher and rougher, you can't help but feel so, so needy- hitting your uvula and making you gag, something you never thought you'd like, is like heaven in her hands.

"Mmn-- God you're such a good little whore for Mommy- NHfh--"

The praise only makes you more excited, and you find yourself starting to grind on her wing-tip Oxford's, whining on her cock. She doesn't notice, too distracted by your mouth, she starts to roughly fuck your face, hold you steady as she bucks her hips.

You feel her tense, and you whine, pushing yourself down all the way as she cums down your throat. The noise you make is depraved, and she responds with a low, gutteral groan, holding you down and breathing heavily.

Finally, she let's you up, her seed dripping down your chin from what you couldn't swallow. She takes her finger and runs it up your chin, gathering up the string that's fallen out, and shoves it in your mouth.

"Good fucking girl, perfect for Mommy... Now, clean her off."

You lick and suck at the tip of her limp cock, cleaning off all of the cum you can before putting her dick away. You're still grinding on her shoe, not even really thinking about it, but you're making noises that tip her off, and now that you're not choking on her cock you notice how close you are.

"Aww, little slut got so worked up she couldn't help herself, huh?"

You nod, whining and holding onto her leg.

"Are you close, doll?"

You nod again.

"Go ahead baby, keep going. I want you to cum for Mommy, okay? Just keep going and say Mommy's name when you cum, doll"

You nod again, quickly and appreciatively, grinding and whimpering as you feel your orgasm flood closer. You manage to whine out a single word as you cum, ruining yourself in her office.

"Mnhhh- Mm-Monmy--!!"

She pets your hair and smiles down at you, clearly pleased at your obedience as you ruin yourself on her shoe.

Well, now there's a problem. You're panting and shaking on the floor, covered in her cum and your own, and you still have another 3 hours of work.

"You can clean up in my office's bathroom, darling, take your time. I want you to finish out the day in that skirt, though. Some people have been getting a little too friendly with my doll, and they need to be reminded who you belong to."

You mumble out a slurred "Yes Mommy" as you sit limp against her leg, catching your breath.

Something tells you this isn't a one time deal.

[drewswife]

summary — while getting ready for a case with the team your crush spencer walks in with a new haircut and ur a mess

pairings — pining!reader x oblivious!spencer

warnings — fluff, garcia and morgan being a tease, you are pining and being very obvious about ur crush and use of y/n

The bullpen was a familiar hum of activity, a comforting chaos of keyboards clacking, phones ringing, and the low murmur of conversations. You, however, were a hurricane of barely contained panic. Today was the day you were presenting the preliminary findings for the "Silver Serpent" case, a particularly nasty serial killer who left behind cryptic riddles and a trail of victims. And while the case itself was enough to tie your stomach in knots, there was another, far more pressing issue at hand.

You glanced at your reflection in the darkened computer screen. Your hair, usually a cooperative entity, had decided to stage a rebellion this morning, escaping its ponytail in frizzy tendrils around your face. The dark circles under your eyes, a testament to another night spent poring over case files, seemed to have deepened into permanent fixtures. And your shirt, which had seemed perfectly acceptable when you'd stumbled out of bed, now felt… lopsided. You sighed, defeat settling heavy on your shoulders. You were, in short, a mess.

"Rough morning, Y/N?" Garcia's voice, bright and teasing as always, cut through your self-pity. She sauntered over, a mischievous glint in her eyes, a giant, novelty mug clutched in her hand. "Looks like you wrestled a badger and lost."

You grumbled, running a hand through your rebellious hair. "Something like that. This Silver Serpent is really getting to me."

"Or," Morgan chimed in, leaning against the doorframe of your office, a smirk playing on his lips, "is it the anticipation of a certain doctor gracing us with his presence?"

You felt a blush creep up your neck. Garcia giggled, a sound that usually charmed but now felt like a thousand tiny needles. You shot them both a glare that held no real heat. "You two are impossible."

"We just care, Y/N," Garcia said, though her grin betrayed her. "We want you to look your best for… professional reasons, of course."

"Of course," Morgan echoed, winking.

Just then, as if summoned by their teasing, the glass doors to the bullpen swished open. Your breath hitched.

Spencer.

He walked in, head held high, a stack of books precariously balanced in one arm, a steaming mug in the other. He was wearing his usual tweed jacket, a little rumpled but charmingly so. And then you saw it.

His hair.

oh god his hair

It was shorter, neatly trimmed around his ears, the curls still there but more defined, framing his face in a way that highlighted his sharp cheekbones and intelligent eyes. It looked… good. Really, really good. And suddenly, your own disheveled appearance felt even more glaring.

Hotch, who had just entered the bullpen, paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Spencer's new look. A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Reid," he said, his voice a low rumble that carried across the room, "what? Did you join a boy band?"

A few heads turned, and a couple of agents chuckled. Spencer, however, seemed oblivious, or perhaps chose to ignore it.

Garcia and Morgan exchanged a look, their grins widening impossibly. You could practically hear their silent commentary: Exhibit A: The object of Y/N's affections. Exhibit B: Y/N's immediate meltdown.

Spencer, still oblivious to the silent drama unfolding around him, made his way to his desk, setting down his books with a soft thud. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours. A small smile touched his lips. "Good morning, Y/N."

"M-morning, Spencer," you stammered, feeling your cheeks flush even deeper. You busied yourself with shuffling papers on your desk, pretending to be intensely focused on the case files.

"So," Garcia whispered, leaning closer, "new haircut, huh? I wonder who he's trying to impress."

Morgan hummed in agreement. "Definitely trying something new. And it's working."

You ignored them, or at least tried to. Your mind, however, was a whirlwind of self-deprecating thoughts. He probably thinks I look like I slept in a dumpster. He's so put-together, and I'm… this.

The team gathered for the briefing, and you found yourself inexplicably seated across from Spencer. Every time he shifted, every time he ran a hand through his newly shorn hair, you felt a jolt. You tried to concentrate on Hotch's calm, authoritative voice, on the details of the Silver Serpent's latest taunt, but your gaze kept drifting.

"Y/N," Hotch said, his voice cutting through your reverie, "your thoughts on the psychological profile of the unsub?"

You blinked, scrambling to pull your thoughts together. "Right. Uh… the unsub seems to be highly intelligent, meticulous, and derives pleasure from intellectual superiority. The riddles are designed to challenge law enforcement, to showcase his own cleverness." You managed to articulate the points, but your voice felt a little shaky.

Spencer nodded, his eyes on you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I agree. The narcissistic tendencies are quite pronounced. The choice of 'Silver Serpent' suggests a desire for both cunning and a certain refined elegance in his crimes."

Your heart did a little flutter-kick. He agreed with you.

As the briefing wrapped up, Garcia caught your eye and mouthed, 'Good job, Y/N! Even when you're distracted by pretty boys.' You narrowed your eyes at her, but a small, involuntary smile tugged at your lips.

Later, as you were packing up your bag, Spencer approached your desk. Your stomach did another nervous flip.

"Y/N," he began, his voice soft, "I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss something related to the Silver Serpent case?"

"Of course," you said, trying to sound professional and not like your brain had just short-circuited.

"I've been reviewing some of the symbolism in his riddles, and I had a thought about the recurring motif of the ouroboros. I believe it might represent a cyclical nature to his crimes, perhaps tied to a specific date or anniversary." He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "I know you've been working tirelessly on the psychological profile, and your insights have been invaluable."

You felt a warmth spread through you. He valued your insights. He'd noticed your hard work. And he was standing so close, his new haircut making him look even more… approachable.

"That's a really interesting theory, Spencer," you managed, your voice a little breathy. "I hadn't considered the ouroboros in that context, but it makes a lot of sense given his desire for intellectual dominance."

He smiled, a genuine, open smile that made your knees feel a little weak. "Perhaps we could go over some of the historical and mythological interpretations of the ouroboros later? I have a few books that might shed some light on it."

"I'd like that," you said, perhaps a little too eagerly.

As Spencer turned to head back to his desk, you saw Garcia and Morgan giving you twin thumbs-ups from across the bullpen. You rolled your eyes, but a genuine smile finally broke through your earlier anxiety.

🏷, @sleepysongbirdsings @spencerreid66 @khxna @raysmayhem-72 @multiversefanfics @starrii-sturns

[aardvaark]

technically sort of true things harry could potentially tell his mom that aren’t "i’m working with a team of thieves now":

"i do pro bono/volunteer work - using my legal knowledge and experience - for an international organisation which helps people seek justice from exploitative employers" (very true, sounds very reasonable, but why not spice it up a little?)

small theatre productions of original plays for private audiences

"well it’s not worse than what i was doing before, soooo…"

show her a picture of the Old Nate portrait and tell her thats the founder of the company

"have you ever heard of robin hood?"

joined a very intense improv class

working with some very high profile people and companies, naturally it’s all very confidential

"sophie provides advice for the people we work with. she’s… a consultant."

cosplay (explains the costumes)

"you know how i used to fix rich people’s problems? well, it’s kind of the other way around now."

criminal justice

financial planning

"thats classified"

helping to settle legal matters out of court

"breanna does the tech work, so does hardison when he’s available, though he’s often travelling to help manage other teams. to be honest i don’t really understand all the computer stuff so i can’t explain it."

"parker’s part of the work largely involves finances."

well, it definitely has a lot to do with the law!

"we provide… leverage"

[science-hoes]

Gorgeous

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: language, objectifying an old man, the slightest mention of smut, this was very self indulgent so I do apologize if y’all don’t care for it

Description: Robby loses in fantasy football and pays up. Somehow, his loss is making your life a lot more difficult.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—

There weren’t many times that the night and day shift united aside from real emergencies. Well, depending on who you asked, this was a real emergency.

“Where is he?” Shen murmured, holding onto his backpack, wearily leaning against the high counter of the desk hub.

Jack checked his watch. “He’s got about three minutes before I show up at his house after work and finish the job myself. And I won’t do a good job.” He threatened.

There was a thrill in the room, similar to the countdown to Near Years. Except that was a few weeks ago. Dana crossed her arms. “Do you think we can sedate him and do it? Technically, he already gave prior consent when the season started.” She noted.

Mel walked up to the mass of nurses and doctors starting at the entrance to the Pitt, slowing her pace at the oddity. “What’s going on?” She asked.

Langdon waved her over, and she happily met him next to a computer station. “Our fantasy football season ended a few weeks ago. It’s time for the Loser to pay up.” He explained.

Mel tilted her head. “Pay up? Is everyone here waiting for money?” She asked.

Santos shook her head. “No. This is better than money.” She replied.

“Priceless.” Collins chipped in.

You weren’t aware of the barricade of healthcare providers protecting the desk hub as you walked through the entrance of the Pitt. When the doors swung open to reveal you, bundled in your pink winter coat, everyone let out a disappointed groan.

You froze in your tracks, offended by the greeting. “Good morning to everyone, too.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Dana shook her head and threw an arm around your shoulders. “No, sweetie, it’s not you. We’re waiting for the Loser.” She explained.

You smiled slightly, not sure what she was talking about. “Who’s the Loser?” You asked.

Ellis grinned and pointed to the door as it swung open. “Him.”

Robby walked through the entrance, wrapped in his black winter coat, backpack slung over his shoulders, and his camping gaiter covering the upper half of his face. Only his dark chocolate eyes and swooping faux hawk were visible.

Jack shook his head. “Oh, fuck no. Take that shit off your face.” He demanded.

Everyone made similar remarks, commanding Robby to pull off the face cover.

Robby rolled his eyes and reached a hand to the edge of the fabric near his cheek. “Before I do this, just know that I hate every single one of you.” He grumbled.

But he still hesitated. Chants of “take it off” began, starting with Langdon and progressing through the rest of the staff. You watched intently, curious what the big deal was.

With a final sigh of defeat, Robby yanked the gaiter down. The Pitt erupted with screams, laughter, and cheers. But you were frozen. There he was. Your senior attending whom you had an unbearable crush on. Who you took months to get used to without embarrassing yourself or showing your intense attraction. Who you thought about when you were alone at night.

Clean-shaven. Not a trace of the forest of facial hair that was there yesterday. Moments ago, with his face covered, you knew exactly who he was. But now? He looked like a stranger.

“I can’t tell if you look older or younger.” Shen managed to say in between waves of laughter.

Robby’s mouth pulled into a straight line, a movement once concealed behind facial hair now overexpressed. “I don’t want anyone ever saying I’m no good on my bets.” He demanded.

Jack cackled as he made his way towards Robby to pat him on the shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve seen your jaw line in 20 years, brother.” He noted.

And, oh my God, you swear Robby had a pout on his face as his friends harassed him. That straight line turned downward into a real frown. There were only a few people who actually had a downward frown, and apparently, he was one of them.

Dana had tears in her eyes from laughter. She wiped a stray one from the corner of her eye. “I haven’t seen this man since Hurricane Katrina.” She recalled.

Langdon’s eyes were just blown wide in horror. “It feels inappropriate to look at him. It’s like he’s naked.” His voice was monotone.

Your eyes were riveted on Robby. His eyes were distant, taking the punches as they came. It was better to get it all out of the way before the shift started. His face was turning red with… embarrassment? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but the color change was way more obvious without his peppered beard to hide most of his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grumbled, taking a step to the lockers.

But when everyone whipped out their phones and followed his advice, blocking his escape to the doctors lounge, he threw his head back in exasperation.

“If any of these pictures end up on social media, so help me God.” He hissed.

—

Your shift got off to a great start, but your positive streak could not last in the eyes of the emergency department gods. After a couple of pleasant, simple patient cases, you were assigned to Myrna. There was no issue at first. You took her patient history and evaluated her vitals. She had been brought in after a seizure and, of course, consuming an unknown cocktail of drugs. Same as usual.

“Alright, Myrna. Let me get an IV in you.” You mumbled, sorting the IV supplies on a metal tray.

Myrna groaned in a dramatic fashion, slumping in her wheelchair. “Great, let the fucking intern do it.” She mourned to nobody in particular.

You rolled your eyes as you tightened the blue elastic tourniquet on her arm, hoping that you would be able to find a vein in her used arms.

“I’ve started an IV on you before.” You mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “And it took you five fucking sticks.” She hissed.

You shrugged. “If you stopped shooting up drugs, I wouldn’t have such a hard time finding a vein.” You replied with as much kindness as you could muster.

She laughed, throwing her head back against the wheelchair. “You’re a spicy one.” She complimented. “Consider me a teaching opportunity. That’s what Fruitcake calls me, anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow as you cleaned a poor excuse of a vein on her forearm with an alcohol wipe. “Fruitcake?” You questioned.

“You know who I mean. The tall one with the beard and-YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Myrna recoiled when you slid the tapered IV needle into her skin, grabbing the metal tray and hurling it at you.

“Jesus, Myrna!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms up to protect yourself from the airborne IV supplies.

The metal tray fell to the floor with a loud clang. In a flash, Dana and Robby were by your side to help you.

“You’re supposed to tell me when you’re gonna stick!” Myrna defended herself.

Robby pushed you behind him defensively as he got closer to Myrna. “What did I tell you about harassing my interns?” He questioned, a sternness in his voice that made even you shiver.

Myrna didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Robby. “Holy shit. Is that you, Fruitcake?” She asked.

Dana began to pick up the supplies that landed on the floor. “Myrna, don’t throw shit. Or we’ll throw you out.” She warned.

Myrna waved her off and returned her attention to Robby. “Looks like you didn’t finish baking.” She teased.

“Thanks.” Robby deadpanned as he turned around to look at you.

Despite Myrna being handcuffed, you were still a little shaken by the incident. His lips pulled into a wide line on his face, his upper lip flattening. Usually, he would just ask if you were okay, to which you would say yes, and that would be that. But instead, he placed a guiding hand on your back and took you to an empty room. When the door shut behind him, he faced you, arms crossed over his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

“When you have a hostile patient like that, you need to ask for help, okay?” He lectured.

The way his lips moved when he spoke was enchanting. His bottom lip thicker than the top, shaping every word with precision that you hadn’t noticed before. Like maybe you had assumed that he had been cutting corners when he spoke with his beard. The freckles that dusted his nose seemed to reach farther down his cheeks than you realized. And the way his zygomatic arches at his cheeks looked like they were sculpted by Michelangelo himself…

Fuck, you had to look away. He was so gorgeous. There was no reason that a man nearly twice your age should have that effect on you. You scolded yourself internally for being so mesmerized by him, but then you wondered how that smooth face would feel between your…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your eyes widened, and your cheeks surely flushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Then look at me.” He demanded, voice tinged with authority.

Fuck. You hesitated, deciding if hiding your crush was worth the reprimand you would receive. Your eyes were focused on your hands, anxiously picking at the cuticles.

“I will not tell you again.” Robby’s voice was sharper now, threatening almost.

You clenched your eyes shut and buried your face in your hands. “I’m sorry, it’s just���I can’t look at you.” You confessed.

A silent beat. “Why?”

A disgruntled breath left your lungs. “Because you shaved.”

An awkward silence followed. That wasn’t exactly the response he expected, but Robby matched your irritated exhale. “Look, I know it looks bad. That’s why I don’t shave. But that’s no reason-“

You snapped your head up, eyes blown wide. “No, no! It looks good! It looks too good.” You cut him off.

Robby froze, and the annoyed face that you were initially met with began to soften. His slackened jaw relaxed, and his lips twitched at the edges. “Too good?” He repeated.

You felt your stomach jump to your throat as you realized the trap you had set for yourself. Tell your boss that he’s hot or that you were lying to get out of a lecture? Either path seemed like a dead end. Where you might actually end up dead regardless of the decision. “It’s just that…you look like a different person.” You confessed.

His lips were pulled into that long, straight line that you had seen this morning. Beginning to turn down in a real frown. “…so I looked bad before?” He concluded.

You groaned in frustration, tossing your head back, clenching your eyes shut. “Oh, gosh, Robby. You’re a very handsome man, and it was already hard for me to look at you without becoming a mess. I used to think, ‘it’s a good thing he has a beard because there’s no way he would look good clean-shaven.’ Then you come in, all baby-faced, and it’s like I relapsed on fucking heroin.” Your word vomit was too much to clean up now.

When you didn’t hear any words, a disappointed sigh, or even the characteristic sound of his short nails scratching his neck, you thought he had left the room to avoid an awkward conversation that involved telling his resident that he did not find her attractive. So you opened your eyes, expecting no trace of your attending, but there he was.

Smiling.

Smiling at you.

And you felt an unexpected weakness in your knees. It was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Not a grin, but certainly the last line of defense. His lips pulled impossibly wide on his face, his cheeks folding into smile lines to make room. Those lines framed his mouth like priceless artwork.

You felt self-conscious now. He must have been amused at your naivety. You definitely weren’t the first resident to obsess over that man. “Why are you smiling?” You questioned defensively.

Robby let out a chuckle that evaporated the stress in your mind. “I have a pretty young girl telling me that I look handsome. How can I not smile?”

Oh.

You closed the distance between the two of you. Your hands found purchase on his chest, which puffed out at the touch. “Pretty young?” You questioned, a playfulness in your eyes. “Or pretty and young?”

Robby reached for one of your hands on his chest, wrapping it in his own. “Pretty and young.” He confirmed. And this time, he showed off those pretty teeth, imperfect in all the right ways, the smile lines stretching almost all the way back to his ears.

Your free hand lifted, and your fingers hovered in front of his face as if they were not a part of your own body, like his smooth jawline was a magnet. Despite your bravery to touch his chest, you found yourself shying away now. “I’m- I’m sorry.” You stuttered, retracting your hand.

But Robby snatched your wrist with a firm gentleness. Slowly, he brought it closer to his face again, inviting you to touch. Your index finger grazed the contour of his cheekbone, met with not a hint of friction. His breath staggered, and you caught him fluttering his eyes at your electric touch. Like you were inching into a freezing pool of water, you cautiously added more of your hand to grace his skin.

“You’re so pretty.” You whispered.

Robby sputtered out a sheepish laugh, his lips stretching into that boyish grin that deepened every line on his aging face. “Pretty?” He repeated.

You nodded, now palming his jaw. Years ago, you were sure, it was probably cut sharp, but now the elasticity of his skin made it more mature and soft. “I’ve seen that picture of you. From the 90s. The one in the hallway. You looked like a TV show heartthrob.” You noted. “I could never convince myself that it was you, but now I can.”

His face continued to redden, the heat seeping all the way to the tips of his ears. There was no way to hide his blushing now. His head turned slightly in your grasp, his lips brushing against your palm, parting slightly as they dragged. Your thumb traced his lips and dragged his thick bottom lip, rolling it down slightly to expose his teeth. He let out the softest moan, almost a whimper. Your eyes locked with his, and the desperation was palpable.

“I feel like I’m cheating on my crush.” You finally admitted, letting your thumb linger on his mouth.

Robby’s lips pulled to one side in a half smile, but it looked almost like a full blown smile compared to what you were used to seeing behind his beard. “I’m your crush?” He questioned, like he was waiting to see if you had also lost a bet.

You laughed at the ridiculous question and looked up at the fluorescent lights. “I’m struggling to hold your eye contact right now because you’re so fucking gorgeous.” You replied.

Those ceiling lights blinded you from what came next. You could only see Robby’s hairline, but then you felt the warmth on your mouth. From his mouth. Maybe you didn’t register it at first because in all of your fantasies, you expected his kiss to be rough with scratches from his dense beard. Your tongue would graze the facial hair around his lips, burning your chin as he moved.

But this kiss felt so clean. So raw. So…exposed. Like insulation from a wire had been pulled away, leaving nothing but the full power of his mouth. You raised your free hand to his face now, seeking proof that the other side was just as smooth and soft. One of his arms snaked around your waist, and his free hand latched onto the back of your scalp.

Feeling emboldened by the returned affections, you moved your lips away from his and kissed the hollow of his cheeks, trailing down to his jaw. Robby shuddered at the sensation, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth.

You giggled as you continued to worship his face with hot, open-mouth kisses. “You okay?” You teased.

He chuckled, but it was a higher pitch than you were used to hearing. “I haven’t…” He stuttered as you added more kisses to the underside of his chin, crossing to the other side of his face. “Nobody’s…” He struggled to find the right words as your soft, wet lips dragged across his skin. “You’re the first person in 20 years to kiss the skin on my lower face.” He finally managed to say.

You sucked gently at the angle of his mandible, savoring the taste of his elastic skin on your tongue, releasing soon after to protect him from a damning mark. “I’m honored.” You replied with a gentle tease.

Robby grabbed your face to hold you still, and you let out a bratty whimper of frustration that he had stopped your expedition. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip in thought. “We have to get back to work.” He reminded you, but the authority in his voice was dwindling.

Your eyebrows drew together in disappointment, but you could see in the way his lips were just slightly curved up that he didn’t want to leave you. You could read him before, but now he was as transparent as water.

“Okay.” You sighed dramatically and began to pull away from his grasp. “Guess I’ll just finish out my shift and head home. Alone.”

You turned away from Robby, but before you did, you saw him bite his bottom lip, anxious that he had just fucked everything up. His hands had grasped for your body, a little too late, and you were out of his reach. Hook, line, and sinker. Then you turned your head over your shoulder, just enough to meet his overly wide brown eyes, and smirked.

“Unless you wanna come along?” You added in a sing-songy lilt.

Robby’s face changed in an instant, breaking into that wide smile that you were becoming quickly addicted to. The kind of smile that could stop people dead on a sidewalk when he passed by. The kind of smile that people wrote songs about. The kind of smile that could light up a room in a hurricane.

And it was all for you.

“I’ll see you after work.” You confirmed for him.

Robby chuckled, a look of disbelief at your audacity washing over his face. “I didn’t say yes.” He retorted.

You smirked. “You didn’t have to. Your smile gave it away.” You opened the door to the rest of the emergency department, taking a step out. “You better watch that face. Can’t hide behind your beard anymore.”

And you disappeared back into the chaos. Robby remained in the room, smiling still to himself. He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip again. For the first time ever, he was glad that he lost in fantasy football.

—

A/N: Thank y’all for dealing with my slight obsession with clean-shaven Robby. I couldn’t help myself, Noah is just such a cutie.

[bloomzone]

STUDY SYSTEM : DAILY STUDY ROUTINE ( EXAM EDITION)

hii looves so this blog is all abt how to optimizing your day for peak academic performance. This four-part daily system is the exact routine used during exam season especially finals to consistently achieve top grades with minimal stress. While the routine may appear complex at first glance it is built upon simple, intuitive principles rooted in human biology and psychology. It is not only practical but highly effective when followed consistently. You’ll learn to structure your day around ur natural energy cycles, use tools to boost focus, and incorporate essential periods of rest and release to maintain motivation and productivity.

SECTION 1: UNDERSTANDING UR ENERGY RHYTHM

The routine is built around the concept of the circadian rhythm, your body’s natural energy cycle throughout the day. On a standard day for example :

Energy peaks shortly after waking typically around 6:00 AM.

Energy dips mid-afternoon often around 2:30 or 3:00 PM.

A secondary energy peak occurs in the evening approximately around 7:00 PM.

Energy tapers off as bedtime approaches.

This predictable fluctuation is key to optimizing your study schedule. The two energy peaks will be your core study sessions, while the dip will be used as a rest period, and the late-night wind-down becomes your release period or bedtime .

SECTION 2: THE MORNING STUDY SESSION (STUDY SESSION #1)

◜⁠✧ Start Within One Hour of Waking Up

Your goal is to begin studying as soon as possible after waking, ideally within the first hour. Use the high energy of the morning to tackle your most challenging subjects.do ur morning routine quick as possible don't do intense workout or stuff like this cuz u will waste ur energy so always have a specific morning routine for days like these ! And u can workout go to the gym or whatever at the rest period !

Pre-Study Essentials:

1. Set Your Daily Goals (5 minutes)

Before starting, sit with a notebook or your computer and write down what you intend to accomplish. Be specific. Define exact tasks e.g. which past papers you’ll solve, which topics to review so u will be more organized during the day

2. Activate Focus with Three Optional Tools:

Caffeine — coffee, yerba mate, or tea to boost dopamine and adrenaline.

Cold Showers — a physiological wake-up that increases alertness (personally I don't do that lmao but if u can that's good !)

Focus Warm-up (1–2 minutes) — pick a point in your environment and concentrate on it intensely. This warms up your cognitive focus system before you start.

◜⁠✧Deep Work Sprint Format

Commit to a 2–4 hour study block.

Use timed work intervals: e.g., 25–30 minutes of focused work followed by 5-minute breaks.

Use a visual timer to create urgency and focus. This serves as a “deadline generator,” helping you push harder and maintain hope by offering visible progress.

─ ⊹key principle: work Like a warrior

Study in focused sprints. The more intense your focus, the less time you’ll need to study. The idea is depth over duration not 12 hours of mediocre attention, but 2–4 hours of deep concentration.

SECTION 3: MIDDAY REST PERIOD

Timing: After First Study Block Ends (~Early Afternoon)

At this point in the day, your energy naturally dips. It’s essential to give yourself permission to rest. This period is not for distractions like Netflix, YouTube, or social media.

◜⁠✧ Approved Activities:

Exercise or light sports

Socializing with friends/family

Taking a walk, especially outdoors

Napping (ideal: 20 minutes)

The goal here is active recovery choose activities that contrast focused work. Avoid anything with dopamine stimulation that mimics your “vices” or release behaviors.so this break allows your mind to reset, preventing burnout and increasing productivity in the next session.

SECTION 4: EVENING STUDY SESSION (STUDY SESSION #2)

Timing: During the Second Energy Peak (~6:00–8:00 PM)

Return for your second battle. This session is similar in structure to the morning study session, but with a few differences:

◜⁠✧ Change Your Environment:

Consider studying in a different location e.g., library, a new room, or another productive setting. (Personally I move from my desk to the guest room cuz it's far from family chaotic activities ifykyk )

This provides novelty and reduces boredom, which helps counteract distractions that are more likely to arise in the evening.

◜⁠✧ Eliminate Distractions:

If possible, leave your phone behind take that shit in another room

Create a space where your brain associates the environment with productivity.

◜⁠✧ Study Format:

Continue using timed sprints.

Session length: 2 to 3 hours, depending on your focus reserves.

The goal is to extract one final productive effort from your remaining focus reserves for the day.

SECTION 5: NIGHTLY RELEASE PERIOD

Timing: 1–2 Hours Before Bed

This period is crucial and often overlooked. It functions as your psychological release valve a scheduled time for indulging in your “vices” or desires.

◜⁠✧ why it matter

Without a controlled release period, distractions tend to creep in throughout the day. When you tell yourself you’ll “resist” TikTok or YouTube for three straight weeks during exams, it almost always backfires. You end up scattering distractions across the day, killing momentum and u will feel like shit

◜⁠✧ so solution:

Contain those activities to this specific window. Give yourself full permission to indulge whether it's gaming, scrolling, or Netflix. The only rule: Only do it at night.

◜⁠✧ psychological benefit:

You’ll find it easier to say “no” to distractions earlier in the day when you know you can give in later. It reduces the mental burden of constant suppression.

Caution:

This is not a prescription to develop new addictions or deepen existing ones. If you don’t feel the need for this release, skip it . But if you’re honest with yourself about your impulses, this structure helps you keep them in check.

◜⁠✧ ADAPTATION AND FLEXIBILITY

✧ Everyone has a unique biology. Some wake up at 5:00 AM, others at noon.

✧ Adjust the energy curve and study blocks to match your personal circadian rhythm.

✧ This is a template, not a strict prescription. Principles stay constant, execution varies.

KEY TAKEAWAYS:

🗝️ Two deep-focus sessions aligned with your body’s energy peaks yield greater results than dragging your mind across a 12-hour marathon.

🗝️ Midday rest and nightly release are components of a sustainable routine.

🗝️ Use tools like caffeine, timers, environment changes, and goal setting to maintain momentum and focus.

🗝️ Structure breeds freedom. When your day is mapped with intention, your brain is free to focus trust me with this one

✧ This daily routine is not about rigid hours or perfection. It’s about aligning your habits with your biology and respecting your mental bandwidth. When implemented consistently, this system transforms exam season from a stressful grind into an enjoyable and productive challenge.Now take what you've learned and design your daily routine with intention ✧

@bloomzone

[xnalux]

streamergf!vi hcs

part 1 part 3

warnings: none, fem!reader

pictures are from pinterest and they're not mine

streamergfvi: before your relationship was oficcially out she made sure to always post pics on her ig to hint she was clearly taken.

@/vistandsforviolence: sucks to be you ;)

@sevikunt: the girl is a paid actor

@vistansforviolence: go suck a dick

but after she actually announced her relationship to her community she made sure to floods her socials with pictures of you two together she took on past dates or just candind pictures of you (she totally made an album titled ''baby'' the first time she met you in person where she kept all the pictures she ever took of you). Everytime she snatch a picture of you, she usually does it when you are in the worst conditions ever, and you ask her to delete it she just pouts at you.

''but you look so cute baby''

In the end she never deletes the picture.

streamergfvi: who plays on streams every indie games you recommend to her. Her followers are sick of it because she always ends up never sticking to her streaming schedule.

''All right guys, i know we were supposed to play resident evil tonight but...''

and the chat goes wild

@/piltegoth: dude not again

@/chadjayce: you are such a loser for pussy is embarassing

@/Ekk0: weakest butch on the internet tbh

streamergfvi: who when she is not streaming she's probably lost tinkering with some gadget or tech. you find her, more often tha not, in her room cross legged on the floor, hands stained with grease and a look of intense focus on her face that's utterly adorable. She doesn’t ever notice you till you stand right in front of her frame hovering over a half opened computer (yes she totally works on the floor).

''babe?''

she raises her head and her eyes totally brighten seeing you in front of her

''baby you're earlier you were supposed to be here at...''

she takes a look at the her wrist clock face (she wears a clock, it's hot) realising you are definitely not early and she totally lost track of time again.

''shit i'm sorry, the little shit was acting up again and…i'll quickly get ready for our date...''

she ramble getting up and you totally don't give a shit that she is late because her hands are covered in grease, and her muscles are in full view, little droplets of sweat glistening her skin, you thanks whoever invented tank top.

she shuts up only when you surprise her with a kiss, her hands comiung up to grab your waist as she pulls you closer to kiss you back.

''what was that for?''

she smirks at you when you pull away a little breathless. your arms around her neck.

''you look hot''

you just smile at her

''oh you think i'm hot all sweaty and covered in grease?’'

she teases you pulling you closer to her by your waist, one of her hand coming up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear.

''you are gonna get my hair all greasy''

you giggle trying to get out of her grip. It usually ends up with her throwig you on her bed tickling you as you try to block her hands.

''just wait till i wash my hands''

streamergfvi: who has undiagnosed adhd and sometimes when you sleep over she wakes you up in the middle of the night still high on one too many energy drinks because she played a new game during her stream and literally can't wait till morning to show it to you. the only light in the room the one coming from her computer still on on her desk even tho she turned off her stream half an hour ago.

''baby are u asleep?''

You blink the sleep from your eyes and look at her, the picture of confusion and endearment. "What?"

"You've gotta see this! It's like someone took everything I love about games and put it into one amazing package!" she continues, her words tumbling over each other like a rock slide

''love it's 3am''

she gently grabs your wrist to pull you from the sweet cocoon of her bed

"I know pretty, but I just beat the first boss and I can't wait for you to see it!''

you end up cuddled in her lap on her gaming chair as she dives into the game rambling about all the cool stuffs you can do.

streamergfvi: who whenever she's got a new game that allows character customization makes sure to create a second one that looks like you. And it doesn't matter if she is on stream and her chat nags her to hurry the fuck up and just play the fucking game.

@/piltiesniperc: it's been 20 minutes

@/getjinxed: dude it literally looks just like her wtf

@/vistandsforvirgin: start the fucking game and stop being so gay

''just... almost done the lips are bugging me''

streamergfvi: who lets you put all kinds of stickers on her gaming set up and bought matching joystick and matching keychains and matching t-shirt. She literally loves matching shit.

streamergfvi: who thinks it's a good idea to let you cut her hair on stream. you stand there while she waves a pair of cooking scissors in front of the camera because ''scissors are scissors, they are gonna work just fine''.

''hello guys, today my pretty girlfriend is gonna cut my hair''

that's how you end up improvising yourself as an hair-stylist, almost poking one of her eyes out in the process because she can't sit still.

@/piltiesniperc: this is not what a meant when i said i liked lesbians scissoring

@/Ekk0: this is priceless

@/viktorious: omg i love when lesbians:

vi looks at herself in the camera moving her face from side to side, you definitely cut them shorter than expected and it's clear the haircut is uneven.

@/getjinxed: shit you look like a wet racoon, i need to see this irl

@/sevikunt: dumbest butch on the internet

as powder storms in vi room your eyes lingers on vi face and you just ask yourself how is it possible she looks even hotter than before.

''a wet racoon?''

vi asks offendend turning her gaming chair towards powder, who get closer to vi’s face with a little bounce in her walk and flashes her with her phone camera

''omg i need to show vander, you look ridicolous''

vi pouts turning to you

''do I really look like a wet racoon?''

and you can't help but giggle as you pull her from the back of her neck in a little kiss before whispering something in her ear, something that makes her cheeks flush and her lips curl upwards in a little smirks as she get up from her seat lifting you by your waist to get the both of you out of frame. The sounds of kisses and gigglies filling the room as powder quickly get in front of the camera.

''disgusting''

powder groan as she turn off the stream and sprint out of vi's room.

streamergfvi: who comes up with the most random questions. one minute, she'll ask about the plot of a game you’ve played a hundred times; the next, she'll muse on the theoretical physics of a game's universe. Her curiosity knows no bounds, and she's not afraid to dive deep into the rabbit hole of "what ifs" and "but whys" that often lead to the most entertaining conversations.

"Hey babe, do you think aliens would be into streaming games? What do you think their internet setup would look like?"

"If I started a podcast about the history of pencils, would you be my first listener?"

"What would happen if we tried to stream underwater?''

"Do you think I can teach myself to play the guitar while I'm streaming? It'll be fine, I've watched like three YouTube tutorials already."

''would you still love me if i had a third boob in the middle of my forehead?''

and the list could go on forever

streamergfvi: who hates being sick because she needs to stay put and just rest and she hates that but she kinda likes having you as her personal nurse. she wraps you both in a burrito of blankets, her hot skin flushing against yours as she tries to warm up her hands under your shirt.

''I'm gonna die''

she groans in the crook of your neck, her voice gruff due to her aching throat. you pepper small kisses over her head holding her close.

''your temperature is 37.7 baby, you are not gonna die''

you giggle endeared by your girlfriend anticts. she rases her head from your neck and look you dead serious in the eyes.

''i think i'm having auditory hallucinations''

she says and you know she is gonna say something stupid but you can't help yourself from asking anyway

''oh yeah? and what are they telling you?''

she smile playful at you, her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed because of her fever

''that my only chance of surviving this is hide myself between your tits''

and she tucks her head under your shirt as you burst in a fit of giggles.

streamergfvi: who when you are the one sick drops everything she is doing to come to your house. A bag fulls of medicines and your favorites things which include your fav hoodie of hers because she knows it gives you comfort to wear it. she makes sure you are wrapped in as many blankets as she can finds before going to cook you soup and ends up spoon-feeding you while you watch the office.

''just another one pretty, you are doing so good''

she peppers your face with kissed even tho you remind her she is gonna get sick too

''i don't care, just pass all your sickness to me so you can get well''

and brush your teeth after you've thrown up before drawing you a bath and gently massages you shoulders.

streamergfvi: who’s love language is physical touch. And it's not just about the typical cuddling and kissing.

For her, it's about the little things that often go unnoticed, the constant reassurances of presence and connection.

when she's in the middle of a gaming marathon and you are sitting next to her, her love manifests in a gentle head pat, a playful nudge.

the way she always plays with your hair while you're watching a movie, or the constant need to have some part of her body touching yours while you both lay in bed.

And oh, the way she holds you. It's like she's trying to contain a tornado in her arms, strong, yet gentle.

Her love is the way she squeezes your hand tightly during a suspenseful moment in a game stream, transferring her excitement directly to you.

It's the gentle touch of her fingers tracing patterns on your skin when she's lost in thought, or the firm grip of her hand on your thigh when she's trying to focus and needs you as her grounding force.

It's the subtle brush of her hand against your leg while you sit side by side, the way she grabs yours during a particularly intense plot twist in your favorite show, and the warm pressure of her fingers on your back as she guides you through a crowded room. It's the way she kisses you goodbye, like she's trying to leave a piece of herself behind to keep you company until she returns.

Her love is a bit like her streaming setup, a little messy, a bit haphazard but genuine and raw and you wouldn't have it any other way.

an: I had so much fun writing this so let me know if you would like a part 3. Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read and interact with the part one, i got surprised by all the attention it got <3

I took inspiration from this beautiful art piece for the hair-cut part so credits to @ClaraDeArte on twitter

[cbeargyu]

hentai

summary: yangyang is a pervert, always looking for any chance to satisfy his dirtiest desires — but he didn’t expect you were on your way to catch him...

pairing: perv!yangyang x fem!reader

genre: smut, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving & m receiving), filming, light dom/sub dynamics, playful teasing.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), language, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, use of camera/recording during sexual act, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, consent implied but not extensively discussed, semi-public implications (camera), soft dom!yangyang, submissive reader moments, mention of fluids, NSFW themes — minors do not interact.

wc: 4,23K

notes: i had this fic in my drafts for a while, but i hadn't finished it. however, i spent the weekend with my boyfriend and didn’t have a chance to continue it, but i’m back now, and here it is😁🫶🏻🔥🩷

hentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentai

it was saturday night.

yangyang had stayed home that weekend while his friends were out—partying, on dates, or god knows where. he preferred the solitude, the silence of his dark room, the soft hum of his computer screen lighting up his face.

he felt hot. needy. it had been a while since he was this alone—and just the thought of it turned him on even more.

his fingers slowly traced the growing bulge between his thighs while his right hand worked the mouse with precision, scrolling through adult sites, searching for the video that would finally ease the burning tension in his gut.

he freed his erection with a simple pull—pants pushed down to his hips, shirt hiked up just enough.

he started slow, stroking his length up and down. small, breathy moans escaped his lips. he didn’t even bother muting the video; he wanted to hear the actress’ high-pitched whimpers fill the room. leaning back into his chair, he picked up the pace. all he could focus on was the girl’s bouncing breasts and the filthy wet sound of skin slapping against skin as she was pounded from behind.

it felt too good.

he did this almost every night, but tonight... tonight felt different. something about the loneliness, the silence—it made everything more intense.

the video ended, but yangyang wasn’t done. not even close. he clicked through the suggested videos, impatient, and chose another.

his head tipped back as he groaned, completely lost in the heat, the lust curling tight in his stomach, the climax building slowly—deliciously.

he was so close.

until a notification blinked on his screen.

it was a message from you.

“do you have the photos yet?”

ah. the photos.

yangyang had helped you with a photoshoot for your instagram feed a few days ago. nothing serious—just a few soft shots, sweet poses, and since he had a professional camera, it made sense to ask him. all he had to do was connect the camera, transfer the files, do a light edit, and send them over.

like the multitasker he was, he left the video playing, stood up, still hard and hanging, and rummaged through the desk drawer for the camera. with quick hands, he plugged it in. one hand editing your photos, the other wrapped tightly around his cock, pumping with more urgency now. wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through him, curses and moans slipping past his lips.

the filthy background noise filled the room—moans, wet smacks, filthy talk.

but his eyes?

his eyes were on you.

on the screen, your soft smile, the way you posed so innocently.

then—another message popped up.

“i’m like three minutes away from your house, lol. gonna stop by to see the pics.”

but yangyang didn’t read it.

lust had swallowed his mind whole. he kept editing. kept jerking. faster. harder. he was almost there, his release right on the edge of his tongue. breath shaky. fingers quick.

until the door burst open.

“hey, yang—!”

white lines shot across his stomach.

his body jerked, muscles tense, panting hard. he turned his head.

and there you were.

frozen.

a hand still on the doorknob, face lit up by the room light, smiling... for half a second.

then the smile vanished.

your eyes dropped. to his cock, still wrapped in his hand. then up—to the screen.

your photo.

from the shoot he took just days ago.

a sharp “SORRY!!” and the slam of the door brought him crashing back to reality.

he sat there, chest rising and falling, his face burning red. a deep crimson shadow spread across his cheeks.

but—fuck. instead of going soft, his cock throbbed even harder. shame only made it worse. the embarrassment turned him on.

he cursed under his breath, yanked his boxers and pants up, slammed a key to mute the sounds, grabbed a tissue, and wiped off the mess on his abdomen.

“y-y/n! w-wait!” he called, fumbling with his clothes, rushing out after you.

there you were—back turned, stiff, humiliated.

and fuck, seeing you like that? it only made him harder.

being caught jerking off?

embarrassing.

but being caught by you?

something else entirely.

you turned, face flushed red. he didn’t know what to say. how the hell was he supposed to explain he was editing your photos while jerking off—but not because of them?

“l-listen, what just happened—it's a misunderstanding. i mean, yeah, i was editing your photos. but i swear i wasn’t doing it because—”

“oh, really? you’re such a pervert! you were jerking off to my pictures!”

“n-no!! it’s not like that—” he stammered, the bulge in his pants making it hard to even think clearly. “i was doing... other stuff,” he emphasized awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

and of course—you had heard the filthy sounds echoing from his room.

“so you weren’t touching yourself because of me?” your voice—soft, tinged with disappointment—cut deeper than a slap.

“n-no... no, i wasn’t…”

“why not?” you said, voice quiet, hurt, maybe even angry.

his eyes widened. what the hell were you saying?

he stared, hoping he hadn’t just imagined it.

but no—you really had said it.

“c-can i… would it be wrong if i asked to see it?” your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. your face turned, avoiding his eyes, your own burning with embarrassment.

“w-what…?”

you crossed your arms with a pout, refusing to say it again. yangyang’s eyes slowly traveled down your body. you were wearing a black off-shoulder long sleeve top that subtly hinted at your cleavage, a short gray denim skirt, and soft white ankle socks. on your feet, kun’s indoor slippers looked comically out of place with the rest of your outfit—but somehow, they added to the charm.

"can you... show me how you do it?" your voice was soft, hesitant.

a curved, wicked smile spread across yangyang’s lips.

"oh no… you’re really perverted. you want to watch your friend touch himself, huh?"

"you did it first!" you snapped back, cheeks burning. "touching yourself to my pictures like it was nothing—"

yangyang chuckled and sat back down on his swivel chair, while you stayed frozen in the middle of the bed, sitting on your knees. he turned the chair to face you, spreading his legs a bit before slowly pulling his pants back down. he lifted his shirt and held the hem with his teeth to keep it from falling.

that move alone made your breath hitch. the way his toned stomach glistened—maybe from earlier—was almost too much to take in.

"i need to get in the mood first… you don’t mind, do you?" he asked with a teasing tone.

you blinked, not understanding what he meant at first—until he turned slightly and played a video on full screen. a blonde girl in seductive lingerie moved sensually on a bed, soon joined by a man whose hands roamed all over her.

"yeah... that’s better," he whispered, but his eyes never left you. even with the explicit video playing, it was clear the thing turning him on most was sitting right in front of him.

he freed himself again, his length thick and veiny, flushed a deep red. you swallowed hard, eyes glued to him.

"y/n, you really are a pervert..." he murmured in a deeper tone as his hand began to move slowly, deliberately. the moans from the video filled the room, mixing with the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"i-i’m not..." you whispered, thighs pressing together to ease the growing ache between your legs.

"do you like what you see? because i definitely like what i’m seeing," he said, his voice low and almost dangerous. something warm and wet was starting to pool beneath your panties, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

your skin broke out in goosebumps when you heard the soft grunts escaping his mouth. his head tilted back slightly, one hand holding up his shirt, the other working between his thighs, faster now.

your bra rubbed against your sensitive nipples, making everything worse. your body felt flushed, hot under your skin, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the room temperature or the way yangyang was looking at you—like he was losing himself in you.

"let me see you, y/n…" he murmured, voice full of need. "touch yourself for me too."

his words felt like a command you couldn’t disobey.

you pulled up your skirt, rolling it up to your waist, you discovered your panties, pastel pink ones, small, with lace and cute little bows.

"fuck..." he groaned the moment he saw you. his hand moved faster, his breathing heavier. "touch yourself. i want to watch you too."

he could see the darker spot forming in the center of your underwear—a clear sign of how turned on you were. your fingers moved gently over the fabric, and you gasped softly at the contact. even the lightest stroke was enough to make you feel weak.

your fingers caressed your sensitive area over the fabric. you gasped at the electric sensation — just the simple touch was enough to make your legs tremble and desire surge through your body.

you kept stroking yourself through the cloth, this time with more intention. spreading your legs a little, you caught a glimpse of yourself in that position — and just the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to yangyang’s length.

“take off your panties, sweetheart.”

you slid your panties aside just enough to reveal your swollen, glistening folds. “god...” yangyang whispered, completely mesmerized. this moment was more intense than any of his fantasies — and his fantasies were wild, as expected from someone so deliciously perverted.

with two fingers, you traced your core from top to bottom, drawing out soft moans of pleasure. when the fabric started to get in the way, you slipped the panties off in one swift motion — a motion yangyang watched breathlessly, swallowing hard as his eyes drank in every second.

now your legs were open, completely exposed before him. your fingers moved frenetically over your clit, already swollen and throbbing, pulsing under every stroke — desperate for your touch, aching for his. you slid lower, teasing your entrance before pushing a finger in, and a loud moan tore from your lips, raw and involuntary.

yangyang mirrored your pace, eyes narrowing with fierce desire. he was close, too close — but he wanted to wait for you. he wanted to fall with you, at the exact same moment.

“put another one in, love. i want to see you with two fingers inside,” he begged, voice cracking with lust.

and because his wishes were commands, you slid in a second finger. your body trembled from the stretch, the overwhelming sensation forcing out helpless moans, as if no one else existed in the world but you and him. it felt too good — the situation, the build-up, the way yangyang was right in front of you, stroking his cock with his jaw clenched, the very sight of it enough to make your mouth water. you needed more. more of him, more of this.

the knot in your stomach twisted tighter. you quickened your rhythm, fingers slick, desperate, chasing the high that had been building endlessly. you wanted to fall over the edge. to unravel. to feel something more.

“y-yanggie... a-ah!!! i'm gonna come—i'm gonna explode, god!” you moaned, body arching as the wet, obscene sounds filled the room. chop, chop. every squelch echoing your pleasure, feeding his hunger. beneath you, a slick pool of arousal formed — a sight that drove yangyang insane.

“let's finish together, baby—let's come together, fuck, yes,” he groaned, increasing his pace despite the ache in his wrist. the pleasure of cumming with you was stronger than the pain. everything around him blurred, adrenaline rushing wild through his veins. and as you clenched your lip between your teeth, trying to hold on just a second longer, he swore he saw the most erotic vision of his life.

your fingers reached as deep as they could go, and in that moment, it felt like you'd touched heaven. a wave of heat flooded your face, your mouth parted, a thin trail of saliva slipping from the corner of your lips. then, without warning, you released — a stream of wetness bursting out of you, your climax crashing through your body, marked by a loud, broken moan that sounded like music to his ears.

he came too, spraying his cum high into the air, staining his pants in the process. but he didn’t care. nothing else mattered. as you collapsed back, breathless and undone, your body trembled with aftershocks — tingling, overstimulated, electric. it had been... perfect. the sight of your best friend touching himself for you, eyes fixed on every movement. and you, touching yourself for him, all the while wishing it was yangyang's fingers inside you instead.

yangyang couldn’t look away. he watched as your juices continued to drip from your pussy, the sight making his mouth water. the hunger hit him hard.

he dove between your legs without a word, burying his face in your soaked heat. his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer as his tongue slid up your slit, slow and deliberate — hot and hungry. each stroke of his tongue made your body twitch, breath catching in your throat, and you could only gasp, still sensitive, still open for him.

“a-ah!!! y-yanggie—!!!” you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation. it felt so good — too good — but at the same time, incredibly embarrassing. “i-it's dirty there!” you moaned, face flushed deep red from the shame. you instinctively tried to pull away, but his strength was greater than yours. he held you down with ease, his low grunt sending chills down your spine as he leaned in again, so close that even his breath kissed your sensitive center.

“you taste and smell amazing, i still can’t believe you’ve been hiding this part of yourself, y/n…” he murmured against your skin.

his tongue moved deliberately now — gliding over your outer lips, circling your clit, teasing every inch of you. the touches were soft, wet, and slow… extracting the sweetest moans from your mouth. you tried to stifle them with your hands, but he noticed. he noticed everything.

“don’t hide your pretty voice, y/n. i want to hear you,” he growled, voice low and rough. “fuck, i want to hear you scream.”

he looked up at you then — eyes dark, mouth glistening, shamelessly buried between your thighs. the sight alone made your core clench, your heart pound harder. you were so turned on it was dizzying, yet too shy to say it aloud. when his nose grazed your clit, you let out a squeal you didn’t even recognize as your own.

he kept devouring you for minutes that felt like eternity, and somewhere in between your cries, your moans turned into whispers of how good it felt. any traces of embarrassment had melted away. your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, voice barely audible.

“yang…”

“yes, baby?” he murmured, looking up at you with glistening lips and hungry eyes, waiting.

“…i want to suck you,” you whispered, turning your face away in shyness.

he let out a low chuckle, the sound wicked and full of mischief. “you want what? say it clearly, love.”

yangyang was enjoying every second — savoring your flustered expression, your trembling voice. he knew how to ruin you, how to make you squirm with embarrassment… and you felt it, that creeping self-consciousness wrapping around you again, even as desire burned hotter inside.

“i want to suck your cock,” you said — no hesitation, no shame. your voice rang out firm, clear, hungry.

yangyang’s breath hitched, eyes widening at the sudden shift in you — bold, dominant, devastatingly seductive. he felt his cock twitch, throbbing painfully hard at the sight of your confidence, your desire no longer hidden behind flushed cheeks or shy glances.

you pushed him gently back onto the chair, guiding him with soft hands until he sat. then with your hands you leaned on his thighs to make space between them in a very sensual way, facing him, your movements slow and deliberate. your ass remained raised, skirt bunched around your waist, your pussy still glistening and dripping — an open invitation, even as your attention turned entirely to him now.

you slid down between his legs, nestling there like you belonged, hands gliding up his thighs with featherlight touches. his cock stood proud, flushed and wet at the tip, and your fingers traced along his shaft with reverence — worshipful, but teasing.

yangyang swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the chair. the way you looked up at him while stroking him gently… fuck. like he was something sacred, something you'd been dying to taste.

“i want to be good for you, yanggie…” you whispered, voice soaked in lust, in devotion, in something so tender it nearly undid him.

he groaned, one hand reaching to brush your hair back behind your ear, his fingers shaking slightly from anticipation. “you already are, baby… you are so good…”

your tongue flicked out, teasing his tip, collecting the precum before dragging a slow, wet line down the underside of his cock. he let out a low moan, hips bucking slightly, but you pinned him with a firm look — not yet.

you kissed along the base, lips soft and hot against his skin, taking your time, your fingers still stroking him in rhythm. then, with a sinful smile, you wrapped your lips around the head and began to take him in, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact.

“fuck, fuck— y/n…” he hissed, his voice breathless, wrecked. you hummed around him, pleased by the reaction, by the way his thighs tensed and how he gripped your hair just a little tighter.

you wanted to ruin him. you wanted to taste every drop, every sound, every trembling breath that left his mouth.

just as your lips wrapped around him, slow and warm, yangyang reached for the edge of the desk with one hand — the other moved to quietly disconnect the camera, his eyes never leaving you. then, with calm precision, he switched it to video mode, and pressed record.

he had to capture this — you, in all your beauty, in all your power. the way your eyes looked up at him, so hungry and soft at once. the way your lips moved with intention. it was art.

“god… you look so perfect like this,” he murmured, almost reverent, his voice hoarse and low, like the words were being pulled straight from his chest.

you felt your cheeks warm, a wicked little smile tugging at your lips even as you kept him deep in your mouth. you pulled back slowly, your tongue teasing his tip, your hand continuing the rhythm below. then, with a playful glance at the camera in his hand, you adjusted a loose strand of hair behind your ear, tilted your chin slightly — just enough to show your best angle — and asked, sweetly:

“do i look pretty, yanggie?”

your voice was soft, laced with mischief, and your eyes sparkled with the kind of confidence only you could carry mid-act.

he groaned like your words alone could finish him.

“you look... like sin,” he whispered. “like a dream. my dream.”

your lips curled in satisfaction, but you didn’t stop. you dove back in — lips, tongue, hands — working in harmony, now with the knowledge that he was watching you twice: in real time, and through the screen.

you made sure to keep the rhythm steady, purposeful, your movements fluid and mesmerizing. every now and then, you stole a glance at the camera, letting him see your pride, your power. you were putting on a show, but it was real — this was real.

and god, he was falling for you all over again with every second.

his breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling as your rhythm became more intense, more focused. you felt it — the way his hips twitched slightly, the soft curses spilling from his lips, his hand tightening around the phone.

“shit, baby— i’m close,” he groaned, voice cracking at the edge of control. “i'm gonna—”

but you pulled back just enough to speak, voice sultry and breathless.

“no… not yet,” you whispered, licking your lips. “i want you to finish inside me.”

his eyes widened, the rawness of your words shooting through him like lightning.

“you sure?” he asked, barely managing the question, his voice all gravel and want.

you nodded, already rising, turning around with a confidence that left him breathless — your skirt still bunched at your waist, your skin glowing in the dim light, your body moving like a dream. slowly, you guided him back inside you, straddling him in reverse cowgirl, your movements fluid and steady, your hands gripping the arms of the chair for balance.

yangyang’s jaw dropped open as you began to move, your back arched, hips rolling — a rhythm both powerful and sensual. he adjusted the camera in his hand, angling it to capture everything: the way you rode him with control, the curve of your spine, the wet sound of your bodies meeting again and again.

“fuck… you’re unreal,” he moaned, the camera shaking slightly in his hand from the way his body trembled. “you feel so good, baby—”

you looked over your shoulder, lips parted, breath heavy, hair a little wild.

“i want you to remember this. every time you watch that video…” you said in a voice barely audible over the rhythm of your bodies, “i want you to remember how i chose this. how i chose you.”

and then you moved faster, your moans turning into whimpers, your body clenching with pleasure. he gripped your waist with his free hand, losing himself in the feeling, the sight, the sound of you falling apart on top of him.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck—” he growled.

“do it,” you whispered. “inside me, yanggie… i want all of you.”

just when you thought you were both about to finish together, yangyang surprised you — his hands gripped your waist and with one fluid movement, he pulled you off him and lifted you effortlessly into his arms. you gasped, startled, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as he walked toward the bed.

“not like this,” he murmured against your ear, breath warm, voice hoarse. “i want to see all of you… when we finish.”

he laid you down gently at the edge of the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the fire between your bodies. without letting go of the moment, he tossed the camera aside — it landed somewhere out of sight, still recording, but forgotten. right now, all that existed was you and him.

his eyes never left yours as he aligned himself again, the tension between you snapping like a drawn bow. your hands reached for him, your body arched in invitation. the pace this time was deeper, slower, more intimate — like he was memorizing the way your bodies met, the way your breaths tangled in the space between kisses and gasps.

you whispered his name like a prayer, your nails digging gently into his back, and he answered with soft moans and words you could barely catch — praises, desires, promises tangled in the haze of pleasure.

your legs tightened around him, urging him closer, deeper.

“i’m right there,” he breathed, eyes searching your face. “with you. just hold on…”

you nodded, lost in him — in the feeling, in the heat, in the connection that pulsed stronger than anything else.

and then the moment hit — not just the physical rush, but something bigger, something that made your whole body shiver. your hands clutched at him, your voice trembled, and as he followed right after you, everything around you blurred, melted, disappeared.

for a few moments, there was nothing but silence, breathless and glowing.

he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms without a word. your heart still raced, but it was softer now, steady in his embrace.

as you both got dressed slowly, still catching your breath and feeling the lingering sensitivity, yangyang bent down to pick up the camera from the floor. when he lifted it, he noticed the small red light still blinking.

“it’s still recording,” he said with a soft laugh, shaking his head with a mischievous smile. “guess it caught more than i expected.”

you giggled too, hiding your face with your hands, caught somewhere between embarrassment and excitement. he glanced at the screen for a second before turning to you with that teasing look in his eyes.

“do you want a copy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “i can send it to you… along with your edited photos, of course.”

you bit your lip, amused, and nodded. “what if we upload it?” you teased, winking at him.

yangyang fell silent for a moment, clearly surprised. a light blush crept onto his cheeks, but his smile returned just as quickly.

“only if we keep recording more,” he whispered, stepping closer, his voice low and tempting. “so you can build a full collection… upload whatever you want.”

your laughter blended with his as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and in that moment, the world shrank to just the two of you—lost in soft jokes, dirty promises, and the thrill of all the hot moments yet to come.

[chaoticwriting]

Part 3

Danny X Cass Part 4

They arrive at the pantry in just a moment. Danny, Cass and the rest of the batfam go to take their seat while Clark and Diana go to make some teas and snacks. Danny and Cass sit beside each other with the other side of Cass being Spoiler. Opposite of Danny is Bruce while beside him are Nightwing and Robin. Red Robin takes a chair and sits right behind Batman while still taping on his wrist computer.

Batman, Nightwing and Robin keep staring at Danny while Clark and Diana prepare the snacks and teas but Danny doesn't look nervous at all. As much as Danny wants to take all of them seriously, he really can't when he knows what he knows.

A moment later Clark and Diana come with 2 trays of snacks and teas and put them on the table. They take a chair each and sit near the end of the table. Clark and Diana can feel the intense glares from 3 bats. Both of them glance at the target in question and they can see that the guy takes the glare with stride. It's like the person that is being glared at is someone else.

Suddenly, a loud ding sounded in the room. Danny takes out his phone and a grin spreads on his face. Danny shows the screen to Cass and she also releases a few giggles. Feeling the glares becoming more intense, Danny puts his phone on the table and lets everyone see what he is seeing.

On his phone is a selfie of Dan holding a bloodied Darkseid in one hand with a caption "Can't even give out a decent fight. Even Boxy is a better sparring partner than him." Another message entered Danny's phone and there is a selfie of Elle with Danny's clone bitch slapping Trigon in the background. "This place is so cool. You gotta bring me here to play more." Danny shows the rest of the heroes that the deed is done and they finally relax. Clark stands up from his table and goes back to the other room to inform the other heroes that the threat had already been taken care of.

Danny then puts back his phone and continues drinking his tea. Heh. They might think that they are being scary but they don't even know even now Danny is still flirting with Cass. That's one of the benefits of being able to read the opponent's body language and ghost speak. To others holding hands is just holding hands but to them, holding hands can be used to convey all of your emotions.

They stay like that for a while longer until Clark returns from the other room. Seeing Clark fully seated, Bruce finally speaks.

"Who are you really?" Bruce asks with the most intimidating voice he can use.

"Didn't I say? I'm Danny Phantom. High King of Infinite Realm etc etc. I have a lot of titles but the high King one is the only important one." Danny says carelessly.

"How old are you?" Bruce asks.

"20"

"Impossible." Red Robin suddenly interjects.

"Why is it impossible?" Danny looks curiously at him. He genuinely doesn't know why it is impossible.

"There are records of you all across time all the way back to the ancient human. There are even traces of you in multiple pantheons." Red Robin says.

"Oh, you mean that. Duh, it's easy. I time travel. It's quite easy to time travel when your pops is the master of time." Danny says.

"But didn't you say Clockwork hates when someone messes with time?" Superman asks.

"If there is a time traveler that messes with the timeline, who do you think will deal with the guy? It certainly ain't that old man. He sends me to deal with the time traveler/magician who are trying to change the timeline." Danny says.

"Is Clockwork your father then?" Diana asks.

"Adopted parents. He is my parents/mentor for anything ghost related. Well actually for most things related except personal human problems." Danny says.

"How long have you known Black Bat?" Nightwing asks. Finally the real question.

"Wait, I think 10 years now. You are 21 right Cass? I remember when I first met her she was being chased down by this weird ninja. After I shot a few of them down with my Fenton Taser, Cass handled the rest of them. She then passed out from exhaustion and I brought her to my secret hideout (A cave Danny found just then). After a few days, Cass fully recovered and since then, she and I have been meeting every few months whenever she comes around."

"Also, I know all of your real identity. The phrase 'Dead man tells no tales' is a complete bs by the way. The ghosts really like gossiping. Like that one time I heard a ghost say that he sees Bruce fall into the dumpster because his grappling hook is jammed. Or that one time Dick got catcalled by an old lady."

The bats (except Cass)froze when they hear that Danny knows their secret identity. Bruce sighs and takes off his cowl followed by the rest of the family.

"Do you also know my identity, Danny?" Clark asks.

"Yes, I know you Kal-el. Your parents are very proud of what you have become."

"You met Ma and Pa?"

"Your biological parents."

"You- you've met my parents?" Clark's voice shakes. Danny nods while smiling warmly.

"If you want, I can set up a meeting with your parents. Not for long of course. It's not good for a mortal to be inside the realm for too long. And that invitation extends to all of you."

Most of them stilled at that invitation.

[luveline]

would you be able to do hotch’s adult daughter meeting the team?

—Hotch introduces his daughter to the team. 1.3k

“Aaron?” 

He’s grateful you didn’t call him Mr. Hotchner, but dad might not hurt. “Everything okay, honey?” he asks the phone. 

“Sure, um. This might be presumptuous and, like, embarrassing for me, but my last class got cancelled and I was wondering if I can come to your office today?” 

He feels his brows rise of their own accord. He checks his watch. You’ve picked a good day to want to come. “Sure, it’s quiet here.”

“You don’t want me to explain why?” 

“Presumptuous and embarrassing for me, I thought it might be to see your dear old dad.” 

You laugh funny on the other side, like Jack when he’s surprised. “Kind of. I do want to see you, but I was wondering what it’s like. In the FBI, I mean.” 

“You’re interested?” 

“In working there?” you ask. 

“It’s fine if you were, you don’t have to worry.” 

“It looks too intense for me, but… yeah, I guess I want to know what you do all day. I don’t know anything about that part of your life, and it’s such a big part of it.” 

He’s trying hard to say Yes to you at every opportunity, and this yes is easy. He sends a car to get you because he can, preparing himself for a lot of fawning and surprise. The BAU team, namely, Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Dave, and Penelope, know who you are, but the office itself has little knowledge of you. There was chatter the day you turned up here unannounced. You haven’t been to the office since. 

He exits his office and finds Spencer, Emily, and Derek in the bullpen doing their paperwork, among other things. Derek’s peeling an orange. Spencer has his nose in a book despite a hand on the computer mouse. 

“Are you ready?” he asks them. 

“For what, the round table?” Emily asks. 

“Y/N’s coming into the office.” 

Three backs straighten in unison. “The kid?” Derek asks with a grin. He’s the only one who’s actually met you, and it drives the others mad with jealousy. 

“My kid, yes,” he says. He can’t help smiling. “She wants to see what we do. Please don’t show her anything with blood or gore, though. Please.” 

“Scout’s honour,” Emily says, standing from her desk to brush herself down. “Out of everything that’s happened when I started here, is it strange that this is the craziest?” 

“It’s up there,” Spencer says. 

“It’s certainly the nicest surprise I’ve had,” Aaron says, not quite missing the look Emily and Derek share even as he spots you at the office doors with your visitor’s pass clipped to the belt of your skirt. 

He walks to meet you, lest the sheer sea of faces intimidate you. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

You pull your jacket tighter around you, but it’s not a warm thing —if anything, it seems to be a stiff cardigan, grey and white plaid with ornate buttons. “It’s freezing out there.” 

“You’ll feel much warmer in a minute. The heat has been on high all day, JJ’s orders.” He slips his hand behind your back and shepherds you to the bullpen. “Honey, these are some of the members of my team. Supervisory special agents Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid.” 

“Emily,” Emily says, thrusting her hand forward to shake. 

“Spencer,” Spencer adds, managing to escape a handshake as Derek steps in. 

“Derek Morgan,” he introduces himself, shaking your hand with a warm smile. “I can see now why you were reluctant to tell me what you were here for.” 

Your smile goes sideways, like you’re startled, but pleased nonetheless, “I– honestly, I thought you’d make me leave if you heard what I had to say. It’s still not believable.”

“You sound like him,” Spencer says. “Not masculine, but–”

“Mellifluous,” you and Aaron say at the same time. 

“Exactly.” 

“Freaky,” Emily says, though her smile is brilliant. 

When Aaron sat the team down to tell them, it wasn’t because he necessarily wanted to. He loves you as any man loves their child even if he still has mountains to learn about you, and the urge to brag about you doesn’t go away, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to answer so many questions about you at the time. As far as anybody in Aaron’s life knows, he and Haley haven’t ever split, it was a private parting, and so the first thing he sensed from everyone was a shift in image. “I didn’t cheat on Haley,” he’d said quickly, with a suffering sigh, “we were broken up at the time.” 

“Like, on a break?” Emily had asked, cringing. 

No, not really. Aaron assumed he and Haley were broken up permanently when he slept with your mother, but that brief relationship cemented for him that he loved his now-wife. Now that the team know he’s not an adulterer, the only thing he has while presenting you to them is pride. 

“Y/N’s class was cancelled today, so I’m going to show her around the office and give her some insight into what we do here,” he says, catching your attention with a grin. “It’s not as though you need today's lecture, hm? She’s nearly the top of her class.” 

You shake your head at him, beaming but mortified, “Don’t.” 

“If she didn’t work so hard–”

“He’s trying to get me to quit my job,” you tell the others. “He’s overbearing.” 

“We know,” Emily says. 

“I just think that now is a time for studying, and you’ve worked hard enough already.” 

You shift marginally closer to him. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Aaron does, and he suspects his team do to. “I’m fine doing both,” you say. 

He’s sure he’ll win the argument one day. For now, he escorts you through the office to the round table, then his office, pulling you into Rossi’s office for a charming hello and then to JJ’s, where you’re greeted with excitement and a disarming amount of love. Aaron forgets sometimes how much he and his team have been through together. You really are a good surprise. 

“Where are we going now?” you ask, following Aaron down a long corridor. 

He smiles. “You don’t have a sensitivity to high-pitched noises, do you?” 

Your confusion is plain on your face. Aaron takes you to a familiar door, placard reading in big, black letters: PENELOPE GARCIA, BAU TOP TECH AND DATA ANALYST. It’s surrounded by pink heart shaped stickers. 

He knocks the ajar door politely. “Garcia?” he asks.

“Sir?” Penelope says back. 

He eases open the door with his foot. Penelope turns in her chair, blonde hair in windswept curls, her lips painted a pink-orange. 

“Garcia, this is Y/N, my daughter.” 

Penelope’s mouth falls open. “I know who she is,” she says, nearly monotonous. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I’ve heard so much about you. I love your trinkets,” you add, nodding at her wild desk. 

Penelope gives Aaron a pleading look. He nods. 

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Penelope says, rushing forward to throw her arms around you. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

You laugh and bow gently under her weight. “Me neither,” you say sincerely. 

“Oh my gosh. Oh my god,” she says, pulling away to smile at Aaron, “she sounds like you, you weren’t kidding! How is it possible that she sounds like you?” 

“Strong genetics?” he suggests. 

“I’ve never been this happy in my life,” Penelope says. 

He watches you take Penelope’s excited hand and thinks, that makes two of us. 

“You’re so adorable, I’m looking for Hotch in your face but you don’t look like him at all. But your clothes! You’re so cute, like a baby politician!” 

“I’m almost twenty three.” 

“So young,” Penelope fawns. 

[etherealrin]

ᯓ★ thinking about academic-rival!rin

“you…you’re my rival!” an angry, red-faced itoshi rin had foolishly declared in second grade, after you’d scored a perfect 100 on the latest math test—he’d only received a 98.

rin hadn’t seriously meant it back then, but you took it very much personally. over the ten years which ensued, the two of you had developed an odd dynamic. it was intense, to say the least. you took the competition very seriously, taking every advanced course your school had to offer, and rin followed right alongside you. the obvious result was matching schedules; each year you’d chosen virtually identical classes. you’d decided to hate him, and your rivalry was no secret either, with your and rin’s name always occupying two of the top three spots in class rankings. despite that, he’d never done anything to suggest dislike for you. even the teachers had taken to teasing the two of you, they seemed to love pairing the two of you for group projects, watching you both struggle to outperform the other on presentation day.

“not again,” you groan as you realize that rin was your partner. rin mirrors your displeased expression from across the classroom. your english teacher smiles at you both, thoroughly entertained.

“you two will be assigned romeo and juliet,” she says, feigning indifference. you swear she’s trying not to laugh. the rest of your class inevitably snickers: of course the two who hate each other would have a blast presenting the iconic love story!

“no, no, no, no!” you find yourself telling rin as you pace around his room, pointing at his computer then back to him, anger evident in your tone. “juliet is not stupid, she’s only trying her best to save herself from never seeing romeo again, and inevitably divorcing paris,” you exhale. of course rin couldn’t be trusted with the character analysis of juliet—he was so cold that he probably couldn’t comprehend the idea of love. in your fit of annoyance, you’d walked closer to rin, fully invading his personal space. to be precise, your faces were barely inches away, but you only continue your rant. “you probably don’t even get what love is, just let me do the analysis!” you huff, arms crossing.

you’re met with his clear azure gaze, and, weirdly, he laughs, low and melodic.

“do you really think that?” rin asks, leaning in just a bit closer, breath tickling your nose. “that i’m not capable of love?”

“well-“ you falter, unsure of your answer. and why the hell was he so close to you? why did his cologne smell infuriatingly good, was it le labo santal 33?

“why do you act like you hate me?” he whispers. there’s no hint of mockery in his voice, it’s genuine.

“because i do?” your voice shakes. you’re not even confident of that—but wasn’t he supposed to be your rival?

“hmm, but i don’t think so,” he breathes. his fingers move to ghost up your face and cup your jawline. you’re hesitant to move away; honestly, you don’t want to move. the tension in the air is thick enough to slice and you can’t help but indulge in the enigma of itoshi rin—what would be his next move?

maybe it was all just a ploy to make sure you failed english?

“here, let’s pretend you’re juliet and i’m romeo,” he says suddenly, still hovering above your face. “since you think my analysis is so bad, maybe i’m a hands-on learner.” his hand trails down your waist as he speaks, his touch dizzying. you were probably malfunctioning, because you should have seen the red lights and sirens in your head. yet you’re frozen still, all you can do is stare back stupidly wide-eyed at him, letting him slot his lips against yours and you hate how perfect he feels, how he tastes faintly like the peppermint gum that you love.

it feels like sparks rushing through your veins, you feel high on something else entirely. you feel him smirking into the kiss, like he’d known all along that you would fold the second he tried something. because you had never truly hated him, not one bit.

you give into his touch, into the kiss, as rin pulls you closer, fingers skimming through your hair. rin was the smarter one, unfortunately. he’d known that your little rivalry was only a product of misplaced feelings, because how could the second grade him tell you that he liked you, admired that you were smart?

“you win, rin,” you admit once he lets go of you, gasping for air.

“…i thought so.” he replies. “is now a good time to mention that i might’ve bribed our english teacher for this project?”

“you what?”

a/n: i never forgot when lya posted ab this omg. ooc rin probably but idc! ugh i’m sorry this isn’t the best

masterlist.

[sanjisluvbot]

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Intuition

Previous || Next

-`♡´- PAIRING: Yandere Batfam / Neglected Black fem reader

-`♡´- LINK TO: Masterlist

-`♡´- SYNOPSIS: All you've ever been was ignored, so why not move to a new city. Everything was glitter and gold till that phone call you decided to finally pick up. From nothing you quickly became their most important something, but this, this was no regular 180. This family was drowning you, begging every waking moment for a forgiveness you don't see yourself handing out.

-`♡´- NOTES: I hope ch 2 is enjoyed as much as ch 1!!!! Not completely edited ( sorrryyy) MWuah! Oh, taglist is still open !!! Also, no warnings yet because it's not that scary

The hours flew by, and you distracted yourself from your previous encounter with your father by attempting to continue your painting. Darkness began to overtake Gotham like a blanket of death and your inspiration was stuck in the big apple.

You were dreading this ‘dinner’ and the discussion that apparently needed to be had in front of the whole family. Was this a sick way of humiliating you for trying to move on from them? Was your escape to New York so angering that they needed to drag your back to the city and remind you of their existence.

You showered off the new version of you. Digging into your closet, finding the girl you used to be. Dark colored tops, dresses, everything, dark and depressing. You shrugged on something neat, something you saw akin to armor to deflect the painful remarks and ridicule you're expected to face. Dinner got closer and soon you were called by Alfred, beginning your trudge to the dining room. 

Getting closer you heard distant laughs. Bile begging to rise to your throat. Dick and Tim laughing at whatever psycho shit came from Jason’s mouth, two distinct female laughter rang your ears into oblivion as well.

When you stepped into the room you swore you could hear your own blood rushing through your ears. Their eyes all piercing, expectant of you. Wordlessly you sat down keeping your head high facing the door to the kitchen where Alfred was thankfully walking out with drinks. 

They all drank in your appearance. They pretended to continue their chatter, but kept quieter, wanting to observe you. You finally looked like the girl they remembered only with radiant skin and a different hairstyle. Your clothes held a different fit as well, but the boys were trying their best to pretend you hadn’t put on a few sizes since the last time they truly paid attention to you.

Or maybe they were trying to pretend you weren’t the girl they relentlessly bullied and pushed past for a decade. No one wanted to speak up first, each and everyone, besides Damien, were anxiously anticipating Bruce’s arrival. 

The young boy observed you intensely, Head to toe, from your outfit when you first arrived to the little facial twitches you made interacting awkwardly with your father. He was enamored at your complete 180. Your timid behavior and crying over the way your siblings fooled around had angered him, he couldn’t understand why you would behave so childishly in a family like the Wayne's.

He noticed the way you were still shrinking away from them, pretending you were an innocent victim. He remembered the other day going through the computer in the bat cave, seeing all the extensive research they had done on you. 

His heart racing in pure anger seeing as you let men grope and kiss you ass soon as you left the manor. He sneered at you with just that memory and your eyes widened finally picking up his radar. Surprisingly you rolled your eyes at his behavior. Just as he was about to speak he heard the sound of his father’s heavy footsteps. 

Bruce sat down with all his children, happy to be once again surrounded by those who gave him the will to live. His eyes landed on you, in your old clothes looking as pretty as one of your paintings. Which reminded him he never got to look at the one you were currently working on due to his nerves. His confidence grew with the rest of his children in the room with him. The conversation tonight would begin the mending of your relationship with the entire family.

Alfred began bringing plates out and Bruce pondered on whether he or Dick should begin the conversation. What was found on your phone, whether or not you’d be returning to New York in September, how to begin the apology for not treating you like family for as long as you’d been here. He sighed to himself as he poured gravy onto his plate, your reaction to anything they needed to say tonight will go only one way. 

Earlier during the day the Batcave was occupied by Dick and Bruce. Silently working, waiting for one another to spark the conversation about you. Dick already knew Bruce wouldn’t start first so with a huff he swiveled his chair and rolled over to his side, “ We need to figure out how to begin the conversation later. Should we start with an apology or go straight into telling her off about the bullshit we found in her phone?” Bruce grunted angrily thinking about your behavior in some of these videos. “ I don’t want her to become too upset, but I am her father and you’re her older brother—I just can’t believe the way she acted!” 

“ Stop mentioning that, I don’t want to be angry for the rest of the day.”

“ I think we can ease into it all by talking about her public media, congratulate her, and then maybe she’ll be so happy she will understand when we mention not returning to New York!” 

The two were quickly forming a plan. 

The dinner dragged on, the weight of each passing second sinking deeper into your chest. The conversations around you felt hollow, their forced laughter and thinly veiled curiosity only amplifying the discomfort. Each member of the family studied you with an intensity that unsettled your nerves. Even Damien, the youngest of them all, couldn't stop watching you like a hawk, his dark eyes piercing through the veil of your calm exterior.

You couldn’t help but feel the undercurrent of tension. You could sense that they had been discussing you before you arrived—hell, you knew they had. The way they looked at you now was different, more calculating, as if you were some puzzle they were eager to solve. You clenched your fists under the table, trying to keep your composure.

Bruce was talking now, his tone warm, almost overly so, as he praised your work—your art, your paintings, your social media presence. You felt the air in the room grow thicker with each compliment, the undertone of admiration from your father felt almost too affectionate. But you couldn’t pinpoint why. It was when he mentioned your “public media presence” that you felt the first cold prickle run down your spine.

“Y/n,” he began again, leaning forward as though eager to engage you, “You’ve been doing so well, haven’t you? You’ve truly blossomed. The way you’ve built your own life away from Gotham—it's impressive. The way you’ve grown... you’ve become a woman, haven't you?”

His words felt too sharp, too scrutinizing, this couldn’t be the same man who barely glanced at you six months ago when you said you were leaving for New York.. The back of your neck prickled with an uncomfortable heat. You could feel their gazes intensifying as they looked at you, as if they were all waiting for something—waiting for you to fall into their trap.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, the words tasting foreign on your tongue. You were used to compliments on your work and achievements… just from other people. It had been so long since anyone in this room had complimented you like this, in fact, they never complimented you. Something was very wrong tonight and yet, the way they spoke about you now made you feel a warm tingle, as though you were a person to them, someone they truly loved. 

Bruce continued, his voice softer, “I think we can all agree that you’ve done well for yourself. But…” He hesitated, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “There are still some things we need to discuss. Things that can’t be left in the past, like your time here in Gotham, and... well, your future. You don’t want to stay in New York forever, do you?”

His words hit you like a punch to the stomach. Your intuition was always right. The thought of going back to live in Gotham, back to that suffocating manor, back to being the girl in the shadows felt like a prison sentence. You had found your freedom—your space. You had begun to heal, to find yourself, and now, they were pulling you back into their world, a world you had never fit into.

“I—” you started to speak, but your voice faltered under the weight of the stares not wanting to anger them. “I’m fine where I am. I’m happy in New York.”

Bruce’s smile remained, but it no longer held any warmth. It was darker, more predatory. His gaze lingered on your face, calculating, almost like he was looking past you, into the future he was trying to map out for you. “You don’t have to worry about that. You’ll be home soon. It’s just a matter of time. A family needs to stay together, Y/n. We have a lot of healing and apologizing to do.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. His tone made your heart race, the chill creeping up your spine turning into a full-on shiver. You couldn’t look at him any longer. Eyes turned down to the table, anger and fear coursed through you.

Your father spoke as though there was no reasoning behind your leaving, as if you were some defiant teenager trying to get a rise out of daddy. The affection within his words, affection he never had for you even when you first arrived at his front door was laced in something sick and possessive.

Anger washed over your features when you lifted your head. His eyes held love, all the love you wished you had, the love every one of your siblings received all these years. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing through your nose before putting on a fake smile. “I’m not sure what you mean, but I’m happy where I am,” you said, smile twitching.

Your attempt to brush off his words only seemed to intensify his focus. The others—Dick, Tim, and Jason—watched you in silence, their expressions unreadable. Jason’s eyes narrowed in a way that made your skin crawl, while Barbra and Cass exchanged a look, the kind of look siblings share when they know something is about to get ugly.

Bruce leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low murmur, barely audible over the sound of the clinking silverware. “We’ve been keeping track of you, Y/n. Of your social media, your friends. We want to make sure you’re safe, protected. You don’t need to be with those people, you know. You belong here, with us. You’ve always belonged here.”

You recoiled at his words, a sick feeling settling in your stomach. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks—they were treating you like one of their villains. All this time, they had been watching, following your every move, like predators circling their prey. The thought of them lurking in the shadows of your life made you sick to your core. 

But before you could finish, Damien cut in, his voice laced with venom. “You’re not even really a part of this family. You’ve always been difficult—a distraction. And now you think you can just live however you want? As if you don’t owe us anything?”

Your eyes snapped to Damien, your blood running cold. The way he spoke, the way his words cut through the air—this was why you had left without word. They didn’t care about you; they only cared about controlling you as they easily control Gotham. And now that you had escaped, they were trying to drag you back, to reclaim what they thought was rightfully theirs. 

You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this!” you shouted, your voice breaking with the emotion you had been holding in for so long. The room fell into a stunned silence as you backed toward the door, your pulse pounding in your ears. “I’m not coming back. I’m not staying here. I don’t belong with you.”

Before you could make it to the door, Bruce was there, his hand slapping into the door and the other gripping your wrist with a surprising force that made you stumble. “Y/n, you’re staying home. You don’t get to make these decisions, you’re still a child. We’re family. You don’t get to run away from us, we’re trying to fix our relationship.”

“ Fuck you, you decide nothing! You never once cared about me or shit I’ve done in my life—any of you!”

His grip tightened, you winced at the reminder of who he was, at your wince he released the tight hold, not fully letting you go. This wasn’t about love—it was about control. About ownership. He doesn’t care about you, not truly. Not until you had made your escape, made them remember that you were alive.

Damien moved to block the door, your eyes tracking the shining silver tucked into his hand, his eyes gleamed with malicious intent. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The others were closing in now, like wolves circling their prey. Dick, Jason—they all stood together, silent, but the weight of their presence was suffocating. Your vision began to blur, the familiar feeling of anxiety keeping you paralyzed.

“You can’t keep me here,” you whispered, panic rising in your chest.

Bruce’s smile was cold, calculating. “Oh, but we can. You know that very well. I didn’t want dinner to turn out this way sweetheart, so please, sit down and we can talk about this. Like family should. ”

And before you could react, Damien was upon you, his hands gripping your arms as he pulled you back into your seat with force a child his age shouldn't have. Your heart pounded in your chest, your instincts screaming at you to escape, but there was no way out and there was nowhere to run without one of them catching you.

“You’re stuff will be delivered back to Gotham in the next few days. Next week we can look into one of Gotham's art schools, doesn’t that sound fantastic sweetheart?” Bruce said softly, his voice laced with a terrifying finality. “And we can plan a family trip for the summer, all of us together, no matter what.”

The walls closed in around you, and the air grew thick with the way smiles grew onto everyone’s face. Your life in New York, your freedom, was nothing but a fleeting dream. You sat in your chair, tears falling from your eyes as you tried to hold back your sobbing. They all went back to eating, chatting with one another as if nothing went down, as if they couldn’t hear the way you sobbed into your sleeve. 

“ I hate you,” you whisper.

Bruce stops chewing, looking up at you through his lashes. “ I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t want to be rough with you.” He says, remorse in his voice. 

When dinner ended, you quickly got up, rushing out of the dining room. Embarrassment coursed through you. They saw you weak again, you weren’t as strong as you thought you had become.

You wished you could time travel, let yourself know that it’s not worth it to pick up the phone, maybe you should’ve gone on a trip by yourself for the first two weeks of summer, and leave your phone behind. The things you wished you could have done before you got to this moment made the tears fall faster. 

You locked the door to your room, feeling Damien’s presence hot on your heels as you rushed up the stairs. Talking to that little boy felt worse than speaking to anyone else.

You lay on your comforter, cradling yourself and tucking your legs into your chest. The emotions were too overwhelming, and the scenes played over in your head. You thought the dinner would be simple.

You wanted to just pop back into Gotham, show them how good your life was without them, and leave within the next two days. Deep down, it was evident that the random calls from unknown numbers, the calls from Bruce, and even asking you to return to Gotham were signs that something was amiss. All your achievements and change meant nothing when all you had to do was return to the manor to become a shell of yourself again. 

The manor was quiet now, and the sadness was dulling. You finally picked yourself up and walked to your dresser, getting a pair of pajamas. You changed and crawled under your sheets, reaching over to turn off your lamp.

Hours passed, and you still twisted and turned, falling in and out of sleep. Light began peaking through your window, and you groan restlessly. You didn’t want to spend another minute in Gotham with lunatics and the night came and went. 

You sit up finally, giving up on a full night of sleep. You needed to formulate a plan, how would you escape Gotham? Scratch that, how would you escape Batman and his super soldier vigilante children? You paced around in your room, there were cameras everywhere, among other things that would be able to detect you.

There was also the new-found hyperawareness of you that would be your biggest issue, you knew better than to think you could even leave your room without coming into contact with one of them in the hallway. 

You knew you needed to be realistic with your situation. You were dealing with Batman, Batman-level technology, Batman’s boys and girls, and you were the only one in the house without any training, so you can’t barge your way through the front door.

You didn’t want to play into heir shit either, nothing was forgiven or forgotten and the way Bruce and Damien handled you last night was infuriating. Incredibly painful as well, but there would be no more tears from you. 

When the sun hung higher in the sky, making Gotham a dull blue-grey, you finally left the safety of your room walking down the dimly lit hallway. You felt the cameras in the corners, the ones hidden in plain sight, how they zeroed in on you.

You ignored the desperate feeling in your legs, wanting to run and take you as far as they could. In the kitchen, you searched for something easy, wanting to be in and out in case all of them were still here. The top shelf held yogurt, so you reached for that when you turned around, you almost dropped it due to coming face to face with Jason. 

His eyes were hardened as usual and he dwarfed you completely. You try walking around him, but he reaches out and you jump back into the cool metal doors of the fridge. You refused to shrink into yourself and puff your chest looking him right in the eyes. He notices your behavior immediately, a smirk pulls onto his face. “ Y/n, the big apple changed you. You used to be so shy.” 

“ What do you need, Jason?”

“ Nothing...nothing it’s just—you’ve grown up.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to walk away from him again but he lightly grabbed your arm. You look down to his hand then to him before yanking yourself away.

He gripped you again, yanking you back and slamming you softly into the fridge, making you drop our yogurt. Your eyes widen when he begins speaking, “ You know, it’s impolite to walk away when someone is speaking to you. Or has partying and acting like you’re an adult got you forgetting your manners?”

“ The fuck are you talking about–”

“ You forget who you’re dealing with? You forget your daddy is Batman? You think we weren’t going to find out everything you did in New York, baby bird?”

You opened your mouth to speak but a few grunts from behind Jason stopped you. He rolled him eyes and released you letting you see Bruce and Dick. Both of their arms crossed, and you stood there defiantly. “ As Jason was saying, we found out about the partying, the weed, everything,” Dick explained rubbing the back of his head while his ears turned red. 

“ That’s your fault,” you scoff.

“ Y/n you can’t possibly think that dad is going to let you just run back to the city–”

“ I can do as I please! My entire life you people never even gave a fuck whether or not I was alive and now you’re all being weird and fucking crazy. Which is the main reason I left in the first place!” 

“ Sweetheart,”

“ No. Stop with the weird pet names that you have never once called me. I don’t want this, whatever you’re trying to do leave me alone. I’ve always been alone and I’m not going to let you invade my new happy life.” You scream.

The tears welling into your eyes again but you refuse to let them fall. Their faces drop seeing the tears, the remorse and guilt settling further in. The way you looked speaking to them with your heart arose possession. 

Your tears framed your face making you look like the child they all remembered, you were obviously still that child and you needed the protection, love, and support from you family. They would never allow you to be surrounded by such obvious bad influences again.

They made you drink, smoke, and act in ways no girl your age should be acting. Bruce walked over to you, brushing a hand through your hair, “ Sweetheart, I want to apologize for how I treated you, and I want you to understand that we are not doing this to hurt you.”

🏷️: @jaybunsblog @galaxypurplerose @bellethesleepypotato @jsprien213 @mona1704 @hopingtoclearmedschool

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Two digital drawing of Colin Becher from The Magnus Protocol wearing his own official Knock Thrice merchandise. He is a skinny white man with long, light brown hair cut short on top and scruffy facial hair and body hair, and large blue eyes with dark eyebags. He is wearing rectangular glasses with yellow lenses, silver stud earrings, and blue jeans with brown knee patches, and the Knock Thrice Colin crewneck sweatshirt and matching ball cap. The cap has a gray base and darker blue brim and a glitchy computer patch on the front, and the sweatshirt is a light brown with one yellow sleeve and one red, and the same computer patch as the hat on one side of the chest. The yellow sleeve has "Property of: C. Becher" sewn into it near the cuff.

The first drawing is from the knees up, showing him standing with one fist balled and his other hand holding a red apple with a bite taken out of it. His hair is in a high ponytail through the hat, and his hair almost reaches his knees. He is looking intensely off to the side, chewing.

The second drawing is from the waist up and shows him holding the hat while sewing his name into the side of it, biting the thread to cut it with his head tilted back. His hair is tied into a low bun and he looks at the needle, slightly frustrated. end ID]

~~~~

had to draw colin in his own merch. ball cap colin is not a thought i'd had before but i Do like it (though i probably won't draw it much. let that receding hairline shine babygirl)