#flight test type

[mercutiotakethewheel]

Kendra, inwardly: Omg I am so scared right now. I’m going to die here. This freakyass magical creatures about to do me in. And could do so easily, which I am imagining very vividly right now. Those are huge teeth. I am fighting god to hold it together right now. I don’t want to die. Why am I here? Just to suffer, every night I close my eyes and—

Kendra, outwardly: I cast vicious mockery.

[bumpscosity]

how do we feel about this (link is to paradise tert but the other 2 I have here are underbelly and stained)? anyone got any other scries for this bb as an auraboa? I want him to look cute with his wife :)

[alienzil]

Okay so I saw this post and you know the types of fics where adult Danny moves to Gotham and winds up emotionally adopting one or more of bat kids or accidentally coparenting with Bruce (with or without a relationship between them)? I had the thought, what if Danny parented the bat kids but he started doing it out of spite?

Like, Danny moves to Gotham and runs into Batman and Robin one night while out for a late night flight and drops down to the rooftop to say hi.

Bruce sees this 5'6" twink that looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over and is so obviously new in town and thinks Gotham is going to eat him alive, he needs to leave before he gets killed.

Batman: Looming menacingly and in his deepest scariest Batman voice, "Leave. Metas aren't allowed in Gotham."

Danny: Offend! Excuse?! Who does this guy think he is?! 😡 Danny was trying to be polite here! "First of all, I'm not a meta. Second of all, rude much?!"

Batman: Does scariest bat glare. "Leave." Swoops off into the night.

Robin (Damian): "My father is correct. You should leave the city for your own safety."

Danny sees this tiny vigilante child with fierce expression and a sword and is just like awww, so cute! 😍 Then he noticed Robin had a small cut on his arm and his inner gremlin activates. If the rude flying furry can't take care of his own kid properly, Danny will do it better!

He bandages up Damian's arm, gives him a cookie and teaches him a neat sword trick before sending him on his way with a hug telling him he needs his sleep.

Danny goes out of his way to run into the bat kids and be the absolute best dad.

He takes Nightwing flying and throws him in the air so Nightwing can do all the fanciest acrobatic tricks.

He tracks down Red Hood and starts a book club with him (Danny may or may not have used his connection with Ghost Writer to get ahold of some rare books).

He eats waffles with Spoiler and trys out weird topping combinations that make them both make faces and laugh.

He makes new gadgets for Red Robin but carefully breaks them just a little bit and takes them to the teen so they can fix them together (it's enrichment!). He always insists RR keep them as a reward.

He follows Signal around during the day invisibly, making faces and doing tricks only Signal can see (he made him laugh in front of the police at a crime scene twice!).

All of the kids get his attention and love and Danny smugly thinks how Batman must be absolutely seething about his kids bonding with Danny and Batman missing out on all of it.

Danny started it out of spite but he does wind up genuinely loving the bat kids.

Batman definetly hates it when the kids are bonding with Danny and is extremely jealous (sulky Batman brooding in his cave about it).

Bruce's repeated attempts to intimidate Danny into leaving Gotham don't work and him telling his kids to stay away from Danny had zero effect (the terrible children don't listen to him at all).

So Bruce starts spending more time with the kids to compete against Danny. The bat kids love it and (little gremlins that they are) use the two of them against each other constantly.

Bruce:"Sorry Tim, I can't make it to your photography exhibit this weekend, there's a meeting with the Justice League."

Tim:"Oh that's fine... I'll just ask Danny to come." 😏

Bruce: Narrows his eyes and grits his teeth, "Actually, the Justice League needs to have contingencies in place to manage without my input. This would be a good time to test their capabilities. I'll skip the meeting and come to your exhibit."

With both of them competing to spend more time with the kids it leads to the two of them spending time with each other to be around the kids more.

After Damian catches a terrible flu bug, Danny spends an entire weekend at the manor babying him. This is when Bruce finds out Danny has known their secret identities for months and tries to get mad about it but Alfred puts his foot down, raises a judgmental eyebrow in Bruce's direction that puts a stop to that nonsense and sets up Danny with his own room in the family wing.

Eventually, Danny gets to the point where he spends most of his nights at the manor and he and Bruce consult each other on all major household decisions.

The whole family is at the manor one morning including Danny. Bruce has a meeting at WE and he and Danny are absently discussing their plans for the day at the breakfast table.

Bruce: " The meeting should take most of the morning and then I have paperwork this afternoon and a scheduled walk through on one of the new engineering projects. I probably won't be done by the time school let's out. Can you pick up Damian today?"

Danny: "That shouldn't be a problem. Would you mind swinging by the bookstore on the way home and getting my preorder? Jay and I just finished rereading the first book and we were wanting to start the second tonight before you all go on patrol. I'd rather not try to make it to the bookstore in school rush hour traffic"

Bruce: "Sure."

Stephanie watches Danny reach out and absently straighten Bruce's tie as they both get up to leave. Bruce grabs Danny's coffee thermos and hands it to him while they walk out the door.

Stephanie: "Sooo, bets on how long until they realize they're basically married?"

[nasa]

Tiny BurstCube's Tremendous Travelogue

Meet BurstCube! This shoebox-sized satellite is designed to study the most powerful explosions in the cosmos, called gamma-ray bursts. It detects gamma rays, the highest-energy form of light.

BurstCube may be small, but it had a huge journey to get to space.

First, BurstCube was designed and built at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland. Here you can see Julie Cox, an early career engineer, working on BurstCube’s gamma-ray detecting instrument in the Small Satellite Lab at Goddard.

BurstCube is a type of spacecraft called a CubeSat. These tiny missions give early career engineers and scientists the chance to learn about mission development — as well as do cool science!

Then, after assembling the spacecraft, the BurstCube team took it on the road to conduct a bunch of tests to determine how it will operate in space. Here you can see another early career engineer, Kate Gasaway, working on BurstCube at NASA’s Wallops Flight Facility in Virginia.

She and other members of the team used a special facility there to map BurstCube’s magnetic field. This will help them know where the instrument is pointing when it’s in space.

The next stop was back at Goddard, where the team put BurstCube in a vacuum chamber. You can see engineers Franklin Robinson, Elliot Schwartz, and Colton Cohill lowering the lid here. They changed the temperature inside so it was very hot and then very cold. This mimics the conditions BurstCube will experience in space as it orbits in and out of sunlight.

Then, up on a Goddard rooftop, the team — including early career engineer Justin Clavette — tested BurstCube’s GPS. This so-called open-sky test helps ensure the team can locate the satellite once it’s in orbit.

The next big step in BurstCube’s journey was a flight to Houston! The team packed it up in a special case and took it to the airport. Of course, BurstCube got the window seat!

Once in Texas, the BurstCube team joined their partners at Nanoracks (part of Voyager Space) to get their tiny spacecraft ready for launch. They loaded the satellite into a rectangular frame called a deployer, along with another small satellite called SNoOPI (Signals of Opportunity P-band Investigation). The deployer is used to push spacecraft into orbit from the International Space Station.

From Houston, BurstCube traveled to Cape Canaveral Space Force Station in Florida, where it launched on SpaceX’s 30th commercial resupply servicing mission on March 21, 2024. BurstCube traveled to the station along with some other small satellites, science experiments, as well as a supply of fresh fruit and coffee for the astronauts.

A few days later, the mission docked at the space station, and the astronauts aboard began unloading all the supplies, including BurstCube!

And finally, on April 18, 2024, BurstCube was released into orbit. The team will spend a month getting the satellite ready to search the skies for gamma-ray bursts. Then finally, after a long journey, this tiny satellite can embark on its big mission!

BurstCube wouldn’t be the spacecraft it is today without the input of many early career engineers and scientists. Are you interested in learning more about how you can participate in a mission like this one? There are opportunities for students in middle and high school as well as college!

Keep up on BurstCube’s journey with NASA Universe on X and Facebook. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[fillinforlater]

Pink Sheets of the Gangbang Queen

Male Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 1759 words

Tags: post-gangbang-unclarity, a fuckton of cum, the biggest creampies you can imagine, sluttiest_woman_ever!Gaeul, riding, reverse cowgirl, mating press, cumming again, surprisingly sweet

TW: nasty, a lot of cum by different people

Credit: @friskyriskywhisky had the idea and wrote most of it, I just expanded it as far as I could. Maybe there will be more Gangbang Queen stuff, but this was basically just a double BFH lol

(A/N: Have fun with this crazy, short piece!)

“I want one more…”

Gaeul lies on her nasty bed, which is not only the size of a New York apartment room but also a lot more comfortable. The fresh evidence of sin is all over the once royal pink bedsheet befitting of a princess, a queen to be more accurate. Her comically large pillow is full of wet fingerprints, there are even hints of Gaeul bending over it because she loves it when men penetrate her from behind and fuck her into the soft thing. The headboard and the walls nearby are all smeared with her own slick and the cum from the dozen of guys who unloaded a week's worth and then some for her, on her, because of her. Who knows how much genetic coding is now dripping down those walls, or the side of her bed or along her thighs.

Either way, Gaeul knows that the pungent creampie of hers only feels this good because at least ten horny men put their spunk deep into her cunt. Be it fat cocks, long ones, small, smelly, oddly shaped—Gaeul takes them all and her insides shape to each accordingly. For the horde of cocks it’s an incredible feeling with a surprising snugness, while Gaeul yearns and shouts (as long as there is no shaft testing her gag reflex) for them to finish quickly and deep. Though a marvelous feeling, she is never satisfied. She needs one more, she doesn’t even care if it’s the tiniest rest or a gigantic, creamy load—all that matters is that he cums inside her.

Gaeul’s once-animated and sex-crazed sexual partners have either left or completely passed out on the floor next to her bed—except lucky you, the only one lying naked next to her. Lucky you, who she now eyes, admiring your features while you're half asleep. She crawls over and gently flips you onto your back, stirring you awake in the process.

In your state of extreme grogginess, you aren't able to tell at first if you're being eaten alive or attacked by a savage animal. Just when your fight or flight response springs into action, a pair of lips press against yours. They instantly calm you down like a mothers embrace after a lucid nightmare. You can't help but smile unconsciously at how gentle it feels. Gaeul’s floral-scented shampoo reassures you who's currently kissing you, her touchy, wet and tender fingers reminding you of the first time she checked out your body…

It was a rainy night in one of the many underground bars in Seoul—the type of bar that makes you raise an eyebrow at first, someone with connections has recommended it, looks suspicious; then you fell into the trap of fun conversations and nice liquor that ultimately led to a selection ceremony. This was the moment you realized why this was not a commonly visited place.

Everyone went silent at her entry. Gaeul, the well-known (at least for most people that regularly visit these exclusive bars) gangbang queen was craving men tonight, many men. She was not picky, in fact, there was only one condition you had to fulfill:

“Three days worth of cum. If you had sex or jerked off during the last three days, you’re out for tonight.”

No one dared to defy her or lie to her. She diligently checked everyone’s balls and was extremely thorough, especially with you, who she gently pushed against a bar stool, hand past your waistband. Your breath hitched, hers too when her slender fingers caressed your balls.

“Tall, horny—and at least ten days of cum.

“I’d love for you to join the after party in my pink bed.”

That’s how Gaeul found you, touched you, lured you in and turned you on, like she does at this moment…

It's been minutes now, with no signs of stopping or letting go from Gaeul, her lips still fully attached to yours just to occasionally back off and peck at it again. The last remnants of a dream that could never match this disappear. They are replaced by memories that slowly creep back and your heart drops. You remember what happened not long ago, right on these pink sheets—don’t lie to yourself, you know it happens every other night.

Those soft lips of hers were satisfying other men not too long ago, fully enveloped around shafts of different shapes and sizes. That tongue of hers glided across the cockhead of multiple partners and made sure that no spot on their balls was left out. She would fill her mouth with as much manly musk and precum as she could before her throat was getting assaulted by who knows how many cocks, endlessly coating the back of it with thick cum and forcing her to gag and cry, which everyone knows is a huge turn on for the gangbang queen.

It’s those lips that form a seal around yours and it’s that mouth you attack lazily with your tongue.

Who are you to complain though? Gaeul is the greatest kisser your lips have ever met. Your obsession with her took control of your life even though you had no chance with her. You're just a nobody when Gaeul is the well-beloved queen. The gangbang queen - for those close enough to be her little circle filled with lust and desire. Yet somehow you saw a chance and took it, even if it means taking sloppy seconds (or thirds? Fifths? Wait, how many guys are here again?).

Your mind snaps back to the present when you feel your cock poking at her entrance. Hang on, did she even—fuck! You shiver in both pleasure and disgust. You're plunged into her sloppy cunt, extremely tight, even after being abused by multiple men (some girthier than the ridiculous sex toys she has in her collection). 

Gaeul’s walls hug your tip first, then slowly adjust to your size, like they have become your personal sexy toy. The pleasure really kicks in when the gangbang queen puts your hands on her hips and adds your name into the mixture of huffs and moans. Her incredibly damp cavern and how slippery her whole crotch is against your own, it displays a reality you don't want to admit: You're fucking Gaeul through the creampie of other men. Using the foreign substance as a sticky wannabe lube as you slowly ramp up your pace, you're thinking with your other head only; that’s not an uncommon occurrence with the gangbang queen around. 

Sex with her has you drunk, dazed, carelessly chasing your own high. You want to be the only one to have your load inside of her cunt. Gaeul yearns for breeding, and the sperm of all the other disgusting men, still unconscious in this room is deemed not enough. At this moment you decide to fuck the creampie out of her and replace it with your own.

You're frantically thrusting in and out of her, she replicates your passion as she rides you. Heaps of old cum get forced out with the assistance of gravity but mainly due to the pump that is your cock and the endless pumping into her cunt. Gaeul switches to a reverse cowgirl position and it's only now that you notice that her ass got absolutely filled as well. 

This should not be a surprise, she is the gangbang queen after all, yet you want to look away. This is exclusively other men's cum leaking out of Gaeul and onto your abs. It feels extremely wrong, fucking filthy and somewhat gross. The eagerness of the girl on your dick makes you forget that though. For a short while, you just admire her back, her small, shapely ass and the way her moans are in perfect harmony with the sound of flesh hitting flesh and cum being squeezed out. 

With your whole cock still buried inside her, bottoming her out, you two clumsily get into a mating press position. Gaeul is the most flexible girl you know, her small frame easily capable of folding and bending into every position you want. This position quickly becomes your favorite, because you don’t have to see her leaking asshole anymore, but you know that she is gaping and the worthless spunk steadily leaves her anal cavity. 

Every time you thrust into her, you see and feel her whole ass and thighs ripple. Shock waves across the smooth, stretched, spotless skin gets sent in all kinds of directions because you dig your hands into it. There's still a disgusting amount of cum defying gravity, defying your forceful pounding into Gaeul, but you are sure that if you just keep on fucking her, and press her whole body into the mattress, the petite gangbang queen will leak out all the rest. Through the lewdest of sounds and a clear lack of stamina, the thought of Gaeul filled with nothing but you pushes you through.

You feel the knot inside you loosen, strings and little last spurts of cum hitting her cervix as your tip is right up against it. Gaeul has her feet right up against your back, her heels pulling you deeper inside her. She's still rutting against you, her clit drawing circles against your crotch enjoying the friction and satisfaction it brings. The art of the orgasm, Gaeul has mastered it. In her scream, you find an infinite sea of bliss. It draws out your orgasm a few more seconds; perfect seconds.

Post-nut clarity kicks in and you try to block out the other people who are regaining consciousness in the room. Witness how ethereal her beauty is under the ceiling light. You want to kiss her. You want to tell her how much you love her. However, the harsh reality kicks in harder than the post-nut clarity as she shifts her gaze away from you and looks at the time. You close your eyes, take a deep breath to cherish just how fucking good her cock-warming cavern is. 

You pull away, unfazed at the mess in front of you at this point. Party time is over and you’re victorious but defeated, a bit deflated even. Why is the girl you’re falling for the wrong type of queen? 

"Hey..." Gaeul reaches out and grabs your forearm and pulls you a little closer to give you one last peck on your cheek. "Drive safely, okay?” Her fingers tiptoe towards your hand until it reaches the back of your it, her thumb gently rubs circles on it. A new level of intimacy that makes your heart stutter. “Message me when you’re back home."

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: possessive & obsessive sukuna, choking, lowkey stalking translations: piccola - little one/baby notes: listen to "salvatore" by lana del rey wc: 1.7k

In the dimly lit underbelly of the city, where shadows whispered secrets and alleys told tales of violence, there existed a figure feared and revered in equal measure: Sukuna Ryomen, the enigmatic leader of the most dangerous gang. His name struck terror into the hearts of those who dared oppose him, while his charisma drew countless souls into his fold.

Sukuna was a man who commanded respect without uttering a word. His mere presence exuded power, his icy gaze capable of silencing even the boldest of adversaries. With a network spanning the city's underworld, he held dominion over illicit trades, clandestine operations, and the very pulse of criminal activity.

Yet, amidst the chaos and the conquests, there was one enigma that eluded Sukuna’s grasp: a woman whose allure ignited a fire within him. You, a mysterious beauty with a spirit as untamed as the flames dancing in the night. You moved with a grace that defied the chaos around you, a silent tempest in the midst of the storm.

From the moment Sukuna laid eyes on you, he knew you were unlike any other. You were not bound by the rules of his world, nor swayed by the promises of power and wealth. Instead, you remained an enigmatic force, unyielding and unattainable.

Driven by an insatiable desire, Sukuna sought to possess you, to unravel the mysteries that shrouded your existence. He offered you riches beyond measure, a throne by his side where you could rule the underworld together. Yet, each offer was met with a gentle refusal, as you remained steadfast in your independence.

Frustration festered within Sukuna's heart, a tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. He was a man accustomed to getting what he desired, yet you remained beyond his reach, a tantalizing mirage in the desert of his ambitions.

Despite his best efforts to suppress the yearning that gnawed at his soul, Sukuna found himself inexorably drawn to you, like a moth to the flame. He watched from the shadows as you moved through the city, a silent guardian cloaked in mystery.

In the depths of the night, when the city slumbered and dreams took flight, Sukuna found himself haunted by visions of your captivating gaze. You were the one anomaly in his meticulously crafted world, the one puzzle he could not solve.

And so, amidst the chaos and the conquests, Sukuna Ryomen, a formidable leader, found himself ensnared by the one thing he could not possess: the heart of a woman who danced beyond his reach, a forbidden desire that burned brighter than any flame in the darkness.

In the depths of his lavish office, Sukuna sat with unwavering determination, his gaze fixed on the phone before him. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, a molten rage that threatened to erupt at any moment. With a swift motion, he seized the device, his fingers dancing across the screen with a commanding presence.

"Where are you, piccola?" he typed, each word a declaration of his unwavering dominance. "You cannot hide from me forever. I will find you, and when I do, you will answer to me."

There was no room for hesitation in Sukuna's messages, no trace of the desperation that had once plagued him. Instead, his words dripped with authority, each message a demand for her submission.

"Do not test my patience" he continued, his tone brooking no defiance. "You belong to me, and you will come to me willingly. There is no escape from my grasp."

With each message sent, Sukuna's resolve hardened, his determination driving him forward with unrelenting force. He would not be denied what was rightfully his, not by anyone, especially not by a woman who dared to defy him.

"Tell me where you are," he commanded, "I will not ask again."

But still, there was no response, no sign of surrender. Anger flared within Sukuna's chest, a wildfire of fury that threatened to consume him whole.

"If you think you can hide from me, you are sorely mistaken," his words a warning laced with venom. "I will tear this world apart to find you, and when I do, you will regret ever crossing me, piccola."

With a final message sent, Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his eyes burning with a fierce determination. He would not rest until you were in his grasp, until you bowed before him in submission. For in Sukuna Ryomen's world, there was no room for defiance, only dominance and control. And he would have it all, no matter the cost.

As Sukuna's fingers hovered over the screen, poised to send yet another commanding message, the door to his office swung open with a forceful creak. In strode one of his most trusted lieutenants, a figure cloaked in shadows and whispers, bearing news that ignited a spark of hope within Sukuna’s hardened heart.

"Boss," the subordinate – Toji – began, his voice low and deferential, "we've received word. She... she's in Miami."

The words hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing promise of victory amidst the tumultuous storm of Sukuna's emotions. Without a moment's hesitation, he rose from his seat, his movements swift and decisive.

"Prepare the jet," he commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "We leave immediately."

There was a sense of urgency in Sukuna’s tone, a hunger that burned brighter with each passing second. Miami beckoned like a siren's call, its neon-lit – ruby, blue and green, neon too – streets promising the chance to reclaim what was rightfully his.

As his subordinates scrambled to fulfill his orders, Sukuna's mind raced with thoughts of the woman who had eluded him for far too long. He could almost taste the sweet victory that lay within his grasp, the moment when you would finally bend to his will.

With a steely resolve and a heart set ablaze with determination, Sukuna embarked on his journey to Miami, a man possessed by a singular purpose: to capture the one who dared to defy him and to assert his dominance once and for all.

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting its golden rays upon the pristine sands of the Miami beach. Among the throngs of sun-seekers, Sukuna strode with purpose, his eyes scanning the shoreline with a predatory intensity. And there, amidst the azure waves and the gentle sway of palm trees, he spotted you.

You laid upon the sand, a vision of beauty that stole the breath from Sukuna's lungs. Clad in a bikini that left little to the imagination, you exuded an aura of confidence that only served to fuel his desire. Your bronzed skin glowed beneath the sun's warm embrace, your tousled hair cascading like silk upon the sand.

With measured steps, Sukuna approached, his gaze never wavering from the woman who had haunted his every thought. He stood before you now, a towering figure clad in shadows and sinew, his presence commanding the attention of all who dared to gaze upon him.

"Piccola," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "You cannot hide from me forever."

There was a flicker of defiance in your eyes, a spark that ignited the flames of desire within Sukuna's chest. But he would not be deterred, not by your beauty nor by your resolve. He had come too far, fought too hard, to let you slip through his fingers once again.

"You belong to me," he declared, his words laced with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. "And now, you will come with me."

But you remained unmoved, your gaze steady as you met his with a defiance that stirred something primal within him. You were a challenge, a tantalizing puzzle that begged to be solved, and Sukuna was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

“I was working on my tan, boss.”

"Working on your tan," he repeated, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within him. "In Miami, of all places."

There was a subtle tension in the air, a silent battle of wills as you and Sukuna locked gazes. Your defiance sparked a flicker of admiration within him, even as it fueled the flames of his frustration.

"Indeed," you replied, your tone cool and composed. "Is there a problem with that?"

Sukuna's jaw clenched, a silent testament to the storm of emotions swirling beneath his stoic facade. He had come too far, searched too long, to be met with such casual indifference.

"No problem," he finally replied, his voice a low growl. "But I must insist that you accompany me. We have unfinished business, you and I."

Your lips curved into a sardonic smile, a glimmer of amusement dancing in your eyes. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, boss. I have many businesses, all of them quite finished."

Sukuna's patience wore thin, his frustration bubbling to the surface like molten lava. He had pursued you across oceans and continents, faced down countless adversaries in his quest to claim you as his own. And yet, she remained as elusive as ever, a tantalizing enigma that refused to be solved.

"Enough games, piccola," he snapped, his tone cutting through the air like a knife. "You cannot hide from me forever. Sooner or later, you will bend to my will."

The tension crackled between you like electricity as Sukuna's hand shot out, seizing you by the throat with a force that bordered on violence. His grip was firm, unyielding, a silent declaration of dominance that sent a shiver down your spine.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as you stood locked in a primal embrace, your gazes locked in a fierce battle of wills. But beneath the surface, a different kind of energy simmered—a raw, unbridled desire that pulsed between you like a current of electricity.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as Sukuna's grip tightened, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin like branding marks. And yet, there was no fear in your eyes, only a smoldering heat that mirrored his own.

With a low growl, Sukuna leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear with a tantalizing promise. "You cannot resist me, piccola," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You were made for me, and you know it."

A shudder ran through your body as you felt the heat of Sukunas breath against your skin, your pulse racing with a heady mixture of fear and excitement. You knew that you were as drawn to him as he was to you—a dangerous truth that sent a thrill coursing through your veins.

“You will always belong to me.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Holiday Spirit

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You don't have travel plans for the holidays

Running away to play football in a foreign country wasn't one of your smartest moves but it was certainly one of your best.

You just wished that it didn't mean fielding questions of what you were doing for Christmas.

"When do you need to get back?" Lucy asked you one morning as you changed. She was leaning against your locker, typing away at her phone.

"Where? Home? I've got homework to do later. I think Mapi told Alexia that she would come over to supervise me. I can't go out with you."

"No, I mean for Christmas. When do you need to be back in England? Me and Keira are looking at flights. We're happy to take you back with us. Give you over to your parents when we land."

You laughed awkwardly. "Thanks but I don't need to fly back with you guys."

Lucy gave you a weird look before she nodding. "Your parents are flying out to spend Christmas here. That's nice."

You didn't have the heart to tell her that you hadn't spoken to your parents since they gave you permission to go to Barcelona and then promptly kicked you out. So, you just didn't answer her.

You were sure that it had been swept under the rug after that but Lucy must have brought it up in conversation because, as you pushed your lunch around your plate, Paredes slumped into the seat next to you.

You gave her an odd look. Irene didn't tend to sit on this side of the room. She usually kept to the older girls while you usually ended up squished between Ona and Salma - though both of them had been kept behind for media.

"Er...hi?"

She narrowed her eyes at you, like she was trying to work something out.

"Hello? If this is a test to get me to work on my Spanish, it's not going to work. I can sit in complete silence."

"When are your parents flying out?" She asked.

Your stomach plummeted and you placed down your fork. "Who told you my parents were flying out?"

"Lucy said that you didn't need to fly out with her and Keira."

"I didn't tell her that my parents were flying out," You insisted," Just that I didn't need to fly with her and Keira."

Technically, you weren't lying. That was what you told Lucy. You were already at rock bottom. You just had to get the pickaxe out and keep digging.

"Hmm," Paredes said, staring at you for a long while," You're an unaccompanied minor. Someone would have to drop you off at the airport. If you want one of us to take you there that's fine but Lucy and Keira would be the safer bet."

You just laughed awkwardly, not entirely sure how to bring up that you definitely weren't going home and your parents definitely weren't coming to you either.

"Ha, I guess so."

Paredes looked at you for a moment longer. "I want your travel plans by the end of the week. If you don't want to travel with Lucy and Keira, that's fine, but we need to know who's getting you to the airport."

Safe to say, you never did get back to Paredes about your non-existent travel plans. You hunkered down in the little apartment the club paid for and wrapped a blanket tightly around your shoulders.

Usually, the building was full of your international teammates but with Christmas in a week, everyone had already gone home - except for you.

You were content though, with all your lights off, dressed in fuzzy pyjamas as you cradled a cup of hot chocolate. A movie had been put on for background noise but you were busy skimming through tiktok on your phone so you weren't really watching it.

A knock sounded at you door.

You ignored it. You never opened the door when someone randomly knocked. Everybody knew to text you first.

Case and point: The banging got louder and louder and, honestly, you just hoped that the drunkard outside your door would realise they had the wrong apartment soon.

Your phone screen lit up with an incoming call.

You frowned.

"Hello?"

A sharp suck of breath came from Patri. "You're alive." She raised her voice. "She's alive! Where are you?"

"At home? Why?"

"Which home?" She asked urgently.

"What do you mean which home? To my knowledge, I only have one."

"Spain or England?"

"Spain. Patri, seriously, you're freaking me out here."

"Open your door."

"What?"

"Open your door right now!"

You didn't really want to, not with the drunk guy outside of it but something in Patri's voice made you obey her.

You swung open the door.

A body slammed into you, an arm around your shoulders and a hand cradling the back of your head.

"You're okay," Alexia said, sounding slightly choked up," You're okay."

You peered over her shoulder, seeing a group of your teammates behind her.

Patri.

Pina.

Paredes.

You could just about see Aitana and Marta making their way down the corridor too.

"Why...wouldn't I be okay?" You asked.

Alexia didn't release you, holding you close so it was Paredes that answered.

"Because we asked Keira if you had gotten back to your parents safely but she said that you never flew with her. So, we asked Mapi and Ingrid if they dropped you off but they said you hadn't even mentioned needing to go to the airport."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared, peering into your dark apartment.

"And I don't see your parents anywhere."

You glared back at her. "I never said anything about meeting my parents."

Patri and Pina winced and you knew that it was the wrong thing to say when you felt Alexia tense. She pulled back and looked at you.

"What do you mean you never talked about meeting your parents?" She asked sharply.

"Why would I meet with my parents?"

"It's Christmas!"

"Technically, it's a week before Christmas."

"Don't sass me!"

You shrunk a little under the weight of Alexia's glare and you wondered briefly if you could shove everyone out of your apartment and swing the door shut in your face.

But, given the way that Alexia was holding you, and the way that Marta and Paredes were guarding your door, you gathered that that wasn't a good idea.

Aitana, Patri and Pina (the little rats) had all made themselves comfortable in your house, flicking on the lights and helping themselves to your slightly lukewarm mug of hot chocolate - leaving you completely at the mercy of the older players.

The combined weight of Marta, Paredes and Alexia's stares had you awkwardly chuckling.

"Sooo...It's kind of late. I should probably head to bed, huh? We should talk tomorrow. Good? Good."

"And let you sneak out of that conversation too?" Paredes said," Not a chance. Where are your parents?"

"England, I assume. Unless they've fallen off the face of the earth which, admittedly, would be pretty cool."

"And why are you here and they aren't?"

You shrugged. "Because?"

"That's not an excuse," Marta said warningly when it look like steam was about to come out of Paredes and Alexia's ears," The truth, now."

"Why I'm here and my parents aren't? I don't know if you've noticed but that's always the case."

Patri, Pina and Aitana snickered on the sofa, flicking through your Netflix account for something to watch.

"No more sass," Alexia said firmly," I mean it or you're going to be in some serious trouble." She sounded pretty serious too so you just sighed.

"I...I'm not going back to England for Christmas."

"Obviously," You heard Patri mutter but you ignored her.

"And your parents?" Alexia probed.

"They're staying in England for Christmas."

Silence reigned through your little apartment although you knew that everyone had already suspected what you had said. It was just different when it was finally said out loud.

"Why isn't your Mama coming to see you?" Paredes asked, a mother herself so you gathered something like this hit close to home.

You shrugged. "We don't talk. I don't talk to either of my parents. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal!"

Alexia looked like she was about to burst into tears on your behalf which was something that you didn't quite understand but just kind of rolled with.

Aitana gently guided you over to the sofa like she thought you were about to break at a moment's notice, squishing you between her and Pina while Alexia, Paredes and Marta took refuge a bit further away on your armchairs.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Marta asked when it looked like Alexia had finally gotten a hold of herself.

"What's there to tell?" You said dismissively, swatting at Pina until she surrendered your hot chocolate back to you. It was practically cold now but you had made it using milk instead of water and you would be damned if you let it go to waste.

"Maybe about why you're avoiding seeing your parents?"

To your credit, your voice was more steady than you felt. "We don't talk anymore. They said it was either football or them." You gestured to your apartment, to the teammates scattered around your living room. "I chose football."

"And your parents were okay with that?" Marta asked.

"Well, clearly not, seeing as we're all sitting here, having this conversation." You scoffed in amusement. "In fact, I think my dad even said that if I ever showed my face again while playing football that he would swing at me."

It sounded harsh in the ears of your teammates but to you it wasn't. Your father always threatened bodily harm even against the most mundane of things like a driver cutting him off in traffic.

Alexia, in particular, looked stricken at your confession. You kind of understood. You knew that her father had been her biggest supporter and that each and every time she stepped on the pitch she wanted to do well in his memory.

You...not so much.

Anytime you stepped onto the pitch, it was a like a big middle finger to your parents (although you knew that they wouldn't even be bothered to watch any of your matches).

"That's not funny," Paredes said firmly," You father shouldn't have said that to you."

You just shrugged again, rolling your eyes. "Is this meeting of the Spanish Inquisition over? I've got a show to watch."

There was silence for a moment before Aitana spoke, sounding completely heartbroken.

"You're spending Christmas alone?"

"Yeah? Sorry, did I not make that clear?"

"Don't be silly," Alexia said though, talking over you completely as she typed on her phone," Of course she's not spending Christmas alone."

You glanced over at Patri and Pina, just in case they were privy to something that you weren't but they both just look as confused as you.

"Er...No, I am. I just said that."

"And I just said that you're not."

You cocked your head to the side. "I-I don't think that's how it works. You can't just speak stuff in existence."

"I'm not. You're spending Christmas with me."

"I don't remember agreeing to that."

"You didn't need to." She held up her phone. "Mami already agreed. She's asking if you're allergic to anything?"

"Um, no...Wait, hey! You can't just kidnap me! I'm fine being on my own."

"You're sixteen," Marta said," Go back with Alexia. You can have a proper Spanish Christmas. Her mum makes good food."

"I don't need a proper Spanish Christmas and I don't need good food. Everything I need, is right here."

"Oh, yeah?" Patri teased," Powder hot chocolate and microwaveable meals. You're eating like a queen, really taking care of yourself."

You stuck your tongue out at her before looking back at Alexia. "Honestly, I'm fine here. Your mum doesn't need to make me food or anything."

"Funny," Alexia said though her tone made it seem anything but," I don't remember this being a discussion. Besides, I already told Mami. She'll be very upset with me if I don't bring you along."

You huffed, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this now. "You didn't have to do that. I was perfectly fine by myself."

"You're sixteen," Alexia replied," You shouldn't have be 'perfectly fine' by yourself. Aitana, help her pack her bags. Patri, Pina...I know you were planning to do it anyway but raid the fridge. Make sure nothing will go off while she's away."

"Wait, we're going now?!"

"Si, now. You said it earlier. It is late. You should go to bed. The sooner you're packed, the sooner we can go."

"Can't you just get me tomorrow?"

"No." She waved a dismissive hand as Aitana dragged you away. "Off you go. And remember to pack a scarf!"

[bitterchocoo]

A funny request that I have in mind

Male Xianyun(genshin impact) reader telling embarrassing stories of the High-Cloud Quintet to Stella/Caelus, March 7th, Dan Heng and Yanqing

High-Cloud Quintet Troubles

M. Reader as Xianyun [Genshin Impact] (Platonic)

----------

I don't know if they could even be called embarrassing. But they're definitely random.

----------

The days in the Loufu were quiet. Everything seems to be peaceful once the whole crisis was resolved. That is.. until Dan Heng meet an "old friend"...

"Baiheng managed to scare Jing Yuan enough with her stories to the point he would bolted right out of bed out of fright. He wasn't able to sleep for days!" He says casually, sipping his tea. March and Caelus burst out laughing as the image of a frighten General comes to mind, the "all mighty" General, shaking like a leaf over some scary story from a Foxian. Their laughter is quite nice on the ear. It's been centuries since [Name] could enjoy moments like this. Oh and the look on the youngsters face is just wonderful. "Um.. [Name].. you don't really have to.." "Oh please, I insist."

Dan Heng shifted his gaze awkwardly amongst the group. Don't get him wrong, a reunion is always nice. But he didn't think it would be like this. Surely the elder would run out of stories, right..?

Oh how wrong he was..

"One time Baiheng was so dizzy from a flight test she fell out of the starskiff the moment it landed!"

"Wait, really?" March asked curiously. The famed starskiff piolet herself, can actually be somewhat clumsy? She thought the Foxian was perfect in all sorts of ways!

"Oh, I almost forgot! Jingliu had once become a walking cooler for everyone, her abnormally cold temperature actually has its use during intense heat."

"She what?!" Yanqing exclaimed. The Grand Swordmaster? Really? Caelus snickers at the mental image, everyone laying on each limp of the cold swordmaster's body just to cool off. What a sight that must be!

"And that one time where Yingxing was sick, Dan Feng nearly overdosed him with medicine. The prescription for short-lived species are different after all, but that somehow flew over his head."

Dan Heng remain silent at the elder's words, averting his eyes as he took a sip of his tea. It seems the High Elder isn't as "precise" as everyone says.

"Speaking of Yingxing, during his process in making weapons, he would craft some questionable items out. It's hard to describe but it's no doubt bizarre. The best way I can describe it is of a child who just discover pottery."

"They're that bad?"

"Bad? They were horrendous!!"

Caelus lets out a laugh at the other mental image, he could imagine what types of "weapons" Yingxing was creating and dubbed it as a prototype. Well at that point, might as well trust the process had become a mantra.

As much as people praise and hold the High Cloud Quintent in such high regards. They doesn't seem all that perfect when [Name]'s the one telling the story. The mighty group sounded more like friends messing around, having fun, and.. creating memories.

[ranticore]

visored longwing harpies & the hall of faces

I did say there was no exclusive global culture on Siren shared by humans of a certain body type, and I lied, because there is One.

The early settlers on Siren were the unaltered human workforce of a certain megacorporation. While an almost unlimited budget was poured into the dodgy gene programs, since that was why they chose to settle a planet so far out of the reach of The Authorities, everything else was done pretty cheaply, including the settling itself. In order to map out their new home planet, incredibly cheap mass-produced aircraft were used by pilots. These aircraft could be made quickly and easily at the settlement site because they lacked a flight computer or any real sensors - or any equipment at all in the cockpit. Rather than a multitude of different equipment loadouts on an aircraft that would take time and effort to swap out or maintain, the pilots instead used these visors which were universally compatible with the one-size-fits-all aircraft. It's kind of like how it's easier to just carry a phone around with a calculator app than it is to carry a phone and a calculator, even if the phone app calculator experience sucks by comparison.

The visors were the real expensive kit, each custom built to a pilot's exact needs and flight style, and they were built to last. the aircraft fell apart in the following centuries but the visors remained, hyperlight plastic powered by the planet's native star, and something interesting happened. The remains of the first settlement were largely inaccessible to anyone but longwing harpies, and these harpies had the right head shape to fit the visors. Many of the pilots had filled their visors with video and photo files from home, from Earth, like a worker decorating his cubicle with photos of his family. Some had been decorated on the outside, as well, resembling birds. The harpies that found the visors obviously tried to use them. They found themselves experiencing visions of strange worlds, recordings of long-dead pilots and ATC, and found that each visor can interface with every other one, no matter how far apart. Each visor came with its own callsign, its own name, which has remained for thousands of years - and because of this, each visor is considered by the cultures of Siren to be a named character with a distinct personality (eg. the swan visor was cygnus2, it is known now as Signastoo)

I keep posting the map and it needs to be redrawn but essentially every red triangle is an ancient telecomm tower. These became the only remaining waypoints on the visors' HUD and mapping software, meaning that 1. a true global culture could emerge, with longwings gathering at these sites, and 2. visored longwings became the gold standard for navigation on Siren. In a world that is basically just water, that's a big deal.

There exist only a few thousand visors (about 3k I'd say). The unused visors are kept in the Hall of Faces, the ancient aviation bay at the first settlement in West. Because of how water levels and land structures have changed over the years, this building exists on a mesa that rises another few thousand feet out of the water, with sheer sides, and is utterly inaccessible to anyone but a longwing harpy. When a visored harpy dies, the visor is returned here. If you want to claim a visor, you need to hold an interview with one of the elders at the site, who will test you rigorously to see if you can inhabit the character of one of the visors. If not, too bad. If you do get it, it's yours until either you die or you do something considered 'out of character' for the wearer of that particular visor. It is DEEPLY discouraged to steal a visor off anyone because it would be largely impossible, given how they all can communicate (imagine a gigantic worldwide discord server where the location & name of every person is known at all times... the drama is likely insane but at least if someone steals a visor, everyone will know about it)

not every longwing desires a visor because it comes with a lot of responsibility alongside its automatic prestige, and you can't really give it up once you have it. also there's always the possibility of being diagnosed with a super annoying, glitchy, or hated visor character lol. but among the roughly 2700 visored harpies on Siren there does exist a global culture exclusive to them. they chat to one another long-distance, engage in closed-practice ceremonies where they all get high and look at videos of Earth, and essentially become a class outside the mundanity of normal life on Siren. to the rest of the population, they basically become telepathic wizards

Terwyef's visor (first pic) is called Scrappercharlee and is one of the more common models, tho it has been decorated over the years with extra bits. Scrappercharlee is a bit busted and half the HUD is missing. Miakef's visor (second pic) Signastoo is one of the very fancy and well-known ones, it's shaped like a swan's head and likely belonged to a high-ranking pilot who could afford a bit of frippery and showmanship back in the day. Birds do not exist on Siren and harpies are mammals so the swan itself is symbolically meaningless, but the bird-style visors introduce the idea of 'a bird' in the abstract, and this has been imbued with its own form of meaning by harpies.

[cupcakeslushie]

What condition does donnie have in EW?

Schizophrenia?

Well, it’s a mix of PTSD from his childhood trauma, and hallucinations from being slightly exposed to Empyrean. So, while it’s all partly a cause based off fantasy, I do try and do my research to keep it in the realm of something concrete. Donnie has audio/visual hallucinations, depersonalization/dissociation, memory blanks, etc…. Pile that all, on top of his genius brain fighting a chaotic, disorganized mind that’s constantly in fight or flight mode.

I’ve had a few people say they recognize certain aspects of themselves in my Donnie, and so I think it’s less about assigning a specific name to what Donnie has, and more about the story of how he and the people that love him, help him in figuring out how to live a good life, while handling all the trauma he’s been through!

I’m right there with you, and that’s probably one of those things I gave all the boys to some extent, because damn, if that wasn’t me when I was younger 😅. I’ve since moved on to using less harmful means of stress relief, but it remains something that I just instantly read as an anxious habit lol—it’s just the levels and ways each of the boys exhibit it that vary.

Leo is the one more likely to pick and scratch to harm, because unfortunately, he does his as a type of holdover, self-flagellating from even the tiniest of mistakes. Mikey gets distracted with thinking up ideas, and bites his nails, sometimes a little too deeply. To the point where he’s drawing blood—it also sucks because he loves painting his nails. Raph will chew on his palms and knuckles from anxiety, but his skin is so tough, that he rarely does actual damage. Donnie will pick and scratch at everything—his hands, his arms, his face—especially when he hits a frustrating road-block. It won’t even register that he’s broken skin—his pain tolerance is so fucked up.

Donnie’s worst near death experience was, of course, the vivisection. He didn’t follow any after-care instructions, and infection very nearly killed him. Most of the other stuff was, of course, physically and mentally scarring, but not life-threatening. Thanks to being spaced out, with time for recovery, where Draxum just flat out ignored Three’s existence. As far as testing his endurance in the sleep department. Draxum made Three create a smaller, more refined version of the collars he made for Big Mama. When Draxum was tired of dealing with Three, but still feeling slightly generous, he’d force him to wear the device, rather than just chaining him up to the table. The watch would track Three’s heart rate and keep his path confined to set rooms only. Any time the watch detected Three was falling asleep, or outside of his approved perimeter, it would, you guessed it—shock him!

[sonnyaavce]

Chapter 1

The team remained neutral as the sprite slowly floated down the flight of stairs, his form flickering in luminescence as it guides them to where his body is, but according to Robin it was just an ‘empty room’

‘Are we sure he isn’t taking us out in secret?’ commented Wally in the shared mind link, Artemis glared at him annoyed and whacked him hardly on the shoulder ‘stop being such a baby! He’s harmless enough!’

‘But how sure are we that he won’t harm us once he’s back on his body!’ fumbled the speedster towards the archer ‘there’s always a catch, no favor is free!’ 

‘I see your point Kidd but as Artemis and Zatanna says he’s a projection not a physical entity’ adds Megan as she floats  closer to Robin and Connor ‘But if what our mentors told us is true about this mission, then there’s a possibility that they unintentionally missed some important information’

‘what we know about this mission is that this was once a facility own by and organization called GIW, who were using some type of pure concentrated Lazarus water to power up some kind of weaponry's and clean energy plants; we also know that they moved theirs bases all around the globe by using some kind of portal, so that’s all the information that we have on paper but if what Megan says it’s true then..’ ponders Kaldur, his steps faltering a bit as he slows down.

Robin scoffed at this ‘I bet this is one of Batman usual test-‘ when a screech interrupted him; the group managed to catch themselves before running down the stairs.

“Why the fuck would you keep doing t-?!” growled Connor at the figure, before freezing in shock as the visage of the small kid started to glitch, in and out of focus. Like an old DVD player making interference. Arms going missing for a second before the legs and the head followed suit.

A silent scream muted in the child’s face, horror margin it was the last visage they managed to catch before the small child disappeared again. Shit.

TBC-

masterpost

[promptedwordsmith]

I have a request my birthday is on March 3 so can you write something with the LDS boys?!?

Hi, thanks for the ask! I wasn't sure what you wanted me to write since I've already done a birthday post so I hope you don't mind what I chose instead! Happy birthday!!

(ps I also gave Caleb a shot as an extra treat I hope that's OK!)

LADS guys when you get injured

Rafayel:

Is furious but he’s not sure at who, you? The wanderer? Himself? He can’t believe it happened, it could have been so much worse, you could have died and what was he doing? Painting peacefully in his studio.

Is very clingy for the next few weeks, appearing at your door to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, and that’s after you had convinced him to not just sleep at your apartment.

When the doctor declares you fit to go back to work Rafayel refuses and makes you go for a second opinion, claiming the first is delusional, claiming you still had a slight limp and if you limped on the battlefield it could get you killed.

Claims he needs to nurse you back to health and he doesn’t tease you as much, he’s quite serious actually.

Tries to make you foods that are good for healing, three meals a day and thinks you don’t notice when he slips out to call the nutritionist he hired and collect the food from the chef.

Xavier:

Everything considered, he would give you the silent treatment while tenderly taking care of you, he’s supposed to be your partner at work and outside of work so why were you out there without him? If he had been there the wanderer wouldn’t have had even the slightest chance of hurting you like it did.

He’s constantly thinking about what could have happened and is more driven than ever to be there when you needed him.

When he did start talking to you again, he made sure to drill into your head how it made him feel for you to not even think of getting his help, that he understood you were strong and capable but that he was always available, he knows he could have made a difference and it’s never too safe to bring back up.

Makes sure you go to doctors’ appointments; he may not take proper care of himself, but everything be damned before he let you work yourself to death with this injury.

 Tries to make you food but quickly learns if he wants you to be stationary and comfortable, he should not even approach the kitchen, opting to order the healthiest takeaways he can, sulking a bit you don’t trust him with the oven.

Zayne:

As your doctor he’s startled when you appear with a large injury, but he’s instantly more comfortable when he finds its mainly just superficial, doesn’t stop him from lecturing you about how you could let that happen.

Makes you go through every test he can justify you getting to check there’s no poison or corruption or anything that could risk your life in anyway and pays special attention to your heart.

He’s now more concerned for your safety, especially about if this is going to be more common and starts researching wanderers and whether they were getting stronger or smarter to cause this, start keeping up with any news on wanderer evolution.

Schedules a few more appointments for you than is really necessary but since its large he justifies it as a higher chance of infection because of its location, even though he’s busy he just extends his working hours to see you in a professional capacity or if he can’t do that because of working laws he’ll come see you as soon as his shifts are over to check on it.

When he’s sure you’re healed he reluctantly signs you fit for duty and gives you a stern lecture about avoiding those types of injuries in the future.

Caleb:

Doesn't hear about it for a while because he's occupied by his job, but the second he does he's desperately calling you and texting you, all while booking time off, a flight back and buying you get well soon gifts.

As soon as he's home, he's giving you a big hug asking how you are, what happened, "what does the other guy look like?" in a teasing tone.

Promises he's sticking around for at least a week, preferably until you're feeling better though, and makes you all your favourite food while he's there, insisting you stay at your grandma's while you recover so they can both dote on you.

Let's you talk his ear off, spends the whole time reminiscing with you and doing things you did together when you were younger, just being more careful with you of course.

When you eel better and before he leaves he makes you promise not to get hurt again any time soon, and makes sure you know he'll tease you like crazy if you do, ruffling your hair before he goes.

[honestsycrets]

enfócate ii: non-negotiable

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | miguel has to choose his battles: insist on removing peter from your life or get what he wants.

❛ tags | schoolgirl au, spanish tutor!miguel, Miguel's jealousy, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, fuck boy Miguel, mention of physical assault, hurt peter, mention of violence, breakups, non-penetrative smut, slightly unknowledgeable reader, silly playtime.

❛ sy's notes | masterlist here. please READ THE TAGS. on this fic particularly, i seem to encounter people who trigger themselves.

Miguel had many girls.

None gave a shit when it came down to it. They talked a good game over text messages and phone calls, tried their best to please him sexually, and snuck into their bed. They might even have lunch or dinner with him. Very rarely this.

He was doing his notes that Monday afternoon, scribbling away when his phone lit up. He flicked a look, realizing it was your photo that popped up. Not the many cum stained photos he had in his phone in your own folder. Those were not safe for any of his bosses to see, but one of those sweet photos that Peter’s taken.

Miguel isn’t stupid. He knows a love-sick puppy when he sees one. One look at Peter’s socials reveals many things: volunteering with a high school club to teach photography, stupid little flowers that he finds gorgeous, a number of subjects for his fine arts degrees, and on Sunday-- you. Sitting on a chunky rock in a beautiful dress in a stream, the sun bouncing off your strawberry-dusted cheeks. He has to do something about Peter.

“¿Qué pasó, Princesa? I’m finishing my notes.”

“I have something for you,” you answered. “Come outside.”

“For me?” Miguel tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder, closing his manilla folder that held a time-sensitive report. Miguel grabbed his keys and wallet, heading for the door. Everyone else was gone for the day, but Miguel did his homework in the lab.

“Sí,” you laughed. “¿Quién más?”

“Tch,”

At least those Spanish lessons are paying off. Miguel rushes down the three flights of stairs in record time and pops out the back door. You pushed past the archways into the beautiful gardens that usually obscure pedestrians from staring at scientists as they quickly woof down their food and bolt back inside to deal with whatever piteous work they had. Miguel slips on his dark sunglasses, turning his arms one over another. You have time to stop and appreciate nature, more than he could say about even himself.

“Princesa,” he hangs up the phone and takes a few steps to the tables where you were, twirling around the scent of fragrant orange blossoms. He bites back an amused smile, his voice picking up in a humored lilt. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing!” you hopped on one stone table, then the other.

“Don’t fall,” Miguel snatches you short of falling off the third table, setting your ass down with a mindful pull of your dark burgundy skirt over your thighs. “Why did you call?”

You supply him with a wicker picnic basket that was hooked over your elbow, pulling open the flap. The warm smell of meat and corn greeted his nose, finally shaking loose the smile that he had suppressed since you first called him.

“I brought you dinner.”

He blinks.

“Me?”

“You said you had to study for your test,” you looked up at the red brick building, “It’s better if you don’t get distracted by going out for food.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he usually brings his own food, regimented as he is. Miguel sets his hands on your hips and watches as you pull free whatever it was you made him. You set aside the basket and offer him the glass container and a bag of tamales, enveloped in their warm little husks.

“Menudo. And these are tamales con carne. My familia makes them every year. I brought them just for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he murmured.

“But I wanted to.” You reached for the envelope collar of his lab coat, smoothing it down against his chest. “Besides, every one of my primas do it for their men. I can’t keep just bringing food home for Peter.”

It’s not that serious, he wants to say. There’s something soft about the way you recount it to him. He can’t stand to go against what you’re saying and instead sets the food back in its home, tucking your hair behind your ear. He traces the shell to your lobes, flicking his finger against the dripping earrings.

“Come upstairs.”

“No,” you answer quickly, leaning up to place a meager little kiss on his cheek. “You should be studying and if I go up there…”

He’d definitely get in trouble bringing his fuck buddy up to his office. Still, it might be worth it.

“I won’t get anything done,” he finishes. “Give me a real goodbye kiss.”

“You didn’t like that kiss?”

“It was a sad kiss.”

Peter was an essential part of your life.

He was closer than a friend if such things spaces between friendship and relationships existed. You supposed that in the absence of romantic relationships, friendships were the next best thing. Who else, but family, would support you? You nibbled on a hunk of toast with sweetened cream cheese and frozen berries ala Peter, whose head draped over your thigh. Your fingers combed through his thin brown hair, twirling bits around your index finger as he lay with a full belly and fuller thoughts.

“Sooo, how did it go?” Peter asked, staring at fluffy clouds that whirled by that perfectly cozy afternoon. “Did my super awesome plan go perfectly?”

You’re too shy to talk about it.

“Aw it did, didn’t it? I knew it!” Peter reached up, tickling his fingers through the ribbons of a pearl headband you wore that day. “Is he good? I hear all kinds of stuff about him.”

“Peter,” blood rushed to your face. “We haven’t…”

“Haven’t what?” he asked. “Ohhh. Oh. You haven’t fucked him? I thought…”

“We did-- just not that,” you patted his warm pink cardigan, flapping your hand down. “We haven’t you know--”

“Had sex?”

Peter could be too much sometimes. Today was one of those aggravating days. You settled down your hunk of toast, bobbing your head in a nod, eager to explain without making the words. “Just… oral. I couldn’t Peter, I’m not ready yet.”

“I know,” Peter’s tone goes soft. “But he can’t be happy about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time Miguel has a new girl, he makes sure to fuck them as soon as possible. Keeps ‘em connected, or something, or that’s what Dana says.”

“Who’s Dana?” you chirped after him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You… looked so sad seeing him with someone else. I couldn’t… break your heart like that."

“You couldn’t tell me, but you could kiss me?”

“It was a nice kiss. Isn’t it about time for him to stomp past here?”

You wonder what Peter might mean by that. He slid his eyes shut, humming with one long leg thrown over the other. About time for his afternoon nap until you shook him awake because of your sore arms or back-- whichever came first. He slides his eyes shut, going to sleep under the feeling of your fingers twirling through his hair.

“You’re impossible, Peter.”

Peter was always right. You spotted your muscular man walking past the hedges, in a clean white shirt that obscured nothing about his muscles. You thought he would do what he usually did: wave, move on, talk to whatever whore of the day was on his arm.

He was walking with a girl who was tall and lithe. She made no moves to cling onto him as he slipped down the slight grassy slope where you sat with Peter, reviewing the intricacies of corrugated pottery before class. Your heart soared in your chest as he crouched down, a hand on his knee, scanning Peter’s face.

“I thought we talked about this.”

You didn’t expect those to be the first words out his lips, but lo, they were. He regarded Peter the same way he might an annoying animal with their favourite human, with blatant distaste and a passing hint of jealousy. You didn’t understand why.

“About…”

“Other men.”

“Peter isn’t another man. He’s non-negotiable.”

Miguel’s thick eyebrows pushed together as he processed the blatant line in the sand that you drew. You weren’t about to give up your dear friend, picnic dates at lunch, or photography shoots on the weekend for a man you sucked off. No matter how good he tasted and how thick his muscles were, crouched with those wild chocolate eyes.

“I’ll stay away from other men-- but not him. You take it or leave it.”

Miguel worked his jaw, clearly debating on the value of fighting you then and there. Miguel didn’t negotiate. It was never in his nature.

“Miggy,” called the woman on the sidewalk. She wore a dark bob, a streak of purple spiraling along her head. She has a terribly squeaky tone, one that is full of ire from having to say anything at all. “The samples.”

“This isn’t over, Princesa.”

He relented. Not because he wanted to, but because time was undoubtedly limited. You were pretty sure it was.

Miguel is breaking another rule. Not only does he glaze over Peter in your life, but he brings you to his apartment for tutoring. He’d deal with Peter after he secured you. You were proving one of the most difficult of his women to keep.

Come over, it'll be private, he claimed in a text message. It’s absolutely not to peel away your soft pale pink panties nestled up against your cunt, drag them down your hips, and onto the floor. He’ll keep those.

It’s not because the desk in the study room would do nothing to obscure his sinewy frame, shoving your legs apart and dragging you to the very edge of the seat.

“Take your vocabulary quiz.” You nibbled on your pencil as Miguel buried his head between your thighs, biting down on your thick thighs to encourage you to spread your legs wider. You breathed out an elongated hiss at another bite to your opposing thigh.

“Pero, Miguel-- how…” you murmured, making the mistake of looking between your legs. Miguel met your gaze, possessed with the smell of your body. You greet him with a choked-out groan of his name the second his mouth connected with your pussy. He knew you would taste sweet.

“It’s very simple. You start writing,” The quiz should be easy. A simple finish the sentences with the right word and vocabulary word box to boot. It was terribly easy-- if not for Miguel’s tongue suckling the juices that dripped from your core, you might have already finished it. It was hard-- too hard-- to focus on anything but Miguel’s warm tongue prodding your cunt, his fingers sliding within your hole. Miguel urges his finger around the rim. “Preferably something in Spanish.”

His tongue slid from your entrance to your clitoral hood. Another finger joins the first, twisting and pulling apart your impossibly tight hole. He just knew you would feel amazing. He suckled along your lips, suckling them wet as you struggled to read and make any sense of what was on the page. It wasn’t going to happen.

“Miguel, Miguel--” Your voice drew out, it had been so long since you had a partner. “Dame más.”

“There you go,” Miguel hummed, closing his mouth around your puffy clit in worship for the admittance. The pencil tumbled free from your fingers. Without thinking, your hand buried into Miguel’s silky dark brown hair, rolling your hips onto his face to pursue an orgasm. He suckled it fat and needy, his fingers curving in your body. With a soft sob, the pleasure caused you to gush messily all over his fingers. Your fingers knotted up in his hair, riding his face until you’re left with nothing but the cozy haze of your pleasure.

You don’t know how you’re going to pass this stupid language requirement now.

Miguel kisses you, soft and sweet, gentle and light. You taste yourself on his tongue and worry about the way you taste. Miguel doesn’t seem to have a single complaint. He grabs your hands, helping you to stand upright, even though your legs were as stable as a newborn giraffe’s. With your body against Miguel’s, you could feel the outline of his cock nice and hard, tenting his sweatpants.

“Should we take this to bed?”

“I…” you asked, shyly so. “I’m not ready for that. Is that… okay?”

Coño. It’s not the answer he hoped for, but Miguel can be patient. He dips his head down and resigns himself to a night of jerking himself off. He had been looking forward to today, fucking his new girl. He steeled himself from any reaction that may inch across his face and offered you his hand.

“Claro que sí, princesa,” Miguel finds himself saying. It’s not that you can’t retract the consent, but he knows that you have some shyness to do so. He rather honesty over concern for his ego. The session had at least been an hour-- with Miguel’s focus fading at the sight of your cute little pink dress. “We can stop here. You can take the test as homework. Have it done by next time.”

“But… you’re hard.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve jerked off,” Miguel shrugs off the thought. It wasn’t how he imagined today going, but it wasn’t-- Miguel dropped his gaze down to his waistband. Your fingers tingle over the white ties, pull them loose.

“I want to take care of you,” you shoved his sweats onto the floor, pooling around his slender feet. Miguel’s cock bobbed in the cool air, impossibly hard. You walked him back from his desk to his bed. He falls back on it, his big dick kissing his muscular stomach. “Lay back.”

He found himself eagerly complying. You snatched the lube he keeps on his desk, likely knowing that he kept it there for just this reason. Miguel likes to think that his sexual needs are usually met-- but sometimes, they aren’t. You shoved his legs apart and climbed onto the bed, gliding your hands up the inside of his thighs. A warmth filled his lower belly as you popped open the plastic bottle and drizzled it over his cock. The cool liquid made him flinch.

“It’s not that cold,” you asked, a tease on your lips.

“You find it funny? Let me pour some on you, then,” Miguel remarked, his gaze following your fingers. You gripped him, soothing your palms over the top of his cock and back down, milking him like with your soft hands. You spend particular time smoothing over his root, tracing his veins up to the tip. Your thumb massaged his slit, smoothing a soft bead of fluid that gathered there.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“It’s nice.”

He hummed and lolled his head back onto his pillow. You met him where he was, your lips against his, exchanging a soft and wet kiss. A groan escaped his chest, clearly appreciating your affection. You want him to love it, need it, and crave it at the end of the day. Maybe you could not do all the things the other women could, but there was something about the way you looked and touched him that he knew he could not easily replicate.

“Miggy. How do I make it better?” You asked, more of a whine than anything.

"Better?" Miguel reached up, cupping your breast with one hand. He gives you a squeeze, urging your nipple to harden underneath the fabric. His hazy eyes turn to the other breast, repeating the treatment. You nodded as he worked-- and it's cute how much you want to make him happy.

“Let me fuck your tits. Get on your back, take the dress off,” Miguel looked toward the bottle of lube. He finally has you naked. Every inch you peeled away revealed a little more precious skin that he’s craved to see all week. You slipped off the dress, then your bra, laying back on the sheets. The lube is lukewarm, but when it hit your warm skin, it caused you to flinch too.

“Oh, now it’s cold,” Miguel teased. You smeared the wet lube over your breasts, pushing them together just right. Warmth bit your cheeks as Miguel mounted you, either muscular thigh on the side of your ribs. Between his large body cradling your breasts and his eyes on yours, he realized that you were terribly shy. He rubs the head of his cock against your nipples before sliding between your breasts. “You’re so shy.”

“I’m sorry,” you nodded. It becomes clear that as much as you trust him-- there is some barrier to complete trust. Miguel began to thrust, his hips cantering in the warm, wet lubricant. You could appreciate every day he spent at the gym, making a physique that other men could only aspire to. He was so thick-- so handsome. His breath came out in sharp little puffs as he worked, hands coming on top of yours for both stability and the opportunity to touch you. His fingers slid between the empty gaps of your own, eyes closed, face taut with pleasure.

You knew, as much as he knew, what he was thinking of. His cock wrecking your pussy for the first time because no matter how many times you jerked him off, sucked his cock, or let him fuck your tits, he’d always wonder. He was certain you wanted it too, wanted to feel what it would be like to be under him-- pounded pretty. Your head rose to watch his cockhead peep out between your breasts. Every sweeping motion was rewarded with a little lick, earning a hiss of your name. His measured features hardened.

“Coño,” Miguel cursed as the thick ropes of his cum coated your tits. He forced himself forward, cum pumped over your collarbone and neck, dripping into your hair. The grip on your breast was unrelenting, while the other jerked himself through the bolts of aftershock. To his surprise, you gathered his cum between your fingers and suckled it, tasting his warm salty fluid on your tongue. He watched you, enraptured, as you cleaned yourself-- then went after his softening dick, suckling the spent seed there.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he pulled away. You followed, inching up his chest to kiss him. He tasted himself, finding that he liked how he tasted much more when it was on your tongue. “Stay the night.”

He never asked anyone to stay the night. It was a flagrant violation of another rule that all the others knew he had. Miguel was open to having another roommate. A pretty girl to fuck and keep. She just had to be the right kind of girl. He has a feeling you’re that girl, nestling between his arm and chest, holding him close.

He just had to fuck you first to find out.

The thing about having multiple girls is-- his interest wanes.

He never knows the exact cause. Only that he’s distracted with you. Perhaps it’s your resistance to letting him actually fuck you. Not eat you out, not have his dick sucked, not fuck your tits, but fuck you. He’s thought about how a hundred different ways. Against the museum, in his bed, in the library, his private office-- It encompasses much of his attention. You were at Peter’s art showing Friday night, which was how he ended up here with Dana, yet again.

She wants to see this stupidly romantic movie that no one else is really into from the looks of the empty seats. Miguel isn’t invested either, his mind is racing with thoughts of someone else. Her lips are wrapped around his dick in the dark movie theatre, he goes soft. Soft-- Miguel rarely goes soft, he’s looking for a hole to fuck into. Apparently, this one is no good. He eventually sighs, pushing on her head to remove her from his cock.

“What is it, Miggy?”

A balance of light and shadows highlight her face as she sits there, looking positively aggravated with her failed Friday night date. Miguel knows that he can’t perform like this. He glances down at the near-empty theatre and itches the back of his neck, tucking himself back into his jeans.

“I’m not horny,” he murmured, folding his arms one over the other. He’s surprised she can hear him over the beaming sound of the movie theatre. She does, shoving his shoulder in protest over his shitty performance.

“You’re usually horny,” she bites back.

“Then maybe it’s you.”

The impulse to take it out on Dana is out before he can control it. She flicks her head at him, her slight eyes popping wide open. She searches Miguel’s flat features for an apology, ruffling her fluffy purple bangs away from her eyes. He doesn’t give her one.

“Oh, now you don’t want me? Ever since you’ve started seeing that teashop bitch,” Miguel perked his brow up, “You don’t have time for me. What? Is she that good?”

Tea shop bitch. It’s been over a week of trying to get you to fuck him at multiple intervals. He hasn’t been able to. Not for a lack of trying, but your shy deflection and offers to do things like-- pick an orange off the trees by his building, walk around on a date, or just touch one another. He tried to understand: you weren’t a girl that ran out to date many men. In fact, he’s pretty sure that he is the outlier in your sex life.

“You’re right,” he says. “We should stop fucking.”

“What?”

“You’re too attached,” Miguel stood up, his hands forming tight balls in his pockets. “And I’m just not that interested.”

“When did that change? A month ago? Miguel?”

He doesn’t have time for her stupid possessiveness, her obsession with keeping her slot as his default bitch. Other women told him all about Dana-- how she tended to show up where they were, bumping into them, or the rumors she spread in the department. He jots down the stairs, ignoring her squealing call of his name. The issue with Dana was this: she loved him far too much and he loved her far too little. As with so many of his once-were fuckbuddies, it was better for Miguel to go on his way.

Or, it would have been. He received a concerning message the next day.

I don’t want to see you again.

It’s from your number. Any attempted calls go straight to voicemail. Logically, he should have been able to count it as a loss and move on with any of the other women he had in his life. Illogically, Miguel wants an explanation. If he can’t get one from you, he knows just who will give him one.

Jess already knows what it’s about from the look behind her yellowed sunglasses. Her arms are turned one over the other, clearly having some sort of reservation from this meeting alone. She seems pissed off at him too despite the fact that he has no idea what the fuck he did. He only knows that you’ve virtually disappeared from his life.

“Are you going to tell me?” Miguel asks.

The crispy bagel sits forgotten before him, alongside the coffee that plumes wisps of heat into the air. Jess flicks her eye down to the steam, then back to Miguel.

“I told you to leave that girl alone in the first place.”

“You also set us up. I should know why she left.”

Jess looked off to the wind wisping through the trees, then to everybody that walked on by. There was an undeniable truth to what he said, her involvement was obvious and disconcerting. Whatever had happened, he deserves an explanation. You weren’t going to make this easy to talk to you, but he was intent. So long as he knew the depth of your irritation with him.

“Someone burned Peter. Something about… what was it? Stealing her man?”

He hates that he doesn’t have to ask who.

"Is he hurt?"

"Bad enough," Jess answers. "Y'know how special he is to her."

He's not sure he does.

[momojedi]

— TANTISS topic. hunter x gn! jedi! reader

**

type. loss, pt 2 note. continuation of this since a bunch of people asked me to! this will definitely have multiple parts, I'm already looking forward to sharing it with you! warnings. imprisonment, slight mentions of blood word count. 519

star wars masterlist || pinned post

With each forceful blow against the metallic wall, crimson smudges spread on it as I pull back my bloody fists with a frustrated growl. Yet, it remains useless.

Two months have passed since my confinement within this… cage . Survival wasn't on my agenda when I was apprehended; I anticipated an immediate execution upon boarding the imperial shuttle, or perhaps even before that. I was barely conscious when electric currents surged through my veins from the net, though it would’ve been a far more pleasant death. However, fate had other plans for me, which led me to Mount Tantiss.

Beyond the confines of my cell, the research facility's interior remains a mystery to me, save for the long hallway. Only  scientists or the occasional presence of a commando trooper disrupts the solitude. According to intercepted radio transmissions I’ve picked up on, I'm kept in a highly secure sector, impervious even to a Jedi's escape. And right they are.

Resting my forehead against the cold surface, the weight of the safety collar around my neck feels suffocating. Attempts to remove it are met with searing shocks, rendering me powerless.

Approaching footsteps outside my cell trigger my fight or flight senses, my focus sharpening on the cell door. But as Dr. Karr stands before, me, unlocking the cell door with a scan of her hand, a sense of familiarity offers a semblance of solace, even despite her corrupt work field. Her arrival is accompanied by a young girl, a recurring visitor whose name has remained unknown to me so far. We’ve never spoken before aside from the occasional glances yet whenever I look away, I can feel her big brown eyes linger on me sadly.

Without instruction, I rise to my feet. I’m familiar with the routine by now. As the gap between us narrows, Dr. Karr's speaks up, “Your name?”

I bite my tongue, suppressing my irritation. “[Name],” I snap, pulling myself together, “same thing is was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.” Dr. Karr

types something into her datapad. 

The little girl's gaze lingers, conveying a silent empathy beyond her years. Dr. Karr continues her  tiring tests. “Count.”

I take a deep breath before rattling off the first few numbers in the speed of light when she loudly interrupts me with a cough. “Slowly.” I furrow my brows. 

“5.”

“6.”

“7.”

“8.”

“Fuck.”

“Off.” 

She lets out a deep sigh through her nose, taking down her notes. Then, she lowers the datapad. “Dr. Hemlock will be with you shortly.” And with that, she abruptly leaves as she always does.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on me as I rub my face, emitting a weary sigh. Yet, the sensation of being scrutinized persists. Then, unexpectedly, a soft voice breaks the silence. “Here.” I reluctantly pull back my hands to find the young girl, still present in my cell, offering a handmade tooka doll. I examine the creature made of straw and elastic ties, hesitantly taking it from her. 

"She comforts me when I'm lonely... I thought you might need her too," she explains gently, her sincerity palpable.

[probablyfunrpgideas]

D&D Idea: a family of dragons that are herbivores. They have specialized into a few biomes and food types, but I think the best way to classify these dragons (to avoid overlap with existing ones) is with the animals they mimic in their ecological niche.

For example, the Giraffe Dragon lives in small herds and eats tender leaves and shoots from tall trees. It has a three-part jaw to scoop and bite around sharp thorns, and uses its long neck to conduct a powerful electric breath weapon.

The Mammoth Dragon has no trunk, but sharp tusk-like blades of bone sweep out from its lower jaw, allowing the beast to scythe down vast quantities of grass - and protect itself from predators. If some dire bear or pack of elven rangers wants to take the risk, they still must contend with the mammoth dragon’s lava breath.

Though these first two have vestigial wings used in body language, the Moose Dragon is capable of true flight. It can be awe-inspiring to see the creature gallop through shallow waters, building up speed before it leaps into the sky. Moose dragons eat a lot of aquatic vegetation, and can hold their breaths for a long time. Perhaps their subsonic roar is even more deadly underwater, but no researcher is brave enough to test this.

What herbivore dragon would you put in your world?

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: never thought I’d see the day where I wrote for Spencer Reid again, but this mf has been livin it up rent free fr

False Alarm

It had started as nothing more than a one-off joke between yourself and Derek Morgan. Or rather, a joke made by Derek Morgan in which you were the punchline. You had only been part of the team for around 3 months, but you had gelled with each and every member so well that none could remember what their dynamic had been like prior to you, save for the only member of the team that struggled to forget almost anything. Everyone was comfortable with you, so comfortable in fact that when the team happened to be in the office for a fire alarm test, Derek Morgan took it upon himself to sprint straight for you, near enough tackle you, fling you over his shoulder and bolt out of the building with you in a fireman’s lift, everyone laughing at the silliness of it while you playfully smacked his back. 

It had been intended as just a one-off, you were certain of it, but apparently, it was simply too funny to Derek for him to not incorporate the ridiculous gesture into any and every situation possible. It didn’t matter who was around, if you were within arm’s reach and the team had to go to another room, he would swing you over his shoulder and take you there. It was all in good fun, despite the mock-anger that you gave him whenever he did pick you up, and the team had become so used to the act that they all but rolled their eyes with fond smiles when it occurred on cue. Everyone, you noticed, save for the only member of the team that didn’t seem to understand the humour behind the joke, who was - by no coincidence - your absolute favourite person in the entire world. 

“Does it bother you, when Derek…picks you up?” Doctor Spencer Reid had essentially materialized at your side three days ago as you prepared your morning coffee, so desperate for an answer to his question that he had not been able to prioritize greeting you first.

This was unusual, particularly for him when in conversation with you, given the fondness you share for each other and his dutiful care to always treat you with the utmost politeness. No matter the case, the time of day or how either of you are feeling, the gentleness with which you have always spoken to each other is never forgotten.

“Uh, no, not at all, why?” You returned the question, touched by his concern for your feelings but confused by the cause for such concern.

Ever since your first day, Spencer has had a soft spot for you that was blindingly obvious to absolutely everyone, except for you. To you, that was simply the way he was; you were not to know he treated other women around his age any differently, so you were completely unaware of just how highly he regarded you. There were so many instances where he had shown you, so obviously, how much he cared for you, but neither of you dared address a single one. Not the flight home from your first case, when you had been the quietest you had been all day and he had sat beside you on the jet, watching as silent, slow tears rolled down your cheeks and despite his usual total opposition to physical contact of such a degree, he found himself placing a blanket over the two of you and taking the opportunity to offer his hand beneath the soft fabric, which you took without a word. Not the one time you had called in sick and the moment the team landed home from that case without you, Spencer arrived at your door with a bouquet of flowers, every flavor of soup he could find, and several different types of medicine to relieve you of your symptoms. Not the countless times he had reminded you of things you had forgotten, or every little thing he had prioritized in remembering about you - not that he needed to prioritize anything when it came to his memory - to surprise you with little gifts and trivia about the things he knew you loved. While you never seemed to stop thanking him for the person he was, the two of you found it far too terrifying to ever address what his gestures could mean. 

Spencer shrugged, avoiding your eyes and fixing his gaze on the coffee machine. “No reason.”

At that, you had smiled, turning to face him to profile him as best you could. “Doctor Reid, I don’t think you’ve ever done or said anything for ‘no reason’ in all your life.”

Spencer couldn’t hide the small smile that appeared on his face at your words, the kindness that you never failed to radiate in every conversation with him. “I was just…worried that, perhaps, while everyone had enjoyed the joke, nobody had asked whether you were okay with it, that was all.”

You held his gaze, both bringing your mugs of coffee to your lips in unison and chuckling lightly at the synchronized motion. “Thank you, Spencer, that’s very kind. I don’t mind it at all, honestly, it’s quite nice to be picked up - as long as I trust the person that’s doing it, you’ll hear no complaints from me!”

Spencer seemed to carefully consider this and elected to answer with no more than a nod and a thoughtful smile, before taking his leave and returning to his desk. Leaving you in the bewildered, dazed wake of the wonder, the enigma that is Doctor Spencer Reid.

In the days that have passed since, you have been playing that conversation over and over in your head, trying to piece together what was going on in the mind of your favorite genius. Though you felt you had spent the majority of your time doing that since joining the team, having been so fascinated by the curious person he was and the seemingly impossible things he knew, the past three days have particularly plagued you. It hasn’t helped that on several occasions, you have caught him glancing over at you with the same smile on his face he had given you by the coffee machine. Every time you’ve caught him, he’s been quick to look away from you, but that same smile has lingered and grown while he’s busied himself with something else, mind clearly still occupied by whatever he thinks when he looks over at you. It has been maddening, in all honesty.

Strolling into the office, you are greeted by the sight of the very genius that has been living rent free in your brain since the day you met, standing at your desk. The bright smile that takes over your face is instinctual and the one he returns to you is the same, the invisible tether that binds you to each other tugging at the distance between you until you reach your desk to start digging through your bag. 

“Good morning Spencer, everything alright?” You ask, too sincerely pleased by the sight of him to be at all concerned by him seemingly waiting for you at your desk before you’ve even arrived for the day.

 “Good morning (Y/N)! Everything is perfectly alright, thank you, why do you ask?” He fires the question back at you, excitement too obvious in his tone to not raise your suspicions.

This is exacerbated by the expressions on the faces of the rest of the team as they file into the office, their conversations abruptly silencing as they stop in the doorway, all of them watching your interaction with eager eyes.

Looking between them and Spencer, you frown in confusion. “What’s going on?”

If you were to compare the genius to any fictional character in this moment, you would be unable to choose any other than the Cheshire Cat, with the grin he’s sporting. “Going on? Nothing is ‘going on’, as far as I’m aware. I do have a question for you, though, now that you mention it.”

Dropping your bag on your desk, you turn to face him, giving him your full attention. “Okay, go ahead.”

You have never seen Spencer Reid quite so giddy in your life. “Do you trust me?”

Blinking rapidly up at him, your frown returns. “Of course, with my life, why wouldn’t I?”

Spencer smiles down at you, glancing over your shoulder at the team. “I had really hoped that would be your answer.” He gives them a thumbs up. “Morgan?”

Following his gaze, you watch Derek chuckle. “All yours, kid.” With that, he strolls over to the fire alarm and hits it, hard. 

As the alarm blares, you hurry to hold your ears with your hands, but it seems someone else has plans for you being in their own hands. Before you have time to process what exactly is going on, Doctor Spencer Reid has swung you up in his arms, not in a fireman’s lift, but bridal style. Completely disorientated, you struggle to catch up with what is unfolding around you, all the while Spencer starts carrying you out of the building, the rest of the team laughing and holding the doors open for you as you pass through them. 

Finally finding the confidence to look up at Spencer’s face, you are not at all prepared for the look in his eyes, already waiting for yours to meet his. 

“You..orchestrated a fire drill?” You manage to say as the two of you exit the building into the parking lot, free of the deafening alarm at last.

Without placing you down on the ground, Spencer Reid stares into your eyes with the softest smile you have ever seen. “For the chance to hold you, it was the easiest thing in the world to arrange.”

Seeing stars with a bewildered grin plastered on your face, you call out. “Derek?”

From somewhere behind Spencer, your friend and colleague replies. “What’s up, lovebirds?”

Without breaking eye contact, you call over Spencer’s shoulder. 

“With regret, in the event of an actual fire or any reason for a lift to be required, you are fired from the position of first in line and will, please, find Doctor Spencer Reid as quickly as possible to do the job.”