#or my skill isn't advanced enough

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Mother of wishes

Hey you guys the results from the manga contest I participated in are finally out. I didn't even make it through the first round *laugh* but hey that means I can share my manga with you guys <3 Its a story for my goodness mother of wishes

so here: behold my failed creation.

[end-orfino]

ahhhhhh i remember why i dont read comics & books and watch movies as much as I should. Because they make me lose it

[barleyo]

Love Machine.

Android! Leon Kennedy X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: I got this idea while listening to a song with the same title. This was my first time writing for Leon, I hope it isn't too clunky or too short! I am slowly coming out of my hiatus, so my writing skills are a bit rusty, I need you all to give me a little grace for the next few posts in case they aren't great LOL. Love you all so much, thanks for your support!

Part Two: Here

Wordcount: 2.4K

Tags: sex doll/living sex robot (?), sex toys, oral (fem receiving), reader is called things like "pretty girl", p in v, creampie (but not really because he's a sex doll??), unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play

“Welcome in, can I help you find anything?”

(Y/N) gave the cashier a polite smile and shook her head as she walked past him at the check-out desk, trying to be as non-awkward as possible, especially since she was the only customer in the small store at that time of night. It was an in and out trip, she tried to convince herself of that. She needed something small, just enough to get the job done. 

Normally, she would’ve waited until the next day to run an errand like this, but days of stress had left her needy and frustrated, so when her trusty wand finally gave out on her mid-fun, she grabbed her car keys and headed out into the night. 

Her eyes scanned the wall of toys in the back of the store. Pink and purple covered the shelves, vibrating toys and dildos being her main focus. 

“Mini-vibe, bullet vibe,” she mumbled, squatting down to read the boxes on the lower shelves. “What’s even the difference–?”

She settled on a purple rabbit vibrator. Its packaging was the least indicative of its contents, and it was on the smaller side. Easy to hide. 

“Will that be all?” the cashier asked, looking over the box. 

“Yeah, that should be it.”

“You know,” he said, giving her a wide grin, “I can’t say I can suggest this one.” He held the box back out to her, waiting for her to take it. “We’ve gotten a lot of refunded purchases due to it.”

“Oh, shit, really?” (Y/N) took the box back, tucking it under her arm. “Okay, uh, I guess I should ask what the best option would be, then?”

The cashier gave a nod and waved her over, lifting the divider between behind the counter and the rest of the store. “Come with me to the back, we’ve got all the good stuff tucked away back there.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about whether or not to follow him. She didn’t immediately catch any red flags in his behavior: he was polite enough, no major creep-vibes. (Y/N) finally walked past the open divider and followed him into the stock room. 

“So, over here,” he said, waving his hand over a heavily stocked shelf, “is all the high-powered stuff. These over here have a high-customization level, lingerie over here, and over here ....” 

The man continued to go over the ‘hidden’ options in the store, but (Y/N)’s eyes traveled over to a large, sheet-covered box. 

“Hey, what’s that over there?” she asked, pointing at the box. 

“Oh, that? That’s new, uhm, probably a little out of your comfort zone, though, he’s a little advanced.”

“He?”

The cashier sighed and stepped up to the box, gripping the corner of the sheet. “It’s—it’s a long story, but, here, have a look.”

He pulled the sheet down, dropping it to the cement floors of the room.

“What the fuck is that?!”

A blond man stood in the plain box, the only adornment on the cardboard being his name in bolded letters: Leon. His eyes were closed, his hands sat idly beside his sides, and his body stood bare before them both.

“His name is Leon, he’s a prototype for a new line of responsive sex dolls. I mean, most of the bugs are out of the system, he’s not faulty or anything.”

(Y/N) walked up to the box and scratched the cellophane covering, trying to get his attention. “Is he awake? Or on, I guess?”

“Nah, he has to be set up, there’s a manual in the box, I think,” the man replied, bending down to pick the sheet back up to throw over Leon’s box. Just as he began to shake the sheet off, clearing the residual dirt off of it, (Y/N) spoke again.

“How much for him?”

She mentally smacked herself for asking. There was no doubt he was expensive, hell, he probably wasn’t even up for sale.

“You want him?” He raised his eyebrow, looking the girl up and down, confusion painting his features.

“I– I don’t know, can I have him? How much?”

He crossed his arms for a moment, thinking. “He’s not for sale, per se, but– so, listen, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“You can have him for free, okay? But if you aren’t satisfied with him, you can’t bring him back here, you’re stuck with ‘em.” He held his hand out expectantly. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she said, taking his hand quickly, giving it a few affirming shakes.

The boxcutter in her hand worked quickly, slicing open the cellophane. (Y/N) bunched up the plastic and threw it to a random corner in her bedroom, turning back to face Leon. She gave him a testing poke, and when he didn’t respond she turned that poke into a gentle tapping on the side of his face.

“Leon?” The name felt like acid on her tongue, guilt already creeping through her. “Wake up.”

She dropped her hand from his face and guided it further down his chest. The synthetic skin felt real, almost in an uncanny way. He was warm to the touch, not plastic-y and cold like how she assumed other sex dolls felt. 

“Come on, big boy.” she muttered, pulling Leon’s large, heavy body out of the box and placing him on his feet near her bed. “Where’s your–? Oh, got it.” (Y/N) snatched the instruction manual from the box. The print was foggy, and some words were horribly misspelled, but she flipped through the pages and located the directions page. She read the page to herself quietly. “I am Leon, your AI-powered male sex doll. The setup process of a Leon doll is extremely easy. To turn me on, just set my dial. After that, just sit back and let me love you for a little while!” 

(Y/N) walked a small circle around him in search of his ‘on-switch.’ She found it right on the back of his neck, almost hidden by his swoop of blond hair. On the silver dial sat three options: Off, gentle, and rough. A hand rose and ticked the dial to gentle. She stepped away from him quickly after hitting the switch, nervous to see what would happen.

His eyes opened slowly, and a weak blue light beamed from them, scanning outwards before shutting off completely. A grin slowly spread across Leon’s all-too-real features as he powered on. 

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he said, standing still in her room, only moving his head to face her. “Looks like you could use some company.”

“Uh, hello.” Her mouth was dry as she spoke, feeling like she made a bad decision the second he had snapped to life. 

“Hm, why don’t you come closer to me? I don’t bite,” Leon paused before cheekily adding “unless you want me to.” He took her in his arms and let his eyes drift down her body. He eased her shirt over her head and tried to undo the clasps of her bra.

“What are you doing?” She tried to pull away but he held her in place.

“You have all your clothes, but I’m exposed over here. That’s not so fair, is it?” He looked down at his hardened length, ushering her to look down with him.

Her eyes widened a bit. “When did you even get hard–?”

“I’m always hard around pretty girls like you.” He slipped off her bra and groped her breasts with his large, somewhat calloused hands. “Look at these, baby. You have pretty tits, and a pretty face, huh?” 

A hum left her throat as she felt his head dip down and take one of her swollen nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the bud, latching on to properly suck it after a few teasing moments. She ran her hands through his hair and gripped onto it tightly, whining at the feeling of his mouth popping off of her tit. 

“Bet you’re getting wet from this, aren’t you?” His voice was airy and muffled while he spoke. He left open mouthed licks over her pebbled nipples, grazing over them with his tongue’s warmth.

She gave a weak nod in return.

“Mm, maybe I should take care of that,” he chuckled lightly and lowered himself to his knees. “Gonna let me take these off you?” He tugged at the waistband of her shorts.

“G’head,” (Y/N) said, feeling her thighs rub against each other impatiently. 

He pulled them down to her ankles and she stepped out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She shuddered at the feeling of his tongue darting across the cotton covering her wet center. Again, Leon laughed a bit at her reaction and licked a heavier stripe against the fabric. When he was rewarded with a gasp from her open mouth, he pulled the panties to the side and pressed his tongue at her slit.

“F–Fuck, that feels good,” she whined, hand still messily buried in his hair. 

Leon kept his eyes on her the whole time, not letting a moment pass where his blue irises weren’t piercing hers. 

His tongue dipped out of her entrance and moved up to her clit. He fidgeted with it, trying to see which motion worked best on her, and settled on a circular movement. The longer he sat slotted between her thighs, her knees thrown over his shoulders, the more frequently he felt her cunt jump from pleasure. He placed his tongue hard on her clit, giving it rough, pressured licks. 

“Almost there, I’m close,” (Y/N) said, feeling a coil form in her stomach. She had felt this with other toys, but by far, Leon was the best at the job. “Don’t stop,” she hummed, voice catching in her throat while he moved his head side to side, dragging his mouth sloppily over her cunt.

A string of profanities escaped her mouth when she felt her orgasm hit. A sputtering wave of warmth flushed through her body, her pussy clenching around nothing. 

“That’s it, good job,” Leon cooed. He held his hand up to her face expectantly. “Spit.”

Her mind already felt melted, like it could’ve oozed out of her brain at any minute. She mindlessly complied with him, spitting onto his lengthy fingers.

“Ah–! S’too much, Leon.”

“No, no, you can take it. I’ll be gentle, I know you want another one,” he said with a slightly mocking tone. “Greedy girl needs something to fill her up.” Plunging his fingers into her pussy, he groaned at the feeling of her slick walls still fluttering. “Y’haven’t even recovered from the first one, but I’m gonna give you another one,” he said, curling his fingers, “gonna be twice as strong.”

“Fuck, it’s too much,” (Y/N) knew her sobs of pleasure were pathetic sounding, but she couldn’t muster anything else up as she tried to push his wrist down and away, not being able to stand the feeling of his two fingers prodding at her most sensitive spot. 

“Don’t fight it,” he warned, “not when you’re so close. Yeah, I feel you getting all tight on me. Mm, you’re gonna love how it feels, it only gets better from here, pretty girl.” 

Leon became more aggressive with his movement, moving his whole arm as his fingers jammed in and out of her. (Y/N) was lost in her ecstasy. Her hands shook and flew aimlessly before taking purchase of Leon’s shoulders and holding onto them, nails digging into the skin.

Her second release, as promised, was much stronger. Her legs clamped around him, her moans came out in long, shaky intervals, and her brain was mush. She couldn’t force herself to focus on anything but the cum dripping out of her cunt and down Leon’s fingers and forearm. She screwed her eyes shut, feeling even the dim light of her bedroom to be too much for her now fucked-out, slutty head to handle. 

She hardly noticed when he had placed on her back in the bed with her legs spread. Not until he guided his cock across her folds, tapping the head of it against her swollen, abused clit. 

“More?” she asked, voice breaking and weak. “Can’t take it ‘nymore.”

“C’mon, sweet thing, you can give me one more, can’t you? Just one more?” He whispered into her ear, slowly pushing into her, holding himself back. 

“Jus’ one? No more after that?”

“Mhm, just one.” Leon bottomed out and stretched her walls with his girth. The tip of his cock gave sweet, shallow kisses to her cervix’s tip, gently pressing into it with each thrust. His hips rocked into her, but he felt his dick being forced out of her walls, pushed out of her heat. “Even after all that, still tight f’me.” He slid back in, rougher this time, trying to keep himself inside. “Need somethin’ to stretch you out, baby. Good thing y’got me now.”

His hands were placed under her knees, scooping and holding them apart while he fucked her. He slowly transitioned from fucking and burrying his cock into her, to bringing her body forward, bouncing her on his cock. 

“Leon—”

“Hush, now, you’re okay. Mm,” he wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, “look at how you take it. It’s like you were made to be used like this, sweet girl. Maybe you’d be better off as a toy.” 

She moaned at this, feeling her cunt twitch at his words.

“Yeah? You like that?” Leon’s eyebrow raised at her a bit, teeth barring in smirk. “You like being a little toy. Being– oh, fuck, you’re enjoying this so much. Your pretty little face...”

(Y/N) threw her arms over his neck, pulling him closer to her body. Their chests pressed together, her sweat slick between them both. “God, Leon, please!”

Leon pressed his mouth on her to quiet her down, swallowing her moans as their tongues and teeth gnashed against each other. He winced as (Y/N) bit down on his lip, choking back her sobs when she clamped down on his cock. Taking this as a sign, Leon emptied his thick, synthetic cum into her. 

Once he pulled out, a mixture of both of their cum pumped out, gushing and wetting in between her thighs.

“Good job, baby,” he said, stroking her face, grinning at the warmth of her cheek. “You did so well, getting all cockdrunk for me. To think I was being gentle. Wanna try my rough mode out for size?” He joked, letting his hand grip her hip. 

“Goodnight, Leon,” she responded, unimpressed at his teasing and tired from what he had done to her. She brought her hand to the back of his neck and turned his dial to ‘off.'

[choerypetal]

Little Bird / Coriolanus Snow

summary: Being the Capitol's favorites subject has consequences. Consequences that subject to be paired with the most influential man in Panem entirely.

notes **reader is an idol/singer in Capitol's first attempt into making a group for each annual Hunger Games. but with snow's obsession into making you entirely his and with his job as mentoring lucy gray, he tries his very best, but fails miserably.

ps ; english isn't my first language so i apologize in advance for some minor errors and please do not copy my work without credit thank you!

Your connection with Snow encompassed diverse facets. At times, he exuded an irresistible charm, drawing you in effortlessly. Yet, in the next moment, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with audacious intent, as if daring anyone to approach and touch even the slightest expanse of your skin – a challenge few would ever contemplate. 

Being the Capitol's favorite came with its own set of challenges. Compliments on your skills or charisma were either sincere or fueled by envy, making it doubly difficult for those striving to surpass their yearly earnings. This aspect of Panem's functioning was something Coriolanus exploited way too much. The artificiality of the stage, adorned with makeup to project an illusion of wealth, highlighted what he found enduring. The ease with which one could become the favorite by merely speaking or moving to the latest musical rhythm was something Coriolanus himself could not keep his eyes away from. And that person was you. 

He despised witnessing other men vying for your attention, their eyes lighting up as soon as you entered the Capitol's theater. There was no denying that you were the favorite member among your group. However, during your debut, the spotlight only found you officially when it was announced that the Capitol's new favorite group would be welcoming a new member. Given your position at the Academy, your choices were limited – either mentoring a tribute and risk bringing shame to your family if they lost. Or become part of Panem's newest favored diversion. It wasn’t until the very next day, that many became obsessed with you. And as much as Coriolanus tried to oblige on that single though, he was afraid to admit that he too became a little too obsessed over you. 

To compound Coriolanus's discomfort, he had to endure the ceaseless styling rituals accompanying each new album or song released to the public. This entailed donning short skirts and crops, transforming your body into a specific attire as a statue to be admired for hours on end. For the hapless Coriolanus, sitting there was challenging enough, watching you perform with a self-assured smirk, reveling in every bit of skin. How the skirt would flare up and brush against your skin, how he wanted to feel such fantasy. From each moments of your act, while beads of sweat glistened across every inch of your body. He couldn't help but fantasize scenarios from scenarios that you would be his, envisioning the two most influential figures of the Capitol as the perfect pair. And that was only during the ceremony of the 10th Hunger Games. 

Post the 10th Hunger Games, a significant shift occurred. Lucy Gray's presence lingered in Coriolanus's thoughts, causing him to perceive you in a completely new light. You were constantly in his mind. Although you though, with hearing the constant rumors of a possible relationship between him and his tribute. While you continued to excel in your performances, earning the success both you and your group rightfully deserved, you were aware of Coriolanus's altered fate.

Once he had been sent back to District 12 after his victor, Lucy Gray, who was also a performer. He remembered occasionally, after the victory ceremony, how you had the opportunity to chat with Lucy Gray. Discovering that your old classmate may have developed feelings for her. As Coriolanus Snow’s proud smirk upon seeing the people he seemingly cared for interacting with each other. Only to be so blind by the fact that you had expressed prior feelings for him, but instead confidently expressed his plan to join forces and visit her in her District wasn’t what you had intended to hear. 

While you refrained from expressing any objections, your suspicions regarding the burgeoning emotions between the two of them proved well-founded. Little did you know, Coriolanus engaged in those actions merely to divert his thoughts from you, acknowledging he wouldn't have a chance with you. Lucy Gray became his chosen distraction. Simultaneously, he caught wind of a potential rumor suggesting you were seen intimately with another man. The revelation that this man wasn't him intensified his already pronounced obsession with you. However, this time, Lucy Gray played a role in assisting him.

The revelation of his truth dawned on him only upon his return to Panem. The snake bite's impact intensified, with only your silhouette haunting his thoughts. In this return, he presented a wholly transformed appearance – his hair slightly longer, adorned in his father's old crimson jacket, albeit somewhat intoxicated, attempting to erase all memory of you. What Snow remained oblivious to was your patient anticipation during his absence in District 12. It was Tigris who knocked on your door that very evening, sparing you from the surprise of his return. 

However, Snow chose to make his entrance at the stroke of midnight, reminiscent of the times when both of you would clandestinely navigate the Academy. In those intimate moments, he patiently bided his time for the Capitol streets to empty, stealthily entering through your bedroom window. Hours were spent in each other's arms, reveling in discussions about new projects, with his assurances that everything would be alright.

This time, however, an inebriated Snow had a different agenda beyond comforting cuddles for sleepless nights. His primary goal was to solidify your relationship officially. "If you don’t tell her, I will." Echoed Tigris’s voice in his mind upon seeing her cousin return from duty as a Peacekeeper. She was among the few who truly knew about the budding romantic connection between Coriolanus and you. She pleaded with her cousin to go ahead, noting. "She hasn't touched a man since the last time you spoke, you know." That last statement served as a testament to your unwavering fidelity towards him. It was only a matter of time before he knocked on your door that very night.

On the contrary, you took it upon yourself to tidy up the entire apartment. Anticipating Coriolanus's return, you were determined not to leave a single mess, mindful of both his and your own peace of mind. Despite the fact that chaos often defined your shared living space, when in each other's arms, you both found solace in tidiness and tranquility. However, as dinner passed and bedtime approached, you couldn't help but notice Coriolanus's absence. Was he running late, or was he entangled in some trouble that you would only learn about the next morning? Various questions raced through your mind as you attempted to drift off helplessly on the living room couch, with the TV's echo serving as a backdrop.

Coriolanus stood there silently, observing from a distance outside your apartment window. Anyone observing from afar would catch a glimpse of you nibbling at your cuticles – a habit he had learned you indulged in when he wasn't around, a realization that would later make him feel remorseful upon witnessing the marks it left on your fingers. In response, he would tenderly peck each bruise, a silent acknowledgment of your thoughts mirroring his own. However, this time, he chose to forgo surprising you with the cliché bouquet of flowers or any conventional gesture. After indulging in the contents of a second wine bottle before making his way to you, he had no plans of raiding the florist shop either. Knocking on your door with determination, he felt an unusual hesitation, a departure from his past boldness of entering and showering you with kisses. Contemplating the prospect of declaring you entirely as his, especially in his inebriated state, he wasn't entirely certain if you would fully trust his words. 

Luckily, you had left the door ajar for him, a gesture he expected. Upon entering, he was met with the familiar background echo of the TV, confirming his assumption that you were already asleep. Nostalgia washed over him as he recalled the mornings spent lounging in bed with you or embarking on early runs for coffee. Despite his aspirations to bring about change in Panem and restore his family's reputation by aspiring to become President, he understood that true fulfillment wouldn't come until he had you by his side entirely. Limping slightly due to the effects of his drunkenness, he made his way into the living room and began to softly whisper your name, until his gaze met your sleeping figure. "Y/N... My sweet bird."

His breath carried warmth that gently brushed against your cold skin. Despite the lingering scent of alcohol, indicating Snow had been drinking before his arrival, your eyes responded to the touch of his finger delicately tracing your cheek. "Coryo…" you murmured his name with a loving tone, reveling in the vulnerability of calling out to him. "Shh… I am here," he reassured you, prompting a soft smile to grace your lips at the sound of his comforting voice. A voice you had missed dearly, compelling you to slowly rise from the much-needed slumber after a demanding day. However, lately, without Snow's presence in your arms, the nights became sleepless and challenging to endure alone. Despite acknowledging this truth, there was a conflicting sensation, a twinge of discomfort knowing that Coriolanus relished the fact that without him, you felt incomplete. It was this dynamic that rendered the two of you an unforgettable pair, seemingly inseparable. 

“How I missed you so much.” He continued to say, with seeing your face arousing from your slumber, how he had missed kissing your soft lips each night before going to sleep. If it wasn’t for being a Peacekeeper back in District 12, he’d say he was damn for letting himself kiss Lucy Gray while thinking of you the entire time. “I missed you more, Coryo. Everytime, during performances and even in my relentless dreams.” 

A subtle smile played on his features as his fingers traced down your body, an unspoken desire evident in his every touch. His lips yearned to kiss every inch, a longing to finally claim you as his own. He envisioned proudly holding your hand in public, marking you as his and sending a clear message to other men about your ownership. "You want to know something?" The amusement in his voice prompted a soft giggle from you, appreciating his seemingly all-knowing manner of sharing information, despite the evident effects of his earlier drinking. "What, drunk boy?" You playfully teased, noting the light pink hue that adorned his cheeks—a clear sign of his inebriation. 

He vehemently denied it with a pout, his lips subtly mimicking a desire for a kiss. Coryo was just touch starved. "You know, I haven't been properly fed with love lately. Coryo has been away from his bird for far too long..." His voice deepened, the intensity of his gaze barely allowing for a blink, making it abundantly clear who he desired: you. An intensifying blush crept on your features this time. Of course you knew your history with him, a caring gentleman who made sure to take care of the one he loved most. But this Coriolanus, objected something in you that you enjoyed seeing probably a little more. To be completely under his control. To bow to his command. 

"And as much as I hate to admit..." Your voice took on a gentle tone, a stark contrast to the confidence you exuded in the public eye. Sensing his fingers trailing down your body, from your hips to your lips, he couldn't help but notice their softness, prepared to be pampered at his command. However, he had to restrain his temptations for a moment, feeling his teeth sink into the bottom of his lip. You continued. "I might have been a naughty bird, moaning your name during sleepless nights, hoping you'd come save me from my little cage. You have no idea how eagerly I waited for you to come back." 

Honestly, Coriolanus found himself just as taken aback by your confession, despite the obvious history between the two of you. The mere thought of you in bed, adorned in barely anything, accentuating your beautiful form, fingers exploring sensually. The vivid image of you pleasuring yourself, uttering his name amidst a chorus of enticing sounds, drove him to instant madness. Tonight, he was determined to lavish you with everything he could muster—to claim you as his own, leaving marks on your body that not even the most skilled makeup artist could conceal come morning. Without explicitly professing love in the conventional sense, it was evident that Coriolanus and you were destined to be together. In times of need or distraction, both of you instinctively knew where to find solace in each other's presence. 

"I want you, Coryo..." you pleaded, your fingers clutching his shirt, the skirt from today's performance riding up slightly. Upon arriving from work, you had removed your underwear just for him—his eyes alone to witness, taste, and appreciate. His hands gripped firmly on your arse, and it was his turn to shift positions, settling onto the couch with you atop him. Your blouse, with a revealing cleavage, owed its allure to Tigris, your stylist. You couldn't help but wonder if the same effect would have been achieved without her touch. Extricating yourself from his grasp, you observed his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. It was a smirk that served as a reminder, and in that instant, you knew that tonight, you were unequivocally his—his and his alone, his cherished little bird.

"I can't wait to finally show my little bird what I can do."

Coriolanus spoke those words with genuine anticipation. It was undeniably the most memorable night, and he intended to recreate it repeatedly. After all, you were his little bird—his to cherish, tourmate, and play with as he pleased.

[zuhuan]

Jujutsu Kaisen men x S/O on their period

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Megumi Fushiguro, Choso Kamo

Summary: Your beloved helps with your period.

Genre: fluff, comfort (!mentions of blood!nausea!)

COMMISIONS -> open

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Gojo Satoru:

• It's only natural that your period came at the worst possible time. You are at school until late this afternoon and you even have club activities after classes. You wrote to Gojo that you had your period. He responded like "Oh, thank God."

• You yelled at him for not showing empathy, but then he took matters into his own hands. He knew how much you were suffering at this time, so he asked you out of Jujutsu High School and you went home. On the way home, he went to the nearby convenience store to buy some snack, pads and all the necessary things. Your boyfriend doesn't care that other people think it's weird that he has to buy feminine hygiene products.

• He use his warm hands instead of the heating pad. He would gently pull you close, wrap his arms around you and caress you.

• Gojo takes advantage of the fact that you want to cuddle and just lie down all day, but if you ask for anything, he will help you immediately.

• "Fuuckk... I'm in so much pain... everything hurts." He would ask if you would like to take the medicine. With a glass of water and the medicine in hand, he would kneel beside you by the bed and help you swallow the medicine.

• After you take it, he will lie down next to you and let you fall asleep in a position that is comfortable for you while caressing your face and back. "Rest my love." And he kisses you.

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Nanami Kento:

• Knows in advance when your period will come, keeps a calendar about it and monitors whether everything is in order.

• He is the type of- "Angel, your period is coming soon, do you have everything you need?" (omg I need a man like him)

• If you don't feel like eating, or you can't because you're feeling nauseous, he won't force you to eat, but he'll still cook you heavenly delicious food in case you feel hungry later.

• If you accidentally get your period in your sleep and he wake up first in the morning and find blood on your bedclothes and panties, he tries to wake you up and lead you out of the room so that you don't notice. He knows how uncomfortable you feel at this time.

• Nanami isn't a huge fan of physical touch, but he puts it aside and hugs and kisses you. He would be more attentive to you and call you cute names much more during this time (which of course pleases both him and you). On such names as "My precious, My little bunny, My only love."

• He would definitely ask if everything is okay down there and if there was anything unusual.

• You will be in very good hands with him and you will be completely pampered.

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Megumi Fushiguro:

• Megumi is already very skilled at this. He learned all this on his own just for you. He also keeps track of when your period will come and when it should end in a calendar. He handles your mood swings well and always tries to cheer you up depending on the situation.

• When he sees that you are suffering a lot, he slowly sits down next to you, asking if he can do something for you. You shake your head and turn away from him. "Honey I want to help you." Megumi's face starts to fill with worry and he hugs you from behind. He would gently kiss your temples and neck while you feel his warm breath and the feeling runs down your spine.

• It is not awkward for him to talk to you about whether everything is fine with your period.

• He would cook you your favorite kind of instant noodles (because he knows you love it) and you would eat it snuggled up on the sofa. He always makes sure you stay hydrated and eat enough. He will only let you take the medicine if you have eaten before! If you manage to fall asleep, he will carry you to your shared bedroom on tiptoe and cover you with many blankets so you don't get cold.

• Before getting into bed next to you, Megumi prepares the heating pad and carefully places it next to your stomach and his hands on it so as not to wake you up.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Choso Kamo:

• He knows blood well, so he can perfectly sense when your period is coming. But he is not a great expert in the biological process itself. He is trying his best to help you through this period.

• He would make you hot tea and a few bites of food. You told him earlier that you are very nauseous, so he is afraid that if you eat too much you might throw up. Well, you didn't even have to eat a bite and you already ran to the toilet because you had to throw up. Choso wouldn't be scared of the situation, he would be there by your side stroking your back and holding your hair back. He would calm you down with kind words. "You're good my love, don't worry I'm here for you. I love you." After you were done, he helped you clean up.

• You would feel like a baby (here you can see what a good father he would be).

• He would ease your pain by caressing your whole body while holding you in his warm and comfortable arms until you fall asleep.

• If it were so difficult for you to move that you couldn't even clean yourself, he wouldn't let you, especially during this period. Your boyfriend would help you undress and get into the tub and give you a nice massage while he bathes you (nothing dirty).

• He would let you hang on him like a little koala. He would caress your face and then kiss you and try to distract you from your pain. He is the perfect companion in such a situation. Let's protect this man at all costs!

You liked it? Check this out! Click

[dduane]

Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3

Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.

I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.

Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.

About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)

What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.

During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.

The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)

I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)

But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.

I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.

This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.

Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.

I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.

I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.

Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.

Here are links to some.

Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.

Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.

And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)

Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)

[ddejavvu]

hi i love your writing!! can i request hotch x reader where he did a press conference or something on the news (i just watched the halloween one in s10 he looked fiiiine) and then reader runs into him in public and recognises him ty in advance

Perhaps you should have taken his casual attire as a sign that he wasn't on duty, but you can't stop yourself from blanching at the sight of the man stepping up to the counter before you. Hotchner was his name? Agent Hotchner?

"You're the man from the news," You blurt, before he's even able to get his coffee order out. He looks somewhat taken aback, dark eyes widened slightly, and you're sure it's not often that he's ambushed by his baristas, and you clear your throat, "I- sorry, I just- I saw you last night on tv."

"Our press conference," He's skilled at overlooking your awkward interjection, nodding with the hint of a smile on his face, "I'm glad you were tuned in to the news and stayed safe."

"Did you catch him?" You ask, coffee long forgotten. You'd been a nervous wreck at the announcement of a serial killer in your town, a real serial killer killing real people like you, and you almost hadn't shown up for work today out of anxiety.

"We did," He nods, "He's safely locked away. And he will be for a long time, I promise."

"Thank you," You breathe, palpable relief in your tone, "Thank you, I- I can't even imagine how scary it must be to chase after people like that, but thank you for doing it."

His brows raise and his eyes flood with gratitude, something you hope is visible in your own gaze. Evidently, he doesn't get this very often.

"It's my job," He smiles fully now, settling into his place at the counter as customers come and go on either side of him, "There's no need to thank me."

"It's a job you chose," You counter, "I was really- it was scary, thinking that he was out there. That I might be next, that my friend might, that my mom might. I do need to thank you for that."

"You're safe now," He promises, and something about the honey-sweet tone of voice he uses makes you truly believe it.

"I'm sorry for holding you up," You apologize after a beat of comfortable silence, refocused on the screen in front of you, "What can I get for you, sir?"

"A medium coffee. Black, please." He recites, "And a cheese, egg, and ham sandwich, if you've still got any."

"That'll be all?" You verify, punching his order into the computer. He nods with a smile, already pulling out his wallet.

"Oh, no sir," You clear his total, pulling from your tip jar to cover the cost of his order, "I'd feel guilty for charging you. You helped a lot of people, your order is free."

"I insist-" He tries, moving his card towards the scanner, but you tug the appliance away.

"I insist," You stand your ground, "Please, I'm going to be able to get home safely tonight thanks to you, I have no problem giving you a free coffee."

"A sandwich, too." He reminds you, "You're very kind, but I can't take free food. Please, let me pay for one of the items?"

"My treat." You slide bills into the register, triumphant when his shoulders sag and a sheepish smile overtakes his face as he slides his card back into his wallet.

"Thank you," He returns your gratitude, eyes the color of his coffee somehow sweeter than sugar "I appreciate it. I meant it before, you're very kind."

You're happy that the breakfast sandwiches are stored behind you, because it gives you a chance to hide the way your face contorts into a bashful grin as you prepare his order. Now that the fear of being attacked is out of your head, you're able to marvel at the man's looks, something you'd tried tamping down to focus on bigger issues at hand. A smile suits him, and so does a t-shirt and jeans, and you're glad you got to see a side of him that isn't grim and grey.

"Thank you," He beams when you return with his order, simple enough that you'd made it while he stood at your register, "Have a great rest of your day."

"You too, sir." You nod, trying not to react when his fingertips brush your hand, and you applaud yourself for keeping your composure until he's safely out of the building.

That same composure breaks when you're emptying your tip jar for the day, counting out each bill to stuff them in your wallet and grocery shop for the week. A wad of them falls out that you're fairly certain you didn't see anyone drop off, and it's revealed to be three $20 bills with a stiff piece of cardstock in the middle.

You're momentarily horrified that someone dropped the wrong amount in, put in the contents of their wallet when they meant to leave a $5, but the name on the card hits you like a semi-truck.

SSA Aaron Hotchner.

Damn that man, he must have slipped the cash into your jar while your back was turned. You'd been trying to save him $7 for the coffee and the sandwich, and he treated you to a cart of groceries instead.

You flip the card to find his number, not sure if you're brave enough to call and give him a speech that's half thankful and half scolding. But there's pen scrawled on the back, and you squint to read the print.

'Don't try returning the tip, I won't take it back. Thank you for being so kind, and if you ever need a favor, you know who to call. - Agent Hotchner'

[what-if-nct]

NCT eating out skills.

*I apologize in advance*

Johnny: Pulls the most toe curling tongue tricks. And you can feel him smile against you every time he makes you whimper and whine.

Taeyong: Loves doing it but gets overly excited and needs a bit of direction cause he gives unnecessary attention to the lips.

Yuta: I'm not saying pussy eating champion, but he has his medals and trophies. That is his title. He is undefeated and will tongue fuck you while his fingers attend to other business.

Kun: He does exactly what needs to be done and does it well, but is a master with his fingers cause he wants to always look at you.

Doyoung: He's very unsure about his skills and technique but he shouldn't be. His technique alone is fireworks, shooting stars worthy

Ten: Not the best but not the worst, gets the job done.

Jaehyun: He licks too hard in the wrong area, needs guidance. Can be staring at it and still doesn't know where the clit is. His fingers might be the best bet.

Winwin: Will have your eyes fluttering and you'll forget your name, starts with kissing it but his tongue and fingers start working double time and will suck your clit and your fingers will lock into his hair. If Yuta has Gold in this category. Winwin easily has silver.

Jungwoo: Loves doing it so much, gets so happy but is really just licking the outer lips, his tongue might slip in but not on purpose but when he finds out he can he really goes in for it. Still overtly enthusiastic though.

Mark: He tried, he just tries his best he'll get there one day. He can find the clit but bless his heart he doesn't really know what to do.

Xiaojun: Mainly uses his fingers, will give a few licks here and there because he feels called to but he's not confident in his skills but his fingers are gold.

Hendery: Honestly he gets a little wild in there and ends up biting something it could feel good or not depending on what he's doing.

Renjun: A lot of kissing, he's very gentle and takes notes on what you seem to enjoy. Takes his time and does his best to please you.

Jeno: Gonna be honest a couple of hard licks and he says "my turn" and pulls his pants off.

Haechan: Kinda rough but in a good way, talks really dirty against it but it's muffled. Also might bite but in a good way. Will spank it if you pulled his hair when he told you to be good.

Jaemin: Also gives so many kisses down there, speaks softly, tells you how good you taste, loves trying out new things, gentle, teasing, it's an experience and a dream.

Yangyang: He doesn't know what the hell he's doing, you feel nothing and everything all at once. He enjoys doing it, maybe a little too much but Guidance isn't enough, send him to a class taught by Yuta and Jaemin.

Chenle: He doesn't have any kind of sex.

Jisung: Bless his heart he's trying his best, just guide and reassure him he's doing his best and he'll get there. But he's still better than Yangyang and Jaehyun.

[yanderehsr]

Hii, how was your day? I wonder if you could make a platonic yandere xianzhou with the characters you want(but I like to include Jing Yuan or Yanqing) with qiqi!reader. If this make you feel incomfortable don't hesitate to tell me or block me. Take care of yourself!!

My day is great, thanks for asking😀

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Jing Yuan: He is at first concerned, are you an expermient of sanctus medicus. He follows you around to see if you're safe to have around people. He sees you stretching and forgetting all kinds of things, he thinks you are pretty cute.

He decides to take you to his home, make sure you are safe. Jing Yuan repeats his name to you every day so you can remember him. He just finds you so cute, you are like a stress reliever.

"I have had a stressful day, come make me feel better"

Yanqing: WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE, Instantaneously becomes an overprotective brother to you, he teaches you sword skills so you can defend yourself, even if you forget them most of the time, he does not care, he likes spending time with you.

Does not like when you talk to others, your big brother is here, ignore those vermin. Will not try to help you with your memory, Yanqing finds it easier if you just forget who you were talking to, no one deserves you, not even he himself.

"Why were you talking to them, isn't your big brother enough"

Bailu: You interest her, you are somehow staying alive after death without an aeons help. She wants to study you and understand how this works. Somewhere along the way she started seeing you as a friend instead of something that can help advance her medical knowledge.

Bailu gets worried alot about you, you forget alot of things, even her sometimes. She gives you a dairy so you can write down things before you forget. Bailu also likes to hug you, it feels nice and cold. Just don't try to leave her, the vidyadhara can be quite... Possessive.

"Where are you going, it's better if you just stay here with me"

Was this what you had in mind🤔

[venerawrites]

ship: sasuke x fem! reader

genre: fluff

sasuke is travelling around the shinobi world during the blank period and he falls in love with a shinobi from one of the smaller villages like, the hidden waterfall after going on missions with them and eventually after a few months of knowing them he confesses ☺️😉

Sasuke x fem! reader

author's note: Once I read the request, I immediately had a scenario forming in my head and the whole story kind of "wrote itself"! I feel I did move a bit from the original request, but I really hope you still enjoy it! <3 Thank you so much for your ask!

Warnings: none really (Sasuke may be a little bit ooc? idk, it's always hard to decide with him, isn't it?)

“Again.”

Taking a deep breath, your hands instinctively moved in front of your chest, forming the now way too familiar hand signs. Feeling a burning sensation forming in your stomach, you brought your hand up to your mouth, creating a cupping motion and exhaling a large wave of water from between your lips. One by one the targets across the wall opposite of you fell on the floor, unable to withhold the strong pressure of the water.

A thin wooden stick suddenly slapped you across the wrist, making you drop your hand with a wince.

“Again.”

Gritting your teeth, you repeated the action, spewing a large amount of water from between your lips, while twisting your body towards the right side of the room. Moving your aim across the wooden targets that stood in a row, you made sure to hit all five of them, before dropping your hand away. Turning towards your teacher, you slightly bowed your head, before clasping your hands in front of you.

Yakizo, the middle-aged woman who your family hired to be your teacher, looked at you with squinted eyes, before clicking her tongue and letting out a scoff.

“Hmph”, she walked around you, the end of the stick hitting the lower end of your waist, immediately straightening your posture,

“You are not fit for a fighter. Perhaps you should focus more on your healing studies.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, a strong metallic taste filling the inside of your mouth.  The strong urge to snap back at the woman was making your fingers tremble and for a second you entertained the idea of unleashing your water wave jutsu directly at her always scowling face.

Your life has not always been like this.

Years ago, when your father was still among the living, you were trained alongside your brother Shibuki in various fighting techniques. But once he passed away and your sibling became the village head, everything changed. After drinking some of the Hero Water, Shibuki feared that his life span would shorten the same way it happened to your father, which would leave you as the only remaining member of the head family.

And that thought alone was enough for Shibuki to become paranoid and overly protective of you.

You were rarely allowed to go on missions and when you did - they were always lower-rank missions, way below your level of training and skills. Your lessons started to focus primarily on healing and medical ninjutsu, a decision made by Shibuki since "the village would benefit way more from having a highly-skilled healer, than another fighter".

When you refused to give up your fighting lessons, your brother decided to hire Yakizo to be the one teaching you. She was a bitter lady in her late 40s, who was a decent fighter, but a questionable tutor. She refused to let you practice anything more advanced than basic water release attacks and even then, she has always found something to critique.

"Lady Y/N", a voice called out. Both you and Yakizo turned towards the door, where a young male servant stood with his hands clasped behind his back, "Lord Shibuki request your presence."

Nodding your head, you turned towards your tutor, before laying your palms against each other in front of your chest and bowing respectfully. She never returned the gesture, instead clicking her tongue and twirling around, making her way towards the exit. You waited for a minute after her exit, before finally exhaling a breath of relief.

"Tough session, huh?", the servant asked, leaning against the door frame and smiling at you. You playfully rolled your eyes, before making your way towards him.

"Isn't it always, Suni?", you joked, exiting the room, "I don't understand why Shibuki insisted for her to be my teacher. I am pretty convinced she hates me."

Suni hummed in agreement, quickening his step so he could be beside you. Despite being from different social classes, both of you shared a strong friendship, which was formed early in your childhood days. Being the only person who knew the real dynamic of your strained relationship with your brother, he was also the only person you could fully relax and be open to.

"Perhaps this is exactly why he chose her", he said, tapping his index finger against his chin, "Maybe he hopes that since she is so awful, you are going to give up fighting altogether."

You snorted at his words, but you saw the logic behind them. And knowing Shibuki, it would not be surprising if that was his interior motivation for the choice.

"If it is going to make you feel better, I heard he is sending you on a mission", Suni said, bumping your shoulder playfully with his, "And this time it does not involve picking any fruits or vegetables."

A small spark of curiosity appeared in your eyes and you looked towards Suni, silently inviting him to say more. He, however, remained silent, choosing to move his gaze ahead instead.

"Are you not going to tell me more?", you pressed, leaning your head towards him, while trying to catch his eyes again. The way his face suddenly reddened and his eyes twitched in every direction but yours led you to believe that he knew more than he was letting on.

Fortunately for him, before you could enquire more, you both found yourself in front of the wooden sliding doors of the grand hall. Suni gave you a small apologetic smile, before sliding the door open.

"Lady Y/N", he announced your presence, before stepping aside and clearing a way for you to enter. Stepping inside, your eyes immediately fell on two male figures sitting opposite each other in the middle of the hall, one of which was your brother.

"Sister, welcome", Shibuki smiled and stood up, making his way towards you. You bowed your head towards him, before turning your attention to the other man. He remained seated with his head tilted down, calmly sipping from a small cup full of jasmine tea. His long raven locks fell in front of his face, blocking most of it from your view, but revealing enough for you to get an idea who he was.

"Please come meet our guest", Shibuki enthusiastically said, offering you his arm to grab, before he started making his way back to the centre of the hall. The man, who so far has not acknowledged your presence in any way, finally stood up, turning his head towards you. His onyx eyes met yours and for a second, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

Finally finding yourself in front of him, you politely bowed your head, patiently waiting for Shibuki to introduce you.

"I don't believe you met last time you were here", your brother said to the man, gesturing with his hand for all of you to sit down, "This is my sister, Y/N. One of the best medical ninjas in the village, despite being still in training."

You bit your bottom lip, biting down the urge to snap at your sibling. Instead, you choose to let a tight-lipped smile spread across your face, but you couldn't help the slight gritting of your teeth.

"This is Sasuke Uchiha", Shibuki continued, this time turning toward you, "He is a ninja from the Leaf Village, who kindly agreed to come here to help us with our current problem with the threats we received last week."

Sasuke's face remained stoic, his eyes focused on you. Unlike you, he did not offer any type of response or a greeting, instead choosing to take another sip of his tea, while his gaze remained boring into you.

"Very kind of him, indeed", you commented, refusing to give up in this little staring contest you found yourself in. You couldn't help but feel your body becoming more tense as time went on, a feeling of uneasiness setting deep inside your stomach. Not because of the foreign presence, but rather from the fact that you still did not have even the slightest idea of what Suni was talking about earlier.

"Right?", Shibuki brought his own cup to his lips, closing his eyes once the warm liquid made its way down his throat, "With allies like this, the people of Takigakure would have nothing to fear about."

"Forgive me my bluntness, brother", you said impatiently, your foot twitching nervously under the small table between you, "But what is the reason you have requested my attendance today? I assume it is not only so you introduce me to... your ally."

Before your brother can even open his mouth to reply, Sasuke's deep monotone voice sounded beside you:

"I need a guide."

"A guide?", your head snapped toward him, one of your eyebrows raising in a questioning manner.

"I need someone to be my guide during my time in the village", Sasuke calmly explained, his face remaining expressionless, "The threats you have received are made by a shinobi who, I suspect, are from the village. Their familiarity with the area is already to their advantage."

"I am afraid my duties do not involve providing tours to foreigners", you countered, your eyes squinting at him, before moving your gaze to Shibuki, "Brother, I told you that if you send me after them, I am fully capable to-"

"Enough!", your sibling's voice boomed, immediately silencing you, "Y/N, we already talked about this. You are not fit for fighting."

"But I am a shinobi! I just need a chance to prove myself and-"

"I SAID ENOUGH!", Shibuki's hands slammed on the table. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming his trembling body. It was a rare occasion for him to shout at you.

"You are to escort Sasuke during his time in the village. I believe you are going to be a good example of our village's hospitality and make sure he is feeling comfortable. You are going to accompany him to the neighbouring lands during the course of his investigation."

Your brother stood up from his chair, casting a quick glance at the clock on the wall opposite him. Nodding his head at the servants sitting in the corner of his room, he turned his attention back to the Leaf ninja.

"Please accept my apologies, Sasuke Uchiha", Shibuki's eyes quickly turned to glare at you, before they focused on the young male again, "I am afraid my sister sometimes forgets her lady manners and her place in this village. However, I believe she would be of great help in your pursuit of these criminals."

With those words, he bowed his head toward the man, before stepping aside and giving you one last warning look.

"Take Sasuke to his room and maybe for a walk around the village this afternoon", he commanded, before pointing his index finger at you, "And no fighting."

You reluctantly nodded your head, embarrassed that a foreign ninja became a witness to your little family row. Disagreements like this were not uncommon between you two, but so far they were rarely witnesses, and when they were, it was usually by people working at the Residence.

Once you were alone with the Uchiha, you took a deep breath, a polite fake smile forming on your lips.

"Well, then", you said, while getting up from your place, "I better take you to your room. Please follow me."

You turned on your heel and started walking, without waiting for him to get up. Your eyes met those of Suni, who gave you an apologetic look, before sliding the door open for you.

Walking through the corridors of the Residence, you had to look back a couple of times in order to make sure Sasuke was following you. He has remained silent the whole time, yet you could feel his gaze burning a hole in your back every time you faced away from him.

Finally arriving in front of a heavy wooden door, you grasped the handle and pushed it open, letting both of you inside. Quickly moving towards the window, you pushed the curtains aside, letting the daylight in.

"We are delighted to have you as our guest", the rehearsed words used for every guest made their way out of your mouth before you could even think about them, "I will be back later this afternoon, once you have a chance to rest. Meanwhile, if you need anything, a servant will be made available for you soon. You can let them know if you desire any food or refreshments."

Not waiting for a response, you started to make your way out, before his deep voice made you freeze in place.

"Your brother is right."

"I beg your pardon?", you turned towards him, waiting for him to elaborate. Sasuke was not even looking at you, instead focusing his attention on removing his cape and swords from his body. Your eyes fell briefly down his body, acknowledging how swiftly he worked his robe and weapon belt, despite having only one arm, but quickly made their way back to his face once he spoke again.

"These criminals are dangerous", he stated, grabbing his bag and starting to unpack it, "They have to be dealt with quickly and efficiently by a skillful shinobi, before they cause even more problems."

"I am a skillful shinobi", you protested, narrowing your eyes at him. Your fingernails pressed against your palms, a painful reminder that you were speaking to a guest and you had to hold your tongue behind your teeth.

"You said you were a healer", he looked at you, arching a brow. It happened just for a second, but you could've sworn that you saw the corner of his lip twitch upwards in what looked like a smirk. It disappeared as fast as it came, leaving his expression blank.

"Shibuki said I was a healer", you corrected, emphasizing your sibling's name. Sasuke hummed, looking you up and down, before focusing on unpacking his back again.

"And is he mistaken? Given your attire, I can already assume you are definitely not a fighter."

"Well, your assumption is wrong", the words came out more snarky than you intended, yet you did nothing to correct the way they sounded. Something about the way he was speaking irritated you - his tone, so calm and collected, sounded almost mocking in your ears. You couldn't help but feel judged by this stranger - whether it was because your brother has said something to him earlier or because he simply lacked a basic respect towards women - you did not know, but you did not like it.

Sasuke did not say anything else, instead letting out a low "hn" sound. He continued putting his clothes away, neatly arranging them by colour and size in the wardrobe. You stood in your place, following his movements with your eyes, before looking down at your dress. Technically, he was right that you were not dressed as a ninja - your long flowy light green kimono would be highly impracticable in a real fight, despite the fact you wore it during your basic training earlier. However, you felt unfairly judged, considering that you were at your own home, so of course you are not going to wear fighting attire.

Irritated by his earlier comment, you decided to bite back:

"You may have fooled my brother, Sasuke Uchiha", your voice came out low and sharp, "But the villagers, including myself, have not forgotten the terror you and your team of rogue ninjas have caused to our neighbours and allies. Do not mistake our hospitality for an opportunity to try and harm our village."

The words made Sasuke's movements halt for a while, his eyes glancing towards your through the thick curtain of raven hair covering half of his face.

"You have heard of me."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"We live in the Village Hidden by a Waterfall, not in a hole in the ground", you replied, turning towards the door again, "And even then, I believe your reputation would've found its way there too."

Before exiting you made sure to stop, giving him a chance to give you any sort of reply, which he did not. Instead, he remained silent, and after a minute of waiting, you heard him walking towards the wardrobe again, carefully arranging his stuff. Realising you won't get a response, you left the room and made your way back to the training grounds.

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

A few days have passed since Sasuke's arrival. Little words were exchanged between you, and when they were, they were primarily you explaining the layout of the village and him asking questions about the security around the area.

Being his guide was way more draining than expected. The large amount of time you spend in silence and his always blank expression soon started to bother you more than you'd expected. It was obvious that neither of you was thrilled with the other's presence, but you felt like you at least tried to pretend to be polite and appear unbothered. Something you couldn't say about him.

"He makes a lot of sounds", you complained one afternoon while sparring with Suni, "It is weird. It is like he has never interacted with another human being till this point! He just "hn"s and "mm"s all the time!"

The boy laughed, successfully blocking your swing towards his neck.

"You seem way too bothered about it", he commented, his smile dropping once you cast a harsh glare at him, "Just try to ignore him. I doubt this mission would last that long anyway."

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from Suni and wiping the sweat forming on top of your brow with the sleeve of your top. Taking this as a sign that the fight is over, he took a seat on one of the nearby rocks and passed you his pouch of water. Thanking him, you took it from his hands and took a large gulp of water.

"One mission this is", you mumbled under your breath, before taking a seat next to him, "I'm just walking the Uchiha around the village like he is on some type of holiday. Meanwhile, the threat to our village remains unresolved and my brother keeps holding me back."

Suni's eyes filled with sympathy and he laid one of his hands on your upper back, rubbing soothing circles.

"Shibuki just cares about you", he tried to reason, his words gentle and calm, "You are the only family he has left."

"As he is mine", you argued, turning your eyes towards your friend, " But I would never deprive him of the liberty of making his own choices. It's not fair! It is not right! There is a whole world out there I haven't even seen!"

You let out a sign, a feeling of guilt immediately washing over you. It was not Suni's fault for how you felt. And deep inside, you knew he was right - your sibling treated you the way he did, only because he was trying to protect you.

Sensing the way your body tensed, Suni wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards him and landing a comforting kiss on top your head.

"Lady Y/N", a cold voice sounded behind you, making you jump away from the boy and turn around. Dressed in his cape and holding his bag over his shoulder, Sasuke Uchiha's dark eyes stared intensely at you, not acknowledging Suni in any way.

"Sasuke", you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the idea that he may have heard your conversation. For how long was he sitting there?

"How can I help you?"

"I am leaving the village", he bluntly said, his eyes briefly moving to Suni and narrowing, before focusing back on you, "I believe I have all the information I need now."

You stood there silent for a while, both shock and confusion forming inside your mind. What was he talking about? What information? When did he even gather it, given for the past few days he was just silently walking around?

"I, um...", you opened your mouth, but quickly closed it again. You assume that you should have felt relief hearing his words, but for some reason, it never came.

Shaking your head, you offered him a tight-lipped smile, before moving towards him.

"That is great news", you said, your tone not matching the expected enthusiasm, "Please follow me. I will take you to my brother, before we provide you with enough food and coins for your journey."

Nodding your head to Suni as your "goodbye", you started walking towards the stairs of the Residence. You couldn't hear the Uchiha following you, but at this point, you have learned that he moved so silently, that it was impossible to hear his steps with the average human hearing. His long shadow, however, was an indicator that he was closely walking behind.

Your fingers were just reaching for the doors and about to open them when he spoke again:

"Come with me."

Your movements halted and you felt your breath hitched. Turning your head, you looked at him, sure that you have misheard him.

"Excuse me?"

"Come with me", he said again, this time taking a step closer, so he was towering over you, "We are leaving in an hour."

Opening your mouth, no sound came out, and you closed it again, before repeating. There was dozens of thoughts flooding your mind, yet none of them could make their way to your lips.

"I.. I can't! I have duties, I-", the words died on your lips and you suddenly felt unsure how to justify it.

"Duties of a 'healer', I know", the corner of his mouth twitched just a bit upwards, his expression suddenly looking almost humorous, "Your people seem to be of good health. I am sure they will manage a few weeks without you."

The mention of the word "healer" seemed to act like a switch for you and you managed to gather your composure. Your face hardening, you turned away again, grabbing the door handle one more time.

"It is not about that."

He hummed behind you, staying still.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To finally have a chance?"

Closing your eyes, you nodded your head, before you let out a dry chuckle.

"I wish it was that simple", you mumbled, finally entering the building. Before you could make more than a few steps, however, a calloused hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you lightly backward. You turned around, ready to question him, but stopped once you noticed how close he was to you.

"It is that simple", he stated, his fingers finally releasing you. His eyes traced your face from your forehead to your lips, before they stopped at your own, "I can find my way to the grand hall. You go and pack your bag. I will see you at the gates in an hour."

Before you could protest, he started walking away with a hurried step, leaving you alone in the corridor with a choice.

Either to finally give yourself what you have been craving for all your life or willingly give it up once and for all.

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

There was either something genius about Sasuke Uchiha or something severely wrong about him.

There was no other explanation of how he convinced Shibuki to let you go with him outside the village and for an unspecified amount of time, on top of that. Either way, whatever tactic he used, he refused to share with you, instead saying that your sibling agreed straight away.

Surprisingly, Sasuke insisted on walking, saying that while it was a slower method of moving, it was a better way of caving your energy and chakra. The logic behind his decision was questionable, but you did not argue further, instead deciding to follow him. So far, he has failed to share any details about your pursuit of the criminals, other than both of you are heading towards the Hidden Stone Village.

Hour by hour, the sun was moving lower and lower towards the horizon, letting the forest around fall in darkness.

"We better find somewhere to rest. It is going to rain soon", he observed, looking up at the dark grey clouds that were slowly traveling your way. You followed his gaze, nodding your head, before looking around you. You were surrounded by trees and there was no sign of any caves or shelters, you could use as a cover for the night. Your trained ears, however, caught another sound.

"There is a river nearby", you stated, turning towards the sound of moving water, "We better set a camp there, so we can refresh in the morning."

Just like you suspected, just a few minutes walk away from where you stood, was a stream running in the middle of a small meadow. Wasting no time, you took your jacket off and started going around, collecting fallen branches, bark, leaves, and everything you considered necessary, in order to start building a short-term shelter for the night.

Sasuke watched you with interest, deciding to help you with some of the bigger branches, despite having one hand. While you knew that even like that, he was at least twice more capable of handling himself, you couldn't help but feel bad at his effort to felp.

"It's okay. I've got this."

He scoffed, ignoring your words and lifting some of the materials off your hands. You quickly dropped what you were carrying and grabbed the branches and bark back, while giving him a stern look.

"I said I've got this."

Sasuke looked at you in surprise and after a minute, he raised his hand in a defensive motion. Putting the branches on top of the pile on the ground, you again lifted all of the stuff, making your way towards the middle of the meadow.

"You have an attitude problem", he calmly stated, while watching you build the frame for your shelter. You couldn't help but let out an obnoxious snort, looking up at him with a small smirk on your lips.

"That is very rich coming from you", you mused, wrapping some of the branches together. Sasuke's eyes narrowed, but he remained quiet, knowing that you did have a point. He watched you for a while, before deciding to start unpacking some of the food and drinks you brought with you.

"You don't talk a lot", you decided to break the silence, still expertly working your hands at making a secure frame on top of which to lay the bark and leaves.

"I have nothing to say", he replied, his voice waving just the slightest at the end of his sentence. If you hadn't listened carefully, you would have missed it.

"That's usually said by people who have awful lot to say."

Sasuke didn't answer and you assumed that was the end of your short conversation. Lifting the wooden frame you managed to build, so it stands, you started to carefully put pieces of bark and leaves on top of it. Putting the last few ones, you felt the first water droplets landing on your skin.

Both you and Sasuke hurried under the shelter, escaping just by seconds the moment the rain intensified. The space was quite small and you had to sit extra close together, your shoulder and knee pressed against each other. While in any other scenario, you would feel quite uncomfortable by the close proximity, now your attention was solely focused on the raging weather outside.

The last time you left the village was before your father passed away. To you seeing the outside world again was almost like a surreal dream and you tried to engrave every single thing inside your mind, knowing that another chance like this may not present itself for a long time.

"I hate the rain", Sasuke suddenly said, bringing you back to reality. You snapped your head in his direction and before you could stop it, a loud "pfft" sound left your lips.

"How could anyone hate the rain?", a quiet chuckle left your lips and your eyes lifted towards the sky again. Rain was a rare occurrence in your village and definitely something that was admired by your people. It was believed that it carried good luck and prosperity.

"It brings bad memories", was all he said, his eyes staring at the distance. You raised your brow, expecting him to continue, but when you looked at him, he seemed lost in what you assumed was a painful memory lane.

Crawling on your knees, you exited the shelter, goosebumps covering your skin the moment the cold water drops hit your skin. Your hair immediately became drenched, sticking to the side of your face, but the small smile that started dancing on your lips hinted you are anything but bothered by it.

Your hand extended towards him, inviting him to take it.

"Come."

He looked at your hand with an unimpressed gaze, before lifting his gaze to your face and clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"Do you want to catch a cold? Come under."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward you, not hard enough to pull him completely outside, but enough for his sleeve to get wet.

"Are you insane? Now I am all-", his irritated rant got interrupted the moment you laid your fingers on top of his mouth, laughing at his sour expression.

"Is the great Sasuke Uchiha intimidated by some water drops?", you taunted, tugging his hand again, "Come on, stop being a coward."

"I'm not-", he started saying, before letting out a sigh. Gritting his teeth, he crawled after you, his eyes narrowing in annoyance once the water quickly made its way through his clothes and hair. Exhaling an angry breath of air through his nose, he glared at you.

"Happy? Now we are both drenched."

You shushed him with your finger, pulling him away from the shelter and towards the middle of the grass meadow. Once you were satisfied with the place, your dropped on your knees, pulling grumbling Sasuke down with you.

"What are you doing?", he sighed, reluctantly following your silent commands. Sasuke was not one to let someone drag him left and right but he knew there was no point in arguing with you, as it seemed you were just doing whatever you wanted, without real consideration of how he felt about it. He couldn't help, but question if taking you with him was really a good idea.

And then he felt it... a gentle touch brushing the sticky hair out of his face, exposing both of his eyes to you. His immediate reaction was to grab your hand and pull it away, but you slapped his fingers with you other hand before he could do so.

"Let them go."

His eyes widened, unable to move away from your own. The way you stared at him, full of hope and expectation, made his throat suddenly feel dry. Raindrops continue to fall on both of you and he could swear that the way they reflected the moonlight made you appear... almost ethereal. Almost like all of this was one strange dream, one he was not really sure he wanted to wake up from.

"You said the rain brings bad memories", you continued, blinking through the heavy drops falling on your face, "It is time to let it wash them away. Let them go."

He opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the vivid images of his bloody past flood his mind. They felt so real, he almost thought he was experiencing it all over again, the only thing reminding him of the reality being the warm feeling of your hands holding his hair away from his face.

He would never be able to explain what happened that night. Perhaps he was tired, or having a weird sensation due to the cold... But something has changed. When he woke up the next day, you were already up, cooking some fish for breakfast. Looking up at him, you smiled.

"Beautiful day, isn't?", you pointed up towards the shining sun, while inhaling the smell of fresh grass, "It's like the forest had a fresh life brought into it. Wouldn't be possible if the skies hadn't cried their tears last night, I'll tell you that."

And for the first time he had known you, he openly agreed with what you said.

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

You and Sasuke travelled for three months together. During this time you visited many different places, including his home village Konoha. He has not shared any details in your pursuit of the criminals threatening Takigakure, but you assumed that your long journey meant that they kept moving from place to place. It annoyed you that they always seemed to be one step ahead of you, but you used the opportunity to enjoy the scenery and experience the culture of nations, you have only read about in books.

During these months, both of you also grew closer, and you were surprised to get to know the man who was hiding behind this emotionless mask he presented to the outside world. What you thought to be a selfish and arrogant ninja, turned out to be a deeply wounded and hurt individual, who continued to seek its place in this world. He shared with you what happened to his clan, his raging teenage years, spent seeking revenge, as well the truth he learned from his brother during their final battle. He talked you through his journey of change and his ultimate decision to travel the world in an attempt to atone for his sins.

You, on the other hand, had far less to share with him about yourself but still did open up about your dream to be a fighter, your strained relationship with your brother, and the heavy burden you felt growing up in a society where women were expected to act and behave in a certain way.

"Sometimes I'm sick of being Lady Y/N", you shared one day, while you were walking through the woods, "Sometimes I want to be just Y/N."

Sasuke hummed at your words. One thing that hasn't changed is his preference to make noises, rather than use words.

"There is nothing wrong with being both", he finally said after a minute, and you clicked your tongue, before crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"But I don't want to be both", you huffed, annoyed that he couldn't just agree with you and instead wanted to counter your point, "I don't want to sit in pretty dresses and practice medical jutsus all day long. I want to fight for my people and protect them! I want to be a warrior."

Your words made the man stop in his place, turning toward you with unreadable expression. Staring into your eyes for what feel like couple long minutes, he finally lifted his hand towards your head, before flicking you on the forehead with his middle finger.

"Ow!"

He let out a low chuckle, something you have heard only once since you've met him, his expression looking amused, while yours seemed annoyed.

"There are far too many warriors there, damaging the world", he said, before pausing for a minute, looking up at the sky, "and far too few, who can heal it."

Your lips twitched sideways, brows lifting in surprise at his sudden wisdom. Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you continued walking down the forest path,

"The most I've fixed is a broken wrist of a child", you admitted, grumpily, "The truth is that our ninjas do not get assigned a lot of missions, therefore they do not get hurt. So my healing record is just as bad as my fighting one."

"You healed me."

Those words made you stop in place. So far you've indulged only in two fights and Sasuke managed to handle both of them pretty much by himself without even a scratch on his body. So what was he talking about?

"What?"

He took a few steps towards you, stopping right in front of your face. You were not sure if the sunset was casting it's light into his pale skin or if it was a result of some other optical illusion, but there was the slightest hint of rose colour covering his cheeks.

"You are the most stubborn, impulsive, impatient, and assertive woman I know. You also have a massive attitude problem", he said and you felt your jaw drop. Was he serious right now? Clutching your fists next to your body, your eyes narrowed and were ready to fight back, before he continued:

"And believe me, I know a lot of women with attitude. Yours is unmatched so far."

Pushing him on the chest, you managed to make him stumble a step back, while you got directly in his face. With cheeks and ears reddened from the blood boiling beneath your skin, you were unsure where his sudden passive aggression was coming from, but if he was seeking a fight, he was going to get one.

"Yeah? Well, that's funny, considering you are the most arrogant man- Hmpf!"

Sasuke's hand covered your mouth and he smirked seeing the rage behind your eyes, while shaking his head.

"See? Too impatient", he said, before moving his hand and flicking you on the forehead once again, "It is this tough personality and behaviour, that is often too much to handle, that makes you the woman I admire and respect so much. You showed me what is really important and taught me how to let go of the past... past which has been haunting me for years and which heaviness I believed I was destined to carry for years."

The beating of your heart suddenly increased, loudly drumming against your ribcage. A warm feeling spread inside your stomach, making your muscles tense. You loudly gulped, bringing your hands up to move his palm away from your mouth. He let you do it, relaxing at the feeling of your warm touch.

"Are you saying..."

He nodded.

"I am saying that during these past three months, you made me feel and experience things I have never before. Seeing the world through your eyes felt like... it felt like I was seeing it for the first time too", he moved his glance sideways, focusing on the little white flowers poking out of the grass next to you, "You have brought a fresh life into my existence."

You stayed silent, your brain taking some time to process his words. Sasuke's hand became tense in your hold, a sign of his anxiousness as a result of your lack of response. He was about to pull it away when your fingers dipped into his skin, a small playful smile playing on your lips.

"Say it."

"Say what?", he looked at you confused.

"Say "I like you.""

"I've literally just did that", he deadpanned and you rolled your eyes, tugging him close to you by his arm. Pushing your face into his again, you tried to ignore his musky smell, instead focusing on remaining a serious expression.

"You didn't say it directly, you just hinted at it", you pointed out as a matter of fact, tilting your head to the side, "I want to say it directly."

"No."

"Coward."

You stepped away with a smile, but before you could pull your hand, he laced his fingers with you, before starting to walk again. His expression and attitude seemed completely nonchalant, but the slightest blush covered the side of his cheeks, neck, and ears. You smirked a little, deciding it is enough teasing for now and giving him a light squeeze with your fingers, while continuing your journey through the woods.

"I like you too."

"I know", he said, his voice giving away the small smile on his lips. Clicking your tongue, you slapped him playfully on the shoulder, before your eyes widened.

"Wait a minute...", you stopped in your tracks, noticing the waterfall in the distance, "We are back home."

"We are", he confirmed, seemingly unphased by the fact you were back to the Village Hidden by a Waterfall, completely empty-handed. Not only you did not capture any of the rogue ninjas that threatened your home, but you didn't seem to have made a lot of progress in finding who they were during the few months you were away.

Running in front of him, you laid your hand on his chest, stopping him from continuing forward.

"Wait", you panted, your brain erratically thinking of what you should do, "We can't go back. We have not found those ninjas yet, we-"

"They have been in prison for months now", he interrupted you, "We captured them on the morning of the day we left."

Your mouth fell open and you tried to pull your hand away from his grasp, but he held it firmly. Unable to control yourself, you slapped him on the chest with your free one, emphasizing each word with each hit:

"You. Tricked. Me!"

Sasuke pulled you forward, using the opportunity to wrap his arm around your shoulder and press you against his chest, stopping your movements.

"I didn't trick you", he defended himself, "I said I was leaving because I had all the information I needed, which I did. I knew who the rogue ninjas were and I left Shibuki to deal with their punishment."

You relaxed in his embrace, processing what he said. So the whole time while you thought you were chasing some genius criminals... you were just travelling from place to place?

"The day we left... You said there is a whole world out there you haven't even seen", his words brought you back to the day you sat in the gardens, complaining to Suni, "I wanted you to have that."

His words soon started to fade away and your focus shifted to the sound of his heartbeat. Your arms, which were limply hanging down, slowly moved around his waist, pressing him against you as a silent "thank you". Your eyes set at the horizon, following the shapes of the dark clouds forming in the distance.

"It's going to rain."

His chin gently relaxed on top of your head.

"I like the rain."

cc artwork: Arthur Zima

[severus-snaps]

Legilimency & Occlumency & Emotion

i was reading something somewhere (possibly on my binge of metas last night, but who knows) that Snape was very talented at Occlumency, but just about average at Legilimency - but I respectfully disagree, and here's a whole (3k word) accidental ramble about it, which started as an observation and devolved into how I think Legilimency/Occlumency works in the context of Snape and Voldemort, and why I interpret it differently than it being (entirely) magical dissociation and actually quite an emotion-based skill once it's more complex TLDR: I've often seen Occlumency described/conceptualised as a "shield" or some kind of suppressed emotionless state, but I discovered upon writing this that I think it can be quite a bit more complex and emotional, actually - just like Snape <3

Snape's Talents

The idea that got me rambling today went something like "Draco, who only had a handful of lessons from Bellatrix, was able to keep Snape out of his mind using Occlumency - so Snape can't have been a very good Legilimens, or Occlumency was easy to do"

And I do agree that Snape was probably better at Occlumency than Legilimency by sheer quantity of practice alone - and also that, outside of using it on Harry (and Draco) when they were up to mischief, and Snape likely wishing he could use it to work out what Dumbledore was hiding from him, Snape had no desire to see, hear, interpret or otherwise get the gist of what anyone at Hogwarts was thinking - but especially not a bunch of pubescent students, nor colleagues who liked him on a surface level but obviously were not close enough to think Something Was Up when he killed Dumbledore (which, fair in some ways, unfair in others, but I digress)

[side note: Snape can't have just not used Occlumency for over a decade before Voldemort's return, so I like to think of him and Dumbledore practicing to keep his skills sharp - although I expect that would be another 'fun' way for Dumbledore to hold Snape in chains which would make for an interesting fic]

I suspect that if Snape had chosen to, he could've invaded Draco's mind in that scene, broken through whatever defenses Draco used - but that's not a very Snape thing to do to a student, and especially not one he knows well, was a family friend of, has closely seen grow up, and probably has a soft spot for. It's very reminiscent of his conversation with Narcissa, to me. Throughout that entire conversation with Draco, Snape was trying to comfort Draco, empathise with him, get Draco to trust him, confide in him, offer support to Draco whether he wanted it or not - not further alienate him to a point where Snape couldn't help. And besides, invading Draco's mind aggressively doesn't sit very well with his vow "to the best of your ability, protect him from harm".

And as for Harry's lessons, Harry was using spells - which Snape seemed surprised, interested, and almost impressed to learn that were effective against Legilimency, which isn't surprising in itself as it's not a widely used area of magic. And since Harry had no idea that Snape (and probably Dumbledore) were 'reading his mind' for years before he learnt about Legi/Occlumency, I don't expect many people would know if Snape used it, or put up a fight using those methods - other Death Eaters probably stuck to Occluding, because it would hardly garner any favour if they cast a stinging hex or Protego at Voldemort or in a DE meeting Which brings me back to my other point as well, which was that "Occlumency possibly wasn't difficult to do". On a rudimentary level that might be true (at least insofar as any advanced magic was difficult to do - Harry was actually quite talented, e.g. casting a corporeal patronus at 13/14 or whatever, and Draco could do it after a few lessons with Bellatrix). Harry learnt almost despite Snape, because he didn't take instruction from him well and because Snape is (intentionally) abrasive in lessons (which I could go on about, since Snape couldn't really be nice to Harry when Voldemort was possibly looking through harry's eyes at any given moment - and as other metas have pointed out was another layer to Snape's rage when Harry looked at his memories). But Snape could do it without a wand, without an incantation, so he was reasonably skilled - imagine casting a full body Patronus or other impressive spell with neither a wand nor an incantation

Also we don't know precisely how long Draco had lessons for, it might have been loads and he was actually pretty good, or it might have been 3 and he was awful. But unlike Snape, who is not the greatest Legilimens of all time (that's apparently Voldemort?), it was glaringly obvious to him that Draco was using Occlumency - Snape had him sussed in like 3 seconds, and chose not to go any further for the reasons I outlined above - which interestingly he did not do with Harry, when faced with finding out where Harry learnt Sectumsempra (but at that point both Snape and Draco's life had been on the line - if Draco dies, presumably so does Snape?)

Which brings me back to Snape... How I think Legilimency/Occlumency works (sometimes)

You have no subtlety The mind is a complex and many-layered thing It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in [Voldemort's] presence without detection.

There's a lot to take in there, and also pretty ballsy to say to Voldemort-by-proxy (Harry), which might reduce the validity of my idea that Snape didn't want to be nice to Harry during their lessons in case Voldemort was watching, since Snape's pretty happy to give Voldemort (and the reader, more likely) a complete insight into what he's himself doing... although I expect that Voldemort has considered this, and also doesn't recognise the limits of his own power - or the extent of Snape's.

I also wonder whether the 'certain conditions' are something simple, like eye contact being made or the spell being cast, or whether there's something to the mental state of the 'caster' at the time as well, like there is with Occlumency walls/shields and being calm and empty-headed, or whether the conditions is the Occluder themselves presenting (or not presenting) some alternative things to interpret. One of the wizarding world (I think) pages says Snape trained a 'slight natural ability', so that makes me wonder more, as well, but i digress.

But my second point is this: Snape's talents weren't Occluding by total shutdown, or Occlumency 'shields' which always now irk me in fanfiction (this I'm definitely drawing from another meta but I have no idea where, so... apologies). Snape wasn't throwing up a wall in front of entire memories or thoughts, for the most part. Although I expect that between the Pensieve and Draco's example use of Occlumency, that was sometimes a function (e.g. some of the things Dumbledore told Snape to pass along, he'd have to entirely block out, alter, or otherwise adapt those memories to make it look as though Snape had passed information along of his own volition against Dumbledore's orders, or hide the fact that he'd helped Dumbledore when he was supposed to be helping Voldemort, etc).

So inkeeping with my own questionable metaphor, where Draco threw up a wall - metaphorically crumbling, last-minute, cowboy builder Occlumency where the wall would hold but you could see it very clearly and obviously; where with a lesser Occlumens the wall was nice enough, but you could see where the paint job didn't quite match up and the plastering wasn't done very evenly; Snape had the whole house set up so that you didn't know the wall wasn't there from the start, and probably had a few artfully chosen scuffs to make it seem real, or it was some kind of trapdoor under the carpet. (okay the metaphor died, but I've been watching a lot of remodelling shows lately, you get the point if you've read this far)

In another metaphor I imagine detecting a lie to be like running your fingertips along a smooth surface and finding a lip or a bump - you could then, pick at it, poke at it, tear it open. You could sense that something was being hidden, or withheld. But there were no lips or snags in Snape's thoughts; potentially Voldemort could simply not detect them, not even when he searched him openly, repeatedly, full eye contact, at the table at Malfoy Manor. Snape welcomed Voldemort into his (it's just occurred to me, but "mind palace") and Voldemort repeatedly, for years, could not tell that anything was amiss, and presumably Voldemort did this with much more ferocity (and skill) than Snape looking at Harry for 2 seconds and immediately summoning Harry's mental image of the Prince's copy of Advanced Potions Making

But it can't be down to detection alone. There's also a level of interpretation to Legilimency. So here I'm focusing on a more interesting aspect to me, which is how emotion is used in Legilimency/Occlumency. Obviously, Snape isn't Occluding all the time, and as much as I adore Alan Rickman, book!Snape was naturally a total petty, stuttering mess (love him for it) who only wishes he had Alan Rickman's gravitas, and could on occasion emulate it.

I told you to empty yourself of emotion! … Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers!

I think this quote is interesting for many reasons I probably won't be able to connect properly and are in no particular order beyond how I thought of them

Snape is emotional here when he says it, he's angry, annoyed, upset, and it's an honest feeling, and he's obviously not devoid of emotion but can still Occlude Harry

Snape is an emotional person, much as he tries to pretend not to be, and can still Occlude Voldemort just fine even on the night he thinks he's marching to his death at the end of GoF

Much like how many other kinds of magic require lots of study and a strong emotion/will/conscious thought at the start, perhaps it become easier with experience to the point where this advice is not essential (e.g. kind of like driving, I no longer have to think about changing gears like I did as a Learner)

Snape is also talking about himself here, indicative of Snape's worldview where showing 'weak' emotions is the problem - soft emotions, vulnerability, "never tell".

"Provoke" is exactly what Voldemort does to Harry

This is Occlumency 101; Snape's teaching Harry the most basic of Occlumency - to compartmentalise, to block someone out, to throw up that shoddy but sturdy-enough wall for Voldemort to come up against, like Draco did to Snape. Harry's anger and emotion is a weakness in this basic Occlumency lesson, where Voldemort is trying to look through Harry and/or trick/provoke him; thus, the wall.

But this probably isn't the kind of Legilimency Voldemort would use on Snape (which is to see if he's lying, if his information is real, if his values are aligned, etc), and it probably isn't the kind of Occlumency Snape was doing in return, to lie or deflect suspicion or ingratiate himself. In fact, throwing up a wall is the opposite of what Snape does with Voldemort; Snape lets him in, lets him stare him down in front of an audience, all the while showing Voldemort what he wants to see. I think as well there's an element of a Legilimens 'grasping' for something, searching, "provoking", like how Snape 'grasped' for Harry's memories of Advanced Potions Making, how Voldemort appears to search Snape at Malfoy Manor - so if all Snape presents is a memory, empty, devoid of any complexity, Voldemort would question it.

In my interpretation, when Occluding, Snape displays a different type of emotional control; Complex Occlumency means you control your emotions, yes, but not block them off - Snape takes his emotions where they need to go, makes them do what they need to do, to support the interpretation he wants Voldemort to reach. He chooses to some extent what Voldemort sees if he lies outright or omits details (a well made wall, basic Occlumency), and chooses how to present it (complex Occlumency). And he does it with subtlety; he doesn't often outright lie, and there's a lot left to interpretation - in both Snape's speech (with Bellatrix) and his actions throughout the books, and presumably his Occlumency.

So I suggest that Snape, in a situation with Voldemort, must be able to "lift up" or "lean into" an alternative emotion for interpretation - the decoration around the wall, the interior design, if you will. For example, Snape couldn't tell Voldemort that he desired Lily, in a total absence of any feelings at all, without it coming across as false and thus easily detectable as a lie. And you know that when a young Snape, who's hardly made a name for himself (Snape's likely never killed, at least, and isn't especially memorable to anyone in Azkaban and is last named by Karkaroff, and other things I won't go into here) outside of overhearing half a prophecy begs for a Mudblood Order member who's the mother of Voldemort's downfall who's thrice defied him to be spared, you can bet that Voldemort will want to thoroughly find out why, so...

To me this suggests that there was a level of desire there that Snape could 'lean into', whether that desire be for Lily or someone else he found desirable to act as a kind of substitute - though given that Legilimency seems to work on mental images and memories at least in part, a memory where he desired Lily would've been useful. And I'm just using that as an example, because Voldemort would also presumably at some stage have interrogated what Snape thought of Dumbledore and Harry, and Snape would've had to lean into feelings of hatred and loathing - which he'd manage just fine for Harry, but Snape would have leant into his feelings after Dumbledore silenced him after nearly getting eaten by a werewolf and again freeing Sirius in PoA, but I digress

When Harry finally learns Occlumency (by his own admission) in the wake of Dobby's death, it's grief that helps him master it - which, for me personally, is not a detached, clear-headed feeling in any sense. It's visceral, emotional, and painful; all-consuming. It's love/grief/loss/strong loving emotion that forces Voldemort out, after he loses Sirius and again when he loses Dobby. But it's a contrast to the emotions Voldemort uses of Harry's to draw Harry out, via his fears for Sirius. But with grief, Harry's dived headfirst into feeling what Voldemort doesn't want to feel (unlike the anger), to keep Voldemort out of his mind. Whereas Snape would do the opposite, and dive right in to the feelings Voldemort would want to sense - to the exclusion of others. Would Voldemort even think to search for Snape's love for Lily, if he was first presented with something more visceral, with more negative connotations, like desire or jealousy, hurt or betrayal? These are the emotions Voldemort thrives on and can exploit, that he's familiar with, that he understands. In the context then of 'grasping' that's how I think Snape leads Voldemort down a path of believing him - by bringing honest 'negative' emotions to the fore that Voldemort understands.

this is really where I think skilled Occlumency differs from dissociation or wall-building. I think Snape would simultaneously have to dampen his 'lie' feelings and to raise the volume on the 'fitting' feelings for his chosen interpretation. My interpretation of this all stems from my experience of writing, of getting lost in music, in using those activities to "wallow" in certain feelings. Snape does not present Voldemort with his true feelings, but they are real feelings. So in that way, I feel Snape was like an artist or writer; he felt deeply, he felt conflictingly, and dived headfirst into those wells of emotion when he needed to - diving so deeply that it cuts off and hides the conflicting evidence. I feel that when I'm writing, when I'm listening to music, when I'm wallowing. And I feel a lot of sympathy for Snape, because it can feel like a real whiplash when you're midway through writing an intense scene or listening to some excellent music that really fills you up with something, it can take you to some dark places, and it's quite shocking somehow when abruptly interrupted - which would be what his life was constantly like after Voldemort's return, leaning into and shying away from/shutting down emotions and memories he didn't necessarily feel whenever he was called, and then having to return to work or meetings in that headspace, where everything feels out of touch and you're in internal turmoil. (Granted, I can snap out of it because the music or the writing is neither here nor there, really, but he'd be doing it with his own life experiences, with his own life on the line, and to repay a debt of guilt - there's a lot more emotional baggage there, and even more once Dumbledore died). And I think it would take its toll in other ways, too, which leads me to Lily...

Far from some people's cries that possessive or obsessive attraction or desire is some huge moral failing, I'd argue that you'll find a level of it in most teenagers and indeed the regular spectrum of human emotion - I know I've certainly experienced feelings of intense jealousy and whatever 'Snaters' (I'm not a massive fan of the term, but as a shorthand) accuse Snape of, whether I acted on it or not. So I'd suggest that Snape 'leant into' that for the sake of being on the receiving end of Voldemort's Legilimency. Whether Snape regularly, or actually, felt those emotions of his own free will or not is hard to say - since there's no actual evidence he did act possessive or jealous beyond the normal teenager level (and that's without addressing the fact that we didn't know how he would've ended the sentence "I won't let you -"). And I'd also go as far as to say that Snape probably, truly, had some awful thoughts (don't we all?) and so he was able to lean into some very dark and gloomy nooks and crannies of his mind, the parts we're told healthy people steer clear of acting on but also undoubtedly experience (jealousy, possession, rage, bitterness) in much the same way as a writer, artist, or musician might, to make his 'lies' and the stories he told more 'truthful' - which was why Voldemort trusted him so much.

TLDR: Snape's a man of many contraditions and very much emotional depth, and he manipulated his own emotions (likely to the detriment of his mental health) for years. But just as I, a fanfic writer, can vicariously experience the bitter resentment for a person who doesn't love me, can imagine a world where he can think those thoughts, embody them, and still not take them on as part of his identity.

anyway i don't have a conclusion, I just had thoughts

[Side note not strictly related to ANY of the above: I find it interesting as well that Voldemort's skill is apparently specifically in working out whether people are lying to him, suggesting that you could specialise even further into different aspects of behaviour. But people do lie to Voldemort (Narcissa, Snape, off the top of my head, but there's no indication of Voldemort using Legilimency on Narcissa in that moment where Harry lives - Voldemort was too elated, once again caught up in his own glory). [side side note: Harry's treatment after his 'death' does make me wonder, briefly, about Snape's own treatment when he returned at the end of GoF - public torture and humiliation, an opportunity for the other DEs to turn on one of their own to 'increase their own standing' in Voldemort's eyes, crucio to weaken Snape's defences, to check that his information and loyalty true? i get the impression that Snape shared his information with Voldemort privately, given that Bellatrix didn't seem to know much about Snape's return, but who's to say there wasn't some 'fun' beforehand, or at other points during his time as spy]

[slowburningechoes]

remediation

Summary: When your first forensic interview isn't up to program standards, you are forced to meet with your obnoxiously intelligent teacher's assistant to brush up on your knowledge and skills... but he ends up being much different than you imagined.

Pairing: TA!Spencer Reid x Graduate Student Fem!Reader

Content Warning: 18+ Content (NSFW/NSFM) | Slow burn with eventual smut, angst, fluff, pining, sexual tension, office encounters, oral (f)

Word Count: 7.4k

This had to be the most mortifying experience of your life. You had never failed at anything before. Aside from negative lab results from the hospital, your record of passing tests and proving your competency in various areas has never been a problem. Academic accomplishment was your strong suit.

And now, you found yourself here.

In your professor's (who also happens to be the director of the entire program) office, along with his teaching assistant, who happened to be the most obnoxious man you'd ever encountered.

Even though he was only a teaching assistant, Professor Walters always made sure that we called him Doctor Reid since he already had two PhDs and was on his way to a third. He wasn't even a psychology student, he just picked up being the PSY745: Advanced Forensic Psychology TA for fun. Who does that? How was he even allowed to do that?

Those factors alone were enough to vex you, but the reasons just continued to pile up. His hair always being tucked behind his ears, the loose professional clothes swallowing his lanky body, the thick black framed glasses he would wear sporadically... but the absolute worst of all were the tangents.

Somehow, Dr. Reid always knew something about everything - and everything about that something. He would ramble on past the point of relevance, stating the most arbitrary statistics in the most interminable manner. You swear he rambled on last week for nearly an hour about the specific neurochemical indictors associated with criminal deviance. That was the only one you could recall the specifics of since it was slightly interesting and mildly related to the topic of the lecture... but still exasperating, nonetheless.

Now, you found yourself in a predicament stuck in the same room with him for an indeterminate amount of time. You hoped that Dr. Walters would take the lead on this very critical (and frankly, mortifying) conversation... but unsurprisingly, Dr. Reid opened his mouth first.

"Well, miss y/l/n," he started, propping his right ankle upon the opposite knee. "I assume you know why you're here?"

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and maintain professional, responding blankly, "Yes. I do. I made a C on my clinical interview at the men's correctional facility."

Dr. Walters chimed in, "Correct. I believe that you may benefit from some additional guidance before your next session. Until then, pending the results of that interview, you will be placed on remediation."

He was right. You had entered the interview room of the prison, something you had looked forward to accomplishing throughout your entire adult life, and completely froze. You couldn't figure out for the life of you why, whether it was realizing the heinous crimes of the man across from you or knowing that both the men who sat across from you now were standing behind the two-way mirror analyzing your every move. When you finally formed words, they were careless and disorganized, allowing the subject to completely take over the interview. It was humiliating... but this sit-down may be even worse.

"I think that would be very beneficial. Thank you, Dr. Walters," you say, swallowing your pride.

"Perfect. Up until your next interview, you will meet at least twice weekly with Dr. Reid," he states matter-of-factly.

There was no inquiry in his tone, no inflection requiring a response from you. It was set in stone. Dr. Reid was your new tutor for the next two and a half weeks. That meant 4 meets at the very least. But you had to agree as a compliance to your remediation. Your academic success was on the line, and that was a bigger disruption to your life than having to put up with Mr. Know-It-All a couple times a week.

"How does tomorrow at 8:30 work for you?" Dr. Reid asks, opening his leather bound planner.

"In the morning?" You raise your eyebrows, to which he responds with a nod. "On a Saturday?" Another nod.

Alright, you were convinced this man was truly insane. The delay in your speech caused him to tilt his head, signally for an answer. You had already planned a school work-free night of copious wine consumption with your roommate, but you decided you had nothing to lose in agreeing to meet sooner rather than later.

"I have a feeling you'll need some caffeine. Do you want to meet at The Roast?" he offered generously.

You hadn't expected him to care about how conscious you would be, since he had already suggested an early morning meeting on the weekend.

"I'll see you there," you agree, leading his pencil to jot down the information under tomorrow's date. "Thank you, again, Dr. Walters... Dr. Reid."

Your eyes meet for a moment longer then expected before you quickly gather your belongings and head out of the office.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The progressively louder beeps from your alarm woke you up with a jolt from your wine-induced slumber at 7:15 am. The first thing you noticed was the splitting headache spreading across your forehead and deep behind your temples. Probably not your best idea, but you weren't going to sacrifice plans you had already set in stone just for a good night's sleep before meeting with some overly intellectual teaching assistant.

You pop a few Tylenol and take a quick scalding hot shower, and the hangover begins to wear off. As you brush your teeth, you contemplate just showing up as you are - sweatpants and wild hair barely held back by your scrunchy, but you figure that may reflect just as poorly on your professionalism than failing your interview assignment. Plus, you know Dr. Reid will inevitably be dressed to the nines. He probably even expected you to show up looking slovenly. You decide to prove him wrong.

You sort through your closet in an attempt to find the most obnoxiously academic outfit you own. The typical black suit-white blouse combination that most forensics students donned was certainly not enough to prove your point. As you reach the end of your professional clothes, you see the perfect outfit: a pencil dark chocolate brown tartan skirt with a long sleeve cream mock-neck shirt. To finish the outfit off, you grab the matching blazer for the skirt, dark tights, and black chunky loafers.

You pulled your hair back so most of it was off of your neck and face, but a few wispy parts fell to the front before glancing down to check the time on your phone.

8:05 am. You can't believe you spent so much time searching for an outfit for your mandatory tutoring session - how embarrassing. You had to pick up your pace, the coffee shop was at least a fifteen minute walk and you sure as hell weren't going to be late. You were certain that Dr. Reid had already ordered some piping hot bitter black coffee and overanalyzed the room to choose the most ideal seating for optimal heat flow or something completely ridiculous like that.

You manage to throw together some light coverage makeup, swiping gel through your brows and managing to get one coat of mascara on before your stumbling out the door with your backpack swung over one shoulder.

The walk is chillier than you expect and for a moment you regret being bare legged in the middle of fall in New England, but the impact of the outfit would make up for bracing the frigid air.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

By the time you enter the coffee shop, your nose and cheeks are bright pink from cold and the heat inside was so warm it stung your skin. You pull out your phone to check the time just as your body fully passes through the doorway.

8:25 am. The cold had slowed you down a bit, but you were still technically early.

You scan the room and lock eyes with Dr. Reid in the corner booth diagonal from the doorway. His usually straight and studying stare was strangely one that seemed to be of concern, with furrowed brows and widened eyes. As you stride towards him, he suddenly stands up.

"This side is warmer, sit here," he says, gesturing to wear he had just been seated.

You give him a confused look. "No, Dr. Reid. That's alright, really."

"No, no, you look like you're freezing," he motions to the bench and places his hand on your back. "I insist."

You didn't feel like arguing, especially since all you could think about was getting off your feet - those loafers definitely weren't broken in all the way. Why did you care to impress him so much anyways?

You sit down and hand his briefcase off to him from across the table. He was right, though, this side was pretty cozy already.

"You haven't even ordered anything yet. What would you like?" Dr. Reid asks, moving his own cup across the table.

You catch a glimpse at the abbreviations on the side that translated to: 20 oz latte with two extra shots of espresso and - 6 packets of sugar? This man definitely wasn't the straight black coffee man you pinned him to be. He certainly needed the caffeine boost, but he needed enough sugar to kill a small animal in order to down it.

You glance up at him and his head is perched to the side, waiting for an answer to his inquiry.

"Uh - don't worry, I'll go grab something real quick!" You urge, fiddling through your backpack for your wallet.

"It's alright, let me get it. Something to make having to sit with me a little less miserable," he states, spitting the first self-deprecating and non-savant joke you'd heard him say. "What will it be?"

You manage to half-grin through your frozen cheeks, agreeing to his offer. "A hot dirty chai with oat milk would be perfect."

You swear you caught a smirk flash across his face before he turned and headed for the counter. You had never thought of Dr. Reid as being anything less than some kind of humanoid robot, but he was managing to quickly tear down that perspective. When he arrived back with your drink, he continued to deconstruct that idea entirely by a simple phrase.

"You can call me Spencer, by the way."

Spencer. You, of course, knew his first name couldn't possibly be "doctor" but there was never an inkling that he would be okay with you calling him anything but that title.

"Then you can call me y/n, not miss y/l/n," you respond teasingly, slipping the warm drink from his hand.

An embarrassed grin spreads across his lips. "Yeah, I'm sorry about all that. It's an old school formality that Dr. Walters insists upon. But here, I'm Spencer and you're y/n."

Something about the way he said your name made all of your cheeks radiate with heat, thankfully the wind-burn rash covered up the fact that you were blushing. That was even more embarrassing than spending a ridiculous amount of time on your outfit, especially since it seems to have had no influence on him whatsoever compared to the fact you looked frozen. Now he was making you blush, what the hell?

"So, what do you say we get to it?" Spencer inquires, opening up his briefcase to remove multiple books and a file with your name on it. "What has been giving you the most trouble?"

You down another sip of your tea before reaching into your backpack to remove your laptop. "Honestly, reviewing general interview skills would probably be beneficial."

He opened the black folder with your name on the front and shuffled through the stack of papers in its right pocket. Spencer pulls out numerous papers from various points in the stack and laid them out between the two of you. They were some of your verbatim transcriptions from your practice interviews from throughout your previous semester and current forensic psychology classes. Each had a red circled "A" on the top right-hand corner with various positive comments along the side.

"You know the content, y/n. You have the skills and you demonstrated them well when practicing with your peers. We can go over them again if you like, but I don't want to repeat things you already excel at," Spencer said matter-of-factly, pointing to the multiple successes spread in front of you.

You were silent for a moment, stunned that he had said you "excelled" and generally unsure of how to proceed. You couldn't admit to him that you had just become paralyzed as you entered the room. That you felt incapable and that your heart was beating a thousand times per second as soon as the door slammed shut behind you. The doubt permeated and transformed into anxiety, which completely ruined not only your confidence but now your competency level. You wanted, still, to prove yourself as capable and qualified in your pursuits.

Spencer eventually broke the silence, sensing your discomfort. He proceeded to go back over the basic intervention skills with you and pose a variety of practice questions for the next few hours until it was close to lunch time. He was right, it did feel repetitive and quite pointless, but if it helped you overcome the remediation period that's all that mattered.

As you wrapped up your first session together and headed for the door of the cafe, Spencer noticed how your face winced as the cold air hit your body.

"Let me drive you home, y/n," he insisted, adjusting the long strap that held his briefcase on his arm. "You were practically frozen when you came in this morning."

"The sun is out now, so it won't be as cold," you responded quickly.

He gave you a smug and perplexed look. "Don't be ridiculous. My car is right around the corner."

You gave in and walked beside him down the sidewalk, bundling your coat around you for warmth. Spencer eventually halted beside an old fashioned cream colored car and placed his keys in the passenger side door. Once unlocked, he opened the door and motioned for you to take a seat.

When you sat down you noticed the cool touch of the dark leather against the back of your thighs and a faint scent of bergamot and vanilla surrounded you. Soon, Spencer sat down beside you. The make of the car was so antique there was no console to separate your knees from accidentally bumping his.

"Where am I headed?" he asked, wrapping his long arm around the back of your seat to turn and look out the rearview window. That scent of warm bergamot and vanilla completely engulfed you as the space between the two of you was closed more than ever.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself and respond, "Uh - about 8 blocks that way. I live at the apartments off third."

He nods with understanding as he shifts gears and then proceeds to turn on the radio. The soft classical music made the silence of the short drive bearable.

As the car rolled to stop in front of your apartment building, you didn't expect Spencer to get out and open the door for you once again - but he did.

Almost simultaneously, you both reach towards the floor of the car to grab your backpack. You accidentally bump heads and find yourself nose to nose with your now not-so-annoying and kind-of-handsome teacher's assistant. For a moment, neither of you move or say a word. In fact, you try your best not to breathe too sharply. You lock eyes with Spencer and notice a fervor in his gaze that made your heartbeat begin to beat so hard that you swore that both of you could hear it.

Suddenly, he pulls away and stands parallel to the opened door. As you come out of the car and stand in front of him, he quickly states, "I'll email you... to set up our next session."

You can't ignore the tension and manage to crack a half smile in a failed attempt to break it.

"That sounds great. Thank you, again," you respond, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and stepping further onto the sidewalk.

Spencer's posture was like a stone wall and his sweet demeanor from earlier in your interactions suddenly formed back into that of a strict professional.

"You're welcome," was all he managed to spit out before abruptly closing the passenger side door and entering back into the car.

His sudden attitude shift was nerve-racking and even as he drove away, it left you dumbfounded standing beside your building's entryway. Was there something about being close to you that was truly that off putting? Self consciousness filled your mind as you considered the fact that maybe it was your breath or that you forgot to put on deodorant... but nothing seemed to make sense.

You tried your best to let it go as you walked the steps up to your apartment, but you found yourself growing more nervous for your next session than you were for your first - not because of academic stress, but because of the unpredictability and complexity of Dr. Spencer Reid.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

That Tuesday in class, Dr. Reid - Spencer - or whatever he wanted to be called at this point, avoided eye contact with you throughout the entire lecture. Even when he passed out a case vignette, he managed to dodge your gaze. It had been two days and obviously whatever it was that happened was still on his mind. He hadn't even emailed you about your next session yet and it was 10:00 am on the second day of the week - he's usually a Monday at 8:00 am kind of instructor. Shockingly, though, the remediation session concern was secondary in your mind to the fact that he seemed to actively attempt to evade you. Even after class, you went to speak with him at the lectern, but he seemed to rush out of the classroom with unorganized stacks of papers in his hand.

Fine, you thought. Office hours it is.

You didn't even bother to knock on his door before opening it swiftly. There he was behind a vintage wooden desk with a collection of papers skewed in front of him. He was studying them so intently it was almost as if he hadn't heard you enter at all, so you cleared your throat to get his attention.

When Spencer looked up and saw you, his eyes widened with surprise and what seemed to be a touch of anxiety. "Oh - y/n, hello. Wh-what can I do for you?" He shuffled the papers in front of him into a drawer quickly.

"Setting up our next session would be nice," you state matter-of-factly. He goes to open up his agenda as you continue. "And maybe an explanation to why you've been acting so strange with me."

His eyes dart up quickly and he adamantly protests, "I have no idea what you mean."

You place the heel of your palms on the edge of his desk and lean over closer towards him. "Well, you haven't emailed me -"

"I forgot."

"Forgot? Aren't you known for having an eidetic memory or something?" you respond in disbelief.

He has no rebuttal to that.

"You wouldn't look at me or even walk by me during lecture. And I had to chase you all the way to your office in order to speak to you at all," you say before flopping down onto the brown barrel chair across from his desk.

"I'm sorry," Spencer says, his head hanging low. "I've just had a lot on my mind... well, more than usual. Personal stuff. I should've been more accessible to you, I know that the remediation period is stressful enough already."

The apology and explanation seemed reasonable enough, so you dropped the subject and moved on to schedule your next meeting. Together, you agreed upon the meeting back in his office following day after your final lecture was over at 5:00 pm.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

5:00 pm rolled around and you found yourself alone in Spencer's office. He was always punctual without fail, but you didn't worry too much since he said he had a lot going on. You took the extra time to walk around the small area and look at all the little trinkets and decor he had set up. There were fossils, stacks of unfinished crosswords, and numerous books about a vast variety of subjects among so many other things.

You tried not to look at his desk, since you were certain there was confidential information about your peers, but your interest was piqued whenever you saw your name at the top of a piece of paper sticking out of the top left drawer. You quietly pulled it open a few more inches and fingered through the stack of paper. Each and every one read "y/l/n, y/n" somewhere on them. Your academic transcripts, your curriculum vitae, your personal statement, and multiple research papers were among the stack. You realized that the papers he had been studying so diligently yesterday were all of your documents. You were stunned and felt stuck in place, you didn't find it creepy but you did find it baffling.

Suddenly, the office door creaked and you practically jumped to sit down across from the desk. Spencer entered with a deep breath and walked past you to get to his seat, but his leg bumped into the still-open drawer on the way. You had to hold back from gasping and tried your best to regain your composure, acting as if you had seen nothing.

Spencer swiftly closed the drawer and walked back around towards you to sit on the edge of his desk. "I can explain," he said softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you claim.

"Y/n, I know you saw them," Spencer sighed, crossing one of his ankles on top of the opposite thigh.

You didn't know how to respond or if you even could with the growing knot in your throat. His eyes surprisingly looked upon you gently, not the sharp angry gaze you expected to see.

"I - I didn't mean to pry," you managed to blurt out, shame causing your body to radiate with heat. "I'm sorry."

A scoff left his lips, "I'm the one that should be sorry. I didn't mean to pry either, I just - had to know more."

"About me?" you inquired, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

Spencer threw his head back and inhaled deeply before responding, "Yes. I guess I thought that going this avenue would keep it more professional than... personal."

"Personal?" you spouted another question since your brain could hardly compute the situation.

"I really enjoyed meeting with you the other day and...I guess I just wanted to learn more about you outside of academics," Spencer mumbled.

"Like as a friend?" you asked, attempting to clarify his motivations.

His tone suddenly jumped with alarming certainty as he responded, "Yes, yes! Like friendship."

The tension that was previously between the two of you had shifted to an uncertain resolve, but it was settled enough to feel less on edge and continue the session. Despite feeling less tense, you had to admit you were slightly disappointed that he didn't seem to have felt the same shock to the system that you did when you were so close just a few days earlier. As you studied techniques, common personality types of offenders, and assessed your interview transcript, you attempted to forget that feeling you had experienced and accept Spencer's offer of friendship - but he kept getting in the way.

He would use his long fingers to scan down sentence by sentence and would frequently bite down softly on his bottom lip when considering how to word certain critiques. Strands of Spencer's hair would fall in front of his glasses and you were so tempted to tuck it back behind his ears like he always had it. About halfway through the session, he rolled up the sleeves of his light blue horizontal striped shirt up to his elbows. You never thought that the mere exposure of someone's forearms could make you speechless, but his soft skin and slightly protruding veins did you in.

As you struggled to concentrate, you started to notice the silence. Spencer hadn't gone on any tangents, in fact he seemed not to say much more than what he had to... and surprisingly, you kind of missed it.

Before you could even think about the words leaving your lips, they fell out. "Could you - tell me more?"

"About predictors of criminal behavior?" Spencer perked up at the suggestion, continuing without a prompt. "Well, one of the most well known indicators of future criminal behavior is a diagnosis of a disruptive behavior disorder at a young age or antisocial personality disorder in young adulthood..." As he rambled on, he reached for a large academic book before leaning closer towards you as he flipped through the pages. Spencer continued to switch between verbatim recitation of text and numerous statistics. You couldn't help but stare at him, completely taken by his excess of knowledge and the way that the most elaborative words rolled of his tongue like they were the most common lay terms.

Spencer closed the book tight and locked eyes with your obvious gaze of adoration and he smirked. "Was that what you wanted?"

"Mhm - I mean, yes. Thank you," you said quietly, trying to ignore the heat radiating beneath your skin.

"I think this may be a good stopping point for this session," Spencer states, rising to stand in front of where you were still seated. "I'll see you in class on Monday, and how about another meeting afterwards?"

"Back here?" you ask, with hope he'll say yes.

He nods in agreement, with a tone slightly more suggestive than you expected. "Yes, back here. If that's alright with you."

"More than alright, that sounds perfect," you say as you gather your belongings before standing up to where the bodies were nearly touching. The tension was back again, but it wasn't that of uncertainty - rather of expectation.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Much unlike the week before, the following Monday's lecture was filled with your eyes meeting more often than they should. That may be attributed to the fact that you purposefully chose to wear another outfit that you hoped would grab his attention, making sure to provide plenty of layers so his concern about your body temperature didn’t get in the way. You opted to wear a heavier top than before, specially the most cozy, drop shoulder, cream sweater. You had an extra layer of warm on top with a bulky faux fur lined jacket and your bottom half covered with dark tights and an addition layer of a neutral brown thigh high stockings to accompany your loafers. The skirt you had selected was what you were beating real money on, though: a deep brown houndstooth print mini skirt. On top of it all, you decided to test out your rarely-worn-but-desperately-needed prescription glasses with a thin gold wire frame.

You weren’t able to pinpoint which part caught his attention most, but every time that Spencer would turn to speak to your side of the class and catch a glimpse of you, he began to uncharacteristically fumble over his words. When you bit the tip of your pencil to contain your laughter, it seemed to make his reaction even more unhinged.

As your cohort members shuffled out of the room to head to their inevitable hours of reading, Spencer followed, presumably to prepare himself better than your last encounter… or at least hide whatever sensitive information he had lying about.

When you arrived at his office, you suspicions were confirmed. Spencer had speed organized what he could within his office and certainly made sure to shut and lock all his desk drawers. He was sitting in his office chair with his lanky legs propped up on the corner of the desk, openly flipping through your file which was propped up in his lap.

“I thought you said you could just ask,” you teased, swinging your book bag into the spare chair.

Spencer shrugged and provided a sarcastic response, “But this is so much easier! Y/l/n, y/n: full ride scholarship for your undergraduate education, numerous scholarships and research grants, and absolutely glowing letters of recommendation from some of the leading members in the field of psychology. Impressive.”

“Yeah, none of that seems like something a friend would be interested in knowing unless they were some secret job interviewer,” you roll your eyes and snatch the file from his hand before dropping it on his desk. “What kind of information are you even trying to find? Because unless it’s academic, this file won’t get you anywhere.”

“That’s not exactly true, there is a section on your extracurricular activities,” Spencer responded adamantly.

You flash him an expression of exasperation before bending over to grab your materials from your backpack. When you did so, you heard a faint hitch in Spencer's breathing. As you turned back around, he still hadn't closed his mouth from gaping slightly and his eyes were still focused on your body.

You didn't know what to say, so you just asked, "Are you alright?"

That broke his trance and he came to the other side of his desk and suddenly put his hand on your waist, closing the space between you for the first time. You couldn't help but look up at him with wide and confused eyes.

"I want to know everything about you, y/n - what your favorite color is and what makes you tick, what makes this interview so hard for you, what you wear to sleep at night, how you feel... how you taste..." Spencer spoke lowly, his voice trailing off at the end.

The warmth of his body against yours and the words that he said left you dumbfounded, barely able to mutter, "T-that's a lot more than a friend would know."

"I know," he sighed, before leaning down to whisper in your ear. "I lied."

Chills went down your neck and you felt a simultaneous sense of relief and need permeate your entire body. You were afraid he hadn't noticed you the way that you had him, but apparently you had been very wrong. "Why - why didn't you just say that?"

"I privilege myself on being controlled... professional, but I just can't stand it anymore - not while you look so good in that skirt and you keep staring at me during class... biting that pencil, god."

"You stared first," you insist, but you are cut off by his massive hand on the side of your face pulling you to a passionate kiss.

"Shut up," Spencer says, pulling away breathlessly.

You tug him back down to your level by his tie and press your lips against his with even more force. Spencer's lips are incredibly soft and as they eventually part to involve his tongue in your kiss, a small moan falls from them. That sound was like music to your ears, motivating skillful and calculated movements from both of you. You ran your fingers through his luscious brown waves and latched on firmly, tugging to emit another faint groan. With that, his hand moved from your waist and down to your ass, gripping it firmly and massaging it in his hands.

"I think we'll have to reschedule your study session," he mumbled breathlessly before hoisting you up onto the clear edge of the desk and planting wet kisses along your neck. "We'll be a little preoccupied today."

You whimpered softly at the intoxicating feeling of Spencer gently sucking on the most tender parts of you neck. "I-I agree, Dr. Reid."

He hums against your neck and it reverberates down your spine, making your entire body more sensitive and a well of warmth grow in between your legs.

"The first time you came into lecture, you were wearing a skirt almost as short as this w-with your hair pulled back and these perfect pink lips. I wanted to j-jump you right then," he said pulling away from you for a moment, causing you to groan in disappointment at the lack of his touch. "Then you came into the cafe and I could've looked at you for ages if you hadn't been shivering. God, then you opened your mouth and the more you talked the less I could concentrate..."

You had a feeling he'd continue to go on and on if you didn't stop him, so you cut him off. "So, that's why you were acting so odd when you dropped me off."

"I was afraid I'd kiss you when we both reached for your bag, and then I knew I had to drive away quickly or else I'd try to convince you to let me come upstairs."

"Maybe I would've let you," you purred in his ear before lightly bringing his earlobe between your teeth. "And what would we have done?"

"I - I...," for the first time since you've known him, he could barely form words. "I would have touched you."

"How?" you inquire, smirking against his skin as you loosened his tie.

Spencer slowly untucked your sweater from your skirt and ran his cool hands up along your torso and up to cup your tender breasts. As he felt them full in the palm of his hand, Spencer couldn't help but mutter a few curse words under his breath. "L-like this."

You continued to work his tie off and unbutton his shirt as he shut his eyes in pleasure. "And where would I have touched you?" you ask, running your hands down to open his shirt, revealing soft skin and slightly defined abs.

Spencer took his free hand to guide one of yours down to the bulge that his black dress pants were concealing.

"Here," a moan huffed from his mouth, followed by a desperate "yes".

Spencer's IQ of 187 had reverted back to a brain filled with nothing but desire and his body full of the same aching need as yours, which became apparent as he rushed to lock his office door before stripping your sweater off. All he could do was stare down at your chest, now scattered with goosebumps and barely contained by your bra. Spencer was able to unclasp it in a less than a second and as you slouched it off the sudden temperature shift caused your nipples to become hard. He looked between your face and your breasts for a few moments, mouth gaping in disbelief before he enveloped one with his hand and the other with his mouth. Spencer swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud and twirled the other between his thumb and index finger, looking up at you with contentment in his golden brown eyes. The wetness between your thighs grew and the throbbing of want became excruciating.

Before you could consciously gather the words, they escaped you, “I need you, Spencer.”

“God, say my name again. Please,” he begged, kissing your rib cage.

You worked down your skirt and tights, kicking off your shoes as you went, leaving you standing before him in nothing but a pair of cheeky black panties. “Please, Spencer. Touch me here.”

He brought you in for a forceful kiss before dropping to his knees and bringing two fingers to press against the outside of your underwear. When he brought them back away, they were glistening lightly.

“I’m going to do more than touch you,” he growls, hooking his fingers on either side of your panties and pulling them down in one stride. “I’m going to taste you.”

Pushing you back onto his desk, Spencer pried open your legs to reveal the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Your pussy was already slick with wetness and your clit was swollen with need. He had the perfect view of it, your tits, and every facial expression you would make. Throwing your legs around his shoulders, he licked a stripe up your slit causing your toes to curl. He lapped at it skillfully and placed kisses along the lips before wrapping them around your throbbing clit and sucking softly. You couldn’t help but grab onto the desk edge and wrap your other hand through his hair in an attempt to contain your cries. Spencer soon brought two of his fingers to join, pumping in and out of you as he put his focus on your bundle of nerves.

“S-Spencer, if you keep going like this I’ll cum,” you whimper desperately.

He shook his head while still putting in the work. “No, no, y/n. The only place you’ll be coming tonight is on my cock.”

That nearly sent you over the edge, but he pulled away just before you hit your peak. You whined at the loss of contact, but quickly sat up to help him undo his belt and strip him of his black slacks. His heather gray boxer briefs were tented in the middle, barely containing his erection. You caught yourself licking your lips as you reached to stroke it gently before tugging down his underwear. When he sprung up in all his fullness, an audible gasp slipped from your mouth. You had considered what he looked like shirtless and maybe the fleeting thought of him naked, but you had never thought about how big he might be. Despite this, you had to admit that you were pleasantly surprised. Spencer's cock was long and hit just above his navel and he was girthy enough you were nervous that he may not fit, but you sure wanted to give it a try.

"How do you want me, Dr. Reid?" you query, looking up at him with suggestive eyes.

A low rumble came from Spencer's throat and he wrapped his arm around you to flip you over his wooden desk. A large hand squeezed your ass before parting to expose your core.

"Mmm, so wet for me," he grinned, rubbing the tip in between your folds.

The feeling was euphoric already and he hadn't even entered you yet. There wasn't anything on your mind except the overwhelming need for him and the fact that every touch felt like electricity.

"Please, more," you cry softly, looking back at him desperately and spreading your legs wider.

"Fuck - of course, angel. Anything you want," Spencer said fervently, slipping a new nickname for you just as smoothly as he entered you.

Inch by inch your walls stretched for him in a painful bliss that had your hands intertwined with his and hushed moans of passion filling the air surrounding you. By the time he bottomed out, your eyes were tearful and he had reached the crest of your cervix. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, like someone was formed to fit into you perfectly and you never wanted him to leave. You both sat still for a moment, adjusting to the pressure, but Spencer gave the first stroke and you both crumbled.

The first few pumps were cautious, but they quickly devolved into uncontrolled sloppy thrusts. He threaded his lengthy fingers through your hair and lifted you up by it just enough that your head was off the desk. The rhythm he had taken on was perfect and the sensation of his thighs slapping against yours made it vibrate through your body. Uncharacteristic cuss words drabbled from his mouth and primal whimpers for more flowed from yours. He was hitting every spot just right, not slamming into your cervix but tapping it just enough that you felt it in your stomach.

"Rub your clit, angel," Spencer demanded. "I-I don't have enough hands, please. I want you to feel good."

"I feel more than good already, but -," you reached down between your legs and began to rub your clit in figure eights, causing your words to trail off into meaningless mumbles.

His pace became steady as he found a spot that he realized made your toes curl. The combination of the hair pulling, perfect placement, and clitoral stimulation you found yourself quickly back on the edge of a climax. Pressure built in your abdomen and your leg muscles began to tense up. Apparently, he felt it, too, as your walls contracted around him causing him to moan your name breathlessly.

"Spence, I - I'm going to cum," you whimper, your finger movements becoming more rapid.

"Y/n, I'm begging - please cum on my cock," Spencer cried, the sense of desperation in his voice real and adamant. "Please please please,"

His begs motivated your climax to roll through you, causing your fingertips to become soaked and your cum to coat his cock along with your wetness. "S-Spence, baby - I want your cum inside me."

He thrusted into you deeply and a guttural groan escaped him. "Fuck, angel. Are you sure?"

With what little strength you had left you nodded vehemently, "I-I'm on the pill, I never miss a day. Please, sir."

You believe the "sir" is what did him in, slamming into you only four more times before coming undone. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you and his cum filling you completely was one that admittedly made you feel feral and powerful. The noises that escaped him were irrepressible and the grip he had on your ass was as well. Even after he was finished, he held on tightly for a few seconds before slowly pulling out... but you still felt so full of him.

"You know," Spencer said. "I'm not really the make love and leave kind of guy."

"So is that what we did - make love?" you approach him and press a small teasing peck on his lips.

He smirks down at you, "You know that wasn't just some regular fuck."

"Mmm," you hummed. "Now, that is very true. So, what are you suggesting?"

"Would you want to come back to my place and... spend the night?" he suggests, a tone of shyness in his voice.

You don't even consider the alternative before agreeing and wrapping your arms around his neck for a long kiss.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"You know," Spencer starts, handing you a mug full of chamomile tea. "It's a real shame I won't get to grade your papers anymore. I always enjoyed reading your perspectives."

You sip on the cup and prop yourself up on a pillow. "Well, maybe if you're lucky I'll let you proofread them."

Spencer crawls in bed beside you, wrapping his arm around your upper body to pull you closer to him. "I think I might have figured out what was making you so nervous during your interview," he said.

"And what is that?" you inquire.

"Well, self-doubt for one. Even though, like I said before, you know the content like the back of your hand. But I think the main part was the fact that you were being observed."

"You think I'm afraid of Dr. Walters and you," you scoff, sitting the tea on the bedside table.

"Afraid isn't quite the word, intimidated maybe? I mean we don't appear to be the most approachable pair. Walters never shows emotion and is known for being a tough professor, and I'm -," he says before you cut him off.

"Obnoxiously intelligent with nearly three doctorate degrees?"

"Obnoxious?" He scoffs with a sarcastic tone. "Thanks for letting me know how you really feel."

You roll your eyes, "Yes, obnoxious. If you hadn't been so approachable during our first session I would have continued to think that you were a strict academic who didn't know how to let loose and have some fun."

"Ouch!" Spencer clutched at his heart. "Well, I sure proved you wrong today."

"That you did, Spence," you kiss his cheek. "And fine, maybe you're right - most of my nerves were probably tied to the fact that I was intimidated by your very serious demeanors."

"I like it when you call me that." You were surprised he had seemed to ignore the other half of your statement.

"What? Spence?" you ask, cuddling close to his chest.

"Yes," he responds, and you hear his heart skip a beat. "I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

"No one has ever called me angel before either," you say, drawing a line down the valley of his chest.

"Well, I think you'll do wonderfully on your remediation interview, angel," Spencer states, bringing your hand up to place a kiss upon it.

You snuggle closer, engulfed in his warmth and the scent of spiced vanilla. "I think so, too. I'm way more comfortable with the content... and my assessors."

please feel free to request! (or let me know what you think!)

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Shang Tsung x Reader: A Chance To Prove Yourself

~~~~~~~~~~~~ The leaves all swooshed on the tree they were bound to in reaction to the wind. The same tree you sat under, sulking as you usually did. A decent distance away from the Wu Shi Academy you used to be devoted. Now it made you sick in a way. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you pointed blame at the Thunder God that shut you down.

You remember all too well the secondhand embarrassment and devastation when Raiden bluntly turned you down from joining Earthrealm's champions. Right in front of your best friends, Kung Lao and Liu Kang. The demigod claimed you weren't skillful enough and your ego would get you killed in battle. Yet somehow Lao still gets to go?! The equally arrogant bastard was also confused on that part.

"Maybe Lord Raiden just wants to protect you." You recalled Liu Kang reasoning for his father figure. Bullshit. You may have started late but you train just as hard.

Ever since that situation happened, you became distant with those two. You didn't hold any resent for them, hopefully, but being around them after that made you feel negative. They're good friends and you didn't want to bring the mood down.

Dreading on about everything you were unaware of someone creeping up behind the tree.

"...And she sits alone, wondering if she will ever be good enough. Or perhaps wallowing in self-pity, believing all of them are wrong and don't deserve her strength."

You turned to whoever it was narrating you with a supercilious tone. Opening your mouth with the intent to tell them to shut the hell up, only a gasp would come out when that specific voice belonged to Shang Tsung. You knew Liu defeated him before, but it was definitely not so simple You hopped up ready for a fight with the old, evil coot.

He raises a steady hand as if he isn't looking for a fight. "Oh, so 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 going to defeat me? Do you think you'll win?" Shang asks with continuing patronization.

"No." You lost your battle stance and stood there normally, feeling stupid to even think that. Your ego couldn't be more destroyed so it's easy to be put in your place.

"Good girl. Smart." Shang chuckles and slowly walks to you. You only kept your head down. Carefully with his clawed finger guard, he tilts your chin up. "Poor Y/n. You have so much potential. Truly a loss for Earthrealm that Raiden doesn't let you fight beside him- or your close allies."

"What would you know?" You sneered, eyes following him as he walked behind but you didn't dare move your head even slightly.

"Quite a lot, actually. From the very moment he put you down, up to your friends deserting you."

"Deserting me?" Confused, you faced him and immediately corrected him. "Liu and Lao never deserted me. I just... hang out with them less. Purposely."

The old villain narrowed his maroon eyes at your rebuttal. "And have they ever asked you why? Check on you like they're supposed to? Have they ever even stood up to the foolish demigod and defended your progress?"

Being completely gagged, you couldn't defend that. The answer to those questions were all the same. "...No."

"You call them friends?" Shang shakes his head. "How does that make you feel? Don't you want to prove yourself? Show off truly what you're capable of?"

"Of course, I do!" You snap- not out of anger- but with newfound motivation. "But I train a lot every day. What more can I do?"

He pretends to think on it, you hardly notice. "I could offer my own mentoring to you, if you wish. Help you be advanced than whatever cheap combat monks do." Plotting with his back turned from you, his eyes gleamed at an extra part of the offer. Something you'd likely be interested in. "Say, do you have your own arcana?"

"I don't actually. Why?" As expected, you became more interested. You couldn't shoot fireballs or teleport annoyingly around the perimeter. But what you could do is deny the snake's offer and be a boring rejected fighter. Nope. "Could you get me one?"

"Easily." He nods, then extends his hand. "Is it a deal?"

Almost taking his hand, you retracted a bit. "Wait, what would you be getting out of it? I don't want to be accused of treason or you make me hurt them. They're not perfect but-"

"Oh dear, I would never make you hurt them. I'm trying to help you do the opposite actually. How lovely it would be to make them proud by being just as- pardon me- more powerful than them combine! And you wouldn't get in trouble unless you go chatting which I trust you wouldn't."

It all seems easy and promising. "Deal!" You smile and shook his hand, suddenly getting the feel of something awful overwhelm you. But you pushed it off thinking it was just excitement.

"Now why don't we return to my palace and discuss giving you magic." Shang begins walking away and you were quick to follow your new mentor.

"How long will that take? Won't Liu Kang or Kung Lao notice I'm missing?"

"You think so?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I realise you're HE, but any thoughts on how high school level education should be run/changed/etc? I'd love to know your views!

Oh sure, plenty, but they're not particularly informed lol

Well; Wales is actually massively and fundamentally changing secondary education atm, but we won't be getting students from it until the year after next, I think, so no real comment on effectiveness yet - but it's very interesting. They're getting rid of isolated subjects in favour of broad umbrella areas, as I understand it? So there's now Science and Technology (Physics, Biology, Chemistry, Computing, and all the various DT subjects like Woodwork, Electronics, Cookery, etc), Maths and Numeracy, Humanities (History, Geography, Ethics, Religion), Languages Literacy and Communication, and Health and Wellbeing (actually maybe Cookery comes under this one now? Dunno.) And there's a sixth to do with arts but I can't remember what it's called. But it includes Art, Drama, Media Studies, etc.

And then the idea is that a class will learn about a given topic at a time (I don't know for how long, so let's say six weeks), and this will be taught in each of those six umbrellas but via their own methods. So like... I dunno, let's say the Tudors:

That's fairly straightforward for Humanities, but in addition to giving you the historical facts you'd also explore historic trade routes and natural resources of the time and how they related to the politics (geography), the religious make up of the country and how THAT related to the politics (religion), etc.

Maths and Numeracy might explore how to use statistics to analyse Tudor era population or trade data.

Science and Tech could look at disease outbreaks and virology, or technological advancements and how they worked and get students to build one, or get students to construct a Tudor-era town using computer software

Languages can study plays from the era (Shakespeare), look at linguistic development, or use historical events as talking points to practice using vocab in conversations

Health and Wellbeing can explore stressors and challenges of the average Medieval peasant and how they overcame them, or play some popular Tudor sport or game, or make food to Tudor recipes, etc

The Arts one (god I cannot remember the name) can look at art history of the period, fashions, perform plays, etc

So everyone is still teaching the skills and knowledge of their subject areas, they're just united by one big case study. It apparently allows for far more integrated teaching, too, where two previously discrete subjects can join forces on a project.

All of which seems pretty good, on the whole, but also rife with issues if everyone isn't careful, so we'll see how it shakes out over the next few years.

From my own experiences of school though. Jesus. Something definitely needed to happen, fuck me.

What I should have learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine

How to sew by hand to mend a tear

How to darn a hole

How to hem, dart, take in, and let out clothes

How to sew from a pattern

What I actually learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine on its most basic setting

How to phone in creating a hand puppet out of felt because gluing was easier than sewing

How to badly sew an extremely makeshift and shit bag out of scrap fabric that you in no way want to then use

How to lose all interest in Textiles because it was useless and uninteresting

Like that is a VITAL skillset-imparting subject, and they fucked it, lads, they completely fucked it. Why did they never set us the task of buying a cheap shirt from a charity shop that we then amended in class? That would have been so useful.

Games and PE! Fucking hell! Here's what I should have learned:

How to stretch my body safely to target specific muscle groups, and in particular, how to cultivate a daily stretching routine I enjoyed and wanted to do

How to find a physical activity active enough to get me out of breath that I genuinely enjoyed, so that I wanted to continue it, e.g. salsa dancing or rope climbing or ice skating or hill climbing or assault courses or fucking anything at all

How to build my body up to doing particular activities safely and sustainably

How to find a physical activity to do on wet, cold, rainy days that would still be fun and I would still enjoy

Here's what I actually learned:

Physical activity is always uncomfortable and miserable and sometimes even painful

If you aren't enjoying running around in the wind and rain instead of the indoor gym The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

Wanting to stay warm and dry and comfortable is a punishable choice.

You are only permitted to do physical activity in clothes that make you feel profoundly exposed and uncomfortable (a gym skirt and gym knickers in my school. Cycling shorts got you detention. Don't get me started on jogging bottoms.) Again, if you do not enjoy this, The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

There are only three activity options. If you don't enjoy any of them, physical activity is not for you.

You should be able to Just Do physical exercise, without any training to build you up to it. If you can't and it hurts, this is because you're Bad At PE.

You will only be shown Once

Physical activity is only ever a team sport that you aren't good enough to be willingly picked for

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

And you know what, LET'S round off with Food Technology/Cookery. Because I remember the things I was asked to make in FT. As a little baby Year 7, I still vividly remember two of the things we made.

Angel Delight. Easy, you might say! A simple treat, you might think! Easing the children into food prep, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was healthy eating, and so we were to add fruit to our Angel Delight. Any flavour Angel Delight, any fruit. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have encountered fruit, Tumblrs, but it famously has faintly acidic juice. This will prevent the Angel Delight from setting within the one hour lesson, no matter how well you mixed the pudding, or how quickly you got it into the fridge. It will result in soggy gross lumps of oxidising fruit in sloppy liquid pudding. Lesson learned: fruit makes food worse.

Cake. Easyish, you might say! A little harder than the Angel Delight but good training, you might think! A fairly straightforward process with a child-friendly food at the end, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was still healthy eating, so the teachers made it into an experiment; make four small cakes. One with sugar, one with sweetener, one with apple, and one with carrot. Then taste them and rank them in order. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have ever tried eating sugarless carrot cake, Tumblrs, but I have, and I can tell you categorically that it really puts the "Did you know" into the phrase "Did you know that fructose and sucrose are not actually equivalents of each other in a culinary setting?" It was rancid. It was disgusting. It was vile. It made me hate carrot cake for the next 12 years, in case my mouth had to go through that ordeal again. I'm still highly suspicious of the stuff even now. To (I assume) the surprise of fuck-damned no one, we unanimously put them in the order of sugar, sweetener, apple, carrot. Lesson learned: FRUIT MAKES FOOD WORSE AND CARROTS ARE ACTIVELY DISGUSTING

What possessed them?! No idea. Fucking hell.

Anyway this is getting long and I am still ill-informed. Peace out.

[cenorii]

RE headcanons!

PART 1 (if you like it I'll make a sequel with other characters. I was just bored)

My serious headcanons about some RE characters. Some I'll write about more than others because I thought about them more often, I apologize in advance.

Chris Redfield

— his favorite color is green, he enjoys this color and adds it to any set of clothes, even his military gear. He doesn't care if shades of green may not match at all in the same outfit, he just wears that color because he loves it.

— his favorite genre of music in the early years, judging by his daring clothes, guitar and references to «Queen», was heavy metal and pop-rock. Nowadays, many years later, he probably likes the laid-back tunes of «Roxette» and «Savage» because Chris' life has become hectic and he needs an island of peace.

— he smokes, but he's not a heavy smoker. In his youth, Chris smoked a lot and often, judging by his concept art. Now, however, he smokes to get in the right frame of mind and pace, to focus and calm down.

— After the amnesia episode, Chris stopped drinking and now only drinks on holidays. Drinking has become disgusting to him, it reminds him of his episode of weakness.

— Chris prefers his natural scent, doesn't use any special perfume on himself because he washes with regular soap.

— he's a latent gay man, but he's never been in a relationship. Chris seriously doesn't understand why he isn't attracted to women. The last thing he thinks about is his real orientation. He's silly.

— he likes Wesker more than Chris is willing to admit. Since he doesn't realize what kind of attraction it is, Chris doesn't guess his crush. He's too inexperienced in love affairs to realize it. Especially when it comes to Wesker, who he has a ton of emotions associated with, a lot of which are negative.

— Chris has some guitar skills, but after 1998, he barely remembers it. He can't sing, he's just an amateur at it.

— he doesn't know how to cook, ordering takeaways. Chris doesn't like junk food, having given up his attempts to learn how to cook and not even opening the cookbook Claire gave him.

— Chris never has enough time to shave his face or cut his hair. But that doesn't bother him.

— he had a low grade in school, Chris liked fun more than textbooks.

Wesker

— his favorite color is blue, but Wesker doesn't like others to know too much about it, so he adds this color to his clothes very carefully. Blue color in his clothes has never been the main color, it is only an accent.

— Wesker doesn't usually listen to music, he prefers silence, but if he had to choose, he would settle for Frank Sinatra songs. He can only listen to something that won't throw him off his thoughts.

— Wesker doesn't smoke or drink. Spencer dreamed of creating an ideal society, so he raised the Weskers as ideal people. Such people should not drink and smoke. These people should only spend time on self-development and so on.

— he doesn't swear. Wesker doesn't like and/or know how to swear because of his «proper» upbringing. He will never insult a person with a rude word, but will pick up the most innocuous one, even if he is very angry. Who shouts «self-righteous fools» or «ignorant cretins» in anger? Only the child or Wesker, because in his situation I'd be yelling «assholes», «fucking bastards» and so on. He's polite and well-mannered, just like Spencer wanted.

— he has a good sense of humor. Wesker doesn't seem like a joker because his jokes are very subtle and infrequent. He says «I have a date to keep» and then goes and destroys the Red Queen with the phrase «goodbye, fair lady», isn't he the most serious joker in fandom after that?

— Wesker is pansexual, but he doesn't care about relationships and so he, like Chris, is not even aware of his preference. He doesn't pay attention to it, so his involvement with Ms. Muller or his sudden obsession with Chris doesn't give him any reason to wonder what his orientation is. He doesn't care.

— he's in love with Chris, but he sees those feelings as a manifestation of his pride in him.

— his bathroom shelf is filled with various self-care products, and he is very worried about his appearance. First, the smell of his perfume enters the room, and then Wesker enters.

— Ms. Muller was not just a «one-night stand» for him, there was a warm relationship between them, because she remained in good opinion of him and even kept the child. This is a side of Wesker that is unknown to the players, because he had no opportunity or chance to show it. I think they broke up because Wesker was getting too attached to this woman and she was becoming his weakness, and he «can't have weaknesses». His job may have also interfered with the relationship, causing Muller to make her own decision to get out of his way, keeping the good memories alive. Wesker, on the other hand, tried to forget about that pleasant time with her so it wouldn't interfere with him.

— he is not ashamed to recognize someone else's merits and praise another person. He appreciates people who are good at something, he is sincere about it.

— Wesker is not a villain and an antagonist, he is the anti-villain. He has all the personality traits that fit that definition. He is not the pure evil that many believe him to be due to their inattention.

— he can cook, and he does it well. Wesker is known for being great at everything and cooking is no exception. Back in the days of S.T.A.R.S., he took care of his healthy diet, but once he gained power and became a bioterrorist, he stopped cooking for himself, preferring to order food from restaurants or have a personal chef. Because of the virus, he doesn't need to eat as often as normal people, so he really enjoys the process, since it rarely happens.

— because of his principles or Spencer's upbringing, Wesker can't directly harm a child. Children have never been a target for him, and he considers it beneath his dignity.

— his name is a mononym. Wesker doesn't call himself Albert and doesn't like it when others do (but doesn't stop them out of politeness). He is Wesker to everyone and to himself. However, there is a contradiction here — he hates the word «Wesker» and this whole project. Surely he must have considered changing his name if he had achieved the evolution of humanity. He still uses his initials AW when necessary.

Leon S Kennedy

— Leon has no color preference, he wears whatever clothes he feels comfortable in. He doesn't care if the colors don't match.

— he loves children and is easy to get along with.

— he uses feminine shower gels and likes sweet scents.

— likes to drink to relax or for any other reason. But he doesn't smoke.

— the music that Leon likes is very hard to define. He is probably a music lover who listens to whatever he likes.

— Leon isn't shy about swearing. He likes to make silly jokes to lighten the mood.

— He knows how to cook, but not very well, but these skills are enough for him. Leon can make toast or fry eggs, but it would be difficult for him to cook something more complicated, so he often watches tutorials on the Internet or eats fast food.

— Leon is bisexual and he knows it. He's crazy about Ada Wong, but he tries to hide it, which is unsuccessful.

— he likes karaoke.

— it annoyed him that if he showed up in any kind of transportation, there was a high probability of an accident or something. He sometimes wondered if he was a loser.

— he had a girlfriend once, but the affair was so casual that it broke up after almost a month.

— In school he had average grades, Leon could not be called a bad student, but he was not an excellent student either.

Ada Wong

— her favorite color is not only red, but also black.

— she loves elegant clothes and doesn't care if they don't fit her work. Despite the design, Ada chooses only clothes in which she can move freely.

— only Wesker knows her real name, and her name «Ada Wong» is just a rehash of «AW» (Albert Wesker).

— I like to think that she and Wesker could have acted like best friends, but voluntarily opted out for personal reasons.

— Ada pretends not to like music, but she actually likes «Marina and the Diamonds». She listens to these songs alone, in a deserted place.

— she smoked once, but she quit. She doesn't drink.

— Ada doesn't have any holidays, she doesn't even celebrate her own birthday.

— she's straight, and she's openly attracted to Leon.

— loves subtle scents in perfume, she always smells nice, but this scent is barely perceptible.

— Ada can't cook and hasn't tried to learn. She eats food from cafes and prefers to go there herself instead of having it delivered.

— She has no problem with foreign languages, she probably knows a few besides English.

— she was an honors student in school and she's easy to learn new things.

— Ada is an anti-hero.

Alex Wesker

— Alex's favorite color is white. It is the color of sterility and truth that she strives for in her research.

— I guess her full name is Alexandra.

— loves getting her nails done to cheer herself up. Due to illness and failed experiments, she is always in a bad mood, so taking care of herself helps her keep her head cool and rational.

— Alex loved her own short hair, which she had in the past, but it reminded her too much of Albert, whom she respected. Because of what she knew about «Project W» and the truth about them, Alex felt a kind of guilt for keeping her brother in the dark and lying. So she changed her image so she wouldn't think about it.

— she's a lesbian.

— Alex knows Russian.

— she must have a secret altar in her house dedicated to Albert.

— she respects Albert so much that she even tries to think and act like him. It is forbidden to insult her brother in her presence, even though they have hardly ever met and are not related.

— Alex did grieve when she learned of her brother's death in the volcano. But when she learned of his death in 1998, she was not sad, because she had not yet had time to get to know him so well and get into his personality.

— the clothes Alex wears are formal and office style. She doesn't like to wear something informal because she feels insecure in it.

— the mole under her eye is painted, or appeared there with age.

— Alex likes only classical music, her ear cannot perceive anything from modern genres.

— Has never thought about relationships, but can admit if she likes someone.

— Alex's only humor is black.

— often communicates with quotes from books, like someone quotes from songs. This helps her to express her thoughts properly and emphasize them.

— she's a lot harder to piss off than Albert.

[crxshed-skxlls]

Hello there, I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to do something with Bloody Painter for me.

Thank you in advance.

Oo I'll gladly be willing. No worries, your sins are my command 🙏

— ❝ 15 Bloody Painter x Gn!Reader headcanons

NSFW tags: Mention of mirror sex, Exhibitionism, breath play, Blood play, S&M elements, aftercare headcanons, breeding, mentions of "pussy/ass drunk"

Viewer discretion is advised, as always.

NSFW headcanons:

Bloody Painter (or Helen) is a switch. He isn't too use to the idea of sex, but he prefers to dominate in situations. Helen only bottoms maybe once or twice of you catch him off guard.

Speaking of bottoming -- you may have to show him how to properly be intimate with you your first couple tries. After he gets the hang of it, you two should be on your merry ways.

Helen totally has a blood kink. He would find it arousing to see you covered with dark crimson, whether it be from your own or from his blood paints.

Helen isn't really a noisy person when it comes to sex. He'll let out a couple now and then, but he usually let's out breathy sounds and grunts.

Helen likes to tease you sometimes with the areas he picks for sex. He loves to fuck you in front of a mirror just to mumble how pretty you look in the reflection. His blue eyes wandering the spectacle like a marvelous work of art.

Helen likes to be choked. Whether you top him or not, the buzzed feeling to his head always gives him pleasure. He doesn't mind giving it either, his strong grip to your throat as he watches you let out choked moans is pure pleasure.

Helen isnt much of a talker during sex. He'll give a couple bits and pieces of dialogue, but sometimes he's just too focused on giving you pleasure to think of words.

Compared to the other creeps, Helen is actually pretty vanilla amongst them. He doesn't exactly like bondage, and definitely not voyuerism -- but he can have his experimental moments.

Helen is a sadomasochist. You can't win when it comes to pain with this painter. He wouldn't mind inflicting pain on you anyways, listening to your beautiful voice.

Helen has a breeding kink. He loves to babble on as he thrusts into you about how beautiful your children would look, and you had to admit sometimes it makes you blush more than ever.

Because of how unused he is to sexual intimacy (hes often busy with his "work"), Helen is incredibly sensitive. Hell, if you put in enough work you could get Helen pussy/ass drunk. His blue eyes flickering as you ride his cock, his breathy moans leaving him shaky.

Aftercare Headcanons:

Helen is incredibly good at making you feel comfortable after sex. Whether it be just cuddling you or giving you a tender bath, he is just skilled at letting your body untense and wind down.

Helen loves setting up intimate bubble baths with you when he can. He definitely spoils you after such intimate moments.

Helen appreciates any praise or compliments after sex. He loves listening to you mumble praises as you both cuddle together.

When you end up drifting off to sleep after a long session, Helen loves to tuck you in and make sure your okay if he ever needs to leave. He usually presses soft kisses on your head, mumbling a goodbye as he reluctantly slips out of bed.