#some of you were quite specific on how too

[hannieehaee]

ENDLESSLY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: despite not having a large audience, jungkook's camboy career prevailed with the hopes that someday he'd make enough money to finally leave his dead-end job. what happens when one of his admirers offers to make that dream come true?

content: camboy!jungkook x trustfundbaby!reader, jungkook is shy, jungkook is a faceless camboy with a very small audience, reader is younger than jk, kind of pathetic!jungkook, reader is rich and very confident, slowburn (kind of), afab reader, smut, camming, masturbation (m receiving), oral (f receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 2126 (teaser); 12.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: june 28th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this took me forever to finish lol i hope its any good at all</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Well, that's it for today guys, thanks for watching."

With an awkward chuckle, Jungkook reached out to his computer screen and shut the laptop closed, groaning just as he stopped being out of earshot.

233 viewers.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Jungkook the hope that maybe someday he'd be able to find pride in the number. Maybe his streams would blow up in views overnight one of these days – the hope prevailed. It had been a month since he hit the 200's, now garnering an average of 250 viewers per stream.

It was quite embarrassing to him sometimes. There were instances in which he'd finish a stream and regain full consciousness of his actions, becoming embarrassed at the knowledge of strangers watching him cum — of them hearing his voice and his whimpers as he played it up for their entertainment — and of him not even being able to make a living out of it.

He had to stay creative, sometimes finding scripts online that he'd read out to his viewers while he jerked off, playing the role of a subby coworker or a dominant childhood friend in order to keep his audience engaged (and maybe incite one or two to send money his way). Other times, he'd simply ramble about his life (but never get too specific) whilst he let himself lose control on camera.

Jungkook never once showed his face, only ever giving people glimpses at the tattoos decorating his arm and of his cock as it stood against his abs. The most he'd ever shown had been a small view of his lips before the camera's frame cut off.

He liked it this way.

In reality, he was too shy to ever be outspoken about doing such a thing, which was why no one in his life knew about it. He didn't judge anyone who enjoyed camming, but he was simply too self-conscious to do such a thing. Despite being aware of how handsome people thought him to be, he had never been too forward when it came to sex, much less this.

This had all started a little over a year ago, when he'd come across a few cammers on Twitter late into the night. Going on their accounts out of sheer curiosity, he realized that they each had a large following, not only on Twitter, but also on camming websites. Some of them even had their Patreons and PayPal accounts linked to their accounts, amassing even more revenue from these third party websites on top of their income from the camming sites. This was what mainly caught his attention.

Part of him felt bad about being on it solely for the money, but he was beyond desperate. And so he held the false hope that he'd somehow have the same luck as them and create an income out of this.

As someone who had only recently graduated university, having found no luck in his field, Jungkook had to resort to applying to jobs he felt were below his level of expertise. Having no connections in his field and no call-backs from employers, he found himself working a part time at a gas station accompanied by a part time at a grocery store. Both jobs were miserable to him.

The jobs themselves were not horrible, but attempting to manage both schedules and both sets of responsibilities was slowly weighing down on him. His coworkers were also not the best to be around. And did he mention the commute to each establishment? That part ate up at his days drastically, leaving him with almost no time for rest.

Jungkook knew that he should've given up on camming a long time ago. Hell, he'd made a grand total of $876 dollars in the past year he'd been at it. That would be a laughable amount to all the cammers that had inspired him into taking such a profession. But he didn't have any other prospects. Even as he worked his two jobs and cammed, he continued to search for more fulfilling (and better paying) employment, but was unable to ever even get any callbacks.

And so now he found himself doing about three streams per week, getting more and more discouraged each time he'd end a stream with the same low number of viewers.

With yet another sigh, Jungkook got up to go clean himself up, lethargic in his movements due to both the physical and mental exhaustion of having worked all day, only to come back home for a lowly appreciated stream.

Coming back from a much needed hot shower, he did his usual skin care before heading back to bed, where he had been recording just now. For a moment he pondered whether he should go to sleep now in order to get ready for work early next morning or to indulge in watching some anime as a reward for the tiring day.

Going for the latter, he opened his computer back up, sighing again when he remembered he hadn't closed the tab in which he'd been camming.

But before he could actually tap out of it, something caught his attention, making his eyes widen more than he thought possible.

burner98 donated $1,000

This must've been some sort of mistake. Right? Maybe they mistyped? No one in their right mind would donate such an amount to a faceless cammer ranking up to less than a thousand weekly views.

All his prior donations had been in the lower numbers, usually only ever amounting up to $20. Never had he ever gotten someone to donate anything in the triple digits, much less going into the quadruples.

The name of the donor also caught his attention. Babystarcandy. It was a frequent watcher who had been in attendance to every single stream of his starting a few months back — which was when they'd first made an appearance in his audience.

He had never noticed this viewer in particular, though they were one of the only people to ever grant him donations. They'd usually donate whilst he was off stream, which he found slightly strange but never questioned. Checking through his donation history, he saw this name listed three times prior, with donations of $5, $15 and $20 respectively. They'd happened throughout the months, with no pattern in particular. It made no sense for them to donate such a high amount to Jungkook out of nowhere, especially not while he wasn't actively on stream.

With a heavy heart and half a mind to simply keep the money, he decided to message the donor to inform them of their mistake and follow through with a refund.

So much for his anime binge before bed.

babystarcandy - Hey, burner98. Thank you so much for the kind donation, but I think you made a mistake. I'll refund you.

He decided to go with something kind of formal. After all, he'd never spoken to this person before.

Surprisingly, the response came within minutes. Being three in the morning, he assumed you'd wait til the following day to reply, but maybe you were in a different time zone.

burner98 - omg hiii !! did i make a mistake ?? im sorry !! i meant to send 1k. did it not go through correctly ?

Had that not been an accident? One thousand dollars?

This made no sense. Why would you send him such a large amount out of nowhere? That was more than he'd made in the entire past year. Hell, that was half his rent.

Jungkook had no idea how to respond to you.

As much as he wanted to accept it, it felt like robbing you of a fortune.

babystarcandy - Gosh, hi! No, the thousand came through, it's just ... Are you sure this is correct? This is a lot of money ... I'd feel terrible taking so much from you

Once again, you responded almost immediately.

burner98 - haha ur so cute

burner98 donated $2,000

burner98 - is that better ? ;)

Holy fucking shit.

Jungkook's hands were shaking at this point. His eyes couldn't believe what was right in front of him.

Quickly, he took out his phone to check his baking app, checking to see if the deposits were legitimate. Upon opening it, he found that his balance had in fact gone up $3,000. This was far more money than he'd ever had in his bank account.

He stared blankly at it for a few moments without so much as breathing. A reminder to snap out of his trance arrived in the form of another chime coming from his computer — a new message from you.

burner98 - did i scare u off :((

burner98 - just wanna help u out :(((

Immediately, he rushed to respond, not even thinking before typing anymore.

babystarcandy - no! not at all! this is just so much money. i dont want you getting yourself into financial trouble for me

Within seconds, you responded.

burner98 - haha it's okay i can afford it dont worry <3

He furrowed his brows worriedly, typing up yet another message.

babystarcandy - i really dont mean to sound ungrateful, but why ? it's so much money ... this is life-altering type of money for me (as made up as that may sound) my content isn't even that good. why are you giving me this?

He knew he was shooting himself in the foot by questioning it so much and not simply accepting it, but he'd learned through his life that good things don't just come out of nowhere. He needed more details. At least for his peace of mind.

burner98 - i adoooore ur content. u've helped me so much u have noooo idea !!! u deserve it !! u mentioned in ur live a week ago u were struggling with money, so ofc id wanna help u out pretty <3

Fuck. You actually liked his content? His content was worth $3,000 to you?

Jungkook was almost sure he had accidentally fallen asleep before he even opened his computer. Pinching himself a few times proved for this to be actually real.

babystarcandy - thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me.

babystarcandy - there has to be some way i can repay you.

Was he propositioning himself to you?

Not even Jungkook was sure. He had no idea what he was offering to you, but it was the middle of the night and he was extremely grateful. He couldn't help himself as he typed up that message and sent it.

burner98 - oh ? what would u suggest ?

Oh, fuck. You were agreeing. Okay ... Now what? Jungkook had nothing to offer. He was an amateur cammer with nothing to his name. What could some random person on the internet with tons of disposable income possibly want from him?

babystarcandy - maybe i could give you a call to thank you ? you know, one on one ?

He mentally kicked himself as soon as he sent that message.

What the hell was he thinking, offering up a personal call to some random person online? This could be a friendless creep for all he knew. He had no identifying information about you, other than knowing you apparently had a vast disposable income. I mean, hell, your account name was burner98, you clearly did not want to leave any traceable information about you.

Before he could backtrack (not that he would actually have the balls to), the three dots on your side of the conversation popped up, followed by another message from you.

burner98 - really ??? :00 that'd be amazing omg ... are you free tomorrow ? i'll make it worth your while <3

Staring at the $3,000 sitting cozy on his bank account, he didn't even let himself think before agreeing, sending a quick message in confirmation. He had work tomorrow, but maybe calling off would be worth it considering you were hinting at even more money.

Jungkook felt dirty for some reason, despite knowing what camming truly entailed. However, he also knew that there was nothing morally wrong with what he was doing, so he pushed that shyness to the back of his mind and began drafting up some sort of goodbye message that encapsulated your plans to call tomorrow and a few more thank you's for your donations.

burner98 donated $5,000

burner98 - just a little thank u for ur kindness ;) see u tomorrow baby ~

Jungkook had to swallow the gasp that was about to leave his body. Five thousand dollars??

You'd managed to drop eight thousand dollars on him within an hour's time. This was four months of his rent. Jungkook had never had this much money lying in his bank account. Its mere presence was making him nervous.

Not only that, but the thought of talking to someone who had this much money to give without a second thought scared him shitless.

There was no way he'd sleep tonight.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So...I was wondering if you had a post on information concerning Ace's older brother? Purely for research purposes of course...😅

Ask, and you shall receive!

This is a compilation of all the canon information I could find on Ace’s older brother. He has yet to be named, so 😅 errrr… I'll be referring to him as “Anippola" (as in “Trappola aniki”) in this post.

Anippola is older than Ace by 7 years.

According to Ace, his brother was even more excited about Ace getting into NRC than their parents were.

Before Ace was accepted into NRC, his older brother would take him along with him to various places.

He is an alumnus of NRC and was previously in Heartslabyul dorm; this is why Ace is not surprised when he, too, is sorted into Heartslabyul.

Ace talks with his older brother over the phone. Sometimes they talk late into the night, which occasionally makes Ace late in the mornings.

He “built up a whole repertoire of magic tricks” from his days as a NRC student. Ace learned them by playing watching, memorizing, and then finally replicating those magic tricks, since Anippola refused to tell him how to do them. It is through these kinds of experiences that Ace has become quite adaptable.

He learned some sleight of hand tricks from their magicless father too.

Whenever the Trappola men are together, they will challenge each other to pull off various tricks.

Ace reports that his older brother told him "the most convincing lies are sprinkled with a dash of the truth". This implies that Ace may have learned how to lie so cleverly from Anippola, or at the very least was inspired by his advice.

Ace's brother bought a luxury watch with his first paycheck. He framed it as though it was Ace's birthday gift, but then revealed the item was actually for himself and gave Ace an empty box instead.

Anippola later apologized and gave Ace a box of candy, which annoyed his little brother (because Ace says he's not a little kid, of course he wouldn't be happy about receiving candy!)

Another time, Anippola purposefully snuffed out the candles on Ace's birthday cake. This resulted in a fight between the brothers.

From these stories, we can deduce that Anippola s a prankster.

He did his 4th year NRC internship at a theme park management company designing shows and attractions. (The dialogue could also be interpreted as generally working in the entertainment industry, not specifically for the theme park company.) Anippola currently works for that same place.

There is supposedly a picture of Ace's brother hung up in the hallway by the teacher's lounge. The photo is from when Anippola led the card solider parade for a Magical Shift/Spelldrive opening ceremony.

Ace says his brother is not the type to make sweets for him.

Anippola wasn't all too interested in dorm life.

He told Ace about various ways to kill time at his dorm.

Ace describes Anippola as someone who is light-hearted, casual, and easy to get along with.

Ace also admits that it can be advantageous to have an older brother, as they are an example to follow and could support him in that way. He specifically mentions school life and job hunting as examples.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕬 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗

Clapton Davis x gender neutral reader

Summary: You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. What you couldn’t have predicted was that a dare from a simple game would give you a unique chance with the person you’ve had a crush on for too long.

Warnings: pure fluff. No pronouns used towards reader. Reader is a shy nerd. OC male character. Truth or dare. Confession. Kissing.

Words count: almost 3000

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person, comfortable within the confines of your books and thoughts. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the pulse of the music vibrating through the walls. Jake's reassuring smile beside you was the anchor you desperately needed.

He claps you on the back, urging you forward. “This is your night,” he grins, moving with you toward the center of the room.

You glance around, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The room pulses with life—strangers laughing, dancing, and clinking glasses.

The familiar figure of Clapton Davis caught your eye almost immediately. Clapton, the charismatic and outgoing hipster who seemed to thrive in these environments, was surrounded by a group of friends. He was the type who exudes charm effortlessly with his easy smile and confident demeanor. He was everything you were not, and you had harbored a crush on him for quite a while now.

You often found yourself questioning the small interactions you had with him, recalling the many times Clapton approached you at school, always with some question in mind.

Sometimes, it was about complex subjects like calculus or chemistry, but often, it was something so basic that it made you wonder. “Hey, can you remind me how to find the area of a rectangle again?” he had asked once, his eyes twinkling with an inexplicable charm. Another time, it was, “Do you know if we have any homework for English?” It was as if he sought you out specifically, bypassing others who might have been more obvious choices for such questions.

Things so simple that you sometimes wondered if he was doing it just to annoy you. But you always brushed those thoughts away, deeming them too fanciful.

Each interaction left you with a flurry of emotions, part of you thrilled at the attention, and another part skeptical, thinking it was too good to be true.

Jake nudged you gently, breaking your reverie. “Let’s go join them” he suggested, nodding towards the group that included Clapton and two girls you recognized from school, Ione and Riley. Despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach, you trusted Jake and followed him.

The group welcomed you warmly, and you tried your best to engage in the conversation. Your eyes occasionally met Clapton’s, and each time you noticed a peculiar intensity in his gaze. Was he actually staring at you? You dismissed the thought as wishful thinking and focused on the ongoing chatter.

After some time, someone suggested playing truth or dare. The idea was met with enthusiastic approval, and a empty bottle was swiftly produced. The game began, and the tension in the air grew palpable. You watched the bottle spin, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. It finally landed between you and Jake.

“Truth or dare?” He asked you simply.

In a rare moment of bravery, you chose dare. You wanted to show that you could be courageous and, more importantly, you trusted Jake. He pondered for a moment, then a devilish grin spread across his face.

“I dare you to sit on Clapton’s lap for the rest of the game,” he announced.

That’s it, tonight you’re gonna have to find a way to hide Jake’s dead body without nobody noticing.

Laughter erupted around you, and your heart sank. You shot Jake a death glare so intense that he almost retracted the dare. But before he could, Clapton spoke up. “I’m totally fine with that dare,” he said, his voice steady but there was a noticeable effort to keep his excitement under wraps.

His eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm that he tried to hide behind a casual tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a grin.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you stood up. The room seemed to blur as you walked towards Clapton, ignoring the jealous and envious glares from Ione and Riley.

As you reach him, Clapton surprises you by pulling you gently but firmly onto his lap. His muscular arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place. The closeness is electrifying, and your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and a thrill you can't quite name. You can feel his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Clapton shifted slightly, making sure you were comfortable. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. You nodded, unable to find your voice, overwhelmed by the proximity and the fluttering in your stomach.

The game continues, but your attention is solely on the sensation of being so close to Clapton. It feels like you and Clapton are in a world of your own. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart.

His head rests on your shoulder, and he begins to whisper in your ear, his voice a soft murmur that only you can hear. "How are you doing?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his words. The unexpected sweetness in his tone makes your heart flutter.

“Good,” you manage to reply, though your voice is shaky.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You settle in, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks. Clapton leans in closer again, his breath warm against your ear “You’re braver than I thought,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His words send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Do you come to parties like this often?" Clapton asks, his tone curious.

“Not really,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “I’m more of a quiet night kind of person.”

"Really? I'm glad you came tonight," he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "It's nice to see you outside of school."

You nod, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Yeah, it's... different."

Some people in the circle leave to get a drink, others join in to participate in the game and Clapton keeps up a steady stream of whispers. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You look really good tonight," he whispers, his voice low and intimate.

Your checks flush deeper feeling the intensity of his gaze on you and you manage a soft "thank you" in response. His compliments are so unexpected and genuine that they leave you both flustered and thrilled.

His lips grazing your ear while his hand rests on your hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles that make it hard to focus on anything else.

Every time someone else takes their turn, you’re acutely aware of his presence. His hand on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional squeeze of reassurance. He asks you questions, some innocent, others more daring, each one making your heart race faster.

“Have you always been this bold?” he asks at one point, his tone filled with genuine curiosity and admiration. You turn slightly to look at him, his face close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Maybe you just bring it out in me,” you reply surprising yourself with your honesty.

His presence is reassuring and his whispered conversations create a private bubble for the two of you amidst the chaos of the party.

He keeps the conversation light, asking you about your interests, your favorite subjects, and anything that comes to his mind.

"Thanks for all the help with school" he continues, his breath tickling your ear "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning.

"You must be really good at what you do," he says at one point. "I mean, you've helped me so much, and I know I'm not the easiest person to teach.”

You laugh softly: "You're not that bad. Sometimes I wonder if you really need the help, though.”

"Do you remember that time in class when I asked you for help with that really simple math problem?" he asked, his tone conspiratorial.

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from smiling too widely "I remember thinking you couldn't possibly be that bad at math”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "I wasn't. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you." His admission made your heart flutter, and you found yourself looking at him with a mixture of surprise and affection

"Really?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief

"Really," he confirmed, his eyes holding yours with a sincerity that left you breathless. "I guess I just needed a way to get your attention.

I guess I just like spending time with you and hearing you talk.”

His admission sends a flutter through your heart, and you glance at him, finding his gaze already fixed on you. There's a sincerity in his eyes that makes your breath catch.

"I like spending time with you too" you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The game around you fades into the background as you and Clapton continue to talk. He shares stories about his adventures in skateboarding, his mishaps in detention, and his dreams for the future.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart, his breath occasionally tickling your neck.

He adjusted his pink hat, then took it off and playfully placed it on your head. “Looks better on you,” he said with a grin. “You can keep it if you want”

Your face remained a permanent shade of red, but despite your initial embarrassment, a sense of exhilaration began to creep in. Clapton’s proximity, his touch, and his words all made you feel a rush of emotions you had never experienced before. Each time he spoke, it was as if the rest of the room faded away, leaving just the two of you in an intimate bubble.

"Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?" Clapton whispered, his voice dripping with playful insinuation.

You turned your head slightly catching his eyes with yours. "Maybe it's just you," you replied, attempting to match his teasing tone, though your voice was tinged with genuine nervousness.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. "I don't think so. I've got a feeling it's because of you." His hand gently squeezed your waist, pulling you a fraction closer. His touch was both comforting and thrilling, a juxtaposition that made your heart race.

"You know, I've always thought you were cute when you were deep in thought," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear once again. "But seeing you blush? That's something else entirely”

You felt your cheeks grow even hotter, if that was possible. "I... I didn't know you paid that much attention," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Clapton grinned, his eves twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I pay attention to all the important things." He shifted slightly, his thigh pressing against you in a way that made your breath hitch. "Like how you always have that adorable furrow in your brow when you're concentrating on something.”

You couldn't help but laugh softly the tension casing just a bit. "And what else have you noticed?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost grazing your neck. "I've noticed how you always bite your lip when you're nervous. Like right now." His voice was low, intimate, and it made your pulse quicken.

Your instinct was to look away but his gaze held you captive. "Maybe I should stop being so nervous then," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Clapton's eves darkened slightly, a look of genuine affection mingling with his playful demeanor. "I don't mind. It's one of the things I find most endearing about you.”

When the game finally ended and the party began to wind down, Clapton didn't let you go immediately. Instead, he held you a little longer, his eyes searching yours. As people started leaving, he gently pulled you aside, away from the others.

Jake catches your eye, giving you a thumbs up before you lose sight of him, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

Clapton expression was serious, yet there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

"I really enjoyed having you here tonight, I like you. A lot." he confessed, his voice sincere.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. The guy you had admired from afar, the one who seemed so out of reach, was standing here, confessing his feelings for you. Overwhelmed, you could only manage a shy smile.

His whispers are constant, each one more daring than the last.

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to kiss me?” he asks suddenly, his voice barely audible over the music still going. His question catches you off guard, and you can feel your face heating up.

“Maybe,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. The truth is, you’ve thought about it more times than you can count.

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your car. “I think about it too,” he confesses, his voice sending another shiver through you. “A lot.”

“What else have you thought about?” you ask, your voice teasing. You’re starting to feel bolder, encouraged by his openness.

“I’ve thought about what it’d be like to hold your hand” he says, his fingers brushing against yours. “To take you out somewhere nice, just the two of us.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache with a mix of hope and nervousness. “That sounds perfect,” you admit, your voice soft.

“I think we’d have a lot of fun together,” he says, his smile widening. “I’d love to see you outside of school.”

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement building. “I’d like that too.” you say your voice filled with anticipation.

To your surprise Clapton leaned in and kissed you. It was gentle at first, a tentative meeting of lips, it quickly deepened as both of you poured months of unspoken emotions into that kiss and all your fears and insecurities melted away in that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, and Clapton's smile mirrored the joy you felt inside.

"Can we try this? You and me?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing that this was what you wanted too. The night had started as a leap out of your comfort zone, but it had ended with a dream come true. And as you walked out of the party with Clapton by your side, you knew that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

Over the following days and weeks, the dynamic between you and Clapton shifted in the most delightful ways. At school, he would find new reasons to approach you, although now his questions were more genuine and thoughtful. "Can you help me with this physics problem?" he would ask, spending the rest of the time staring at your face lovably without understanding your explanations.

He would wait for you after classes, casually leaning against the lockers, his easy smile lighting up when he saw you.

The whispers and curious glances from others became background noise as you grew more comfortable with Clapton's presence in your life. You spent more time together, studying, talking, and discovering shared interests. You learned that despite his laid-back exterior, he had deep passions and aspirations, and he loved hearing about your dreams and ideas.

He also really loved to take you to his favorite skatepark and hear you cheer his name over and over.

Through every shared moment, every whispered conversation, and every tender kiss, Clapton showed you that stepping out of your comfort zone had been the best decision you ever made. The shy intelligent person you once were found that the risks you took led to the most rewarding outcomes.

Note: it’s been a while since I watched the movie so I’m sorry if I got something wrong with him ♡.

[ranticore]

We know the werewolves were one guys specific indentured servants. Are there any other monsters that were just one specific guy’s? Actually. Is that wizard still around and how does he (it?) feel about it? Did Revelation’s specific underlings also get hit especially hard or just it?

Anyway your Kosa setting is cool as hell and I love everyone and also Revelation. And its wife guy (guy who is a wife guy to it).

hiii i'm going to answer all your asks in this one post to make things easier, thank you so much for giving me a lot of stuff to think about

Anyway, werewolves! It's accepted that pretty much every wizard had a lot of servants, this guy (Onozar The Transcendent, the green wyrm with red markings) just happened to have a lot in the general region i do most of my worldbuilding in (the two of Kosa is here, the Ama plains, other areas etc). That means werewolves are pretty common here, and have spread elsewhere from here, but other areas and regions have their own different population densities of werewolves and other 'beastified servant' type monsters.

Onozar isn't open about it, his faces are now very different to how he looked back in the day (aka the face on the werewolf masks) and he has very purposefully put his past behind him. Yes he did terrible stuff and was essentially a magical dictator once upon a time. But that was so long ago and he was punished for it so as far as he's concerned he's done with it and the werewolves are unrelated to him (and if somebody else brings it up omg you're all so obsessed with the past, don't you know people grow and change?? it was NORMAL to have slaves back then okay it was just part of the culture and it's honestly really suspicious and hurtful that you would bring this up to attack him at a time like this, and-)

Revelation was not a big shot among wizards. It had servants yes but not so many that they became their own species of monster (many of the monsterifications were chosen as a form of dramatic irony based on the individual person's personality). I still have to design a bunch of other monster types but I'll say yes they were probably hit harder than they should have been, everybody in and around Revelation's tower were made An Example.

It's a little easier to scapegoat the guy who has no real influence and no real friends in this social circle ain't it

He's only good at killing crawling beasts lol, that's partially why king harpies evolved after all - to fight and kill the crawlers, which are very strong but not very fast. His type eat mainly rabbits and hares, and he tends to be not quite fast enough to consistently catch them himself, the much swifter and smaller cobs and pens take care of that (he still runs far faster than a human tho, he's had some luck catching antelopes if he gets close enough before the chase). He is part of a flock, he just kinda... drifted away from living with the others, splitting his attention between Revelation and his other duties. Like many kings he's fighty and opinionated, with the added assurance of a creature that knows it's too big and strong to fall prey to... pretty much everything else. He enjoys art and beautiful things and has happily worked in alliance with the local wolfmen packs in the past in return for some of their dye products.

So his flock is a multi-type coalition between a collection of eyries (or whatever word I'll use for the small harpy settlements that form under the banner of a single flock). He's not the all-king of the flock, but he is the king of the terror bird types. The other types within the flock are all ground-nesting but not necessarily flightless harpies. His eyrie has about thirty individuals living there and he had three tiercels (not including Revelation). Revelation didn't kill all his flockmates but it did quietly disappear his other tiercels at some point. I need to do a little more work on them but yea

These different characters actually represent different time periods in the setting (the guy, Ambrose, is from the 1600s, while Mikalai and Cuinn come from the 1800s!). I think the whole thing with Revelation is much earlier, going for a more medieval look with those guys. It means that Revelation's march is technically just a part of history for Cuinn and the rest of them :) The world didn't end. But it DID change (.... not many wyrms around these days, anymore, i wonder what happened to them...)

[jyuansgf]

❀ nsfw content ahead. ruan mei x fem!reader (wlw) ⌗ use of sex toys (vibrator), multiple orgasms, praise. not proofread.

notes: wow i write for women.. jsfhdghggnhg this is lowkey a manifestation for her to come home to me on her rerun.. pls pray for my pulls T___T i just want her to call me a good girl!!! let me be ur lab rat!!!!! this woman!!!! i love her!!!!!!!

even though you consider yourself lucky to be dating ruan mei–she has always been away due to work matters or anything that requires her attention. sometimes you would even find it frustrating to be away from your lover because god knows what’s taking her away from you but you know better than to not butt in to whatever she is working on, always, whether it would be an experiment or just another disaster that other people would have to deal with later on.

but of course, whenever she comes home–she never forgets to bring something for you, a present. it could be either some ornament, books, necklaces or anything that reminds her of you. but this time.. it was quite something that you weren’t familiar with, or at least. she says it was something to experiment on you, specifically. you even asked her what it was or who gave it to her, but she will only reply with: someone gave it to her as a gift. 

it didn’t even take you a minute to say yes to her, with how eager you have been for the pleasure derived from the touch of your loving girlfriend. yet there you are, placed on her work desk with your legs wide open. your dripping cunny exposed to her, desperate to be touched and to feel her fingers inside you. . even the vibrator lodged in to your warm hole wasn’t enough to fill in the gaps.

as she gently spoke, “is it not.. pleasuring you well? or should i do this?” do what exactly..? you thought to yourself. her hand resting on your soft thighs—not even looking up to you as her attention was between your thighs, studying the way your cunt reacts to the said toy before pulling out a remote, followed with a click sound. she must be increasing the vibrator.

“w–what is— ah!” you began to speak—until you were stopped by a sudden jolt of intense pleasure, making you arch your back as you tried to grab the edge of the desk to prevent you from falling. the way your cunt was making those squelching noises as your legs felt like it was gonna give up anytime was embarrassing.

“mhm,” ruan mei hummed as she was a bit startled by your reaction, but you swear to god that you heard her let out a soft chuckle with her signature smile. “feels good, isn’t it? i thought it would be a failed experiment. but just as i expected from you.” 

not even a single thought passed your mind at the situation you were in—and even though you wanted to say something it would only be converted into incoherent words. being reduced to a drooling, crying, overstimulated mess just from the vibrator as she gently wiped your tears before gently lifting up your chin to make you look at her, making you suck on her thumb.

“if you can cum again for me, i promise i’ll make it up to you,” as she placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, “what do you say, my pretty girl?” you could only nod your head, in sign of complete submission. too lost from the pleasure and desperation, as if this wasn’t your fourth orgasm. . but as long as you get to feel her warmth against your body again, you would do anything. 

“good girl.”

[crazysodomite]

older lgbt art and writing is so refreshing because it's just. honest, fun, filled with love for other people in the community... some of this art was made during the toughest times for lgbt people and they still found love and support for each other.

people on social media are so needlessly cruel and mean spirited. its like the only thing people care about is how to let everyone know what they hate and what annoys them about other people and everyone just wants to find the meanest cruelest thing to say so they look like the Coolest Radicalest person in the room unlike those Cringe Lamers :/// its so fucking exhausting. as a person who has no community irl and lives in a place where lgbt people have no rights its so fucking exhausting to see how people in western countries do nothing all day other than talk about how much they hate other people who frankly did nothing wrong other than be mildly annoying (in their own subjective opinion).

people online get off to making others feel bad about themselves.

in my country being lgbt can end up with you being slammed face first into the floor by cops in full riot gear and going to prison afterwards. but full grown adults should talk more how obnoxious they find trans furries or whatever the fuck the "cool thing to shit on and find annoying of the week" is. i dont feel safe talking about anything online. and i don't. there's no community online or offline. just. constant immature bullshit.

i dont really want to tie this into something specific. just the general pattern. people follow 'trends' because they want to interact and be in community with other people. not everyone is trying to be Cool and Not Cringy by being irony poisoned and nihilistic or cruel 😐not everyone is pursuing the goal of being cool and better than everybody else. the constant fucking neverending stream of "xyz is so annoying" "omg finally someone said it i hate them too 😂" "theyre so embarrassing and make me feel homophobic/transphobic😂" (real funny joke btw) is so exhausting.

i really am just tapped out of social media. people (especially in western countries) act like lgbt oppression is basically no longer a thing because in Some countries there are Some lgbt rights. even though even in most 'progressive' countries those rights are constantly under attack. even though lgbt people still are being killed all around the world. people talk about being radical and yet they will not step up when someone experiences oppression because they were 'annoying'. lol. because they are constrained by their own embarrassment and cruelty.

whatever. i consider it quite pointless for me to say anything about this so i usually don't. because nothing i say will change anyones mind or behavior so im just speaking into the void.

i am happy when lgbt people are expressing themselves and idgaf if it's annoying or uncool. because im a fucking adult person living in a place where you cant even go outside as an lgbt person. 😐 social media is not safe and no one is to be trusted.

[vigilskeep]

sometimes your life choices will have you wake up, make a post, fall asleep again, and wake up again to a good dozen asks about whether or not varric fucks

[moe-broey]

Going to the mall as I am now (kinda punky/extremely autistic) is kinda funny like. That's a nice shirt. However, it's not one of my thousand beloved black graphic t shirts and it is such a texture and kind of a weird shape to it and honestly I don't really wanna buy any sort of fast fashion type shit or brand shit. Don't care. Oh they have patches. Kinda cute but straight up I can just make those. In fact, I would prefer to. Don't care. Also I'm not buying that.

[noxtivagus]

i LOVE stormblood (listening to some of the ost rn <3 i love all the expansions so very much. they all mean a lot to me <3)

[0rionz-belt]

this is going to sound fucked up, partially because i dont know how to say what im thinking properly, but i hate that lack of privacy gets taken advantage of by capitalism.

dont get me wrong, privacy is super fucking important obviously. but if we had a machine that could pull our memories out over the years and save them so we can watch them at the end of our lives, i think that would be incredibly lovely. but we would have to worry about the company or government accessing that data and even using it and it would be seen as a total invasion of privacy BECAUSE of that aspect. but in a world where that shit doesnt happen and i could be guaranteed that no one except me would EVER see those memories, id do it in a heartbeat. but of course fucking capitalism ruined that.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt how much I love oni's writing again... In particular, "a seed is planted" continues to be one of if not my favorite logs because despite the troubling details and implications that come with it, it's the one thing in the entirety of the decaying corpse of gravitas that genuinely leaves us with a grain of hope (a seed if you will) and makes oni as a whole a lot more bitter sweet as while earth may not have survived, the dupes did, and after their horrible origins and the shit that many of them went through, in due time they'll finally get to just live, they're free now, and even if Olivia's sleep is end of a tragedy, the world will keep moving forward with or without those who've been lost

[screampied]

pls pls pls can we get some overstimulating toji, Hes whimpering so much, maybe tie his hands up 👀🙏 love u twin

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji letting you "top" him

warnings. fem! reader, overstim, whiney toji, riding him after he cūms, dirty talk, mdni.

“hmph. you’re gettin’ too fuckin’ cocky,” toji gruffs lowly, leaning back against the padded comforter. dark eyes stare right back into you as you straddle his lap. he’s buried into you, and he was just about to finish. his breaths were quick paced, huffing and puffing. white clouds of air escape his lips as he keeps dark irises on each of your fidgety movements. “wipe that smile of y’er face. don’t like when ya give me that look.”

you hum, leaning in to toss your arms over his wide shoulders. whilst he’s stretching your gummy walls out to the very fullest— you lean in to plant a kiss near the right side of his lip, soft contact right against his infamous slanted scar. a soft moan always withdraws from his lips whenever you did that. the toughness that scraps against your mouth as you plant your lips down on that specific spot. “or …what?” you tease, grinding your hips just a bit more brisker at a fleeting tempo. “aw, someone’s getting close?”

“fuuuck,” he growls out, pearly white canines sticking out near the very corners of his mouth. toji’s head throws back in rapture and he feels your hand glide down the middle part of his chest. his shaggy, unkempt bare chest—all types of scars from his work that you love to feel all over. he’s about to pump you full, the blissful agitation that pokes against his nerves makes him feral. “sensitive still,” and with a low exhale, he glares at your stretching sly smile. “don’t give me that look. don’t …. even—f-fuck..”

and at that exact moment, toji fushiguro whined.

you grow quiet. he grows so quiet, it’s so silent that you could hear a pen drop.

toji swallows, even a simple action as that was just so loud. he groans, leaning back against the fat silk pillows before he stares at you with low hooded eyes.

“s-shit,” and his voice continues to grow more . . . shaky.

it’s so unlike him, the way his words quaver from each word was so cute to hear. you even had his hands tied up, pinned amongst the edges of the bed. he was sprawled all out for you while you were grinding against his lap.

“i spoil you too much, f-fuckin’ little girl,” and he’s clearly trying to keep up his rough facade— but alas, it’s really no use.

“you’re cute when you whine, baby,” you smooch against the scar near the right side of his lip.

his mouth twitches in vexation and you watch as his eyes roll further back.

his abdomen— oh, it burns into a mild volume of arousal, he’s profusely sweating before he feels himself about to break. each time you sneak a kiss against his scar, he groans. “mwah,” you tease, treating the lower part of his face with such delicacy. toji was shooting you a look of grimace. briefly—he tried to keep up his stubborn antics, but his glare only turned into lewd eye rolls from how good you clamp against his cock. it’s so good, the saturation of your sopping wet pussy squeezing down on him tight, he’s going dumb by the minute. “it’s okay, toji. you can cum.”

“don’t tell me what to d—” and he gets cut off before he quite literally does cum, it’s abrupt. toji’s quavering underneath you as he dumps a thickset load of seed into you. “shit, fuckin’ damn,” he heaves. his breath was heavy as he’s leaning all the way back now. with a hand still gripped onto your left hip, he sinks into the weightlessness nirvana that awaited him. “fuuck,” he pants, a rough hand grasping your ass— for a solid moment, toji grows quiet and the only sounds that’s could have been made were the sloshes of your cunt accepting his seed. somehow he managed to rip off the restraints on his wrists—wasting no time to finally touch you. in the midst of still rocking your hips in a circular rotation again toji—it consists of such satiny ropes, you’ve never felt more stuffed. “ugh, fuckin’ slut. got me moanin’ for you like this-”

you giggle, gifting him with a chaste kiss. “i’m not done, baby. keep up with me, okay?”

toji’s caught by surprise once you start to move your hips again, accelerating them against him and he whines. “f-fuck, the fuck? girl, ‘jus fuckin’ came . . sensitive, goddamnnn.”

it was cute, the way his low raspy voice pitches up an octave— he’s whimpering, the rapid movements of your pussy having him practically speechless. with his twitching dick now flaccid, he’s still got a firm grip on your waist. a raw groan only then wrenches from the back of his throat.

“can’t cum anymore, f-fuck, ‘m still sensitive,” he babbles, softly pulling you by the neck to give him a kiss.

and by kiss, it was more sloppy than anything. with wet tongues moving against each other in tavern, he feels you grinding again and again.

toji’s so warm. he can feel his heartbeat coercively pulsating through his ears. your tender touch against him had him so needy. even while having him like this— he was still attractive, yet that’s when you grab his wrists, making him pin them back again. “fuck are ya d-doing.”

“no touching me, baby,” you hum, and his glare returns. with pinkish crimson lips squeezing into a scowl, his darkened eyebrows curl into a furrow. “touch me after you give me another one, yeah?”

he swallows, toji couldn’t believe how dominant you were being. it was rare to get him like this, even rare to be on top of him.

“fuckin’ brat,” he grouses, his muscles near his forearms tensing. your cunt’s involuntarily constricting around his massive length. your walls hug him tightly before he starts to pant more and more. “fine. f-fine, just kiss me again…… please.”

you lean in, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders before pulling him into a deep kiss.

he’s so sensitive—heavy, hot huffs of breaths gnashing together, he whines again in your mouth. toji shivers, feeling the print of your thumb brush down against his undercut. he groans, feeling your hips start to pick up pace again and he pulls away to breathe. “phew,” he puffs out, seeing nothing but pure stars. you rode him so good that he didn’t even have a witty comeback.

toji’s entire face was all flustered, he glowers once he sees your smug grin tug against your lips. “what.”

“you should whine more,” you pause your hips, leaning in to pepper a few kisses against his cheek. he’s so fluttered—still heaving through his full lungs, eyelids halfway open as a big arm wraps around your waist. toji pulls you close, despite how embarrassed he was—he took it as a opportunity to pull you closer towards him. “you sound so cute when you’re whiney.”

“shut up,” he pouts, avoiding eye contact. toji’s still stuffed inside of you before he grunts once he feels you starting to move then stop. “m-mhm. don’t stop though. keep going.”

you giggle, bringing a single finger to stroke his cheek. “say please, toji.”

“fuckin—” he starts, sending you straight daggers. he’d argue further but he was still deeply buried into you. just a quick move with your hips and he’d start whining again from the euphoric friction. “fine. fine, just finish fucking me, please.”

“good boy,” you kiss the top of his head, starting up your hips again and he brings you into his chest, wrapping his beefy arms around you before whimpering into your neck.

he swallows, seeping his teeth into the crevice of your neck. “shut u-mhm,” and he slumps back with a pussydrunk smile on his face. “actually….praise me more. call me that again, ‘n look at me when you do.”

“good boy, toji,” you repeat in a sweet voice, picking up his head to make him stare into your eyes—he’s still panting before he leans back, groaning, shuddering from your touch. “such a good boy.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[biromanticbookbabe]

Why is it so hard to date women??? I am one too. This shouldn't be so hard. And yet it really is.

I can get a man without even wanting to or meaning to (it happened unintentionally every time that way when I still dated men now I realized looking back on it). I could do that again but I never really enjoyed it before so I doubt I would like it any better now.

You're supposed to actually enjoy dating, right?

It's not supposed to be like pulling teeth, RIGHT??? :')

(I am trying to stay positive but WOW, this sucks OMG!)

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes