#would have been nice if I'd done that in the first place

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Vampire L lawliet x reader ficlet

a brief and intimate conversation between vampire L and his lover

Warnings: assumed blood-drinking, this was barely proof read, I wrote this half asleep, there really aren't any warnings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok I AM working on the series, I just really wanted to put this out 😭 damn you vampire L!

"what are you sulking for," you sigh, settling yourself next to L. He was seated on the couch, as usual, and you filled the empty space beside him.

"I'm not sulking," he muttered. He reached for his tea, the pinkish liquid already staining his lips. His mouth always had that tint to it, it was his diet that did it.

"I know when you're sulking. Tell me."

He glanced over to you, and set his teacup on its little plate. "I'm only thinking of the case. Nothing more."

You lean in, and rest your head on his shoulder. "So many cases. When do you plan on retiring?"

He's silent, and takes your hand to fidget with your fingers. You watch as he settles it in his palm, as he gently traces the shape of each of your newly done nails with his index finger. "This is important work. I won't retire for a long time."

He can feel your face turn to nuzzle into his neck, and when you do, he rewards the action by lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles, one by one.

He didn't used to be so affectionate. It took time to get him here, to see just how much he adored you. After so long, you would think he would get tired of you, and vice versa. However, it seemed to bring you closer together.

He reaches your thumb, and presses his lips to each section in feather-light touches. Your nail...your knuckle...the bone at the base of it...

When he reaches the end, he turns your hand to kiss at your wrist. He could feeling your pulse there.

Alive, beating, warm.

"Not now."

You feel as his breath fans against your hand, a protesting sigh, but in the end he eases the appendage into his lap.

"I know it's not just the case." Your words vibrate against the skin of his shoulder, and in order to coax an answer out of him, you begin to kiss up the side of his neck.

"I'm only considering our options."

Our. As if you somehow did just as much as he did.

"I cannot afford to make more mistakes."

You groan. "Oh, is this about Jack again? You were young, inexperienced, stop beating yourself up about it."

"No," he snips. "...but...if it was, my age would be no excuse."

You give a wry snicker. "It is then. Enough of that," you plead, holding his face still while you kiss his cheek. "You know, if it hadn't gone wrong, you would never have met me."

The muscles in his jaw relax at that, a softening reserved only for your reasoning. "That is true," L murmurs. He turns to face you, and catches your lips in a tender, chaste kiss. When he pulls away, you grin.

"Remember that? How pretty I was." How you missed those gowns. They suited you so nicely, the weight of them was worth it.

L himself had to admit the attire was congenial to his preferences. The off-the-shoulder neckline truly made things more efficient, and you did look lovely.

"You are pretty," he soothes. "Time has done little to change you, my love."

You frown, just a little. "You have to say that. You're stuck with me."

Now it's his turn to frown. "I chose you because I knew you would be best suited to me. I'd rather you not negate that decision."

"...I suppose that is unfair. What did you do, in all of that time without me?"

He looks away, off to some distant time and place. "Many things. Lonely things."

"You had Watari."

"I did. Watari has always been important to me. But you provide a different kind of companionship."

Your smile returns, and he toys with the ends of your hair as he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. Then, across your jaw.

He reaches your neck, and takes a moment to breath in your scent. You always smelled so distinct. It was what drew him to you in the first place. Your skin was like nectar and musk, so human, but beneath...beneath you were saccharin. Sugary sweet, like candy. He closed the distance, and met the junction of your shoulder and neck with his tongue to drag a long, slow strip up to your ear.

"Don't get yourself worked up," you chide. Despite your vocal reaction, the hand in his hair and the relaxing of your body told him otherwise.

There was the beating again, right against his mouth. "I only want the taste."

"Drink your tea."

He knew you were right. Reluctantly, he sat back, and picked up his teacup. His hands shook as he sipped on the warm liquid, so thin compared to what he really wanted. At least it was yours, in part.

Sometimes, hunger filled him deeper than he liked to admit. It gnawed at his ribs, it slithered up his throat, it ate away at him like cavity in tooth, like flame on paper, like worm in apple.

But tonight, he was fine. Tonight, he could sip his tea while his beloved toyed with his hair, and he could suppress the urge to consume and be consumed.

He could be, for an evening, human.

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

i unraveled half a dishcloth about 3 times because i was having a toxic man-refusing-to-ask-for-directions moment and kept telling myself "nah you've knit stacks of these and it's literally the easiest pattern" and ignoring the fact that i've been crocheting for 3-4 years and could really spare 5 seconds to google a pattern as a refresher

[bananami]

The One Where Bakugo is Different With You (and your friends kinda called it but are too dumb to fully connect the dots) katsuki x fem!reader

No one understands what it is you did to make him like you. You insist that you didn't do anything. They don't believe you.

Bakugo isn't nice to anyone. He tolerates people. Sometimes. In fact, it's not like he's even nice to you. But he is different. And everyone has noticed.

"That's her seat, get up." He snaps at Mineta as the boy sits down next to him.

"What, she has to sit next to you?"

"Get. Up."

Mineta doesn't hesitate.

You've known him as long as the rest of them, but for some reason he seems softer toward you. Kirishima is the first to bring it up to him.

"Do you like her or something?"

"She's my friend, of course I like her."

"Denki is your friend, you don't like him."

"Hey!" Denki yells from the other side of the couch.

Bakugo just grits his teeth and doesn't respond.

Even when riffing with him, he takes what you say differently than he does with everyone else.

"What if I just cracked this egg over your head?"

He looks down at you. "I'd be impressed that you could reach."

"That hot head would probably fry it." Sero laughs at his own joke.

Sparks began to form from the explosion hero's good hand. "I will blast you out of this building!"

And forget about anyone else asking him for anything. He doesn't really do favors, not unless he's hounded to do them. But for you?

"I'm hungry."

Bakugo stands from the couch and holds out his hand to pull you up with him. "Let's go try the new sushi place down the block."

Or

"I have an interview with the talkshow next week but they want me there at like six in the morning."

He doesn't even look up from his phone, where he's opening his calendar to schedule himself off of work that day. "I'll stay by your place and drive you in the morning."

OR

A bag falls into your lap and the blonde plops down next to you. "They were on sale."

You open the bag to find your favorite candies, letting out an excited squeal. "They've been out the last two weeks."

"I told the guy to call me when he got a box in."

Denki tries to reach his hand out for a box but it's slapped away by the larger blonde. "Touch it or her and I will personally cut off that hand."

And then there's Kirishima's personal favorite interactions to watch. Something Bakugo has done since living in the dorms at UA, through your roommate years where all of you split an apartment to save up money.

Bakugo would get up to leave the room and stop in the doorway, staring directly at you. "Are you coming?"

"Where are we going?"

"Check your phone."

You would look down at your phone and laugh every time. "Are you embarrassed to say it in front of everyone?"

"Shut the fuck up and get over here!"

Everyone could read between the lines, and his blush on his cheeks.

But you'd never officially dated. Anytime any of the friend group would ask about it, you'd both deny it and change the subject. Kirishima and Mina would narrow their eyes in suspicion at you and one another.

"You just treat her different than everyone else." Kiri would point out.

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two do, especially not Bakugo." Mina would accuse.

The answers were always the same.

"Mind your own shitty business." Bakugo would snap.

"You all just look too much into things. He can be nice at times." You would always insist.

It would take all the way up until a random work party Bakugo's agency was holding for the truth to come out. For Denki to walk in on the two of you in the bathroom-

"Practically devouring each other! It was disgusting!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. His arms rested around the back of the couch with you tucked close into his side. "See this is why we kept it a secret for so many years, you're all being so dramatic about it."

"Years?!" Mina screamed. "How many years has this been a thing?"

You tried to avoid all eye contact with her.

"Since high school." Bakugo replied with ease.

"Since high school?!" Your friends gaped.

"When we were all living in the dorms?" Denki asked.

"Used to meet up on the old training grounds to make out."

"The apartment we all shared?" Kirishima narrowed his eyes.

"Snuck into each other's rooms like every single night, can't believe you guys never caught us then."

"When we all were interning at the same agencies?" Sero threw out there.

"Bribed the scheduling team to put the two of us on the same routes."

"Ok wait, but you guys told us you weren't and you used to talk about the different people you would go on dates with right in front of each other- oh my fucking god." Mina facepalmed.

Bakugo laughed maniacally as you tried to hold yours in.

"So you were talking about each other? Every single time?"

"Every. Single. Time."

Mina sighed. "This is actually insane, I can't believe you never said anything."

"I mean it's not like we should be that surprised, besides," Kirishima chimed in, "it's not like they're secretly engaged to be married or anything, right?"

Silence.

"Right?" Kirishima's smile falters a bit. "Please tell me you two aren't engaged."

Bakugo blinks a few times before responding. "Ok, we're not engaged."

"Bakugo!"

"Did you think I was just really nice to her all the time for no reason?"

[jinxyjinxer]

˗ˏˋ MEAN ˎˊ˗ torturing you is their hobby

⟢ characters : Ambessa Medarda, Sevika

⟢ warnings : fem!reader, wlw, mean!dom!characters (seperate), implied fingering, implied squirting, mommy kink, use of vibrator, passing out, strap-on, usage of whore, degrading, choking, strap gets referred to as dick

˗ˏˋ AMBESSA MEDARDA ˎˊ˗

"You didn't really think I'd be done with you after you only came once, now did you?", she snickered when she saw you flinch and try to inch away from her calloused fingers after pounding them into your core once again after having made you cum on her digits for the first time of the night.

"Oh, baby girl, don't fight against it. The more you try to get away, the more I just enjoy all of this even more. Be my good girl and let mommy take care of you", she mused, but her words fell onto deaf ears. One orgasm alone had you overstimulated like a dozen would, so naturally you took her large wrist into your much smaller palm, trying to push her hand away from your sensitive mounds.

Even when she told you to stop squirming so much, you didn't even consider letting her have her way for even a second. Everything was too much, your body and sheets were already a mess soaked with your squirt and sweat, you didn't think you could take another orgasm again.

"That's it. You want me to be mean? Then I'll be mean", she suddenly snapped from your antics, lifting you up effortlessly with her immense strength and placing you across her lap as she sat down on the edge of the bed. With one hand she held both of your wrists behind your back while the other one grabbed for something in a box under the bed — a vibrator.

Needless to say that for the next the gods know how long you've been held in this position, your clit getting stimulated by the vibrating toy, crying and begging for her to have mercy on you until you finally passed out from exhaustion. "At least you're compliant now."

˗ˏˋ SEVIKA ˎˊ˗

"Please, no! I'm so sorry Sevi-!", you tried to apologise to your girlfriend when you found yourself getting dragged into your shared room, getting put onto all fours, hands and legs soon tied together so you couldn't move at all before felling her slam the biggest strap on she could find into your unprepared cunt, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

"You should have thought about disrespecting me before begging for my forgiveness", she grunted as she dragged the silicone toy out of your cunt only to thrust it into you again with a brutal, almost inhuman force, her anger with you evident in her voice as well as her movements as she continued penetrating the life out of you.

"Sevika please this, Sevika please that", she mocked you, imitating your voice as she did so. "Just shut the fuck up and take your punishment like the fucking whore you are", she growled, and at the same time the tip of the toy hit your cervix brutally, making you scream her name for everyone in all of Zaun to hear.

One of her large hands loosened its grip to instead take a fist full of your hair between her fingers, pulling harshly on your scalp so you'd arch your back nicely for her to ravage you like an animal. Her other hand now found its way around your neck, at first only stroking your skin and making your breath hitch in anticipation before her fingers closed around your throat, restricting the air flowing into your lungs, your mind soon getting all foggy.

"You've got two options now. Either you pass out or you'll cream around this dick like the fucking whore you are. Only once you've come for me, I am willing to maybe forgive you", she whispered into your ear, the sensation of the strap penetrating your deepest insides and her hand choking you mixed with her voice in your ear making you come on the spot.

[yamujiburo]

Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

[pomefioredove]

Omg hiii! I saw that your requests were open again! Please take your time and prioritize your rest, and as always your writing is such a delight to read! I always look forward to your posts! 💖💖💖

That being said, can you please write for a Yuu/reader that has a love for painting (but is shy about showcasing their skill) , and was absolutely taken by Vil's beauty even before they met him? Of course they didn't know that he was a famous actor at first. What if Vil one day finds their sketches and paintings of him after months of knowing him? (hmm preferably after the events of book 6..? 👀)

SO CUTE!!! kicking my legs back and forth at this anonnn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the picture of vil schoenheit

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

How were you supposed to know?

It's not like Crowley had given you a guide on Night Raven College or its students (though, wouldn't that have been nice?)

I mean, you had to reminded of Trey's last name not two weeks ago. How were you supposed to know who Vil Schoenheit is?

You'd only seem him at a distance. Passed him by in the halls while he scolded some poor first year. He even looked beautiful when he was angry.

He was just made to be painted.

You didn't show your friends the art. You didn't need to give Ace another reason to tease you, and being a stalker would've really been the cherry on top of your weirdness sundae.

Besides, it was just drawing. Practice! Sketches from a distance, doodles done in the margins of your notes, watercolors and paintings from memory...

It felt familiar. This man, this stranger, someone you hadn't even spoken to, made you feel a little closer to home.

.

"Really, you should have some sort of organizational system,"

Vil leafs through pages of alchemy reports and history of magic homework. "Might I suggest a recycling bin?"

You smile. It's not often that your friend- Vil Schoenheit, that is- has a day off. But today is Saturday, and your room is in desperate need of his touch.

"This is... chaotic," he says, brushing a clump of Grim fur off his shoulder. "And you live like this?"

You shrug. "I try,"

"Well, try no more. We'll have this done before dinner,"

His commitment is touching. Millions of screeching fangirls would give anything just to spend five minutes with Vil, and here he is, tidying your room for you.

It's almost cute. He's humming to himself, hair tied back in a ponytail, in one of your shirts (his are too nice to get dirty), sweeping Grim fur out from under your bed.

"Rook and Epel couldn't make it?" you ask, pretending not to care that it's just the two of you.

"I told them not to bother,"

"Oh?"

Vil tsks. "They would get in the way. We're much more efficient on our own- we work well together, after all,"

That's something he'd said before. You'd always wondered what it meant.

"Right,"

You switch places, going to strip your bed of its sheets for washing while Vil tidies your desk.

Off go the pillow cases, the comforter, the blankets. You're wrestling with your mattress when you notice that he hasn't moved in a while.

He's looking through some of the papers from within the bowels of your desk, smiling to himself, a finger held to his perfect lips.

"What?"

"Hm?" he hums, but he doesn't look at you. "Oh, just... admiring your work. You have quite an eye for detail, have I ever told you that?"

He's being weird. You let go of your bundle of bedding and look at what he's holding, but it's just your sketchbook.

Oh. Oh, no. It's your sketchbook.

"OH! Um, wait-" you say, rushing to his side. "Don't- don't look!"

Vil smirks, and he holds the art over your head. "How unfair. The muse should always be the first to see, you know,"

Damn his height and perfect, slender arms!!! Your eyes widen. "It's not what it looks like! I didn't know you when I did those!"

"Yes, I saw the dates. You could make a career out of admiring me, you know~" he chuckles. "I'd pay for these. I'm sure Rook would like a few, as well."

You're practically melting with embarrassment. "Come on- give it back!"

Seeing your pathetic, embarrassed whining, Vil relents, handing you the sketchbook with an eye-roll.

"What are you ashamed of? They're fine pieces,"

"It's not that," you clutch the book to your chest. "It's just- uh- weird, isn't it?"

Vil scoffs. "I'm weird?"

"NO! I meant- I didn't even know you, and I drew you almost every day- that isn't... strange?"

He takes a moment to study you, your body language, the embarrassed look on your face. From head to toe. And then he smiles, warmly.

"I am in a dorm with Rook. There are very, very few things that I find strange now. You admire me- I'm flattered,"

He gingerly takes sketchbook out of your arms and opens it again. "Not to mention, you have an artistic eye that any director would kill for."

You stand there, a little dumbfounded, but mostly very, very grateful that he's your friend, and that you can laugh about this together.

"I'm... well... thank you," you finally say.

Vil smirks, and pinches your cheek. "You're precious. Now, back to work. I want this room over with. These paintings won't frame themselves, will they?"

[fangsandfeels]

Rewriting Veilguard factions because I can:

Some things I'd have changed for each faction:

First of all, I'd introduce particular race restrictions for every faction because stop pretending they don't matter. The latter only destroys the unique specifics behind every race and its history in the world of Thedas.

Add extra background options for Rook related to their fraction for more roleplay and dialogue options. For instance, "noble" and "foundling" for the Mourn Watch, "new blood" and "veteran" for Grey Wardens, etc.

Remove the "Rook had to temporarily leave their faction because they did the thing and made the upper management mad" thing. Make their decisive action part of their bio, but not the reason for their participation in the main quest. Instead, let Rook to be actually entrusted by their group to get out there and find out what's going on - and end up cooperating with the Solas search group. Let whatever Solas is doing affect every fraction: spirits going stir-crazy in the Grand Necropolis, Lords of Fortune having to deal with Qunari and magical anomalies at the sea, not to mention increased dragon activity, weird elf disappearances in Treviso, Tevinter authorities growing more and more paranoid due to spike in elven slave rebellions (that Shadow Dragons had nothing to do with) and their rare magical artifacts going missing, Dalish elves hearing whispers and voices calling to them, Grey Wardens cooperating with the Inquisitor's initiative to find Solas and sending their volunteer (Rook) to assist. That would add more competence to their character.

Antivan Crows

I'll be frank: it should be Zevran's group, whatever he would call it. While Zevran is definitely not a good boy, he wouldn't make his trainees undergo the same torture he did.

Also, he'd hate the conditioning and brainwashing done by the Crows. So, Rook could have been one of the Treviso orphans already traumatized by the Antivan Crow training - until Zevran came into picture and, after killing the Crows, ended up with a bunch of fledglings on his hands. You can't exactly tell the younglings to go and be free, you have to teach them - while do something about them believing they're only good for killing. Due to this, Zevran ended up training them and getting that self-degrading bullcrap out of their heads. He didn't expect to have a guild of his own, but joke's on him, he is a leader now and now he is going to make Antiva a better place for his underlings.

Once again, it doesn't mean playing for the "good assassin guys", but if you want your morally gray faction, it will do nicely. Zevran isn't exactly a hero, but he is also not a total scumbag who buys people and makes child soldiers.

I can believe that he and his associates would actually be interested in organizing partisan movements around Treviso and killing occupants. After all, Zevran knows Quanri and their views better due to him traveling with Sten (from their interactions, I didn't get the idea that he was super into the Qun or comfortable with Sten's ideas), so he knows what exactly is going to happen to the Treviso denizens. Moreover, he is done with ANY attempts at brainwashing, will breaking, and reconditioning so he wouldn't stand for Qunari doing it, no matter their reasoning.

Available races: human, elf

Lords of Fortune

Just let them be pirates led by Isabela. Yes, the kind that doesn't care if the stuff they take belongs to another culture - because money. But also the kind that takes in runaway slaves and anyone else as long as they can keep up.

The kind that takes on merc jobs and also assists in defending Rivain because it's their territory - and for many, it's their home.

Rook starting out as a former escaped slave from Tevinter is a great template for both a merc with a heart and standards and an absolutely ruthless pirate who sees the world as the dog eat dog place.

Available races: all of them, Lords don't discriminate.

Veil Jumpers

I'd even change the name because it sounds so...not serious. Even Fade Stalkers sounds better (come on, writers, I see what you did with the Arlathan forest, you clearly wanted a fantasy version of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., so just embrace it).

Let this faction be created by one of the ancient elves who used to be stuck in the Fade, then got out - but were NOT happy with Solas, don't want to follow him and don't trust him to fix things. The Evanuris once led them and they ended up enslaved, why should they trust Solas and his good intentions, especially if he claims to be the one to fix and restore the world? So they don't.

They don't see the point in "burn it down and rebuild again" because they already have the bitter experience: so they would rather try their chances with what they have right now, by equipping their people with information and truth.

So, they manage to gather the Dalish people willing to believe and follow them, seeking to educate them and teach them on using magic and tools long forgotten and salvage whatever is left of their heritage, only now with the knowledge of using it.

The most difficult faction to gain approval for if you're not an elf: because some leaders are willing to cautiously cooperate, while others think that Felassan was right and that this world was so much better without humans, dwarves, or Qunari.

Available races: the elf only club.

Shadow Dragons

The in-game faction is mostly fine, aside from the game trying to make it look like Venatori are the only ones who want them dead. No, Shadow Dragons are beefing with the entire Magisterium (aside from Dorian and Maevaris' party) and are depicted as an extremely violent terrorist group both within and outside Tevinter, with only slaves and low-class citizens actually believing in their cause and hoping for their assistance.

Because this is what a corrupt government does - invest in smear campaigns so vile and vicious that you have to be prepared to debunk numerous myths about your group and cause before engaging with people.

This should be particularly painful if you, as a Shadow Dragon, interact with people outside Tevinter because given the real life experience with westerners, people living in safe and privileged first-world countries would rather gobble up the comfortable and refined lies spread by your enemies than listen to you, someone who was oppressed and hurt by your enemy.

Realistically, a Shadow Dragon Rook would have to facepalm their way through the ridiculous shit like "Don't you guys kidnap slaves from their cozy kennels only to forcefully conscript them to your army?" or "Aren't you guys just a bunch of mercenaries sponsored by one of the Senate parties to undermine its political opponents?" or "You're just part of the Par Vollen and Tevinter war. Do you think I'm stupid and don't know you're on the Qunari payroll?" or "All you want to do is to escalate and spread chaos, don't even try to do it here".

Another realistic issue for Shadow Dragons should be dodging Qunari spies. Because, lets be honest: Par Vollen would want to exploit that vulnerability in their continuous war with Tevinter. They would try to offer assistance to Shadow Dragons in order to find a way to weaken and conquer Tevinter or get their hands on secret information.

But since Shadow Dragons want to change their government, abolish slavery and the horrible political system, they don't want to do it at the cost of getting subjugated by the Qunari. So, they have to be extremely careful when picking their agents, making sure they aren't just conveniently placed Ben-Hassrath.

Available races: human, elf, dwarf, Kossith

Grey Wardens

Generally the most involved faction ever since the events of the Inquisition. First of all, where is one taint-corrupted ancient magister, there is two or even three of them. After the Adamant Fortress, they can't allow themselves to be inactive - if exiled from Orlais, they need to make up for this disaster and prevent any further manipulations, if allowed to stay and rebuild, they work closely with the Inquisitor and provide assistance with the search for Solas. Probably, not all of them are aware of the Solas' true nature - they're only given information that he is a much more powerful mage than anyone imagined and that he was the one who released Corypheus and plans for another disaster.

The First Warden is aware of the full story, but pretends to be skeptical for the sake of not arising suspicions (in case Solas' spies are around).

They should also experience issues with some of their elven Wardens suddenly leaving (you can't tell me that elf Wardens won't be tempted with a promise of never succumbing to the Calling) and detect suspicious darkspawn activity.

Available races: all, with Kossith and elves getting extra race interactivity bonuses.

Mourn Watch

The faction and its representatives are generally fine in the game, I just wish there was Cassandra to make disgusted noises at the Mourn Watcher Rook.

Imagine dodging interactions with Nevarran Mortalitasi to the point of appointing a random apostate bum as your Fade expert, only to work with a fucking Mourn Watcher because that bum you hired to be your Fade expert turned out to be a freaking elven god who started all that shit.

The irony is fucking delicious.

Aside from that, I think that Mourn Watch should be the mage-only faction because a) the order is founded by Mortalitasi, who are mages, b) what are the non-mage Watchers even supposed to do when working with spirits and the undead?

They have no tools or means of interacting with them, which means they can end up dead. It's not logical for Watchers to allow a non-mage in their ranks for the inclusivity sake, exposing them to a constant risk and knowing that the mages will be held responsible for the imminent tragedy. I imagine there is non-mage personnel at the Grand Necropolis, but I don't think they're entrusted with the same secrets and duties.

Also, there should be an option to choose between "foundling" and "noble". The foundling!Rook can have a particularly close connection to the spirits, which allows them to single-handedly calm the undead during the War of the Banners, while the noble!Rook has an established family, much more political connections and is well-versed in diplomacy and negotiations, which allowed them to trick the undead barons and put them down when they least expected it

Available races: human, elf

Bonus: new faction idea

Kal-Sharok

Give more exposure to the Titans and the dwarven connection to Stone through the perspective of the Kal-Sharok dwarves. In DAI, they were already shown carrying out their own operations and cooperated with the Inquisition on their own conditions. So, I can't imagine them not being active, especially if they are at least partially aware of the history of Titans and the Evanuris.

Rook can start as one of the Kal-Sharok agents (probably acting undercover at first), and to them stopping or even meeting Solas is of a particular priority because he holds the key to the history of the dwarves, their connection to lyrium, and many other things. This Rook is looking for the truth - and ultimately can decide, whether they should use their knowledge for advancing Kal-Sharok exclusively or should they reconnect Kal-Sharok, surface dwarves and Orzammar because they share the same past and the same trauma.

Also, a Kal-Sharok Rook can have unique mage classes if they're the one with connection to the Stone.

Available races: only dwarves

[minus-plus-zer0]

Studying in Bakugou's Dorm Headcanons

So Bakugou's dorm has never been shown in the anime. Nobody knows what it looks like...

But YOU'VE seen it.

YOU'VE SEEN IT ALL.

Sometime after you two met, he invited you into his room.

He likely wanted to show off how smart he was in class by tutoring you privately.

But you're no fool! Although there are some subjects you struggle with, there are other subjects in which you can go toe-to-toe with the man in terms of smarts! This man isn't just taking care of you, you're taking care of each other.

But anyways, you're pretty shocked when you first step into his dorm.

For starters, it's very well organized and "smart".

It's a little modern, no bullshit strewn about, no cliche hidden naughty magazines (like Bakugou would ever care about that stuff), and maybe there's some All Might paraphernalia thrown around the place.

He's a little insulted that you're surprised by it being so organized. "You thought I'd be messy or something?"

"Yes."

The whole bedroom is very no-nonsense. You tease him for being a little sterile in his decorations, which irks him a lot considering he brought you here to impress you.

His room likely includes a lot of darker colors, maybe black and even red or orange. It probably has some nice darker brown hues for the wooden furniture as a fitting tertiary color. You tease him again for the room being a bit on the darker side in terms of colors (dark like his souuuul, you say) and again, he's mad. You also pay that no mind. You just say he's cute when he's pouty and move on.

You're both at his desk studying, him in his usual desk chair while you had to bring your much more cuter and comfier chair over from your room.

He admires your knowledge and work ethic but also envies you when you get something he doesn't immediately get. He's simultaneously trying to surpass you but also get closer to you. He's totally torn and it's definitely your fault.

Sometimes you give him advice on homework and purposefully lean in far too close to him and his notebook. You're secretly watching him get totally flustered by your presence but he'll still try to hide his embarrassment.

He'll bark at you that you're going to suffocate him by breathing all of HIS personal air space but he'll never push you away. If you back away he'll just lean back over to your side and he'll smirk, saying, "Now who's suffocating who, huh?"

You scoff and lightly push him away in retaliation for what he said and he pouts sadly. He says he didn't finish hearing your explanation on how to deal with his homework problem and that you can check his notebook IF YOU MUST.

You do help him out, but you don't lean back over again. Irritated, he sidles up to you instead. You pat him on the head to calm him down.

It's a miracle that you two get any work done. You spend the next couple of hours in his bedroom just teasing each other and hanging out. Although you like to banter and bicker a lot, you both are great at supporting one another too. He especially likes it when you praise his hard work.

You originally thought Bakugou would get mad at you for getting distracted, but you noticed that much of his homework was already finished before you even stepped into the room. He probably could've finished it on his own, but he'd rather have the company.

Luckily for him, you feel the same. Now if only you two would just tell each other how you feel...

There'll always be time for that on a later day. Because fortunately for you, he's inviting you back over this weekend! But this time, you'll be studying at his childhood home.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Can you please do reader x Kurt Wagner(X-2 version) where they both have feelings for eachother but don’t voice it and they have to share a room together for a mission and it’s Kurt’s first time🙏🏻🙏🏻

~Who Says You Can't Mix Business With Pleasure?~

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: handjob, riding, cunnilingus, cum eating, unprotected p in v, creampie, Kurt is innocent (so lowkey corruption kink kinda??)- I think that's everything, I hope, maybe, sorry if not lol

Genre: fluff with nice amounts of smut

Summary: It's Kurt's first mission but who said you can't kill two birds with one stone (not literally, you read the ask)

A/N: Omg I am so glad you asked dear and so politely too. Here you go dear, hope you like it ;)

***

You push open the heavy doors to the familiar mansion, popping a large bubble with the gum in your mouth.

"Well, look who's back." Logan is the first to greet you at the door.

"You're one to talk, what are you doing here claws?"

"I hate when you call me that." He rolls his eyes as he pulls you in for a hug.

"I know but it suits you so well." You laugh wrapping your arms around him.

"Now that's a sound I haven't heard in quite a while." Scott announces as he descends the stairs.

"Summers! Is that a smile I see on your big dumb face?" You gasp.

"A surprise visit from you is deserving of one I'd say." Scott chuckles and you leap up to lock your arm around his neck.

"Everyone here's such a grumpy bastard." You ruffle his hair.

"What're you even doing here?" Scott asks wresting his way out of your grip.

"Prof asked me to come." You shrug.

"Y/n?! Y/n!" Rogue comes speeding down the hall.

"Hey poppet. How ya doin little vampire?" You ask hugging her while she lets you.

"I'm good! You're back! Are you staying?"

"Not sure hon, depends on what Xavier needs from me." You shrug.

"Where have you been?" She asks.

"All over the world, my dear. There's much to be done, you know."

"Hey Scott have you seen- y/n?" Jean comes around the corner, blinking in surprise when she sees you.

"I have actually, yes." Scott jokes.

"At this rate I'll never make it out of this foyer." You laugh. "Hey Jean." You wave at her.

"Hey! I didn't know you'd be back today."

"I don't think anyone did honestly. Even I didn't til Charles called me and told me to come back." You shrug.

"What for?" Her brow furrows.

"I have no clue, he wouldn't tell me over the phone. He just said that as soon as I was done in Seattle, I needed to head back this way." You say.

"All over the world and you were just across the country?" Rogue looks at you.

"Before Seattle I was in Cairo, before Cairo it was Greece, before that it was Italy- I'll show you pictures later." You wink at her. "I'm gonna track down Charles before any one else catches me in the foyer and I do never leave this spot." You say slipping past your friends to find Charles Xavier. Several students greet you as you walk down the halls but there are also many new faces wandering the mansion. You eventually find him in his office.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive." He says when you walk in.

"Good to see you too Charles."

"You seem well."

"I take care of myself when I'm not here." You shrug.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"So what'd ya need me for Professor?" You walk over to his bookshelf and scan the titles as you wait for an answer.

"There's a mission I have that- only you can complete."

"Me? Come on, there's a house full of us, no way they couldn't handle it." You scoff.

"It's not that they're not capable, it's that the only favorable outcome requires your presence."

"Look I'm not gonna reject the mission or anything but I can't see how that could be true." You say.

"There's a new mutant here."

"There's always a new mutant here, that's why this place exists."

"Not a student, y/n. I'm sending him on a mission and I need you to go with him." He says.

"Why me? I've never met the guy, I'm kinda the worst choice dude everyone else has been around him."

"That's exactly why it has to be you. I need him with an objective partner."

"Fine I guess. What's the mission and when do we leave?"

"Here's the file. You have an hour."

"An hour? Wow, rushing me right back outta here."  You chuckle.

"Mr. Wagner, no reason to lurk outside the door, you're welcome to join us. Come on in." Charles calls out loud.

"What're you talking about?" You frown.

"Your mission partner." Charles says and you turn your head to the closed door of the office. There's an odd thudding whoosh sound beside you out of your peripheral causing you to whip your head around. You leap out of your chair when you realize a guy is standing in the previously empty space next to you. He's a deep shade of blue with bright yellow eyes and markings covering his skin.

"What the fu- who are you?" You narrow your eyes.

"Kurt Wagner. But in the Munich circus I was known as The Incredible Nightcrawler!"

"Riiiight. Well I'm y/n but on missions I am known as Flex."

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Kurt bows his head which causes you to quirk an eyebrow up at him.

"Likewise." You hold out a hand for him to shake. The bow thing is really weird. He takes your hand in his and places a kiss on the back of it instead of just shaking it. You turn to Charles for a moment so he can fully see your confusion.

"I look forward to working with you." He smiles revealing shark-like sharp teeth.

"Same. Get yourself together Nightcrawler, we leave in an hour. And pack a bag, we'll be gone a while."

"I have to pack?! Okay. I will see you in an hour." Kurt nods leaving the office.

"What's up with him?" You ask Charles.

"Trauma. Lots of it based on what little I've been able to gather thus far." He says.

"So you want me to acclimate the new stray."

"I wish you wouldn't do that." He sighs.

"Why? It's not a dirty word. We're all strays around here. It's how we found each other." You shrug.

"Y/n." He sighs.

"Lighten up X, I love it here. Although I do have to get ready to leave again. Where are we going?" You hum opening the file to read. "Switzerland? What's in Switzerland?"

"I went through all the trouble to make that file y/n read it instead of asking me questions I've answered in there." Charles says.

"Alright, alright. I'm gonna unpack and repack and read your file. I'll keep you posted on our progress once we leave." You wink at him and leave the office. Up in your room you find Storm and Jean already chatting on your bed.

"So you weren't going to tell me you were coming back today?" Storm stands and slings an arm over your shoulders.

"Unfortunately I'm off to Switzerland darling, so I can't even catch up." You say.

"Switzerland?! For what?" Jean frowns.

"Some mission with the circus boy."

"Kurt! Wait he brought you home to go on a mission with Kurt? Why?" Storm asks.

"Your guess is as good as mine babes. I leave in an hour." You shrug.

"Wow." Jean says.

"I know. Wait I didn't bring this inside." You say noticing the bag you brought with you is on the bed.

"Logan did. You know the boys here do anything for you." Storm scoffs.

"True. Thanks to him for that. Okay, give me... Sparknotes what've I missed?" You ask as you unload your bags. You toss the dirty clothes into your hamper transfer your personal items into a larger bag and pack new clothes and Jean and Storm update you on the chaos you missed while out handling other assignments around the world. You talk with the girls as long as you can while you pack, but an hour is only so long and soon you're bidding them farewell to meet Kurt at the jet.

"Hello again y/n." Kurt says when you get there. He's perched on one of the wings of the aircraft.

"Sup Nightcrawler. Whatchya doin up there?" You ask grabbing the keys to the jet.

"Waiting for you!" He says teleporting to where you are.

"Ready to go then?"

"Yes!" Kurt says following you into the jet. You drop your bag down at the back somewhere and settle into the front seat assuming Kurt has no idea how to fly one of these things.

"Strap in somewhere Wagner, don't want you knocking around as I fly." You say as you prep for takeoff. He scrambles into the copilot seat next to you and buckles himself in. "Ready for liftoff." You put on your headset and fly out of the hanger.

"Do you know how to fly one of these things?" You ask him once you're in the air.

"Oh no. I do not- I've never- no." He shakes his head.

"You wanna give it a shot?" You smirk.

"Is it difficult?"

"Don't worry love, I'll guide you the whole way."

"What do I do?"

"You can start by grabbing the steering." You say. Kurt's hands shoot forward to grab the steer. "Good. Pull it towards you to go up, push it to go down. Turn it to turn. Got it?"

"Got it." He nods.

"Okay, I'm going to let go and switch it to your controls. Just hold your wheel5 steady." You tell him switching primary control from you to Kurt. The jet dips immediately.

"Pull up Kurt, pull up darling." You tell him and he jerks the wheel towards him sharply. "Gentle love gentle! A little goes a long way. Steady it."

"It is- scary." Kurt says.

"You're doing fine honey just take it easy. Don't let her scare you, you've got the wheel so you're in control, act like it."

"Okay. Okay. Easy. Control. Gentle."

"Much better dear, much better." You nod. "Do you wanna try something fun?"

"What is it?"

"A flip. You wanna try flipping the jet?"

"What if we crash?"Kurt's eyes widen.

"We won't. I won't let us, there's no one around, plus I think you can do it." You shrug.

"How do we do it?"

"All at once, very quickly, you need to pull the wheel towards you and flip it upside down. Okay?"

"Okay." He nods.

"Ready?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright, 3, 2, 1- go! Flip it!" You say. Kurt quickly executes your direction and the plane flips upside down once, twice, three times before Kurt rights you again.

"That was fun!" Kurt looks at you with a bright smile.

"Told ya." You wink. "Do you wanna keep flying?" You ask.

"I would feel better if you took it back soon." He admits.

"Very well, you're doing a great job though sweets." You tell him.

"Thank you, but I am still nervous." He says.

"That's fine. I'll take the reins back in 5 minutes. Is that okay?"

"Yes." He nods.

"Brilliant." You smile. After exactly five minutes you take over flying from Kurt. The flight is long, but eventually you land at the coordinates indicated in your flight plan.

"Cabin in the woods. Great." You say when you come out of the jet.

"Is something wrong?"

"No no, just making an observation." You shrug.

"It is empty out here, no?"

"Well we can't land this thing in the middle of Zurich." You say.

"Oh- yeah I suppose so." Kurt mutters.

"Get your things, we'll settle in and start mission stuff in the morning." You tell him walking over to the cabin to locate the key to this place. Eventually you find it under a panel of the floorboard that pops out of the porch apparently. You unlock the door and turn on the lights, surveying the room. There's a couch and a fireplace with a TV above the mantle on one side of the entry and a kitchen on the other. It's a little chilly in here, which makes sense, since no one's been here in who knows how long. You shoot a flame into the fireplace, lighting the wood already piled there. You head into the kitchen, wondering if there's anything left to eat in here or if the stash in the jet is all you've got. There's a few nonperishables like canned soups, dried fruits, and a bunch of jerky types but you'll probably prioritize the items you brought.

"Uh- y/n?" Kurt calls out.

"What's up?"

"There seems to only be one bedroom here?"

"Of course there is." You sigh. "Then I guess we're sharing."

"Sharing?!"

"Well yeah, obviously. Unless you'd rather sleep out here on the couch." You shrug. Kurt mutters something under his breath. "Kurt it was a joke honey I'm not about to make you sleep on the couch."

"Is that- acceptable?"

"What do you mean is it acceptable? We're not in school." You scoff.

"I just mean- we're- it's not traditional to-" Kurt stops when you lift a hand.

"All we're doing is sleeping. I promise not to jump your bones in the middle of the night." You tell him. He still seems nervous about to prospect but he lets the conversation drop there.

The rest of the evening he doesn't talk much, which is fine. You spend the evening reading Charles' provided file and strategizing for this mission. It looks like you're breaking into a Striker facility looking for information, unfortunately there's not much available in terms of schematics here.

You wake up before Kurt the next morning and are already sipping coffee when he shuffles into the kitchen.

"Good morning y/n." He says.

"Good morning Kurt. Would you like coffee?"

"Yes please."

"We'll start with observation. We don't have schematics for the building we're hitting so we need to map it out somehow." You tell him as you pour a cup off coffee and hand it to him.

"How will we do that?"

"Gonna test out a gizmo Charles packed in the jet. All we have to do, is get it inside." You say showing Kurt the tiny electronic.

"We have to get that inside?" Kurt's eyes narrow at the thing.

"Yep."

"But how are we going to get in?"

"Go through the giant doors and hope no one stops us." You shrug.

"You can't be serious."

"Only kind of. We don't need to be undetected really, we just have to make sure they don't notice this when they do detect us." You say.

"Okay." Kurt says.

"We'll take the snowmobile to the edge of trees and then hit the building from the side."

"I can teletransport us."

"Great, let's head out then." You say, placing your empty coffee mug in the sink and heading out. Kurt is quick to follow you and soon you're off. It takes quite a while to hit the edge of the trees, a couple of hours, but eventually you reach the building. You scope it out for a bit before locating a door that seems like your easiest chance for getting inside. It looks like some sort of service door and a quick glance tells you there aren't any cameras on the door.

"How do we get inside?" Kurt asks when you reach the door. You place your ear against it and luckily enough you catch the sound of footfalls that you're almost sure are headed this way.

"Someone's coming. Kurt I'm gonna kiss you okay." You warn him.

"Wha-" the door starts to open so you push him against the wall and press your lips against his. You pull Kurt's hands down to your waist with one hand while the other sits on his shoulder.

"Ugh gross." You hear from whoever's opened the door. "Hey, you two. This is private property. You can't be here." He says knocking on the wall by your head. You pull away from Kurt, feigning surprise.

"Oh shit- there are people in there?" You try to look inside over the guy's shoulder. He tries to block you. "I thought for sure this place was abandoned." You swing your elbow into his nose and grab the door from him pulling it forward into the back of his head, knocking him out.

"Let's go. See what we can check out while we plant this thing." You tell Kurt, walking inside. For the first few halls you walk down there's no sign of anyone. Then, you hear a pair of voices coming from a couple of halls away. You pull Kurt around a corner and press a finger to your lips.

"Someone's coming, wait here." You say. Kurt grabs your wrist when you turn away.

"What are you doing? You said someone's coming." He frowns, searching your face, for what? You're not sure.

"Just trust me. Find somewhere to stick this. I'll distract them." You say handing the little device to Kurt.

"But isn't that-"

"Hurry, Kurt." You say walking over to a big metal door that you're sure leads to whatever this place is really for. You bet if you had time you could get through it, but it'd be risky since you have no idea what's on the other side of it.

"Hey! You! Hands where we can see em!" A man shouts from behind you. You put your hands up near your head.

"Can you see them from here or would you like them higher?" You ask, spinning around to face your opponents.

"Don't move or we'll shoot." It's the same voice as before, it's coming from the short haired one on the left.

"Will you? That'd certainly make this a more interesting story." You smirk.

"Do not take another step!" The man on the right says.

"Or you'll shoot ya I heard you the first time. Although the more you say it the more it feels like a bluff."

"We aren't bluffing." The man on the left narrows his eyes at you.

"You look like you've never shot a gun in your life and you're holding that one so tightly I don't think you'd be able to hit me if you tried." You scoff at him. "You however look a little trigger happy. I bet your aim is pretty shit but at least you'll fire, maybe even knick me once if you shoot enough times." You address the other one.

"You really wanna test that theory?" The man on the right says.

"Do your worst." You say taking a step forward. Before either of them can do anything, you feel arms around your waist and if not for the blue color of them you'd have immediately flipped him but you can't even react. For several minutes the world flashes in and out too fast for you to process until eventually it stops and you realize you're at the edge of the treeline again. You stumble forward slightly when he lets you go.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"I'm fine. Did you place the thing?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go." You say getting on the snow mobile. Back at the cabin, you turn to Kurt before you enter.

"Why did you do that back there?" You ask.

"They were going to shoot you. I thought you were in danger." Kurt answers immediately.

"Yeah darling this isn't the circus. These missions are dangerous."

"Why do you do that?" He furrows his brow.

"Do what?"

"Darling, sweetheart, honey. Do these words not mean something- romantic?"

"I use them a lot just as part of my vocabulary." You shrug.

"And- earlier when you... kissed me?"

"It was a diversion. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable." You say.

"No it- I just haven't-" Kurt shakes his head.

"Don't tell me you've never kissed someone."

"I have! Just- not that way."

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"Can I- show you?" He sounds hesitant and he's barely looking at you.

"Sure."

"I have kissed- but only, like this." Kurt says and then kisses you. It's basically a peck honestly.

"Oh. Well- I'm going to ask something very personal, you don't have to answer but- I'd like to ask." 

"Go ahead." He nods.

"Have you- ever had sex before?" You ask. Kurt looks about as shocked as you expected him to be.

"I- no."

"Is that why you were being so weird about sharing a bed?" That's the thing you really wanna know, but  you figured one would explain the other.

"I was nervous." He says.

"Nervous?"

"Who wouldn't be nervous sharing a bed with such a beautiful woman." Kurt says.

"You shouldn't say things like that or I'll think you like me." You smile.

"Would it be bad? If I did?" He asks.

"Well not necessarily. Why? Do you?"

"I- I think so."

"You think so?" You step closer to him. "You don't sound too sure about that."

"I think you are gorgeous, but you are an enigma. I can never tell what you are thinking or what you will do next."

"Right now I'm thinking about kissing you again. Which I really want to do next, but not unless you tell me you want me to."

"Not as a diversion?"

"Not this time." You shake your head. Kurt hesitantly closes the gap between the two of you, kissing you with his hands on your hips. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, kissing him furiously. To his credit, Kurt is keeping up with you better than you expected. You pull away after some time to open the door to the cabin and pull him inside by his shirt, kissing him repeatedly as you guide him down the hall to the bedroom.

"Now I'm thinking about how far you'll let me take this because if you don't tell me to stop I might just eat you alive." You say pushing Kurt onto the bed. He blinks up at you with wide eyes.

"You don't mean that literally, do you?" He asks and you chuckle.

"No, not literally." You shake your head.

"Then, take this as far as you want."

"Now that's a dangerous precedent." You hum.

"I trust you." Kurt says.

"That's sweet, although you should be more careful about trusting people you've only known a couple of days. What if I break you?"

"Will you?"

"No, not today anyhow. It's only your first time so I'll be gentle with you." You say sitting next to him.

"I do not know what to do." Kurt whispers.

"Don't worry, I do." You say cupping his face and kissing him again. You let your hand trail down his body until your fingers skate over his buldge. Kurt jolts against your touch and you smile into the kiss. He's so cute.

You rub the palm of your hand over his hard dick, loving the way his breathing hitches from the friction as he squirms. His head drops to your shoulder with a shuddering moan. Part of you just wants to pull reactions from him like this but another, louder part of you is dying to feel him buried inside you. You slip your hand under the waistband of his pants and underwear, relishing in the feel of him hot and heavy when you wrap your fingers around his dick and hear his sharp intake of breath.

"I need you to take these off." You tell him and he quickly shucks off his pants and underwear.

You dip down and drag your tongue up the length of his dick, starting at the base and circling the tip. Kurt makes a strangled sound that morphs into a groan when you fully take him into your mouth. His hands curl tightly into the sheets as you bob your head up and down, sucking him off, enjoying the way he pants and hisses from the pleasure. You can tell he's trying not to jerk his hips.

"I- I don't think I can take-" Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and as much as you want to push him over the edge, you have no idea what his refractory period is and you'd be pretty bummed if he was down for the count before you got to ride him, so you take the warning and release him with a pop.

He lets out a relieved breath and tips his head back as he allows his body to relax.

"Still wanna know what I'm thinking?" You ask shoving his shoulder so he lays all the way back on the bed.

"Always." He huffs out.

"I can't wait to see the look on your face when I ride you." You tell him pulling your shirt over your head and dropping your pants.

"Oh." He breathes and you're not sure what's got him more tongue tied, your words or the fact that you're now naked in front of him.

You take his dick in your hand again as you straddle him and after taking a moment to line him up you sink down. You're so wet that even without preparing yourself, he manages to fit. You grind down slowly, adjusting to the stretch as you take more of him with each rotation of your hips.

"Heaven help me." He whispers once you're fully seated. An almost commical contrast to the explitive you let out at the same time. You place your hands firmly on his chest and set your rhythm, riding him furiously.

Kurt's mouth drops open and his eyes widen as you bounce up and down.

When you catch his hands clenching at his sides you place them on your hips, your pace barely faltering as he grips you tightly. You're sure those claws of his will leave marks at the rate but you really don't care. The feel of him sliding in and out of your wet heat is all you can focus on.

"Y/n, I cannot- it's too much, I'm going to-" Kurt's eyes squeeze shut again and his hold on you tightens somehow.

"It's okay Kurt, go ahead, cum for me." You pant out keeping your pace steady. A few more grinds and Kurt is spilling into you with a long groan and his pretty face all scrunched up. You ride him through it, enjoying the heat now coating your walls. When you're sure he's released every drop, you roll off of him and he grabs your wrist when you move to stand.

"Wait-"

"I'll be right back."

"No- you did not... finish." He says. It's not a question, it's an assertion and you wonder how he's so sure.

"Yeah I- I didn't wanna hurt you by continuing while you were- like sensitive."

"But you also need to- have one."

"I mean-"

"Can I taste you?" Kurt asks and you blink at him in shock. Given that his cum is literally leaking out of you right now you're surprised by the request. "Please, I want to."

"Alright." You say. Kurt pulls you down to sit on the bed and drops to his knees in front of you. It all happens very quickly, before you know it, his head is buried between your thighs. His first few tongue strokes are experimental, getting a feel for you in his mouth. But only the first few, after that he laps at your cunt like a man starved.

His tongue is everywhere, licking your clit, exploring your insides, pumping the muscle in and out and around. It's too much and not enough, it's as if he actually plans to devour you and he seems to watch for what gets the best reactions from you. When a specific flick of his tongue makes you tangle your fingers in his hair he does the maneuver again and again relishing in the way you pull at the strands every time. You grind against his mouth, chasing your orgasm with his tongue. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks on the bundle of nerves, pulling an actual squeal from you. And he keeps at it, adding his tongue in what is apparently a lethal combination of stimulation because it doesn't take long him to pull you over the edge with a loud moan.

It takes a few moments for you to catch your breath and Kurt watches you from the ground the entire time.

"Are you happy with yourself now?" You ask half jokingly, tugging him by the arm off of the floor.

"I like bringing you pleasure." He says.

"You are just too cute." You chuckle laying back.

"What happens now?" He asks following your lead and laying back across the bed.

"We do what we came here to do. Although I'm sure we'll have plenty of time for recreation while we're here." You turn to look at him.

"I meant when we leave. What happens between us? Do you leave the mansion again? Do we pretend this didn't happen?"

"I dunno. Charles likes to send me away for things. Maybe we can convince him to let you come with me." You shrug, turning your gaze back to the ceiling.

"What if he says no? When will I see you again? What do I do until then?"

"You've asked seven questions so far and not one of them has been 'will you go on a date with me'. You're jumping ahead don't you think?" You ask.

"A date?"

"Well yeah. I mean unless all you're thinking about is hooking up."

"No! I just- you seem to be gone a lot. I wasn't sure you would want to be... attached."

"Be the reason I stay. Or be the reason I come back. Or come with me. Anything, just tell me that's what you want." You sit up to look at him.

"More than anything." He says sitting up.

"Good. Then we'll sort out the rest later. For now let's just finish this mission. And then we can talk about that date."

"Okay." He nods and you giggle at how adorable the action is. You're sure this isn't what Charles had in mind when he assigned you to the newbie's first mission, but you'll still thank him when you get back anyway. 

***

[calisources]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different works of fiction and depict sensual, sexual tension between two people in different scenarios. There are some that are suggestive while others are more detail so this meme is nsft and usft, please tag accordingly. Mentions of jealousy, possessiveness, sex, fantasies are all here. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit.

I knew the first moment I saw him that it was going to be raw, it was going to be ugly, and I was going to enjoy every damn minute of it.

You're still looking.

You make it hard to look away.

I'm over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you asked me to, that’s not fair.

If you'd just man up and admit there's something between us, I would strip down to my skin so you could see every single inch of me.

How long are you going to make me wait?

How awfully presumptuous of you to think I'd let you.

You missed my arrogance almost as much as I missed your impudence, little one.

You said not to fall for you. Did you change your mind?

We both needed to blow off some steam, and we did, right?

They say the colour of a lady’s lips is an exact match to another region on the body?

You're too soft.

Can we go back to making out now?

You sound jealous.

Then tell me this is what you truly want. Swear you want this more than anything else and I'll never mention it again.

If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice.

Tell me how it's done. Do you think she'd like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply in to her eyes?

And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her?

You're wet, aren't you?

You drove me mad.

She asked me not to be gentle with her, either,I would have been gentle with you, though.

I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.

I'm all yours to look at, you know.

You need to let me go, darling, before we start something I intend to finish.

Feel free to touch, darling. It's all yours.

. . .I hate you.

Say it again.

Grind it. Nice and fine.

I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he'd give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.

Why shouldn't I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.

Am I supposed to deny, that I find you attractive?

Is that a challenge, Feyre?

Do you think it's fair that you have seen every inch of me, and I have seen none of you?

Move with me now.

Touch me anywhere you please.

I want you to make love to me.

Do you know what that truly means?

You do know? You know that I will be inside you and that I will move inside you, until we are both mad from pleasure?

I want you inside me.

You have three minutes to get ready now.

I did dream about you. I didn’t want to, but I did.

What was I doing in your dreams?

Someone is watching us through the window.

All the more reason to put on a good show.

You're not in a position to make demands.

The best things are found in the most secret places.

And you are a beautiful, sexy temptress who is about to be fucked by a man who wants her so desperately he's willing to do anything to have her.

When I'm with a woman, it's not me doing the begging.

You're rubbing yourself all over me. What did you think was going to happen?

I thought you were all about self-control.

I remember how powerful those thighs are.

You are more beautiful than I imagined.

And your skin... Christ, it shimmers like gold.

I'm naked underneath.

Tell me----did it get you off knowing I was watching?

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Please, don’t stop.

Oh, so I shouldn’t? That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it?

I am the cruelest man you will ever meet, but, I will make you feel so good, you will not care.

I’ve never been with a man before.

You do bad things to me, Carrie. Very bad things.

And you, Miss, are no lady.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Movie Week [review]

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Yandere Score: 8/10

Overall Score: 8/10

Fear does exactly what it's supposed to. Not perfectly by any means, but well enough that I don't mind spending an hour and a half in its world.

A very fun world too - cute fashion, a great score, pleasing cinematography and a male lead who slowly becomes more despicable the longer the film goes on. Alyssa Milano, Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon look incredible the entire movie. And I guess their acting isn't bad either.

We start off with a man out on a jog. And we know it's going to be a thriller because a) shaky cam and b) very dramatic music just two minutes in. Great start. After that, we're introduced to Nicole (Reese Witherspoon), a high schooler with a slightly strained relationship with her dad and teenage angst lite.

She's cute. The girl next door with a daddy's girl bracelet and a kid brother who loves her. If she didn't have the bad luck of running into a bad man, I'd say things would have worked out just dandy.

But no such luck. Not for you kid.

Enter David.

He walks on screen to audible screams from the audience (me). He's hot. And the way he's introduced is hot. Shady bar, music in the background, leather jacket delinquents playing pool. From the get go, he screams bad boy. Rubbing (read: jerking off) his pool cue - at hip height - while looking at our female lead? C'mon, that's too easy.

I won't go into detail, but they obviously end up in a relationship. And it's hot stuff. At one point, he has his hand up her her skirt while they're on a rollercoaster. Yeah, we all see the symbolism. Coming (down) must be pretty fun on a ride like that, huh Nic?

It's not great the entire movie - their first conversation is stilted and awkward, filled with clichés. But the build up in tension is what does it for me.

There are plenty of little things that tip you off from the get go. David isn't as nice as he seems, not by a long shot.

It starts with a few tense looks between him and Nicole's dad. Just a father being a bit picky, right? Nope. He turns back the office clock so he can have a little more time with Nicole before curfew. He flirts with her best friend. He tells Nicole to, "Get me a coke." Bossy. Commanding.

I'll be honest, if I didn't know the synopsis of the film, I'd say dear old dad was being overly protective. Nope. Those red flags are about as red as they can get.

When things start going off the rails, the movie handles it pretty well. The scenes are decently tense, even though they're missing that little bit of careful handling that would make them terrifying.

As a yandere, David does everything you'd expect. He's manipulative. He's violent. He doesn't know where to draw the line in anything. Oh, and he's hot. Did I mention that already?

He's a Levi's and t-shirt kind of guy, with a great car, a nice voice, and biceps you want to sink your teeth into. When it comes to deranged stalkers, you can do a LOT worse.

The third act is a ball of a time. There's room for it to have been a bit more tense - it suffers from being a little too short, the twists not having enough time to breathe. The pace doesn't feel quick in the so much happening, I'm at the edge of my seat sort of way, but in the oh no, we only have the budget for thirty more minutes of run time sort of way.

Still, it's very enjoyable. David says and does plenty of very yandere things. I'm absolutely stealing some of his lines.

In terms of style, the movie is a knockout. I think it's a big part of what carries my recommendation. The cinematography is really pleasing, with lots of reds and dark greens. Very 'Seattle on a rainy day.' The sound track is totally 90's, with a nice mix of rock, pop and indie. It gives the movie a sense of place and time that exponentially improves the story.

How does it hold up as a piece of yandere media? It doesn't do anything radical or new, but the classics it sticks to are done well enough that it's worth the watch.

Oh, and David is very hot. I don't know if I mentioned that. 

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Day 2 - Secret Obsession (2019)

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Day 4 - The Perfect Guy (2015)

Day 5 - The Boy Next Door (2015)

Day 6 - The Invisible Man (2020)

Day 7 - Til Death Do Us Part (2017)

[thisonehere]

Hey! Idk if you still take request, but I have one for you. I love your posts sm. Anyway, may I request some headcanons with the Lin kuei trio and Liu kang and how they would react to you kissing them on a mission to not get caught (like that scene in captain America: the winter soldier) while they actually have a crush on them? Thank you!

A/n: Okay, I'm back, and I'd love to! It's nice to do another Lin Kuei bros head canon. I swear to God these men are gonna put me in a mental asylum with how obsessed I am with them.

Tags: Request, Mortal Kombat, Mk1, Lin Kuai bros x readerp, GN reader, fluff

C/w: Allusions to murder, sloppy kissing, tsundere, PDA

Bi-Han

You've never been far from the Grandmaster's thoughts. He has always viewed in a favorable light, though he hardly ever showed it.

As far as you were concerned, you thought he hated you.

So it is a surprise when he chose you to come with him on this mission.

To pursue your target meant you had dawn normal clothes and go undercover.

Which causes you to end up at a mall while following them. It wasn't a problem for you, frankly you were excited at the chance to shop and enjoy the food court.

You follow your target the mall, dipping in and out of clothing departments and hiding in the electronics department.

You had to get them into a private place to get them.

It's tedious and annoying with how long it takes...for Bi-Han. You on the other hand take great joy looking around, admiring how clothes look on mannequins, staring at the endless rows of books, staring in awe of the endless option of the food court.

Much to Bi-Han's annoyance.

Bi-Han takes this mission much more seriously than you do, his stay on the target like a hawk, against your advice not to or else he'd risk looking suspicious.

But finally Bi-Han's constant staring pays off when he notices the target leaving to somewhere more private, a perfect place to get them.

Bi-Han grabs your arm and snatches you away from the food court, pulling you away from an unfinished cinnamon roll and drags to follow the target, on the escaladder.

You are just a few feet away from them, far enough to not look suspicious, but close enough to get a clear view of them.

And they you, something both quickly learn when they begin to turn their head to look back in your direction.

Knowing Bi-Han, you knew your Grandmaster would look the target dead in the eyes, basically telling the target that they were being followed. This would compromise the mission, so you act quickly.

Just as the target turned around and saw you, you turned to Bi-Han, grabbed him, and snatch him forward and kiss him.

Bi-Han doesn't respond at first as your lips crash against each other. But a moment later his arms snake their way around your waist and pulls you closer. He hungrily kissed you, making himself acquainted with your lips as well as your tongue.

Bi-Han's mind went silent as you kissed him and he you. Elder Gods knew he would fantasize about this, not exactly while on a mission, but he would be a fool if he didn't advantage of this.

You are so distracted with each other that you lose sight of your target.

"Keep moving, we can't lose them." He coldly grumbles as he jumps off the escaladder and angrily marches away, but saying another thing to you.

When things were all said and done, when the mission was finished, you felt an uneasy tension between you and the grandmaster.

"Grandmaster, about the...about the thing, I-" but Bi-Han interrupts you, yelling at you to be silent, making you feel even worse.

Later, you are in your room, replaying all the events that passed today. Bi-Han hasn't said a single thing to you since you returned from your, mission.

You felt your face flush as you think of the fact that you keep kissing your Grandmaster, you can't stop thinking about it.

Did he like it? Are you in trouble? Is he going to punish you?

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. You hastily open the door and find no one there. But at your feet you find a cinnamon roll just like the one you were eating at the mall, and a beg next to it filled with clothes and books you were looking at in the mall.

Surprised, you stare at it for a few moments before bringing it into your room.

You stare at it in surprise as you drop the things onto your desk.

Perhaps the Grandmaster was much more fond of you than you thought.

Kuai Liang

From the moment he saw you, Kuai Liang knew he was in love with you.

It's subtle, but you can tell with the way he would fall silent when you were in the room, or would

So it was quite the surprise when he insisted that you join him in this mission.

Kuai Liang notices your eyes light up when you say that the mission requires you to go to a mall. He thinks it's so cute, he feels his smile trying to find its way onto his face.

He forces a stern look on his face as he reminds you that you both need to stay focused, that the target was your main concern.

He is similar to Bi-Han in the way he stays in a constant state of vigilance. Following the target around, being sure to always have them in his sight.

But unlike his brother he lets loose a little.

He tries on hats and glasses, admiring himself in the mirror, admiring you as you flip through the clothes on the racks.

He grabs a book from the shelf of the bookstore and curiously flips through it.

He even buys both of you lunch at the food court as you wait for the target to be in a vulnerable position to strike.

While you enjoy your meal, Kuai notices that the target is getting away, down the escaladder.

Of course, the Ninja immediately springs to action, quietly excusing himself with an excuse that he had to use the bathroom. He saw you were having a good time and his didn't want ruin it.

He is light on his feet and as he pursues the target, purposefully waiting for a few more more to get on the escaladder before getting on to avoid suspicion.

The escaladder carries them closer and closer to the lower floor and Kuai's eyes never leave the target for a second.

He doesn't realize just how intense his gaze is, if the target turned around and saw him, it would be.

It's unfortunate then that the target almost immediately turned around. By the time they would turn around they would see Luai looking at them with intensity and they would quickly realize that they were being followed, ruining the mission.

Thankfully, you happened. You immediately knew what Kuai was doing and followed after him. He didn't notice that you were right behind him.

Acting quickly, you shift past Kuai onto the extra step of the escaladder in front of him, and you kiss him.

Kuai took a surprise at first. He froze. Just standing there as you kissed him. He felt your soft lips press up against him and he felt his brain melt.

Body responded for him, pressing himself closer to you as he hands grab you and pull you close.

You quickly get to the end of the escaladder and jump off, Kuai still looks at you in a state of shock.

"Come on, they're getting away!" You say as you quickly pursue the inspecting target.

Kyai Liang touched his lips as he processed what just happened. "I'm right behind you." A smirk spreads onto his face as he races after you.

Afterwards, when the deed is done. You and Kuai Liang have no choice but to go back to the Artika now that your mission is finished.

Your sadness about having to leave isn't lost on Kuai. He himself enjoyed his time with you.

After a brief moment of silence on the way back, you awkwardly apologize for kissing him to abruptly.

Kuai only smiles. "Don't be...ever." he says placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

"We should do it again some time." Your eyes widen at this. "The mall, I mean." It was obvious that Luai didn't mean just the mall.

With an innocent smile on his face, Kuai walks ahead of you. Leaving you behind with a stunned look on your face.

Tomas

Tomas has tried to get your attention for the longest, trying his best to impress you. Unfortunately, everything either came off as him just being nice to you are him.

Other than that though, you two were close.

So it was no surprise that he asked you to come with him.

You thought it was just another mission. A mission where you'd go to the mall your target was located at and 'get 'em'. Meanwhile Tonas saw this as a chance to have a good time with you like this was a date, maybe even confess how he feels.

He was so happy to see how excited you were at going to the mall, he himself was excited. He was as serious about this mission as Kuai, or Bi-Han, or any member of the Lin Kuei would. But even he liked a moment to relax and enjoy an experience.

Tomas especially loved the bookstore. He was practically glued to the comic book and manga sections. You two were so distracted that the target slipped out of your sight once in a while.

But Tomas wasn't worried, he was always good at hunting something or someone down. He found the target again and again, then you'd carry on with your shenanigans.

You were surprised with how lenient Tomas was with you. He let you try on clothes, look at the computer, he even bought things for you. You told him he didn't have to but he insisted.

Things were going quite well for you two. Until I finally felt the courage to express himself to you.

"So, Um, Y/n." You were at the food court, your target sat themselves down here to eat lunch, so you both say a few tables away. His eyes stayed glued to the table, too embarrassed. "There's a reason why I wanted you to come with me." You eagerly leaned in close to hear. He waits a few moments, unsure what to say next.

"Well, you see..." Suddenly, Tomas's eyes widen in horror as he looks at the target. The problem? This isn't your target, you've been following the wrong person. "We need to go. Now!" He races out of the food court. His eyes immediately spotting the target getting on the escaladder.

He races to the escaladder, you not being far behind. You both try to act casual as you step onto the moving stairs, but Tomas's sure you both accidentally got the target attention.

His fear is confirmed when the target turns their head to look behind them.

In seconds they'd see you two behind them and panic.

So you act quickly, grabbing Tomas and kissing him.

Tomas's mind goes numb as fireworks go off in his thoughts. His hands, unsure at first, travel across your body until one finds their way to the small of your back and other cradling the back of your head.

Once again, you both got distracted and the target got away.

You break away from the kiss and jump off the escaladder. "Come on, they're getting away." You say, trying not to scream.

Tomas merely dumbly nodded as he followed after you. "U-um, okay." He hopes there isn't too much blushing on his face.

Eventually, you get back on track and aquire your target and "deal with them".

"Listen, about the kiss...." You awkwardly start to say. You both had completed the mission and were back at the food court, resting before the long journey back to the Artika.

Tomas also avoided eye contact with, rather than paying attention to his tea than you. "Yeah...about that."

You apologize, hoping he wasn't too upset about kissing him without his consent. "No, no, it was fine, I enjoyed it." He quickly blurts out, finally looking at you.

You both now sit in silence afterwards. "W-We should go."

Both of you left the mall in an air of uncomfortable silence.

"I...liked it too." You awkwardly say, shortly interrupting the silence. Tomas gives you a surprised look as you quickly race ahead in embarrassment.

[awordsmith]

sit with me 𝜗𝜚 r. spencer

after having a multitude of chance encounters with Spencer–the one time he catches you crying, he obviously has to make your day better even if that merely means sitting with you in silence on a terrace.

who? spencer reid x unknown!reader when? s13 genre: fluff (comfort) content warning: designer!reader, house flooding-loss of found family-dead dad-distant mom, proofed as always, reid with warmth !! word count: 8.1k a/n: well, i honestly didn't know if i'd make it this far, but i suppose i fell in love with this short story anyway. . .enjoy !!

Nearly colliding with the security guard to your right, you checked your watch, then apologized. You were late–your boss was going to kill you. You didn’t have time to think of who you bumped into or who you pissed off. It wasn’t your fault, you’d defend, it was the idiot intern! Honestly, how did she not think the designs discarded by the head designer of your brand would still be significant?

It was the first thing you told everyone who stepped through those doors–come to you before throwing anything away. Ugh–and now you were going to be in more trouble than you’d ever been in before because no one under your supervision had ever effed up this hard!

You would have to fire her–your heart sank–would you even be able to fire people after this? Not if I don’t make it on the stupid plane! 

Your mind was running at the speed of who knew what momentum, “AH–” your head slammed into a body. You felt like crying, the sketchbook fell to the floor–you felt water pooling in your eyes. You took a breath, trying to keep it together. Your head tilted upward, and you took three deep breaths, swallowing the meltdown you wanted to have.

“Are you…okay?” You ignored whoever spoke, you just needed a second–just a second to yourself, to plan out different jobs you could apply for if you did get fired. “Uhm, hello?”

Angrily, your eyes pried open, “What? Can’t you see I’m in a midlife crisis?”

“I…” you turned away, ignoring the desperate regards of the stranger in front of you. Okay, let’s go. You spun around and meant to walk around the person who was still annoyingly in your way. You met his stare, he looked a bit uncomfortable and it took everything in you not to blow up in his face. “You dropped this…”

Your gaze dropped to the book in his hand, it hadn’t been damaged–thank God, tears sprang into your eyes again and you had to force them back into your body by fanning out your probably flustered face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, but you seem like you’re in a hurry,” he scratched the back of his head, “do you…need some water?”

You reevaluated the situation, apologizing would be the most logical thing to do, but–you checked your wrist watch– “I’m gonna be late!”

You snatched the sketch pad out of his hand–no longer hanging on the edge of a breakdown you didn’t have time for–and gripped your suitcase handle, “Thank you, stranger, and I’m sorry!”

Spencer swallowed, flexing the hand he’d held the sketch pad in. The woman–she’d looked familiar. He couldn’t quite place her, which was odd because Spencer could typically place anyone; perhaps he was still in shock from his back getting shanked by a head.

He watched the woman disappear, her red pumps click-clacking at an increased pace as she stormed through the crowds. A little smile fell to his lips, “That was…something…”

“Hey, Spencer, you ready?” Spencer’s mom walked out of the gift shop across from him.

“Yeah,” he grabbed his own luggage and began pulling it along, “come on, we can get food on the way home.”

“That sounds nice,” she smiled, patting, then rubbing his arm.

You, on the other hand, just made it onto the plane. You wanted to cry out in relief, but your mission wasn’t done. You had a stewardess put your things at the top of your seat in first class because you had to calm yourself before facing off with your boss, though you didn’t have much time.

You–again–lifted your head and closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing. You gripped the sketch pad in your hands and held it to your chest. You had done it. You had saved the day once again, because if you weren’t fixing your problems, you were fixing someone else's. Though you supposed that it just came with your position.

You were an assistant lead designer, and right above you was the star of it all–your boss. In your world, you were at the top, or rather right below it–but you were up there–and a lot of people hated you for it. Not just because of your age, but because you were good at your job.

You had decided from the moment you were offered the position that no one would take it away from you, and for that to never happen, nothing under your watch could ever go wrong; though your team had made some minor errors in the past, they were all quickly fixable and within the time limit you had given them.

This: Losing a sketchbook–this could never happen again. It was the first year you’d taken on an intern at the urging of your boss, typically before you hired someone, you put them through trial runs for minor products, and depending on how serious they took those jobs would give you an estimate on how well they would be at a full-time position within your brand.

You were always careful and only hired a handful of people at a time; your employees had a three-strike rule, you’d developed it in your first year running things. You had your small team that worked closely with you and your boss, but you also managed a larger team of executives for different branches of the brand. It was your job to oversee everything and everyone at all hours.

Your job was to make sure everything went smoothly and for the past ten years, you’d gotten pretty damn good at it–you were just glad you hadn’t blown it all now.

You pushed passed the curtains and stepped into first class, approaching your boss. She waved, her long, sleek mousy-brown hair was pinned back with bobby pins. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.” You chuckled nervously, “I should have known you wouldn’t let me down.

“Of course not, have you met me?” You joked, taking your seat.

“What’s that in your hands?”

“This? Oh, it’s the sketches you didn’t like. The new intern threw it away by accident.” You rolled your eyes, quoting the word accident with your hands.

“No?”

“Yes! I don’t even know how it got into her hands in the first place, I’ve told them a million and one times–”

She murmured your name, “You know what, it’s fine. You solved it, like you always do–why don’t we sit back and enjoy our flight? The Lord knows it’s going to be a long one.” She accepted a glass of wine from the stewardess passing by. 

You were on your way to Paris to design outfits for a new time-period show–well your boss was, but that was the good part about knowing someone for so long, they trusted you–and your boss always gave you a bit of room to work you magic–you were hoping to become her successor.

“You know what? You’re right.” Your hands wrapped around another glass–pleased that your job was still safe and very much yours. You cheered with her, forgetting all about the man you’d crashed into just moments prior.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stretched; your boss would stay in Paris for a few more days to relax, but your job was done, and you were set to go home–that had been yesterday. 

You collected your things with the help of the stewardess, you paused, her outfit–it crossed your mind a multitude of times that flight attendants had the most unique uniforms and their outfits had definitely been ones to which a variety of times across generations.

“Miss?” 

You dropped your hand, eyes refocusing on the eyes of the woman, “Oh, I am so sorry, but…” you bit your lip, wondering if you should ask. It’d make for one hell of a piece in a new line your boss had given you free rein on. “I’m sorry, but I have an odd question…”

“Oh…go on.” She was too nice.

“Well…do you need to fly anytime soon, or do you have some free time?”

“I’m…I think,” she glanced behind her, “I think I have some time.”

She looked young, definitely younger than you, but by how much you couldn’t be sure. “Then, would you mind modeling for me? I mean, of course you don’t have to, but your uniform…it’s… inspiring,” you knew that sounded incredibly weird, but it was the first word that came to mind.

She fiddled with her fingers, “Are you some kind of designer?”

You nearly scoffed, were you some kind of–you were one of the best designers in the world.

Okay, perhaps that was a stretch, but you worked for one of the best designers of all time and this year she was allowing you to craft your own line using all of her resources. It was the chance of a lifetime, and you couldn’t blow it.

“You could say that,” you settled for and slipped her a business card.

She stared at it, reading it over and over again. You watched realization wash over her–to say it didn’t fuel your pride would be a lie–she had a gorgeous figure and wouldn’t it just be the icing on the cake if she walked the runway with the outfit inspired by her old uniform?

You checked your watch, you needed to get home–you paused, pulling your phone out of your pocket when a notification came through–oh, this was not good. Your face soured. “Something wrong?” She frowned, tilting her head.

“Uh–just something from the office, listen,” you slipped your phone back into your pocket, “I have to go, but if you’re interested, you have my number and my email.”

You did your finest to stay composed as you exited the plane, and you were very graceful–if you do say so yourself–entering the airport, however, once inside, it was go time.

That notification hadn’t been the office, they weren’t expecting you back until tomorrow and though your employees knew they had to run everything by you, they also knew not to call you on your days off, especially when you just got back seeing as–oh there it is–you get jet lag.

You had to keep it together until you got in the cab, just as it had been last week, your right hand gripped the handle of your suitcase and hauled it down the hall. You had to find your duffle first! You headed for the baggage cart, eyes trailing the line. There! You ran for it– “OW–”

You whimpered. Why was this always happening to you? “I-I’m so sorry, but you–

“Me!?” You stepped back, angrily looking up at the man whose head you’d hit with your own.

“You…came out of nowhere!” He squeaked.

Hold on–you knew this guy. “It’s you!”

“It’s you!” His voice went up, as if he were more nervous than you were angry.

You huffed, but then your eyes caught on your dufflebag, escaping you. You ran for it, leaving your suitcase behind. The guy chased after you, “quit following me!”

“What!?” He screamed, shuddering under the gaze of the nearest security guard. You snatched up your simple, black bag, watching him reach for a very…unique bag–the one that had been sitting beside yours.

You paused, eyeing his frame, his eyebrows scrunched together, and in turn, you raised a single brow, “interesting taster….” you eyed him up and down, “didn’t take you for the type…”

He glanced down at the sparkly purple, unicorn-covered duffle. You snorted when he jumped back, “What? No–this, this isn’t–it’s…my friends.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, men in touch with their femininity is great, really…” you walked back over to your suitcase and settled the bag on top of it.

“It is!” He insisted, “I’m picking it up for her!”

“Uh huh,” you glanced at the clock on your phone again, sighing.

“Something wrong?” 

You shook your head, “It’s nothing I can’t fix.”

“Hmm.”

You made a face, “Did you just ‘hmm’ me?”

“What is that a bad thing?” He huffed a laugh.

Your eyes narrowed and for the first time, you took a moment to look–really look–at the stranger whom you seemingly kept crossing paths with. 

His hair was grown out, it looked soft to the touch, he had a bit of stubble, and his eyes–you shivered. You could get lost in those eyes. You didn’t want to think about why they seemed to hold so much and yet show so little. 

You ou forced yourself to look away, clearing your throat before saying, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Does it, Stranger?”

You could feel the heaviness of his gaze–as if someone had dropped hot coals in your stomach. Your cheeks darken–now you really had to avoid his eyes, he would know instantly, and though he couldn’t be much older than you, you didn’t want to feel embarrassed–you let your eyes drift back to his body slightly…AH, what were you doing!?

You shifted your stance and turned away from him completely, “well, it was uhm…nice bumping into you…again.” Not by choice, but hey?

He nodded, though you couldn’t see it, “Right, good bye… Stranger.”

“Good bye, Stranger.” For good.

“Oh, uhm,” he held up the bag, “it’s really not mine.”

You tried to hold in a snicker, but your trembling body gave you away, and you couldn’t help but turn around for a split second to give him a disbelieving look.

Spencer sighed as he watched the same woman walk away from him again. His eyes were drawn to her feet–well, her shoes, she was wearing those same red pumps he’d remembered her wearing that same day. They fit her well, “It’s not!”

Spencer sighed, jumping when he heard, “Spencer, you got my bag for me!”

Penelope came flying toward him in a jumble of colors, “h-hey,” he laughed, pulling her in for a hug, “how was the trip?” 

“I’ll tell you about it in the cab, come on,” she motioned him forward with her hand, though as much as he wanted to hear about Penelope's time in Europe, his mind drifted back to the stranger in the red pumps he kept bumping into.

Against his logic, he imagined what it would be like to meet her again, preferably somewhere less crowded, with less noise–somewhere they could have a real conversation where maybe they weren’t colliding into each other at every angle.

That was crazy, he knew the percentage of meeting a stranger twice was low, so the possibility of meeting them a third time? 

He decided he wouldn’t think about it…that was the best thing to do, seeing as he’d never see her again. Spencer knew he was a genius; people often told him so and referred to him as such, but Spencer also knew no person–matter how smart they were or how hard they tried–had any control over their subconscious.

You were a ball of giddiness up until you arrived at your apartment. You let out a whine as you stepped out of the cab. The landlord and a few of your neighbors were crowded in a circle out front. You noted Old Cat Man and Mean Rich Lady, with a grimace, you approached them, your shoes clicking and clacking on the stony pavement.

“It’s true then, you weren’t messing with me?”

Your landlord turned toward you, signing, “I’m sorry, I just got the call this morning, the entire thing is flooded.”

“So there’s absolutely no way I can get my things?”

“I’m so sorry,” he shook his head.

“Speak for yourself, I’m going back in there.” Mean Rich Lady spat, you rolled your eyes.

“Always looking to pick a fight.”

“Come on, you two! Don’t argue at a time like this,” Old Cat Man intervened, holding his precious ball of fur.

You grinned at it, your voice going high, “Aww, aren’t you just a cute little thing, Claude!” Old Cat Man stretched out his arms. You took up Claude and began petting him, turning back to your landlord after Mean Rich Lady harumphed.

“Are we at least getting compensated?” One of your neighbors–she lived on the first floor with her son, who was more than likely at school right now–asked. 

A few others began agreeing with her. Your landlord tried to calm everyone down, saying he would talk to the owners about it. Of course, you wanted to know when that would be. This was insane. How does this even happen? It seemed like your days went from worse to good to amazing to good to horrible!

You felt like screaming into a black hole, and though you would settle for a pillow, you couldn’t because your things were inside the flooded complex! You began texting your right-hand assistant, you were more than likely not going to be heading into work tomorrow.

Two days later, you were exiting a cab and standing across the street from your new possible home. The owners of your old complex had assured your landlord and the rest of their inhabitants that they were going to compensate everyone with a hefty settlement.

All your things–your clothing, your furniture, your bedding, your paintings–did they know how much you’d spent at the auction in New York for that one-of-a-kind Marcel–Béronneau? You had cried several times the day before, mostly about that painting. It was beautiful, but more importantly, the most expensive thing you owned!

Needless to say, their settlement with you was well over what you had spent on Ondine. Now, you were staying at a 5-star hotel with a bit of the settlement as you scoured for a new place.

You smiled, looking up at the complex–it was more of a small neighborhood, gated and secure. You crossed the street, passing folks who looked well enough. A doorman undid a red rope and let you through the doors.

He was dressed in what at first appeared to be modest clothing–but you’d know that uniform anywhere–you’d helped design it. Your red pumps clicked across the man-made gray wood flooring. A backless couch sat in front of the doors against the matching gray walls. It took on a shade darker than everything else, though, and looked incredibly comfortable with those three small throw pillows–but that wasn’t what you were here to study.

“Hello, can I help you?” The receptionist smiled. He was dressed as well as the doorman, you admired the uniform appreciatively. 

You had to wash and rewear the clothes you’d had in your suitcase; you wouldn’t have minded if they were casual work clothes, but you worked in the fashion industry, not to mention you had packed for Spring in Paris. You looked pretty idiotic in a raincoat, but it was the only jacket you had unless you wanted to overheat in your Saint Laurent coat.

Needless to say, your outfits weren’t…tame. You’d been trying to do your best to stay up with work while trying to rebuild your life–not your best moments, oh to be sure–and it left you with no time to go shopping. You needed a permanent place now. You were trying to fix everything within a few days, and still your team needed you. So far, none of the apartments had yet grabbed your eye, you were hoping this would be your final destination and not just another pitstop.

“Yes, I have an appointment with a woman…sorry her name slips my mind at the moment…I’m looking at the latest apartment on the 4th floor?”

“Ah,” he nodded, typing into his computer, “yes, of course, she said you would be coming in–so I’ve been expecting you,” he flashed a friendly smile, “I’ll call her down right away–” he picked up a black office phone and began dialing. 

“Thank you, I can go wait over there,” you motioned toward the couch.

He nodded and covered the phone with his hand, “if theres anything you need–anythign at all, just ask me.”

Genuine happiness lifted your mood, “thank you so much!” You spun around and headed back toward the couch, deciding to answer a few emails to pass the time, then–as promised–the leasing agent you were meeting with stepped out of the elevator almost five minutes later.

You shook hands and introduced yourself, expressing how ready you were to find a home because of what had happened. “I know the feeling.” She said, clicking the 4th-floor button on the elevator.

“You’ve had your house flooded while you were on vacation before?” Your eyebrows raised.

She laughed, “Oh no, but my ex-husband had his apartment flooded just last year. I offered to let him stay with me,” she waved her hand, showing off the newly attached ring. Hmm, it looked brand new. “But he said it’d be awkward with you know...”

“No, but I wish I did,” you joked, “may I?”

“Uh, sure,” she held out her hand. You inspected the ring closely, but you didn’t have great light, though something about it–perhaps it was a gut feeling, you could tell it was real. He must have had money if he was willing to spend over 5k on an engagement ring.

You shook your head, “It’s darling.”

Her tanned face turned a bit red, “Thank you, he let me pick it out.”

And courteous, God, when were you going to find a man like that? You sighed, eyes falling to her face once more, she was around your age, you wondered how long her last marriage was, and how old she married. A soft frown fell to your lips, thinking of your situation compared to others your age, you weren’t doing too well in the love department. 

No, it doesn’t matter, marriage wasn’t for you. You knew that….but it did bother you, something heavy sat within your chest…something like… regret.

A sigh escaped you, and you shook your head. Right now, you needed to focus on getting a new place so you could begin moving things in, you missed sleeping in your own bed, though that bed was likely still incredibly soaked in some dumpyard right about now.

“Wait, so–let me get this straight–Matt held his hand up, “you keep bumping into the same gorgeous woman with these red heels and…what? You haven’t asked her out?”

“It’s not that simple,” Spencer huffed, “she’s…seems…I don’t know.”

“And you didn’t get a good look at her?” Luke turned to Penelope.

“I–I didn’t even know there was a her! Not until this one,” she smacked Spencer, who winced, “told me in the car!”

“Eh–to be fair, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” He scratched the nape of his neck.

“Oh. My. God.” She threw her hands up, then lowered her head and whined, “You’re a lost cause.”

“This is great,” Luke laughed.

“What are we talking about?” JJ seated herself on top of Spencer’s desk. He glanced at her, but it was Matt who answered.

“Spencer met this girl at the airport–”

“–twice–” Luke added.

“And he didn’t ask her out.”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, seemingly trying to brush it off.

“Wha–I wouldn’t call it nothing!” Penelope squeaked.

“I’d call it fate.” Luke’s amusement didn’t escape Spencer.

“Yeah right,” he snorted, averting his gaze to the floor, the image of her red pumps coming running through his head. They drew his attention–he’d fallen asleep the past two nights at the memory of them shuffling away from him. He’d even had a miniscule daydream of meeting that woman again–but that was delusional, even for Spencer. “I don’t even know her name.”

“Well then, get her name, and then do something with it.” Matt egged.

“What like…ask her out?”

“Uh…yeah,” the group laughed at Luke’s comedic timing; Spencer was the only one who stayed silent.

“It��s unlikely I’m ever going to see her again. The probability–”

“–with the streak you have going on?” Emily walked over with her cup, her nose scrunched and her lips pressed together, “I think you’re gonna see her again… Sorry,” she shrugged, “I was eavesdropping.”

Spencer didn’t know about that. He didn’t have any plans at the airport, and it was unlikely she stayed in one place for long; if his memory served correctly, she’d been in a rush both times they’d bumped–or rather crashed–into each other.

He let out an exasperated sigh, it was bothering him a bit. She was quite the character. Slowly, a small smile developed. He wondered what he would say if he bumped into her again–preferably not in an airport with so much noise.

Though he knew wishing for something like that was dumb and that was not how the world worked–and he couldn’t very well go to the airport just to wait to bump into her. Firstly, that’d be weird. Secondly, Spencer didn’t have the time, “Alright, let’s go, we have a case.” Emily chirped.

Of course, they did–but Spencer wasn’t complaining, he just couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head, and he hoped it wouldn’t tarnish the way his brain worked.

Spencer huffed a sigh, checking the time on his phone, he was almost home–the rest of the team had gone for drinks, but he didn’t feel like it tonight. It’d been three days, and granted he’d been in another state, but he’d half-expect to bump into her even then.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, pausing when his stomach growled. He snorted when he looked to his right, catching sight of a convenience store. It was late and a cab had dropped him off about a mile from his complex; he’d wanted to walk. The night was warmer than usual, though that was to be expected; it was Spring, and April was just next week.

He glanced once more at the convenience store, wondering if he should just brave the rest of the journey home. Spencer's breath caught in his throat–his eyes tracked red pumps through the blurry store window, he’d know those shoes anywhere.

He didn’t even think to hesitate before pulling open the door, the blue windchimes above it whistling in the slight breeze. The store was quiet and the lights were dim. There was no one at the counter, but he heard her shoes clicking across the old tile floors.

He followed the sound, rounding a large corner, and there she was, eyeing up the last chillidog, her mouth visibly watered, and Spencer had to turn around before he laughed at her outright and she took offense. She noticed him anyway, stumbling back at the sight.

“You!” She jabbed a finger toward him.

A cheeky smile tugged at his mouth, the murky glow of the shop blinding him in his tiredness, “me!” he threw his hands up in mock cheer.

She rolled her eyes, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, he took in her fancy clothes, raising a brow at her feet, “are those the only pair of shoes you own?”

She glanced down, wincing. “It’s a long story, but I’m working on reestablishing my footwear.”

He nodded, wondering how to continue the conversation without sounding awkward. “So…you live around here?”

“Not yet,” she smiled, “but I just put a down payment on a pretty nice apartment.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “why the sudden move?” Was that a creepy thing to ask? He didn’t think so.

“Well,” she grabbed the chillidog and brought it to the counter. Spencer, on instinct, grabbed the first thing he saw, an egg salad sandwich. It wasn’t the best thing he could eat, but then again, he wasn’t in prison anymore, and anything was better than prison food. “It’s kind of the same explanation for my particular choice in shoes these days.”

Spencer’s mind went through a billion possibilities as she paid for her food with a cashier that seemed to materialize behind the counter. “Did all of your things get stolen?” He took in her appearance once more–maybe she was some super-rich lady he’d seen in one of JJ's gossip magazines.

Thanking the cashier for his change and slipping it into his satchel, Spencer turned toward the nameless woman again. “I guess you could say that,” she wagged a finger, “if you count water as the thief.”

His eyes widned, “I’m sorry, that sucks.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “what are you gonna do? On the bright side, my apartment isn’t too far from my job and it’s really nice–it was the last one on the listing, I’m glad I snatched it up.”

“Huh,” he sucked on his cheek, following her out of the store, her shoes drawing his attention as they made a sound he didn’t know how to describe other than relaxing. “What’s the name of the complex?”

She threw him a long look that said “okay stalker”, but he could tell she was definitely just teasing. “It’s actually,” she said, pointing across the street, “that one.” 

Fire lit up Spencer’s skin. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” she nodded, “but the Airbnb I’m staying at until the flat is ready for me to move in is this way,” she jabbed a finger in the opposite direction.

Spencer frowned. It was late, and though it didn’t feel like a scary night, he felt he shouldn’t let her walk alone. “You okay walking back by yourself?”

He didn’t know why he expected her to say no; of course, she would say yes, she’d feel awkward about it. And isn’t this how the start of every serial killer flick began? Not to mention the actual stories that started like this. Spencer pursed his lips, not wanting to be pushy, but also not wanting to let her go. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind.” If she said no this time, he would accept it.

However, this time, she said, “You know what? Why not?” Relief flooded his system, “as long as you’re not a serial killer of anything.”

Spencer nearly choked on his one saliva, “No–no, of course not!” He didn’t know if he sounded or looked convincing enough, and upon thinking that, he wanted to claw his eyes out because isn’t that exactly what a serial killer would be worried about?

Spencer walked her to her Airbnb, doing his absolute best not to give off creepy-stalker-killer vibes. He went on a tangent about random facts that came to his mind. In between his thoughts and rambling, he noted the subtle way in which he found her addicting.

She was beautiful, but it was mostly the way she asked questions or asked him to specify something more rather than shutting him down.

“Uhm, I thought I should let you know,” he paused just before she unlocked the door. That complex you’re moving into: I live there.”

A small grin floated around her face, “I figured.” Spencer didn’t get much of a chance to reply as his mind went blank, “So, maybe…” She looked away, and Spencer could see the dilemma working its way around her mind.

He pretended to be patient. He didn’t want to scare her off into changing her mind. 

She took a breath and slid her phone from her pants pocket. Spencer watched as she typed in her password; his eyebrows shot up when she spun the phone toward his face. A white screen with a set of numbers at the bottom, “Do you think I could get your number…” Her hand trembled, and Spencer thought it was cute. “You know, since we’re going to be neighbors and all,” it was an excuse; he flushed at her nervousness.

Though the number of girls that approached him had grown steadily over the years, he still grew slightly awkward when someone as pretty looked nervous around him. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze, “Yeah, sure, if we’re going to see each other again anyway.”

He took her phone and typed in his number, noting the way his hands shook–gosh, was he sweating? He handed her phone back, “Uhm, I’m — by the way…”

“Spencer,” he murmured, taking a step back.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Spencer.” Her genuine smile had Spencer’s heart leaping in his chest. “And…” she glanced away, “…sorry about the times before, I wasn’t…that isn’t me, the first time I was freaking because my intern had tossed a very important sketchbook and I aomsot missed the plane because of it–the second time–”

Spencer held up his hand, “You don’t have to explain yourself…really–I–” he stuffed his hands in his pockets and reassessed her, “I believe you.”

She let out a sigh in what seemed like relief. “Alright, then,” she stuck out her hand, “thank you for walking me home–kind of.” She glanced at the Airbnb.

“No problem,” Spencer smiled. With one last wave goodbye, she spun around, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. She’s…Spencer chuckled at himself shook his head, he didn’t want to analyze and break down her character. He felt he should get to know her like a normal person would, if they were going to be neighbors after all. 

He wondered what his welcome gift should be. Maybe a new pair of shoes?

The elevator dinged before its doors opened. Today was Move-In Day; you texted Spencer about it, but he hadn’t responded. It plagued you–being left on delivery. You tried not to let it ruin your mood, but you couldn’t help checking your phone every five minutes to see if he had responded.

You instructed two of the moving professionals you’d hired to carry the larger boxes up to your space as you took on the lighter and fragile boxes–too cautious to allow anyone else to carry them. They led you into the hallways, but you paused halfway down the floor.

They halted and glanced back questingly, “Oh, you’re fine, I just need to respond to this,” you waved your free hand in front of you.

With a tight nod, they proceeded down the hall. You crouched, setting the box beside your feet and pulling out your phone. Your heart shot through your chest, and electricity ran up your spine, which was incredibly childish considering you were nearing 30–but regardless, you clicked open the message, heat rushing to your cheeks as your eyes took in Spencer's reply.

Happy Move-In Day! I’ll be home later tonight, so I can stop by if you want.

Yes! Yes! Yes! “Eeeeeee,” your squeal bounced off the walls, and a flush darkened your cheeks. 

I’d love that, actually!

His reply was immediate, Great see you later tonight!

You slid your phone back in your pocket and stood. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took a calming breath, then you shook your body, arms flailing, an attempt to cast away all the jitters running through your nervous system.

Five minutes later, you were heading down the hall again, box in hand. You kicked the slightly ajar door further open. “There you are.” One of the movers stepped forward. You set the box on the floor, eyes drifting toward the beautiful beige box on the bar table, a small, cremé envelope tucked snugly between the red, silk bow. “This was sitting at the front door when we arrived.”

You headed for it, your lips pursing, you’d only told one person your new apartment number. The envelope was hard; it looked expensive, like the invitations your boss received for fashion shows and galas.

To: —

From: Stranger

The bold, calligraphy looked handwritten. You ripped open the box you’d been carrying and yanked out your letter opener, peeling the envelope open swiftly. The movers headed back out, saying they’d be back up with more boxes. 

You took a seat in one of the stools and pulled out the decorative paper, setting the envelope and letter opener aside.

Dear, — 

I know you’re going to laugh at this, but that’s the point, I hope it makes having to move a bit better

- S. Reid

You set the letter aside and grabbed your phone again, your fingers flying across the keyboard. You hit send, watching the message, your bottom lip between your teeth.

The ribbon came undone with a simple tug, the box lifted easily, and the glittery paper peeled back with no trouble at all. Your eyes caught on the shoes, wine red ballet flats–another, shorter note inside.

I know how much you like this color.

They were gorgeous–but you were confused. The buds of your fingers trailed over the brown leather inside the shoe, finding the size–how did he know? Stalker. You snickered at the thought. He probably estimated or something.

Spencer rushed home. He wanted to see her.

After the text she’d sent him, his stomach felt lighter, and he felt like he might throw up on the jet ride back. Rossi had said it was butterflies, but Alvez shook his head, claiming men don’t get butterflies, they get sucker-punched, but Spencer hadn’t known if either of them was right.

The best way he could describe how he felt was sick–but sick with happiness, not disease. It was illogical for someone to be so excited to see another person–a person whom they’d only had three encounters with, but something in Spencer felt a pull, a tug. He wondered if he’d never bumped into her–or rather if she’d never bulldozed him down at the airport, would they have met another way?

Perhaps, rather than noting her red heels, his hunger would have gotten the better of him, and he would have bumped into her for the first time in the convenience store, or maybe they would have met in the elevator of the complex they now both lived in. Spencer didn’t believe in soulmates; he loved the idea of it, and he could discuss theories of the red string theory just as much as he could any other philosopher's work, but this was…he didn’t know what.

He could explain scientific and mathematical equations, he could explain why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west; he could even explain the meaning behind some of the most intricate literature, but he could not explain why he felt this pull toward her.

Coconut wafted through his nostrils, but he paid the air freshener the lobby's staff had just replaced not much mind, his thoughts competing against his heart to see which could break him first. He loosened his tie, he would drop his stuff off at his apartment first, then head straight to her floor. She lived on the last floor, Room 40.

It felt like an eternity, but he wanted to look and smell his best, so doing what he’d never thought to do–ever–he unboxed the cologne Morgan had gifted him winters ago, and spritzed it around him twice. He coughed and waved his hand away, but as the smell flooded him, it was strong but subtle.

He hummed, checking the bottle, not bad, Morgan.

Seconds later, he was out the door and chasing down the elevator.

There was this sudden realization. You would no longer get into fights with the mean, old, rich lady from down the hall. You would never pet the cat, the calm old man let out every once in a while. You would never wake up in the middle of the night to classical music because the couple next door loved to relive their first dance at 3 in the morning.

As much as you bickered with he old lady and cursed the couple for choosing such an early hour, you were sad to know you’d never see them again. You thought of your downstairs neighbor's boy, whom you all took turns watching when his mother had work.

It had become somewhat of a routine for you, somewhat like a family–and the holidays you’d shared with them–even though Mean Rich Lady always nagged at your cooking, you had come to see them as family.

This was your first night in a new palace, and you were alone. No old lady to pick a fight with, no couple to force you awake, and no old man with a cat to pet. You hadn’t even said goodbye, you’d just…left.

Tears fell with a single breath. You felt enclosed, and you had to go somewhere to breathe. You thought to call one of them, but they were probably doing their own things, though it just felt wrong to be somewhere they weren’t. For years, they annoyed and loved you, despite your flaws and despite theirs, you had grown attached to their comforting smiles and manners.

You slipped on the new flats–you felt sick to your stomach, like you were going to puke. You wanted to be held, you wanted to cry until firm arms wrapped around you and hot breaths hit your neck, until a murmur whispered against your ear that it was okay and that you were an adult and could handle this.

You thought to call your mother, but she was no doubt asleep, your father had passed a few years ago–in fact that had been the last time you’d seen your mother, you texted her sometimes, but waking her up in the middle of the night seemed…foreign to the distant relationship you had grown to know.

The cool breeze hit your skin as you burst through the terrace door. City lights pulled you toward the shoulder; it was all concrete, and there were a few chairs spread out across and a single table. A new, silver barbecue sat in the corner, a charcoal bag leaned against it, the top slightly folded, indicating its use.

You perched on the shoulder of the terrace, overlooking the city, your eyes snagged on the center of the landscape, where most of the lights were brighter. You’d calmed down to a sniffle when a creak sounded, your head jerked back toward the door, hoping there were no serial killers amongst your new neighbors.

There was nothing, you shivered, another wave of sadness coming over you. Perhaps you just needed a good cry, your anxiety and frustration had been pent up for almost a week now, dealing with coming back from a wonderful trip in Paris to your apartment and almost every single belonging drenched beyond repair.

Your mind had been running at a million miles per second, trying to figure out what you were going to do within the three-day grace period you’d given yourself. Not to mention the new intern stresser right before heading to Paris–you were almost positive you weren’t going to make it on that plane–but it seemed God had bestowed his hand upon you, giving you the most unexpected angel.

Spencer freaked–he was nervous. He knew he wanted to go back out there and comfort her, but as he bit his thumb and paced back and forth in front of the door, knowing she was just on the other side had his stomach in a know. A feeling crept into his stomach; it just didn’t feel like enough.

He snatched his phone from his pocket and typed out a quick message to Penelope, and seconds later Luke was calling him.

“Go out there!” Luke shouted into Spencer's ear, which he instantly regretted positioning close to his ear.

“Be kind,” Lisa seemed to murmur over him.

“I know–” he squeaked, cheeks flushing, “but I don’t–how do I–”

“Just be yourself–what? No–” the last part sounded like it wasn’t meant for Spencer–so he chose to ignore it.

“Okay, but what should I say? She sounded really upset–?”

“Ugh,” Luke’s heavy sigh, “Lisa–”

Lisa’s voice broke through the phone, and it sounded like she was walking, “Don’t go anywhere, Spencer,” she huffed, keys jangling in the back as a door slammed shut, “ I’m bringing you flowers.”

“Flowers?” His eyebrows shot up, and he glanced back at the door as if she might have heard him.

“Trust me, flowers cheer anyone up.” She assured.

Luke took the phone back, the sound of a car starting in the background, “Meet us in front of your apartment; five minutes.”

The line went dead, and Spencer’s breath hitched. He swallowed and stuck a finger in his shirt, tugging it outward, letting the air cool his sweaty limbs. Admittedly, he should have taken a shower first, but he was too…exactic–okay, he needed to go take a shower.

Luke and Lisa raced through the city; apparently, Lisa knew this incredible 24/7 florist. “Are you sure about this?”

Luke turned toward his girlfriend, “Yes!” her voice pitched and she smacked his arm, “Come on Luke, you’re telling me you’ve never given someone flowers?”

“No–that’s not,” he coughed, rearranging his hands on the wheels, “no, look okay–I just–” he cut himself off, watching her face, her kind, caring, beautiful face. He shifted his focus back onto the road, “left or right?”

Lisa snickered, she she took his hand in hers, leaning forward to see the street sign, “straight, turn left at the next light.

You pulled out your phone, recalling how Spencer had said he’d wanted to meet with you–perhaps you could reschedule, you didn’t want to burden him with the responsibility of consoling you.

Huh, that was weird, you checked the time, Spencer had sent a message that you must’ve missed almost an hour ago, it read

On my way home, see you in a bit!

A frown tugged at your lips, your gaze drifted toward the terrace’s entrance. Hmm. 

You typed out a message, and after hesitating a moment, hit send.

I’m on the terrace 

You began wiping your tears, accepting that he might have seen you weren’t home, saw his text unanswered, and went back to his palace. He’d been gone a few days for work, he was probably tired. 

Your face scrunched together even as you tried to suppress the tears–at this point, you weren’t sure what you were crying about anymore; you were just crying.

Your body jerked, and your breath caught in your throat as the terrace door creaked open–revealing a very nervous, very handsome Spencer Reid. As he approached your posture straightened, you fully turned toward him, your knees the same height as his stomach.

“Hey,” you glanced away, trying to calm yourself. You wiped your tears, trying to remain tranquil, pretending like you weren’t just crying. “Are you okay?”

Your lip wobbled, slowly, you lifted your face. He was leaning his elbows on the wall beside you, your eyes drifted down his arms, gosh he smelled good. “I think so…at least I’m trying to be.” You murmured.

“We can talk about it, if you want?” He tried reading your eyes, but he couldn’t. For the first time, Spencer could not analyze a person even thought he so desperatley wished to. “Or we can sit in silence,” he suggested after he realized you’d turned away.

You nodded, your eyes on the lights in front of you. He smiled, nudging you with the bouquet. “What are those for?” You mumbled, palming a blossom, the petals were soft, and you noted the slight blush color of them, “pink roses?”

“The technical term for them is floribundas,” he slid them between the two of you and fingered a petal, “but because floribundas are a variety of different roses, this particular flower is referred to as the candy cane cocktail rose or rosa candy cane.”

You nodded, “They’re gorgeous, do you know what feeling they represent?”

You watched his eyes widen, he opened his mouth before his smile could fully form, “Floribundas can symbolize joy, happiness, and/or beauty. The name floribunda derives from the Latin word “floribundus,” meaning “full of flowers,” which funnily enough aptly describes their bushy growth and abundant clusters of blooms.”

“That’s so sweet,” you smiled, poking him, “thank you–I needed this, I could practically kiss you right now.” He’d taken your mind off everything that might have been plaguing your mind, and now all you could think about were floribundas and the origin of their name.

A sigh fell from your throat and you smiled up at him, frowning when you noted his flushed cheeks.

You bit your bottom lip to keep from smiling, finding the blue and red hues of nightlife before the two of you incredibly cute on him. “I’ll settle for a hug.” You held open your arms.

Spencer swallowed, his eyes tracking down your form, his eyes flashed when he caught the shoes you wore. His lips pursed, and he turned toward you completely. You held your breath as he stepped between your legs, the bouquet momentarily forgotten.

You pulled him closer when his arms tightened around your back. He smelled delectable, but of course you couldn’t just say that, so instead you said, “You smell good.” He leaned back a bit, his frame hovering above yours. Your gaze fell to his lips briefly, but for fear of making him feel weird, you turned your eyes elsewhere. “Thank you again for–”

His breath coated your mouth, you found his stare once more, your breath catching at the sudden warmth his body gave off. “Actually, I’d really like to kiss you too.”

a/n: rollercoaster [bleachers] and willow [taylor swift]

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody @kennedy-brooke @maisyyyyyy

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 13)

This outfit was stiff. Really, really stiff. And it wasn't in the colours that you liked. But it was for a gala with your family, the first one where you had been allowed to come with them instead of being left at home. Everyone was wearing matching outfits to be cohesive. Damian looked at you with satisfaction.

"About time you came with us. You're going to be the centre of attention," he said. "Nothing less befitting of a Wayne."

"Really?" You looked at yourself in the mirror. "I'm worried that they'll all stare at me."

"Your family will protect you, Y/N. Have faith in us," Damian said. It took a lot for you to not burst out laughing. Sure, they'd protect you. The only thing the Wayne family had shielded you from was happiness and familial love. But you smiled a small, strange little smile and buttoned up your outfit.

When you got into the car, Dick grabbed you and dropped you into the seat next to him. "Stay close to me, baby bird, the first gala is always the worst one," he soothed.

"So I've heard," you said, curiously.

The gala took place in a swanky country club that nearly glittered as you stood in front of it. Everyone looked so fancy.

And they were all looking at you.

Dick and Jason stayed on either side of you, frogmarching you in. "Stuck-up snobs," Jason muttered under his breath. "If they're mean to you, you tell us. Tell. Us."

"Yes, Jason," you say, knees buckling.

The staring intensified once you were inside. "What do I do?" you hissed to Bruce.

"Socialise," Bruce said. "Don't worry, you'll be with me. I'm going to introduce you to some of my colleagues." With a tug, you were taken to a group of disinterested socialites. "Irene, Derek, how good to see you. Meet my second-youngest, Y/N Wayne."

"Good evening," you say, staring up at them. "This is my first ever gala, so I'm sorry if I mess things up."

"Goodness, you're adorable!" a lady gasped. "Where has Bruce been hiding you all this time?"

"Wayne Manor," you said. They laughed like you were joking. You weren't.

"It's been so difficult adjusting Y/N to family outings, but they seem to be getting it really quickly," Bruce said, as the adoring smiles became grimaces of annoyance towards him.

"Well, I've never been on a family outing before," you say, with all honesty. "Normally, I just got left at home."

"Bruce left a child unattended?" someone muttered.

"Alfred was with them the whole time," Bruce hurriedly insisted. "They were never in any danger."

"I had such a nice time with Alfred. I learned how to bake and sew and about the monarchy!" you said, hoping that it would make things better and people would stop pitying you.

It didn't work.

"Oh, you sweet angel. I wouldn't mind adopting you myself," one woman said. "Oh, just look at those eyes!"

You felt your hair gently caressed, your hands held, your cheeks pinched. "What's happening?" you asked, but you were only met with more cooing. You were everybody's favourite now.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please," the organiser said. "Thank you all for coming. In light of recent events, we'd like to give a warm welcome to Y/N Wayne at their first ever gala. It's about time that we were introduced to you." The crowd applauded, but all you could do was shrink into yourself.

"They're accepting them. This is such a relief," Bruce said.

"We were all following your story on the news, and it really hit us where it hurt. Most of us are parents ourselves, and we would have been besides ourselves with worry if that had been our child," the host continued. "Your remarkable case had influenced this year's charitable cause."

"What charitable cause?" you dared to ask.

"Bruce Wayne's vasectomy fund."

The assembled members burst into laughter, while you stood there, confused. "How is this a charitable cause?" you asked.

"Well, after the atrocious job of parenting he's done with you, I'd say he needs this," the host said.

"Oh, great. They've become the butt of a cruel joke," Damian said.

"No, Damian. We've become the butt of a joke," Jason clarified. "Y/N's the only one that will escape unscathed. They love them. They're Gotham's favourite."

"I'm very sorry, everyone, but I don't quite understand the point of this," you said. "I was always under the impression that my biological father was a beloved figure of Gotham due to all his charity work."

An awkward silence settled over the room. "What exactly are you saying, Y/N?"

"I'm saying he can pay for his own damn vasectomy."

Raucous laughter bellowed out of the attendees. Bruce's heart sank. Even you were cracking jokes.

"There's no way that this can get any worse for us," Damian muttered.

"Where's my little dove?" Penguin asked.

"PAPA, YOU CAME!" you squealed, nearly teleporting into the monocled villain's arms. "How did you find me?"

"I've got the navigational skills of a homing pigeon," he bragged, as you hugged him tightly.

"This has been a complete failure, hasn't it?" Tim asked.

"Yes, Tim," Bruce said, watching Penguin sweep you into a dance. "We have failed."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13 <- You are here

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @heather-hutchcroft, @wannaflyaway, @jaybunsblog, @sugarrush-blush, @redkarmakai, @asillysimp, @type-ink, @jellyedkazoo, @lonely-nerd-sodaholic

[dduane]

Hello! I have been a long-time fan of your work in Star Trek, and then while watching Transformers G1 I was startled to see your name appear on the title screen of Webworld. Most of the episodes of G1 are a little all over the place, but Webworld GOT me. It’s so fascinating to see Cyclonus essentially bring Galvatron (against his will) to a mental health clinic?! My question is, how did you get involved to help write an episode of Transformers? What was it like? Thank you so much for all the amazing work that you do!

You're very welcome!

About my work on Transformers G1: Developmentally speaking it's kind of a complicated story, so bear with me here while I set the scene.

In 1985 I was a pretty busy girl. The Door Into Shadow had just published. Deep Wizardry had gone to press for publication in Delacorte's fall-'85 schedule. My first computer game, Star Trek: The Kobayashi Alternative, launched (in the Rainbow Room on top of 30 Rock...) in the summer of '85. I was then scripting my first comics work for DC (the "Double Blind" two-parter and "The Last Word"). And after taking a brief breathing space from four or five years' worth of animation work across a number of shows (scroll down here for details), I'd just turned in an episode of My Little Pony.

In memory all this work tends to get tangled together somewhat (which is probably no surprise). One thread that shows persistently through the tangle, though, is how much time I was spending in New York at a time when I was living in Philadelphia.

A surprising amount of that has to do with the research surrounding Deep Wizardry, which required specialized materials not readily available anywhere else. Because I had a contract for that book, in early 1984 I applied for (and was granted) access to the Frederick Lewis Allen Memorial Room at the main branch of the New York Public Library. As a result, for the guts of a year I was "up in town" at least every other week or so, sometimes for two or three days at a time—taking notes from the Woods Hole oceanographic resources there, drawing copies of them (like this one) when xerography wasn't available or when otherwise necessary, and—when there was time—writing.

But on those stay-overs my evenings were my own, and fortunately there were some really nice people to meet up with, every so often. Back when 666 5th Avenue (now 660) was DC Comics' home, a lot of the writing and editorial talent had a habit of heading down to street level and around the corner on Friday nights, to meet up and relax at the bar in a local steakhouse on the E. 52nd Street side (IIRC: that neighborhood's much changed now). That's almost certainly where I first met Len Wein—most likely introduced to him by my editor on the Trek comics at DC, Bob Greenberger—and we quickly got to be friends. Each of us was interested in the writing (and kinds of writing) the other was doing, so we had lots to chat about.

Now during this period I'd recently finished work on that My Little Pony script. A production company called Sunbow was then handling the screen side of the property, along with shows based on various other IPs. To this day I can't remember who it was over there who said to me, "So listen, now that you're done with that, we've got some slots unfilled on another show—would you be interested in doing a Transformers?" My answer was naturally "Sure, why not?"*

So shortly I was talking story, in a general way, with my new story editor over there, Steve Gerber. The thought of doing something a bit personal, and getting into some of the characters' heads a bit, was as usual on my mind. The idea of getting Galvatron some psychiatric care had already crossed my mind at that point... though I had on first impulse pushed that (for the time being) onto the back burner due to possibly being a little too "on the nose."

At some point pretty early on in this process, though, a different idea hit me as it had hit me before. Len was plainly perfectly cut out for animation storytelling (as other comics writers have also been: but the fit has rarely seemed quite so perfect, to me at least). And he'd have a party with this, I thought. Why not invite him along for the ride and let him get a feel for how it's done?

So I did. To my great pleasure Len promptly said "Yes!" And having cleared this with Steve Gerber, we dove in as co-writers.

Collaboration can sometimes be a rocky road, but I've always been lucky in mine, and that lucky streak held true with Len. I have rarely had a co-writer who right out of the starting gate was more willing to stretch hard to get things right, and one who was more effortlessly funny... even when the humor turned dark (as it repeatedly did in this episode). He unquestionably brought things to that script that I wouldn't have thought to try, or would have been nervous about my ability to pull off, solo.

...So after a couple/few weeks we turned "Webworld" in, the checks cleared, and we both went on to other things. But that episode keeps coming up as many people's favorite... and I can't say that I mind a bit. :) (If you want to look at it, the whole episode's online: just follow the link.)

BTW, because people do ask "Why does Len's name appear first on the credits screen?", the answer's simple: Because I insisted. He was the newbie here, after all. I thought it only right that the junior partner in this medium should be put in pride of place on that credit, his first time out. (I routinely do the same with @petermorwood, for anyone who's watching. Collaborator of thirty-plus years he may be, but he's still newer at this than I am. Heh heh.)

In any case, I wear that particular joint credit with great pride. It's an honor to be associated with someone who went on to become—entirely separate from his already-stellar career in comics—one of the strongest and most prolific animation writers of the last few decades.

...So that's how it happened. (And as for the story of how Bob G. and I dragged Len out of that restaurant one night and made him buy his first computer [an early Macintosh]: that's true too.) :)

*Also, after this they asked me the same question again, but this time about a show called GloFriends. Same result, due to the house rule: "If someone offers you work, take it!" :)

[259kmvn]

experiment

albedo conducts a test on his partner | albedo x f!reader smut (oral)

knock, knock, knock.

"come in."

you stand outside albedo's door, pressing the cold handle as you push it open. "hi, bedo!" you greet, sticking your head into his work-room. it's messy inside; papers line the walls and pepper the floor while vials of various natural elements are scattered around different surfaces. it's smaller than his actual workshop- tighter with less space to navigate. but this will do for as long as he'd like to live with you.

"how much longer do you think you need?"

"i'm almost done. i just need to compare my observations, then i'll join you." his smooth voice compliments his movements as he opens a nearby drawer to pull out a piece of paper.

the way his teal eyes glisten and eyebrows furrow as he scans it makes your tummy frizzle; he's hot when he's focused. and that shirt he has on... phew. it shapes his already nicely shaped body in just the right places. you just wish you could-

"...dear?"

ah. when did his gaze shift to you? "hmm? oh- nothing! yeah.. sorry... what did you say?" there was no hiding the guilty, sheepish tone in your voice.

"i asked if you required anything from me, dear." by this time a small smile is on his lips. amused eyes connected directly to yours.

"right," you bite your smile, "nothing. just- you, i suppose."

albedo raises an eyebrow. neither of you speak, and the gentle awkwardness makes you start tapping your fingers on the door. "i'll.. i'll just wait for you in the living room. sorry for disturbing!" you start to pull your head from his room.

this awkward tension isn't new. in fact, it was way worse when you first started dating him. many of your advances met with silence, and you've come to learn that that's just him assessing his options. unsurprisingly, your first intimate time did not go so well. he was methodological- too methodological. it felt like making love with a robot. but as time went on, and both he and you figure out what clicks, well... let's just say he brings you to another universe.

"wait. dear," he calls out just as you're about to pull the door shut, "i've got an experiment that i've been wanting to perform. perhaps you could help me with it." hope glistens within your heart and you smile.

"sure!" you entered his work-room with a new enthusiasm. "how can i help?"

you go to stand next to him, looking at the papers in his hand and the numerous circular diagrams on them. "look here," he starts, "i'm currently curious about the cyclical nature of life. cycles pervade every aspect of our known universe- do you follow?" you nod and scan the diagrams.

"ah! i see what you mean!" you lean closer to him, "and you drew all the different cycles you could find so far?" the fabrics of your clothes graze upon each other.

"that's right. smart girl." if there was a frizzle in your stomach, it's turned to a flutter. "but there is one more cycle that i'd like to explore that only you can help me achieve." you hold your breath. "i think you already know what it is."

you try to hide the smile that's creeping up your lips, but your rising cheekbones would not lie for you. "really, bedo? here?" your voice is but a whisper.

he nods, then gestures towards an empty chair- the only one in this room. "have a seat, dear. ah, clothes off first." so you take your clothes off and sit on the chair. its flat surface is cold against your bare soft cheeks. albedo leans over you, hands placed on both armrests by your sides. "good. this experiment is about you, so don't worry about me, is that clear?"

you nod, but he tuts. in a lower voice, he says, "use your words, dear. it is crucial in an experiment that you communicate your every experience. when i ask 'is that clear', what do you say?"

"yes," you whisper.

"good girl." he leans down and kisses your cheek. loose strands of his hair tickle your skin as he continues up to your ear. "mmm.." he hums, sending vibrations across your skin. "stage one of cycle one: pre-engagement." a tongue swipes up your earlobe. you gasp.

he continues his ministrations of licks and kisses on your ear, not neglecting the other by massaging it with his hand. every breath you take hitches and shakes. it tickles. it feels good. you can feel a tingling sensation poking at your core already, and the thought of it makes you whimper.

"your words," he sneaks a reminder amidst his kissing, "use them."

"it feels good," you manage through your sharp breaths. he hums in approval, and the vibrations shoot straight down. "i.. i want mo-re," vowels are especially difficult, because your jaw wishes to betray you for a less subtle moan. he hums again, this time in obedience.

albedo pulls back. looks at your naked figure on his well-used work-room chair. the sight turns him on. not once had he thought of being intimate with you in his workspace; the contexts had always been separate to him. but perhaps that doesn't have to be the case. having everything he loves in the same room sounds like an obvious ideal now.

you shift under his pondering gaze, and he notices. ah.. it must be because he's clothed and you're not. "shall i take my clothes off too, dear?"

you look up at him. to be honest, you like the way this particular shirt looks on him. even more is the way you feel being naked when he's not; vulnerable, powerless, like you're being experimented on. as he starts to unbutton his shirt, you interrupt. "bedo... can i say no?" he pauses in confusion. "i like it like this, it's- um, it really feels like you're experimenting on me." his eyes shut for a few seconds. a sign that he's recollecting his thoughts.

"understood, dear. this variable won't change." you can't help but notice how his shirt is still partly unbuttoned as he leans down to kiss your neck. he trails down your chest, leaving a constellation of kisses that you recognise as princeps cretaceus. you shiver. he's leaving his mark on you.

the hands he has on your legs gently push them apart- thumbs caressing your inner thighs. he crouches down completely and lifts your left leg, resting it on his shoulder. the added distance opens you up more, and albedo observes your glistening slit. his eyes are hooded, breaths getting heavier. you squirm at the sight of your aroused lover. "commencing stage two of cycle one: engagement."

albedo's licks are controlled and strategic. that is not to say that he's slow- rather, he's deliberate in choosing which speeds to eat you out with and where. his tongue is slow in sliding up and down your opening. fast when tasting your clit.

his eyebrows furrow as he's tongue-deep inside you, teal eyes alert to your every response. every buck of your hip makes him moan into your pulsing heat.

your whimpers run loose. there's so much you're feeling; the cold hard chair pressing against your back- the hand that's gently rubbing your left leg. his head between your legs, wisps of hair tickling your sensitive skin. his nose prodding at your clit as his tongue thrusts into your slit. "bedo- ah," you feel your core tighten. he does too. "i'm- i'm gonna cum-"

he hums in approval. "go ahead," his voice is muffled by your flesh, "cum for me." he presses his free hand on your lower tummy firmly. adding pressure to the already built up tension in your core.

"bedo, please, ah! mm-" your voice only gets higher and his tongue faster. at this point you're grinding on his face, chasing your high, and he keeps going. "please, please, please, hah-!"

you cum.

albedo lets you ride out your high on his tongue before putting your leg down and standing up. he wipes his mouth with his sleeve, juices and saliva smearing the shirt you love so much. every breath a heave for both you and him. your consciousness slowly restores and you realise you're in an unflattering slouch. you sit up, though your body still shivers and your sweaty skin sticks to the surfaces of the chair. you look up at albedo, who is silently catching his breath.

"i.. thank you," you don't know what to say. "is this.. enough for your experiment?" something tells you it's not. and that something is an obvious bulge in your lover's pants. you smile cheekily. somewhat proud of the effects you have on him. "..maybe not," you say in your cheekiness and stand up.

you meet his eyes and approach him, hands reaching down to play with his pants buckle. "you seem to be accurate, dear," he says as his hand cups your cheek, "i am unsatisfied with the experiment thus far." there's a restrained jerk in his hips when you teasingly glide over his bulge, "ah- i'd like to begin a new set of- mmph!"

you interrupt his line of thought with a kiss. his lips are soft and his eyes wide in shock. you pull back, and say amidst your shared air, "it's my turn to study you, dear. leave the thinking to me, hmm?"

his breaths stagger, and he nods hesitantly. "use your words, dear," you tease, tugging at his pants. he gulps.

"understood."