#// take this from the person w/ the shoulder injury

[armafidelium]

whispers if no one's told you today i'm proud of you, you're doing an amazing job, and you're a wonderful presence i'm so happy to be around

[mickandmusings]

third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

-

i.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

-

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

-

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

[acid-ixx]

How do think readers relationship with each of the batfam would be had they not been neglected?

what if...? ft. domestic headcanons w/ your family

series masterlist &. request masterlist — long post ahead !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 6400+ words, no beta i'm genuinely insane. help i literally thought abt this yesterday !! i may or may not post a drabble about this one specific dream the reader had about where they had a normal relationship with the batfam but at the same time i want to implement it in the next chapter instead so have food for thoughts instead! slight spoilers below. also please do comment and reblog if u like this ! ^^ supporting my writing just makes me further motivated to write even more !

if you were never neglected by your own family, then i could say that the process of them turning yandere would be a tad bit better or worse. i'm saying, because of your past and because of an incident during your elementary years (that could've been avoided if your family actually never ignored you; so let's assume that that incident actually never happened but it opened a gateway for an even more protective family) the batfam could easily be either a dream or nightmare.

let's say it was bruce and dick who had picked you up from the police station. the moment he sees his own firstborn child, all his thoughts would circulate from just how broken and hopeless you absolutely looked, how the injuries litter throughout your entire body, the way your empty eyes stare at anything.

the child, his child, looked exactly like him all those years ago. he knows just how painful it is to bare losing all your loved ones.

he wouldn't hesitate to approach your form, immediately picking you up and letting your head lean on his shoulders as dick follows in tow, cooing about his significantly younger sibling.

that would be the first time dick would call you his baby bird, with the way you'd stare at him with mixed emotions in your eyes.

if him and dick were to hear about what happened to you inside your old apartment from the police (drugged and abused by the same men who took your mother away from you), then be guaranteed that batman and nightwing would be more brutal during their patrol afterwards (dick would even take more weeks off from bludhaven just to care for his younger sibling), even going as far as formulating a plan for your captors, having oracle stalk each and every person involved in your life.

if anyone thinks the vigilante would abide by his no-kill rule then they're wrong, because he'd turn a blind eye for once if dick were to brutally stab someone at any moment. why? because batman will not settle until his own child's attackers are thrown into putrid prison cells with no guarantee that they'll see the light of the day. the criminals should be grateful that red hood isn't even in the picture yet.

your father would be more perceptive of your emotions if he had never neglected you. he will always be the one giving you rides, he'll shield you away from the mass media trying to take photographs of you— and you're getting carried throughout the manor if your little body were to even express fatigue.

bruce wayne wouldn't admit it, but he absolutely cherishes you and your youth. he had adopted dick and grayson when they were above the age of ten, when they were already growing some sort of consciousness about the world they live in. but you? you're so small and you have so much to learn, your innocence is something bruce would protect. you'll be absolutely coddled by your father, your grandfather figure, alfred, and your oldest brother, dick. even future members of the family knows just how important you are maintaining their sanity.

that means you have the manor in the palm of your hands. you had a nightmare tonight? don't worry, your dad would always be one step ahead of you and would immediately be in your room. hell, if you were comfortable enough, you'd be sleeping in the same bedroom as your dad for the first few years you'll live inside the manor. he'll read you bedtime stories if you want and even have alfred prepare you warm milk or chocolate before you go to sleep. his entire schedule would also be centered around you, making sure that he would always arrive on time from business meetings to have dinner with you, and coming home early from patrols. if he leaves the manor before you're set off to sleep, then he'll be giving you a good night's kiss whilst alfred would be the one substituting for your nightly bedtime stories.

you may call him overbearing once you start to notice the signs the more you grow older, but your father will always track your sleep schedule - he even makes you wear a watch that records your heart rate - from the moment you drift into dreamland to the times you get nightmares— he makes sure the food you eat before dinner is light, booking appointments with nutritionists to make sure you're healthy. he even does specialized training with you, for self defence and to also maintain a healthy lifestyle.

and dick grayson? his visits to gotham would be more frequent. even if his relationship with bruce is strained, he'll always be in the manor faster than you could say 'i miss you' to your older brother on the phone. he loves coddling his baby bird, especially since you were adopted right after jason's death; dick doesn't want a repeat of the past, always making sure you get proper cuddles and affirmations.

spending time with dick means you get all the power to draw on his arms or face or make arts and crafts with him. he enjoys it when his baby bird is at their comfiest state so even if you were seated on the floor, there would always be cozy blankets that count as your chairs and snacks right beside you. you could ask him to get something for you and he's right at it.

he would be the older brother who normalizes physical affection in the household. dick would constantly kiss your cheeks, your foreheads, and any injuries you would obtain (a habit that even bruce adopted once your dad realized how it's an effective way to soften your cries and ease your heart). he's not afraid of picking you up even! always tossing you to the air under alfred or bruce's supervision whenever you feel down. dick would always hold your hand, too, as an assurance that your beloved older brother is always there for you.

you'd probably ignore all the red flags he carries around because of how early he shows off his signs of obsessiveness. so don't question it if him and bruce wouldn't allow you to go to sleepovers with your other friends or if sometimes, just sometimes dick feels the need to just have you in his arms for hours without end after particularly brutal patrols. you're the only person holding him up and if he doesn't breath in that reminder then he might just lose himself.

your brother would literally prioritize you over anything else. he can and will pick you up from school, he makes sure nobody in your class is there to bully you, he'll spoil you with sweet treats whenever bruce is too busy with business meetings. he wants to be seen as your favorite ever since he's discovered himself to be your idol, so he'll always show off his acrobatic skills for your eyes only.

whenever dick would say "i love you!" it always translates to, "if you want me to, then i will give you the world." which means he'll drop anything he's doing right now the moment you invite him over to design your diaries or sketchbooks.

your talents very early on would be heavily acknowledged by your family. that means any single drawing or craft you'd do, whether poorly done or not, would be stored in very protective places or shows off in every crevice of the manor. any father's day gift from you would be framed in bruce's personal office, a personal reminder to him that you are the light at the end of the brooding tunnel he puts himself in. so even if he can't always be there for you, he will always have you in his mind and in his heart.

your existence in the manor would prove to be a healthier way for bruce to cope, for him to get his mind off of the loss of his second child. whenever he looks at you, he'll always be filled with a determination to protect gotham from any further danger, to save the city - if not himself, then for your sake, for his baby to feel safe whenever they would walk on the streets, for his baby to feel protected whenever you two would eat in fancy restaurants or go shopping for your diary's supplies.

criminals would immediately get the message that messing with you means getting on the bad side of both batman and nightwing. you may be the child of bruce wayne, (name) wayne, but if they even think of kidnapping you for ransom then they should pray; pray because if batman's baby even gets a single nick, a single droplet of blood on their body then they're gone. there's no such thing as holding back if it comes to you.

now, your older sister figure, barbara gordon, despite her constantly being busy because of her role as the oracle, would find ways to at least entertain you whenever you would visit her in the batcave. if you feel like your father's overprotective nature and your older brother's coddling is too much, then she will be offer you solace by her side. she may not always be physically there but you two are as close as you are to the other members of your family because you're a creative one. it's not often barbara gets to spend time with someone like you who enjoys having her as a muse for your art pieces. she allows you to also style her hair, and if you like to design clothing, then she'd be your model for as much as you want.

barbara is also your go-to for when dick and bruce are both unavailable. she lets you watch her hack through multiple security systems, explaining concepts that you don't understand. and, because she's the most emotionally stable out of all of them, you'd prefer gossiping to her about your school's drama compared to dick, as she actually gives you helpful advice!

well, little do you know that she had already hacked your school's camera footage and wired multiple recorders on your bag but you don't have to know that! after all, barbara wants to keep the only sane person in the household safe and happy. she's not openly obsessive towards you, but whatever secrets you have that don't compromise your safety are secrets she promises she will bring to the grave. that means if you ever have a crush on a someone then she will hide it from the others.

... that is until you actually end up trying to get into a relationship too early for even her eyes then she won't hesitate sending out the signals to bruce and the others. she can't afford exposing her younger sibling to heartbreaks and emotional attachment towards strangers! so do forgive her if there are times where you feel like there's someone constantly watching your back, because she is that someone; with all the intentions in the world that you wouldn't have to go through what she did with the joker or any other villains who could whisk you away from their arms.

it's obvious that, of course the oracle will use all the power in her hands to guarantee all eyes are on you, so that there would never be an opening for any danger towards you. even if you do know that she's the one in-control of the strings, there's not much you could do but accept it.

then there's tim drake. your brother who had stalked batman and nightwing just to prove a point. his parents are alive and he's fine being on his own, but fuck it if he prefers being in the wayne manor! once you're introduced to tim, he's immediately researching about the first biological child of bruce wayne. and thank god bruce requires the two of you to become familiar with each other because you're just so interesting to him, you and your curious eyes, your small habits— the way you shift in your position as your father's hands are clasped on your shoulder protectively.

tim can already feel himself blast off in excitement just solving the mysteries about you! yet he doesn't know it in himself that the longer you spend time with him, the more the urge to just stitch himself into your very life grows stronger.

if you were never neglected by your own family then you would instead be analyzed constantly. tim is just another set of eyes constantly watching you, but unlike the others, he picks off every single detail about you to a T.

you, your interests, your hobbies, your favorites, your friends, you name it; he will have an entire collection of case files on everything, picking apart your very mind to the seams. it's like he's eating up the information about you, spending sleepless nights researching about a movie you two would watch soon, because the look of amazement in your eyes feeds the growing love he has for his sibling.

at first he'd never understand why bruce and dick seems so smitten towards you other than the case regarding your mother. but he slowly starts to understand why— because just like him, you're perceptive of his well-being. if dick isn't around then you're always the one hanging around his room, visiting him with snacks in your arms or an invitation to watch a cartoon show.

he likes doing your assignments for you, especially your projects even if he neglects his own duties for his own school. and despite how emotionally constipated or unaware he seems, he's obsessed with your personal life. that means you don't even have to rant to him about school drama or your friends or crush because he can and will know it. what he doesn't like, though, is when your attention is towards anything but him. he may not be the most physically comfortable to cuddle but he will offer you his jackets which he would end up not washing right after you use them, instead he wears them, feeling closer to you than ever.

it even lulls him to sleep for the times you're unable to sleep over at his room.

tim may not know how to comfort you like dick whenever you wake up from nightmares but he does know ways to avoid them; he knows a lot of strategic methods to get you drowsy after a moment's panic.

bonus points if you cuddle him afterwards! he loves the warmth that you emanate, loves it when your body leans against him and makes him feel so important. tim loves it when you snuggle him unknowingly, tightening your already bruising grip on him, he loves reciprocating it too, feeling a special bond with his sibling that not even his parents could offer.

though he doesn't openly tell you that he loves you, he does so in his own ways! you don't want to see an entire photography room dedicated to his younger sibling— most pictures contributed by tim. you don't want to see the terabytes of files that are all about you and your interests, millions of video imagery of just you sketching or writing diary entries, sometimes eating or rambling senselessly. you don't know it but tim loves playing the videos of you in the background, especially the ones where you're humming a tune or singing a lullaby; those are his favorites.

it's not his fault that you're just so interesting to him, that your presence is so comforting, that you're the only person closest to him that has the ability to make him melt into you, unknowingly succumbing to your spoiled wishes.

jason todd comes into the picture later, and he is a very enraged man. he's mad at his replacement, at bruce, at you, at the entire universe.

at first he just doesn't understand anything. he doesn't understand why bruce finds it so easy to not only replace his status as robin but to also bring in another child, who's valued and loved more despite not taking the mantle of robin. he's mad at just how quick he was replaced, how it seems like bruce never avenged him, and yet if he threatens your safety then the old man suddenly turns violent towards him?!

jason wouldn't bring you into the fray, because you're unaware of the entire situation, but fuck, he doesn't understand why you are just so cherished when he'd watch the news and sees your picture plastered all over the reporters' walls, talking about the child who bruce never allowed to separate from his side. they talk about how you're the sheltered one, the hearthrob of all media with just how clingy the billionaire is towards his supposed younger sibling.

he's not jealous, he gets why bruce is protective and smothers himself all over you; but he hates feeling replaced, feeling discarded and forgotten by the very man who'll avenge your death if that ever happened.

hence why he has to see it for himself, has to see you for himself. it's a coincidence, a miracle actually that he just seems to easily find you by the kitchen of the manor— a manor whose aura is now different from last time, it seems like it now reeks of life, of personality. clearly you were the main cause of all of this.

you could simply be reading a book and sipping your nightly tea, but jason would soon realize just how... vulnerable you are at the moment. you find him hiding in the shadows and all you offer is a wide stare with no sense of self defense whatsoever. it's the same vulnerability that he sees off the cruelest streets of gotham. you're exactly like the innocent kids who get brutally murdered without justice, just like the children who have never once gained penance for the torture they had to experience just living off of personality.

jason isn't a dumbass, living near the crime alley means hearing the gossips of every citizen. your name, or preferably your last name is famed even in the underground. your mother is infamous for catching the attention of most crime lords by running off with their cash, successful staying hidden to care for her child, just right until she met her untimely demise. you lost her early just like how he lost his mother early as she had fallen victim to drug overdose.

he'll discover why gotham's vigilante seems to be so protective over you. the way you carry yourself, the warmth you give off as you offer him your leftover dinner despite not

you told him that your dad taught you to never talk to strangers— but clearly he's not because "how else would you be able to trespass the millions of security alarms in the manor? you must've lived here before." you'll state as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, sipping your drink before you offer him a seat next to yours, unafraid of the dangers that lie ahead of you—

"you must've really been pampered by the old man, huh?" is all his reply, the voice changer of his makes him sound naturally intimidating, like he's ready to attack but no, that's not his intentions with you. he'll take a seat beside you, try to make out what book you're reading and that's when he knows that you truly have no idea that it's your dead brother who's talking to you. you have no idea of his resurrection whatsoever as you start to mumble off about the novel— he finds it quite amusing that, finally, he's not the only guy who enjoys literature in the family, even going as far as to recommend his own fair share of favorite novels to you.

once he leaves out of the window after a seemingly long session of talking, definitely aware that yes, bruce does have a microchip inserted under your skin, and the watch you're wearing has a voice recorder that sends recordings straight to the batcave's system; jason takes note to visit you more often, finding the normalcy you offer very welcoming.

he likes it, likes your mellow behavior. he'll even admit that you're the only proof that bruce can, in fact, raise a child right, even if that means tracking their entire life. but that's the old man's love language, and jason knows it in himself that he's already planning for a way to take you to ride his motorcycle at night without bruce's knowledge; just so his angel knows the feeling of gotham's breeze flowing through their hair since bruce seems to love dictating your every move.

once he does form a solid plan to take you away, even just temporarily, you don't have to worry about the criminals who litter the streets because jason made sure that nobody's gonna mess with him and his angel's bonding time together.

the youngest, damian wayne, and the second biological child of bruce is a special case. his upbringing as an assassin makes him susceptible to his fits of tantrums. the first time he steps foot into the manor is the same time he will threaten anyone around him; and that includes you, the bastard child. quite frankly, your first greeting with him would be the same as the one in the original storyline, you'll greet him with a tray of sweets in your hand and a small smile and he'll reply with a sword on your neck. but the difference would be the undeniable fact that dick and bruce immediately stopped him from even nicking your delicate skin.

dick's swearing was shut down by alfred's scolding and you, again! pulling on your oldest brother's sleeve with an assurance that you're okay.

that's the very first time he sees his father truly reprimand him with nothing but rage in his eyes. despite damian's annoying antics towards his father the entire day, it seems like you were the snapping point.

his father, bruce wayne, made it very clear that he can mess with anyone and everyone in the family but you. that you have nothing to

his only reply would be a sneer as he demands they take him to his room immediately, unable to shut you down when you offer to help bring his luggage despite bruce's firm unwillingness and dick's hesitant request that his baby bird should instead spend time in his room instead.

but it was always your word above everybody else's and damian hates that, hates that everyone just seems to succumb to your request as long as it doesn't compromise your safety. the bitterness that keeps resurfacing in his heart whenever he sees you wearing tim or dick's jacket, or if he caught sight of bruce giving you affection was a feeling he tried to convince himself wasn't jealousy.

not jealousy towards you, no, but towards them. your behavior towards him was nothing but kind, a kindness that was taught to him as weakness. he thinks you're weak and undeserving of being spoiled and yet he hates it whenever he sees his blood sibling (whom he called a bastard child so many times) become too close with anyone but him.

he hates it, he hates you and his conflicting feelings. he hates it when he pushes you away, hates it when he sees you pout after another failed attempt at trying to have your youngest sibling talk to you.

and as the days or even weeks pass by, with all your effort to try to bond with him, with the days where he can feel dick's energy drain because you insisted on spending time with damian instead of dick again, with tim's intolerable treatment towards the him because you chose to bother damian instead of that loser— are the days he feels himself actually becoming closer to you because he relishes in your insufferable behavior towards them, because you just seem so sweet to him.

damian feels that it's right that you make him the exception.

so it's inevitable that damian will eventually discover both your talents towards art and the love for nature. it's a mistake, really, when one day as he stalks through the hallways he'd find you in your own atelier, painting a portrait of a robin with a color scheme that matches his vigilante suit. the beams of sunlight seems to hit you just right because you looked so at peace with your surroundings, humming a tune, unaware of your youngest brother who has found himself at your most natural state.

he'll budge in without moment's hesitation afterwards, steering clear behind you as he analyzes your art. it would only be after a few minutes would he announce his presence in the room, expecting you to scream at him to buzz off but all you did was jump in your seat, looking back to eye the intruder only to find out it was damian all along, offering him a smile and a seat beside you.

after he does so, you'll both end up spending the entire day bombarding each other with art tips and animal facts. he'll give you comments about the bird's proportions and you give him guidelines on how to properly mix your colors without it looking muddled. it's like you two are meant to be siblings because damian swears he ended up clinging to your side after your painting session, refusing to even seat beside anyone during dinner time if it isn't you because he's not done rambling about the rainbow eucalyptus you had told him you'd seen in a nature documentary once— so it's rightfully his place to be beside you and not drake's or grayson's or even his father.

eventually you two would be as close as peas in a pod because you're seemingly the only one who knows how to calm him down, the only one with the right to raise your voice at him and to ask him of favors because you're his blood sibling. and because you both share the same blood, that means you both should share clothes that complement each other, share snacks and treats, share matching bracelets and necklaces and any jewelry, you're the only one allowed to hang around his room and him in yours.

the others find it annoying that you let him be, but what choice do they have? unless they would like to hear an earful from damian then they should stay silent because you both aren't done painting each other's nails yet!

stephanie brown is shortly introduced to you after her incessant insistence on meeting you right after stepping foot into the manor. she knows of your internet fame for being the beloved bruce wayne's 'favorite' child and she's not afraid to admit that you are indeed adorable in person! unlike your first meeting with damian, steph would immediately coddle you at first glance, insisting you call her by 'steph' and that

due to the short period of time as her robin and her being constantly reprimanded for her antics, you'd take it in yourself to become closer with her, and she accepts your offer without any complaints. she's also one of your muses for your art and it's a good thing she has a sense of style unlike your brothers who are either too flashy (you had to stifle a laughter looking at the discowing costume) or too dull. damian's fashion sense is good but he's often out during the time period you spend with steph, and even if she often doesn't stay still, you at least hsve someone to talk your ears off whilst you try to sketch the poses she chose.

her obsession towards you stems from your willingness to "match her freak" or whatever internet lingo she finds that day, but she's a fun company to be around! she's always there for you when you need to rant about anything regarding your feelings, especially since you're at the age where you're a teenager and your emotions towards your family would be all over the place and she'd relate the most towards that.

so other than barbara, you'll find yourself speaking up about any concerns you have to steph, and she turns your 'favoritism' towards her her entire personality.

but if you think of even spilling your secrets about a highschool crush to steph or news that someone had asked you out for prom them then spoiler alert! don't. like her mentor, steph will drop signs and clues and your brothers would promptly deal with that. awe, don't worry about feeling alone though or if you weren't permitted to go to your highschool prom because steph and babs will be the ones to convince bruce to throw you your own very elegant gala where you would dance with only your siblings!

see, isn't she so strategic that way? psht, you don't need a boy or a girl acting as your temporary reprieve when your entire family is there for you! steph is here for you and you did technically promise to go out with her today to go shopping so...

it's not that she isn't on your side, no! but you're very much the entire family's baby and she doesn't want you losing your attention on her, definitely not! her goofy personality towards you really does cover her intense urge to be by your side really well. unlike damian, it's not obvious that she's trying so hard to monopolize your time for herself but you're just so fun to be around and she's at her best behavior when it comes to you.

so what's wrong if she ditches her other friends to bond with her beloved sibling? it's not like they'd understand what it's like having someone who actually looks at her for her rather than just the surface level.

don't question why most of the gifts she had given you (which ranges from attires like jackets and shles, to matching bracelets, even little fidget toys) all don a shade of purple and blue! and don't also question why her gallery is filled with cute selfies of you and why your phone's lock screen wallpaper is now suddenly matching with hers.

after all, steph likes making it known that you are her favorite!

cassandra cain, when she first saw you, is, of course, silent. but she makes her presence known quickly after she has enough proof that you've no fight in your body. she may not be the most expressive in words but she is through actions.

you were actually the one who had first approached her after bruce initially introduced you two to each other, offering her a handshake and a greeting in sign language. albeit it being crusty, and her insisting that it's alright if you do the talking, it seems like you were more than willing to learn sign language just for the sake of your new sister and she likes it.

she really, really likes it, appreciates how there were no signs of malice in your movements and just how comfortable you seemed with someone who could potentially end your life with just a snap of her fingers. and yet you treat her like she's not a weapon of murder but rather another sibling who is welcomed into your own world.

you ask her if she wants to hang out with you and steph in your own personal sleepover inside your room and she accepts it because of just how comforting your presence is. it's been so long since she had last felt like she was treated as a human and you were proof that she's glad she never took the path to human carnage like her father intended her to because then she wouldn't meet someone who would soon be so precious to her.

cass may not talk a lot but she is a listener.

a listener to both your words and your body language. it's quicker for her to notice if you ever needed a hug or a catalyst for comfort. she knows your boundaries and when you need space the most. she knows it when you want to open up to her about how stuffy the manor is beginning to feel, how it feels as if they're becoming more sensitive about your social life, how you wish your friends aren't distancing themselves from you because of how intimidating your family is.

and you can say all that to her because cass, alongside duke and sometimes steph, would be the only ones keeping your deepest darkest desires to their grave. although she may not understand your reasonings on why you even felt like your family is coddling you too much (because they're not! they love you very much and she does too) in the first place, she's always the one offering you to hold her hands whenever you're going through a momentary panic attack or a shoulder to lean on whenever dick would scold you for something impulsive you've done.

unlike your neglected counterpart, cass would always be by your shadows, watching every one of your moves and to abide by bruce's order to make sure you wouldn't escape, shall you ever feel rebellious during your teenage years. you may be older than her but she's stronger than you, more experienced and can even combat your dad if she wants to.

yet she always seems to let her guard down when it comes to you because you just seem to have that alluring effect on everybody. can't you understand just how important you are to everybody? you're the most important to her, you're one of the first few people who had treated her like a human so she swears on her life to protect you from harm's way like you did her whenever she's often in a pit of despair.

cass isn't the most expressive, so she makes up for it by instead leaving signs that she really cares for you, or sometimes hiding little trinkets for you to find in your room. it's like her very own message that translates 'cass was here'.

whenever you sit beside her at the dinner table, she always slips in extra food by your plate without you looking or sometimes even filling your glass bottles with extra juice and you'll never know why until you realize that it's her way of telling you to eat more. sometimes, your clothes would go missing until you see your sisters wearing your own collection of jackets and hoodies then swapping them in your drawers for their own— you'd realize that cass got that idea from steph and you can't get mad at her or anybody else as it soon becomes tradition that you'll have an entire closet dedicating to the missing clothes you have that your siblings have replaced to their own attire.

cass really does love you and although she can't always say it out loud, you'll always have a constant reminder instead. as long as you're safe and sound then you don't have to witness the darker sides of her that she hides from you.

then finally, duke thomas. he may have been introduced to you the latest but you could say in terms of every trait, he'd be the brother you'd like to keep close for every situation. your first meeting with him is quite frankly the most normal one of them all, introducing yourself to duke through dinner. although he may be temporarily under bruce's guardianship over anything else, he's incredibly comforting to be around as he's quick to catch on your emotions but unlike the others, he doesn't push you to open up to him, but he won't leave your side at all either.

duke is the only metahuman you're probably allowed to be close with because your dad absolutely refuses you from even trying to talk with the superfamily. and duke heavily prides himself with that information, often secretly showing you his metahuman skills and answering whatever questions you have about them.

like jason, duke wouldn't fully delude himself into thinking you're innocent, that you need to be babied to the point they feel the urge to track even the food you eat— so he's your reliable source for any video games you were forbidden to play or any movies dick would consider too gruesome for you. he's chill, he even sneaks you unhealthy chips once in a while which makes him automatically one of the top in your tier list.

but don't think he's entirely on your side, because whilst duke seems the most normal to you - the only sibling who wouldn't smother you in blankets the moment you accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife - he's also batshit crazy for his own sibling and he'll sacrifice a lot for you two. so if you even dare try to suggest an idea that duke knows would risk not only him, but especially you, then that idea automatically is relayed to your dad and you wouldn't really want your father's gentle scolding anymore.

you can try to find a loophole to go out with him though! if you want to eat batburgers outside then you can do so when he's at his patrol, seeing as how he's the only batkid who does daytime patrol and that's way safer than eating at night, no?

so do expect spending more time with him the most outside, other than with dick and damian, but you'll be forced to sit in the sidelines where nobody can lay their hands on you whilst duke would be busy fighting crime and afterwards treating you to ice cream like he didn't just 'accidentally' and brutally body slammed a criminal into the wall for giving you heart eyes.

'most normal member of the family, my ass' would be the first thing that pops into your mind, but hey! at least you didn't have to be always locked up into the stuffy manor, right...?

at least you get to spend time with all of your siblings and a very loving and attentive father..!

little did you know that the only reason they allowed you out is to give you this false sense of independence, slowly but surely planning for the ultimate day where they truly would lock you up away from the world.

but they just can't help it, you know? the media's greedy hands are starting to take more than they could; so many eyes are on you and danger awaits at every corner in gotham— they can't afford having their beloved being pried away from their arms.

so is it truly a blessing or a curse in disguise? you don't know anymore.

[kisses4reid]

protect | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get badly injured on a case, and the hospital visit ruins your surprise.

genre - fem!bau!reader x spencer, hurt/comfort, little bit of angst and arguing, fluff, happy ending!! reader can bear children (has female anatomy)

warnings - pregnancy, major injuries, mentions of gross hospital things, r uses she/her pronouns, usual criminal minds violences

w/c - 2.2k

a/n - thank u for the request! loved the idea immediately and this is the first time i’m writing abt pregnancy and stuff so pls do not quote me on anything!!! also this writing isn’t my best, sorry abt that. okay bye have fun reading

request - (@ursuu-la) hihihi idk if you're taking requests, but what if u write something where Spencer and a fem reader are dating and she's pregnant, but she's kinda scared(? or nervous to tell Spencer. And maybe she could tell it to one of the girls of the team to find a way of approaching Reid, but then she gets hurt or something happens to her in a case.

“Oh. My. God.”

You turned your attention from the open manila folder to Garcia’s multiple screens, searching each one for something important, “What?”

“Y/n M/n Reid. You’re pregnant?” Garcia spun in her chair with an angry expression while pointing a ringed finger at the main computer screen. It was your medical history - which you allowed her to search so she could experiment with a new hacking technique - but you had forgotten about your recent discovery.

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you stared in shock and started rambling through your fingers, “Garcia. I swear, nobody knows - I wasn’t keeping this from just you,” you placed your hands on her shoulders when she stood up in disappointment, sending her office chair to collide with the desk, “Spencer doesn’t even know, please Garcia. Don’t tell anyone.”

Your eyes searched hers for a promise or compromise, but instead you got welling tears.

“Garcia?”

“Y/n, your pregnant with a little Reid! This is amazing- How come you haven’t told him? I’ll have a new little nephew or niece! Y/n!” She squealed and took your hands to spin you in a circle in her small office. You immediately felt nauseous and slowed the excited girl, her hair accessories threatening to fall off in her happiness. You held your stomach and whispered,

“No spinning, I’ll throw up.”

She glanced to her computer screens and shut them down immediately, sitting back down and taking a deep breath. “This is great! Right? Please tell me this is great, you’re already 6 weeks pregnant.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “I mean, I think it’s great but..” You lost yourself in thought.

Last year when you and Spencer got married, you had talked about starting a family many times. But every time you both agreed to wait a few more years in order to save up more money and maybe move into a bigger apartment or even a house. This was not what you planned.

Spencer liked having a plan, it was one thing you grew to love. He was organised and, due to his amazing memory, remembered everything, especially everything about you. And though you two had grown so close you were basically one person, this was the only time you had no idea how Spencer would react if he found out your secret.

“I don’t know how to tell Spencer.”

Garcia grinned, but it was quickly wiped away when she noticed a certain figure in the doorway. You spun on your heel, heart attacking your ribs. Luckily, it was not your husband, but your boss. He stood sternly and started, “We’ve got a case, wheels up in 30.”

You nodded and turned back to Garcia, all she did was wave and whisper, “I’ll text you.”

In the plane, you sat next to Spencer in the aisle seat, stomach feeling queasy and phone vibrating non-stop in your back pocket. You pinched the bone between your eyebrows and squinted at the case files that Hotch had quickly gone over. Morgan was spilling some theories, Prentiss backing him up, when Spencer lowered his head and whispered in your ear, “Are you okay? You seem tired.”

You put on a small smile and nodded, the fact that Spencer had noticed something wrong meant that the rest of the team would notice soon too. You raised yourself and squeezed Spencer’s hand that had been in your lap. You murmured a small excuse me to Hotch and excused yourself to the plane’s toilet.

Spencer began to get worried for your health. The past week and a half, you’d been eating less and then more, and then you’d say you felt sick, and then you were full of energy. You cancelled plans, you slept more, and you had started avoiding Spencer. You were getting sick, and distant, and he hated how you wouldn’t let him help you whenever he asked. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, attempting to focus on the profile.

Sat on the toilet, ready to double over into the bathroom sink, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through Garcias texts.

What about a baby onesie with Daddy’s favourite child on it?

What about a candle lit dinner?

What about donuts that spell out ‘I’m Pregnant!’

I’ve seen people purposefully burn bread and wait until their husbands understand, maybe that?

Maybe. But right now, that was not what you wanted to think about. On top of the case and the whole pregnancy situation, your symptoms were becoming harder to conceal.

A whole day of analysis, interrogating, leads and dead ends led you to a one story run down house with broken windows and an overgrown yard. You threw the FBI bullet vest over your shoulders as Spencer approached you with a tight smile. His hair was shorter these days, after he finally let you start cutting it, but nothing could change his attractiveness. His cologne wafted into your senses as he went behind you, tightening your vest and patting your back and waist down to make sure you were at optimal safety.

You could almost imagine he knew you were pregnant.

“Remember, if he’s in there, keep your distance. He’s a big guy but silent, and not all there.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he did a last check over of your vest, belt, and the position of your gun. You smiled and nodded,

“I know, Spence. I’ve been here too.”

He sighed and nodded, placing a small kiss on your cheek as a good luck.

You were married, but there was no guarantee you’d both make it out of any case. Every movement could be your last, and every interaction could be your last together.

Morgan slipped through the door after a man picked the front doors lock, Prentiss behind him and you behind her. After you, followed Hotch and Spencer.

“Clear!” Morgan called from the kitchen. You turned right down a hallway, Prentiss disappearing into a small room on the right and yelling,

“Clear!”

You entered the small bedroom, gun high and steps careful. It was an adults bedroom, maybe a teenager. There was posters of horror movies, a thin mattress on the floor and shelves of books and wooden cupboard holding what you believed to be clothes.

“Clea-“

The wind got knocked out of you, your shoulder colliding with the wall to your left and a sharp handle being jabbed into your side, as you plummeted against the floor and hearing a loud thump and shattering glass beside you. Miniscule, rainbow, dots clouded your vision, the adrenaline and the concussion you were sure you had numbing the pain coursing through your veins. You screamed in pain, Hotch entering almost immediately.

You lifted your right arm to point out the window, the glass shattered from where the unsub had escaped.

Spencer entered the room in a rush, eyes running over the fallen cupboard that would've been taller than the both of you, and then your small body in the corner. You held out your arm for him, and he placed his hands under your armpits, jolting back when you screeched in pain. "Y/n, your..." His eyes widened in shock and fear at the sight of your dislocated shoulder. Your right hand clutched to your left side - no doubt trying to comfort a massive bruise or worse.

He gulped, helping you up and throwing your good arm around his shoulders. The sudden movements blanked your vision for a few moments, a small lump forming on the front left side of your temple, and your legs trembled in the sudden need to hold yourself up. "Y/n, we just need to get you to the ambulance, alright?" Spencer told you reassuringly. He didn't know how much you could understand, your eyes were cloudy and your movements spaghetti-like, but he continued to reassure you anyways.

The paramedics set into action as soon as they saw your near limp body strung across Spencer's taller build. You were placed in the ambulance on a bed and before you knew it, there was a heavy clamp on your finger and two paramedics touching you and saying unexplainable things to each other. A short one with a beard came close to your vision, obvious aware it was still slightly blurred, "Agent Y/n. We need to take your shirt off in order to fix your shoulder okay? We need to pop it back in as quick as we can."

All you could do is nod, Spencer making most of the choices for you as your husband - he wouldn't put you through something he knew you would disagree with. They asked him questions, and while the voices came in and out of focus, the adrenaline was wearing off and suddenly your senses heightened. "Is she pregnant?"

The question rolled off the paramedics tongue like a rehearsed poem, and Spencer shook his head like there was no possible way you were. But as you saw needles being prepared, your heart started pounding so fast it got the attention of the professionals. "Y/n, are you still with us?"

To Spencer, you looked like you had just woken up to a bad dream, but there was something deeper - you were not unconcious, if anything you looked alert.

"I'm pregnant." The paramedics glanced at each other and Spencer's eyes widened. The one with the needle placed it down carefully on a table, and before you knew it, you were being pushed through hallways and into a awfully bright room.

You passed out, fear and exaustion catching up to you. But Spencer couldn't sleep. On top of the fact that his wife had just gotten her shoulder dislocated and then fixed, and a slight rib fracture, she was also pregnant.

Spencer doubted for the first half hour of waiting for you to wake up that you actually were. You were saying nonsense, you were injured and the adrenaline... usually causes people to tell the truth. He paced and went over everything that had been happening. The change in your behaviour, the tiredness, the sickness. It was all coming together like a puzzle, and he wondered why he didn't realise sooner.

"Spence?" A small voice called out, and he approached the hospital bed almost immediately.

"Y/n." Spencer smiled in relief, overjoyed that you were alright and breathing. He knew you'd be fine, but anything can be unpredictable. Anyone can be unpredictable. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"What happened?" You tried to sit up but Spencers soft hands encouraged you to stay laying down.

"The unsub pushed a cabinet at you. You collided with the wall and dislocated your shoulder." He explained softly, the doctors told him that the specific pain killers they gave you may cause some loopiness. "Oh." You whispered, eyes searching his face like you had never seen it before, and you smiled. You were here, and he was here, and you needed nothing more. Other than more pain killers.

Spencer bit his lip, and sighed, not sure if it was the right time to bring the blindside up at that moment.

"Y/n, darling, are you... pregnant?"

The small grin wiped off your face and you took some deep breaths, nodding and avoiding his gaze in fear of rejection. Spencer sighed, and pushed his hair away from his face, a smile rising onto his cheeks. Tears welled in his eyes from happiness. "This is great, this is... wow Y/n, I can't believe.." He gulped, "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner."

Confusing his disbelief for anger, tears started dropping down your cheeks as you sat in silence. Spencer started to worry, "Do you... not want to have a baby with me? Or at all? Do you think I won't be a good father? I know that I've had my problems in the past but I promise I can be a good father-"

"Spencer." You called his name in shock, heart aching over his insecure questions. "I do want a baby, especially one with you. And I don't think you'll be a good father, I know you'll be a great one. I just," you wiped your cheeks and he sat down in a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. "I'm scared. I thought that you wouldn't want to have one right now because of our... plan. This is really early and we didn't get to save- and- I thought you'd be mad-" You had started blubbering now, the heart monitor becoming a ticking time bomb for a full on breakdown, before Spencer took your face in his hands and smashed your lips onto his.

He pulled back, smile wide, eyes full of adoration and sorrowfullness.

"Y/n, I don't care about that plan anymore. And I'm not mad." He searched your eyes with his, "I just wished you told me earlier. Maybe you wouldn't have been injured, because god knows I wouldn't have let you go out into the field."

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." You sniffled, placing your other hand on top of his.

"Oh, darling. You don't have to be sorry. I've made my injured and pregnant wife cry, I should be sorry."

You giggled, and leant forward to kiss him on the nose. "So it's really okay?"

"Of course. You just have to heal quickly, and I'll do all the rest."

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m

[celesteleoves]

Request for Izuku coming to the readers dorm because he needed them to patch him up because training was tough and he decided to not go to recovery girl for some reason(basically just a patching up fic w izuku😭)

“NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HER.”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader.

summary: what the ask says :)

disclaimers: established realtionship, izuku is silly…. mentions of bones being broken/other injuries, that’s all i believe! reader is kinda suggested to be female…

a/n: AWWW this might be my favourite ask yet! thank u 🤍 i hope i wrote this exactly to your liking.

—-

izuku hated relying on others. he never liked being a bother, even to those who insist he can always go to them if he ever needs anything). it’s one of his flaws, he thinks.

carrying the weight of one for all on his shoulders constantly was a reminder just how much he needed to learn how to be more independent. the broken bones, harsh sparring with his classmates, recovery girl visits. he really needs to learn how to patch himself up…

currently, he sat in his own dorm. groaning to himself as he moved slightly, muscles incredibly sore. the boy slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing the bruises and small cuts he received after training for hours. as he lifted his hands up to brush his hair back, he got an idea. a very smart one!

“she wouldn’t be too mad, right?” izuku mumbled to himself as he sluggishly stood up, making his way to your dorm.

the walk was long and treacherous (it’s a minute walk). as izuku finally stood in front of your dorm, he thought about your reaction. you are a very caring person. you’ll definitely be easygoing about this!

-

“are you kidding me izuku?!” your jaw dropped at the sight of your disheveled boyfriend who only smiled sheepishly. you immediately turned into scolding y/n mode, rambling on and on about how he should take it easy.

“i knew you’d be a bit mad… i’m sorry.”

your boyfriends words made you falter in your speech as you took in the weight of the situation. he had simply gone too far in training.

instead of going to someone else, he came to you? the thought made you frown in a caring matter. you looked at him closely. his eyes glistened, looking like he’s more hurt about your reaction instead from his own wounds. his white shirt had splotches of grass and dirt on it. you couldn’t help but feel responsible for your lover in this moment. you knew he only worked hard to be stronger for you and himself.

“come in, no- don’t lay on that. your shirt is covered with dirt. take it off!” you spoke to him in a exaggerated tone.

izuku froze in his movements, thinking about what you just said to him. he’s not in middle school anymore, why is he getting flustered right now?! izuku curses teenage hormones for existing.

rather too quickly for his liking: izuku’s face flushed and he nervously toyed with his shirt, “take it off?!”

“yes. babe.” you looked at him with a puzzled expression, holding a small first aid kit in your hand (you made it for izuku at the very start of the school year after learning that he often injures himself). “i need to see where your hurt.”

“oh… right!”

it took him a minute to compose himself, his shyness taking over as he carefully took off his shirt. the act made you almost want to laugh as you’ve seen him without a shirt on multiple occasions.

your giggly mood was completely knocked away when you took in the sight of a rather red slash on his lower abdomen.

you moved towards your boyfriend who sat against your bed frame, legs spread as if anticipating you to settle yourself in between them. that’s exactly what you did.

“whoa, what the hell happened here?”

“landed on a piece of rock while jumping… scratched myself. i already did hydrotherapy like you said, i didn’t have the materials to do anything else though.”

you hummed at his words, picking up a antibiotic and placing it on izukus wound with your right hand. he hissed at the sting and you rubbed his side with your left hand in an attempt to comfort him. it worked. izuku relaxed at the feeling of your touch on his skin.

the room was quiet, lights slightly dim, as you worked. placing gauze and then bandage around his abdomen, wrapping it twice for good measure.

you looked up, softly grabbing your boyfriends face and turning it left to right.

izuku stared at you with his bright green eyes and you blushed under his stare. you felt him toy with the bottom of your top, fiddling with the material.

“stop distracting me, i’m trying to check for cuts.”

“sorry! you’re just so pretty… and a really good doctor.”

you let a grin and cackle slip at his words. he laughed at your reaction, watching you carefully as you stood up. you moved towards your wardrobe and opened a drawer. izuku tilted his head in wonder, what were you doing?

you pulled out a shirt and a pair of pj pants. izuku intrigued at the items. those were both his, when had he put them in your drawer?

“oh, you left them after you slept here. i just figured i should give your stuff its own drawer.”

izuku hadn’t realized he spoke out loud and he only stared at you in silent shock. you were too good for him.

you tossed the clothes towards him as he rested against your pillows, staring at you in adoration.

“what?” you plopped down beside him, nudging his bicep as he looked down at you.

“you’re too good for me. thank you.”

you lit up at his loving words. if there was one thing izuku was perfect at, it was making you feel loved unconditionally no matter what.

“oh stop, you’re too good for me.”

“we could argue about this for hours, just accept it.”

“um no! everyone knows you’re too good for me.”

“i’ll start rambling about you if you don’t stop.”

“… and who says i wouldn’t like that?”

izuku paused, a grin slowly creeping up on his face at your serious expression.

you cracked, turning into a laughing fit and he laughed with you, holding you in his arms. the pain that he felt in his muscles not too long ago had seemingly faded away as soon as he held you in his embrace. your warmth and love felt as though it healed him.

izuku hated relying on others. but, he knows no matter what — you’ll always make sure he knows he can rely on you for anything.

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: the hashira men w/ a demon!SO that’s immune to sunlight pt2

characters: fem!reader x sanemi

warnings: blood, injuries, language, angst

pt. 1 w rengoku and giyuu HERE

SANEMI

this poor man can just never be happy huh

now i find it very hard to believe that sanemi would be with a regular civilian

he’s gotta know that his SO is able to take care of themself

SO

ur a slayer and you guys are paired up on a mission together

there were reports of several low ranking demons being sighted in a town

so Sanemi decides to split up and to meet back up when the sun begins to rise

when you don’t show up at the meeting place he knows something is very very wrong

tears through the town looking for you

and he finds you alright

laying in a pool of your own blood

haori torn to shreds

sword broken

he doesn’t even walk toward you

he’s frozen

his blood has literally gone cold

stands there staring at your broken body until the kakushi arrive

when they do they quickly realize that you are alive and sanemi snatches your limp body from them and SPRINTS to the butterfly mansion

he hands you off to Shinobu who gets to work immediately

he waits there for her to give him an update

and boy does she

you? a demon?

his sweet loving girlfriend is a demon?

it can’t be true. you were laying in the sun.

he tells shinobu this and she says that she’ll have to do some more testing when you wake up

it’s 3 days later when you finally do wake up

and when you do you’re greeted with 2 low ranking slayers pointing their swords at your neck

of course they had to keep you guarded in case you woke up and needed a snack

the human kind

screaming for shinobu she rushes into the room

she sends the slayers out and quickly explains what has happened to you

you ask for sanemi

and your heart breaks when she tells you that he hasn’t visited

not once since she told him what you had become

a few more days pass with shinobu running a bunch of tests

she concludes that you’re somehow immune to the sun and that you don’t have an appetite for humans

and still no sign of sanemi

he hasn’t responded to any of your letters either

when shinobu releases you from her care you head to sanemi’s estate

when you knock on his door he opens, looks at you

and then slams it right back in your face

so you leave

as the weeks pass you throw urself into training with Nezuko who you’ve become friends with

but other than to train you don’t leave your estate

you have locked yourself away from the world

believing that sanemi hates you because of what you are

a monster

it’s not until Genya visits you and sees how pitiful you look that something is done

Genya storms to his brothers home

the ground practically shaking under his steps

Genya literally slaps some sense into Sanemi

like actually slaps the shit outta him

Genya is the only person that could get away with something like that other than you lol

not 10 minutes after genya left your home you get a very hesitant knock on your door

you don’t answer

so Sanemi takes it upon himself to walk in

and he finds you sitting on the floor staring at the wall with a blank look on your face

he sets a gentle hand on your shoulder and you don’t react

you don’t move a muscle

you don’t even blink

it’s as if you’re in a trance

he takes in the dark circles under your eyes

and the frown that looks like it’s permanently stretched across your face

and the guilt hits him full force

kneeling next to you and pulling you into his lap

he buries his face into your hair

and he cries

“i’m so fucking sorry”

“if i didn’t decide to split up this wouldn’t have happened”

“it’s my fucking fault”

and then he feels you pull away from him

his eyes are still closed with tears slipping down his face

and then a small cold hand is wiping the tears from his face

“you left me” you say

and his eyes shoot open

to see you with tears in your eyes

he looks away

“i can’t look at you knowing that this is my fault” he says in between cries

“why are you here now?” you ask

he pulls you back into his chest and say

“Genya told me how you’ve been acting and I can’t stand knowing that you’re unhappy”

you push yourself closer to him and say

“if you want me to be happy, then stay”

he takes a deep breath

“i’ll stay”

[hothammies]

will byers, the resident sniper and medic - apoc au details under the cut!

---

will's role in the party:

a scouter - stays back to watch over the area during runs w/his rifle and is a backup supply runner if need be. just prefers to scout with dustin and mike

medic - normally takes care of the group regarding injuries and medicine. is very gentle :)

the angel on mike's shoulder -> knows how to placate mike the best if mike's being unreasonable or too harsh

most knowledgable about the infection and how it works -> helps with understanding the patterns of infected people, what attracts infection, etc.

party mediator - rarely ever fights with anyone (mostly with mike haha) and is usually the person people most often go to for a vent or a rant

skills + hobbies:

best with a rifle + second best with guns! -> he practices a lot with lucas but refuses to kill animals

cook of the group along with el (taught her how to cook): rest of the party can make edible food but don't know how to make it taste good

great knowledge of plants and medicine -> jonathan and joyce taught him all they know about it (they are healers)

draws in a sketchbook that mike stole from another group for him: filled with mundane sketches from life and treats it like a daily journal

likes to collect cds and cassettes that he finds around to play in the car (him and max discuss music the most) - fave bands include system of a down, gorillaz, the clash and the cure :) he's an alt rock fan!

quirks / fun facts:

him and lucas have an ongoing competition that started with their aim and is now based on literally anything -> they've been keeping score since they were nine (lucas is currently up by ten and the points are in the thousands)

will shuffles different music in the car and observes who in the party likes what so he can make his own little mental playlists for them!

him and dustin talk a lot about how the infection works. they have some very intense debates about it, especially when it comes to if the infected still have human consciousness or not (will thinks they do, dustin thinks they don't)

--- other notes: canon will, in a short summary, is a very sweet, sensitive, empathetic and capable boy who consistently puts others needs before his own :') of course, i wanted apoc will to share those attributes, with a big emphasis on his empathy, strength, and kindness. first - i wanted him to be a medic to show how he cares about other people and how he helps the people he loves as well. it's shown a lot in the show how much he cares for people and living beings (see: his actions with dart, el, mike, feeling bad for jonathan's hand after he had just woken up, etc.) and him being a healer is very in tune with this behavior. will as a healer is very special to me :') and him learning this skill from his mom and his brother strengthens the theme of family also!

second - him being good with a hunting rifle was to showcase his quiet strength and capability (i'd also like to add that his dexterity on his dnd sheet is extremely high) -> he's a non-confrontational survivor. his strength shines from afar and is put on the backlight, but no one in the party thinks will is weak for his empathy. mike and lucas, in particular, are actually quite jealous of the fact that will is still able to see so much good in humanity and life while being so strong. of course, his connection to the upside down in st is mirrored in this au as well, where he has an innate understanding of how the infection works because of experience, observation and other story spoilers...

looking at the current poll results, it seems im going to be drawing lucas and max next :D see you for that!

[myfictionaldreams]

Talk To Me // James Potter x Fem!Reader

Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: It had been three weeks since you'd spoken to James. Three long weeks since emotions were subtly revealed, you weren't sure how long you could go without seeing him. However, will a Quidditch accident draw you both back together or push each other apart?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, ANGST (!), depression, arguing, injury/blood, ex-friends w/benefits to lovers, kinda love triangle, mutual pining, kissing, confrontation, fingering, praise kink, happy ending

Words: 5.3k

Tagslist: @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo, @kezibear, @liv2post, @imdoingbetternow, @omwtohellttyl, @sheblogs, @keemsweems, @mora-miserium, @marmie-noir

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During your second year at Hogwarts, James had accidentally dyed your hair bright green, and you'd given him the silent treatment for a shocking 6 hours before he found you in the corridor, his hair a matching shade of green. The two of you laughed about it until tears were streaming down your cheeks. The had been the longest the two of you had ever gone without talking or being mad at the other.

Until now.

Three weeks ago, you and James had a potentially friendship-ending argument. It all started weeks before; James had finally secured a date with his long-term crush, Lily, but, in his haste to make sure he was perfect for the date, he admitted to you that he'd never kissed another person. Being the good friend that you were, you offered to teach him.

This was your first mistake. Blurring the lines between friendship and physical relief broke down the barriers around your heart, and as the lessons continued, you found James on your mind, filling your stomach with butterflies. It all came to an end, however, after you both admitted feeling jealous of the other but couldn't take that step to secure any form of relationship other than friendship due to Lily, so after an emotional quickie in the spare room at the Hog's Head, you decided to walk away altogether.

Three weeks didn't seem like much time at all in the grand scheme of things. But to you, it felt like a lifetime. A lifetime of faking smiles to your other friends, ignoring questioning stares and conversations about why you and James weren't talking to one another. Pretending that everything was okay was slowly and intricately destroying your soul. You were slowly running out of shadows and quiet corners to cry when the others weren't looking.

It had been so long now that there was even a silent routine between you and James. He'd rush to breakfast in the morning, eat and leave before you slowly trudged your way there. During classes, you'd be at the front and he at the back, running away before you had even collected your bag to leave. Then there was the downtime, usually the Shrieking Shack or the Common Room, where you'd relax and unwind, but now the library had a special place in your heart or your bed.

Many whispers had spread about why the two of you had suddenly stopped being the inseparable force you once were. Even teachers had questioned you as to why you were distancing yourself from Potter. Every time it was discussed, a shrug of your shoulders and an 'it's none of your business later', the conversations were dropped.

Every second of every day, you would plaster a fake smile onto your face and pretend everything was okay, but in reality, you were cursing yourself for ever letting your emotions dictate your friendship. You missed James so much that it felt like you'd lost your shadow, like something you had become so used to being at your side that the moment it wasn't there anymore, you never realised how lonely life could be.

Then, of course, there was Lily, who tried her utmost to support you and vigorously questioned James at every opportunity about why he had hurt you. Even after insisting that it wasn't the case (it was, but she didn't need to know the specifics), she still couldn't comprehend why the two of you had suddenly stopped talking.

You were worried that it was beginning to affect the relationship that had been building between James and Lily, which also was why the breakdown between you and James had occurred. However, Lily insisted that everything was fine between the two of them.

You'd never been in love before; you were pretty damn sure that what you were feeling was close to it because you were just about ready to give it all up and apologise to James just to have him back in your life. Even if that meant having to watch his relationship with Lily blossom into more, you just wanted him back in your life. However, you still need to work up the courage to do this.

They say that time is the greatest healer, but right now, time is kicking your ass and making everything feel worse. Precisely as the weekends rolled around. Where did you go? Where could you hide? 

"Why don't you come along to the match later?" Lily urged from where she had perched at the edge of her bed opposite yours.

You were facing her from where you lay on your bed, spooning your pillow and ignoring the rest of the world outside of the dormitory doors. "Who's playing?" you asked in a thickly croaky voice from its lack of use.

Lily paused for a second, knowing the answer probably wasn't what you wanted to hear as she confirmed, "Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff".

"No thanks", you say tiredly, closing your eyes and deciding that you could sleep all weekend instead.

Lily's bed creaked as she moved to sit beside you instead, pulling the pillow from your grip and gently pushing against your shoulder so you shuffled backwards, making room for her to lie beside you.

"Well, if you aren't coming because of a certain Marauder, maybe it's better that he'll be playing. At least you won't have to talk to him or stand in the crowd with him during the match and after, he'll be celebrating with the others anyway".

Thinking it over, you already knew from the determination in Lily's forest green eyes that she wasn't going to back down from this conversation until you had opted to go, so with a lazy shrug of your shoulders, you agreed to join, "But only if I can skip the after party".

Lily sighs, already springing out of bed, "Thank Merlin for that. I was worried I'd have to jinx you to get you out of this bed. No offence, love, but moping around and feeling sorry for yourself doesn't suit you. I want my bad bitch friend back, the one who doesn't care what others think as long as she's having a good time. That's all that matters".

Her encouraging words bring a smile to your face as you sit up with a bit more enthusiasm. "You're right; we can still have fun, can't we?"

"That's the spirit!" Lily cheers as she begins to layer her body for the crisp, cool weather outside. However, as she wrapped the red scarf around her neck, she paused and looked at you sceptically. "I don't support. Can I convince you to talk to me about what's going on? I've hardly seen James in weeks, so I can't get any information from him. I've even tried to get the information from Sirius, but he's just as confused as everyone else. It seems out of nowhere for you both to be giving each other the silent treatment."

Attempting to keep your face neutral at hearing that Lily and James' potential relationship was being affected was more complicated than you'd thought. Guilt panged in your stomach, filling it with an unnatural heaviness as you realised that a speck of hope had filled your heart at this news. However, it all diminished as you realised that if anything had happened between you and James, it would have done so much by now. He had made no effort to talk to you, and the same depressive cycle was still rotating around.

Lily sighs, having watched the emotions spiral across your face. Reaching over to warmly hold your hand, she insisted, "Listen, you don't have to tell me what's happened, but I need you to know that whatever it is, you know I'm always going to be your friend, and I don't want you to feel alone either so whenever you're ready. I'm here for you".

Even though her words were comforting, they only made you feel worse and reminded you of just how bad of a friend you were. There was no way you could tell her you'd been seeing James, even if it had been disguised as teaching and that he and Lily weren't officially dating yet; it still felt like a betrayal.

Squeezing her hand back and not being able to find the words to say, Lily filled the silence with her sarcastic words. "Right anyway, up you get and go and shower. You're starting to smell as bad as the boys, and we'll head to the pitch".

You tearfully laugh at her words and clamber out of bed.

With your arm linked with hers, it was refreshing to be outside for once, but the nerves remained regardless, even if you had plastered a fake smile onto your face and began to cheer with the rest of the crowd without a care in the world. It was simple to watch Quidditch whilst trying not to look for James; you'd resorted to starting at the goals on either end and waiting for the points to add up.

About half an hour into the game, a boisterous shout came from Frank Longbottom behind you as he bellowed, "Come on, Potter, what's taking you so long!"

Only then did you notice he'd flown so close to the crowd that you looked to your right and saw James hovering on his broom only a few meters away, his brows furrowed in concentration as he searched from the golden snitch.

Without missing a beat, he lifted his middle finger and pointed it toward Frank, a smile spreading across his handsome face that soon faltered as he followed the direction of the finger, and his eyes solemnly turned to you, noticing your presence for the first time.

The hand lowered as you both seemed to be caught in a breathless staring content, not wanting to look after. It had been the closest you'd been to one another in three weeks. The want, the need, the ache of missing him returned full force, and even though you wanted to look away, you couldn't. It was like an elastic band was tied between the two of you, not allowing the other to tug or stretch away.

It was only as a blur of darkness appeared over James' shoulder that a different sort of urgency overcame you as you screamed his name in warning. "JAMES!" however, there was no time to warn him adequately as the impending bludger collided with the side of his head, knocking him unconscious, and his body slipped from the broom, hitting the sides of the stands before tumbling to the ground.

You moved on instinct, pushing past the bodies surrounding you at the moment of collision, not even waiting to see if his fall was a cushion or caring that students couldn't go onto the pitch mid-game. You frantically sprinted down the stairs, ignoring the pain flaring in your lungs and calves from the sudden exhaustive exercise and then you were on the grass.

It felt as if your heart was going to stop beating when you saw James lying unmoving on the pitch; you weren't even aware that you were screaming and pleading his name as you ran to his side just as Sirius ungracefully landed on James' opposite side.

The two of you rolled him onto his face, and as you released an almighty sob, Sirius mumbled, "Holy Shit", as he pried the smashed glasses from his face, carefully trying to make sure no further glass had embedded into his face.

There was so much red on his head and face, but also down his arm and side where he'd collided with the stand, ripping the clothes and scraping the skin beneath.

Without thinking, you pressed your hand to the side of his face, ignoring the warm wetness that flowed from his injuries, staining your fingers as you pleaded, "James, please wake up. Can you hear me?"

"There's so much blood", Sirius whispered in shock as he began to try and wave his wand over the injuries to try and stem the bleeding.

"James, I really need you to wake up! Please, it's me, I'm here – I'm sorry," it was your turn to whisper as you leaned over his body, your face now over his, the tears dripping down your cheeks falling down onto his, causing little rivering paths in the blood on his face.

Thankfully, hope came in the sign of a deep groan from the man beneath you, his eyelids fluttering as they fought to open. "James, can you hear me? Please open your eyes, I need to know you're okay".

James opened his eyes, the hazel having never appeared so bright before even if they were unfocused, and he blinked in confusion. "You're here?" he asked, trying to raise his injured arm, but all it did was twitch awkwardly beside Sirius, so you quickly grabbed the other hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yes, I'm here, it's me. Try not to talk; I need you to save your energy and stay awake. Everything will be okay".

"You're really here? With me?" James asked, still staring but not really seeing anything.

"Yes, I'm here. So is Sirius; you scared us, you know that, right?" you tried to joke, but it just came out sounding desperate.

"I missed you", he drawled tiredly, his words becoming slurred as his eyes dropped, so you gently patted his wet cheek.

"Hey, please don't fall asleep; you've had a big knock to your head. I need you to stay awake. I need you to listen when I say I've missed you too".

James smiles as his eyes look like they're searching over your face, but you know it is probably a blur without his glasses. "Love…" then his eyes closed and didn't open again.

You and Sirius stayed in silence for a breath. You weren't sure of his following words, whether it was just a pet name or something more, but as Lily and the other Gryffindors, as well as the teachers, finally arrived to help, you tried not to overthink it as you took plenty of steps back to allow him the help he needed.

However, a firm hand around your upper arm had you pulled away out of earshot of the others as Sirius furiously looked down at you, "What the fuck happened between you two?"

You couldn't think straight, only answering him with a shake of your head as you stared at the redness beginning to dry on your hands. Sirius took a deep breath, trying to calm his manner before speaking again. "Whatever it is,  it shouldn't have taken him to look like this for you to talk to him or him to talk to you. I hate seeing my friends like this; the world is dark, and you can't let these emotions get in the way. Whatever the emotions are. I need you both to be okay".

James was carried to the hospital wing just as Hufflepuff caught the snitch and won the game. You'd remained a step behind the rest of the group of teammates and friends, feeling numb and broken as everyone kept talking about the brutal fall James had experienced. Once in the hospital wing, everyone was escorted away by Madam Ppomfrey, who declared that she couldn't tend to her patient with the entirety of Gryffindor watching over her shoulder, which gave you ample opportunity to go to the dormitory and sit in the shower until your fingers had pruned from the amount of time spent in the water.

Gryffindor Tower was remarkably quiet that evening, most deciding to have an early night in. You, on the other hand, were wide awake, stuck between whether you should visit him or not, but in the end, as the sun had set, you realised there was no way you could sleep without making sure he was okay first.

Playing with the edges of your sleeve as you approached his bed, you halted as you heard a soft feminine voice, then noticed that Lily was next to James, holding his hand, and you cursed yourself. Of course, she would be here; why wouldn't she?

Lily had heard your footsteps and turned her head, standing when she saw you'd joined before looking down at James, who hadn't blinked once since he saw you enter the room; he now had glasses on and bandages crossed over his right arm and bare chest. A bandage also wrapped around his head, half covering his hair, but the scratches and cuts still peaked from beneath and travelled down his cheek from where his glasses had cut his skin.

As you stepped further into the room, you could sense something in the atmosphere but couldn't quite name the feeling. Lily glanced at James, who finally looked away from you to her. They shared a smile that had you turning away.

"I hope you're feeling better soon, Potter. And don't forget about next week", she reminded lightheartedly, and your chest tightened. "I'll leave you two to talk".

Finally looking away from the crack on the floor, you saw that Lily was giving you a bright smile, her eyes twinkling as she stopped next to you, her fingers gripping onto yours as she leaned close to whisper, "We have lots to talk about, but you're still my best, don't forget that".

Confused by her words, you watched her leave before turning back to James. There had never been a moment you had ever felt awkward whilst in the presence of James, but as you stood there playing with the edges of your sleeves, you were at a complete loss for words.

"Madam Pomfrey said there was nothing she could do; I'm stuck like this" James finally broke the tension with an awkward shrug of his shoulders, his eyes wide and full of disdain.

Your breath caught in your throat, "Nothing she could do? Wha-What for? Is it your head? Your arm?" you ask whilst taking an unsteady step towards him, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear.

James shook his head, a glimpse of a smile beginning to turn at the corner of his lips, "She said there was nothing she could do for my handsomeness, that I was going to be stuck with this pretty face for the rest of my life. She's just as gutted as I am", he finished with a shit-eating grin, showing his straight teeth.

Breathing heavily out of your nose, you drop your head to hide your smile, "You're such an idiot", you say lightheartedly.

"I know", he responded in a more serious tone. "A big fucking stupid idiot who misses his best friend".

"I've missed you too", you say, rushing to his side, sitting close to his bandaged arm, taking his hand delicately and relaxing as his thumb brushed against the back of your knuckles.

"I'm sorry", you both speak simultaneously and then lightly chuckle. You admire your joined hands, hating the way that your heart feels that it looks so right to be holding his hand. When had you become so infatuated with him?

"This entire situation had become such a mess", you admitted, still not looking him in the eyes.

"I know," he agreed solemnly, still squeezing your hand. Finally, your eyes flick up to his, and you release a slow breath, seeing his eyes are focused and entirely on you, the caramel flecks in his eyes shining brighter than ever. James tried to sit up further in the bed, attempting to hide a wince that you noticed immediately before collapsing back into the pillow and looking at you sadly. "Tell me how to fix things between us", he implored. "I can't keep going without you there every day".

"I don't know", you admit whilst watching his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose and without thinking, you reach forward to push them back to normal; however, your fingers linger in the air before settling on cupping his cheek, brushing against the side that wasn't injured.

James sighed, closing his eyes to lean into the touch, but then his following words had dread stiffening your spine, the sensation of ice being poured over you as he admitted, "I told Lily everything".

You're standing and moving away before you can even gasp the word, "What?!"

James looked at you in alarm, trying to sit up again and failing, swearing up his breath as he grabbed his side. Seeing him in pain, you rush back to his side, gently push him back into the bed and tell him to stop moving. Only when he finally stopped breathing hard and had drank the green potion that was on his bedside table for pain relief did you confirm with him, "When you say you told her, how much exactly?"

"Everything. I had to. It was eating me up and getting between us; I couldn't let it keep going on; I thought I was going insane with guilt".

"What did she say?" you asked tentatively.

"Honestly? She suspected something was going on, but not quite what was actually happening. Well, to be truthful, she found it funny that you'd been teaching me all these sex things to potentially use on her and couldn't comprehend that the popular James Potter hadn't kissed anyone before, let alone anything else" You rolled your eyes at his words but remained silent, waiting to hear more. "I've been pushing her away since that first date, especially over the last three weeks. This gave her something to be suspicious of, I'd been after her for years, and the moment there was a chance, I could hardly talk to her. I think my mind and heart was preoccupied".

The sincerity in his eyes had you leaning closer, taking his hand once more. "What happens now, then? Does she hate us?"

"No, I don't think so. Evans is such a bloody good friend. She congratulated me on admitting how I felt for you before slapping me on my good arm for being an idiot and letting this silent treatment go on for so long".

You couldn't help but giggle at your friend's fiery reaction, but then his words dawned on you. "And how do you feel?"

His gaze softened as his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips. "I need to tell you something", he finally admitted, and your first thoughts were the one word he mumbled whilst half unconscious on the quidditch pitch.

"Don't say something you're going to regret, Potter".

"I'd never regret it. I've never done anything like this before, but I know I can't ever not have you in my life. These last three weeks have been, frankly, fucking shit. I haven't been able to sleep, I can't concentrate in class or during quidditch practice, I feel like I'm missing a part of me".

"That's how I've felt too", you admitted hopefully, leaning closer. James released a slow breath, hearing that you felt similar to how he had.

"I want you to be mine", he desperately asked before closing his eyes and shaking his head like he hadn't meant to say that but couldn't help himself. "It's just that it's probably too soon, I mean, obviously, with Lily, people might get confused- I don't want- I mean, I do want, I-".

You'd never before seen James stumble over his words. There was one thing that he was and that was confident and somewhat arrogant so to see him struggling to form the correct sentence had the anxiety melting away and your face leaning forwards until your lips softly pressed together. His mumbling stopped instantly as he relaxed into the kiss, taking a second to simply close his eyes and be in the moment.

The restraint he held smashed into a thousand pieces, however, as his hand came up to cradle your cheek, pulling you even closer, his lips pressing with more urgency and needy as you whimpered into the caress. Your hands raised to wrap around his neck, being careful of his bandages as you moved.

As you both kissed, you couldn't help but think back to all those weeks ago when James was experiencing his first kiss with you, and now you were the one clinging to him, breathless and dizzy with need.

His soft lips moved and opened, deepening the kiss further but then pulled back an inch so that he could finally say against your mouth, "I'm so fucking in love with you". You pressed your body and lips firmly against his, burning with emotion and desire as you desperately pleaded the words back to him in between kisses.

You needed him, body, mind and soul. You were gripping onto the patch of unbandaged hair like it was your lifeline, just as he was doing to your face with his left hand. Then it all came crashing down as a stern cough came from the bottom of the bed.

You both pulled away from one another so swiftly that you tripped over your own feet and nearly caused his bedside table to crash over. Still, you quickly rectified your mistake just as James covered his lap with the pillow behind his head, hiding the apparent bulge that had hardened as Madam Pomfrey looked between the two of you with her lips pursed.

"Well, it seems you're recovering quite well, doesn't it, Mr Potter?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

James coughed awkwardly and then grinned cheekily, shrugging his good shoulder, "Well, I didn't injure my mouth now, did I?"

You glared at his cocky reaction, mortified that you'd just been caught making out by a teacher. "Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I was just leaving", you answered whilst still staring daggers at James, who frowned at your words.

"No, you weren't. Actually, she's here to help me apply that salve you gave me for the cuts" he nodded toward the clear tub next to his bed. "I'm sure there are plenty of other things you'd rather be doing than rubbing my back, Madam Pomfrey".

You could have screamed at James' blatant sass. The Matron looked towards the ceiling of the hospital wing and sighed, "I don't get paid enough to deal with your sass, Mr Potter. You both have 15 minutes and then the hospital wing is closed to all visitors. Do I make myself understood?" When you both nodded eagerly, she finally began to move away. She stopped, looking pointedly at James, who looked at her with big, innocent eyes. "Might I remind you, Mr Potter, that any extracurricular activities will tear open the wounds I have just closed, and I have an excellent hearing".

Your face burned with embarrassment, but James took it in his stride, pretending to look innocent, "I don't know what you mean, Madam Pomfrey? I'm sure I won't tear any stitches with hand holding".

The Matron rolled her eyes before walking off to her office at the door at the end of the room. Once alone again, you couldn't help but curse at James, who laughed with his head tipped back, removing the pillow to see the bulge still evidently there. "James, you bloody idiot! That was mortifying!"

Sitting on the side of the bed, you held his uninjured hand in one of yours and then reached for the clear tub of salve in the other. "So how do I apply this? Does it need to go everywhere?" you asked curiously.

However, James didn't answer and removed his hand from yours. Instead, he moved it to the waistband of your jeans, especially to the button, and quickly undid it with a simple flick of his fingers. You gripped said fingers tightly, nearly dropping the tub and looking at him sharply. "James, what the fuck are you doing? Did you not just hear her? Your wounds could open again, and might I remind you that she's just at the end of the fucking hall!" you whispered at the end of the sentence harshly as he continued to look at you nonchalantly.

"You'll just have to be quiet then," he shrugged, trying to return his fingers to the zipper of your jeans, but you halted his movements again.

"James, no! I'm not having you become more injured!" you insisted.

James rolled his eyes. "This hand isn't injured, is it? All you need to do is sit on my fingers; it's not exertive, right?"

Heat flushed through your entire body at his words as you bit your lip, subtly attempting to cross your legs to squeeze your thighs together. "We- We still can't!"

"Why not?" he asked, and you couldn't quite answer as all you could think about was his fingers inside of you. When you didn't say anything, he continued with his voice lowered, "I've been craving to touch your body for three long weeks; I thought I'd lost you forever. I've finally got you back, and I know we have lots to talk about, but right now, all I can think about is your beautiful cunt and my fingers getting to touch it. My team lost their first game of Quidditch since I joined, I'm sore and fragile, are you really going to say no right now?" he blinked rapidly in a pleading manner with his best puppy dog eyes impression.

You giggled under your breath before releasing a slow breath, looking him deeply in the eyes before moving a little closer, uncrossing your legs and letting go of his hand.

"Thank Merlin", he pleaded thankfully as his finger moved back to the waistband of your jeans. "Remember to stay nice and quiet for me, Sweetheart, okay? Once I'm out of here, we can talk properly, but in the meantime, I just need to touch you".

You couldn't talk anyway as your thoughts were wholly overtaken with lust as you felt and watched his fingers touch the bare skin of your tummy as he pushed his left hand further beneath your jeans and then into your underwear. Your breath hitched as you unconsciously spread your legs whilst holding onto his forearm as the tips of his fingers grazed your labia.

Teasing beneath, he sucked in his own breath before muttering, "Already so wet for me. Has she missed me?"

"Yes", you whispered, looking up into his face, noticing a natural blush now coloured his cheeks as he licked his lips. Biting the inside of your cheek to remain quiet, your hips rocked forward as his middle finger finally stroked your clit, causing it to throb and your pussy to clench with need. Circling it slowly, he spread your juices over the sensitive nub before lowering two fingers to ease into your eagerly awaiting hole.

Your eyebrows furrowed from the subtle stretch of taking his two fingers past the first and second knuckle before stopping and allowing your body to accustom to the sensation. "I've missed this", he admitted as he began to rock his fingers in and out, hardly even blinking with how he watched your emotions flicker across your face.

You were concentrating so hard on trying not to make a noise that you hadn't realised how firmly you were holding onto James' forearm, but he never complained.

In and out, the fingers moved, slowly inching deeper until nearly the entire digits were consumed in your cunt, and the heel of his palm was pressed firmly against your swollen clit. "There she is", James praised as he began to curl his fingers whilst rubbing his palm against your bundle of nerves, causing your eyes to widen and mouth to drop open in silent pleasure.

Quickly covering your mouth with your hand, you tried to cover your soft gasps as you continued to look into James' hungry eyes. The only noise that could be heard was the squelch of your wetness and the rapid breathing from James.

A noise at the end of the hall had you both pausing as a candle flicked from movement outside of the hospital wing. The door was right there; anyone could walk in, including Madam Pomfrey and yet James didn't stop; he was a feral man in need of feeling you cum; he wasn't even sure he'd stop if you were both caught.

Your body was beginning to tremble with how good his hand felt, and you wished you could repay the favour, even glancing over to the noticeably throbbing bulge beneath the thing sheet, but then he shook his head.

"Not tonight. Let me just feel you. Come on, Sweetheart, I know you're holding back. I want you to cum on my fingers; you can do it", he pleaded, his digits continuing to curl right into that beautiful spot that had the tightness in your abdomen coiling until you were on the very edge of bliss.

Your thighs clamped around his hand as you held your breath, dropping your hand to grip the blanket across his lap, leaning your forehead against his as you sweetly moaned, "James", ever so quietly under your breath.

"Fuck yes, Sweetheart, that's a good girl, taking my fingers so well", James praised as you came all over his fingers, soaking his hand and your panties further. He didn't stop the press of his palm or the curl of his fingers until you were sated, half slumped against his chest, completely relaxed.

Carefully he pulled his hand from your underwear and began to greedily suck the juices that soaked his hand. Watching him obscenely roll his eyes back and moan at the taste, you couldn't deny the intense arousal that pulsed in your cunt once more, but instead o acting on these emotions, you hastily had to button up your jeans as Madam Pomfrey's office door opened.

Standing on unsteady legs, you tried to ignore the MAtron as she approached. Leaning forward, you kissed James quickly on the lips. "I'll come and visit you in the morning", you say in a rush, not being able to look Madam Pomfrey in the eye as you pass her, trying to walk as normally as possible.

"I'll be counting down the seconds until you're here", James shouted after you with a deep chuckle. Just as you exited the hospital wing, you could hear James ask the healer, "Looks like I do need your help after all with the salve. Unfortunately, we both got so lost in each other's eyes we simply forgot".

You tried not to release the laugh until, further down the corridor yo,u heard the heavy sigh of Pomfrey in response.

Things were sure to be stranger for a while, and now alone once more, you realised that you needed to go and speak to Lily about everything. At least you had James back and hoped that what he had said was true and that Lily would understand.

[lnfours]

doll | l.n

summary: ‘i’m not even joking when i say i’ve fallen in love w the way you write lando you have me giggling every single time and i love it - i’m not sure if your requests are open rn, but cld i request a lando x reader enemies to lovers kinda vibe? honestly whatever you wanna go with is fine but i need need tooth rotting fluff rn so maybe he has a nickname for her that only he uses and there’s a lot of oblivious-ness from both of them over the fact that they like each other :’‘)’ - @mars-dreamworld

warnings: fluff, language, enemies to lovers, female!racer, just overall a whirlwind of emotions. strap in.

masterlist | ask box 💌

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

lando norris was absolutely, most definitely, 100% the most insufferable person you had ever met.

in the beginning of the year, mclaren had announced that you’d be joining the team as a third driver, and of course people men took it to social media to express how they felt women didn’t belong in the sport. that racing was a ‘real man’s’ sport.

and now you needed to prove them all wrong, prove you were worth your spot on the team. you know you didn’t have to, that it wouldn’t necessarily change people’s minds, but you worked hard to be here. countless sleepless nights, crashes, tunings, everything, was worth this moment.

and now it was your chance. oscar had ended up with an injury after a crash in one of the practice races over the weekend, ultimately giving you his spot until he was recovered.

you and lando hadn’t really gotten along. you had found yourself battling with him on the track, the two of you going head to head in the garage after practices. you had thought his ego and his sarcasm was unattractive, whereas he simply just saw you as a threat.

but, deep down, he had a soft spot for you that he kept buried under the fake hatred. he didn’t actually hate you, who could? he admired your hard work and dedication, but be couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to take his spot.

“what the fuck, norris?!��� you yelled, throwing your helmet to the ground as you stormed over to him. he wore a smug look on his face that you would’ve found attractive if it weren’t for the fact that he felt the need to cut you off in turn 5.

“what?”

“are you thinking with your brain or your dick?!” you shoved his chest, but he didn’t move a muscle. he didn’t even budge, just looked down at you with those stupidly gorgeous green eyes.

“you’d know if i was thinking with my dick, doll.”

“don’t call me that.” you gave him a hard look and he put his hands up in fake surrender, shaking them like he was scared.

and that’s where it all started, that stupid fucking nickname. every time he said it, it made your blood boil, made you want to connect your knee with his crotch. now that he knew how to press your buttons, he wasn’t ever going to let you live.

right now, your face was red as your blood boiled, sitting in the drivers room as your leg bounced. the two of you had it out again today, the crew immediately separating the two of you and telling you both to knock it off.

the embarrassment from your crew telling you to quit acting like a child replayed in your head the rest of the day and as you sat in drivers room, and slowly your anger turned into sadness. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but you failed. the tear rolled down your cheek and you sniffled to yourself.

but of course, the door opened at the wrong time, causing you to wipe your cheeks quickly before looking at who decided to barge in. your eyes met lando’s green ones, which immediately softened upon looking at you.

“can i help you with something?”

he licked his lips, his brain going a mile a minute. why were you crying? was it because of him? fuck.

“i uhm,” he stammered over his words, letting out a breath before speaking, “are you crying?”

you shook your head, wiping your cheek on the shoulder of your race suit, “no.”

he knew better, though. the door closed behind him as he sat across from you, “you don’t have to lie, y/n.”

the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue with that stupid accent made your stomach do flips, but you refused to give in. this is what he wanted, right? pull you close enough to destroy you and prove to everyone that you’re actually not good enough to be here.

“why do you care?” you asked, an eyebrow raising, “it’s not like you actually give a fuck, so can you go somewhere else with your fake sympathy?”

he immediately got defensive, “what makes you think i don’t care about you? would i have run over to you the other day at practice when you crashed if i didn’t care about you?”

you thought back to last week, your car going into the barrier on the track. lando had seen the crash, immediately following the crew onto the track and ignoring the drop in his stomach. you had climbed out, shaken up but okay when he reached you. he grabbed onto your shoulders after you tugged your mask and helmet off, your eyes distant as he searched them.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with concern, “y/n, are you okay?”

you snapped out of it, meeting his eyes before you looked down at your body, “i think so…?”

he grabbed your face into his hands gently, turning your face side to side as he tried to examine you. the medics pulled up, rushing over to you.

“it’s okay, we’ve got it from here.” the female said to lando. he hesitated before he let go, letting them lead you over to the back of the ambulance to check you over. you looked back at him, the feeling of his hands on your cheeks lingering as they ushered you in.

you looked back at the brit, shrugging, “i dunno.”

he chuckled, but it wasn’t laced with humor, more like disappointment, “okay,”

“why would i think that when you’re always trying to prove that you’re better than me?”

he didn’t say anything, looking down at the tile floor, “because i’m threatened by you.”

you scoffed, “tell me something i don’t know.”

“no, you don’t get it,” he said, sitting up again, “i’m threatened by you because you’re good. you’re insanely good. you race well, you train hard, everyone here loves you, the fans. you’re an inspiration. something i’ve always wanted to be for someone.”

your attitude shifted, looking over at the boy across from you. he wore a sad, regretful face as he played with the zipper on his suit.

“you’re an inspiration, lando,” you said, “the little boy who dressed up like you the other day? the one who said he wanted to be just like you?”

he shrugged, “one boy compared to thousands of little girls who see themselves in you. i know i shouldn’t be upset, you’re literally changing history, but seeing it makes me wish i was someone like you.”

“you’re right, you’re not like me,” you said, moving to sit next to him, “you’re lando norris, the one who got P2 in your home grand prix a few weeks ago, the one who goes out of their way to say hi to literally all the fans and take pictures with them. you’re literally someone’s ray of sunshine.”

he smiled softly, letting you continue, “be like you. don’t be like me, lan.”

his head snapped up at the nickname, “did you just call me ‘lan’?”

a smile spread across his face and you let out a soft laugh, “i guess i did.”

he smiled back, “thank you, though. i needed that. and, i’m sorry for how i’ve been towards you.”

you waved him off, the smile still playing at your lips. you tried to bite it back with your lower lip tucked between your teeth. he swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight. you nodded your head softly, “we’re cool. just pipe down the ego a bit, yeah?”

he let out a chuckle. being this close to him made you realize there was a hint of blue in his green eyes, the short stubble growing back from where he had shaved his facial hair. he was undeniably pretty and you were getting wrapped up in him and distracted. he was doing the same, his eyes scanning over every single one of your facial features as he tried his hardest to memorize them.

you smiled softly, “why’re you looking at me like that?”

he smirked, “you mean the same way you’re looking at me?”

you blushed, turning away from him but his eyes were still locked onto you. you went to stand up, smiling softly at him as it was nearing the beginning of the next race.

“i’ll see you out there.”

he smiled, “see you out there, doll.”

you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh as you let the door close behind you, the nickname no longer making your blood boil but suddenly making your stomach do flips.

lando norris was going to be the death of you.

[killsaki]

aspirations ☆ your boss doesn’t understand why you let unimportant things hold you back when you can do better.

prohero!bakugou katsuki x f!sidekick!reader

3.8k words | old commission <3 | minors dni

cw / tw : cheating (not on reader), toxic relationship dynamics (not w/ bkg), fingering, blackmail, power dynamics.

this is… awkward.

bakugou katsuki feels awkward.

even in his pro-hero status, even with his usual lack of care for others and their affairs, standing at the door of his office, hearing you cry just outside of it... it’s the first time in a long time that he’s been made so… uncomfortable.

you’d come halfway across the country to work as a sidekick at the agency he ran with his old classmate, you were a promising upcoming hero who would surely do numbers once you got the right exposure and the right training. that’s the reason you picked up and moved so damn far from your hometown, from your life, from your boyfriend. at least that’s what you’ve babbled on about to bakugou while the two of you were on patrols.

you were under the impression you’d be working under deku at first and when you’d found out you were going to be working alongside dynamight you’d nearly pissed yourself and gone home, you admitted while slapping his shoulder with a laugh. something which you instantly apologized for and smoothed a hand over where you’d hit as if you’d caused the tank of a man any harm and needed to soothe the pain. you’d admit that he was far from the personality he portrayed for the media and that you’d come to enjoy being around him.

that’s why this was so weird for him. you were always so positive, a clumsy sort of happy. you were always shining, continuing conversations with him even as he shrugged you off, always laughing and tossing some kind of witty remark after he’d tell you to shut up. you were annoying at some point, but you’d pulled your weight during missions and you were a shoulder for him to lean on when he got injuries too severe to keep himself upright. you made the halls of the agency a friendlier place than they’d ever been, even with the kind and smiling hero working just on the other side of the building.

so, who could make someone like you weep like a child?

“you know i get paid in a few days, i can send it back to you.” you speak through a shaky breath and bakugou can’t help but lean closer to the thin wood that separates the two of you. “it’s not like that!” you hiccup, “you’re the one who asked if you could keep my car until i can help you get yours fixed.” the white in front of him blurs as he sorts through his thoughts, who could you possibly be having to explain yourself to? “toru, please. i just want to go to sleep, today was hard enough already.” the boyfriend. “so you really won’t pay for my uber because you’re mad about a picture of me and my boss? a picture of us doing our–”

bakugou doesn’t know why he does it, why he swings the door open and stares at you with such an annoyed expression. but he’s already doing it before he realizes and he regrets it when you jump, cutting yourself short.

“sorry,” you stare at him for a moment, taking in short breaths before you quickly wipe your face, and turn away from him. sniffling as the voice over the other end starts to become intelligible to the hero. “i just wanna get home, i’m just.. i’m sorry.”

there’s a short reply given and then, silence. it takes you a minute, and bakugou stands there waiting the entire time before you pull your phone away from your ear. the screen displaying your wallpaper, signaling that the other person had ended the call.

“i didn’t know you were still here.” you look up at one of the only fluorescent lights left on, blinking away the remnants of water in your eyes.

he sighs, checking the time on his watch before looking back up at you who has yet to spare him another glance. the trains had stopped running long ago, he didn’t need to check the time to tell him that. no, he was just checking to see how fucked up your boyfriend had to be to leave you walking on the streets at the hour, or in the hands of a stranger to get home. and it’s not that you weren’t capable on your own, more so that the guy didn’t understand how much danger it’d be if someone picked up on that pattern and took advantage of you being so tired from a full day's work. he wonders if even you have thought about that. or if that’s what you were thinking about now, as you stand in silence in a way that he’s never witnessed you do before

“i can give you a ride.” he offers and your eyes fall shut, a deep breath making your chest puff slightly and the blonde can’t help but pick up on your relief.

“i’d appreciate that.”

it’s a long, awkward walk out of the agency’s building to where he’s parked his car nearly a block away. the wind is blowing and he couldn’t imagine having to walk home himself like this.

“why don’t you park at the agency’s lot?” you ask arms wrapped around yourself. your voice is still soft but he doesn’t comment on it.

“safer for me not to, i change parking spots every few weeks.” he shrugs.

“you sure do think about everything, don't you, dynamight?” you tease, and it’s like you’re recovering bits of yourself that he can recognize.

“guess so.” he shrugs instead of lecturing you about how you should do the same, another thought too busy working it’s way from his mind to his mouth. “so why are you paying to fix his car while he uses yours?” bakugou lets his thoughts fall off his tongue, and answers your wandering mind that he did overhear most of your conversation.

“i have the job that pays more.” you reach for the seatbelt, buckling it before looking over the console and catching the red eyes that watch you so intently. “why? you looking for a cause to donate to?”

he sucks his teeth and buckles himself in, instructing you to put in your address on the car’s screen. you say something that makes yourself laugh as you lean in to do it, but it goes in one of his ears and out the other. it didn’t make any sense for you to be with someone who didn’t support you fully, someone who didn’t trust you. sure bakugou didn’t know all the details of your relationship– maybe you’d offered it up to him one day when he was too focused on how your eyes lit up to pay attention to what you'd been saying to him. but he wouldn’t know that now.

why would you of all people put up with that?

“are you gonna take me home or should i be fearing for my safety?” you raise your eyebrows to exaggerate a skeptical look, something that the blonde’s face twists up and makes you laugh. but the thought of your tears streaked face earlier appears back in his mind and he decides to let you off without a remark of his own.

“you could’ve just asked for a ride.” he glances over at you once he rolls up to a stop light and his heart feels like, just for a moment, that it stops. the sight of you under such soft red light, lips still swollen from the way you’d bitten them as you calmed yourself from crying, it does more to him than he’d like to admit. it takes everything in him to tear his gaze back to the road once the traffic signal turns green.

“if toru found out i was alone with you outside of work, let alone in your car,” you huff out an unamused laugh and it sounds awful in comparison to the sweet, hearty one he’s grown used to. “he would have a fit.”

“sounds like a real perfect guy.” bakugou doesn’t look at you as he follows the gps and turns the next corner, but he can feel your eyes on him. how they trace from the neons shining off his wristwatch up his toned arms that are littered in pink scars, can feel the heat of your stare when it’s guided to his chin where he wonders if you can see the stubble he didn’t care enough to shave away this morning.

“he’s alright.” you finally respond and it makes the prohero next to you feel ill. “my high school sweetheart and all… i’m sure it’s just a rough patch.”

“right.” it wasn’t his place to meddle into whatever you have going on in your personal life. but you were one to look at the brighter side of things, he wonders if that was something you’d always done or something you forced yourself into. “a rough patch.”

the time of arrival for the destination keeps creeping closer and bakugou doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so badly.

“thanks for the ride home, mr dynamight, sir.” you salute him and he just blinks, making you giggle as you gather your things from his car.

“bakugou,” he takes your cup from his console, despite the passing thought that the colors look nice against the ones of his car’s interior. “calling me bakugou outside the workplace is fine.”

you hesitate before taking the cup, and he hates the smile that creeps up on your face when you finally do grab it from him. why the hell would he say something unprofessional like that?

you skip off with a “goodnight, mr. bakugou, sir.” and head up to your front door without catching the sight of how dramatically he rolls his eyes, or the slight lift of his lips when he thinks about how your voice sounds addressing him as something other than his trademarked name.

and from there, it’s a slippery slope, he comes to realize.

one ride turns into twenty and soon enough he’s sitting in his office chair every night waiting for you to come to tell him that you’re ready to go home.

he finds the same kind of habit forms around your shared lunch break when the two of you are working in the office rather than on the field. you’d always walked past his office, but after a comment on one of those drives to your place, you’d started to welcome yourself into his office to compare lunches. and now he can't seem to bring himself to take a bite until you’ve wandered in and finished your bit.

like now, he sits with the same lunch he’s been eating since monday because he meal prepped this week, and he needs you to come in and tell him how boring it must be eating the same thing over and over. his fingertips pad impatiently at the wood of his desk, you're always in here by now.. now that he thinks about it, you hadn’t come to ask if his coffee was bitter after getting it for him this morning.

his phone buzzing in his slacks pulls him from the thought and throws him into another one.

deku: hey, i know you’re being kind to the sidekick and all… but didn’t you say her boyfriend would be mad if he knew you were giving her rides? you should think about how that would affect her working here.

the blonde sighs and he doesn’t even want to respond to the message. he’s already on edge after starving off his lunch, plus the fact you’re not being normal today, why is midoriya suddenly interested in how your professional relationship affects your at home life?

bakugou: would you rather some villain stalk her schedule and kidnap the sidekick that you requested to come out here?

he types out, and he’s right. he knows he’s right, he’s keeping you safe by picking you up and dropping you off from his car's undisclosed location.

deku: that’s not what i meant

bakugou taps the side of his phone as the three dots come and go as midoriya no doubt types up a paragraph that bakugou will most likely not read. where the hell are you?

bakugou: i’m just making sure she gets home alright.

he sends, hoping it’ll be enough to end the conversation. he locks his phone and places it on the table next to his meal, the meal that, after eyeing the door once more, he starts to dig into. it’s a few minutes before he gets the next notification, but when he reads it, he’s stuck staring at the chair you’re supposed to be in while he finishes eating.

deku: are you sure that’s all it is?

—

the two of you have grown close. that much is obvious to everyone who witnesses you by his side. he wouldn’t call himself fond of you, but he knows it’d be a lie to say he hates your presence, or that he doesn’t mind the absence of it. what he doesn’t understand is why the feeling in his chest is so intense when you walk in for your routine ride home with a blank expression and a single piece of paper in your hand.

“what is this?” he accepts it as you offer, and he’s half expecting it to be some stupid printed-out meme, or maybe even you showing off an email about a magazine cover that you landed. but instead, it’s formally addressed to him as–

“my letter of resignation.”

to say bakugou is confused is an understatement.

“i enjoyed working by your side. it was an experience i am sure will forever remain unmatched in my career.” your voice is shaking. the blonde tries to focus on the words in ink in front of him but nothing seems to register even as he eyes them over and over. “i’m very thankful for the time i was allowed to spend here, please don’t think otherwise. i’ll be sure to thank mr. deku as well for giving me the opportunity since–”

“why are you leaving?” his words come harsh, his face twisted up in a way he’s never shown to you and he’s not surprised when even then you don’t finch much.

“i need to go back home.” is all you let out, looking everywhere but at him.

he sits on it for a moment, that feeling in his chest starts to swell as he realizes the motives behind your actions today, behind this damn resignation letter.

“don’t you wanna be a big name pro?” he discard the paper on his desk as he pushes himself out of his chair to approach you. “so why are you throwing away your best chance— your only real chance at that for some small-town boyfriend?”

your eyes go wide as they tear from the back of his computer monitor to look into his own. the look of offense on your face is prominent but it’s nothing in comparison to the offense bakugou feels.

“it’s so much more than just my boyfriend.” you scoff, eyebrows knitting together. “what would you know?! you’re just my boss, you have no idea what my relationship is like.”

he’s never seen you mad before, you look… good.

“i know you’re sending money back home to cover his expenses. i know you’re paying for everything you have here all on your own.” he steps towards you with each sentence, making you take a step back in time with his strides. “i know he doesn’t check to see if you make it home safe, i know you’ve slept on the floor because you can’t afford furniture and food.”

you might not have told him much about your boyfriend, but he does know that he doesn’t deserve you... not the way that bakugou does.

“i never told you any of that..” your hand feels for the arm of the couch you’ve been backed into.

“you’re obvious.” he shrugs and it’s now that you start to breathe in short pants, your eyes dart to the door— unlocked but closed. then to his chest— he’s big, much bigger than you, stronger than you. “the last thing i would do is hurt you.” he tilts his head and your breathing clams, if only a little.

“sorry, i don’t know what i was thinking.” you whisper, you bring a hand to your forehead as you fall to sit on the arm of the couch. “today has just been... it’s been too much.”

bakugou nods. he hasn’t seen you cry since the first time he cared to listen to you speak. he doesn’t want to see that again, but he’d be bitter if the chance of it was taken away from him altogether.

“but you’ll stay.”

“i– i can’t stay. i’ll lose toru, i’ll lose the house,” you start gesturing around at nothing, voice sounding hollow. “i can’t stay bakugou.”

“if you go there’ll be nothing waiting for you.” he shrugs, grabbing your hands when they freeze. “i have toru’s information already. i’ll send him one of the many pictures you’d decided to take on my phone, while you were in my car.” the words taste awful off bakugou’s tongue but he doesn’t stop speaking them.

“why would you?” he can’t bring himself to look at your expression anymore.

“i wouldn’t even need to say anything then, i think that’d be enough.” you make a choked sound and he’s sure there are tears in your eyes. “so you’ll stay here.”

“that’s not fair.” your hands fall limp in his hold and he finally looks at you, the tears stream down your face and bakugou doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore.

“your boyfriend’s in the way of your dream.” he swallows, convincing both you and himself but his sure tone never falters. “you can’t do anything for yourself if you go back to him. you can’t accomplish anything unless you’re here,” you blink away the tears, big eyes staring up at him. “unless you’re with me.”

you take in a shaky breath through trembling lips but nod all the same. you lean forward to rest against bakugou’s hard abdomen, your hands falling from his hold as you move. he has to stop himself from letting out a smug chuckle at the way you instantly come to him for comfort, to think you’d almost slipped through his hands.

“i’m tired of thinking about this.” you hiccup and throw yourself back on the cushions with one arm thrown over your eyes. parts of yourself that bakugou could recognize returning once again, only the way your head rolls to your shoulder and the look in your eyes as you peek up at him is something he’s never seen from you before. “help me?”

what you’d been alluding to is made clear when you reach out a hand for him, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take. he doesn’t even bother to speak any other word before he’s pressing his lips into your own, strong arms maneuvering you on the uncomfortable faux leather so quick it makes a loud noise as your skin rubs against it. he nearly moans at the way your arms wrap around his neck, the way they tangle into and tug at his hair while he slots himself between your legs.

the instant you press your hips up against him, he realizes how wrong he’s been. bakugou does favor you, he favors everything about you. he favors the way you talk shit to him, the way you laugh, the way you roll your eyes, how differently you act in interviews versus in his office, and he favors more than anything how you feel pressed up against him.

he all but tears your shirt off of you, and then your pants, both thrown to a grave somewhere on the rugged floor. his hands are rough as they glide down your body. his pads press in between your collarbones down between your breast, round your ribs, and down to squeeze at your hips.

“hurry up,” you whine, bringing your heel up to push at the waistband of his pants.

“always rushin’ me.” he sucks his teeth, but his voice is soft as he speaks.

he shivers at the sounds you make from his fingers gliding along the seat of your panties, barely damp, likely from your nerves— but bakugou can fix that. kisses are pressed to your neck, something much sweeter than anyone would expect, aside from of course you. you, the sweet little thing who saw past the hard shell everyone else encased him in, though he didn’t do much to prevent it.

his thumb finds its way to your clit, pressing circles on it through the fabric and your head falls back against the cushions, small gasps and whines following his every movement. it’s not until you start to push against him that he finally pulls your underwear to the side.

your sounds easily double in volume when he finally makes contact with your heat directly, a few more wet shapes rubbed into your clit before his fingers trail down to your entrance and you pull him by his hair from your neck, forcing him into a kiss while he presses a single thick digit into you. he rolls his wrist, hoping to stretch you a bit more before adding another, but your desperate hands wind into his shirt and he can’t help but give in.

he adds another and scissors them inside you, prodding to find that spot that had your lips parting, mind and body have given up on being able to kiss him as the pleasure takes over you. you’re dripping down his hand by the time you start babbling nonsense, and it’s all he can do to fuck his fingers into you despite the way you claw at his back, how your legs squeeze around him, and your pussy clamps down on him.

and when his name tumbles out somewhere along your nonsense as you cream down into his palm, for the first time in a long time, bakugou feels warm inside, something beyond the heat between his legs.

he lets you hold him while your breathing settles, even keeps his fingers inside you as you come back down to earth. he wants so bad to fuck you right now, to have you cry his name again and again as you make a mess on his cock this time... but he also wants to never let you move from under him, to keep himself wrapped around you at all times.

“i don’t wanna sleep on the floor anymore,” you whisper, and the blonde wonders how your boyfriend would feel if he knew that forcing you to turn in a resignation would lead to you being putty in his hands.

“come sleep at my place.”

you nod against him and, slowly, he helps to clean and dress you before you let him drag you off the couch.

“you’re always so helpful, baku’.” you rub your eyes as you lean against him, mindlessly following him to the car you’d been mistaken to get months ago.

but bakugou will later reiterate his intention were just truly just to help. just like when it came to officially end your relationship with toru, which would happen tonight after bakugou sends the loser a picture of you fast asleep in the same bed as pro hero dynamight—right where you should be.

[hotpinkstars]

-> sleepy cuddles

synopsis -> wriothesley comes home tired and upset from a bad day at the fortress. so, you just have to indulge in a cuddle session.

warnings -> angsty, sad wrio nooo.. mentions of fighting, baby sigewinne got hurt oh no, more angsty than i thought whoops

w/c -> 659

you were awakened to heavy footsteps entering your home at around 11:00 pm.

usually they’re a lot softer, much less aggressive, thats for sure. you recognized them though- they were your husband, wriothesleys. he seemed pretty upset.

you pick your head up from the pillow, groaning as you slowly got out of bed to see what he was doing. to no surprise, he was in the kitchen, brewing tea. he had his head in his hands, oblivious to your approaching form.

“wrio… whats wrong?” you said in a raspy, groggy tone, and accidentally startled the man, for you were able to catch him jump the slightest bit before bringing one of his hands into yours. “talk to me.”

he just groaned, pulling you flush against his chest, before nearly breaking down into tears. when you felt the first drop of wetness on your bare shoulder, you pulled out of the hug, grabbing his face in gentle hands.

“okay, something is seriously wrong. how bad was today?” you look at him in pity. one thing you’ve learned from being married to this man for two and a half years is that when the great, mighty duke of meropide cries, it’s almost as important as if the city flooded over with primordial seawater. but only that important to you.

he took a shaky breath in, and then looked down. “pretty bad. two inmates decided to pick on sigewinne. her injuries were enough to send her up here for more professional medical treatment. even for me, it was scary, seeing how she felt helpless and couldn’t patch herself up like she normally does.” he exhaled. “they took her vision and taunted me with it. obviously i got it back, but not without a fight.”

you nod, standing next to him as he pours his tea in a mug. he took a sip before offering you some, in which you politely declined.

“how long is sigewinnes absence going to last? if anything, i have some medical experience behind my back. i can stich up a wound at most. if you want my help in the infirmary, then i’d be happy to offer.”

he scratched his temple, seeming to debate on whether or not that would be a good idea.

“we’ll see, i have yet to get detailed information on her stay. once i get more, i’ll let you know if thats needed or not.”

you nod, before taking his hand in yours, leading him into bed. he changed his clothes before joining you.

once you two made it into bed, he snuggled up against you as you rubbed his back to try and ease some of his pains. you could tell the incident involving sigewinne was weighing like a fifty pound weight on his mind, and you wanted to silently remind him that you were always there for him.

this is where you felt the tears spill out, with light gasps to follow. he was never an obnoxious cryer. you just held him tighter, allowing him to cry it out and allow his mind to process things.

you continued to rub his back and shoulders, calming him down. he hugged you even tighter, shoving his face in your chest before finding it okay to shut his eyes. your hands made their way from his back, to his shoulders, to the back of his head, fluffing his soft hair. it smelled very nicely of tea leaves and a sweet and smokey scent. something you could compare to vanilla, but with a, once again, smokier touch to it. he loved when you put your head on top of his, occasionally leaning in to kiss it.

within a matter of ten minutes, he had drifted off. you kept him close, making sure a nightmare doesn’t rouse him from his sleep. the last thing you both wanted was him to be tired in the morning, and adding that to additional stress? oh, the duke certainly was not a morning person.

[everparanoid]

love languages w/ Wriothesley

F! Reader, Fluff, NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠...

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"Love should be warm."

Wriothesley grew up hearing words of affirmation from parents who did not love him or his siblings. Thus, as an adult, he cares little for spoken declarations of love and adoration--though they do stroke his ego. Instead, he savours acts of service, quality time, and physical touch. This is reflected in how he gives and receives love. When Wriothesley falls in love, he falls hard. It is not a love he will declare to the world but rather a subtle love, at least in front of the world. His love is not one of words, though he does say them and will if they happen to be your love language, but his love is wordless. It is a love of the tiny things. The insignificant things. The things that others would dismiss as unimportant things. He will notice how your tone changes when you tell him that you love him; how you bring him his morning tea just the way he likes it or how your gestures soften to his touch. He will be thankful for all the little things you do to express your love that you may not realise he has noticed, but it is that innocence in itself—that pure unfiltered action of love that will make his heart defrost.

Wriothesley is not fussy about gifts. That is not to say that he does not like them, but he does not like owing people. If he were to receive a gift from you, however, he would be thankful. But he would still repay your kindness in other small ways. He will do trivial things to make your life easier even if it is as simple as making sure your Welfare meal is your favourite dish rather than the rubbish everyone else gets; it will be even better than his. It may also be listening to you rant about something that you do not want advice about but just need an ear to hear you and a person to be on your side. He is your shoulder to cry, but he won’t force his presence on you. And he will speak sense into you if you are beating yourself up for something he does not believe you should be beating yourself up for. He does not expect anything in return from you but if you were to bring him his super welfare meal whilst he is sorting through Meropide’s recent pile of paperwork, it is safe to say the paperwork will not be the only thing getting done in his office that afternoon.

Wriothesley is a man with more time on his hands than he likes to let people in on. Mostly because he likes not being disturbed. Nor does he like letting people know that his time is free. After all, it is not. Even if he does not have strict plans for his day, he is still a remarkably busy man. He’ll have something that he is doing even if that something is you. Wriothesley is not co-dependent, but he does love to spend as much time as he can in your presence if he can. Which he can… so why wouldn’t he? That means when he has won a fight in the pankration ring and he is having his injuries tended to by Sigewinne, he will be wrapped around you like a giant sweaty Koala. Which will be a nuisance for all parties involved aside from Wriothesley—he’s in heaven. Another time would be when Clorinde comes to visit he will have you within touching distance whilst he engages in conversation… that is if you agree to be there.

These small acts of service and love of physical touch come into play in your sex life as well. As a self-proclaimed king of foreplay, Wriothesley loves to make sure that you are pleased first. Most of this comes down to the principle that sex is one of the most intimate acts a couple partake in. Expect long sleepless nights under the sheets of your shared bed with him completely pussy-whipped, eating you out until you can't take anymore. He'll grin devilishly as he appears from under the sheets, resting his chin on your chest as he tries to coerce you into giving him one more.

"Come on, my love," he says softly. "One more."

"I thought the last one was the last one," you respond. You take in shallow breaths in hopes of soothing your racing heart. He loves the feeling of your heart racing under your glistening skin.

"I promise this time will be the last," he says, rubbing circles along your inner thighs. He bats his eyes innocently. Though the man staring at you with the eyes of a shark is nothing less than a wolf in sheep's clothing. And you were the idiot who kept falling for his trick. With a kiss to your stomach, he coos your name. "Have I ever broken a promise?"

Even if the only thing that happens that night is you reaching your climax, it would be enough for him. If you were to do the same for him, he would become putty in your hands. It plays into his whole Dom but with a switch undertones vibe that he has going on. It isn’t the words of praise that get him off in the end but more so the idea of you wanting to do this for him that will push him over the edge. Pillow talk is a must; Wriothesley doesn't fall asleep straight after sex surprisingly. He savours these moments after sex to catch up and make it known--even though you were near him most of the day--how much he adores you. He'll try his best to fall asleep after you; to watch your body relax in his arms. But on the nights that he doesn't, he'll hold you close keeping you both warm in the cold underwater fortress.

Loving for Wriothesley is warm. It’s about trust and transparency. It is about being honest even if it makes one of you look weak or less than public pretences expect you to be. It is about meeting each other not exactly halfway but close enough. It’s about the small things that you do for each other that are unnecessary and minor in the grand scheme of things but are filled with love.

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A short one to get back into the flow of things.

Reblogs w/ tags and comments are very much appreciated! If you enjoyed this, feel free to consider dropping a follow as well! <3

KO-FI MASTERLIST

[seungkwanniee]

MY TEACHER !

pairings : nonidol!seokmin x fem!reder

genre : fluff fluff fluff that i'm gonna cry , situationship

warnings : mention of a minor injury , calling the kids 'little creatures'

wc : 1k

synopsis : your (almost) boyfriend!seokmin is a kindergarten teacher

an: i have many ideas writted down but if you want to request, feel free to do so !! Latest post flopped soo hard omg 😭 I really thought it was going to be big and interesting...

〔masterlist〕

you just hop off your car, adjusting the long skirt that falls softly on your legs while a bag sitted comfortably on your shoulder. You look straight, smiling at the sound of the joyfull kids laughing that can be already heard from the outside. Butterflies full your stomach when your thoughts go to Seokmin, your long term situationship. You've met him right here, when you was doing one of your walks meanwhile he was running behind a kid that was... escaping? You just catched the kid in time and, to thank you, he decided to take you to a bar date. You never lost contact since then, around six months ago, and now it was pretty common that you wait for him outside the kindergarten where he works.

You can't say that it was love at frist sigh. At least, for you it was like that. Sure, he was really handsome, but his personality was the thing that made you fall for him. He was joyfull, like a sunshine, his smile was so contagious, his jokes were a little cheesy, but somehow they always made you laugh. Maybe because they were coming from him, and you were so in love of Seokmin. But above all, he was good with kids and you LOVED kids, how you can't fall for a man like this?

For him, it was surely love at frist sight. When you catched the kid for him so effortlessy, he raised his head to look who was the angel who helped him and it was an angel for real. He needed to be quick and think about a way to not lost contact with you, so he just proposed the most stupid thing that was passing in his mind. It worked to, so...

《do want to enter and see the kids?》

you stared at the text maybe for too long. Seokmin knows that you have a soft spot for kids, but he never asked you such a thing. You was so excited but at the same time a little nervous. It was embarassing just entering and passing by all the coworkers in a place where you don't belong to.

《if you don't want to it's okay, i'll be to you asap》

you could already see his pout or upset expressions behind the screen. You took a little too long to answer back, and he was really really sensitive, especially when talking about his little creatures.

《dw, i'll come in five》

you was already outside the school, yes but, come on, you needed some time to find the courage to do it.

after adjusting your straight brown hair looking at your reflection throught the car window, you make your way into the school and fortunately, the way into the garden was more easier than you thought.

A little giggle comes out of your mouth when you spot seokmin sitting on the grass, with little creatures wandering around him. They were sticking things, you were still too far to get what, on his hands while he alternate his bright smile to his cute fake pout. Your heart skip a beat at the vision, seokmin and kids? the most beautiful and cute thing you could ever seen.

His lips still curled into a pout while he says something to the little boy messing with his hand fulled of colorful plasters, and when he finally gets to notice you, his lips changes into a smile.

"i got hurt badly" he stands up from his place, showing you the hand a little to birght now. "oh, really?" you raise your eyebrow playing along his overdrammatic behavior. His nod makes you smile, eyeing the kids looking at you curiosly. After all, you were still a stranger to them.

"say hi to my friend kids" oh, friends really?, nothing stops you from giving him a confused look, but immediatly melting at the sound of the noisy children greeting and waving with their little and puffy hands. "aw~, how cute. Hi~" you wave at them too.

"wait, you have a scratch here too. Let me..." you look below his lips, slightly touching his pale skin, where there was actually nothing. He smiles at your touch, letting you almost touch his lips with your thumb. You grab from the package the remaining plasters, attacking one to his face, "cute" you humble under your breath. When he was right about to say something, kids starts to grab his sleeve, jumping up and down with plasters on their tiny hands, probably wanting to full his face too.

"is she your girlfriend, teacher Seokmin?" he was sitting again on the grass, while the kids where all over his face. The view made your heart flutter: the golden hour was hitting his face so perfectly, while his eyes where shutted and his head leaning back. "can you two kiss?" the kid didn't even let him answer.

"who told you we are togheter?" he smiles at the kid, discreetly laying his eyes to your figure. You looked so perfect in his eyes: the sun kissing your pale skin, your big brown eyes sparkling because of the sun while the slightly wind makes your hair wave togheter with your long skirt, hiding your long legs. He always think about how lucky he was, having such a woman wrappend around his finger, by his side but still too shy and coward to ask her officially. Just by landing his eyes on you, makes him want to love you forever, to the moon and back, giving all of himself. It's so big that there aren't right words to describe it, it was so overwhelming that his chest feels almost heavy. Saying a stupid 'I love you' wasn't describing how his feeling for you are.

"because you look at her how my dad does with my mum!"

[007reid]

u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg 😭 u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!

spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove

essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3

(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)

i am never ever Normal abt this guy 😞 i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa

hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and let’s loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.

pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!

soup. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k

you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.

there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.

it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.

you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.

except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.

"y/n? y/n!"

now, it is very probable that the voice isn’t actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reid’s voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencer’s voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell he’d cast on you (him simply saying two words) he’s managed to melt away your headache, because he didn’t. you still feel like shit.

“y/n?”

you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you could’ve screamed.

you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.

“spencer?” you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencer’s there, looking like heaven’s finest angel, smiling at you like he’s smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like they’re the love of his life. you sort of hate it.

“hi y/n,” he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. “i—“

“what are you doing here?” you’re too impatient to wait, still in shock.

now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, you’re not eager cleaning up the consequences. it’s an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually it’s a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? it’s ridiculous.

your defense is completely solid, you’d say. your number one defense is you can’t help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone who’s soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.

spencer doesn’t like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, you’re proud to be spencer’s little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and what’s a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.

it’s not something you’re proud of, however. you know it’s a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an ‘it is what it is.’ spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesn’t have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencer’s trouble, definitely trouble, but it’s hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when he’s rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.

spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. “you didn’t come into work and you didn’t answer your phone,” he explains. “emily told me to go check on you.”

you nod. he’s here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. “i’ll head in the office now,” you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. “sorry—“

“no you’re not,” spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the action—has spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?—but knowing that doesn’t help the heat that spread up your cheeks that’s definitely not from the sickness. “you’re burning up,” he says. “i’ll get you some water. you should clean up,” he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

you take advantage of the time that spencer’s not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except he’s by your desk, hands on a book.

typical.

he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child who’s been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit it’s a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.

“you like toni morrison?”

“i love toni morrison,” spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. “especially her masterwork, beloved,” he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"

“you bought me soup?” you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.

“it's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, it’s the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...i’ll be right back…” and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencer’s always right but mostly because your legs feel like they’re going to give out.

spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.

spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.

yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.

"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."

you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.

spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.

to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.

the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.

"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.

"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.

"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"

spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.

“i can’t miss anymore days spencer, and i won’t,” you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like it’s your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. “i’m not too sick, either, it’ll be useless for me to stay home—“

spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.

“you’re burning up,” he announces. “means your sick. you’re not coming in today, y/n.”

“says who?” you say defensively, feeling a bit like you’re loosing.

“says me,” spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. “who’s a doctor.”

you scoff. “so now you’re an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?”

“i have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,” spencer quips and you didn’t even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?

“whatever,” you grumble, sounding a lot like someone who’s just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a “thanks” under your breath.

spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. you’re talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."

“fine,” you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. “little cold, actually.”

“it's the chills from your fever,” spencer informs you. “i…” he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. “do you need anything else?”

“no spence,” you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. “you’ve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.”

spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure she’s ok. leave. he’s done the past two steps. it’s time he completes his mission.

but…

“are you sure?” he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.

you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.

whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."

"you do that."

"remember to drink water."

"i will."

"do you need me to bring you more?"

"i'm okay."

"okay."

"okay."

the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.

you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.

"are you sure?"

i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."

"you have medicine right?"

you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.

"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."

"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."

"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."

"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.

he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.

maybe another day.

a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short 😓😓but i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5k!!! Ok ok, hear me out on this request because I think it might make a good little fic. I can’t decide between Hesh or Price for this one but I got a general idea: stoned Hesh or Price. You know those videos of husbands waking up from surgery and not recognizing their wife right away but knowing they’re the most beautiful person in the world (something like this: https://youtu.be/kV8KyeApBJY). Well maybe it’s something like he got hurt from a mission (hurt enough to require drugs/anesthesia for the plot) but is recovering back at base and imagine their wife is their medic and she’s trying to update his team on how he’s recovering and you just got a stoned Hesh or Price completely hopped up on drugs following his injury, just fawning over her and he just goes bananas when she “reveals” they’re married. The team got a kick out of it

—Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

You walked around the room, tidying up what you could if only for the simple fact that it could distract you from the unconscious body in the bed. Realistically as a medic, you knew he would be fine—he was in the best hands possible—but Hesh had a track record for being unpredictable. 

He’d gotten into some trouble out in No Man’s Land again. Broken arm and ribs; a bullet through his thigh. He was so pumped full of medication and anesthetics from surgery that you doubted that he would be waking up soon.

But then again, Hesh was always surprising you. It was one of the reasons you’d married him, after all. Never a dull day.

Elias’s voice calls from the doorway. 

“You’re going to fall over at this rate,” you blink quickly, turning with an extra blanket in hand to spread around your husband’s comatose state. 

Your father-in-law has his arms crossed, and Logan slinks his way through the doorway with an arm looping your shoulders, a head pushed into your scalp silently. You sigh deeply, tension that you hadn’t realized was on your face lessening.

“Only if he keeps me from seeing those greens of his.” 

Logan huffs a laugh, squeezing you as his father grunts—the stern man’s eyes softening in a way they only would for you and his boys.

“He’d be more worried about you than himself if you did. Put my mind at ease, okay?” Your eyes roll but you nod with a small smile. You don’t argue with his point in the slightest. 

So, that was how you ended up here, in a seat by Hesh’s hospital bed—your hand in his and your head nodding back and forth with fatigue. Elias and Logan are casually playing a game of chess from across the room when David’s eyes flutter; his mouth releasing a low groan.

Your lids snap back, spine straightening, but before you can get a word out, your husband is pulling his hand from yours. His green eyes are loopy, pupils blown wide. 

He mutters something under his breath, lips grimacing and face pulling in at the sight of you. 

“Hesh?” The two men stand as you check his vitals, heart hammering until there’s nothing out of the ordinary and you can sit back down with a sigh and a relieved smile. “Take it easy, alright? You got out of surgery a little while ago—everyone’s here for you—”

“W…Where’s my wife?” His words slur, jaw loose as he rotates it; the unbroken arm with an IV chord stuck in it raises as jerky digits rub at his eyes. You’re left at a loss, blinking slowly in confusion before sharing looks with your in-laws. “No offense, Miss, you’re pretty and all, but…shit, why’s everything spinning?”

A hand covers your mouth, heated embarrassment lighting inside of your veins. 

“Hesh, Sweetheart,” your arm reaches to the brunette, trying to grab his wrist that he weakly moves away. 

“Stay away from me,” he grunts, head limply lulling on its pillow. “Thought I told you to keep it to yourself. My Wife’ll rip,” Hesh’s voice fizzles, a loud yawn peeling his bandaged face back, “you to pieces.” A pause. You hear Logan trying to hide his loud laughter behind his lips. “Did…the doctor send you?”

Your body turns to Elias, face beaming and expression exasperated. 

“Now that he’s awake will you get the other three? It’ll be easier to give the news to all of you at once.”

“Already commed ‘em,” the man states, watching his eldest with a raised brow and a slow smirk. “Least we know he’s a loose cannon on anesthesia.” 

Merrick, Keegan, and Ajax all file in, and as you continue to watch over a loopy Hesh, his small noises and babbling continue even when you give the breakdown of the patient sheet. You stand just shy of brushing the bed’s lower frame. You won’t lie and say it isn’t hilarious.

“He needs to keep out of the field for at least two and a half months, boys, and I’m not joking about that, alright?”

Your husband’s slow voice slashes through your speech, and the rest of the Ghosts snicker, sharing knowing looks as Hesh tries to lift the hand currently wrapped to his chest to keep it still. “You’re a real beautiful lady, Doll, y’know that? I’m sorry you like me so much, but I love my wife, you hear? Please don’t be angry with me.”

“Hesh, Darling,” you walk closer and bend down carefully. He blinked owlishly at you, finger coming up to poke at your cheek. Your hand grabs his as you hear Ajax make a quick remark to Keegan about the man being ‘totally whipped even when he’s high.’ 

“David, hey,” your voice prompts him to smile, perhaps now only realizing the familiarity of it. “I’m going to tell you something, hm?”

“Okay,” he watches, petting your neck with his thumb. 

“I am your wife.” The man’s eyes widen comedically as everyone shares a long laugh with one another. 

“No way,” Hesh breathes after a moment, awe-stricken. “Really?”

“Really.” There’s a moment of silence, and then the heart monitor begins to pick up its pace to a fast pound. Your face goes hot with love, and you bend your head forward in a long and honest laugh into his shoulder. 

Green eyes shift to the men, and Hesh beams, cheeks red and heart racing as he slurs out, “This is my wife?!”

It was safe to say they were never going to let him forget about this.