#I end up taking these long breaks in between playing

[bblairxe]

— ୨ৎ lawyer ! abby x reader . mdni

abby’s been typing at her laptop for hours, literal hours. every once in a while you’d ask her how much longer or if she’s done. but she’ll still give you that same response: “5 more minutes.”

    you were fed up at this point. storming over to her desk and planting your hands in front of her. she looks up at you with a confused expression, but her eyes soften when she realizes why you’re here.

    an abundance of complaints were about to leave your lips until your eyes started focusing on something else. you noticed how her face framing pieces sit perfectly on her glasses, her muscles being shown off through her white button up, and the way she leans back, man spreading in her chair. 

    it’s dizzying, intoxicating even. it makes your annoyance falter for a slight second until you remember her white lies. you clear your throat, preparing for a tone to set her straight, but it comes out more pathetic than demanding. 

    “abs, can you take a break? i miss you, need you, please?” 

    she lets out a long sigh. she would give the world just to be with you right now but her mind won’t stop drilling her about a case. 

    “i know baby, come here.” her arms open wide, inviting you into her lap. they wrap around your waist like instinct, holding and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

    a few moments pass, the two of you so engulfed in each other that abby forgets she even needed to work. her hand smooths over your back, planting kisses on your cheek. she wants this moment to last, and it does, until a message from her client pops up on her laptop screen.

    “shit, i-i gotta do this love, i’m sorry.” 

    her words make you groan, you didn’t want this moment to end so soon. of course you were thankful for these few minutes of peace but you wanted more. 

    you lean further into her, nuzzling your head into her shoulder. you stay like that for a while, happy with the warmth of her arms around you, but the longer she types, the more impatient you get. on top of that, your back starts to hurt from the curled up position. 

    she notices almost immediately, stopping her work to make sure you’re alright, “what’s up? you keep moving.” she whispers in a soft tone, her voice laced with concern.

    you shuffle again, trying to find a comfortable angle but nothing works, “back hurts.”

    her lips form into a pout at your troubles, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “i’m sorry baby, i’ll be done soon.” her attention focuses back onto the bright screen in front of her, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist. 

    you mentally roll your eyes at her words she was ‘almost done’ two hours ago. your eyes flicker to the floor then turning your head to see the gap between the desk and her legs. it’s just enough space for you to slip down, so you do — scooting off her lap and settling between her legs. 

    abby hums in acknowledgment, barely glancing away from her screen. her fingers don’t stop typing, but her free hand drops down to your cheek, cradling your face in her hand. 

    your pupils dilate, mind going blank at the feeling. it’s not until now you realize you’re at her feet, craving for attention and the need to please her intensifies.

    you start slow, not wanting to distract her from her work that’s ‘oh so important.’ your head rests on her thigh while your hand runs up and down her inner. it’s close to her core but never exactly there. 

    your gaze flickers back to her face, checking to see if she’s noticed but nothing’s changed. her expression remains focused, jaw tight, glasses sitting at the bridge of her nose. you didn’t notice but her white buttoned up is slightly unbuttoned and her sleeves are rolled up just to her elbows, showing off her veiny forearms. 

    the sight makes your thighs press together, searching for relief. you need her, but you continue playing slow, needing her to feel the same amount of desperation you feel now. your hand moves further up, just to her belt buckle, and that’s when she notices. 

    abby tenses, her fingers pausing on the keys. “what are you doing?” her tone is steady but her voice is filled with hesitation. 

    “helping you relax,” you murmur, holding eye contact as your hand tugs at her waistband.

    “baby, i—“

    “just keep working abs.” 

    her eyes dart between you and her screen, but the look you give her makes her fingers fumble against the keys. you nudge her legs further apart, palms pressing against the inside of her thighs. you relish in how pliant she becomes, letting you play with her however you want. 

    your hands move up to her belt buckle, undoing it and letting her pants pool at her feet. her body sinks into chair, her bottom half completely in your face. “impatient are we?” you tease, smoothing your thumb along her clothed slit. 

    a low groan escapes her throat, her eyes rolling in the process. “love, as much as you— i want this, i have to work. it’s very important and i need to work,” her words became nothing but background noise to you. you’ve grown tired of waiting for her to finish, and you were determined to get what you want. 

    your tongue presses against her clit, lingering for a moment before teasing with soft, deliberate kitten licks. her words falter, cutting off as her fingers tighten around the armrests, grasping for stability. she knows she should stop, should focus, but her body betrays her—every flick of your tongue erases any train of thought. hell, if it feels this good with her boxers still on, she can only imagine how it’ll feel without them.

    you let up and you could melt from the view. her glasses all foggy and her lips are full and pouty. “see what i mean? let me help you relieve all of this stress.”

    she huffs through her nose, clearly upset that you proved her wrong. a big part of wants to be stubborn and insists on working but she knows she won’t be able to resist you for long. “fine, but only one round.” 

    “that’s all i need, sweetheart.”

🏷️ : @ellieslosttwofingers @polarhues @pornoangelz @sapphichounded @macabremilieu

[devixncy]

Could you do a Thanos fic with a sweetheart reader. Just her being kind and talkative to everyone, and him supporting her: but also acting as a bodyguard and keeping anyone from taking advantage of her kindness. 

a/n: loooved this request, kinda hate how this turned out tho but i was writing this off of nyquil and whatever braincells i have left

✧ pairing: thanos/choi su-bong x sweetheart!reader

✧ content: fem reader implied, probably (def) ooc thanos, brief mention of drugs/alcohol/sex, mention of the games but deviates from the story line, basically post squid game au, swearing, tiny bit of violence, i think that's it??

✧ word count: 2.0k

All your life, you had been a bundle of joy. Your kindness radiated off of you wherever you went. There was nothing that made you happier than helping those in need, saying hello to people passing on the street, or picking flowers for strangers. You had been a victim of bullying as a young kid, and from there on out you vowed to never treat anyone else the way you were treated. Thus, you earned the nickname ‘sunshine’.

That’s why many were confused as to how you ended up with Thanos. Your bubbly personality and his arrogant, stubborn, cocky personality clashed like fire and water. That was how the two of you worked, though. You were his sun, and him your moon. You kept him sane on his worst days, the reason that he was on the road to giving up his habits of drinking and taking pills. It wasn’t easy, and it had been a long journey. His rapping career had taken a nosedive, losing most of his money to crypto scams and stupid decisions. Before he met you his life had revolved around meaningless sex and drugs, partying every weekend until his brain turned to mush and he couldn’t feel anything. 

During the games, though, you had captured his attention like no one else ever had. He had been mildly confused at first. 

“Hey, Señorita. Why don’t you come and join my team, yeah? I, Thanos the great, will keep you safe.” He and his partner, player 124, snickered. His cockiness didn’t bother you, though. You beamed, eyes lighting up as you were thrilled somebody wanted you to join them.

“Really? Yeah, for sure!” Your reply was genuine, throwing Thanos off. Most girls played hard to get, adding an element of thrill for him. He loved the chase, and for the first time there apparently was no chase. He and Nam-gyu exchanged confused glances, with the latter looking disappointed.

“Yeah, never mind. We can find somebody el-” Thanos was quick to shut Nam-gyu up, a grin adoring his face. He threw his arm around your shoulder, giving you a squeeze. 

“Why would we need anyone else when we have this beautiful flower right here?” Thanos replied as he looked at you with his pupils blown wide. Instead of being scared away, you felt sympathy tug at your heart. You could tell that the purple haired man was struggling, fighting demons that only he knew about. With that, you decided to stick with him. And it stayed that way through the rest of the games. He tried many advances, and was only met with sincerity. His constant unnecessary flirting was met with smiles and laughter from you, so carefree that it genuinely confused him even in his incredibly high state.

He continued to watch you during the games and within the dormitory, noticing as your small acts of kindness didn’t just apply to him. He saw you give some of your food to Jun-hee, insisting that she eat more. When tension arose between players, you were there trying to break it up and most of the time, it worked. You tried to be there for Min-su when you could tell he was scared. After so long, Thanos began to grow a soft spot for you, though he would never show it.

Once the games had disbanded as the vote to leave finally won, he spent many days with you lingering in the back of his mind.  He returned to his old habits, knowing it wasn’t like him to let his thoughts be consumed by a woman. His fascination with you really just stemmed from how you managed to be a beacon of light even in the darkest of times, and how even if you were feeling low it would be impossible for anyone to tell. Everyone else's needs came before your own. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and decided to seek you out. 

Now, while his life was still anything but quiet, he had you. While he had a funny way of showing his appreciation most of the time (he still held that same arrogant personality that you had come to know during the games), deep down he was grateful to have someone like you in his life. He knew the kind of person you were, and he couldn’t believe you stuck by someone like him. You two were walking in the street and a fan came up to him? You would quietly step back, a smile on your lips as you watched them interact. He had a show? You were there front and center every single time, being his biggest supporter. He slipped up and took a pill? You didn’t look at him differently or hold any ill will towards him. You’d stay by his side, making sure he was okay and fussing over him until he came down. That never came without a stern lecture though, of course.

What he absolutely hated, however, was when people took advantage of your kindness. There were bad people out there, but you tried to see through it, always trying to find the good in everyone. He considered you a doormat at times; you let people walk all over you just because you had such a good heart.

The two of you were walking down the street late at night. He had his hood up and sunglasses on, trying to mask his identity even though it was dark out. A cigarette was held loosely between his fingers, lazily taking a puff every now and then. You walked by his side, your fingers intertwined with his free ones. He always had to be touching you in some way whether it was holding your hand, his arm around your shoulder, or sliding his finger into the belt loop of your jeans. The man did not care about PDA, he just wanted to show you off and let everyone know you were his any chance he got. 

He was stressed, wanting nothing more than to get back to your shared apartment. He couldn’t wait to unwind and get into bed with you, imagining as you put on one of his shirts that was far too big for your frame. While he was lost in thought, he noticed that your hand had slipped out of his. Turning around, he inwardly groaned as he noticed that you had stopped by a man on the ground. He stopped, watching the interaction warily. While he knew that you were too sweet for your own good, he supported it, just always keeping a watchful eye on the situation. 

You approached the man, frowning as you felt the chill in the air. No one should have to live like this, you thought. It completely saddened you. 

“Hello sir,” you spoke softly as you began to pull money out of your purse. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to be able to get some food and hopefully some water. You could smell the alcohol wafting off of him, making your nose scrunch but that didn’t deter you. “Here. I hope this helps.” You held out the money towards him. He eyed you suspiciously, snatching it out of your outstretched hand. Before you could pull your hand away, he grabbed your wrist. Your smile faltered slightly. 

“You think this is enough, bitch?” He sneered, clearly very intoxicated. His grip on your wrist tightened and you winced, trying to pull it away. “I know you have more in there. Let’s see what else you got, huh?” He went to reach for the straps of your purse with his other hand. 

“Hey, motherfucker! I’ll fucking kill you for that!” 

Thanos shouted from behind you, wasting no time in storming up and swiftly kicking the man. The impact was enough to cause him to let go of your wrist and you stumbled back, eyes wide in shock. Thanos delivered a punch, and then another one, and you couldn’t bear to watch anymore. You knew he actually would kill the guy.

“Su-bong!” You yelled out, grabbing his arm and pulling him away with all of your strength. His nostrils flared, seething as he snatched the money right back out of the man’s hand. Instantly, you shook your head, pulling the cash out of your boyfriend’s hand. “Don’t kick him while he’s down.” You said quietly as you placed the money back down by the man, not concerned as he was too busy trying to catch his breath after having the wind knocked out of him. Thanos rolled his eyes so hard they could’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. He quickly pulled you away, gripping your upper arm. 

“This is why I hate the way that you are sometimes, sunshine,” He hissed, and his words stung only for a moment as you knew he didn’t really mean it. “What if I wasn’t with you, huh? Then what?” 

“I’m completely capable of taking care of myself, Su-bong.” You murmured, shaking your arm out of his grasp. You rubbed your wrist with your free hand, already being able to see the redness forming under the street lights. He grumbled, cursing as he grabbed your hand. 

“Let me see.” He inspected your wrist, anger bubbling to the surface again. He whipped around and glared at the guy on the ground, causing you to grab his shoulder and force him to keep walking. You knew his temper was like a ticking time bomb, especially when it came to anyone messing with you or even so much as looking at you the wrong way. 

“It’s okay, my love. I’m fine, we’re fine. My wrist is okay. Relax.” Your reassuring voice spoke quietly as he looked down at you, that painfully optimistic smile plastered on your face. He stopped walking and grabbed your face, smashing his lips onto yours. You reciprocated, kissing him back with a softness that rivaled his neediness. 

“You drive me absolutely crazy, you know that señorita?” He whispered, peppering kisses on your jawline and down your neck as you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I have to keep you on your toes somehow.” You joked as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you off of the ground momentarily as he squeezed you. 

“You sure do, sweetheart. I just want you to be careful, you know? You're too…nice, for your own good. Can’t have anyone taking advantage of my beautiful flower.” He growled, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder like it was nothing. Your giggling fit continued at his dramatics, although you didn’t protest. He didn’t show his protective side often so when he did you secretly loved it. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Su-bong. You don’t have to worry,” And god, he hoped you were right. You had become his lifeline, the very thing keeping him on this Earth. His past meant nothing when he had a future with you in it. “As long as I have Thanos the great as my bodyguard, I don't have to worry.” He rolled his eyes at that comment, his free hand coming up and smacking you on the ass. He heard you gasp and could almost feel the wind up as you did it back, making him chuckle. 

“Alright now, my sunshine. Let’s get you back to the safety of my bed.” He hadn’t put you down but you didn’t mind even if you were getting slightly lightheaded. You whispered an ‘I love you’, so quiet he almost didn’t catch it. He did, though, and his breath hitched. You knew he wasn’t good at showing his emotions, so whenever you did tell him you loved him you took no offense when he didn’t directly say it back. Most times, he deflected and would just answer with something along the lines of ‘yeah, you too’. He was far from the sappy type, the polar opposite of you. This time, however, you heard him loud and clear when he whispered it back. A jolt of shock ran through your body, not expecting this to be the moment he finally said what you’d been waiting to hear. 

“Wow, you must’ve really been worried about me, huh?” You couldn’t help but ruin the moment.

“Aye, don’t push it now. Next time I’ll stand by and let him rob you.”

[emilys-bangs]

of broken bones and hearts | e.p

Tags: established relationship, mom!emily, broken bones :(, mild hurt/comfort, a dash of angst, healthy helping of guilt ridden momily because of course she would be, use of petnames, no use of yn

Summary: Eloise breaks a bone. Emily freaks out, you exercise damage control, and the both of you pamper her with affection.

Word count: 2.7k

Work is slow. Slower than usual. No cases, no consults, nothing except brain numbing paperwork. Usually Emily doesn’t mind it—it means being home for dinner, helping settle Eloise into bed and unwinding with you on the couch. But today it grates on her.

She’s staring down at a half filled report for last week’s case, tapping her pen on the dotted lines with an idle restlessness. Her sugar-brimmed coffee is down to dregs. The fluorescent lights make her feel caged.

Her phone vibrates with a call; Emily is answering before the first ring dies out. She automatically knows it’s you—or she hopes it is.

“Hi, babe.” She thumbs the skin between her brows, waits for the sweet relief of your voice to come through.

“Hi. Okay, listen. I’m gonna tell you something, but don’t freak out.” 

Emily stiffens. Her spine goes ramrod straight; immediately, her thoughts flit to Eloise. 

“Is it Eloise?”

“She’s fine.” You insist. “We’re at the hospital. She broke her arm at play time, we just got done with the x-ray and we’re waiting for the doctor.” You say it all in one breath, a long string of words that makes Emily’s mouth go dry. “She wants to talk to you.”

Emily is still blinking at her computer when movement rustles in her ear—the phone being pressed to Eloise’s cheek. A belated tremble rocks her hands.

“Mommy.” Eloise whines quietly. The sound grips Emily’s chest in a vice. She’s still stuck in five seconds ago, before images of her daughter in a cast flooded her mind. She roughly shakes her head, as if she can force them out.

“El, hi.” Her voice is rusty. Emily clears her throat, digs her knuckles into her eye. Stars burst along her vision. “I heard you’re at the hospital. How do you feel, my love?” 

“My hand hurts,” Eloise sniffles. She sounds like a kicked puppy.

Emily’s fingers flex into a sweaty fist. “I know it does, honey. The doctor’s gonna make it all better now, okay? You just…you just have to stay really still for them so they can put a cast on. And then you’ll get to choose a color for it!” She forces fake cheer into her voice. “I bet they have a ton of colors.”

There’s a stretch of silence on the other end. Emily’s thumb forces its way between her teeth.

“Pink?” Her daughter mumbles eventually.

“Pink sounds perfect. Just remember to stay really still while they’re putting it on, okay?”

“Mmn.” 

The dulled tone of her voice makes Emily’s heart clench. Eloise is almost always cheerfully rambling about one thing or the other, her inner monologue spilled out for you and Emily to hear, taking up more space than she does. Hearing her reduced to weak, monosyllabic responses twists at Emily’s gut. She blows out a stuttering breath.

“I love you, Eloise. I’ll see you real soon.”

“’Kay.”

Emily is already standing by the time your voice comes through again. 

“Why did you just call?” She questions, only paying half a mind to the way she bites out the words.

“Because I knew you’d do this and I didn’t want to freak you out—well, more than necessary,” your voice lowers, “—before knowing she’s okay. And she is. She’s in a bit of pain but they gave her Ibuprofen a few minutes ago, it should kick in any minute.”

“A broken bone isn’t fine,” Emily mutters, flipping her report closed and grabbing her purse. She doesn’t meet Reid or Morgan’s gazes as she steps past their desks to Hotch’s office. “I’m on my way.”

“We’re almost done here.” You say. For the first time, she hears the threads of exhaustion in your voice. Emily’s frown deepens.

“I’ll meet you at home, then.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

You resign to it. So does Hotch. Emily tries to ignore the tremble in her hands as she gets in the elevator and presses P.

___

She gets home before you do. When you walk in with a McDonald’s bag in your hand it’s clear why. A pharmacy bag dangles from your wrist, dangerously close to slipping over the heel of your hand as you shut the front door. Eloise is in your arms, slumped and limp; her purple cast hangs listlessly off your shoulder.

Emily distantly clocks the deep violet but doesn’t linger on it, hurrying instead to lighten your load, taking the food and the meds before easing Eloise’s school bag from your grip. You murmur a quiet thanks. Her lips find your cheek, a wordless response, and then she’s stepping behind your shoulder to glance at your daughter.

“She’s pretty out of it,” you whisper. 

You’re not wrong. Eloise’s eyes are closed, lashes threaded together and resting on her cheeks. Mouth pressed into your shoulder, she breathes evenly, not stirring at her mother’s light touch when she reaches over to sweep the mussed bangs over her brows. 

“Poor thing.” Emily sighs quietly. “Let’s get her to bed.” She murmurs. You nod, though the sun still streams in through the windows and paints the house gold. 

It takes more effort than it usually does to settle your daughter into bed. You take careful steps all the way to her room and Emily drowns Eloise’s bed with more pillows than usual; when you finally set her down in it, you gently elevate her arm the way the doctor showed you to. Throughout it all Eloise only stirs when you move the cast. Her whine is muffled, fingers twitching where they peek out from under the plaster. Emily bites down on her thumb to stop herself from grabbing your hand away.

“How did it happen?” She asks when you’re in the kitchen, putting the happy meal in the oven. 

Your brows tick upward. “She was trying to do a cartwheel.”

“Jesus.” Emily groans into her hands. Guilt curdles in her stomach again, making her shudder with nausea. 

She was the one who suggested gymnastics lessons in the first place. Ballet and soccer failed to catch Eloise’s attention; she was too listless in her tutu and too disgruntled at being jostled around in her soccer jersey. Gymnastics seemed like a perfect fit. It’s only been a few months but she’s obsessed with it, constantly twisting and bending on the mat you’d gotten her, all but abandoning her toys in favor of rolling around in the living room. You and Emily had warned her time and time again about practicing without either of your supervision, but the girl is four years old and half Emily.

“It’s my fault,” Emily mutters. She digs her palms deeper into her eyes, sparks flashing in the dark. “God, what was I thinking? She’s fucking four years old—”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” You say, gripping Emily’s wrists and pulling none too gently. The look in your eyes is hardened with determination—a common sight that usually pulls her from the edge whenever she spirals about anything regarding your daughter. “You said it yourself, Em, she’s four. Accidents like this are bound to happen, whether she’s doing gymnastics or not.”

“She wouldn’t have tried to launch herself into the air otherwise,” Emily mutters, unsurprised to feel a dampness on her lashes.

“Wouldn’t she?” You tilt your head. Eloise is nothing short of adventurous, and both you and Emily know that. You squeeze a soft pattern on her wrists, fingers digging lightly into her skin before letting go and doing it again.

“No.” Her mouth pinches as she drops her forehead on your shoulder. “Maybe we should stop sending her to those lessons. They’re making her reckless.”

“They’re making her fearless. That’s not a bad thing, Emily.” Your fingers release her wrists and travel to the base of her neck, finding knots of tension. You start working them. “She’s not scared to try, and she shouldn’t be, just as long as we’re with her. But the point still stands—this could’ve happened for any other reason.”

Emily doesn’t say anything. She resignedly grabs on to your waist and inhales, filling her lungs with your familiar scent—shampoo, perfume, fabric softener. Something else sneaks in, too, spoiling the usual comfort of your fragrance. Emily recognizes it; faint traces of antiseptic. Her stomach turns.

“I know it’s hard for you to believe,” you murmur, now tracing her jaw, nudging her chin up to get her eyes to meet yours, “but not everything’s your fault. Things just happen sometimes.”

Emily responds with a sound deep in her throat, her brows arching wryly.

Your eyes narrow. “Okay,” you announce. “As your spouse, I demand you stop feeling guilty. Since I do know best and all.”

A smile tickles the corners of Emily’s lips. “Well, if my spouse insists,” she drawls, though her stomach is still unsettled from it all. A few years ago she’d have gaped in disbelief at this version of herself, but by now she’s well used to it—though she still doesn’t like it. Emily is perfectly composed, unshakable. Always. Except when it comes to you and Eloise. That has become a hard fact, as sure as the day is long. She’s entirely helpless to stop it.

“I do,” you murmur, pulling her in for a kiss. 

Emily belatedly realizes it’s the first time she’s kissed you since the morning. Her shoulders loosen from the press of your lips, soft against hers, the way you thread your fingers through her hair. Warmth builds in her chest; she wraps an arm around your back to keep you close, humming into your mouth. The world quiets for a moment, her frazzled nerves smothered into something more tame under your touch. Your nails gently scrape against her scalp and her spine warms, muscles unlocking as she lets go of your lower lip and nuzzles her nose into yours.

“Sorry I snapped at you,” she whispers.

“It wasn’t really a snap. More of a nibble,” you shrug, like you’re rolling it off your shoulders.

“Still.” Emily insists.

“It’s okay,” you give her a quick peck before escaping the cage of her arms, “I know how it feels. She’s my kid too, you know.” You make your way to the counter, peering into the grocery bag she’d left there before you came. “You went to the store?”

Emily nods as you pull out two sheets of stickers. “Got her ice cream,” she says, “and those. So she can decorate the cast.”

“Smart.” You hum. “She was pretty torn up about it not being pink.”

“What kind of hospital doesn’t have a pink fucking cast?” Emily scorns.

“A bad one,” you agree mildly. As your eyes scan the—very pink—sticker sheets, a smile starts to curve your lips. “But,” you wave them in the air, “at least you had the foresight.”

“At least.” Emily says dryly.

Silver linings and all that.

___

Emily’s leaning over dinner on the stove when a small voice catches her attention.

“Mommy,” Eloise mumbles, half squished into your shoulder. 

Emily turns to face the both of you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she sees the cast again. It starts just under Eloise’s right elbow and continues until her little knuckles, leaving only her fingers exposed under the purple. The toddler’s head is cushioned on your shoulder, her eyes drowsy with sleep but fighting to stay open. You’d hoped she’d sleep through the night, but barely two hours after you put her in bed she called out through her ajar bedroom door.

Emily steps away from the stove and into the reach of Eloise’s stretched arm, obliging her daughter and gingerly taking her from you. She’s unsurprised at this show of affection; Eloise—like herself—often demands it, more so when she’s sick or hurt. It’s one thing she’s infinitely glad her daughter inherited from her, even if right now it comes with more work. You help adjust her casted arm across her chest.

“Hi, Eloise.” Emily whispers, a muscle somewhere deep under her skin unlocking at the familiar weight in her arms. She brushes a kiss on her daughter’s sleep-warm cheek. “How’s my brave girl doing? Is your arm still hurting?”

Eloise shakes her head, her brows dipping into a frown identical to yours. “S’okay now,” she says. That doesn’t stop her lips from curving into a pout, her frown growing deeper by the second.

Emily presses her thumb to the wrinkled skin between her brows. “What is it, my love?”

Eloise burrows into Emily’s neck, her free hand curling around the collar of her sweatshirt. She huffs out a warm sigh, deeply grieved. “They didn’t have pink,” she mumbles.

You chew on your lip, clearly attempting to keep the smile at bay. Emily pulls a face at you as she absently smooths between Eloise’s shoulder blades.

“That’s awfully rude of them.” She says softly. Her lips find the warm skin of Eloise’s forehead; Emily presses a kiss there. “What if we put some pink stickers on it? Would that make it better?”

The sound Eloise makes isn’t entirely too pleased, but Emily carefully carries her over to where the stickers are anyway. She grabs a sheet and holds it up, thumbing at the plastic covering. “I got these for you. What do you think, would they look pretty on your cast?”

Eloise frowns at them, unconvinced. She reaches out to touch a sticker, her finger hovering between a slice of strawberry topped cake and a pink ice-cream cone.

“Those are pretty,” you nudge gently, sifting your fingers through Eloise’s bedhead and tucking some of the hair away from her face. “Do you wanna try putting them on?”

Her lips purse into a contemplating pout. Eloise shakes her head, turning to bury her face back into Emily’s neck again. Her frown is practically etched onto Emily’s skin; she can feel it, as sure as she feels the wild hair tickling the underside of her jaw. While this is a lesser pain than hearing her daughter’s distressed voice through the phone, it still throbs dully. Biting back a sigh, she sets the stickers down.

You step in again.

“Are you still hungry, El?”

Suddenly the weight of Eloise’s head lids off of Emily’s shoulder. “Did we get McDonald’s?” She asks, more energy in her voice than Emily’s heard all day. It’s a familiar burst of sunshine, the warmth of it sinking instantly into her skin. She closes her eyes and absently kisses the side of Eloise’s head, thanking all her lucky stars for you.

“We did, honey. Do you want to eat that now?”

Eloise’s frantic nodding makes both you and Emily smile. She comes out of her hiding spot, sufficiently appeased with the shift in conversation. As you heat up the meal, Emily grabs the toy inside and hands it to her daughter. 

“I’m gonna set you down now, honey.” She says. Eloise doesn’t pay her any mind, too preoccupied with the toy in her hand to care. Emily sets her down on the counter and hides a wince at the pull in her shoulder as she grabs the golden, sugar infested cup of apple juice in the greasy bag. You chat to Eloise as the food heats up, pulling her attention away from Emily diluting the juice.

“Can we also watch Star Wars?” She mumbles, fiddling with the toy one-handed. 

No TV while eating is a strict rule of yours. But under the weight of Eloise’s pleading eyes and her vibrant cast, it bends. A soft sigh answers, and Emily stifles a smile as you nod and murmur your assent.

That’s how you end up eating dinner on the couch, two pasta bowls and a happy meal on your respective laps, an army of stuffed animals joining you amongst the cushions to watch Lego Star Wars. Sergio serves as a willing armrest for Eloise’s cast, and that night the whole family wedges into your bed, carefully nestled between you and Emily.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights@professorsapphic

[mechncheese]

your designs are so peak! dyou think youd be willing to share some of your process for how you develop the looks you make?

Sure thing ! I'll take you on a journey into my mind's eye

Long text post ahead in case anyone's interested in my designing process

I start off with references-- lots of references. I pull inspiration from more than one iteration for a character ! For Brainstorm specifically I took the most inspiration from IDW Brainstorm with aspects from G1 like his darker/greener color.

Red Alert's darker color palette is also based on the TFA design with heavy IDW influence. First Aid's little doctor's coat was inspired by the Bayverse Crosshair's coat. Ratchet's design is based on his Prime, G1, IDW, and Cyberverse iterations but I took the most inspiration from his Prime design (I think Prime Ratchet is also my favorite Ratchet so I might be biased)

Before I begin designing anything, I map out the character's silhouette, it gives me a feel for the shapes I want and how they'd stand out in a lineup. Here's Wheeljack for an example.

Then I start the first draft/sketch. I just draw on top of the silhouette and adjust as I go, I'm mostly going based on what feels right to me.

Since a lot of the bots I was working with had White and Red color palettes I had to use different accent colors to break it up and I wanted to emphasize their shape language. I try to keep things from blurring together too much. I also used various off-white colors (it's very subtle) and different shades of red.

I also pull inspiration from figurines/model kits from gundams specifically-- honestly I do this mostly for the legs, I struggle a lot with making the legs look right so I look at Gundam legs for references on knee articulations and the ankles.

a lot of it is trial and error and it usually takes me more than one attempt before finalizing a design. Let me show you the monster that is my first Brainstorm attempt.

Good fucking god I have no idea what the hell I was thinking, literally the first thing I said to myself as I was finishing this was "Oh my god he is UGLY, I cannot keep him like that" he was not working out so I went back to the drawing board and worked small.

Here was my second draft of Brainstorm, I was thinking about his personality as I was working on him which I think helped a lot. Chaotically natured, I incorporated a lot of sharp shapes and I darkened his color palette to a sea green to let the red and yellow/orange accents stand out. It also emphasizes his more sinister personality while the broad yellow-accented shoulders paired with the extra red accents kind of give him this "show-off" and "full of himself" vibe.

My previous mistake was that the blue was far too bright and the orange and red were just clashing too much. Also his wings being flat against his back just did not fit him. I think I was too afraid to break to mold with Brainstorm-- Like there was this line between "This is not Brainstorm enough" or "This is too far from being Brainstorm" and then I remembered his very wise words

Then I just started to get adventurous and experimental and bam, we have Science AU Brainstorm. The major takeaway from this is don't be afraid to get wild with your designs.

In contrast, Since Prowl and Brainstorm will be seen around each other a lot, I kept Prowl's design less flashy and his palette limited, pulling heavily from IDW Prowl. It also fits his personality, he's much more serious and orderly. So when they're seen in the same drawing, there's this nice design compliment between Brainstorm and Prowl.

Another oopsies I did was initial First Aid attempt where I made his accent color orange for some reason. It looked really bad and I ended up changing it to blue which worked a lot better.

But yeah ! That's my general design process ! Play around, have fun and don't be afraid to get experimental and try some new things for designs !

[stevie-petey]

hi hi i was just wondering you could maybee do a blurb between s3-4 of bug, robin, and steve having a sleepover or smth?? i just miss this trio and their dynamic so bad and i love how u write all of them as best friends.. platonic soulmates stobin is so serious to me and having bug be a part of that is so special

anon i giggled reading this request because its just so cutie <333

enjoy !

"can you pass me the popcorn?"

you hand the bowl over to robin, eyes never leaving the tv screen before you. grease is playing and you take sandy very seriously. "here you go."

"thanks, pretty girl."

you hum at robins praise, resting your head on her shoulder, warm and content. steves dad always insists on having the house run warm and the thick heat always drapes over you softly during especially late nights.

"why do you always call y/n 'pretty girl'?"

robin nearly chokes on her popcorn with how fast you turn to look at steve. "excuse me?"

"i-"

"oh, harrington." robin cackles. "need a shovel to finish burying that dead body of yours?"

"i-i mean youre gorgeous, y/n." he sits up on the couch, eyes wide and panicked. "like, the most beautiful woman ive ever seen and-"

"and yet robin calling me a pretty girl is bizarre enough to warrant questioning?" you cross your arms, movie long forgotten.

steve blanches. "no! thats-thats not how i meant it-"

"i call you pretty girl because you are a pretty girl, y/n." robin twirls your hair with her fingers, leaning in so close to you that her breath fans your skin. she kisses your cheek, loud and dramatic, and you giggle. "see? such a pretty girl, despite what steve may say."

"youre in my house, buckley."

"and yet im also in y/n's heart."

you squish your face against robins, pulling her into your side and reveling in her soft curves and lemon-y scent. "you live in my heart, robin."

steve lunges towards the two of you, a scowl on his face. "alright, break it up."

robin puckers her lips and blows air at him in retaliation and you weakly try to bat him off of you, though really your body molds to his hands and youre water underneath his touch. steve easily throws you over his shoulder and stands, causing you to screech in terror, as he laughs at you.

"any more snippy remarks?" he runs around the room, your head knocking against his hips as your feet kick at his head.

you pound at his skin, desperate to wring yourself out of his grasp yet cautious of the hardwood floor beneath you. "put me down!"

"not until your heart lets me in!"

"that doesnt even make any sense!"

"too bad!"

robin gets up from the couch and wraps a blanket around her shoulders. she ties the ends across her neck, draping the rest behind her in a pathetic attempt to create a cape. she holds her hands up at steve, puffing her chest out. "drop the girl!"

you shriek in terror. "do not drop me, harrington, or so help me god-"

"relax maam. im a hero. ive got this." robin swishes her cape and blocks steves path. he stares at her, bored, but even he cant hide his laughter at her awful costume.

"you know that i can carry you both, right?"

"what-"

and suddenly robins body gets thrown over his shoulder just as easily as yours had been, and the two of you scream and kick and laugh until your lungs ache.

steves laughter joins yours.

grease will have to be finished in the morning.

-

﹂blurb masterlist

﹂if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[jungwnies]

sfw alphabet | yang jungwon (en-)

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for yang jungwon

୨ৎ : word count : 1321

୨ৎ : requested by : @miyoung07

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ buy me a ko-fi ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

he’s subtly affectionate, always finding small ways to show he cares.

acts of service and thoughtful gestures over grand romantic displays.

would sneak in little moments of affection, like adjusting your jacket or handing you your favorite drink without you asking.

private with his affection, definitely prefers moments just between the two of you rather than public displays.

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

friendship starts with light teasing.

he’d playfully mock you, but only because he finds you fun to be around.

always the first to check up on you but in a casual, “hey, i saw this and thought of you” way.

late-night conversations about anything and everything

growing closer over time is def clear in this situation.

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

enjoys cuddling but won’t admit it at first.

prefers back hugs or resting his head on your shoulder when he's tired.

the type to absentmindedly play with your fingers or hair while cuddling.

loves it when you lean into him because it makes him feel trusted and needed.

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

would love the idea of settling down one day, but only when the time feels right.

surprisingly good at organizing but not the best cook (he’d try, though).

loves a clean space and might nag you playfully if you’re messy.

wants a home that feels warm, safe, and full of love.

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

jungwon would struggle with breaking up, as he deeply values his relationships.

he would be honest and direct but gentle, ensuring you know it’s not because of a lack of love.

the type to say, “i’ll always care about you,” and mean it.

would check in on you from time to time, even if it’s from a distance.

f ⤖ fiance (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

believes in commitment but doesn’t rush it, he wants to be sure.

would take marriage seriously and want to build a strong foundation first.

once he decides, he’s 100% all in, treating you like his forever from that moment.

probably the type to propose in a meaningful, intimate setting rather than a grand spectacle.

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

emotionally, he’s incredibly understanding and patient.

physically, he’s careful…soft touches, reassuring pats, gentle forehead nudges.

would rather talk things through than argue, always striving for peace.

h ⤖ hugs (does he likes hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

loves giving and receiving hugs, especially when he’s tired.

hugs you often, they're usually quick side hugs as a greeting, long embraces when he needs comfort.

his hugs feel warm, safe, and reassuring, like he’s shielding you from the world.

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

doesn’t say it super early but once he does, he means it wholeheartedly.

might show it more through actions first.

bringing you things, remembering little details, always showing up.

when he finally says it, it’s soft, sincere, and makes your heart skip a beat.

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

gets quietly jealous but won’t act out, he just watches from a distance.

might become extra affectionate or subtly competitive if he feels threatened.

the type to say, “do you really think they’re funnier than me?” in a teasing but slightly serious way.

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

soft, slow, meaningful, never rushed.

loves kissing your forehead or temple as a silent way of saying, “i’m here.”

likes being kissed on the jaw or near his ear, it flusters him a little.

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

surprisingly great with kids! he’s patient, playful, and naturally good at keeping them entertained.

would be the fun uncle type, always making kids laugh with silly antics.

would want kids of his own one day but only when he’s fully ready.

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

not a morning person but wakes up quickly when needed.

would groggily mumble “good morning” before pulling you back into bed for five more minutes.

loves slow mornings, drinking coffee, listening to music, just enjoying your presence.

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

nights are for deep talks, late-night walks, or watching random videos together.

gets a little more affectionate when sleepy.

resting his head on your lap, holding your hand absentmindedly.

would rather spend nights in than go out, preferring cozy, quiet moments.

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

takes his time opening up, he needs to trust you first.

won’t dump everything on you at once but slowly reveals his thoughts over time.

once he’s comfortable, he’s an open book, telling you his fears, dreams, and everything in between.

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

incredibly patient, rarely gets angry.

if he does get mad, he goes quiet rather than lashing out.

takes a deep breath and thinks before reacting.

he’d rather resolve things peacefully.

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

remembers the little things; your favorite snack, the way you like your coffee, the song that makes you cry.

might surprise you with how much he remembers even when you think he’s not paying attention.

probably brings up random things you mentioned in passing months ago.

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

probably a simple, quiet moment.

like walking together on a cool evening, sharing headphones, feeling at peace.

cherishes the little things more than big, extravagant moments.

s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

quietly protective, always looking out for you even when you don’t notice.

would rather subtly guide you away from danger than make a big scene.

if you’re upset, he’d protect your feelings, offering soft reassurances and a steady presence.

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

puts effort into everything; dates, anniversaries, even random tuesdays.

loves thoughtful gifts and surprises, always aiming to make you smile.

might not always be extravagant, but every little thing he does has meaning behind it.

u ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

overworks himself and sometimes forgets to take breaks.

can be stubborn about asking for help.

might bottle up his feelings instead of immediately sharing them.

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

takes care of his appearance but isn’t overly obsessed with it.

likes looking good but doesn’t need constant reassurance.

might fix his hair in a reflection but wouldn’t stress too much about it.

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

would feel like something is missing without you.

jungwon would feel like like his world is a little quieter, a little less warm.

wouldn’t be overly dependent, but you’re an irreplaceable part of his life.

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

loves making inside jokes, you should expect a lot of teasing and playful banter.

probably has a secret playlist of songs that remind him of you.

likes holding onto little keepsakes, movie tickets, handwritten notes, anything sentimental.

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

dislikes dishonesty and insincerity, he values genuine connections.

hates unnecessary drama or conflict.

not a fan of super loud, overwhelming environments all the time.

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

moves a little in his sleep but isn’t a crazy sleeper.

sometimes falls asleep mid-conversation if he’s really tired.

loves sleeping with a blanket, even in the summer.

2021-2024 © jungwnies on tumblr | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[peachhcs]

requesting some will samy angst where maybe one of them picks a fight on the phone or on face time while they’re doing long distance and then by the end of the call they realize that they were only doing that because they missed the other?

UGH yes in the end they'd be so 🥺 when they realize they really just miss one another. angst to fluff my fav

au masterlist

"you barely texted me all day," samy immediately said when she finally answered her boyfriend's call at almost 10pm.

"i'm sorry..things were crazy today. i got caught up," will mumbled but for some reason his apology wasn't sitting right in samy's head.

"you could've at least told me you were gonna be busy," she continued with the semi-angry tone. the blonde frowned to himself, struggling to make up for hardly answering her all day.

"i should've. 'm sorry," will really did have a long day. there was media every hour that they weren't practicing and press people wanted to kow..he hardly had time to even sit down and think before someone new came in wanting and interview and/or photos for their blogs.

it was the worser side of the job the blonde didn't really enjoy. he was there to play hockey, not sit in front of ten different cameras answering nonstop questions that were way too personal for his liking.

"what's even been up with you lately? you've felt so..i dunno..distant.." samy wasn't afraid to call it what it was anymore. after things escalated between them last summer, she knew better than to let things slide.

however, will did not take it that way, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i get you're busy, i am too, but it feels like i've barely heard from you all week. we hardly text. we hardly talk," samy's voice faded like she hesitated saying the last part.

the hockey player's expression hardened even though she couldn't see it, "oh so now you're trying to accuse me of something?"

"no, i was never accusing you of something," the younger hughes immediately shot back.

"then what are you trying to say?"

"what are you trying to say? is there something i should be accusing you of?" now both of their tones turned sour. after a long four months of will proving to samy that he deserved her full trust, she put it all into him. she trusted him completely, but right now it wasn't really feeling that way.

"what the fuck? no? what the fuck would i even be doing that would put me in that position?" now will was just mad because it mostly hurt him how fast samy was to assume that he would turn around and hurt her like that again.

"i don't know, you tell me, will. you're the one that hasn't even been answering my texts," the girl shot back again.

"so you're just gonna assume that i did something then? not that i could just be super busy and i've had a really long day talking to a million different people with a camera in my face and i just couldn't have the time to text you?"

a deafening silence fell between them. will heard a sigh escape samy's lips and he quickly realized how harsh what he just said sounded. the guilt of being rude quickly washed over the hockey player. he knew samy's trust really could break at any moment with him and none of what he just said helped any of that.

"okay, sorry. i..i don't know why i said that. you're right. you're busy," when samy spoke again her voice was small and wavering like she was going to cry.

will instantly felt bad, "wait, fuck, no, no. i'm sorry. i shouldn't have snapped like that. i shouldn't have..i'm sorry."

god, he was so stupid sometimes.

"i'm sorry. i have been busy, but i should have texted you and told you. i'm sorry i didn't. it's just been a crazy long day and i haven't like had a second to breathe with every reporter wanted to shove a camera and mic in my face. i think i answered like a hundred questions about myself and personal life today," will admitted in a softer tone when samy didn't respond right away.

"i didn't mean to snap either. i'm sorry. i guess we both had long days. i just..i really like talking to you and i got worried when i barely heard from you all day," samy nervously thumbed her little braid.

"i really like talking to you too. talking to you is the highlight of my day and i do always look forward to it. i didn't mean to worry you. i'm sorry again. if it's any consolation, i did talk about you quite a lot though," when he heard the girl giggle, he knew it was okay again.

"really?"

"god, they love asking about you, but i love talking about you so it works out. it was just little things about our relationship. i bragged about you when i could," will could picture samy blushing hearing him say that and he was right. her cheeks were bright red.

"i'm flattered. sounds intense," she hummed.

"it was, but luckily we're done with it for now. i promise that i will try to text you more and especially let you know when i'll be more busy. god, i really miss you," the hockey player admitted. there were so many days he wished samy was a half an hour drive away still so he could just lay in her arms when his day was hard.

today especially he missed her like crazy. it was probably why he seemed to talk about her in almost every interview even when he wasn't asked first because she was the only thing on his mind.

"i really miss you, too. feels like it's been forever since i saw you," the brunette sighed.

"i know. i have no idea when i'm free again," probably not until summer will guessed and that was still so long from now.

"yeah, me neither." samy and hannah were going abroad for spring break—a trip they'd been planning since literally last year after hannah saying she really wanted to go to italy, so samy didn't know when the next time she could fly to the west coast would be.

"maybe i can escape to italty with you and hannah," will joked a little.

"you should. the almafi coast is calling our name."

one day will would get there with samy and maybe even then they'd be more than just boyfriend and girlfriend. something more like husband and wife sounded right.

"i love you. i miss you. i'm sorry again," will finally said with a small smile.

"i love you a lot. i'm glad we talked. it was real good hearing from you," samy smiled too.

"i promise i'll text. if i don't just like spam me or something," the girl giggled at his words.

"i love, love, love you," they exchanged their goofy, loving goodbye and the little fight they had was far from their minds.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Good lord what is the young Joel and Marcus wip 😏

ANON come here and let me kiss you on the forehead!! This one is special to me 😍

First of all... young!Joel Miller x young!MarcusMoreno is not a pairing that comes completely out of nowhere. As a matter of fact, they're lurking in my masterlist, tucked into a story, but I don't want to spoiler it for other people who may not have read some of the fics I wrote last year.

However, if you know - you know. 😏

Let's get into it:

This is probably one of the heftiest WIPs that I haven't posted anything from yet, as the doc clocks in at about 5K so far - and it's actually going to be a series! I'd say a tentative 9 to 10 (not super long, hopefully LOL) chapters at this point. And I'm actually going to try to have most of this written, or at the very least have half of it done before I post the first chapter, just to make things a little more manageable for myself.

We meet Joel and Marcus in Austin, TX when they're about 20 and 21 years old, and the series will span a period of approximately twenty five years actually, so I'm very excited about that! They meet in a bar - that Joel isn't supposed to be at, because he's not of legal drinking age - when they're trying to break up a fight among their friends, which results into the two of them getting kicked out.

Joel has been working long, long days in construction for a few years in order to support himself and Tommy, as their parents died when Joel was 16/17 years old. One of the reasons why he rolled into that line of work - besides the money - is because the childhood house that they still live in needs so much work done, and the only way he could think about being able to afford that somehow is by learning how to do all the work himself because he'd never be able to afford a contractor.

His life couldn't be any more different than Marcus', who is busy with college and who tries to hide a part of his life for most people - namely that his father is the leader of the Heroics and his mother is a Heroics trainer. There is the expectation that he's going to follow in their footsteps, but his powers haven't shown up yet, so he's trying to focus on blazing his own path.

They end up becoming friends, and music plays an important role in that; the series takes place in the (early/mid) nineties, so get ready for a good amount of grunge / rock / etc. There are a lot of twists and turns in their story (apparantly Little Beast was only the beginning of a whole lot of angst/drama pouring into my fics), so I don't want to reveal too much it, but let's just say that it's a tough ass road and things don't go the way they've planned.

But! I do have enough written so far that I can show you a little snippet of a very rough outline from chapter 2:

Joel and Marcus listening to grunge music and smoking so much pot at Joel's place. Careful first kisses. Giggling about it as they’re so stoned and kind of nervous. (They only smoke pot when Tommy isn’t around/going to be home that night, also to help manage Joels aches as he tends to be sore after a long day at the construction site - that's half of the reason why Marcus brings over weed). They’re both too high to do anything that requires much coordination but Marcus starts grinding against Joel’s dick and they eventually get eachother off that way, clothes still on, sitting on the couch. There are more kisses while they're both still panting, now with a giggle in between breaths every now and then, and the weed just makes them lose track of time - and it's not all that long before Joel finds himself grinding his hips up against Marcus again. "Fuck. Fuck, I…." He can't find the words, especially not when Marcus rocks back against him, just a little slower on his refractory period. "I want…. Fuck. 'm too high. I can't…" Marcus hushing him with another kiss and Joel moans, grabbing Marcus' hips and shifting on the couch, until Marcus is on his back and Joel on top of him. Nudging his hips into Marcus until they line up, still fully dressed, and the little “oh my god” once he gets it right. "Take it, take it, take it," Marcus panting under him, holding onto Joel's broad shoulders, which makes Joel moan against him, and when Marcus' hands grab Joel's ass, something just clicks inside of Joel's brain. And despite that everything is still slow and soft, he just goes feral because he wants it - wants Marcus - so goddamn bad "Wish I was inside you," against Marcus' ear, and Marcus cries out at that, imagining it, and because it feels so good that Joel is fucking his cock against him. "I wish I…" And not all of it is coherent, it's a string of words that fall from his lips, but he kind of talks Marcus through it, what he wants to do to him, and Marcus just loses his shit because holy fuck, Joel's voice is so deep when he's been smoking like this, and nobody has ever talked to him like this while getting off, and he loves it.

Thanks again for asking, Anon!! I honestly can't wait to write more on them and to eventually share these boys with all of you.

Want to know more about fics in my WIP folder? Check out the original post!

pssst, this is me looking innocent and tagging y'all for no reason whatsoever except for that you might be interested to see this WIP that's in the making 😇😘 thank you all so much for the support you gave to GP! @oliveksmoked @ohforficsake @wannab-urs @baronessvonglitter @angiewatson

@iknowisoundcrazyreads @gruaig-rua @thebeldroramscal @milla-frenchy @reallyrallyauthor

@jessthebaker @littleredpandanaps @bitchesuntitled @avastrasposts @almostempty

@almostfoxglove @rebel-held @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@din-cognito @penvisions @alltheglitterandtheroar

[ambiguous-avery]

Read for Me

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 3408

Summary: Researching with Sam was always a treat. Unlike most hunters who did it simply as a means to an end, Sam always seemed to genuinely enjoy having a nose in the books. He was a kindred spirit in that way. Maybe that’s what made you fall for him. Turns out, he’s felt the same way about you. Who said researching couldn’t be fun?

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, no use of Y/N, she/her pronouns, femme nicknames (baby, pretty girl), reader is AFAB, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (remember to be safe, friends), spanking, PWP (Plot? What plot?), no beta we die like men

A/N: I may be a Dean girlie through and through, but I’d have to be absolutely blind to not appreciate how damn good Sam looks. I’m a sucker for guys with longer hair. I’ve never written for Sam, and I don’t feel like I have as solid of a grasp on his character. But hey, we all gotta start somewhere yeah? I am apparently incapable of writing a short smut piece. Also in my head, Sam is a kinky fucker, and no I will not hear otherwise.

It had been far too long since you sat in the library of the bunker, nose-deep into a lore book. The last several months had seen you taking hunts all across the west coast with little to no reprieve in between jobs. Such was the life, though. There was always something else to hunt. Always someone else to save. Always some threat that needed to be put down. It was a hectic way to live, but you couldn’t deny that it was fulfilling. You helped people. And that would always make it worth it.

But that only made the quiet moments that much more precious. 

The Winchester’s bunker was hardly home, but any hunter worth their salt would be hard pressed to find a library of this caliber. You may have been a decent hunter in the field, but texts and manuscripts were where you really shone. Sam and Dean had answered your call for help on hunts before, and you had done the same on occasion. There had always been a hint of something between you and Sam from the beginning, but neither of you acted on it. The life of a hunter wasn’t one that afforded either of you the luxury of getting attached to any one person. So the two of you simply existed in the orbit of the other, occasionally passing close but never touching. Never breaking that physical barrier. 

But the both of you could appreciate being around the other without the need to directly interact. Which is why you were sat across the table from Sam in the bunker library, each of you engrossed in your own book. You peeked over the top of the pages, sneaking a glimpse of him in his zone. He had no right looking as handsome as he was. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The way his lips moved silently as he read. It was all too captivating. You quickly averted your eyes back to your own book, cheeks flushing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the bunker's heating system. 

A creak of the chair across from you broke through your focus, and you looked up to see Sam closing his book. His hazel eyes met yours, and there was a flicker of something unnamable that passed between you. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to the bookshelves, running his fingers over the spines of the ancient tomes as he searched for a specific volume. You watched him move with a quiet grace, admiring the way his muscles shifted beneath his flannel shirt. Sam finally pulled out a thick, leather-bound book and made his way back to the table, sitting across from you again. You went back to focusing on your book.

Sam glanced up from the tome in front of him, catching a peek of you engrossed in the text. A soft smile played on his lips as he let himself admire from afar. No one read like you did. The way your eyebrows rose and fell when you read something new. There was always a glint in your eye when you stumbled upon a particularly interesting passage, and Sam couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through his chest. When you turned the page and chewed on your lip, Sam made the executive decision that he was done with the unspoken connection.

He cleared his throat, his breath briefly catching when you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” he asked slowly, steeling his nerves. You set your book down, your heart racing at the vulnerability in Sam’s gaze. His question lingered in the air, heavy with unvoiced feelings that danced between you.

“Of course,” you nodded, urging him to continue. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his expression before he took a deep breath.

“I… I know that we’ve kept each other at arm’s length. For good reason,” he started, his eyes never leaving yours. “But every time we’re in the same room, it’s like there’s something unspoken between us. Am I reading that right, or am I completely off?”

You took a steadying breath, tension crackling between the two of you. You simultaneously wanted to thank whatever god might have been watching over you and punch them for encouraging Sam to drag the truth out into the open. You had been content letting whatever there was between you and Sam just sit in the dark, never touching on what it could be. But here it was. Brought into the light at last, waiting to be explored. You swallowed.

“You’re not completely off,” you admitted softly, feeling a rush of both fear and exhilaration at finally acknowledging the undercurrent of something more than had been threatening to pull you under. “There’s always been something, hasn’t there?”

Sam let out a long, slow exhale, relief evident in his eyes as he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice just barely above a whisper as if the moment would shatter to pieces if he spoke too loud. “I’ve tried to ignore it. Thought it would just fizzle out over time. But it didn’t. And it’s not just me, is it?” he continued, standing from his seat and moving around the table to your side. He reached out tentatively, his fingers grazing yours on the table. “I don’t want to ignore it anymore,” Sam confessed. You intertwined your fingers with his, a rush of raw desire and emotion breaking free from behind the dam you had built up.

“I don’t want to ignore it either.” You looked up at him.

Sam dipped down and pressed his lips against yours in a long-overdue kiss. It was soft and gentle, a tender exploration of something that was simultaneously both familiar and foreign. But as you both grew bolder, the kiss deepened with a fervor that threatened to overtake you all at once. Sam’s free hand came up to cup your cheek, and his tongue swiped at your lower lip. You responded eagerly, parting your lips as his tongue slid against yours. The library melted around you, only leaving the sensation of Sam’s warm touch and the taste of desire on your lips.

When you broke apart, both of you were breathless and flushed with a newfound desire that coursed through your veins. Sam rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all he found instead was a mirrored reflection of the same yearning that burned within him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for longer than I care to admit,” he confessed. You smiled softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his face.

“Me too,” you replied, abandoning the book in your hand entirely and twisting in your chair to face him better. You pressed another soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t suppose there’s anything else you’ve wanted to do for a long while, hm?”

The playfulness in Sam’s eyes winked out and was replaced by a smoldering intensity that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that hadn’t been there before. His hand left yours and instead, he tangled his fingers through your hair, carding them through the strands. 

“There might have been one or two other things...” he mumbled against your lips. He straightened up, pulling you out of your chair with him. “Up on the table.”

“Wait, here?” You spoke in a hushed tone, even though you knew that you were the only two in the bunker. Dean had left who knew how long ago, grumbling something about the ‘nerd convention’ being in town. You hadn’t caught the full extent of the conversation, mainly because Sam and his brother could converse with glances alone, and you had given up trying to figure it out forever ago.

“Yeah, here,” Sam confirmed, his voice low and husky with desire. The thrill of it all coursed through you, charging the atmosphere between you further. You didn’t hesitate as he helped you up onto the sturdy wooden table, unceremoniously pushing books and papers aside to make room for you.

Sam stepped between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your waist as his lips found yours once more. It was fervent and needy and full of the promise of more. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath his shirt. His lips seared yours, branding you with the heat of his passion and desire. Your lips parted with a quiet moan as his lips trailed down your jawline, leaving a hot trail of kisses along your neck. Your head fell back in a silent invitation, willing to give him access to every inch of your skin. He took it, backing off just long enough to yank your shirt up and unclasping your bra with practiced ease. Although, he couldn’t even be bothered to fully remove anything, just shoving your shirt and bra out of the way as he sucked and nipped at a spot just beneath your collarbone. 

And his hands – God his hands. One kept a hold on your shirt and bra, keeping them out of his way as he teased a nipple between his teeth. The other ran up your back, grabbed a handful of the hair just above the nape of your neck, and pulled, still bracing his arm against you to serve as counterpressure. You arched into his touch, your hips pressing against him in a silent pleas for more of his attention. His hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of you as though he was making up for lost time and memorizing your shape with his fingers alone. Each kiss was slow and deliberate as he took you apart piece by piece. His fingers trailed their way down your sides, grazing your hips and sending a shiver through you. When he finally moved to trail kisses back to your lips, you met him halfway, pulling him closer until you felt the length of him press against your center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathed against his ear, voice breathless with need. Sam paused, lifting his head so he could meet your gaze.

“I want you too,” he echoed back to you. “But I don’t know that I want to make it that easy for you.” Your breath hitched at his words, heart pounding in your chest as need swept through you, pooling at your core. The thought that Sam could very well leave you like this, wanting and waiting and so fucking turned on was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling. The playful smirk that crept onto his face told you everything you needed to know; he wouldn’t leave you like this, but he was certainly going to drag it out.

He tugged at the button of your jeans, and there was no elegance in the way he helped you shimmy out of them and your panties. The surface of the library table was cool against your skin, and just when you thought that Sam couldn’t possibly be any sexier than he already way, he sank to his knees. Watching a man as physically imposing as him drop to his knees before you was a sight that needed to be imprinted on the back of your eyelids so you could see it again and again and again. His hands were steady on your hips as he tugged you to the edge of the table, his eyes only leaving yours when he pressed a kiss to your knee. The heat of his breath ghosted across your skin as he kissed and licked his way up the inside of one thigh. Then, avoiding the spot where you wanted him most, he sucked a bruise on your other thigh, trailing kisses back down until he was at your other knee. You reached down, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and urging him on.

“Beg when you’ve had enough,” was your only warning before his mouth was on you, tongue stroking along your folds and fingers digging into your thighs to hold you at his mercy. You whimpered and whined and moaned. Every gasp and sigh and plea only fueled him more, and when he sank two fingers into your wet heat, your back arched and you cried out his name. You bucked against him, desperate for more – desperate for him. You felt him smile against you, before he swirled his tongue around your clit and twisted his fingers in you to curl them up towards your belly. You clawed at him, torn between pulling him closer for more of that delicious friction or pushing him away to escape the overwhelming sensations. 

“Sam,” you groaned, legs tensing on either side of his shoulders.

“Hmm?” he hummed against you, the vibrations adding to the tension that coiled inside you.

“Please.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled because you were pretty sure that the only words in your vocabulary were ‘Sam’ and ‘please’ anymore. He took pity on you and sucked your clit between his lips, laving it with attention while he pulsed his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you. 

“That’s it, come for me, pretty girl.” You shattered beneath his touch, your orgasm crashing over you. Your legs shook, and the hand you have placed behind you to brace yourself just about buckled as Sam continued his assault, drawing out your climax and setting every nerve alight.

Sam didn’t relent. You whimpered and patted his head with urgency as things moved into ‘too much.’ He soothed you with his tongue, his movements becoming gentler as you came down from your high. He stood, his lips meeting yours in a hurried kiss, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You moaned into him, and he ground his hips against you, his cock hard and demanding.

“Sam, please,” you begged. “Please fuck me already.”

“Don’t worry. I’m far from done with you, pretty girl.” 

He urged you forward, coaxing you off the table and onto unsteady legs. Mercifully, he helped steady you before prompting you to turn around. He pressed a hand between your shoulder blades and gently nudged you forward until your front was pressed flat against the table. There was the vague clinking sound of his belt and zipper before Sam was crowding you. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of relief. He kept his hand on your back and steadied your hip with the other as he pressed forward, filling you with the entire length of him. 

“Fuck…” you breathed, arms braced on the table in front of you and arching into him. His thrusts were slow and measured at first, giving you time to adjust. Then, he sank fully into you, leaning over you to grab for one of the books that had been scattered across the table. He was so goddamn tall that he reached over you effortlessly.

“I’m gonna make you work for it, pretty girl,” he said, the tone in his voice unlike anything you had heard from Sam before. You barely had a moment to try and figure out what he meant by those words as he cracked open a book and propping it up in front of you. “Read for me, baby. Out loud. Any time you make a mistake, I’m gonna punish you for it.”

You might have laughed if the moment were different. Reading was as easy as breathing for you, and if he thought that this was a challenge, then he didn’t know you as well as you thought. You took a deep breath and read over the first line on the page. And then he moved, and all the wind was knocked out of your sails. On the initial thrust, you managed to keep your composure, but somewhere between three and four, you stumbled over the Latin name for some creature you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. His hand met your ass, and you yelped, jolting forward. The hard edge of the table dug into your hips, a stark reminder that Sam had you entirely at his mercy. Trapped between the solid form of him and the cool surface of the library table. And you realized that the Sam behind you was an entirely different side of him you had never experienced before.

Sam chuckled – fucking chuckled – as he soothed his hand over the placed where he had just spanked you.

“Keep going, pretty girl,” he said, amusement in his voice. You could hear him smiling as he spoke. If you didn’t enjoy this, he might have sounded cruel. Thank god you were into this as much as he was. You took another deep breath, doing your best to ignore the stinging. “Don’t worry, we can go slow.” And he kept to his word. The languid way he moved his hips gave off the impression that he could do this for hours if he had the time. You continued reading, faltering again when his hand slid from your ass to your clit. He made a ‘tsk’ing sound before spanking you again, striking the same spot he had before. You squealed under him, excitement coursing through your veins, and he picked up his pace, every thrust making it just a little harder to get through the next sentence.

Your words stumbled and faltered as his movements grew more urgent. Sure enough, when your voice caught on the phrase ‘Ad libitum’ because of course it would on a phrase like that, his hand connected with your skin again. You gasped, pushing yourself up onto your toes in an attempt to meet his thrusts. The pleasure and pain mingled together in a heady mix that would no doubt fry your circuits if you lingered for too long. You whimpered as the cycle continued. You read as best as you could, but your mistakes grew closer and closer as Sam’s thrusts grew harder and faster. It was like being on a tightrope between desire and frustration helpless under his dominance. But you couldn’t think of anywhere else you would rather be. Occasionally, his hand would leave your clit to spank your ass again, both a punishment and incentive to do better next time. Every smack echoed loudly in the room, adding another layer to the symphony of sounds.

He slid out of you, just long enough to hoist you up and sit you back on the edge of the table, the book completely forgotten as he sank back into you. Sam’s breathing became more labored, his movements more urgent as he drove into you deeper and harder. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, realizing that he had been so desperate to have you that he hadn’t wasted extra time stripping.  Your name tumbled from his lips in a low growl, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, meeting his thrust for thrust, desperately needing to feel him closer. Your orgasm was building again, and when his lips found their way to your neck, he bit and sucked a love bruise there. You came shuddering around his cock, and your name left his lips once more in a hoarse cry as he buried himself deep inside you, finding his own release moments after.

The library was quiet again, filled only with the sounds of yours and Sam’s ragged breaths. As you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breaths mingled in the stillness, and you could feel the connection between you settle into something more comfortable. More steadfast. Like the roots of an old tree. He leaned in to kiss you savoring the moment with a gentle intensity before slipping out of you. 

“You are something else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. And just like that, the Sam you had come to cherish reemerged – the sweet and caring gentle giant. His hand cupped your cheek tenderly, and he kissed you once more, a soft and chaste touch that spoke volumes. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he suggested with a warm smile. “I think we’ve spent enough time among the books for now.” And his words were a gentle breeze, guiding you back to reality. The life of a hunter might have been unpredictable and fraught with danger, but, really, it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle together.

---

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[irissfoot]

arthur morgan x fem reader

him drawing you nude… fluffy and smutty please

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Soft Lines

╰┈➤ After a few weeks away from each other, Arthur takes his beloved wife to the saloon for a night of drawing and soft love making. ♥

Word count: 890

Warnings: unprotected p in v, kissing, nudity (obvi lol), author has zero sexual experience, not proofread

A/N: This is my first ever fic ive written so please be kind lol, also sorry for the delay ive been rlly busy and everytime I sat down to write it i got scared lol.

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Soft giggles met the gentle crackle of the fire, the warm glow casting a soft shadow over her curves as she posed on the rich red chaise couch.

Dutch had sent him and Lenny on yet another wild goose chase, a habit growing annoyingly common. Because of these pointless missions, he hadn't had time to catch up with the love of his life. To correct this, Arthur took her out to dinner at the saloon in Saint Denis - promptly followed by booking a room for the night. 

And that's how you ended up laying on your side on the couch, as bare as the day you were born. You were reluctant at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Laying naked as your husband who looks like he was sculpted by the gods, sitting there, drawing you. But with a few kisses and a promise that it wouldn't take too long, you obliged. 

“Are you almost done? I feel silly”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you look gorgeous.” He mumbled as he continued scribbling away, a small smile crept its way onto your face.

“Do you really mean that?” you already knew what his answer would be, but you were growing tired and figured teasing him would help aid that.

He looked up, surprised almost. As if he didn’t say it enough. “Well ‘course I do!” Suddenly an idea popped into your head as he put his head back down.

“Well then show me.” You got up and started walking across the room towards him. Hips intentionally popping out, accentuating your curves.

A smirk made its way onto Arthur's face as he put his pencil and journal down, reaching out to grab onto your soft waist. Pulling you down to have your ass sit flush against his lap. Smiling at you gently as you play with the tuft of hair at his neck, looking lovely into his eyes.

“Don't know what I did to deserve you.” He continued staring into your eyes for a moment, muttering a faint beautiful before leaning in to kiss you. Soft and gentle, those are the words you’d use to describe how Arthur treats you. Holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world to him. 

The kiss became more passionate and deep, kissing down your neck before standing up with you in his arms. Walking back towards the couch, delicately laying you down. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as you start to unbutton his black blouse - his favourite but only because you always tell him how handsome he looks in it. 

His hands start to move from your hips and up towards your soft breasts. Massaging them tenderly, making you let out a small sound of protest before breaking from the kiss.

“Arthur, take your clothes off.” Your tone was kind but he knew better than to test you. 

“Yes ma’am.” He sat back on his feet, pulling his arm out of his suspenders as you untuck his shirt pulling it down his shoulders. 

Caressing his shoulders and buff chest as he unbuckles his belt, “God I love you.” Just as he takes his pants off you pull him into a deep kiss. His hands find their way back to your breasts, teasing your nipples as you massage his growing erection.

Mumbles and groans grow louder and you just couldn't take it anymore, pulling away slightly whispering a soft, “Please Arthur.”

You don’t even need to ask a second time before Arthur takes his length in his hand, trailing the tip of his penis between your wet folds moaning at the sensation. 

“Good god women.” He rests his forehead on yours, staring oh so lovely into your eyes before entering you. You couldn't help but moan. It had been a long time since he stretched you out, his ridges rubbing perfectly against your warm velvety walls. Letting out a low groan as he bottomed out. He pulls his hands to your sides, caressing you with a desperation you absolutely adored. 

He started moving, slow, deliberate, and deep. Relishing the noises you were making, the desperate grabs at his back. You needed this just as much as he did. Speeding up a little, hitting your g-spot everytime. Reaching down to bring Arthur's hand into yours, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

“Oh God Arthur.” You weren’t gonna last much longer, walls clenching around his  length. Heels digging into his back, pushing him deeper.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” His pace speeding up a little, he wasn’t gonna last much longer either. 

With a few more strokes and messy kisses, you came undone. Walls spasming on his cock with such a vigor he had never felt before. Moaning loudly, you pulled his sweaty forehead down to meet yours once again. He looked into your eyes as he came, watching the way your face contorted when you felt his warm cum filling you up. 

Panting heavily as his thrusts slowed, collapsing down onto you as you panted. Wrapping your arms around him, kissing his head tenderly. 

As you both layed there, the world around you seemed to dissipate. He looked up at you, the orange glow of the dying fire highlighting the sweat on your face and the frizziness of your tousled hair. And he swore, you never looked better.

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[brainwashedsmogbreathingprincess]

DC should be making more movies aimed at children/families because outside of the trinity and co i think DC has become a bit nichce. While I understand that compared to marvel, particularly in the last couple decades, it's been a bit more skewed towards adults (The isn't me asking for less of that it's just they could do more) They've got like twenty decent characters that would make great family movies but they just keep abusing batman. That being said I'm here to talk about robin.

While being around almost as long as batman and being what I'd consider an essential part of his character, most audiences only recognise robin from teen titans, young justice and titans, and even then since these shows no longer run

When I say movies aimed at children and families I'm aware that DC does make animated movies but outside of Lego batman, super pets and the teen titans go movie I wouldn't really say they play to a family audience I don't think they've made anything to the level of spider verse before. Not necessarily in terms of art style (although yeah give artists a space to create and play about) but more a movie that puts robin or fuck any of the other child heroes they have theain character seat.

A Robin movie would be so cool, of course there'd have to be Batman included but he's treated like an actual side character, like maybe don't even push the mentor role too much because I think we forget how young Bruce was when he took him in. A 9 year thinks nothing of a 25 year old. The movie would center on a young dick Grayson who just watched his parents die, in a city that's not his, ripped away from his only family and he's angry and vengeful and the first half of the movie is him just trying to seek justice by himself and it can end up being a parallel to Bruce's own feelings about self isolation . A focus on his relationship with Alfred instead of Bruce, because between a grey British butler and a depressed furry who's a kid gonna respect. There's been more discussion of Dick as the angry robin but how great would that be for kids to see a kid with reasonable and maybe even relatable anger issues work through that on screen.

So yeah that, three movies afterwards and a we a robin TV series. And we see the family fill in with each movie.

Second movie would actually skip to tim drake with flashbacks of Jason. Third, under the red hood inspired and maybe Jason brings Damian with him cause why tf not. Maybe a break here and a batgirls show that starts with Steph as robin and she meets Cassandra and Barbara trains them up. fourth Damian becomes robin but it's a kinda city of bane situation and he watches Alfred die and after helping defeat bane he takes a break and just gets to be a child because he especially never fully got that. All the robins relationship with Alfred would need to be intense here because honestly he is the one that is constantly in those kids' corner and encouraging their nonsense sometimes, he's the reason Tim ends up becoming robin and he's most likely the only person Jason would respect after everything

The we are robin series obviously focuses on Duke with guest batfam in each episode. The robins are being headed by an AI Alfred either Bruce or Tim made, and it's weirdly lifelike to the point where Duke becomes close to it referencing Agent A in a way that is disturbingly accurate to the bats when he first starts mentioning him in passing. It ends Duke becomes signal and we do a batman and the signal movie a while after.

[crowsofdarkness]

Time: Chapter Six

-gif not mine. credit to owner.-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: fluff, angst, language, violence, and mentions of death.

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky could withstand anything, even time itself.

Authors Note: This series will have twenty one chapters, some of which will be short and quick, and takes place throughout the forties. I did my best to line up the days along with Captain America: The First Avenger. Tags are open if anyone is interested!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr @starfly-nicole @ell0ra-br3kk3r @baw1066

Time Masterlist

February 14, 1942

My heels smacked hard against the concrete as I stormed away from the restaurant, it getting smaller and smaller the farther I got. I had been sitting inside the nice restaurant for over an hour, waiting for Bucky to meet me but he never showed. The other couples at the restaurant could practically see the anger radiate off my body when I slowly began to realize that I had been stood up. 

I stomped up the stairs towards my apartment and with a hard slam of the door, I made a beeline to the phone in its place in the kitchen, fingers working fast to dial the number I had burned into my brain. 

“Hello?” 

The anger subsided when I heard the young voice answer the phone. 

“Hi Rebecca. It’s Y/N. Is your brother home?” 

There was some rustling on the other end of the line and some voices bickering before Rebeca’s came through again. 

“Uh, he left a few hours ago to meet you.” 

Bless her heart; it didn’t take a genius to know that she had lied through the phone. 

“Put him on, Becks,” I demanded. 

A bit of rustling on the other end once more and when I heard the deep voice, I didn’t hold back. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, how dare you? You stood me up at the restaurant. I looked like such a fool sitting there waiting for you to show up!” 

“Doll-.” 

My voice cut him off. “Don’t doll me, James. It’s Valentine's Day and you stood me up! I’m all decked out for you and you couldn’t even show up.” 

“I know, Y/N. I picked up extra hours at work and I didn’t realize we had a date tonight,” Bucky apologized. 

“It’s Valentine's Day! How did you forget!?”

“Look, Y/N, I’ve had a long day and if you’re going to flip your wig I don’t want to hear it,” Bucky sighed. 

I scoffed loudly while shaking my head. “Screw you, Barnes. If you want to be alone, well you’re in luck. Your schedule opened up because I’m done. Goodbye.” 

Not bothering to hear what he had to say, I slammed the phone down. My feet were glued in place, hands shaking with anger at my side. It suddenly clicked in my brain what I said to Bucky and regret washed over me. 

Did I break up with him? 

Would he take it seriously? 

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I eyed the phone but quickly shook my head. If I called him back, he would think I wasn’t mad anymore. I needed him to realize how upset I was at him for forgetting about our date. I ignored the nagging voice in the back of my head as I headed towards my room, ready to forget this day. 

There was a soft tune playing on the other side of my door which caused my tired eyes to slowly open. A groan slipped through my lips and I rolled out of bed, tying my robe around my exposed body; opting to always sleep in a tank top and underwear. 

“What on earth,” I mumbled when my feet came to a stop in my living room. 

The room had been decorated with candles, a handful of bouquets of roses, and some rose petals flooded the floor around me. What captured my eyes, however, was the man standing in the middle of it all. His hair slicked back and his best black suit clung onto his body in the best places. 

“Bucky?” I asked, sleep still heavy in my voice. 

“I let myself in with the key under the rock. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that it’s not safe to leave a key outside,” Bucky shook his head with a smile. 

“What is all this?” 

I ignored his comment about the key. It was almost a daily discussion between the two of us. 

“After our fight earlier, I had a one-sided conversation with my ma. She made me realize what an idiot I was. I shouldn’t have stood you up tonight and I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?” He pouted while holding up the beautiful bouquet of white roses in his hand. 

Any anger or worry I was still clutching onto faded away and my lips curled into a large smile. I extended my hand towards him, expecting to get the flowers, but Bucky fingers laced through mine and pulled me into his chest. My hands spread over the thickness of his chest and I marveled at how defined his muscles were under my touch. 

The soft tune of our favorite record played in the background as Bucky and I swayed to the music. 

“I feel underdressed,” I pointed towards my robe. 

Bucky smirked before stepping away, quickly shook out of his jacket and shirt before stepping out of his pants. He was now standing in front of me in a crisp white undershirt and a pair of his dark briefs; one of my favorites. 

“How’s this, doll?” He questioned with a raised brow. 

“Much better,” I giggled. 

Our bodies melted together once again and I allowed myself to rest my cheek against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It pounded faster than usual which silently told me that he was nervous about something. 

“Something wrong?” 

Bucky brushed his lips across my forehead. “I don’t want to worry you, doll.” 

“Tell me,” I urged him with a squeeze to his hips. 

We continued to dance to the slow music. 

Bucky avoided my gaze at first but eventually sighed. “My friend Sam from work got his orders this morning.”

This time, it was my heart that began to pound against my chest hearing the news. The war overseas was something that loomed over our heads, not knowing if it would come between us. We never talked about it, however, knowing that if we did one of us would not be happy. 

“Are you afraid?” I questioned. 

Bucky spun me around, bringing our bodies closer together. “A little but if I get my orders, I don’t have a choice but to go.” 

I nodded. “I know.” 

The conversion seized with Bucky dipping me low and softly pressing his lips on mine. My fingers played with the ends of his hair while we continued to kiss, enjoying the moment between us.

“I love you,” he muttered against my lips. 

“I love you too, Bucky.”

Before either of us could truly understand what would happen in the next few weeks, the reality we were ignoring would slam into us rocking our relationship to the core. 

[snowfires]

SINCE WE’RE TALKING ABOUT WHAT IFS.. Kinda curious how it woulda gone if it were one of the other Bad Sanses that Reader healed instead of Killer! I have a feeling Cross will be one of the nicer ones and maybe Dust as the most hostile?

Ahh I’ve been waiting to answer this ask! I wanted to cover the events up to and including chapter 10 for this.

Major spoilers for chapter 10 under the cut! Go read that first.

Dust:

Having a human walk in when he is severely injured would incite a violent reaction in Dust. He’d lunge at you, trying to use the last of his strength to summon bones and kill you. You would have to wait until he knocked himself out to heal him.

Of course, seeing how dangerous he was, you wouldn’t heal him completely as you had for Killer. Instead, you’d heal him only enough so he would live before leaving.

Months later, when the Bad Sanses come for you and you flee to find Muffet, Dust recognizes you. He’s still aggressive—you are the enemy. But… he doesn’t choke you. Doesn’t play. Dust completes the mission as ordered, delivering you to Nightmare in his own arms. While he is still aggressive with you afterwards, it doesn’t take nearly as long for Dust to start liking you.

Horror:

Horror is the only member of the MTT that wouldn’t instantly attack you. You aren’t underground, so this is probably a pacifist timeline. Allowing you to approach is okay. You heal him completely and, like with Killer, end up passing out. While Killer was initially fascinated by your sacrificial healing, Horror is endeared to it right away. He stays with you until you rouse and insists on bringing you home.

When you hear his name, you’re overcome with fear, something that Horror takes note of. Of course, if you’ve travelled the multiverse you would have heard the rumours. He leaves you alone for a while, but when Cross ends up hurt around the time chapter five takes place, he brings the soldier to get fixed up by you.

Afterwards, Horror begins to visit more often, but not nearly as much as Killer. He slowly breaks down your walls, and you’re able to start liking him for who he is now, rather than fear his actions in the past. His crush on you isn’t something Horror will act on, not without you having met Dust first, but he’s a patient monster. He can bring you into their family eventually, convince Dust that you’d be good at their side.

When he and Cross find you in the alleyway, Horror is angry. You must have known the entire time and declined to tell him. How much had he told you about his family that you could use against them on behalf of the Stars?

Muffet helps you escape, and like in the fic itself, Killer captures you. But Horror takes a long time before he visits you in the dungeon. Eventually, he realizes how little you knew, and regains his affections for you.

Cross:

Fun fact about Cross—he’s only been in the gang five years and is still learning the complicated process of shortcutting between AUs. In this scenario, Cross would be so injured he jumps randomly, hoping to go back home but landing in an unknown world.

He is an absolute mess when a beautiful woman comes to heal him and hurts herself for him. He insists on taking you home himself.

The only problem is… he is stuck. With no way to call the others, because Cross hates phones and doesn’t bring them on missions. You offer him to stay at your home (which freaks him out), and the two of you end up living together for a whole month before the other’s find him. Why did it take them so long? Because Cross is in absolute bliss, rarely feeling anything negative. By the time they do find him, you’ve already started dating.

Cross leaves without telling you. That kind of life… it isn’t good for you.

He caves and comes back two weeks later, assisted by Killer. You continue your relationship (with Killer also starting to fall for you). When Nightmare sends them to find Dream’s healer, and Cross finds you in the alleyway, he realizes what’s happened. Unlike all of the others though, he doesn’t believe for a moment that you did this on purpose. Dream left you in the dark. This is his fault. He tries to help you leave, but you are ultimately caught by Nightmare.

Safe to say, Cross has a lot of explaining to do when they get home.

Nightmare:

Nightmare rarely gets injured. As mentioned in chapter ten, his corruption pieces him together after any attacks other than those from Dream. You find him in the woods, writhing in pain, and though it takes you a while to figure out how to heal his wounds, you eventually do.

Nightmare is… surprised. You must have a significant amount of power to be able to heal his wounds. He too returns you to your home, delighting in your collection of magical encyclopedias. He can bring you more. Teach you how to really use those powers.

Unfortunately, gaining favour from an eldritch being is not always a good thing. He starts to dump his boys in your apartment whenever they’re injured for you to heal, testing the limits of your abilities. His plan to take you in as their personal healer is solidified when Killer and Horror begin to like you.

The problem arises when he brings Cross to you. Unlike the MTT, Cross exclusively refers to Nightmare with his actual name. You realize just who you’ve been helping, assume Nightmare also knew this entire time, and are terrified.

Your fear and the weird behaviour that follows is all Nightmare needs to realize who you are. But of course, you didn’t know who he was all this time. He’s never sensed deceit from you. Perhaps there is a chance yet that you become their healer. He acts as if nothing has happened, insisting on spending more time together. He picks apart every assumption you ever had about who he is until you trust him again.

By the time Dream realizes who you’re spending time with, it’s too late. Nightmare has taken you from this AU.

What he wouldn’t know, however, is just how willingly you went with him.

Error:

No thanks. Absolutely not. Error does not want anyone touching him when he’s injured, let alone Ink’s anomaly. Any attempts to help him end with you wrapped up in his strings and booted to the Doodleverse for Ink to find. He’ll fix himself up on his own.

[cherryblossomfairyy]

"We never go out off style"

Pairing : spencer reid x reader

Summary : the endless circle of your relationship with Spencer along the lyrics of the song "Style" by Taylor Swift.

"Midnight." The night air was thick with tension as I slipped into his car. "You come and pick me up, no headlights. Long drive." Just the hum of the engine and the open road ahead.

"It's been a while since I have even heard from you", but the moment I got his text— "You up?" —I knew I couldn’t say no. I should have tried atleast. "I should just tell you to leave 'cause I Know exactly where it leads, but I." But here I was, watching the city lights blur past, lost in the thrill of something I couldn’t quit.

He glanced at me with that "James Dean daydream look in his eyes" , a smirk playing at his lips. "Miss me?" I wanted to say no, but if I were honest with myself, then yes. But I couldn’t tell him that. His ego would get to big. The only thing I could say was "I missed you, but only if you have missed me". I knew he had, otherwise we wouldn't be here. "And I got that red lip classic thing that you like"

In a low voice, he answered "Ofcourse I missed you. I can't stop thinking of you." I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the way my heart raced. He had that effect on me. The bad habit I could never break.

I started to reminisce of a better time, where I could never call him a bad habit. We were at a BAU summer barbecue. All the team members and their loved ones together, enjoying a rare day off in the summer sun. I remember we took a group photo. "You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt. And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt". That photo now is probably in the paper shredder in Spencer's home office.

As we pulled up to his place, he killed the engine. The silence stretched between us, thick with unsaid words. He reached for the door handle, but I stopped him. I had too ask him if the rumors were true, and if so, I wanted to go home. Not awkwardly sitting on his couch.

"I heard, oh. That you've been out and about with some other girl, some other girl". I said, my voice sharp. I wanted to sound indifferent, but my heart betrayed me.

He sighed, rubbing a hand through his slicked-back hair. "What you heard is true", he admitted."But I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you and I"

I should’ve left. Should’ve demanded he drove me home immediately or simply walked in the cold night. But instead, I whispered, "I’ve been there too. A few times."

Because that was us. A cycle we couldn’t break. The crash and the comeback. The fire and the ashes. "And when we go crashing down, we come back every time. Cause we never go out of style".

No matter how many times we fell apart, we never really ended. We both knew it should have stopped the first time we broke up. This wasn't healthy, it slowly killed me every time I saw him. Like a poisoned visual.

But we never learned. The cycle just kept repeating itself. One of us broke first, and texted the other to meet up. Followed by awkward small talk, confessions that we could never save us, not even the first time. Looking back at the better days. And in the end getting hit with the realisation that we never stop burning down. Our destiny was set in stone.

With the same tears as always, I asked with a voice I only use when I'm with him"take me home. Just take me home". He nodded, aware that tonight we again crashed and burned down. Maybe better luck next time we see each other. "Cause we never go out of style."

[buckwhitaker]

Buck’s lips twitched at that, a shadow of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “House rules, huh?” He leaned his forearms against the bar, rolling his glass between his hands. “Guess I’d be a damn fool to argue with management.”

He wasn’t the kind of man who took handouts, but if Lulu was calling it even, he wouldn’t fight her on it. Besides, the warmth of another drink was starting to sound like a fine idea. Anything to keep him anchored, to keep the night from stretching too thin around him.

His gaze flicked to her hands, deft and sure even as the cold nipped at her fingers. “You ever take a break, or they got you runnin’ ragged all night?” His voice was easy, but there was something behind it—something almost like concern, if he let himself admit it.

He lifted his fresh drink in an easy toast. “Well, if this one’s on the house, guess I owe you next time.” He took a slow sip, letting the burn settle, then shot her a knowing look. “Long as I don’t end up with somethin’ godawful as payback.”

It was nice to have a familiar face around the bar, one amongst the regulars and the ones who had simply come for a night out. Lulu hadn't seen the likes of Buck since they were outside the church, smoking to forget whatever had put him in the papers, and Baylor in a coffin.

She'd planned on comping one, though Lulu couldn't tell just when Buck was about to be done. The dark beer she'd accidentally poured had only gone to the man beside him because, given his order, the bartender was certain he'd hate it, even if it was free beer.

"Yeah, yeah. I was gettin' to you." With a roll of her eyes, she poured a pint of what he'd been drinking Buck's way as she grasped the cash with her other hand. "You woulda spit out the other pour, I know your taste."

He'd given her too much. While Lulu wasn't above accepting handouts from the older men who were arguably paying extra to ogle, Buck was the last person here to do that. "Keep the change," she insisted, "unless you want another one'a those. You earned yourself one--house rules."

[ikesenwritings]

completed routes

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ikesen

nobunaga | romantic, dramatic, passionate (sequel)

mitsuhide | romantic, dramatic

hideyoshi | romantic, dramatic

mitsunari | romantic, dramatic

ieyasu | romantic, dramatic

masamune | romantic, dramatic, passionate (sequel)

keiji | dramatic

kenshin | romantic, dramatic

shingen | romantic, dramatic

sasuke | dramatic

yukimura | romantic

kanetsugu | dramatic

ikevamp

napoleon | romantic

mozart | romantic

leonardo | romantic, dramatic

arthur | romantic

vincent | dramatic

theodorus | romantic

isaac | romantic, dramatic

jean | romantic

dazai | romantic

vlad | romantic

ikepri

yves | dramatic

licht | dramatic

jin | dramatic

chevalier | dramatic

clavis | romantic

nokto | romantic, dramatic

rio | dramatic

ikerev

ray | dramatic

dalim | romantic

midcin

alyn | sugar

currently playing:

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updated 08.22.24 (mm/dd/yy)