#I know his name / I think about him every day

[miihho]

Can you write type of guy headcanons for thanos (230) please? thx <33

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition) nsfw

English

Korean

Thanos / Player 230

—THANOS IS THE KIND OF GUY who’d shamelessly flirt with you, his words dripping with confidence and charm. He’d slip in Spanish pet names like "señorita" so naturally, it was as if he were born to sweep you off your feet.

There was one day when he suddenly dropped to his knees, a smirk dancing on his lips as he grabbed your hand gently. "I might just start my own religion, because of how often I find myself on my knees for you." He said as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt your face heat up, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks at the boldness of his actions.

He’d also call you every sweet name in the book—"baby," "angel," "princess," "beautiful"—each one rolling off his tongue with effortless confidence. And if that weren’t enough, he’d take it a step further, rapping his feelings for you in a way that was both cheesy and undeniably endearing.

—He’s the kind of guy who’d have a slow-burn romance without even realizing it. At first, it’s nothing more than casual interactions, small moments here and there. He doesn’t notice the shift—how his thoughts linger on you longer than they should, how he starts to care just a little bit more. It’s gradual, almost imperceptible, until one random moment hits him. Like it would suddenly click that he likes you. And now, he can’t stop thinking about it.

—He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t give up on you, no matter how many times you ignored him. Your cold shoulder, your silence—it didn’t faze him. If anything, it only fueled his determination. He’d chase after you relentlessly, his confidence unwavering, his charm impossible to ignore, until you had no choice but to face him.

He spotted you weaving through the crowd, your determined strides screaming leave me alone. Naturally, that only made his grin wider. He adjusted his jacket, his confidence as unshakable as ever, and started after you.

"Señorita!" he called out, you didn’t even glance back at him, but when he saw your pace quicken, it only fueled his determination. He caught up easily, walking alongside you like he belonged there.

"Ah, playing hard to get? I like that," he teased, tilting his head to glance at you with that infuriatingly smug smile. "But you know, you make it way too easy for me to chase you baby. You’re irresistible."

You rolled your eyes and turned sharply, hoping to lose him in the crowd. But the next corner you turned, there he was—leaning casually against a wall, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting there all along.

"Miss me already?" he teased with a smirk, his body blocking your path. "You can run, but you can't hide princess. Not from me."

You tried to sidestep him, but before you could get far, he placed a hand dramatically over his heart, feigning hurt. "Ouch, breaking my heart like that? Really?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes in disbelief. "Just stop, I can’t stand you."

With a smirk that practically oozed confidence, he leaned in slightly, his voice teasing yet bold. "Then just sit on my face."

"W-what!?" You froze, eyes wide with shock, your heart pounding. "Just fuck off!" you snapped, brushing past him quickly, your face flushed in a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

He chuckled, watching you retreat with that same infuriating smirk. But you knew, as much as you tried to get away, he wouldn’t stop. He was persistent, and no matter how many times you brushed him off, he’d keep following, keep bothering you.

—He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t tolerate some random guy flirting with you. If he saw it happening, he wouldn’t hesitate to step in. He’d interrupt the conversation, push the guy back with a forceful shove, and growl, "Back off man! Who the fuck do you think you are hitting on my girl!?" (Yeah even tho you're not his yet)

If the guy was making you laugh or smile, he’d simmer in silence, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. Once the guy was alone, he’d track him down, corner him, and with a dangerous edge to his voice, he’d lean in, his eyes burning with fury.

"Stay the fuck away from Y/n. Got it?" He said, his fist landing a brutal punch to the guy’s stomach, leaving him crumpled on the floor. "She’s my girl," he’d add, his tone low and possessive. "My woman."

—He’s the kind of guy who can’t help but yell, "Ah, there’s my girl!" with a huge grin spreading across his face when you made it out alive. Without a second thought, he’d rush to you, scoop you up in a tight embrace, and hold you like he’d never let go. "I’m so happy you're alive, baby. God, you don’t know how much I missed you." His grip would tighten as if to never let you slip away again.

—He’s the kind of guy who isn’t intimidated by you. He’ll rush toward you, full of energy, relieved that you made it through when the lights went out. While everyone else stood frozen in fear, staring in shock, you were casually wiping blood off your hands, having taken down a whole group without breaking a sweat.

—He’s the kind of guy who can’t believe he’s dating you after you finally accepted him. Like, a guy like him? Sure, he’s Thanos and pretty damn cool, but damn, you’re way cooler than him. So, every now and then, he’ll just blurt out, “Damn, I’m dating her?” when he thinks about you, or “I can’t believe she’s mine.” and his friend will just stare at him, completely weirded out.

—He's the kind of guy who's wildly in love with you, the type to fight a wild animal just to impress you. He lives to make you laugh, even if it means pulling off the dumbest, most ridiculous stunts. His love is chaotic, loud, and endlessly entertaining, but that's what makes it so unforgettable.

One day he tried to bake you a cake from scratch, only to set off the smoke alarm—but he still proudly presented you with the lopsided, half-burnt result, claiming it was "made with love." Or he'd show up at your door with a bouquet made of random wildflowers (and weeds), proudly declaring it’s “nature’s finest” while grinning like a fool.

—He’s the kind of guy who would let you paint his nails in any color you choose or decorate them however you like, all because he loves you and wants you to have that little piece of him.

—Thanos is the kind of guy who always needs to be in physical contact with you when you're together—his hand on your thigh, his arm around your shoulders. He craves that connection, that constant reassurance of your presence. Public displays of affection? He couldn’t care less. If you want him to kiss you in front of everyone, consider it done. If you mention he can kiss you after a game, why would he wait for privacy when he can claim you right in front of his friends? For him, it’s not just about the kiss—it’s about showing the world that you’re his and making sure you feel adored, no matter where you are.

—He’s the kind of guy who’s utterly captivated by your thighs, completely addicted to the way they feel wrapped around him. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be, no place more intoxicating than being suffocated by your softness.

He doesn’t just admire them—he worships them. His lips leave a trail of love marks along your skin, his way of claiming every inch as his own. Between kisses, his voice comes out low and teasing, filled with desire. (He also loves eating you out while you're wrapping your thighs around his head and getting suffocated by it. )

—He’s the kind of guy who would cover you in hickeys, leaving them all over your neck and thighs, a clear sign that you’ve been claimed and are already his. With a smirk, he’d tell you he’s just marking his priority, as if every mark is a reminder of who you belong to.

—He’s the kind of guy who’d proudly show you off to his friends with a grin and say, “Yeah, this my girl right here.” And damn, he wouldn’t just say it—he’d feel like the luckiest guy alive to have you by his side.

—He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just take you—he claims you. If he ever finds out you're with someone else, he'll make sure you remember exactly who you belong to.

Thanos' rough words dripped with condescension as he gripped your hips, pulling you onto his thick shaft in one brutal thrust. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pound into your mercilessly. "You're fucking mine, this fucking tight pussy is mine," he snarled, his balls slapping against your ass with each savage stroke. "This fat cock is the only thing you need. That pathetic loser can't touch this, can he?" He reached down to rub you clit, his fingers pinching the sensitive bud as he continued to ravage you. "Hngg!...—pls s'too much! too much! Thanos m'sorry p-please I w-won't do it again."

"Stop?" He chuckled, "We both know you love this. Being used like a cheap whore, stuffed full of dick. Admit it, you'd rather choke on my cum than go back to that limp-dicked loser."

—Hes the kind of guy who loves messy blow jobs. The sight of your lips stretched obscenely around his throbbing cock, your eyes glazed over in blissful submission, he fucking loves it. Loves how you surrendered completely, letting him control every movement as he fucks your mouth.

"Fuck... Your throat was made for my dick, wasn't it? Such a perfect fit, like you were born to worship my cock." he moaned, tangling his fingers in your hair and using your mouth like a cheap fleshlight as he chased his pleasure. The wet sounds of sloppy oral sex filled the air, punctuated by your muffled whimpers and gurgles. (Gosh he fucking loves that) "Fuck yes... hngg—take it baby, take it all, you filthy little cumdump!" His hips snapped forward, burying his cock to the hilt in your gullet while thick ropes of cum spilled in your mouth, forcing you to gag and sputter around his girth. "Look at you, such a good girl, gagging on my dick like it's your purpose in life. You were meant to be a cumdump, weren't you? Fucking slut."

—He's the kind of guy who loses his shit when you squirt into his mouth, he just fucking loves it when you're flooding his mouth with your ambrosial release. Saying "Holy shit," "I love you so fucking much baby," "Mmmm, you're fucking addictive as hell, baby. Can't get enough of this sweet juices." as he greedily laps up every drop. Just the taste of your squirting orgasm would send him into a fucking frenzy.

—He's the kind of guy who takes you apart piece by piece every time he gets you alone, his usual cruel exterior dissolving into raw, unbridled need. He doesn't just touch you—he worships you, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony to draw out every moan, every shiver, every scream he can pull from you.

"You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum for me," he'd say, his voice dripping with hunger as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. His lips never leave your skin, trailing kisses and bites down your thighs, across your stomach, up to your neck.

"Look at you, spread open and dripping for me like the filthy little slut you are," he taunted, dragging a finger through your slick folds. "I bet all those prissy boys never made you feel this good, did they? They probably couldn't handle a real woman like you." he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as your body writhes beneath him. Even when your legs shake and your cries turn into breathless pleas, he doesn’t stop. He keeps you teetering on the edge, drawing out orgasm after orgasm until you’re left trembling, completely undone, and utterly his.

[acid-ixx]

tell your baby, that i'm your baby. (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere damian wayne x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere superfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

this is written in regards to one of my drabbles, i can't help but sigh at just how good the angst is for damian in this series.

because in loving family, unpalatable desire, you pretty much exclusively nickname him "dami, baby," from day one right after meeting him. you say it not in a way that you wish to overstep your boundaries at simply being his stepparent - you're aware, despite the ache in your chest admitting it, that you'll never come quite close to talia's standing in his heart, it's simply impossible with how she raised him her entire life before being dropped off in bruce's care - but because you find the boy adorable if you look past his intent at trying to murder you at every passing glance.

or maybe it's just you trying to cope with the pain of your situation, that you consider them all your beloved children, yet never being once called their parent throughout your entire marriage that breaks apart the illusion of a happy home life, that this wasn't the marriage you wanted at all; that you'll never bear a time in your life stuck in the manor seeing their genuine smiles directed at you even if you attempt to approach as patiently as possible in hopes your presence might be accepted— even if it results in awkward laughs at your cringy jokes at the dinner table, or one of damian's weapons nearly plunging the side of your head.

maybe, it's such a struggle to keep the flicker of light alive in your body whenever all your hardships fail, and all throughout you find your husband with lipstick stains all over his white collar every time he comes home that your mind forces itself to believe that with enough trial and error, maybe one of them could eventually tolerate, rather than pity you.

unfortunately, you chose damian, the one who you're convinced arguably despises you the most, of all people living or visiting the manor to run the test.

so in all the instances you chirp out his nickname, so fondly, so eminently heard across the walls of the manor, even in the spacious expanse of the gardens could your voice be heard from miles away, all because you wish to bond with him, praising his artworks with your grating voice, to give him intricate gifts you know will be discarded in the trash in front of you; you'll be met with a stubborn glare and mean comments about how he'll never consider you his parent, to relinquish your delusions at thinking he'll even let you past his walls, and how he'll never follow through the orders of a scum like you.

which is what you're forced to deal with every single day, coupled with harsh reminders of their happiness without the need for your presence beside them.

sometimes, his reactions could be his typical harsh comments, you've grown accustomed enough to differentiate what is harmless and what borders on violence; it's enough to know when to stop bothering him despite your best efforts. other times, it would be as intense as running a sword through the strands of your hair until he chops it at the end with a threat to cut off your tongue right after if you dare call him that putrid nickname again that cuts deeper than any wound.

with every trial of becoming closer to him, results in an even widening crack in your relationship with the young boy. and eventually, with enough sighs under your breath and harsh glares from him, you'll come into terms that you'll never form a cordial bond with the young boy. it's just impossible with how he views you, sheltered and undeserving because of your family's reputation of being money laundering scum.

at that period of time, you instead chose to strengthen your relationship with the reporter who saved you one day from the paparazzi's cruel interviews, the cute man from the daily planet whose name is clark kent with an even more adorable son, jon, who welcomed you with open arms and a tight hug on your stomach, muttering about how he's so excited to meet his new parent, just when you first stepped on the doors of your affair partner's home; that was enough to relinquish any anguish you felt at the manor replaced with absolute joy at what seems to be the first time you're considered the parent, part of a family, in a completely different household.

it helps erase the shadow of doubt that you may be cursed to never be accepted into an established family with just how bright, how comparable jon was to an overexcitable golden retriever, bonding with you since day one unlike all the other insufferable moments crammed into a jam-packed dinner table— only for your voice to be discarded and overpowered by others.

you start to call him your baby instead, completely in awe at the cute freckles littering his sun-kissed skin and the country boy accent he adopted from his dad. you couldn't help but hold his cheeks in your palms and kiss all over his face whilst you kneel to his level, laughing along with the giggles erupting from his throat that creates this harmonious melody in clark's ears, who watches you scoop the boy into your arms just to swing him back and forth in cuteness aggression, just how it always should've been with you.

clark pictures the moment together, capturing jon's smooshed face shadowed by your hair whilst you look at his, no, your son with inexplicable joy, eyes crinkled and shining brightly under the halo of the sunset.

and clark doesn't even have to see just much jon loves and cherishes you at first glance.

he wouldn't even dare compare you to his late mother, never once calling you a replacement or a homewrecker, placing you upon a pedestal you deserve to be instead; because let's face it, you simply live in the manor, but your true home is where clark and jon, and ma and pa kent are at. pictures of your little family are framed in your shared bedroom for you to graze your finger upon whenever you wish to reminisce the blessings bestowed upon meeting your affair partner at just by chance.

but you shouldn't have forgotten about damian that quickly, not when jon all-too suddenly shoves that photo of you in his wallet in front of his face, it made damian's mind go off in a tangent, in both curiosity and frustated yet unstated interrogations at your sudden disappearance (your grating voice don't call out to him anymore, and suddenly, the manor is quieter; he despises that feeling of emptiness more than he does of your nickname for him) then reappearance as jon's, funny, hah—!

jon's parent.

and in moments of careful investigation does he realize—

when you're with jon, his best friend, when he spies in on you at the little farm you now live in, currently alone with someone whom you call your true son, that he comes to realize just how much that nickname means so much to him, as your voice, with that soft tone, scold his friend with that familiar warmth you always used to direct at him with the softest of gaze, an angel unlike the sea of rich bastards he meets at the galas who only communicate with him to form connections, advantages by being associated with a family of the wayne's.

it's only when you're stripped away from him that he realizes how much he relishes your sweet occupancy into his heart, how there's always been an unbidden, forbidden chamber in his heart that beats for the love you offer him that was unlike the harsh environment he was born in.

he's never been adorned with such a delicate title that portrays him the opposite of what he's raised to be; damian has always been the blood son, son of the bat and heir to the demon king's throne, but never something as fond, as unforeseen as someone's baby.

it just thwarts the spark of hope in his heart and extends the lump in his throat at the scene that plays before him, the loving nickname you oh-so carefully address him now relinquished and graced to another boy, his friend no less— who you considered yours, who he's aware is way more deserving of being called your baby rather than him, who had always denied you from the very start.

"jon, baby, you help me clean the windows tomorrow, alright, young man? it's stained with all your fingerprints!" you scold him as assertively as you can, kneeling down to his level and pinching his cheeks all while grinning at the boy. jon retorts with a tongue out his lips and a scrunch of his nose. it garners a laugh from you, one damian swore he's never heard sounded so desirable until now.

why are you calling jon your baby?

"not my fault, mom/dad! i get so excited to see you come home every time you have to return there!" damian seethes at the scene of jon's pouting and puppy-eyes looking up at you, that should've been him.

"can't you just stay here? forever?"

damian despises how he engraves the melody of your laughter in reply to jon's words, right into his eardrums, but omits the disgustingly sweet chirp in your voice calling jon, not him, your baby. his mind nips away at the memories at all the moments you addressed him too, and how he always rejected and corrected you to call him by his name like a proper person rather than a maniac pushing themself into his life.

he doesn't want to ever hear you address him, if it means it's not by his nickname that you now call jon.

damian couldn't even deny how the huge grin that stretches across your face at the sight of his best friend scalds him with bitterness, he wasn't even aware you're capable of such enjoyment, not when back at the manor your hesitant with even displaying a tinge of happiness— as if you're capable of doing so, not when he knows he's one of the main contributors for being the reason of your current affair.

and yet he wishes he could lie and say he didn't miss it, miss your expectant stare at him, the contrast of talia's comfort compared to yours, when the hugs you offer him, the gifts carefully curated to his preferences, the palpable love that never once wavered for your family that you could never call yours, they all seem like a distant dream now that you're away from them; from him.

it hurts watching you two communicate even further, for once it's him in the background watching like an outsider instead of you. for once, he understands what isolation feels like, what foreboding desires fester deep into his scarred soul that could only be cured with one of the softest cuddly hugs, the sweetest, flutter of your lashes as you stare oh-so fondly at jon like he meant the world to you, like it was only the two of you in the world embracing the light filtering through the windows, side by side, inseparable.

if there was one wish he could conjure, a desire he was trained to forfeit himself to feel that creeps its way into the depths of his guarded heart— it's that once you put jon into bed - even if it takes hours, even his heart feels like it's being squeezed out of blood watching your nightly, affectionate routine with jon; reading him bedtime stories, eating together, laughing lightly at the dinner table while you feed him your share of the plate, moments he never thought he felt compelled to spend with you - once he strikes at the perfect opportunity to talk to you, to confront your blunder of choosing them over him, of his woes towards your relationship—

he wishes, with unceasing faith, that you still love him enough to call him your baby once more.

a/n: let this blow up and i might just actually fix my schedule to give more updates. anyways, more damian wayne and jon kent content! one of my fave runs is with supersons and i love fluff paired with angst too so this is a win-win. pls leave in some comments about this series, since ngl i didn't give it as much love as i did for a&a 😭 so yes! mitski inspired chapter with more conflicting feelings. i'm still working around writer's block but everyone's undying support helps motivate me a lot!!!

taglist:

@starrydollita, @vellichorandhiraeth, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy.

[thundersoothers]

spike, the dog (still derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: continuation of this fic and this thought about john price being a softie for his wife and the dog you found on the side of the road (y’all LOVEDDDDD this, thank u omg)

word count: 0.9k

“We are not naming the fucking dog Gremlin.”

“Pooh Bear.” 

“No.” 

You and John are sitting in the living room, staring at the dog you picked up from the side of the road a few days ago, trying to come up with a name for him.  

Convincing your husband to let you keep the dog was a challenge.  It felt like you were debating with judge, jury, and executioner.  Stakes were high.  He was sitting across from you at the dining room table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.  His eyes were narrowed at you and his face was expressionless, giving nothing away as you plead your case. 

Somehow, you won. 

So now, here you both are, brainstorming names to replace “Puppy”.  You��re holding the dog in your arms on the couch and John is sitting across from you in his chair. 

“And where the hell did you come up with these names?” 

“I have a list.” 

“You have a list?” 

“I have a list,” you say, “of dog names and baby names.  Every girl does.” 

And then, for just a second, the room stills. 

“Baby names?” John asks. 

A shiver runs up the bottom of your spine and you sit up a little straighter.  You feel the air buzz and John’s heavy gaze on you. 

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at John and then back at the dog in your lap.  “But—Pooh Bear?” 

After a long second, he says, “No.”

“Georgie Banks.” 

“The actress?” 

“Wha— no, fucker, Georgie Banks from Mary Poppins.” 

“… I’ll consider it.  What else.” 

“Ja’Marcus.” 

“My love,” he says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together, looking at you seriously.  “What the fuck are you talking about.  It’s a dog.” 

“Tra’davious.” 

“I’m making a list,” he scoffs, sitting back again.  “Jesus.” 

“It’s a nice name!” you exclaim.  “What are you gonna name him, Scout?” 

He looks at you.  

You look at him. 

“No.”  Your face drops and you almost shudder.  “No, John, that’s not even funny.” 

“Oreo?”  The corner of his mouth twitches but he quickly steels himself. 

“Stop.”  You hold the dog close to your chest, horrified. 

“Rocky?” 

“No!” 

“Buddy?” 

“John.” 

“We could just call him Puppy.” 

“What is this, Bird Box?  When Sandra Bullock named her kids Boy and Girl?  We can’t just name the dog Dog.  We would sound like neglectful parents.” 

“Your friend has a dog named Cat,” John says. 

“And that gets confusing because she just got a cat.  I think she’ll have to rename Cat.  And by Cat I mean the dog.  Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head, eyebrows furrowed.  What a mess that would be. 

“We could name him after your team…?” you say, the idea popping into your head.  Then, you frown.  “I’m not calling him Kyle, though.  That’s too human.  Ghost?  He is—you know.”  You rub over the dog’s mangey back gently.  “A little ghastly, still.” 

“Riley?” 

“Who’s Riley?” 

“No one.”

You eye him.  “Must be one of your other wives…” 

He ignores you.  “It would inflate their egos too much.  They’re already insufferable enough.  And,” he adds, “they don’t need another reason to suck up to you.” 

“They don’t suck up to me,” you say. 

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “They suck up to you.” 

“A pun with Price?  Uhhhh… High?  Low?  Buy one get one?  Bogo?”  You hold up the dog, as if to present him.  “Bogo Price, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Price?” 

“You think you’re funny,” John says. 

“I think I’m hilarious.” 

“How about Mackie?  For Mack?  Soap’ld love that–Scottish for ‘my son’.” 

“… I’ll consider it.” 

“You did find him near Notting Hill.  Maybe Notting?” 

You shudder.  “No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Knotting.  It’s a—I’ll explain it to you later.”  

(By later you mean never.  Explaining A/B/O to your husband who doesn’t have any social media?  And has never heard of the website Ao3?  He’d have an aneurysm and then wonder why you know about it.  And you cannot have that conversation.) 

“What are the characters from Notting Hill again?” he says, scratching his chin. He needs to shave—well. You need to shave him, rather. “We just watched it.  William Thacker, Anna Scott, uh, her shit husband, what’s his name—“ 

“Jeff King.” 

“Jeff King, yeah.  King, maybe?” 

“Look at him, John.”  You turn the dog to face him.  He wiggles in your hands and yips, his tongue falling out of his mouth.  “He’s not a King.” 

He sighs and shakes his head.  “He’s not a King.” 

“What about William’s weird roommate?  Uh, Spike?” 

“Spike,” John repeats slowly. 

You nod.  “Spike.” 

You both focus on the dog. 

“I like Spike,” you say. 

“I like Spike, too.” 

You hum, considering this.  “Spike…”  You narrow your eyes and study the dog closely, holding him tighter in your hands. 

He yawns with a high-pitched whine and then hacks.  

“Jesus,” John mutters, shaking his head. 

“Better than Georgie, Banks, or Mackie?” 

“Yeah,” John says, “look at ‘im.  He’s a Spike.” 

“He’s such a Spike,” you muse.  “He’s gonna be huge, too.  I mean, look at his ears and paws–they’re already too big for him.  Shit, he’s probably gonna be 70 pounds or 30 kilos.” 

“We need to train him.” 

“Yeah.  I can hire a trainer?  Find one online.” 

“I could get a trainer from base.” 

“I do NOT want an army dog.” 

“It wouldn’t be an army dog.  It would be a dog trained by the army.” 

You eye him.  “John.” 

“Love.” 

You sigh.  “Fine.”

“Good girl.”

note: prob gonna make wife!reader and spike a universe/series bc i loveeeee them. I hope you enjoy!!!!

posted 01.02.2025.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ pretty when you cry ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? a part three, ultraviolence, and a part four, shades of cool.

˚ ༘♡ hwang in-ho, the man you once knew as young-il, the man who betrayed you in the most loathsome way imaginable, had taken control of your recovery. he rarely left your side in the early days, overseeing every detail with the precision of someone who understood pain all too well. his compound, sprawling, isolated, and fortified, became your prison. it was a place of unsettling contrasts, sterile medical equipment juxtaposed with lavish decor, soft furnishings that did nothing to dull the edges of the sharp reality you now inhabited.

˚ ༘♡ you were angry, your heart a storm of rage and bitterness, each glance at him igniting the fire anew. though, in the quiet moments, when he checked your bandages or sat silently by your side as you drifted in and out of restless sleep, you found yourself conflicted. his hands, steady and careful, worked with a tenderness that unsettled you more than the betrayal ever had. the small comforts he offered, adjusting your pillows, bringing you tea, gnawed at the walls of your resolve.

˚ ༘♡ days blurred into one another. your questions about jung-bae and gi-hun were met with deflection, his answers vague and evasive. each time you pressed, his expression darkened slightly, as though the weight of those unanswered truths bore down on him as well. “you’ll know when the time is right,” he would say, his voice serene, leaving you fuming with frustration and sorrow.

˚ ༘♡ as the weeks passed, your leg began to heal. the searing pain dulled into an ache, and eventually, the ache faded altogether. though your body recovered, your mind remained caged by the stark truth of your reality. in-ho allowed you freedom within the confines of the compound, but every step you took was shadowed by masked guards, their presence an ever-looming reminder that escape was futile.

˚ ༘♡ you tried anyway.

˚ ༘♡ the night was quiet, the air thick with tension as you crept through the corridors, your heart pounding in your chest. every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every shadow a potential threat. you had almost made it to what you thought was the outer gate when strong hands grabbed you, pulling you back with a force that sent terror crashing over you. the guards didn’t speak, their blank masks only adding to your dread as they dragged you back to your room, their grip unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ when in-ho appeared later, his expression was unreadable. he didn’t yell or chastise you. instead, he sat across from you, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t name. “i can’t allow you to leave,” he said softly, his tone devoid of malice. it wasn’t a threat, but it felt worse. his disappointment lingered in the air, suffocating, and you hated the guilt that bloomed in your chest.

˚ ༘♡ time moved forward, and with it, your body healed. the ache in your knee, once sharp and consuming, faded into nothingness, replaced by the intensity of strength you hadn’t felt in weeks. you could walk without hesitation now, no longer second-guessing every step. yet the freedom of movement felt hollow within the compound’s imposing walls. they surrounded you, stark and vast, a constant reminder of your captivity.

˚ ༘♡ you sat on the edge of your bed, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the faint scar peeking out from beneath the fabric of your clothing. the skin there was pale and slightly raised, a delicate line etched by pain and betrayal. you traced it with a mix of resignation and vexation, trying to reconcile the life you had before with the one you were living now.

˚ ༘♡ the sound of the door opening pulled you from your thoughts. you glanced up to see in-ho stepping inside, his presence filling the room with an air of quiet authority. he no longer wore the faceless mask that had once concealed him, his features open and bare. though his expression was calm, the weight of unspoken words seemed to settle between you, causing the air to feel suffocating.

˚ ༘♡ “would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked. his voice was measured, each word chosen carefully. though his tone was steady, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty, as if he was bracing himself for rejection. it wasn’t a demand, nor was it an expectation, it felt almost… tentative.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands resting in your lap. your anger hadn’t disappeared, it still lingered, simmering just beneath the surface, but it had softened with time, dulled by the care he had shown you. despite everything, despite the betrayal that still stung, he had been there, ensuring your recovery, tending to you with a patience you hadn’t expected.

˚ ༘♡ “i don’t think so,” you said at last, your tone gentle yet cautious. you weren’t trying to hurt him, though the words clearly did. you saw it in the way his face shifted, the faintest flicker of something vulnerable crossing his features before he composed himself once more.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t leave. instead, he lingered by the door, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “you need to eat,” he said quietly. his voice lacked its usual authority, replaced instead by something softer, something that bordered on worry.

˚ ༘♡ you turned your gaze toward the window, your focus slipping to the darkened landscape outside. the compound stretched endlessly into the night, its shadowy corners likely crawling with guards you couldn’t see but knew were there. “i’ll eat later,” you replied, the words barely above a murmur. they lacked bitterness, though the weight of unspoken emotion hung in the room.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was thick and suffocating. you expected him to retreat, to leave you to your solitude, but he didn’t move. his presence remained, steadfast and unwavering, as if he refused to let the distance between you grow any wider.

˚ ༘♡ and though you wouldn’t admit it, even to yourself, his refusal to leave made something in your chest ache. it wasn’t anger, or resentment, or even guilt, it was something far more complicated, something you weren’t ready to confront.

˚ ༘♡ you sat on the floor of your room, your legs pulled close to your chest, trembling as grief consumed you. the weight of unanswered questions bore down on you, suffocating and relentless. your heart ached for the friends you’d lost in the chaos of the games, dae-ho, jun-hee, jung-bae, gi-hun, and the others whose faces haunted your dreams. they deserved more than silence. they deserved answers.

˚ ༘♡ tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you pressed your palms into your eyes, your breath hitching with every sob that wracked your chest. the quiet elegance of the room around you only deepened the pain, its pristine luxury a cruel reminder of the blood and suffering you’d endured to end up here. “please,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of the plea. “tell me… tell me what happened to them.”

˚ ༘♡ in ho’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, as he crossed the room to where you sat. you didn’t meet his gaze, you couldn’t. instead, you gripped your knees tighter, shaking your head as the words spilled from your lips in a broken stream. “where are they? are they alive? do they even… do they even have a chance?”

˚ ༘♡ he crouched in front of you, his movements calm but hesitant, as though he feared his presence might shatter you further. his hands hovered near yours, unsure whether to reach out. “i can’t give you the answers you’re looking for,” he said quietly, his tone soft yet somehow unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ “why?” you choked out, anger flaring through the grief as your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “why can’t you? they’re my friends, they…” your voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence dissolved into tears.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond, his silence infuriating and devastating all at once. the patience in his expression was unbearable, as though he thought his stillness could soothe the storm inside you.

˚ ༘♡ your cries grew louder, your sobs echoing in the quiet room as you pounded a fist weakly against his chest. “please,” you begged, the word almost unintelligible through your tears. “don’t do this to me. i need to know.”

˚ ༘♡ still, he said nothing. instead, his arms encircled you, pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. his warmth was immediate, his presence solid and unyielding. he rested his chin lightly against your hair, his grip tightening as though he feared you might slip away entirely. “shh,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “i’m here.”

˚ ༘♡ you shoved him away with what strength you had, though it was feeble compared to his hold. “don’t,” you spat, your voice raw with anger and anguish. “don’t comfort me when you’re the reason they’re gone.”

˚ ༘♡ his hands settled firmly on your shoulders, his grip rigid yet careful, as though he feared hurting you but refused to let you slip away. the strength in his touch sent a wave of frustration through you, fueling a final attempt to twist out of his hold. his chest pressed against yours as he pulled you closer, his body a barrier against your escape.

˚ ༘♡ “let me go,” you demanded, your voice shaking with the effort to sound stronger than you felt. but the words wavered, your conviction cracking under the weight of exhaustion that had crept into your limbs.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” he replied, his tone low but resolute, the firmness in his voice more unnerving than anger would have been. “you need me,” he added, quieter now, his words tinged with a gentleness that made your heart clench. “even if you don’t want to admit it.”

˚ ༘♡ your struggles faltered, the tension in your body draining as the fight ebbed away. you sagged against him, your head dropping slightly, your breathing uneven and strained. his embrace shifted, becoming something softer, something that felt almost protective. his arms wrapped around you fully now, holding you close as though shielding you from a world you didn’t even recognize anymore.

˚ ༘♡ the warmth of his breath brushed against your temple, and you froze as his lips pressed softly to your cheek. the kiss wasn’t meant to persuade or plead; it was a silent confession, an unspoken attempt to reach past your anger.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, so quietly you might have thought you imagined it if his voice hadn’t carried the weight of those words so deeply.

˚ ༘♡ your entire body stiffened. the confession hit you harder than you could have anticipated, settling heavily in your chest. the sincerity in his voice wrapped around you, tugging at emotions you didn’t want to feel. your throat tightened painfully, but no words came. they wouldn’t. you couldn’t make yourself respond, couldn’t allow yourself to validate the truth in what he said.

˚ ༘♡ instead, silence fell between you, louder and more damning than anything you could have said aloud. his arms didn’t loosen their hold, his face remaining close to yours, his breath steady against your skin.

˚ ༘♡ then, as if sensing your hesitation wasn’t refusal, he leaned in. his lips met yours with a deliberate slowness, a patience that felt entirely at odds with the world he had dragged you into. the kiss was tender, yet there was an unmistakable urgency in the way he moved, as though he needed you to feel the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to push him away, wanted to scream that he had no right to this moment, no right to you. but your body betrayed you, your lips trembling as they parted against his. the flood of emotions, anger, despair, confusion, and something dangerously close to longing, surged through you all at once, making it impossible to pull away.

˚ ༘♡ when the kiss broke, your breath came in shallow bursts, your heart pounding erratically in your chest. his hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your damp cheeks as his gaze searched yours.

˚ ༘♡ “will you ever let me go?” you asked, the words spilling out before you had a chance to stop them. your voice was fragile, the question carrying all the weight of the fear and longing tangled inside you.

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened, the sharpness of his features dimmed by the flicker of something raw in his eyes. his hands didn’t move, his hold on you steady but not forceful. “i can’t,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. his voice cracked slightly, betraying the struggle beneath his calm exterior. “not in my heart.”

˚ ༘♡ the pang in your chest deepened, and the next question came almost involuntarily, your voice trembling under the strain. “will you keep doing this? will you keep the games going?”

˚ ༘♡ his face darkened, but not in anger. it was a shadow of something more potent, regret, or perhaps inevitability. he lowered his head slightly, his forehead close to brushing yours, his words deliberate and gentle. “yes,” he said, the softness of his tone cutting deeper than any cruelty could have. “i have to. one day, you’ll understand why.”

˚ ༘♡ the finality in his voice was suffocating. you stared at him, your tears still falling as you searched his face for any trace of doubt, for even the smallest crack in his conviction. his gaze remained stable, his eyes holding nothing but certainty, an unshakable belief in a path you couldn’t follow.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was heavy, filled with the unsaid words that hung between you. and as his arms tightened around you again, pulling you close to his chest, you felt the hollowness of his words settle into your own heart. hwang in-ho was a man who loved you, but he was also a man you could never truly understand.

a/n: part five!!! let me know if you have any requests and your thoughts on the story so far!!🤍

[ssahotchnerr]

how do you think Aaron and reader who are married, react to both being called ‘Agent Hotchner’ and they both answer? That’s so cute, I could just imagine Derek smirking and Rossi having a proud dad moment

the hotchners

AHHH I LOVE THAT cw; bau!reader, established relationship, typical cm case talk, playful banter/fluff 🥰

"The unsub is devolving, they’re getting more reckless," Derek thought aloud, clicking his pen in hand. "He dumped the last victim in a public place, rather than the usual, secluded spot."

"They're losing control." You inputted in agreement, your eyes darting across the conference room table to him.

Aaron leaned down on the table, still standing, but with his palms pressed against the surface. He was next to you, and this stance allowed him to be ever so slightly closer. Your heart warmed by his proximity, as any displays of affection were at a minimum when in the field. You were happy he was just close by. "The next victim will probably be someone they can’t control-"

"Agent Hotchner?" A voice came from behind, hindering the conversation.

"Yes?" Both of you answered swiftly, out of habit, though it was a new habit for you. Your tickled eyes met Aaron's, your nose scrunched up slightly in amusement.

Derek grinned, swiveling back and forth in his chair in observance. Rossi raised his hand to his mouth casually, concealing a chuckle.

The voice in question, one of the local police department's officers, even hesitated himself, as if he didn't know which Hotchner he were to rely the information to.

As soon as you and Aaron got engaged, the discussion of whether or not you'd take his last name was on the table. To avoid confusing situations like these, or to prevent any reputable prejudices. It was rare, but every so often you received grimaces from bystanders, both in the field and in the office back home. Marrying your boss? Either tremendously romantic or something to be frowned upon.

But in the end it was unanimous; you wanted his last name, and as did Aaron. It was even more important to him. A symbol of a bond he couldn’t wait to share with you; an acknowledgment of the life you were about to build together. You and him. The Hotchners.

"Uh- sorry to interrupt. The victim's fiancé is here for their interview. They're waiting in interrogation." He stammered, his gaze switching between the two of you.

"Thank you. We'll send someone in shortly." Aaron replied, politely dismissing the officer. He kept his trained demeanor, but you could hear the laughter underneath his voice.

As his footsteps trailed away, you nudged Aaron, humorously bumping your shoulder into his upper arm.

He kept his gaze on the files laid on the table, his lips spread in a soft smile as he slowly shook his head.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Dave." He didn't even need to look up.

"Hey!" Dave commented, his tone light as he spoke. He held up his hands in surrender, but that didn't diminish from the proud gleam in his eyes; it also happened to be the same one he had adorned on your wedding day. "I didn't say a thing."

"Oh, but it's written all over your face." You quipped also, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"Just when I thought the two of you couldn't be any more married." Derek rolled his eyes, playfully as his lips pulled back into a grin. "What's next? Have you mastered the art of the ‘yes honey’ yet, or is that still a work in progress?"

"Please, that was perfected before we got married." Aaron remarked as he relaxed his posture, straightening up. He flashed a smile in your direction, speaking over Morgan's cackle. "Isn't that right, honey?"

[nenemura]

WALLFLOWER — (nrk x reader)

summary : in which you seem to be invisible to everyone, but not to him.

featuring : jungwon and sunoo from enhypen

cw : popular!riki x outcast!fem reader, angst, fluff, kissing

wc : 3.5k

nene’s note : this fic is inspired by twice’s wallflower !! pls reblog and tell me what you think of it !

“y/n? oh, you mean mina’s friend!”

“who’s y/n? the one who hangs out with nayoung and her friends?”

“i’m gonna ask the girl from jules’ class for help”

that’s all you ever were to people. someone’s friend, the one you can ask for help when you can’t figure your homework out. you lived in your friends’ shadows all the time, getting outshined every single day of your life. it was like you were invisible to everyone, as if you were a ghost desperately looking for someone who could see you. but that was never the case.

it’s not like your ‘friends’ paid that much attention to you either, they kept you around because you were kind enough to help them study whenever a big exam was coming. you weren’t oblivious to this treatment, in fact, you knew you didn’t deserve it. but the fear of being completely alone couldn’t let you walk away from them. but that loneliness, that emptiness within you never faded away, not even when you were surrounded by people. you spent most of your time with your nose stuck in a book, studying and studying for hours just to get distracted from those feelings inside you.

you wished someone could see you, get to know you, care about you. but you were sure that if you ever disappeared, no one would notice.

someone would notice, though.

that someone was nishimura riki. golden boy of the school, he was so skilled in every sport that multiple teams fought to have him in their group. he was friendly with everyone, boxy smile always showing whenever he met someone he talked with, even just one time, in the hallways. people absolutely adored him, always seeking his attention. he was everything you dreamed to be.

you didn’t know why, but he always greeted you with a smile whenever you crossed paths with him. you two didn’t even talk once, but he never lost the opportunity to flash you a grin whenever his eyes met yours. he was like that with everyone, you thought, probably because he pitied you. you thought it was a facade, he was popular, after all. he had a reputation to maintain. you disliked him for that reason, maybe it was just envy, but you just couldn’t stand seeing him surrounded by people all the time, while you lived in everyone’s shadow.

the bell rang, indicating the end of biology class. you were following mina and jules out of the classroom, when the teacher called out your name, gesturing you to stay. you turned to tell your two friends that you would stay behind and that you would see them later, but they were laughing between them, not even noticing you weren’t behind them anymore. you pressed your lips in a thin line, unfazed by the behavior since it happened so many times before. yet, it hurt every. single. time.

you pushed those thoughts aside, walking to the teacher who was waiting for you with a big smile. you liked her, she was always kind, always making time for her students whenever they were struggling. and that was exactly the reason why she called you.

“hi, y/n. sorry for keeping you behind, but i’d like to ask you a favor. there’s this student who’s failing biology and i was wondering if you could, perhaps, help them? if they fail it, they won’t be able to participate in next month’s tournament. do you think you could do it?” she explained, her voice soft and sweet as always.

you listen to her words carefully, smiling at her while you accepted her request. you weren’t so thrilled about it, since you knew it wasn’t going to be different from all the times you had ‘helped’ other students. they showed up, pretended to be interested just to make up an excuse and make you do all of their homework for them. but the teacher also promised you an extra credit, so you decided to comply anyway.

she told you to be at the school’s library on tuesdays and thursdays, from 4 to 6, and that she would notify the student for you.

so there you were, sitting at a library table, waiting for this mystery student to show up. it was already half past four, so you assumed that they wouldn’t even show up. you started gathering your things to leave, when you heard someone run behind you. you turned around to see who it was, just to find yourself face to face with nishimura riki. people glared at him while telling him to be silent, causing him to smile apologetically and bowing to them.

“i’m so sorry! practice ran late so i rushed here as fast i could, i’m glad you’re still here! you’re y/n, right? you should be the one helping me with biology” he explained, keeping his voice low to avoid getting scolded again by the students nearby.

on the other hand, you couldn’t believe your eyes. the boy you despised the most was in front of you, big smile as he looked down at you. the fact that he looked so pretty pissed you off even more.

“uh, don’t worry about it.” you simply said, uncomfortably shifting on your seat while he took the one right next to you. you took the book from your backpack and carefully placed it on the table, opening it on the page of the first chapter. you looked over at him for an instant, finding him with his own book open at the same page, waiting for you to say something.

“listen, i know you probably wanna be somewhere else, so i’ll spare you the trouble and bring you the homework done by tomor—” you were cut off by him, a confused expression displayed on his face. “what do you mean? i’m not gonna make you do my homework.” his eyebrows were furrowed, as if you were speaking nonsense. “i’d like some help to understand some of the topics, actually.” he said, his tone was soft, yet it seemed like he was bothered by what you said. did someone treat you like that before?

“oh.” that’s all you could say. you were feeling guilty for assuming his intentions, you were just so used to it.

there was an awkward silence for a brief moment, before riki took the matter into his own hands and started asking you questions about some concepts he hadn’t grasped before. you replied to them calmly, taking your time to repeat yourself or reformulate your sentences if he couldn’t understand them. during the whole time, he never once lost his focus, always looking at you attentively and, from time to time, praising your explanation skills, blabbering about how the book made everything look harder than it actually was.

having his eyes constantly on you made you feel a little overwhelmed, not being used to having so much attention on you. you felt… seen. it was awkward at first, but you couldn’t help but like it.

you reminded yourself that he was just being nice because you were helping him, not because he was actually interested in you.

the little tutoring session came to an end, faster than you thought, so you found yourself gathering your belongings to leave. riki did the same thing, casually greeting some of his friends while he walked with you towards the exit.

it was already dark outside, the days becoming shorter and shorter as the colder seasons approached. before you could excuse yourself to catch the bus, riki spoke. “um, you usually take the 6:30pm bus, right?” he asked, scratching his nape while he looked for your eyes, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. you wondered how he knew which bus you took, but decided to not mull over it too much. you nodded, tilting your head to the side as if you were asking where he was trying to get at with his question. “it’s still early, i can’t leave you here, alone in the dark. do you mind if i wait with you?” saying that you were surprised by those words was an understatement. you could feel warmth creeping up your neck, you never really spent time with boys outside of tutoring, let alone spoke to them for this long. “uh.. sure” you replied, your voice low and timid. you think you will never forget the smile riki gave you that night.

you walked around with him, listening to him complain about how his coach threatened him to not let him play at the tournament if he didn’t pass biology, and how glad he was you were there to help him. he also asked you lots of question, such as your favorite subjects, what you did in your free time, whether you put cereals first and then milk or vice versa. and it wasn’t just to avoid awkward silence, he truly cared about your answers, even going on a long rant about how putting cereals after milk was nonsense and how inconvenient it was.

before you could realize, it was already time for you to catch the bus. he walked you to the stop and waited for you to get safely on the bus, waving his hand while grinning widely at you. he didn’t leave until he saw the bus driving away, which made you feel like he cared about your safety, but you convinced yourself you were overthinking it.

once in your bed, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the afternoon you spent with the boy you disliked so much — in vain, you thought — and how your heart started beating slightly faster when you got a message from him asking if you got home safely. you mentally slapped yourself, you couldn’t start to have feelings for a boy who was pitying you. still, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his stupid jokes and silly behavior, the memory of his laugh lulling you to sleep.

the next day, you were sitting alone at the cafeteria since your friends collectively decided to skip school without letting you know. you were used to it anyway, it’s not like you talked to them when you were in their company, you just limited yourself to listening to them brag about whoever they were dating at that moment or about some new gossip that was circulating around, while keeping to yourself.

that’s why you were startled when riki showed up with two of his friends, who you recognised to be sunoo and jungwon. they were also pretty popular, sunoo being a social butterfly and jungwon being part of the student council.

“mind if we sit here?” riki asked with his usual smile, waiting for you to agree before eventually sitting next to you, while the other two guys sat in front of you. you were still kind of taken aback from this situation, but you were snapped out of your thoughts by riki resting his hand on your shoulder.

“this is y/n! y/n, they’re sunoo and jungwon. they’re good guys, so feel free to be yourself around them” he explained, introducing you to his friends. you wanted to focus on the two boys sitting in front of you and politely greet them, but you could only feel riki’s hand on you, making your heart pound against your ribs.

“nice to meet you! — sunoo spoke, his voice lively and sweet — so you’re the famous y/n, huh? riki talks about you a lo—” he suddenly stopped, an ‘ouch’ escaping his lips as he massaged his leg. riki immediately grabbed your attention: “what he was saying is that i told them you were tutoring me and how well you explain things!” you missed the way he shot sunoo a glare before grinning at you.

jungwon, in the meantime, was snickering while eating his lunch, throwing a playful glance at riki with a smirk on his lips.

you weren’t exactly understanding what was happening, given that you were still confused by the sudden company and the fact that riki talked about you to his friends. it was probably because you could help them in the future, wasn’t it?

you had a great time during lunch, sunoo excitedly telling you about the new drama play he would star in next month and jungwon occasionally asking you questions about you. the awkwardness in you faded the more you spent time with the boys, breaking out of your shell and telling them stories of your childhood. riki was looking at you with a fond smile the entire time, head resting on his fist, thinking how nice was watching you finally open up and get along with his friends.

time flew once again, the bell that signaled the end of lunch break ringing in the cafeteria. you had learned to have a lesson in the classroom right next to sunoo’s, so you waved bye to riki and jungwon and made your way to class with the bubbly boy.

you had never felt this good before, it felt like a weight was lifted off your chest, loneliness being replaced by a nice feeling. this is what having someone caring about you meant? you wondered how you endured being alone until then, finally knowing what it felt to be seen.

you spent the whole time, thinking about the boy you were tutoring, catching yourself dumbly smiling at the thought of him. you needed a reality check, because in no way he was going to feel the same about you. so, with a sigh, you drifted your thoughts from riki to the teacher and his lesson.

weeks passed, your study dates with riki allowed you to become closer and closer to the boy. you started opening up more, laughing and making jokes with him, telling him about embarrassing moments from middle school and so on. you started seeing him outside of tutoring sessions as well, inviting you to have lunch with him, sunoo and jungwon more often, asking you to try a new cafe that opened in town with them.

you eventually fell for him, feeling nervous every time he stood too close to you or blushing when you caught him staring at you. you knew it was one sided, trying your hardest to not delude yourself and end up with a broken heart and alone all over again. you cherished his company more than anything in the world, so you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

you were walking to your locker when you heard your name being shouted by a voice you recognized in no time. you turned around, finding riki standing in front of you with a paper in his hand, encouraging you to take it. you looked at it and saw a 75/100 on his biology test. your eyes widened as much as your smile, looking up at him. “oh my god, riki! you passed!” you said, genuinely happy for the boy in front of you. he worked hard and definitely deserved the grade, you also felt a little proud of yourself at the same time. “yes! it’s all thanks to you!” he engulfed you in his arms, holding you close to his body for a second longer than he should. your face was completely red once he let go of you, you prayed for him to be too excited to notice how that brief — even though for you seemed like it lasted for hours — contact affected you.

“so..” you started speaking, to recompose yourself. “no more tutoring sessions, huh?” you asked, disappointment could be easily found in your tone.

“hm.. about that.” riki said, looking a little nervous for some reasons you couldn’t quite tell. “are you going to prom, this weekend?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes while he looked down at you.

“no, i don’t think so.” you replied almost instantly. was he going to ask you out for prom? no, impossible.

“would you like t—” he couldn’t finish his sentence, that a girl tapped him on his shoulder, completely ignoring your presence or the fact that he was talking to you.

“hi riki.. i was wondering if you.. if you wanted to go to prom with me.” she asked, her pretty, long lashes batting quickly as she smiled at him, waiting for his answer.

“oh, thank you but i was going to ask someone else to go with me,” riki politely declined, obtaining a scoff in response. he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to where you were standing, only to see that you had disappeared.

you left the moment you heard the girl’s question, tears brimming in your eyes as you felt like a fool, thinking that he could ever have feelings for you. that day, you left school early, running to your house and shutting yourself in your room. you cried every tear you had within yourself.

riki had tried to reach out to you countless times, sending you lots of texts, even calling you endless times. but you ignored every one of them. you shouldn’t have gotten closer to the boy, you shouldn’t have fallen for him and you shouldn’t have hoped that he could, somehow, feel the same towards you.

it was prom night, you were on your couch, watching some old romcom filled with cliches and cringy lines, but that made you tear up everytime nonetheless.

suddenly, you heard a knock on your door. you wondered who could possibly be at that hour of a saturday night.

you opened the door, finding riki in formal attire, hair slicked back and a huge bouquet of purple flowers — which you remembered telling him was your favorite color.

“riki?” you called softly, closing the door behind you and looking at him with a confused expression. your heart skipped a beat when you saw him — he looked absolutely gorgeous, he looked like he’d stepped out a fairy tail.

“y/n..” he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nerves and determination. “i tried contacting you, but you weren’t replying. i wanted to ask you to prom, but since it’s too late, i thought about bringing prom to you.” a shy smile tugged at his full lips as he pronounced those words.

you stared at him, speechless. he wanted to go to prom with you? and when he couldn’t reach you, he came all the way to your house, just to make it happen? it felt like a dream, too good and too sweet to be true.

noticing your surprise, riki carefully set the bouquet on the ground. then, he took your hand in his, warmth spreading all over your face.

“dance with me,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with hope.

without waiting for your reply, he led you closer to him, his free hand settling on your waist, while with his other hand, he fumbled awkwardly with his phone, tongue poking out as he tried to play a slow song for you two to dance to.

the sight made you giggle, finding endearing how clumsy he was.

you looped your arms around his neck, gazing up at him as you swayed together. the world seemed to fall away — there was only the two of you, the soft music, and the steady rhythm of your movements.

he held your gaze the entire time, his lovesick smile resting on his pretty lips — the ones you couldn’t help but glance at more times than you cared to admit.

as the song came to an end, the world seemed to slow down around the two of you. he rested his forehead gently against yours, his warm breath fanning across your face as he took both of your hands in his, holding them like they were going to break if he applied to much force.

“y/n..” he began, his voice soft and steady, though you could sense the nervousness beneath it. “i like you. i’ve liked you for so long, i couldn’t resist keeping it to myself anymore.” he whispered, waiting for any reaction on your part.

tears welled up in your eyes and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. riki stiffened for a moment, his hand lingering on your back before holding you closer.

“i like you too, riki. so much, i can’t believe you actually feel the same” a soft laugh escaped his lips, filled with relief and happiness. he brought one of his hands to your cheek, delicately caressing your skin. “can i be your boyfriend, then?” he asked, his lips curling up into a shy smile as he bit down his lower lip to keep it from spreading too much.

you didn’t answer his question with words. instead, you leaned in, catching his lips in a passionate yet slow kiss. his hand on your cheek moved down to your neck, while his other hand rested on your waist.

at that moment, it felt as if you were touching the sky with a finger. you felt loved in a way that warmed every layer of your heart, cared for in a way that melted every lingering doubt. but, most importantly, you felt seen — truly seen — for the first time.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[angellic4l]

la vita è bella - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader and season2!spencer see a foreign film together after work.

content: fem!reader and season2!spencer, they’re so in loveee, fluffy fluff, mentions of drinking but no one actually does it, brief mention of spencer’s germaphobia, mention of the holocaust and ww2.

a/n: i wrote this all in one go bc my draft that i’m working on is so not ready, so i apologise if it’s bad. also, la vita é bella means life is beautiful, the Italian name of the film, which is why i called the fic that. WAIT I JUST READ IT AND I NEED TO SAY I DON’T THINK ELLE IS MEAN I LOVE ELLE! anyway, kisses!!

After a pretty rare, uneventful day at the BAU - just hours of paperwork, filing, reports, and a lot of team banter - the team of profilers begin to pack up. Coats are lifted from the backs of chairs, bags slung over shoulders, chairs put under desks, and a chorus of contented sighs coming from the agents.

The team, bar Hotch and Gideon, begin to make their way to the elevator together, walking in a huddle on their way out of work while making light conversation about their plans, considering everyone’s getting out early today.

“I say we all go the bar, a few drinks, maybe some darts, and lots of fine women,” Morgan suggests with a smirk, patting Spencer on the back when he says ‘fine women’.

Elle and JJ laugh, the thought of Spencer trying to talk to ‘fine women’, as Morgan called them, an amusing thought to the two of them.

Spencer, who’s walking in between you and Morgan, pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger, his face sporting one of his infamous looks you’ve come to know, his brows furrowed as he silently questions Elle and JJ’s laughter.

“Actually, I was going to go and see a foreign film downtown, if any of you want to come. It’s an Italian film, but I can whisper translate, called ‘Life is Beautiful’, which is kind of ironic because it’s about a Jewish man and his son becoming victims of the holocaust, but-“ Spencer’s cut off by a comment from Elle about him being ‘dorky’, his face loses the small smile he’d had while talking about the film, and his once gesturing hands fall to his sides.

You think your heart might’ve actually shattered at the sight, Spencer’s dejected look never becoming easier to see, no matter how many times you do see it. The other three agents agree to go to the bar together while you and Spencer remain silent, walking in step with each other.

“You coming, sunshine?” Morgan asks, looking past Spencer to gaze at your face, Elle and JJ turning their heads slightly to look at you stood behind them, all of you coming to a stop at the elevator doors.

“No, I think I just want to have a quiet night in. I hope you guys have fun, though,” you reject them, a small smile on your face because only you know what you’re actually going to do.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

All of you step out of the FBI building, JJ, Morgan, and Elle splitting off to head to the bar, Spencer walking through the parking lot and starting his journey to the metro station, while you wait for the other 3 to be gone.

It’s not because you’re embarrassed of Spencer, no, you wouldn’t have cared about offering in front of the others, but you knew he’d probably be teased for it, and that’s the last thing you want. He’s so sweet to everyone, unbelievably kind to you, but everyone teases him regardless. It hurts your heart every time he goes quiet after being told to ‘shut up’ or someone comments on his rambling.

Once you’re sure Morgan, JJ, nor Elle are in earshot, you hurry over to Spencer’s slender figure that’s slowly dissipating, emerging with the dark night sky, becoming nothing but a shadow as he gets further.

“Spence! Wait, come back!” You call out, quickly realising his long limbs are no match for you and he was getting further by the second.

Spencer stops almost immediately, spinning on his heels when he hears your voice. He could recognise it anywhere, your sweet, melodic voice engrained into his brain; it’s one of his favourite things about you, how each word you speak seems to be infused with honey, ringing out sweet and soft.

Although, even if your voice is sweet and soft, despite the fact that you’re shouting, adrenaline spikes in his body - Why are you shouting him? Are you hurt? Are you okay? - the questions plague his mind, increasing his heart rate faster than anything ever has before. That’s saying something, considering he sees dead bodies, crime scenes, and confronts serial killers almost weekly.

Spencer’s legs have carried himself over to you before he’d even processed it, his own mind had distracted him, thoughts had clouded his head, and he only realises he’s stood in front of you and that you’re okay when he hears your melodic voice again.

“Spence? Spencer? Are you okay?” You ask, brows furrowed ever so slightly and pink lips pouted to express your concern for the brunette boy.

You didn’t ask him to ‘snap out of it’, make a joke about him being stuck in his big brain, or say ‘are you even listening?’. No, you just asked if he was okay. Spencer smiles softly at that, another gentle reminder that you really are an angel personified, despite his agnostic beliefs, regardless of whether he prays to a God or not, you are angelic to him.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay,” Spencer reassures you, the soft smile on his face still there as he looks down at you. His brain catches up after he stops being dazed by your seemingly divine presence, in his opinion.

“You called me over, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Could I come and see that movie with you? I know some Italian and you said you’d whisper translate.”

Standing in the middle of Quantico’s parking lot, the pair of you clad in thick coats due to the recent spike in cold weather, your head tilted back so that you can look up at Spencer and his tilted down so that he can see you. You watch Spencer’s face go from a small smile to a full blown grin, his teeth peaking out from behind his pink lips making your heart warm in your chest, winter weather aside.

“Yeah? You’re serious?” Spencer asks, you nod.

“I’ll drive us there, no need for the metro. I’ll take you home, too,” you say, dangling your keys on your ring finger. The pair of you begin to walk to your car as Spencer explains what the movie is about, not being cut off this time.

In the car on the way there, he starts to talk about WW2, rattling off all of the details he knows about it, mainly ones he thinks will be relevant for context to the film. Smiles rest on both of your faces as he does so, his hands moving frenetically as he talks. When you know what he’s talking about, you’ll wait for him to finish before talking yourself, but mostly, you just listen to him.

Spencer stays true to his word and whisper translates the film to you, his voice in your ear something you like much more than you probably should, close proximity between the two of you because of it. His head is tilted towards you, lips by your ear but not so close that all you hear is his breath, Spencer’s very mindful of that.

At some point, you both reach for the popcorn between you without looking, his hand coming to rest on top of yours in the bucket. Suddenly, you’re very thankful for the dark room hiding the pink tint of your cheeks, completely unaware that he’s thinking the same thing.

Retracting his hand from the bucket quickly, he whispers a small “sorry,” secretly hating the loss of contact with your smooth, silky skin, warm fingers, no longer under his.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you for fear of him seeing the blush that’s painted your cheeks. You reach into your bag and hand him a hand sanitiser, knowing how he is with germs.

Spencer can’t help but wonder if you carry this just for him as he takes the clear bottle from his hands, reading the label as best as he can in the dim theatre and learning the hand sanitiser smells like vanilla. So do you, he notes, and he decides he doesn’t mind his hands smelling like you, in fact, he actually quite likes it.

An hour into the film, despite your best efforts not to, you succumb to sleep, the sound of Spencer’s voice in your ear every few seconds, the dim room, and how warm you are all lulling you into the unconscious state you currently find yourself in. Well, Spencer finds you in that state when your head drops to his shoulder, looking down at you through his glasses, and realising you’d fallen asleep.

He blushes at the sight of your head on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding him and sending him to some extreme height at the same time, your hair splayed over his shoulder making him smile to himself. In this moment, he decides that, despite all of the horrors he sees daily, the trauma he was subjected to growing up, and everything else in between, life is beautiful.

[pinkhoodi]

saddle up !

✎ᝰ — dc boys as cowboys

♡⃕ — dick grayson, jason todd, wally west x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff & me not tryna go crazy with jason….

♡⃕ — a/n: the entire time I’ve wrote this, I’ve been thinking about cowboy wally with a sleeper build 😵‍💫. its 4 am and I wanna see wally in a fitted white shirt….

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ COWBOY DICK GRAYSON COWBOY DICK GRAYSON COWBOY DICK GRAYSON- my bad…imma calm down

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who has the girls swooning at his lil accent. his accent is the lightest out of all three boys, think of something mixed with texas with a very light midwest accent. however, it is heavier when he says certain words or when he becomes angry and raises his voice

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who has jet black strands blowing as he pushes them away from his face. his hair that glide against his shoulders as he takes off his cowboy hat. the slight curly strands blow into the wind, having him look like something out of a novella. it doesn’t help that he has it shaped somewhat in a mullet cause he thinks long hair and mullet catches women the most and he’s not wrong

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who is built so so beautifully, you would’ve thought he descended from heaven itself. he stands at 5’10, has broad shoulders with biceps that he flexes without even trying, dark-ish, but noticeable, blue eyes that also have the girls swooning his way. loves to get tattoos left and right, every other month he’s at the parlor getting another tattoo…fien

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who keeps his looks up mostly for the women. I’m not joking, he thrives on the attention of women, and he can never get enough of it. he never denies a photo opp, an autograph, anything his fan girls want, he’ll give them. soemtime’s he’ll give them a lil somethin extra ;)

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who, at competitions, sometimes goes shirtless at a competition. if it’s a competition where he gets down and dirty, or in his heart, it’s a serious one and requires more focus, he’ll take his shirt off. one, it signals his fans that this competition is not to be played with, and two, it feeds his ego when girls are going crazy. let’s not be shocked, it’s grayson

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who brings his voice to a deeper octave and laces his voice with a deeper tone to his voice when he says your name. he delights in the way your name rolls off his tongue, it’s something so alluring, something that he wanna says 24/7, and he has, he can’t help it

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who likes to add a lil bling to what he wears. he likes to rock a new necklace, some iced out chains, a nice watch from those luxury brands that are hard to pronounce, he likes flaunting his wealth soemtimes. he doesn’t do it often, but he does, he keeps it subtle

Ꮺ cowboy!dick grayson who, on his off days from competiton, he’s a model. his pretty boy face has landed him on the cover of many commercials, magazines, and numerous amounts of ads for men's cologne, his favortie thing to model for

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who does not play anyyyy games when it comes to his competitions, he knows what he has to do and he is only determined to do just as he is needed. he’s not really into fanservice, however, he won’t turn a good time for a fangirl

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who has the thickest accent out of all three !!! I’ve said this multiple times but jason’s accent is sooooooo thick and you can tell he’s a native from his vocabulary. also, he differentiates how he talks to women and men; no matter who you are, he talks to women with more politeness and respect than he does around men. especially with older women, he’ll keep all his cursing to a minimum, out of respectability ofc

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who is the biggest and strongest out of the three. though, he and wally are the same height, he is much bulkier than wally. everything about him is enormous, and I mean enormous, starting from his biceps that flex when he’s working in his shop to his quads that sometimes poke in his jeans. his chest that has a lining whenever he wears casual clothing or pokes through when he leaves a few buttons unbottoned

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who has a bit of a mustache, a few tattoos, and a couple piercings. he once studied tattoos before getting his first and learned the best placements for each tattoo he owns. he has a lot of niche ones, a couple of typical cowboy ones, and one on his lower leg

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd, in his free time from competitions, he’s busy working on cars. he’s had a knack for fixing stuff, especially cars, since his teen years. the town usually comes to jason for any of their technical issues, it came to the point where he opened up his shop for it. though, please don’t expect to find him on competiton days cause he won’t be there

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who doesn’t flirt as often as wally and grayson, but when he does, it’ll make you melttt. he knows his way around having someone gushing over what he says, going back and forth with flirtatious comments that’ll have you on your toes, use his accent to his advantage, he knows how to play it well when it comes to flirting

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who is bilingual and can sometimes throw in a spanish accent when he flirts. not textbook spanish, but more so original spanish from places like argentina or puerto rico. though, I do like to think he has more puerto rican spanish instilled in him than other variations of the spanish language (shoutout to my twin kai)

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who would spend money on you more than often. but one of his favorite things that he gifted you was a beautiful jewelry set for you and your initials stitched onto his boots for himself

Ꮺ cowboy!jason todd who always saves his money for a new truck, one of his greatest prized possessions. every few years he would get his truck replaced or modify it to his liking, whether it be a new paint job or a new motor

꒰ WALLY WEST ꒱

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who is extremely sweet to any and everyone. while, his best friend’s brother, jason, can be a brute and grayson can be found flirting with the women surrounding him, wally helps around the town. he can be found helping with the local farmer’s market, holding tutoring sessions, participating at the senior living, you name it, wally has probably done it

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who’s usually deemed as being the smallest out of all three. though, that might be the case when he walks around town, he sports a white tank and baggy jeans, showing off his sleeper build. he’s known for having an extreme amount of endurance and he would like to keep it up, so he works out and it has given him greater results than he could think of

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who keeps his appearance more bare than the other two, but he does enjoy sporting some extremely fine jewlery like a nice snake chain or a ring band. his facial features stands out more than his physique, the green eyes that are soft when first meeting you, the freckles that spread around his face, his pearly white teeth that he uses to charm others ;p

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west whose accent is laced with such refinement, his vernacular isn’t as country as dick and jason. his vocabulary can be said to have elegance, poise, some might say higher class as well

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who tends to have a bit of cockiness when it comes to his competitons. his time with competiton may not have been as long as the other two, but it still isn’t stopping him from making the top five in the rankings

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who can usually be found kissing a girl in the back of his truck. though, he can talk with elegance, he can also speak with enough eloquence that’ll have almost everyone agree to a fun time

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who is keep’s your safety as his top priority !! especially, around the arenas when he knows you can get easily, he’ll hold your waist and walk with you

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who has a great amount of polaroid pictures of all his loved ones. some in his wallet, plenty placed around his room, and a picture of him and you hanging from his rearview mirror

Ꮺ cowboy!wally west who likes to have his passenger side decorated to your liking of course. though, it’s his truck, who is he not make space for his lover ? whether it’s getting a cute hello kitty bobblehead for your side, a small compartment for your bag, or seat covers that match his and your aesthetics. ask and he will go great lengths to accomodate to it

♡⃕ COWBOY DICK COWBOY JASON COWBOY WALLY. I NEEEEEEEEED, NOT A WANT A NEEEEED

♡⃕ if yall want a pt 2, lemme know. I’m stuck on this concept and im scared I might get fixated

♡⃕ if yall have hcs for them as well, pleaeeeee slide. I wanna hear them ALLLLLL 😩

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: luke 6:27

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟧 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[reidphobic]

crashing into him tonight (he’s a paradox) - s. r.

in which your lessons continue, and you want to be more than spencer’s teacher. 4004 words. part two to the neighbor!au.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, jealousy, mommy kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, praise, very very mild degradation, brief cumplay? i guess? no use of y/n, reader is still super condescending but it’s still hot

It starts to become a routine for Spencer to knock on your door late at night, wearing a nervous smile and offering a quiet plea for another lesson. It’s not every night he’s home, but it’s enough that you start to notice his absence after a couple of days. You try not to read too far into it, remind yourself that the two of you just have fun, that Spencer is just your little plaything, and it doesn’t matter if he’s away somewhere using tricks you taught him on other women. And, besides, you’re hardly celibate yourself.

But after three nights of silence, you hear something so unfamiliar you almost don’t recognise it at first. A second voice in Spencer’s apartment — in his bedroom. You can’t quite make out any words, but you can tell exactly what’s happening, low murmurs giving way to soft moans, the shape of his name reaching your ear in a high, pitchy, voice. You scowl, huff. You know Spencer knows the walls are paper-thin. Has he even noticed that you haven’t brought anyone home when he’s there since you started sleeping together?

You lie awake, listening, until you can’t take the hurt any longer. You storm out of your apartment, drown the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach in cheap, sour liquor. It’s not long before you’re leaving the bar again, head spinning, and back in your apartment with a willing body between your thighs. The guy — whose name you’ve already forgotten — is perfectly eager, all the right words, praises, moans as he touches you. His kiss is perfect on paper, just enough tongue and teeth and wandering hands, and you moan and stretch and purr when he fucks into you.

But it’s still all wrong. There’s too much of him; square shoulders and broad chest where you crave a slim, slight body. He praises where you want pleas, calls you baby instead of Mommy. The prospect of waking up to him in your bed makes your skin crawl, and you bundle the guy out of the door practically before he’s finished cumming. Sobered up and unpleasantly sticky, you stumble into the shower and try to scrub off the night’s sins. It doesn’t feel like it works.

Trying not to think about Spencer doesn’t work either. It doesn’t work as you toss and turn in bed, or when you’re getting ready for work, not even while your shift drags on and on and your mind is filled with a billion other things. You can half-feel the ghost of his presence, his favourite of your mugs undrank-from on the counter, one of his ties slung across a dining chair, a book he’d thought you might like resting on your coffee table.

It’s worse that he’s gone for so long — he’s been away on a case for ten days, and your lasting memory is the noise of him fucking someone else. The sound is still rattling dimly around your head as you stare aimlessly at the TV, your whole body sore after a long, late shift, when there’s a knock at your door. Unthinking, you open it, expecting your food delivery guy and instead coming face to face with Spencer.

You’re half-convinced you’ve fallen asleep, that he’s a cruel trick of your subconscious, and it must show on your face because Spencer’s face screws up in concern as he speaks. “Hi,” he murmurs. He’s disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him, bleary-eyed and shirt untucked, like he’s been sleeping in his clothes. “I, uh. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came straight here, which sounds kind of stupid, ‘cause I live here, too, but, uh… I haven’t been inside my apartment yet.” You keep your face cool, impassive. “What… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I missed you.” Never mind that he fucked someone else the night before he left.

“Is that all?” you say, folding your arms across your chest. His face crumples, and you feel guilty all over again.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, innocent and forlorn, and, God, you just want to sink your teeth into him right then and there.

But if you bite too hard, he’ll bleed. “I don’t know, Spencer. Did you? Or did you have fun?” you snap. “Did you use what I taught you?” The words taste bitter as they spill free, but you can’t swallow them back down. Spencer’s mouth opens and closes, but he stays silent. “Or, what, she wasn’t happy with you? You after one last practice run before you give the real thing another shot?”

“I… What?” He pauses. “This is because I… slept with someone else?”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. That 187 IQ really works wonders for you, huh?” You move to shut the door in his face, but he blocks you deftly, steps past you into your apartment so quickly you barely realise what happened. Right. FBI agent.

Spencer crosses the room, sits down at your dining table, motions for you to do the same. Your feet carry you into the chair without your permission. “So, you’re angry with me for sleeping with another girl, despite never communicating or agreeing on any kind of exclusivity. After… this.” He gestures vaguely to the space between you. “All started because I don’t know what I’m doing and you wanted to teach me?”

You sigh, turn his words over in your head. When he puts it that way, you sound ridiculous. And his saying I don’t know what I’m doing isn’t lost on you either. “I don’t think I knew, honey. I thought, this is just fun, just friends helping friends. And then I heard you, and I got so… possessive, I guess. And I couldn’t talk to you, because you were gone, so I just got more and more bitter.”

Reaching a hand across the table, Spencer gives you a tentative glance before taking hold of yours, running his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. “So, that night, the guy you were with, that was…”

“Fucking awful,” you joke, but he just looks concerned, doesn’t pick up on it. “No, it was… retaliation. God, that’s so embarrassing. The sex was fine, but he wasn’t you, honey.” At that, he finally smiles, and you feel it warm you from the inside out.

“And that’s what you want?” He licks his lips, touches his hair. His particular brand of skittish nervousness looks so good on him that it’s almost unfair. “Me?”

The disbelieving look on his face, frankly, is criminal. “Spencer, sweetheart, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted more.” Your chairs scrape against the floor as you scramble up, grab at him everywhere you can reach, crash your lips into his. It’s sweet, soft, and you fight to hold your hunger at bay, trace his lips with gentle affection.

You work your way through the room, bumping into every possible piece of furniture and giggling into Spencer’s open mouth until you land on the couch in his lap. “This is familiar,” he says, smirking a little. Grabbing his jaw, you scowl playfully, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down, find him deliciously eager under you. “It’s so cute how hard you get just from making out, sweetheart. So needy, baby.” You lean down, kiss his neck, suck a bruise into his soft skin. “What’d you think about?”

“Huh?” he murmurs, eyes glossy and lips swollen, wearing a pretty, dazed face. He’s oh-so gorgeous when you’ve kissed all the thoughts out of his head, operating on pure impulse, uninhibited.

Your fingers creep up to loosen his tie. “You said I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What were you thinking about?” You pull his tie off, untuck his shirt, start working on his buttons. “Was it dirty? Details, honey, c’mon.”

Spencer smiles up at you, angelic. “Not all of it,” he says, tracing delicate little patterns across the small of your back. “Thought about kissing you. A lot. About you laying in my lap, and we’re supposed to be watching a movie, but I’m just looking at you.” Your chest clenches. “How you listen when I talk… I don’t— People think I can’t tell, if they just nod in the right places, but I know.”

“Spencer, honey,” you say softly, kissing and nipping gently at his chest as you unbutton his shirt, exposing inches of silken skin with each movement. “God, you’re perfect.” You sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Spencer brings his hand up to pet your hair, blunt nails scratching soothingly over your scalp.

“But… I, uh. That’s not all I thought about.” He’s nervous, now, the embarrassment that always comes when he wants to voice his desires; you’ve been trying to train it out of him, but it’s achingly slow going.

You smile encouragingly, kissing at his chest and gazing up at him with your best fuck-me eyes. “S’alright, baby. Tell Mommy, okay?”

“Thought about you on top of me. Your pretty… How pretty you look up there.”

You grin wickedly. “My tits, is that what you mean to say? You love your Mommy’s tits, don’t you, honey?” Spencer nods, head falling forward to bury his face in your chest. You let him hide for a moment, collect himself, before you nudge him to speak again.

Spencer’s eyes are glossy, his mouth red and bruised. He looks so sweet, your pretty, pliant little toy, perfectly ready for you to sink your claws into. “Mhmm. Love your tits, Mommy. Thought about you touching me, n’when you’re all mean and you don’t touch me.” He pouts, just a little, and you can’t resist shifting your hips and dragging a thumb across his swollen bottom lip.

“You like it when I’m mean, sweetheart?” He nods, dazed. “You want me to be a little meaner?” Spencer freezes under you, suddenly seeming tense and afraid. Damn. And you’d just gotten him to relax. You stroke his face with the back of your hand to soothe him. “You can say no, honey, it’s okay, I won’t be mad. Just wanna find out what makes you feel good, alright, pretty?”

“No, I… I want it. But just a little. Please.”

“Yeah, honey, that’s alright. But you gotta tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?” Spencer nods, and you raise an eyebrow. “Words, baby.”

It seems to take him a minute to find the words, spit-slick lips parted as he stares at you with lust-blown eyes. “Yes, Mommy. I will. I’ll tell you.”

You grind your hips down in reward, let Spencer roll his up to meet you. Pressing your lips to his, you swallow his whimper. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he beams. “Love it when you get all dumb like this. S’good for you, honey, not to be the clever one all the time.” You pull off his shirt, slide off his lap to admire him from a distance. Before he can whine at the loss, you cut him off. “Did you touch yourself?” Spencer tilts his head. “Sweetheart, did you masturbate thinking about me?”

Spencer’s mouth drops in a soft ‘o’ of understanding, cheeks flushing ruby-woo red. “Yes,” he admits, avoiding your gaze until you force his eyes back to you.

“God, you really are just clueless, huh? C’mon, show Mommy, baby. Show me how you touch yourself.” Spencer blinks dumbly. God, he must be worse off than you thought. “Spencer, honey, I know you jerk off. I heard you every damn night. S’what made me decide I had to get you all to myself.”

At that, the corner of his lip quirks. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was smirking at you. “Is that why you had a box of lingerie delivered to my apartment?” It’s your turn to be speechless. “Profiler,” he adds with a shrug.

“Alright, smartass. It worked, didn’t it?” you scoff. “And stop distracting me.” You set to work on what’s left of his clothes, unbuttoning his pants and palming his cock through his boxers. “Do you take off all your clothes first? Or do you keep ‘em on, make a mess of yourself?”

“No, I… I take them off,” he says. You raise an eyebrow as if to say go on. “Oh, y- you want me to..? Oh, o-okay.” With shaking hands, he slips out of his pants, then his boxers, stained with precum; the evidence of his desire has you practically drooling. His pretty dick springs free, thuds sickly against his stomach with a wet smack.

You can’t help the pulse of arousal that throbs through you at the sight of him. “Good boys don’t keep Mommy waiting, Spencer,” you chide, careful to avoid touching him. It’s clear how acutely he feels the lack of a pet name, the implication of your words, and he babbles out an apology.

Eagerly, you watch Spencer curl his hand around his cock, but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s hard— Don’t,” he interrupts himself when you smirk. “It’s difficult… with you watching me like this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon. “You like to think about my tits, right?” You pull off your shirt, flick it across the room. As if magnetised, Spencer’s eyes fall to your chest as you grab your tits, roll a nipple between two fingers. “There you go, honey. S’just you and your fantasy, okay? Now show me what you do when you think of me, okay?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, takes a steadying breath. He’s endlessly fascinating; he’ll stare down killers without so much as flinching, but a willing girl with her boobs out is just too much for him. Slowly, he starts to pump his cock, spreading precum down his length. You watch him speed up until he’s jacking himself furiously, hand flying along his dick so hard and fast he must be giving himself friction burn. He bites down on his lower lip, whimpers through his teeth, the sound familiar and erotic. “Mommy,” he whines, high and breathy, hips jerking up into his hand. You can’t watch this much longer.

Placing a palm on his thigh to still him, you slowly cover his hand with your free one. “Honey, is that how you get yourself off?” Brow scrunched in confusion, he nods. God, the poor boy is hopeless. “And that feels good?”

“It makes me orgasm quickly,” Spencer answers, as if that’s remotely the same thing. “I- I have trouble sleeping, and an orgasm releases endorphins that relax both the mind and the body. It helps,” he says placidly.

You nod slowly. “And when you make yourself come like that, does that feel the same as when I make you come?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t, right? It feels better when I do it?”

“So much,” he breathes. “You’re so much better.”

You smile indulgently down at him. “Oh, honey. That’s because you’re doing it all wrong,” you say, syrupy and condescending. “When you get off, it makes you feel better, right? Yeah. And you’re so focused on that, you forget to make yourself feel good. That genius mind of yours’d be blown finding out how long I could spend getting myself off.” You pat his cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.

A punched-out whimper slips from his lips, the sound falling straight between your legs. “What am I doing wrong?” Spencer asks, low and feeble.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s gonna show you, okay?” He nods eagerly. Sure, you’ve jerked him off before, but this feels different. You’re not just giving him pleasure, you’re showing him how to take it for himself. “Show me again, but slow, okay?” Obediently, Spencer curls his hand again, pumps his cock. “See, honey, feel that drag? Hurts, right? And not in the good way,” you add with a grin, and Spencer gulps. A slightly wicked idea crosses your mind. “We’re gonna go to bed now, okay?”

Like a lost little puppy, Spencer trails after you, joins you on the bed. You let him kiss you again, until his whines get too needy and his hips start to twitch. “Will you open that top drawer for me, sweetheart? Got something in there that’ll help you, okay?” Obediently, he rolls over, tugs the drawer open. You study his face carefully, watch his jaw go slack as he realises what you’re showing him. Your collection of sex toys stares up at him, and he gapes like a fucking fish. An adorable fish, but a fish all the same.

“What do you… you want me to..?” he says, still staring like he couldn’t possibly compute what you’re asking of him.

You laugh, only a little meanly. “Don’t worry, honey,” you say, padding around the bed to help him out. “You’re not ready for that stuff. Not yet, anyway. You’re such a good boy for Mommy, Spencer, such a quick learner. Pretty soon I’ll have you begging for ‘em. But not tonight, alright?” You lean down to pluck a small plastic bottle from the drawer. “This is all we need tonight. Do you know what that is, baby?”

Squinting his eyes, Spencer inspects the bottle. “Lubricant?” he says, mouth forming the word into a question.

“Such a clever boy,” you croon, settling yourself between his legs and taking his hand. You turn it palm up and squint a generous amount of lube into Spencer’s hand. “Spread that on your pretty dick for me, okay, baby?” The slick sound of it fills your ears, pulses in your cunt, and you can see on his face how much better he feels even from a scant touch. Eyes fluttering shut, he groans, but waits obediently for another instruction. “That’s it. That’s Mommy’s good boy, huh? Alright, honey. Now stroke yourself for me. You wanna start nice and slow, okay?”

You’re transfixed as he begins to touch himself, cock wet and glistening as it disappears into his fist. Lube drips out across his fingers, slick noises filling your room. “Feels so good, Mommy,” he whimpers, free hand fisting in your sheets.

“Oh, honey, I know,” you murmur, sitting up and sliding your hand into your panties. You moan as you brush your clit, collect your wetness on your fingertips. “Okay, I want you to just draw some little circles across the head, yeah? Like you do on my clit. Just try it out, see what feels good.” The sight is fucking mesmerising, and from the sounds spilling from his lips and the flush in his cheeks, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum all over himself yet. “Alright, baby. Doing so good. You can make yourself cum now, alright? Just keep doin’ what feels good.”

Your lips part around a moan as you watch him. He speeds up, slows a little, experimenting with pace and pressure. You’re strangely proud even as you rub frantic little circles into your clit, slowly start to fuck yourself on your fingers. Desire pools at the base of your spine, and you moan his name as you speed up, cunt pulsing around your fingers. It seems like that’s what does Spencer in, a pathetic whimper of Mommy, yes spilling from his lips as ropes of cum splash up against his chest. His body convulses, gasping and moaning incoherently as his orgasm takes over.

Still panting as you finger yourself, you smile blithely over at him. “Still with me, pretty? How was that?”

Gasping, Spencer blinks helplessly at you for a moment. “Thank you.” Suddenly dismayed, he looks down at himself. “Gross,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “All messy, aren’t you? You want Mommy to get you cleaned up?” He nods, expecting you to get up and fetch a washcloth. Instead, you press him down until he’s lying supine, lean over him so your boobs hang in his face. Like he can’t resist, Spencer licks a stripe along your chest. You giggle softly, press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, start to work your way down. Carefully, you lap up the mess dripping across his chest, and he moans brokenly. Your eyes flutter closed as his taste hits your tongue, a needy ache burning between your thighs the longer you lick him clean.

He chokes on a breath when you wrap your lips around his head, clean up the last drops of cum beaded on his tip. “I can’t-” he clears his throat. “I can’t… go again… yet,” he says, cheeks pinking up adorably.

You pull off, lick your lips exaggeratedly. “S’okay, honey. I don’t need you to. Yet,” you add with a wink. “Just wanted to get you cleaned up.” Still desperately horny, you crawl up his body, kiss him furiously. “Spencer,” you moan against his lips. “I want you to make me cum. Do you wanna make Mommy cum, baby?”

“Mhmm. Yeah, I want to. What do you…? Can I, uh… Eat you out?” he asks timidly, the final few words unfamiliar on his tongue and belying his desperation.

God above, where did you find this boy? “Another time, honey. Later tonight, if you’re lucky. But I’m planning on keeping your mouth nice and busy for now, okay?” You grab his hand, slide it around to the front of your panties, grind your clit against the heel of his palm through the lace. “Want you to fuck me with your fingers, okay, sweetheart?”

Nodding frantically, Spencer tugs your panties down just enough that he can fit his hand against your cunt. You cup his jaw, kiss him hard as he slips a finger inside you. “You’re so warm,” he breathes, rubbing delicate circles into your clit as your cunt pulses around him.

“That’s it, pretty. Such a good boy. Just like Mommy taught you, alright?” you moan, arching your back as hot pleasure twists under your skin. Spencer slides another finger in, curls then expertly, as if he’s been practicing. Then, a blinding spark of pure ecstasy flashes through you. “Oh, my fucking God! There, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you babble, your kiss more spit and moans than tongue and lips. Spencer doesn’t let up, hits your g-spot over and over, still rubbing soft circles into your clit. You were already close before he started, and his glorious, frankly brutal assault on the most sensitive places in your body leaves you powerless.

You surrender to it willingly, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. It’s so forceful you almost black out, gasping into Spencer’s mouth and writhing against him. Ecstasy floods every inch of you, pulse roaring in your ears and hammering in your chest. Spencer’s fingers are still deep inside you when you come to, and he’s staring down at the point they disappear into your cunt. “Sorry,” he murmurs, gently pulling them out. “I just really like being… inside you.”

God, you can’t wait to teach him about cockwarming. “So sweet,” you coo. He lifts his hand, sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you groan. “I think we need to have a little talk, honey,” you murmur, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He nods.

“I didn’t enjoy it,” he says quickly. “The other night. I mean, it was… It wasn’t… I don’t know. All I could think about was that she wasn’t you. I was, uh… Sort of afraid?” he says with a humorless laugh.

You make a soft, concerned noise. “What do you mean, honey?” Your fists clench at your sides, head pounding furiously all of a sudden.

“Just that… I feel so safe with you. And it wasn’t that she made me feel bad, or unsafe, or anything. But I was so worried about doing something wrong, and I never felt that with you, and all I wanted was you instead.” Spencer curls his body into yours as you hook a leg over his waist.

Brushing your thumb over his cheek softly, you gaze into his sweet, long-lashed eyes. “You have me, sweetheart. I promise.”

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

PART ONE

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Genre: Childhood friends, separation, amnesia, angst, slow burn, smut, romance.

Description: Dead eyes, pale skin, no memories. Returning to Minnesota convinces your father that it might be for the best. The familiarity of everything, he says, might help. But you have no recollection of living a life here, except for the old basketball court just around the block from your home. And somehow, you find yourself walking aimlessly toward it, wasting your remaining time sitting on the rusted metal bench. No one comes here. Yet, you feel like you're being watched.

Then, one sunset, a vehicle abruptly stops in the distance. A woman with blonde hair steps out. Blue eyes, glowing skin... and suddenly, your brain snaps. Memories.

You almost feel happy, hopeful that you can regain your lost memories. But when you look into her eyes, all you see is hatred.

Chapter 1: Snapshots of Memories

"Are you ready, honey?" Steven, your dad, asks for the nth time today. You’re packing up all your things because you're going back to Minnesota, your hometown. "It's for the best," your dad says. And, with your current state, you're in no position to negotiate.

You haven’t looked in a mirror for the past three years, but one glance at your arms tells you that you've become skinny—like, malnourished-skinny. Gone is your rosy complexion, replaced with deathly pale skin. You could pass as a vampire, minus the fangs. Plus, you feel like a shell, void of any memories. The only memories you have are from three months ago—waking up in a hospital bed, with your dad hysterical and shaking from exhaustion, and maybe from the happiness of you finally waking up.

Apparently, you learned that you were involved in a traumatic car accident. Your mom, Emma, was the driver, and you were in the passenger seat. Sadly, she didn’t make it. After hearing that, you kind of want to hit your head for not recalling anything about your own mother. You feel guilty and weirded out that you can’t even feel sad, hurt, or broken when learning about the loss—because you couldn’t even put a face to the name your dad calls his beloved wife.

"Yes, Dad. Are you?"

And now, three months later, you're leaving and moving states.

Minnesota

You arrived at last. It was a cozy home, with your nice room, and you saw things and trinkets a 12-year-old might own. You're 22 now, you think to yourself. That’s what your dad tells you—he showed you your documents. You're a senior college student, majoring in Civil Engineering. Ironic, considering you're supposed to be so smart, and now you're just… meh.

You went down to the living room and saw your dad unpacking other things, so you told him you were going to head out and check the premises. There was this gnawing feeling inside you when you passed by that old, abandoned basketball court. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it was the only thing that felt familiar.

And then it became a habit. Every day, you walked toward the court, your mind empty, then sat there for a couple of hours until the dark started consuming your vision, and you’d know it was time to go home. Your dad noticed your strange behavior but, oddly, didn’t comment on it—he just smiled.

One morning, while eating breakfast with him, you asked:

"Did I play basketball before?" You felt so drawn to it, but not enough to buy a ball and actually play.

"No, you preferred swimming. You liked to excel in areas where physicality and aggression weren’t present. You liked to draw, you could sing, not sure if you danced though, but definitely swimming. That was your therapy," he said, a faraway look in his eyes.

"So, why was I drawn to that place? It’s the only familiar thing here."

"Oh, honey. I did say you didn’t play, but you loved to watch someone who did."

Your heart stopped upon hearing that. I used to watch someone play basketball in that court? Is that it? Was it special?

"Who, Dad?" Your heart was thumping.

"A friend, honey. But I think she’s not around here anymore," your dad said with a sad smile, followed by a sigh.

"Oh." That was all you could say. What a wasted opportunity to regain my memories.

Days passed, and you slowly adjusted to your new life. You read through your past documents, searching for articles that might be crucial to your development. On your free time, of course, the basketball court became your personal meditation place. But ever since that conversation with your dad, coming here felt like you were being watched. You were certain no one was close enough to actually be watching you, except for the passing vehicles on the block. You thought you were just being paranoid.

Until one sunset, a car abruptly stopped in the distance. You turned your head, thinking there might have been an accident because of how loud the screeching of the tires was. But then, you saw a woman with blonde hair step out—blue eyes, glowing skin—and suddenly, you were holding your head because it hurt. Snapshots of memories flooded your brain, all with the same description of the woman, but with no face.

Once the pain subsided, you finally felt hopeful and happy that someone might hold the key to your memories. But when you came face to face with the woman—eye to eye—all you saw was hatred.

Dad, is she the friend?

[inkzectz]

in your Bigger than the sky animation benrey starts out as barney? that seems so interesting lore wise? i would love to hear about what you were thinking when you animated that askdhfjlagh and the sweet voice and dreading stare? no clue what it means but curious as hell

ok im gonna go a little crazy on this because this is my biggest/favorite bc ever.

In the full vods they refer to benrey as “Barney” for the first while, it’s kind of unclear why, from Wayne’s perspective it seems he just didn’t know his name and defaulted to the character models name, and gir and Holly said they thought the joke with benrey was he was Barney but wrong, and they kept calling him the wrong name, so bipple, booper, Bentley, but eventually benrey, the name said by scorpy, stuck.

All this to say, it’s a BIG hc of mine that he was intended to be Barney (in universe) but due to being self aware was able to break off from this character he was meant to be. it’s kind of implied within the series they all have fake memories of who they are, being AI they are supposed to sort of act a certain way to maintain the immersion but at the end of the day, nothing before the game booted up really happened.

And benrey knows this, benrey knew from the beginning nothing was real, that he wasn’t human, how it ends, that no one actually dies, the works. I also headcanon that he became self aware during the AI model training stages, that the guy in charge of training his AI as Barney, broke him causing his self awareness and he was just launched into the beta game fully aware of the circumstances of his existence. I don’t think he was fully aware of how everything in game worked though.

but this to me is why he seems to constantly be changing his view of Gordon, antagonizing him one moment and then being friendly the next, his feelings about him are complex, he knows from the beginning he isn’t actually Gordon Freeman, but a guy just playing half life. Being a security guard, he’s programmed to protect Gordon with his life, but he knows this. He knows what’s compelling him to care for Gordon isn’t himself but lines of code he’s bound to, and this is why he antagonizes him. But that’s a whole different rant on its own lol

That sequence at the beginning of the bigger than the sky animatic was supposed to be a false memory, something he was supposed to think happened, but the version of Gordon he remembers isn’t real. This idea of ‘Gordon’ is a concept that only exists in these fake memories. (This is also why I think he never calls Gordon by name throughout the series, because he knows it’s not actually him (besides that one time but it doesn’t count bc it was for a bit lalala I can’t hear you))

there wasn’t much thought into the details of that part, like the coughing into the hand with the sweet voice, I really just put that bc I thought it looked dramatic and cool 😓

BUT on the topic of this big ass hc of mine, it actually is super important to a upcoming project im working on, and I realized throughout the story boarding it might need some explanation because it also has a lot of flash backs to some fake memories.

Sorry this got super rant-y I tried to keep it as short and simple as I could, I love hlvrai, I think about it literally every moment of my life and have so many hcs

[palmerzy]

lowkey, spencer would totally be such a pervert when it comes to camgirl! reader.

like he’d constantly be checking his phone even away in cases, for notifs of announcements of your next streams and if he has the time, he’d try to catch even a small glimpse of a stream while in bed on a case.

the way he’d totally spend every earnings of his income on you 🤭❤️

answering this rn because i like the concept :3 not too well versed with all this stuff but either way, i hope this suffices 🙈

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes, incl. camgirl!reader and kinda perv!spencer (depends on your definition of a perv, really).

spencer doesn’t even remember how he stumbled across your page, probably through a rogue advert or something on his computer. but what he does know is that he was hooked right from the start.

he’s never really been one for watching porn, too busy analysing their body language and concluding that these people aren’t putting as much passion into it as he enjoys. you, though, you’re sweet and soft spoken, and still innocent to your subscribers whilst doing the most filthy of things.

the first thing that caught his eye was on your free page, a picture of you in a black and white lingerie, with a chess set in front of you - captioned ‘play with me?’. he couldn’t not subscribe to your main page after that. a beautiful woman and his favourite game? he couldn’t help wanting to see more.

at first, he felt a little odd and embarrassed about literally paying for porn, but he kind of just reminded himself that a lot of people do it, and he wasn’t the odd one out. plus, he was helping someone pay the bills, so in his mind - it was a good deed. his hefty salary could take the hit.

he didn’t even realise you did streams alongside your cutesy videos until he was in a random hotel room on a case, scrolling through his phone, the notification popping through. his brows had furrowed in curiosity, and he couldn’t stop himself from clicking onto it.

there you were, camera set up in the usual spot, sat in your bed. you were still fully clothed, which was…rare, and he soon realised that over the course of the stream things would grow more dirty. he could see people talking in the chat, sending in large sums of money, to which you were responding. as much as he wanted to, spencer was not about to actually talk to you. he’d rather die.

however, he did sometimes send you money. he didn’t have his name in his username, so he’d feel a little more confident typing a message along with the $50-100 dollars he’d send at a time. small things like “you’re so pretty,” “i love your voice,” and maybe a little “do you think you could read dante’s inferno on stream one day? :)”. yeah, he really loves your voice. probably more than he loves your body.

the thing is, he knows it’s your job, he knows you’re willingly putting these things on the internet because people want your body, but with each video and stream, he mostly focuses on how you sound, or how your eyes gleam any time you smile. he’s always a little miffed if you go live whilst he’s working a case or on the jet, but thankfully you upload your streams after, and he can’t help thinking it’s just for him.

he gets a little…attached, lets say, and soon enough he’s watching your videos every day. even your youtube channel, which is safe for work, where you simply upload makeup and clothing hauls - he loves it. every second of it.

though on your paid site, it’s literally porn, so obviously he gets turned on looking at it. he watches your face in your videos as you make yourself come, more than he watches the ministrations of your hands or toys. he conjures up images in his mind of those being his hands, your noises of pleasure being for him.

the first time you uploaded a video with someone else, he considered unsubscribing. he felt almost betrayed. he was paying and spending his salary on you, not coworkers and other men. nonetheless, he persevered, deciding to just not leave a donation on those posts - as if in protest.

he still never comments or talks in your lives, but he’s always lingering. he gets a little more confident when he sends money, instead leaving notes like “buy yourself something nice :)” or “maybe get a new mic? would be good to hear you clearer :)”

he’s slowly been getting less embarrassed by it, knowing it’s just a simple vice, everyone has one. that is, until, he leaves his phone on his desk when he goes to the bathroom, and morgan catches a peek at the notification from a well known camgirl site. safe to say, he’ll never live it down.

am happy to write something that goes more in depth onto what the reader does but i feel like it would just be x yourself smut LMAO

[dollishmehrayan]

# “SHE A RUNNER SHE A TRACKSTAR” ── .✦ ( batboys with an athletic!reader )

a/n: this is a request by this lovely anon (here) and secondly I want to feed you guys some good stories because I’ve been ranting so I need to work too duhh and secondly omg make sure to go vote on the poll for my 1k event, we’re at like maybe 700 votes too (I’m so impressed I ahve all these supporters mwah) but yess back to story was I feel like batboys would’ve LOVED a athletic!reader or like active exercising reader like they would love you 10x tags: (batboys x athletic!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Loves working out with you. Morning runs? Gym sessions? Acrobatic training? Dick is there, grinning like a kid in a candy store. He’s not even subtle about checking you out mid-workout, smirking when he catches you noticing. (Whether you be a Pilates princess or muscle mommy, he don’t care🙄)

Turns everything into a competition. “Bet I can do more pull-ups than you.” Spoiler: you usually win because he wants you to win, and he acts mock-offended for five minutes before admitting he totally ‘held back’ just to see you smile.

Constantly impressed by your athleticism. You pull off a new move, and he’s clapping like an over-enthusiastic coach. “Okay, that was amazing. Do it again so I can record it.”

Secretly uses you as inspiration for his own training. He sees you pushing yourself and thinks, “If she can do it, so can I.” You’ve turned him into an even more disciplined athlete (even though we are gonna be REALISTIC he already was a better one but yk I mean MOTIVATION🙂‍↔️).

Always hyping you up. You’re worried about nailing a performance or event? Dick’s leaning in close, whispering, “You’re incredible. You’ve got this.” He’s the boyfriend screaming your name from the stands when you win.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends he doesn’t care, but he’s obsessed. Jason will act all casual when you’re training, but you’ve caught him sneaking glances when you’re sparring or lifting. “What? I’m just making sure you’re not slacking.” “Sure jason, sure…”

Loves sparring with you. He does hold back (much), but the second you get the upper hand, he’s laughing and saying, “Okay, okay, maybe I underestimated you.”

Always has your back. If you’re dealing with an injury or overtraining, Jason’s the first to step in with tough love. “You’re not invincible. Take a break before you actually hurt yourself.” “Shut up.”

Teases you nonstop. You hit a personal best, and he’s like, “Not bad for a rookie.” But the second someone else downplays your achievements, Jason’s throwing hands.

Casual gym dates. You two will hit the gym together, but half the time, he’s too distracted by you to finish his own set. “Stop looking so good while you’re working out. It’s distracting.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tries to keep up but struggles. Tim’s more of a strategist than an athlete, so when you suggest running a marathon together, he’s immediately regretting every life choice. “Do we… really need to run this far?” (He starts limping at the beginning and then catches speed but it’s so funny to picture him limping idk??🥲) “Tim are you drunk?!” “What- no!” *cue him starting to run faster then you*

Admires your dedication. Tim doesn’t always understand why you push yourself so hard, but he respects it. “You’re incredible, you know that? I don’t think I could ever do what you do.” “Tim your literally one of the best martial artists what do you mean??”

Becomes your unofficial manager. He’s the one keeping track of your schedules, meal plans, and recovery days, making sure you don’t overwork yourself. “You’ve got a rest day tomorrow. Don’t argue.”

Loves watching you train. He’s not one to join in, but he’ll sit on the sidelines with his laptop, occasionally glancing up to watch you nail a move. When you catch him, he blushes and mutters, “I’m just… making sure you’re okay.”

Finds your athleticism insanely attractive. He’ll never admit it, but watching you take down an opponent or finish a grueling workout leaves him speechless. (He does the same but at night when your sleeping)

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Impressed but never says it outright. Damian will cross his arms and say, “Acceptable,” after you crush a workout, but the faint smirk on his face tells you he’s proud.

Pushes you to your limits. If you train together, prepare for no mercy. “You wanted to be better, didn’t you? Then stop complaining and try again.” He’s tough, but he knows you can handle it.

Secretly brags about you. Someone mentions physical skill, and Damian’s like, “My significant other is far superior to anyone here.” It’s his way of saying he’s proud without being mushy.

Enjoys sparring with you. He loves the challenge you bring, even if he won’t admit it. If you manage to land a hit, he’ll begrudgingly mutter, “Impressive. But don’t get cocky.”

Surprisingly protective. If anyone makes a snide comment about your athleticism, Damian’s glare alone is enough to make them rethink their life choices.

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - 2024

Guess who's backkkkk??? Ok so I know that I am late but only by like 4 days? So not too bad. Anyway! Welcome to Prince's 2024 Fic Rec List! I am now aiming to do a list every year (and more if we are lucky but let's not promise that hehe). As always here are my top 10 fics I read and a special bonus mention !

Perfect Star That Hid by thebigoblin (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

He turns his hand— It’s not bare, anymore. His wrist — it has a name. His soulmate’s name. He stares. And stares and stares because what the hell. This has to be a joke, right?

Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) by jadore_hale (1/1 | 4K | Teen)

“W-what is this?” Derek couldn’t even begin to get his mind around this current situation. “My Christmas gift to you, nephew.” Peter pushed the guy towards him, and Derek hastened to catch him before he fell face first on the floor. “I’d like you to meet your soul mate.” *** Derek's uncle Peter decides to get a little more creative this Christmas by finding Derek's soulmate and stuffing him in a box with a pretty bow on top.

Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI by suzvoy (1/1 | 21K | Mature)

Stiles is a Private Investigator, only not really. He's also magical, but only close up. One thing he's really good at is lusting over people from afar, which is why it's a problem when Laura Hale hires him to help her brother.

Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee (3/3 | 12K | Explicit)

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits. Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side. So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.

Welcome to the Jingle by Jmeelee (1/1 | 1K | Mature)

Derek could admit—only to himself, of course, never out loud—that he was a little desperate to make new holiday traditions with his (officially all adults now thank god) pack. But his ideas had run more along the lines of a cozy take-out dinner at his new apartment, an ugly sweater or white elephant party, or maybe volunteering at the local soup kitchen. It had not involved spending Christmas Eve at Jungle.

Hey Dad, Derek Hale Is In My Room. Bring Your Gun. by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 767 | Teen)

Being the Sheriff's kid is hard enough. Having a seemingly over-protective father who's more concerned about your bad influence than your ex-murder-suspect werewolf boyfriend is so much worse.

"The point is, I'm an adult," he amends, heaving a weary sigh as he attempts to salvage whatever is left of his dignity. "I can make my own decisions, and I choose Derek. He makes me happy. He's a good guy. He treats me well. He looks out for me, keeps me safe. He's responsible and respectful and a complete gentleman, and I really think that if you just got to know him a little better, you'd really—" The Sheriff holds up a hand, effectively cutting Stiles off mid-ramble. "I like Derek just fine," he says, and the smile that spreads across his face is warm and genuine. "You do?" Stiles falters, completely thrown. "Wait, so then why—" The Sheriff's fond smile turns to one of wry amusement. "It's you I don't trust, Stiles," he says around a hearty chuckle. "I've raised you for 18 years, I know exactly what kind of mischief you're capable of. Wouldn't want you dragging that nice, respectable boy into any trouble."

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right? When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything. Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

Over the Hedge(witch) by rororowyourboat (1/1 | 7K | Teen)

Derek moves into a new house with Laura and he is flustered by the hot gardener next door who is always just slightly dirty.

And When I Wake You're There I'm Saved by suchfun (1/1 | 14K | Teen)

"Derek," Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek's shoulder. "I'll be okay." "You didn't leave me," Derek argues. "How can you expect me to leave you?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it'll be fine. Even if I am captured, I'm just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood." Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn't wrap his hands around Stiles' throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. "That's fine. But this isn't a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head." "Derek," Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek's mind. "You'll come back for me." He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles. "I'll come back for you," he confirms. "And you better not be dead." Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. "You do say the sweetest things."

Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)

Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.

princecharmingwinks special mention (this fic has a heck of a lot of emotions and when Derek fell to his knees, my heart broke. you gotta read it to find out why! don't worry I will never read or rec unhappy endings)

Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (1/1 | 15K | Explicit)

Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late? ______________________________________________________ “Who are you to the pack?” the hunter asked. “I’m nobody.” Stiles answered plainly. And a harsh chill ran through Derek’s body. His breath caught in his throat because… because Stiles’ heart… it had remained steady. Stiles… actually believed that. Believed that he was ‘nobody.’ How could Stiles believe that?

That is all for 2024 my friends! Please remember to give kudos and leave comments for all our amazing Sterek writers. I know I'd be lost without you all. Thank you!

[ang3lc]

hello! i was wondering if you could either write about mainly soap (or the whole TF-141) finding out you’re pregnant and what they would be like all throughout the 9 months. It could either be head cannons or a fic, whatever you prefer 🤗

i tried to find fics about it but i can find barely any 😞

i tried to fight the poly!141 x reader demons, but i couldn't

cw: poly!141 x reader, pregnancy stuff, implied fem/afab!reader, (use of mom), no it doesn't matter who's kid it is.

finding out....

johnny is the first to react when you tell them the news. he's stunned silent for a split second before breaking into a wide grin and laughing. “we’re havin’ a bairn?” he pulls you into his arms, twirling you around despite your protests. “this is amazin’! we're gonna be parents!”

he's immediately excited, though slightly panicked. “wait…what do we need tae do? do we start buyin’ things? are we ready for this?” he's practically already nesting.

simon doesn’t say much at first. his gaze shifts between you and the others before he lets out a quiet, “well, that’s somethin' new."

in truth, he didn't know how to handle this information. his trauma left him scarred and terrified of the idea of parenting, but after some thought, he’ll find you alone and murmur, “y'gonna be great at this, lovie. we all will.” It’s one of the rare times he lets his emotions show.

kyle reacts with a mix of shock and excitement. “wait, wait—are we serious? this is real?” when you nod, he breaks into a wide smile, pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“this is amazing. you're gonna be a great mom, doll. we'll figure it out together.”

john's reaction is steady but warm. he gives you a soft smile and kisses the top of your head. “looks like our family’s getting a little bigger.”

he's calm and reassuring, already thinking about what this means for the team and how they’ll support you in the months ahead.

first trimester...

johnny's bouncing off the walls, thrilled about the news but hilariously overprotective. he refuses to let you lift anything heavier than a water bottle and constantly asks how you’re feeling.

“ye need anythin’? a pillow? water? more snacks?” you'll have to reassure him a hundred times a day that you’re fine.

he's also immediately obsessed with baby gear, sending you links to cribs, strollers, and onesies with ridiculous captions like, “look at this wee one—it’s got ducks on it!”

simon is less overtly excited but becomes quietly attentive. he starts keeping track of your cravings and your mood swings, making sure the others don’t overwhelm you too much.

if you’re feeling nauseous, he’ll silently sit with you, rubbing small circles on your back. he's not one for grand gestures, but his steady presence is comforting.

he's also the one who subtly puts his foot down when johnny starts suggesting that the kid'll be named “soap junior.”

kyle is practical but sweet, always checking in with you and making sure you’re eating enough. “don't forget to take your vitamins. and let me know if you need me to grab anything.”

he's fascinated by the changes in your body, always asking questions. “is it weird? like, do you feel different already?” he's genuinely curious and wants to understand every part of the process. not to mention the fact this his eyes refuse to leave your stomach once you start showing.

john keeps the everyone grounded. when the others (cough—johnny—cough) start fussing too much, he steps in. “give her some space. she's not made of glass.”

second trimester...

by now, johnny's even more excited, especially when the baby starts moving. he insists on feeling every kick and might even get a little competitive with the others. “aye, th' bairn kicked fur me first, didn’t it?”

he starts talking to your belly in gaelic. no one knows that he's saying but kyle has a hunch that he's praying.

simon is more engaged now, though still subtle. he'll casually start doing the more practical things like baby-proofing or arranging for a larger living space.

he secretly reads up on pregnancy and parenthood, though he’ll never admit it. you catch him once, and he grumbles, “just making sure we’re prepared.” but you know it's for his own sake.

kyle takes the role of “baby planner” seriously, organizing everything from nursery ideas to potential schedules for when the baby arrives. he's also the one to encourage you to take care of yourself.

“you're doing amazing, love. just let us handle the rest, yeah?” he's always ready with a shoulder rub or a cup of tea when you need it.

john really begins to hone his 'dad energy'. he ensures you’re not overexerting yourself and keeps everyone focused. he starts sharing stories about his own experiences with kids, whether it’s nieces, nephews, or friends’ children, to reassure you. he holds your hand on the days when you're feeling a bit off, offering a warm embrace for you to melt in.

third trimester...

johnny is on defcon 1. he's counting down the seconds and trying to distract himself with building the crib (badly) and then taking it down, just to reassemble it. or assembling strollers. “don't worry, love, i've got this… where’s the instruction manual?”

he's constantly doting on you, rubbing your calves and back or carrying things for you. “you're a goddess, y’know that? absolutely goddess.”

simon becomes even more protective. the parenthood book he'd been reading mentioned having a mhospital bag' for when the time comes. when your third trimester comes, he's prepping, making sure a bag is packed and everything’s ready to go when the time comes. “better t'be prepared than scramblin' last minute.”

kyle is the calmest of the bunch, which makes him your go-to when you’re feeling overwhelmed. he's always ready to lend an ear or a helping hand.

"you're not doing this alone.” he'd mumble to you while drawing soft circles on your skin. his steady reassurance keeps everyone else from spiraling into chaos, as well.

d-day...

it starts with you waking up in the middle of the night, a sharp cramp making you wince. you sit up, trying to brush it off, but another contraction hits, and it’s unmistakable: the baby is coming.

johnny is the first one you wake up. he's immediately wide-eyed and panicking. “wait, this is it? this is actually it?” he's scrambling to find his boots, yelling down the hall for the others, and tripping over his own feet in his rush.

simon appears a moment later, calm but laser-focused. “time the contractions,” he says, already grabbing the hospital bag he prepared weeks ago. he gently helps you to your feet, his hand steady on your lower back to support you.

kyle's ushering you to sit down (as simon tries to shove him off) and asking practical questions. “how far apart are they? are you feeling okay? deep breaths, love.” he's already calling ahead to the hospital to let them know you’re on your way.

john takes charge of the logistics. he's already in the car and heating it up. “let's move, lads. we're trained for chaos; this is no different.” his voice is firm, but his eyes are filled with concern as he checks on you.

the ride is chaotic, to say the least. johnny insists on sitting in the backseat with you, holding your hand and offering completely and entirely unhelpful but enthusiastic encouragement.

"you’re doin’ amazing, lass. just breathe! In and out, aye? we're almost there!”

"i'm going into labor, i didn't forget how to fucking breathe, johnny!" this is starting to feel like the worst period cramps of your life.

kyle is the one actually timing your contractions and giving johnny side-eyes every time he gets too loud. “you're not the one in labor, soap. chill.”

under any other circumstance, simon would not be allowed to drive. not even around the block. tonight though? he drives like a man on a mission. he's cutting through traffic like a getaway driver with 50k in the trunk. he barely says a word nd his jaw is clenched tight, his knuckles are white on the wheel. when you let out a particularly loud groan, he mutters, “we're almost there. hang on.”

john rides shotgun, barking out directions to simon and giving you steady updates. “you're doing great, dove. just focus on breathing. we'll be there in five.”

the team storms the hospital like it's a raid. john carries you inside while johnny frantically explains to the nurses, barely coherent in his excitement. “she's havin’ th' bairn! right now!”

when they wheel you into the delivery room, johnny is by your side, holding your hand like his life depends on it. he's grinning and panicking simultaneously. “yer incredible, love. just a bit more. ye've got this!”

simon stands beside you and smooths your hair out of your face, placing a hand on your shoulder during every contraction. he can tell you're a little scared. “one at a time. you're stronger than this.” his presence feels like a rock in the storm.

kyle makes sure you’re comfortable and liaising with the medical team. “she likes ice chips, not water,” he tells a nurse, even as he offers you his hand. “you're amazing. we're so proud of you, hun."

john is the unshakable anchor, standing at the foot of the bed, his voice steady and calm. “that's it. just like that. one more push.” he doesn’t waver for a second, even when you're literally howling in pain.

when the baby’s first cries fill the room, everything changes.

johnny lets out an actual cheer, tears streaming down his face. “we did it! we've got a bairn!” he's laughing, crying, and probably squeezing your hand too hard.

simon doesn’t say a word, all shock and awe, but when the nurse places the baby in your arms, his eyes soften in a way you’ve never seen before. He murmurs, “it's perfect,” his voice breaking slightly.

kyle cuts the cord with a shaky laugh, grinning ear-to-ear. “welcome to the world, little one.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his joy radiant.

john is last to hold the baby, cradling it in his large, steady hands. “you've done so well, love... I'm so proud of you.” his voice is thick with unshed tears and pride as he hands the baby back to you.

the night ends with a baby nestled in your arms and your family surrounding you. a chaotic, loving, perfectly imperfect family.

mlist