#I’m having a small aneurysm

[lurazepam]

I’ve been watching major crimes and just realised that the woman Sharon is yelling at when she decides to unalive live happily ever after is actually Katrina Cornwell?? Oh my god?? Kat Cornwell finished off Sharon Raydor??

[landfilloftrash]

I feel the need to make constant (silly) content for these two, so y’all are gonna have to unfortunately suffer me for a bit

[cassandracain52]

so I’ve seen lots of fics about Bruce coming back and finding out things like Tim loosing his spleen or Damian getting shot (on multiple occasions by different people) and he almost always finds out by either having dug into the Batcomputers records and stumbling across it or just seeing it on scans or something after Tim or Damian is injured

but imagine for a moment Bruce finds out, not on his own, but by the others telling him.

And by “tell him” I of course mean that they all automatically assume that he already knows about all of it(because he’s the worlds greatest detective so obviously they don’t need to say anything) so they never bring it up until they mention it one day in passing and nearly give him a heart attack.

for example:

Bruce: Tim, I need you to come with me to speak with Dr. Thompkins down at the clinic about that new drug that’s been circulating

Tim: Oh, sure thing, just let me grab my mask

[Bruce not saying anything but looking at him confused because Tim is already fully suited up and wearing his domino mask?]:

[Tim, now wearing a surgical face mask]: Ok, I’m ready! [Bruce just staring at him, waiting for some explanation. He doesn’t get one.]:

Bruce: Tim

Tim: hm?

Bruce: Why are you wearing a face mask..?

Tim: Oh! Well Dr. Thompkins got mad at me last time I came to the clinic without one because there’s a lot of sick people there and I should be more careful since I’m immunocompromised-

[Bruce, immediately cutting him off]: Wait, what?

[Tim, slightly confused]: She got mad at me when I didn’t wear one last time..?

[Bruce, equally confused and growing very concerned]: No, not that. You’re immunocompromised?

[Tim, now completely lost because this is all common knowledge?]: Uh, yeah??

[Bruce, even more concerned]: How??? What do you mean??

[Tim, getting annoyed and rolling his eyes]: Well that’s what they call you when you have no spleen, Bruce.

Bruce: What.

[Tim finally realizing that, just maybe, they skipped a step]: I have no spleen? It got stabbed so Ra’s took it

[Bruce, about to have an aneurysm]: RA’S DID WHAT-

______ Or like him finding out Damian had his entire spine replaced

Bruce: Hey, do you think it’s strange Damian’s so small?

Dick: No?? He’s ten?? Ten year olds are small?

[Bruce, audibly concerned]: No, I mean don’t you think he should have grown some by now? Is he not eating enough?

[Dick, immediately relaxing]: Oh, that? Yeah, it’s fine

[Bruce, still concerned]: Are you sure? I was taller than that at his age

[Dick, waving his hand dismissively]: Nah, he’s fine. I think the spine replacement just stunted his growth a bit

Bruce:…

Dick:..?

[Bruce, near hysterically because all his kids somehow keep losing pieces of their insides and none of them seem bothered by it??]: his wHAT- ____

Dick has to spend the next several hours trying to stop Bruce from making everyone do a mandatory medical examination so he can make sure none of his other kids are missing anything

Dick promises that it was just the two things

Bruce is not reassured

[coco-loco-nut]

Daddy’s Girl

pairing: Daniel x Stroll Reader

summary: you start dating the one driver your brother hates more than anyone

a/n: thanks for the request!!

requests open masterlist

——————

“Lancie, you can’t just leave me here!” you pout at your older brother.

“Sorry, I have to go. Go be a pain in the ass somewhere else, you brat,” Lance replies as a sibling tends to do. You huff and walk towards where you assume Aston Martin is, but you end up lost a minute later.

“Are you lost?” an Australian man says behind you. You quickly turn about-face, looking at what might be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

“A little, yeah,” you blush, quickly looking down so you aren’t just staring at him.

“I’m Daniel, where is a beautiful girl like you going?” He asks, hoping you’ll look at him again with your beautiful eyes.

“Aston Martin, my name is Y/n,” you introduce yourself, extending your hand for him to shake it, purely on reflex. Daniel takes your hand in his and doesn’t let go.

“You’re in luck, I’m going to my garage right beside it. Might as well give you the tour while we’re at it,” he says and that’s when it clicks. This is Daniel Ricciardo, the guy who your brother really doesn’t like. Shit. The two of you chat and laugh as he shows you around.

“Thanks for the tour,” you blush a little as you stand outside VCARB and Aston Martin, not really wanting to let his hand go. He doesn’t either, your hand fits perfectly in his. Daniel knows exactly who you are, he’s been crushing on you for a few months since he saw a photo Lance posted of you.

“Can I take you out for dinner or coffee sometime?” he asks, a little hopeful you’d agree since he was still holding your hand. You quickly agree, typing your number into his phone.

“Text me,” you smile, heading into the familiar green space.

“There you are, sweetheart, I was getting worried!” your dad says, walking to you.

“Sorry Daddy, I was exploring,” you aren’t technically lying as you hug your father.

“That’s okay, just let me know where you are next time, okay?” he asks. relieved you aren’t hurt. You are his baby girl after all.

“I promise. Lance just had to leave and I didn’t know where I was,” you admit.

“He should know better, I’ll talk to him later. Do you want tea? Coffee? Breakfast? Did you eat?” Lawrence starts to fuss over you. You can’t lie to yourself, you enjoy that your dad spoils you, to him you can do no wrong, even if he has a no boys until you are 25 policy.

Over the next few months you accompany your brother to his races, under the guise that you really enjoyed going the first time. You’ve been secretly seeing Daniel, your now boyfriend. It’s thrilling, rebelling against your dad.

“Danny,” you grin, jumping into his arms in the small alley between the two motorhomes.

“Hi baby,” he hugs you tight, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I missed you,” you breathe in his scent.

“It’s only been a few hours, baby. You should be wearing my team shirt, you’d look so hot,” he smirks and you jokingly hit his arm.

“Don’t say that in front of my father, he’ll have an aneurysm,” you laugh, Daniel watches happily as your face scrunches with the laugh.

“Noted,” he is just content to be holding you in his arms.

“Speaking of, I want you to properly meet my dad and Lance,” you say a little shyly. You know how fast gossip travels around the paddock now, and you don’t want to be exposed before you have a chance to tell your family.

“Anything for you, Y/n, as long as you are ready for it,” Daniel kisses your head.

“Thank you for agreeing, I just don’t it to get out before we tell our friends and families. They deserve better than that,” you admit, Daniel’s heart swells. You have a reputation for being a spoiled daddy’s girl from people who don’t know you, but he knows you and how kind you are.

“Just let me know when and where,” he promises, knowing that your family is everything to you. He can ignore his rocky relationship with Lance, he just hopes Lance can. You chat and make out for a few more minutes before parting.

“Daddy, is it okay if I invite a friend to dinner with us tonight?” you ask, giving your dad the look he can never say no to.

“Of course sweetheart, I’ll add an extra spot to our reservation,” Lawrence is curious about who you are inviting, but he doesn’t push it. You grin, texting Daniel the details. You pick Daniel up in your custom DB12, he takes a second to appreciate the car. It’s racing green exterior and tan interior with black detailing. Daniel isn’t sure why he didn’t expect you to drive it, but he also feels like it perfectly fits you.

“Have you pushed this baby to her limits?” Daniel asks with his cheeky smile.

“I may not be a race driver, but I do know how to properly appreciate all she can do,” you grin, neither confirming or denying.

“That’s my girl. Anything I should know?” He asks and you properly look at his outfit, navy dress pants paired with a white dress shirt that has the top couple buttons undone and navy suit jacket.

“Just that you look handsome, and to be yourself. I like you for who you are, that should be enough for them,” you tell him, so close to saying that you love him. Daniel’s hand rests on your leg as you drive, the hum of the engine filling any lulls in conversation. You enter the private dining room a couple steps ahead of Daniel so you can properly introduce him, your Dad and Lance stand up.

“Daddy, Lancie, I’d like you to properly meet my boyfriend, Daniel,” Daniel walks in behind you, immediately going to your father to shake his hand first, then Lance, then pulling out your seat for you. He takes a seat beside you, you hold his hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.

“Your boyfriend?” Lance asks, visibly hurt. He had told you that he didn’t like Daniel, and he wishes you had told you.

“I really like him, Lance. He treats me like a princess and makes me happy,” your eyes plead with your brother as he stands up.

“Sorry, I just need a second,” Lance tells your father and steps into the hallway.

“He makes you happy?” Lawrence asks you, trying to ease your distressed look. You just nod. “I’m not thrilled, but if he makes you happy, that’s what matters,” your dad says and you feel Daniel squeeze your hand, and you look at him. Daniel nods, as if he’s reading your mind.

“I’ll be right back, Daddy, I need to talk to Lance,” your voice is a little shaky as you join your brother in the hallway. You can hear your dad interrogating Daniel.

“Lancie?” You ask softly, your brother facing away from you.

“Y/n, please, I just need a minute,” you can hear the strain in his voice, but something keeps you from backing down.

“I’m really sorry, I wanted you to know in case it got leaked by someone, you and Dad are one of the first to know,” you say, hoping it helps.

“You should’ve told me before you ever even went on a date with him. You know I don’t like him,” Lance turns to you, clearly upset.

“Lance-”

“I’m going home, tell Dad please,” Lance huffs, mad at you and you feel a pit in your stomach.

“Lance, please,” you fight with every fiber of your being not to cry.

“I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just need to be alone and process it,” Lance hugs you, and while you are sure he’s lying about not being mad, it does help. Truthfully, he’s mad at Daniel. To Lance, he is using you to get back at you. You take a second before entering the dining room again.

“Lance is going home, he said he needed to be alone,” you sit at your seat, Daniel’s hands immediately finding yours.

“Daniel seems like a good guy, even if he is too old for you. I will allow it, but if you hurt her you will never find yourself in a race again,” Lawrence threatens, and you know he isn’t bluffing.

“Yes, sir. Your daughter is perfect in every way, I would never dream of hurting her,” Daniel replies, looking at you, eyes full of admiration, a look that you easily return. Lawrence silently notes to look into Daniel’s Red Bull contract.

“I’ll talk to Lance, you know he likes to over react,” Lawrence says, signaling for the waiter to take your order.

It takes a couple weeks for Lance to start talking to you again, and after a few months of watching you and Daniel together, he lets the negative feelings go. By a year later, they are like brothers, and you think that Lance and Lawrence like Daniel better than you. Especially since Lawrence gifted Daniel a similar version of your car.

“Y/n, what would’ve happened if your dad and Lance both never came around,” Daniel asks one afternoon as you lounge beside the pool, his arm wrapped around you.

“Probably would’ve dumped you. I couldn’t hide and lie from Daddy for too long, too much of a Daddy’s girl for that,” you smile with a small shrug. Daniel sits up a little, you look up at him.

“Yes you are,”

“DANIEL!”

[banquetwriter]

CAN YOU DO some johnnie smut with morning sex PLEASE

that would be so hot

୨୧ glory filled mornings ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ SMUT, unedited, wrote this when i had a fever so it doesn’t make sense lol

summary: ʚ johnnie wakes up with an embarrassing situation ɞ

Words: idk lol

SUPPORT ME

An: i’m so sorry u have been absent i’ve genuinely been going through the ringer and i promise i’m making my way through these requests!! also i will rewrite this at some point haha

It wasn't often that Johnnie indulged in hookups. Sure every so once in a while a pretty girl and him would leave a bar together. Nothing was ever that serious with him. He has been on a few dates but nothing ever went anywhere.

This was different. He had to admit you had piqued his interest since he met you at a party. Then again the next week he saw you again. You were one of Corry and Jake’s friends from their traphouse days.

You were so fucking pretty. The way you laughed at almost all of his jokes, even if they weren't funny. When you would lean in to make sure you heard everything he wanted to say. The way you would trace his tattoos whenever he would show you one of them. That's what led the two of you to cuddle in an Uber home.

The two of you drunkenly cuddled on your couch before you kicked him to your bed. Refusing to let a guest sleep on the couch. That's how he woke up to his head pounding and an unfortunate boner.

He felt the familiar feeling and looked down, revealing a small tent in his boxers. Probably from sleeping in a pretty girl's bed all night. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

He rubs his face with his hands as you suddenly enter the room. He quickly covers his body back up with your duvet. “Heyy good morning sleepy head,” you said smiling. You had a medicine bottle and a glass of water in your hands. “H-hey,” he said, feeling his heart beating out of his chest.

“Ugh god my head hurts so bad, I took some Tylenol and I hope that helps.” you absentmindedly said setting the bottle and water down on your bedside table. The pressure of the blanket pressing on his core was definitely not helping his boner, the sight of your short Beetlejuice sleep shorts was also not helping.

Your skin looked so damn soft, the pudge of your thighs spilling out as you sat down on the bed next to him. You were on your phone not even looking at him. It was truly embarrassing just how much his damn brain was fixated on you.

You hugged your knees to your chest scrolling around on your phone. Softly chewing on your nails, you notice that Johnnie has been staring at you for a prolonged amount of time. You lifted your head from your Doordash app to look at him.

He looked flushed, he had ripped his shirt off in the middle of the night so you could see how red his chest was. You quirked your head at him “Dude Johnnie you ok?” you ask, trying not to laugh a little.

“Um yeah I'm fine-” he muttered, scratching his head, his rings and necklaces clinking together. “Dude, tell me what's going on. You didn't blow chunks in my room did you?” you say with a disgusted face.

“No! No- I swear I didn't-” he said sitting up more. Unfortunately, he was cut off by your eyes dropping to his waist. When he sat up the blanket got just a little too low. Johnnie’s raging boner peeking through his skinny jeans was now in full view.

His eyes shoot up back at your face. He couldn't discern your facial expression at all. Your eyes were slightly wide but you didn't look disgusted or horrified or even mildly embarrassed.

Johnnie sure did. He felt like he was gonna die. Right there, right then, with a fat boner in a pretty girl's bedroom. His brain was slowly shutting down from anxiety. Unable to form an apology. Or any thoughts for that matter.

You felt a rush of confidence surge through your body as you stared at the raven-haired boy. “Oh?” you asked, turning your phone off, leaning forward getting closer to Johnnie.

He was surely having an aneurysm. Or maybe he was still drunk and this was just a bad dream. He could almost feel the heat radiating off of your skin. It was going to set him on fire. His head was pounding and he was tired, but at the same time, he hadn't ever felt more awake than he does now.

“I-I'm so sorry. I'm not trying to be some fucking creep. It just happens sometimes I promise it has nothing to do with you.” he stuttered putting his hand in between you and himself.

That was half true. Sometimes morning wood just happens for no reason, the untrue half was that it had NOTHING to do with you. Maybe Johnnie dreamt of you last night, maybe he didn't. All he knows is the scent of you was enough to drive him up the fucking walls.

“Awww really?” you asked in a fiend sad voice. You placed your right hand on one side of his body moving you closer to him. He felt like squealing or squirming or maybe both. This was a horrible situation to be in.

“Yes, I'm so sorry I will leave.” he prefaced trying to pin his body down onto the mattress as you moved closer to him. “There's no need for that, you said it yourself it's perfectly natural. You don't need to be embarrassed.” you purred out. Johnnie's skin was on fire, he could have cried from how hard he was in his jeans.

“I promise it's not about you,” he whispers, trying to save face. “It's not? You don't think I'm pretty Johnnie?” you ask with a pout. You continued to climb up the bed. Your body was so close to his now. Your arms were on either side of his head.

“No! It's not that I think you are beautiful-” he almost shouted at you. “Oh, you think I'm beautiful?” you whispered as you hovered over his neck. He let out a shaky breath as he watched your head dip down to his neck.

He felt like could explode as you slowly started to kiss up his neck. “This ok?” you murmured against his skin, your voice tickling his flesh. “Mhm!” he borderline whimpered out feeling your tongue and teeth grazing his hot skin.

You moved your legs to mimic your arms moving on either side of his body. Your body was on top of his, feeling his boner through his pants. It sends waves of heat to your core. Pressing your clothes clit on his hard-on slowly starting to rub up and down.

It was painful how hard he was. “Fuck please, let me take my pants off.” he moaned out his hands slinking up to your waist and under his shirt. You were quick to take his hands off of you and hold them above next to his head.

He whined out as your display of dominance, bucked his hips up into you. “Keep your hands there,” you whispered while sitting up. All of your weight was now on his crotch. The pressure sent him spinning. You slowly slid your hands on your body taking your shirt off.

He gasped looking at you. He never went after looks always personality but fuck you were so perfect for him. It was hard listening to your instructions. He wanted to grip your sides as you bounced up and down on him.

But he stayed put. You slowly pulled your shorts off as well, it's not like they left much to the imagination. Your dark panties found their way to his body again grinding down on him. His mound pressing into you. “Let me take my fucking pants off,” he whined, lifting his head a little bit.

“God, you are so impatient,” you murmur moving your head down, he sucked in with clenched teeth as you slowly started to pepper kisses along his chest. “Ah fuck.” he whined bucking his hips against you.

“Shush,” you whispered, you continued to suck and pull at his chest skin adorning his body with hickies that matched the ones on his neck. He threw his head back trying to feel any sort of release or pressure.

“Mm, fuck.” He whimpered again he squirmed more under you, his slim waist flexing beautifully. “Johnnie?” you asked moving up above him leaving his marked chest alone for now.

“Yeah?” He panted out, his head still feeling like a jackhammer was bouncing around his brain. “Take your pants off,” you whispered. Your voice was so quiet he didn't hear you at first. A pause between the two of you capturing desperation.

Once the words finally filled his brain he scooted away from you and off the bed hastily ripping the belt he had been wearing off. You flipped on your back, head hitting the pillow.

You hooked your fingers around your panties to pull them down. “No! Don't, I want to.” Johnnie said, holding his hand out. You smirked at him feeling your panties sticking to your body.

He fiddled with his jean button before finally being able to undo it. He yanked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing up and hitting his chest. He crawled up the bed, staring down at you.

You were breathing deeply, gazing into his eyes. Johnnie grabs the blanket, dropping it over himself. His hands find their way to your sides slowly caressing up and down. His head ducked down to your neck.

He returns the favor of the hickies nipping at your skin. Your nails find their way to his hair, scraping his scalp and encouraging him to continue. You moaned out slightly at the contact.

His arms moved to either side of your head, his back flexing to reach every part of you. This time your hips moved up to meet him. “Who is the impatient one now? Huh?” he asked, you could feel the smirk on his lips.

“It's still you.” you teased him, slowly grabbing a fistful of his hair. He whined slightly as you pulled him away from your neck. His dick was resting on top of your stomach. “Johnnie, I need you,” you stated slowly. “I need you to fuck me,” you said, your voice dripping dominance.

Johnnie couldn't help but obey. “Fuck yeah, ok,” he muttered sitting on his knees and moving his hands towards your sides. Finally pulling your panties from your dripping cunt. You spread your legs open for him, his hands pressing against your thigh to stabilize himself.

Hu pumped his cock a few times before lining himself in your entrance. He slowly pushed into you, whimpering feeling your tight walls around him. He leaned down, capturing your lips. He slowly pulled out of you and snapped his hips back in. You whimpered against him.

Your nails found his back, he slowly started to pump faster and faster inside you. You moaned against his mouth scratching down his back. Your long acrylic nails surely leave him bleeding.

He moans into your mouth as he starts to approach his climax. “Fuck fuck I can't hold on for much longer,” he whines. “Keep going, I'm so close,” you whine back to him. He grips the pillows behind your head as his hips snap against yours.

The coil snaps as your walls flutter around his member. Your eyes roll back as you mewl out for him. Your orgasm washes over you like a powerful wave, you squeezed him so tight you pulled his orgasm out of him.

His hips stuttered for a second before continuing to pump in and out of you as white ropes shot to your core. After a few seconds, he stood still before removing himself from you.

You feel him drop to your chest bringing the blanket up over himself and holding you. He snuggled his head into your chest not wanting this moment to be over.

Eventually, it had to be. So to Johnnie’s dismay, he rolled over on the other side of your bed. You giggle as he lets out a dramatic huff. “Mmm fuck.” he mumbles his headache returning. You rolled over as well smiling down at him.

“We should go shower now,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. “Mm later,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you.

The two of you sat with one another for a while. Just resting, tracing his tattoos. Eventually you moved to the bathroom, turning the warm water on. You stepped in letting the water heat your body.

The shower door opened and you turned around to see Johnnie stepping in after you.

[reminiscingtonight]

Pretending

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Word Count: 955

A/N: Had to celebrate Fletcher's new album with a new fic

Part Two

[WOSO Masterlist]

“I think I should kiss you.”

You laugh, pulling the older girl closer to you. “Well I’m not stopping you.”

Aitana simply snorts in response, burying her face in your neck. You pretend it doesn’t tickle when she breathes out deeply, arms tightening around your waist. “How’s your mami?”

“I think you see her more than I do, Tana.”

It’s been three years but the longing from moving away from home still hasn’t faded. Barcelona’s always been the goal. Ever since you could remember. A product from La Masia, you knew you always wanted to play for the first team.

Sometimes the things you want aren’t always in the cards, hence the detour in your career to Manchester. Ona went to United but you went to City, both of you wanting to develop your football skills some more in a new city. Although your best friend has already returned back to Barcelona, you still have a little more to go before you could go back. 

“Shh,” Aitana giggles, clumsily raising a finger to press against your lips. 

It makes you feel warm, seeing how laidback and relaxed the midfielder seems right now. With all of the pressure she experiences on the daily, it’s rare to see the older girl as bubbly as she is now. After winning the Ballon d’Or, her own expectations have only increased tenfold. 

“Gotta go pee,” she mumbles, finally pushing off of you. You make the move to follow but Aitana presses a hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks. “No, get me another drink please.” 

You have an amused smile playing on your lips as she makes her leave, dragging some of the other girls with her. 

Ona watches you watch Aitana, sighing under her breath. 

You try to ignore her, but Ona’s never one to mince her words. “I don’t get it.”

You shrug. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

It’s always been the three of you, the trio of musketeers taking on Spain’s youth teams and now the senior one together. You’ve grown up together, experienced all the good and bad by each other’s sides. 

So safe to say Ona’s been here through the years to see how much you’ve fallen for Aitana. 

And just as much as you’ve fallen for Aitana, the older girl seems to be just as allergic to admitting her feelings. 

It’s obvious to just about everyone how much Aitana loves you. It’s in all the small things. The way she makes sure to tune in all of your matches. The way she sends you thoughtless musings every day. The way she always remembers your coffee order whenever you return to town.

But Aitana’s never been one to commit to anything other than football. 

You’ve always known this, so you haven’t done too much to try to convince her otherwise. No matter how much Ona’s always bugging the two of you to make things official or for you to move on, you’ve stayed steadfast in your belief that things will work out in the end. 

At the end of the day no one’s getting hurt but yourself. You’d be willing to wait for as long as it takes if it means it’ll be the two of you at the end. Because you know that’s the only outcome in this drawn out affair. 

You love Aitana and Aitana loves you, so there’s really no other ending to this. So if Aitana wants to pretend like the two of you don’t love each other, you’re willing to play her game. 

“How long are you going to do this?”

“As long as she lets me.”

Ona looks like she’s going to blow an aneurysm but follows you to the counter regardless. Despite your silent pleas for her to drop the topic, she doesn’t. “This is going to wreck you when it blows up in your face.”

“Then I won’t let it blow up.” 

Ona swipes the drinks away from your hands before you can grab them. “Listen to me. I love you and I love Aita but the two of you really need to figure this out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sighing, you press a soft kiss against the side of her head. No matter how annoying you find Ona’s constant pestering, you know it’s only coming from a place of love. “Thanks Oni. But I will be okay. Please don’t lose any sleep over this.”

Ona looks like she wants to say more, but she bites her tongue.

Instead, the two of you catch up. You’re happy that Ona’s settling in well in Barcelona, but the downside to her going home is that the two of you no longer get to share every moment together. Ona’s laughing at your reenactment of Leila having to deal with the spider in your shared home when Aitana finally returns.

Her eyes light up when she spots you from across the room, hurriedly waving at you. 

You have to muffle your laughter at her drunken state but smile back to her all the same.

You don’t let it show, but Ona’s words cut deep. 

It’s heavy on your heart when you drop her off later, when Ona has to peel Aitana off of you, promising to get the two of them to bed safely. Her words are still ringing around your head when you get a drunken rambling goodnight text from Aitana when you’re getting ready to catch the redeye home.

You’ve been waiting for Aitana for as long as you remember, and you’ll continue waiting for her until she’s ready. 

Aitana’s everything to you.

So if she wants to keep on pretending, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

Even if it cuts you to the bone.

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Hello! Can I request Wukong crushing on a new member of the Monkie Gang?

Like maybe almost love at first sight but he's trying to hide it and being a lovable dork lol (Gn is fine)

AGDKDH THIS JS SO CUTEE ☹️☹️ also hope u don’t mind this being in a headcanon format!!

Something about you | Sun Wukong x GN!Reader

Relationship: romantic Warnings: None!

You were introduced to the group by MK and Mei, someone whom they met while out and befriended

You were new to the city and excited to meet new friends, so went along with them to hang out with all their friends

At the place, you got introduced to everyone, the last person being Wukong

You greeted him nicely, slyly telling him he was handsome shortly before MK and Mei dragged you away to eat Pigsy’s food

Wukong on the other hand was taken aback

You were so attractive!?!? And you called him attractive? He thought he was going to have an aneurysm.

During the whole get-together, Wukong watched you from afar (Which wasn’t creepy at all)

He couldn’t quite place it, but you set his whole body into tingles, and he felt his fur stand up. Every time you laughed, it would ring in his ears and bounce around in his head for a while. Great Jade, if you laughed at any of his jokes? He might as well be in the Heavens with all the other gods.

Before Wukong could gather the courage to ask for your number, you had to leave, stating that your furniture was at your place. Mk was the one to take you home that day and Wukong swore that the next time there was a function, he would be the one to take you home. 

A couple of days later, Wukong was waiting around for his order from Pigsy’s when he got a knock at the door.

“Ugh, finally. MK, Kid, can you be a little faster next time,” Wukong said as he opened the Temple doors. “I’m starving he-”

“Uhh. Hi?” You say, standing there awkwardly. Wukong stares at you for a moment, it took him a while to process the fact that you were not MK.

“You’re not MK.”

“That I am not.” You laugh, shifting the food in your hand.

“Where is MK? Why are you here?” 

“Doing other orders. I am here because I took the job up, need the cash.” You say with a shrug. You pull out your phone and show him the app Mei had made to help with deliveries. “Anyways, order for Wukong?”

“Uh…Yeah. Thanks, kid,” Wukong says, still looking at the app as he takes the food from your hands. You gave him a small smile as you pressed complete on the order and turned to leave before stopping. You turn back and hand him your phone. He looks down at it then at you, confused. You roll your eyes and open your contacts. 

“Input your number. MK talks about you all the time and says we would get along. I would like to see if that is true.” You explain. 

Safe to say, he wasn’t the one to ask for your number. 

How could you not blame him? You were sweeping him off his feet time and time again, and you weren’t even aware of it!

It was after you left after giving him his order did he realized that he liked you.

With a smile on his face, he gave you five stars and went into his temple to enjoy his food, a pep in his step knowing that it was in your hands. 

Shortly after getting your number, you asked him to hang out. 

He never jumped onto his cloud and sped to the city at the speed he did.

That one hang-out had turned into once a week, to every other day, to every day. At some point, you kinda lived with him, going to his place so often. You would occasionally go with MK when he trained, even getting from some lessons. Other times you went to his place, and he took you there. You were quite familiar with the other monkeys, even bringing some snacks for them (something that Wukong had to tell you to stop since they were beginning to ask for you very often). When Wukong would go to your place, it was mainly to make a quick stop before heading out. 

If you thought Wukong was smooth with his flirting you would be wrong, especially if he fell first.

You are so stunning that any pickup lines that he would use just fall flat. 

He is also very clingy, thinking that if his words fail him, he always has physical affection to woo you. 

Once MK and Mei find out about his feelings for you, they begin to push you two together, planning hangouts before suddenly canceling, leaving just you and Wukong.

Safe to say they aren’t slick with it either (they are both bumbling over Red Son, there is no way that they are going to help Wukong win you over)

After months of schemes failing, MK and Mei had one last trick up their sleeve.

The last scheme that they planned was at one of the yearly festivals. This wasn’t something that they couldn’t just ditch, so they just left you and Wukong alone.

The entire time, Wukong is fumbling his words and making a fool of himself, making you giggle

This would make him feel a little better, knowing that through his poor way of expressing himself, you were finding him amusing.

At the height of the night, shortly before the main event started, you pulled him aside to a quiet place of the festival.

Wukong followed behind you as you dragged him away from the large crowd. It was much quieter wherever you were taking him, the music of the performances now faint. This part of the festival had sparse people, though not empty as there were some couples walking hand in hand or families heading out to leave with their sleeping young in their arms. 

You stopped in the middle of a bridge, which was over a lake that surrounded the venue where the festival was taking place. The moon was shining over the water, reflecting on it and lighting you both up. As Wukong looked at you, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you look under both the sun and moon. 

“Was there a reason you pulled me out here?” 

“Yes. Now we have to wait.”

“Wait? Wait for wha-” Wukong was cut off by the sound of a boom. He turned his head and caught the briefest glimpse of the sparks of fireworks before he felt hands grab at his face. It happened so quickly that Wukong didn’t even register that you had pulled him into a kiss. Once he did, he returned the kiss, equally as excited as he was nervous. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he wrapped his arms around your waist and yours wrapped around his neck. After a moment he pulled away and looked at you, his heart beating so fast in his chest that he could hear it. “You know how long I have been wanting to do that?”

“I do. You weren’t slick, old man.” You laugh before pulling him into another kiss, the fireworks going off behind the both of you.

Safe to say, MK was right.

[obsessionavecdescouteaux]

Murder Fiction: The Embalmer,

As your eyes flutter open, you slowly regain some of your vision. The room appears blurry, and you see doubles of everything, leaving you feeling disoriented. The bright, illuminating lights above you cause you to squint as you struggle to make out your surroundings. Your mouth feels parched, and swallowing is difficult as your tongue and throat are unresponsive. And that’s when it hits you.

You’re completely naked, wrists and ankles bound to my autopsy table, your waist strapped down tightly.

You try to move, but the fentanyl I injected you with has you in paralysis. Unable to rotate your head, your eyes search the room.

I watch you,

I’ve been patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness while admiring your close to lifeless body.

Your eyes skimming the walls, you’ve taken a notice to my tools. I have a nice variety of hammers, pliers, knives, saws, drills and screws,

but don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ve reserved something special just for you.

I step aside to grab my dissection table, still out of your sight. You hear its wheels roll against the basement's concrete floor.

As I draw near, I notice your bloodshot eyes widen, but your breath barely stirs, still shallow from the intoxication.

“Tu es à l'aise?”—Oh, that’s right. You’re a tourist, you don’t know much French, do you?

Rhetorically I ask, “Are you comfortable?”

You are unable to answer, whether it be from the effects of the tranquilizers or from sheer fear. You stare vigilantly at my masked face, trying to discern any hint of emotion or intention.

Smiling, I place a small pillow under your head and neck.

“Is that better?” you remain silent, but something tells you I look familiar. As you try to piece together where you’ve seen me, I remove my gloves and trace your neck with my fingers.

I apply some pressure, searching for your carotid artery. There she is.

“Have you ever seen one of these before?” I point to a machine with multiple tubes protruding.

“This is an embalming machine, and each tube serves a different purpose.”

Your eyes widen, and your stomach drops with the sick realization of the atrocities I’m about to commit against you.

You try to speak, but as tears roll out of your eyes, you let out a faint cry.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. I am going to take excellent care of you. You are comfortable, aren’t you?” I ask while my fingertips gently run up your thigh.

Your cries become more aggressive, but you’re still unable to control your speech.

“This tube is a trocar. I’ll use this as I puncture your vital organs to release their fluids but don’t worry, doll, we will use the second trocar to refill them with embalming fluid,”

You are gaining more mobility now, so you move your head back and forth while you cry.

“No, no, darling, calm down. I won’t be rough with you; you’re in good hands. See?” I raise my hands to show you how clean they are.

I let out a sigh; you won’t stop crying.

“So, Are you ready? Of course, you’re ready. Look at you, all marked up with my Sharpie. I did that while you were unconscious to save us some time. See how considerate I am?”

As I grab my scalpel off the dissection table, you begin to twist your wrists and ankles, hoping to let yourself loose.

Gently, I press the scalpel near your collarbone. You flinch and cry loudly as I puncture you.

“Shh, doll, it’s going to be okay. You’ll be the prettiest corpse in the morgue,” I reassure you.

As I lick your blood off my scalpel, your body is shaking, full of adrenaline, and you begin to twist yourself frantically.

As you try to scoot your strapped down body away from me, I grab the aneurysm hook.

Before I have time to probe you, you manage to speak.

“I know you. You’re the man from the train,”

Surprised by your statement, I stopped right before inserting the hook into the lovely incision you let me make.

“And what makes you so sure of that?” I ask curiously, as I am masked, how could you be certain?

You look at the bookshelf ahead of us, “There, I saw you, reading on the train. Not many people use books or read philosophy,”

I smile at you sweetly.

“Ah, yes, darling. You got me.” I sigh,

Frantically, you begin begging for your life, “Please let me go, I won’t tell anyone, I can’t remember your face, please just let me go!”

I roll up my mask. “See, doll, this is me. Nothing to be afraid of, don’t you remember smiling at me? It would be best if you didn’t smile at strangers. Some may think it as an invitation,”

“You’re sick! You’re a sick monster! People will be searching for me!”

“I know, darling, and they already are, that’s why we must keep going,”

Removing my mask entirely now, I place the aneurysm hook at the entrance of the incision I made. As I hook deep into you, you let out a scream that echoes through my basement.

Your blood sprays against both our faces. The smell of iron fills the room.

As I hook your carotid artery, you gasp for air and continue screaming as I pull it to the surface of the incision.

Your blood is everywhere, and your body is shaking; as I quickly insert my groove hook into your artery, I slide a tube inside of you.

Going into shock, tears gracefully sliding down your face, blood spilling out of you and off of your body. I take a step back to admire your beauty.

Look at you, a beautiful bloody mess.

I begin to lick your blood off your neck and face; you taste so good, your blood so warm for me.

Gently biting your neck, feeling your artery between my lips, I kiss you softly.

“You’re doing so good, baby, you’re such a beautiful doll,”

Your blood is covering my basement floor as it slowly drains out of your weak body.

Barely alive, I puncture your stomach with the trocar attached to the embalming machine.

As I flip on the switch, your body twitches and twists on the table. Your eyes are full of tears, with little life remaining.

Applying low pressure, I slowly drain your blood to keep you barely alive.

The embalming fluid exits the tube and begins to flood your body.

Your gaze widens with surprise, while your hands clench into tight fists.

Your body shakes compulsively, as if you’re having orgasm after orgasm.

Your throat violently contracting, body vibrating as I hold down your shoulder with one hand. My other hand controls the hook and trocar attached to your artery…..slowly but forcefully pumping you with embalming fluids.

A few more seconds of pain, for an eternity of beauty. You’re doing so good for me.

Barely choking now, you can hardly breathe as you’re almost completely drained of all your pretty blood, full of preservatives.

Your lips are tinged with a shade of blue, and your eyes are starting to roll back into your head. You look both beautiful and serene.

As I inject you with embalming fluid, I can’t help but wonder if smiling at me was everything you had expected.

[harryslittlefreakk]

dr. styles

Summary: fratboy!harry is a surgical resident in your class, and he helps you to relieve some stress*

Word count: 1745

Warnings: smutty, oral (f receiving), 18+

A/n: i’ve been watching too much greys anatomy and some kind of lhh/alex karev mash up needed to be written . not proofread!

my masterlist can be found here!

You slumped against the door, too exhausted to even get to bed. Your eyelids were heavy, threatening to close if you blinked for too long. You knew being a surgical resident would be exhausting, but this case was eating at you in a way you rarely experienced. Your patient was having seizures every few hours and you had no idea why. Pages of medical journals were swimming around your mind, but you couldn’t find anything that made any sense.

“D’ya need to be carried to bed, princess?” A voice spoke up from one of the bunks. Harry Styles, your bastard colleague. He was one of the men who got into medicine for the glory, for fun stories to tell women who thought he was a hero. He was one of the most arrogant and selfish people you’d ever met. “No, dickwad,” you retorted, too tired to be truly annoyed. Your feet dragged towards a bed on the opposite side of the room, suddenly hating how small the on-call room felt. You liked to keep a bigger distance, for your professional (and personal) sake. If anything was going to get you cut from this program, it wouldn’t be him.

Harry rolled over to look at you, flipping his shoulder-length hair out of his face. You hated his hair as much as his personality. He was forever whipping it around, running a hand through the top, generally fiddling with it in the hopes that young, impressionable women would appear. He was handsome, sure. If you met him at a bar you’d probably lust over him for the night, but he wasn’t anything to write home about. You groaned, covering your face with your forearm as you felt his eyes on you. “What?” He asked, feigning innocence. You rolled your eyes and turned away, slamming a pillow over your head. You needed to sleep so badly, but between your patient and Harry’s presence, you would need to count at least 2 billion sheep.

You only turned back around when you felt a great big lump weighing down the end of the mattress. “What now?” You snapped, glaring up at the man now sitting on your bed. “Jeez, Anna is pissed today too. There’s too many women in this damn hospital, you guys probably all synced up or something,” Harry scoffed, but kept his ass firmly planted where it was. “Fuck off, Harry.” You tried to kick at him, but he caught your ankle with one quick grab. “Seriously, I’m not in the mood. I can’t figure out this case and I need to sleep. Go away,” you half-shouted, now wishing you’d never even tried to rest.

“Tell me about your patient and I’ll leave you alone,” Harry offered, somewhat dejectedly. You sat up and told him all about her seizures, her medical history, everything you knew. He simply shrugged in response. You rubbed harshly at your temples, breathing a sigh of relief as he stood up. But Harry only stalked over to the door, locked it, and then resumed his position on your bed. “Harry, I’m not joking with you. I really need my rest,” you groaned. He knew exactly how to rub you the wrong way. “You’re a real bitch when you’re tired, y’know that?” he replied, coming to lay down behind you. You pushed yourself as far into the wall as you could, not bothering to even ask what he thought he was doing. “Hey, relax. I’m not trying anything. I just know it’s easier to sleep when someone’s with you,” Harry told you, wriggling his forearm under your head. Your body relaxed slightly at this. He was right. You always slept better with someone next to you, and these beds were hardly known for their comfort.

“She could have an aneurysm, y’know.” You barely heard what Harry had mumbled. Turning around to face him, you asked him to repeat himself. “An aneurysm,” you repeated. “That’s it! She had a fall recently. Didn’t even get checked out but that could explain everything!” You were laughing now, so relieved to at least have an idea of what was going on. “Oh Harry, I could-“

“You could what? Huh?” he smirked, glancing from your eyes to your lips. Harry had never wanted to admit how hot he found you, even at your meanest you were still one of the prettiest girls in the world to him. He stroked a soft hand across your cheek, leaning closer as he muttered, “do this?”

His lips met yours softly at first, waiting for you to shove him away. Instead, you opened your mouth wider for him, slipping your tongue past his teeth. He moaned against your mouth as your tongues battled for dominance, a fire brewing deep in your core. Harry pulled you on top of him, taking handfuls of your soft ass in his hands. “Maybe I should solve your cases more often,” he smirked against your mouth, deepening the kiss. “Maybe you should,” you replied, flipping the two of you around so Harry’s big body was above you. You rushed to pull each others clothes off, separating your mouths for as little time as possible.

You’d never realised what an incredible body he had under his scrubs. A chiselled six pack, tattoos littering his torso, and a deep v-line poking out of his boxers. You traced his inked laurels sitting just above the band of his pants with a careful fingertip, before dragging your hands up his body. Your kisses were hot and heavy now, saliva sitting on both of your swollen bottom lips. Harry pushed you back, pressing a hand to your belly to make sure you were flush with the bed, before hooking a long finger inside of your panties. He looked down at you as if asking for permission, and when you nodded, he slipped a digit inside of your opening. “So wet for me already baby girl,” he moaned, withdrawing his finger and licking it clean of your juices. You squirmed under him, lusting after the way his tongue moved skilfully around his fingers. “Harry,” you panted, “more please.”

“And here I was thinking you didn’t like me.” Harry’s words came out in a singsong tune, his trademark smirk nestled between two dimples. He pulled your panties down your legs, sliding down the bed as his arms moved, before nudging your inner thighs with his nose. Before you’d even fully opened yourself up to him, Harry was getting a taste of your pretty pussy. He lapped at your folds, moaning into you with every flick of his tongue. Your hands found his hair almost instantly, grabbing and clawing for something to hold onto. A loud groan tumbled out of your mouth as his lips moved to suckle on your clit. You’d never imagined someone’s mouth could bring you this much pleasure, let alone this mouth. “Fuck, harry,” you moaned, watching his head dive between your legs. “Gotta be quiet baby,” he reminded you, moving a hand up to brush your mouth. You nodded, whimpering under his fingers. He slipped a digit or two from his free hand under his tongue, moving inside you in a beckoning motion. Your back arched, feeling your core tighten. “I’m gonna come Harry, I’m-“

He shushed you as you panted. “I know baby. I’m gonna get y’there, okay?” His fingers and his tongue worked faster now, the idea of your sweet come on his lips almost too much to bear. Your head lulled back as your body began to shake, thighs closing in around his head. His long moan vibrating against your pussy tipped you over the edge. You pulled a pillow over your mouth as you cried out his name, hips bucking into his hand as he rode you through your orgasm.

You collapsed back into the bed, panting heavily. That was the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. “Needed that, sweet girl?” Harry cooed, hands snaking up your body. His face was covered in your juices, his lips glistening with your come. As you were about to pull him in for a kiss, he flipped you onto your front. “My turn now,” he drawled in your ear, pushing his boxers down his thighs. You heard the familiar snap of a condom before feeling the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. His hand landed a heavy blow on your asscheek before he peppered it with kisses. You were delirious already from the sheer thickness of just his tip. You pushed your hips up towards him fervently, ready to have your mind blown again. Harry pushed into you in one thrust, pulling your asscheeks apart to watch himself enter you. “Fuck Harry, you’re so big,” you whined, his huge cock splitting you in half. He pulled out slow, moaning as he watched himself re-enter your tight pussy. Your walls were clenched around him, pulling and pushing your come along his shaft. The sounds were obscene.

Harry reached around and gripped your throat, his free hand steadying himself on the bed behind you. He fucked into you fast, months of built up annoyance and rivalry shooting pleasure deep inside of you. His cock reached sweet spots you didn’t even know you had, you were full to the brim with him. “You feel so fucking good princess,” he groaned, leaning down to bite at your earlobe. “Fuck, Harry! Stay there, stay there, please,” you begged, the angle of his thick tip perfectly hitting your g-spot. He thrust into you faster and harder, fingers digging into the sides of your throat. Your moans were strained, the tightness sending a rush of blood into your head. Before you could even register it, you were coming again. Soaking his shaft in thick, creamy come. Harry watched it ooze out of you, settling at the base of his cock as you whined and squirmed underneath him. He’d never seen anything so sexy. His pace was slipping now, fucking your come back into you in a slower, sloppier fashion. Feeling your opening tighten around him as you came was too much for Harry to take. He cried your name as he came violently, legs shaking under him. Harry collapsed beside you, rubbing a hand over your lower back, after throwing the condom into the bin.

“Should we get some sleep now, sweet girl?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. You were already snoring sweetly, exhausted after your two big climaxes.

[kinardsevan]

several sentence sunday

i did a teaser of the mini i've finished (but not posted b/c i'm not entirely satisfied with it yet), but @marvelousbuckley tagged me so ofc i have to give you more.

here's what's coming next in it's gonna be alright (piece by piece) [aka the aneurysm fic]

-

“What was that whole speech you gave me,” Evan says softly, tugging on the collar of Tommy’s hoodie to pull him in closer. Tommy leans down over him, placing light kisses over his lips and cheeks. “When they put me under before?” 

“Don’t really remember,” Tommy tells him between kisses. “But you said you were going to marry the hell out of me after all of this, and I’m holding you to that.” 

Evan lets out a small laugh, pulling Tommy's face up enough that he can see him. They stare at each other for a moment as he brushes his thumbs over the tears on Tommy’s face. 

“No goodbyes,” he murmurs, shifting his hand down brushing his thumb over Tommy’s bottom lip. “Because we’re not finished.” 

“No,” Tommy affirms, his voice strained. He sniffs as Evan brushes another tear off his cheek, and Tommy gulps. “I'd do this all over again, no matter the outcome, as long as it meant I got to love you.” 

“Stop,” Evan rasps at him. “Not going anywhere this time, either. I’m coming back.” 

“I know,” Tommy says, trying his best to sound insistent as he presses a kiss to Evan’s thumb. "But I still want you to know.” He pauses for a moment, staring at Evan and biting hard on the inside of his bottom lip as his own chest rises and falls slowly with shallow breaths, trying to maintain his composure. A smile pulls across his face as more tears fall. “Who would’ve fucking thought I’d find the whole damn universe inside of a pair of blue eyes.” 

Evan furrows his brow and lets out a small grunt, pulling Tommy back into him, kissing him roughly. It’s not sweet in the slightest, done out of desperation and hunger, from a need to make sure the other man knows he’s right there with him. 

“You made me whole,” Evan whispers as he presses his forehead against Tommy’s, holding tightly to his face. “I didn’t even know what I was missing, and you lit me up like the fucking Fourth of July. Fuck all those commentaries on drowning and being saved. It was like half of me didn’t even exist until you kissed me. Like-like I was always there but in the dark. And then you, you came along with your stupid helicopter and dry fucking humor about ‘we’re probably gonna die anyway’, and I made sense. I made sense to me. Everything I never understood about why I could never settle, why I never fit.” 

A small squeak comes out of the back of Tommy’s throat as Evan pushes him up enough to see him again. “You found the universe?” He blinks away a tear as he smiles up at Tommy. “I was a shell of who I am now before you. I am who I am today because of you.” 

Tommy shakes his head, always so quick to dismiss any credit turned his way, but Evan’s grip is tight. 

“Yes,” he insists, leaning up off the pillow under his head toward Tommy, drawing his gaze back to him. “You…” He laughs at himself and rolls his eyes. “You met me in the dark, and you fucking lit me up.” 

Tommy stares at him for a beat longer, like he’s questioning whether he deserves the credit of Evan’s statement, and then leans into him, kissing him once more, brushing his hand down the top of Evan’s curls. 

“I love you,” he chokes out between kisses. “So god-damn much. Today, tomorrow, the rest of my life.” 

“Through the universe and across the skies,” Evan whispers back to him.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends - Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity, descriptions of dead bodies, bugs

A/N: Enjoy part 2 babes!!!!

Part 1

The worst part about a crime scene was not seeing the dead bodies, it was smelling them as soon as you entered the house. However, seeing them was not exactly great either. 

This would have been much better advice than Derek telling you seeing a dead body for the first time can be a bit freaky. 

You don’t really know why you agreed to go to the crime scene, but God did you fucking regret it now. Your eyes were starting to water and your hands were ever so slightly shaking. It was clear to you that all the profilers around you knew what you felt. Even if you were hard to read, they would have known just by the way you stopped talking. 

Hotch gently put his hand on your arm, causing you to jump slightly and give him a small smile. He led you both to the kitchen to sit down for a moment, giving you a moment away from the whole scene. 

Looking at the pictures was so different than seeing it in person. Someone actually dipped their hand in the neck of someone else and wrote on the wall in their blood. And they were cold and calculated enough to put gloves on first so there was no DNA left behind. Fucking psychopath. 

“Y/n?” 

You looked up from your hands and let out a curt laugh when a tear fell down your cheek. “Shit. Sorry.” Quickly wiping it away, you looked back down at your hands. “Sorry, I just….”

“It’s a lot.” 

“Why–why do you need me here Hotch.”

He nodded and looked back at the living room. “Because we have a feeling the way he’s positioning the bodies might help us figure something else out, and you are our resident expert.” 

“Don’t let Reid hear you say that. He might just have an aneurysm.” You muttered, a small smile on your face. 

It got Hotch to smile in response. “He knows that you know more about this than him. Don’t worry. Can you get back in there or would you like us to take pictures and send them to you?” 

You shook your head and stood up. “I’m fine. Just an initial shock I guess. Thank you, Hotch.” 

The two of you walked back into the living room, and you were still grateful that you decided to forgo lunch, not giving your stomach any ammo in case it decided to evacuate your body. 

The scene was gruesome. The wife’s body was lying on the floor in front of the fireplace arms above her head as if she was lifting something. Her blonde hair had been stained red, almost purposefully with blood, and braided into two long braids that came down the front of her chest. The only indication of any blood on her body, besides the gaping wound on her neck, was that the palms of her hands were coated in now-dried blood. 

“It’s um.” You closed your eyes for a second. “It’s John Singer Sargent.” 

“The famous painter?” Spencer turned to look at you from across the room where he had been talking to Prentiss. 

You nodded. “His, uh. Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth, where she um, lifts the crown onto her head…It’s massive, like seven feet tall, four feet wide, at the Tate Britain in London.” 

“What does this have to do with her.” Derek gestured to the corpse on the floor. Spencer, who noted that you really couldn’t take your eyes off of the body, pulled out his phone and quickly found the painting you were referencing. 

“Oh wow,” Morgan muttered. “He even dressed her in the same shade of green…”

“It’s one of the most famous portrayals of Lady Macbeth out there. Her dress was decorated with….” Your eyes widened. 

“With what.” Hotch walked over to you and looked between you and the body, and then over to Spencer. “What was her dress decorated with.” 

Spencer quickly made his way over to you and kneeled next to the wife. “Oh my god.” 

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Derek crossed his arms, unamused by the lack of information being spread around. 

“Beetles. Ellen Terry’s dress was decorated with the wings of beetles.” You spoke up.  _________________________________________________________

Spencer had volunteered to drive you back to the station so that you could look at the actual bodies of the previous victims to see if you could find more details that they had missed. 

“This one, Spencer, she’s uh…” You bit your lip, looking at the first set of victims. “This was the Romeo and Juliet one right? Because she’s draped on top of him like every production and painting of Romeo and Juliet I’ve ever seen. If we have to go specifics then I would say probably “The Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets” by Leighton. And the um…” You placed that image down and hunted for another one. 

“And this one is the Hamlet one since she’s positioned exactly like Ophelia in Sir John Everett Milais’ painting. The Pre-Raphelite one with all the flowers. Look at the sheet the unsub placed her on, it’s completely floral, and did the autopsy come back saying she had drowned, or was drowned and then resuscitated or something?” 

Spencer nodded. He was honestly in awe of you. The way you reset your head when you left the crime scene. The urgency you had developed. The sheer breadth of knowledge you possessed just continued to make him fall head first for you. Not that he could ever do anything about it since you lived in London half of the time, and he was always traveling around the US with no sort of set schedule. 

“And…uh, where is it.” 

“What are you looking for?” 

“The one with the, uh, um. What the fuck was that guy’s name?” 

Spencer looked at you with a furrowed brow. “Are you talking about Caesar?” 

“YES. God. I always forget his name. Portia. She swallowed hot coals to kill herself right? But in the picture…” You pulled the photo out of the depths of the pile. “There’s a wound on the wife’s leg. Her cause of death was bleeding out, right? With the way she’s draped on the bed, and her husband is in the other room, it’s not the show. I think it’s the baroque piece of Portia by, uh, um…oh shit what was her name….” 

Watching you work literally made Spencer’s heart want to bleed. He would actually propose to you on the spot if it wasn’t an extremely insensitive time to do so, and also you weren’t even dating. It was baffling to him that he had only known you for three days.

“Elisabetta Sirani!” You pulled out your phone and looked up the picture, and lo and behold, it matched the body. 

“I think that it’s an art student, or someone heavily involved in art. Some of these are famous paintings, sure, but others? There’s a history there Spence. I only know these paintings because of my Ph.D. Sirani is not as common an artist as she should be.”

He sputtered at the nickname but quickly recovered. “I’ll call Hotch and let him know.” 

You smiled at him and he smiled right back at you. 

There was too long of a pause. It shouldn’t have happened at all really. But the sheriff knocked on the door, misinterpreting the stare for something more aggressive. “I don’t mean to break up whatever yelling session is about to happen, but the autopsy report came back…those were real wings.”

You looked back over at Spencer. “Tell him to get the team back. You guys need to give the profile.”  _____________________________________________________________

“I just don’t understand where someone even gets that many beetle wings. It’s not like you can order them online and have them shipped to your house.” 

“That tells you how premeditated this was then.” 

“Woman, where have you been all our lives.” 

You laughed and Derek smiled over at you. 

“No, seriously Y/n. I never thought Art history could be so…”

“Violent?” You guessed, smirking slightly and shaking her head. “There’s a painting I think yo should look up Derek. Well a few of them—Saturn Devouring His Son by Goya is a favorite of mine, and then Judith Beheading Holofernes by Virmiglio has a shit ton of blood in it…or if you want some heartbreak, I am personally fond of Caleron’s Broken Vows, or anything portraying the Kiss of Franchesca and Paulo.” 

“I just don’t get how you can store all of this in your head.” Derek pulled up to the college campus and flashed his badge at the campus security, who let him through the gate. 

“Well, I don’t know how to take apart a gun, and then put it back together, let alone fire it. We all have our different skills.” 

This caused Derek to laugh. “Touche.” 

The two of you pulled up to the building with the offices of the Art History faculty and looked around the campus. “This is a massive campus, Derek. I’m pretty sure they have an MA and a Ph.D. in Art History beyond undergrad…”

“Believe it or not, this is not our first murderous college student case.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Great. It’s good to know the youth of America are doing alright.” 

That caused Derek to crack a smile. “Well. Let’s go find this professor and see what we can find out.”  

The trek across campus brought you back to your college days. It was kind of nice to see that kids still hung out on the lawns and with one another, not just staring at their phones and laptops all of the time. 

The both of you made your way up to the stairs of this slightly blocky building. It felt a bit like a museum with the amount of artifacts that they kept on the first and second floors, but as you walked through the fifth floor offices, your face started to fall. 

“Derek what was the name of the professor we were supposed to talk to?” You whispered, slowly moving to a stop. 

He turned and looked at you. “uh…Doctor Kolek, why?” 

You pointed to the door you stopped in front of. 

It was slightly ajar and looked as if the lock had been busted. Morgan quickly, pulled out his gun and shoved you behind him, calling out the woman’s name as you both held your breath. 

When there was no response, Derek slowly pushed the door open. Her office was a wreck, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Papers were scattered, there were frames on the floor, and a dent in the wall as if someone had tried to throw something at someone. You called out the woman’s name again, only to gasp. Derek turned and faced the same way you were looking. 

Doctor Kolek was face down on the floor. There was no blood around her, and the room didn’t smell like death, so that was a good sign, but she was clearly unconscious. Derek quickly rolled her over and checked for her vitals. 

“She’s still breathing. Call a medic.” 

You scrambled to pull out your phone, dialing 911. 

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Rainy days

Will I edit this now that I’m posting it here? NOPE

Pairing: Steve x Bucky x Reader

Word Count: Hmmm I don't even remember when I wrote this

Notes: Man we aint gon talk about when I'm posting this

Today was a shit day. Brad from accounting spilled his coffee on your brand new white shirt, your boss called you in to tell you the deadline had been moved up a week and a half, there was no toilet paper in the bathroom and to top it off you’d grabbed the wrong lunch that morning and ended up with a leftover container of plain spaghetti noodles instead of your onigiri you’d make last night.

“This day literally could not get worse. I truly don’t think it could like what could actually happen” You grumbled as you got into your car, slamming the door shut. You pushed the break and hit the button.

Nothing.

You pushed the break and the button again.

Nothing.

Famous last words as they say.

“Are you shitting me!?!?” You screamed at the top of your lungs, you kicked your feet and slammed your hands into the steering wheel

“What did I do! What did I possibly do to deserve any of this!” You screamed to no one as you sobbed in your car. Was it a bit dramatic? Yes. Did the sky decide to just open the flood gates at that exact moment? Also Yes.

You stared blankly at the rain, watching it stream down the windows. It was heavy and unforgiving as thunder cracked above you, you looked down at the heels on your feet, your brand new light pink ones. The weatherman said it was supposed to be a sunny fall day. It was supposed to nice and cool and dry. Comfortable even.

You laid your head on the steering wheel and just sat there, listening to the rain fall. If you weren’t so broken it would have been peaceful. You tried the button one more time and it still wouldn’t come on.

You reached blindly for your phone and grabbed it, punching the favorites button and holding it up to your ear.

“Hey Doll, are you on your way home yet?”

You sniffled and shook your head, not that Bucky could see you.

His tone changed quickly to worry “Y/N? Where are you?” You heard his voice a little further away, he was already searching for your location.

“You’re still at work? You got off 20 minutes ago is everything okay?” You can hear him moving around knowing he’s already ready to head out of the door and take out anyone he needs to.

“Can you guys please come pick me up.” Your voice is wobbly and small “My car broke down in the parking lot. I’m okay I’m safe I just need you to come get me.”

“We’re already in the car, we’ll be there in…what seven? Eight minutes?”

You hear Steve’s voice “Like seven”

“Yeah seven minutes okay? Keep the doors locked and stay alert”

You smirked a bit. Your workplace was 15 minutes from the house. 22 ish if the lights were in a mood. “I promise I will, see you soon.”

Steve and Bucky arrived in exactly seven minutes. You heard the tail end of Steve’s conversation as they approached the car, umbrella’s in hand. “Okay we’ll wait… thanks for the lights” Tony was a sweetheart sometimes. Bucky unlocked the doors and opened your side up, he leaned against it as he held an umbrella.

“Your escorts have arrived” he smiles a bit at you. Steve is behind him frowning, you know you look awful right now your makeup ruined your shirt ruined. But it’s not really meaning much now that they’re here. Bucky unbuckles your seatbelt for you and holds open his arms.

“C’mere doll..” his voice is soft as he hugs you to his chest, Steve comes around and squishes you between the two of them.

“You’re okay baby girl we’re here now”

You cry into Bucky’s chest as they hold you, Steve pulls you away and guides you to their car, opening the door for you. Tony had finally taken away Steve’s tiny ass car privileges. He bought him a truck fit for two super soldiers and created an entire course for Steve to practice driving with it. You remember relaxing with Pepper in lawn chairs while sipping on drinks as Tony had a whole aneurysm teaching him to drive. Bucky sat in the tailgate occasionally breaking up fights but sipping on his own drink as well.

Steve got in the truck after you, pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly to his chest, you melted into his ridiculously comfy chest, his large pecks plush and comforting. He chuckled and stroked your hair, kissing your head.

“You warm enough? Do we need to turn on the heat?”

“Trust me I do not need the heat with you furnaces in here”

Bucky started up the truck and turned on his music, something soft, something he’d play often when you couldn’t sleep. You never knew what it was but it was nice, something from another time.

“Tony should be here any minute now and then we can leave” Steve says as he puts his legs up, cradling you against his body. You lay there for a bit, still sniffling against Steve’s chest. He chuckles as he keeps stroking your hair

“Come on beautiful, it’ll be okay.”

It’s quiet for a bit as you all wait, Bucky and Steve making light conversation and you chiming in a couple times but not really saying much. They’re a little worried, they know it was just a bad day but they can’t help it.

Tony arrives 15 minutes later all ready to take your car away and work it over and see what happened. Bucky gets out and handles everything for you. The car gets loaded onto a truck and taken away to his workshop. Tony reassures you from his own car that he’ll send a car for you first thing in the morning and that you’ve been called out of work for the next week. You look out of the window and smile

“Tony thanks really but I can’t be out that long I have a project to work on and-“

Tony puts his hand up “Don’t worry I’ll have someone else on that tomorrow. I bought the company! You just rest up kid!”

Your mouth drops and before you can even protest he speeds away and Steve yanks you back down into his lap. Bucky starts up the truck and starts on his way, driving the three of you back to your shared apartment.

Once back home Bucky starts a hot shower for you and Steve goes into the kitchen immediately. He says he’s got a surprise for you for dinner and to go take a nice long shower. Bucky surprisingly keeps his hands to himself, making sure you’re nice and clean and taken care of, giving you soft kisses and little caresses.

“I know what’ll make you feel better” Bucky comes up behind you as you’re putting your hair serum in, he kisses your bare shoulders softly and puts his arms around you, watching you comb your fingers through your hair.

“What’s that?” You ask as you look at him in the mirror. He pulls open one of the drawers in front of you and takes a bottle of lube out. Your eyes go wide as he leads you into the bedroom, letting your towel drop.

“I know you’re tired and hungry so while Steve is cooking for you let’s just cuddle okay?” He pushes you back on the bed carefully

“Why do we need that?” You point at the bottle “for cuddling”

“Because it’s your favorite kind of cuddling.” He jokes as he takes off his boxers he’d put on when he went to see if Steve needed help, you bite your lip as you look at him, trying to keep your eyes on his. He smirks as he pours lube into his hand, coating his cock in it as he rubs it slowly. You drool a bit as he gets nice and hard, his cock glistening in the light. You squeeze your thighs together and he leans down, giving you a kiss as he eases you onto your back. He pours more lube onto his fingers and spreads your lips, rubbing it up and down teasing you before carefully sinking his fingers in, they go in easily and your hips buck. He chuckles as you fuck your self on his fingers, moaning softly as you tighten that coil in your belly, winding it up tighter and tighter. His thumb rubs your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out and you moan louder, your hips losing control as you cum over his fingers, he keeps pumping you through your orgasm, grinning wickedly as he watches the way your body reacts to his fingers

“Good girl, cum for me so I can make sure you’re wet enough.” He praises as you lay there, your body jello, your legs trembling. He pulls you up on the bed so your head is on the pillows. He strokes himself a few more times and gets on the bed with you, kissing your hair. He wipes his hands on a napkin from the bed and throws it into the trash can

“Nice shot” you giggle and he smiles, adjusting your body again so you’re facing him. He grabs your leg, lifting it up and positions himself between your legs, his head teasing your entrance as he pushes into you. You let out a long, low moan as he fills you to the hilt. He puts your leg back down and you adjust yourself a bit, your head nuzzled into his neck.

“Thanks Doll” he whispers in your ear as he pulls a blanket over the two of you and wraps his arms around you. You’re practically purring as he rubs your back while kissing your head. “We can stay just like this. You take a nap, you deserve it.

“You want to stay l-like this?” You blush as your cunt squeezes around his cock. He nods as he groans softly, adjusting himself again.

“You need a nap sugar and I know this always makes you feel better… let me do this for you”

“Oh and this has nothing to do with how it makes you feel?” You smirk as you snuggle into him again, closing your eyes.

“I didn’t say it didn’t make me feel amazing” he chuckles, pushing his long hair back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sigh “what’s there to talk about? Today was shit. I can’t believe Brad wasn’t looking where he was going he never looks where he’s going! A-and he ruined that new shirt you and Steve got me I can’t stand that asshole! I have absolutely no idea what the hell is wrong with my car-“

“Tony’s handling that” He interrupts and you smile

“Do I need to pick the color?”

“Yes and if you’d like a specific model let him know.” He chuckles as you roll your eyes, adjusting again. You move your hips a little, rolling them on his cock and he looks at you, raising his eyebrow

“He doesn’t have to do that… I can just get it fixed.” You ignore the look he’s giving you and keep gently rolling your hips.

“It’s not often an Avenger gets a happy ending Y/N… let alone two. Let him take care of you. You know how much he loves you”

You run your fingers through his fluffy hair and smile “Maybe we can invite him and Pepper over sometime for dinner”

Bucky nods, kissing your neck gently. “Yeah I think he’d like that..” He moans in your ear as you keep moving your hips on his cock, it’s not enough to make him cum but it’s enough to keep him nice and hard inside you. You feel him, warm and thick, filling up your insides. You can feel the way your tight hole stretches around him, his balls pressed against you he’s so deep. They’re so full and firm against you, you can’t help but dream about them exploding inside you, breeding your tight cunt like he loves to do.

“Are you feeling any better?” Bucky asks, his voice husky as you reach down to rub his balls between your legs. Your breath hitches as you feel them

“Y-yeah I think I am”

You're just starting to massage his balls when there’s a knock at the door. Steve stands in the doorway, in just an apron, and your mouth drops wide open.

“S-Steve?” Your voice cuts out

“I thought it would cheer you up!” He grins widely as he brings a tray into the bedroom. Bucky pulls out sighing loudly and you whine as you sit up without him. He sits up and picks your waist up, using the metal arm, it sends a chill through your hot body and sits you right back down on his cock. You cry out and he chuckles, holding your hips in place.

“I hope you’re hungry, I made lasagna” he sets the tray in front of you and Bucky but neither of you can concentrate on anything but him. God that man’s ass was something else. You can practically feel Bucky throbbing inside you at the sight of him, you’re both drooling over him.

“I think I’m hungry for something else” You mumble and Bucky nods against your shoulder

“Definitely hungry for something else”

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Medical Attention

Note: this is 2009 Ghoap inspired by a conversation with @spottlessspectre. I think it’s fitting I listened to El Tango De Roxanne during the angsty bits :3

It was supposed to be easy. The mission was meant to be easy.

Captain Mactavish and Lieutenant Riley were meant to get in, get information, maybe plant a bomb or two, and get out.

They got in perfectly fine but found that their intel on the base they were infiltrating may be a slight bit wrong when presented with the tens of guards and plenty of weapons that the base had. Something they severely underestimated.

They made a mistake going in there.

They were in a snowy climate, dressed as heavily as possible yet still able to comfortably wear their tac vests and necessary equipment and be able to move around, thermals helping wonderfully with that.

Getting in was easy, getting to the main room of the warehouse and seeing approximately 50 more people than they were expecting nearly gave Captain Mactavish an aneurysm right then and there.

In the act of trying to leave and calling the mission a bust, the two got discovered and a shout was given before bullets were flying.

Riley and Mactavish tried to give themselves an opportunity to retreat, killing those behind and to the sides, making a break for it at every chance they can, hiding behind crates of unknown materials.

They’re almost at the door to the hallway out before it goes tits up.

Mactavish runs towards the door as Riley covers him, then takes shelter to cover Riley’s retreat.

They don’t notice the grenade thrown before it goes off.

It pushes Riley closer to the doorway, taking his breath but seemingly not touching him as he bounces up from where he was thrown and hightails it, grabbing Mactavish and pushing him in front of him.

The corridor is filled with footsteps cutting off their escape route, around a bend they need to pass to get out the door and to the RV site.

With a quick breath and a whispered “in here” Mactavish drags a heaving Riley into a small supply closet barely big enough to fit them.

Hushing Riley and purposefully calming his own heavy breaths, Mactavish listens as those that were chasing them and those that had been coming towards them meet in the middle and debate where he and his lieutenant went. One suggests their supply closet only to be berated by at least five others who tell him it’s stupid to go into a supply closet barely fit to handle the brooms and mops they had shoved in there.

To his relief, none of them choose to check the closet and instead split off to check the warehouse top to bottom, debating who goes where long enough for his adrenaline to lower itself and his breath to calm remarkably.

Once those outside of the closet retreat to go check, Mactavish turns around to tell Riley they should leave only to be met with a pale, shaking, and still heavily breathing lieutenant.

“Mate, are you ok?” His concern rises when Riley meets his eyes and gasps “I’m sorry” only to collapse forward into his captain’s arms, shaking and gasping out repetitive “I didn’t realize”s.

”Riley? What’s wrong? Lieutenant?” His panic rises as he maneuvers them to sitting in the stuffed closet against the door, pulling the string for the light as he pulls Riley onto his lap.

“My back” is all that’s muttered between gasps as Riley lets himself collapse into his captain, trusting him to help.

Losing his words and getting Riley to bring his arms around his neck, Mactavish looks over Riley’s shoulder to what of his back he can see. He’s confronted with a slowly spreading red spot on Riley’s jacket and a rather large piece of wood from the blown up crates from earlier on his lower back, thankfully missing the spine.

“We have to take off your vest, I can’t see well past it. Your jacket too, there’s a rather large piece of wood. Can you do that for me? Help me take your vest and jacket off?”

His words are met with a couple of gasps of pain and a nod against his shoulder.

He gets Riley up, helping him position his hands on Mactavish’s shoulders for stability. Looking at him up close, Mactavish concludes that he’s far too pale, but not enough for significant blood loss yet.

Unclipping the tac vest and taking it off is the easy part, it doesn’t take much moving on Riley’s part. The jacket becomes a problem as soon as Mactavish unzips it and tries to get it off of his lieutenant’s shoulders.

Trying to be as helpful as possible, Riley tries to move his shoulders downwards to make it easier to relieve him of his jacket, only to be met with pain flooding through his already tired body from the movement.

With a whimper of pain, Riley collapses against Mactavish’s shoulder and nearly blacks out, tiny whimpers joining the now heavy gasps as his captain cradles his head and shushes him, apologizing for the pain.

After Riley catches his breath and stops making such painful noises, Mactavish tells him not to move and just let him do it. Getting the jacket off his shoulders is hard to do without him moving, but they get through it without tweaking the injury again until it comes to getting the jacket off from around the shrapnel.

Mactavish grabs the small but packed first aid kit Riley stores in his vest and grabs scissors, apologizing for ruining the jacket before he cuts around the shrapnel.

Once the jacket is away from Riley, Mactavish gets him to put his arms around his neck again by pulling them up towards where they were earlier. Riley goes with no complaint or comment, to the concern of Mactavish who also notes his shakes turning into shivers of cold quickly due to the lack of his jacket.

“I’m going to feel it, see if it’s safe to pull out so we can patch it up, yeah?”

It’s a simple whisper and said right next to Riley’s ear. It causes him to bury his head between his own arm and Mactavish’s neck, nodding.

Prodding the wound and seeing what he can of it from his position while cursing the size of the closet, he determines it to be safe to pull. Relief pulses through Mactavish at this because a wound like this would have been hell to try to get Riley out with. And he would be getting him out no matter what.

Mactavish tells Riley what he’s doing as he prepares to pull the wood and prepares gauze to pack the wound until they can get out far enough for what stitches may be necessary.

Giving his last warning, Mactavish pulls the wood as quickly but softly as he can, making sure it doesn’t tug too painfully. Easy enough with the blood soaking it to his chagrin.

As he pulls, Riley buries gasps and whimpers of pain into his neck, instinctively pushing his body closer to Mactavish’s to try to escape the pain, only to find nowhere to go.

Once the shrapnel is cleared, Mactavish takes what smaller pieces out that he can see from his position with sterilized tweezers, ignoring the tears sliding down his neck and tickling his chest and back as they pool under his shirt from Riley’s position buried deep to keep himself quiet.

He shushes him every once in a while with assurances that it’ll be ok.

After getting what he could see, Mactavish packs the wound, cleaning up what blood he can see around the wound and packing more gauze above the skin to keep a thick layer between the wound and the air, Mactavish grabs bandages. He has Riley put his hands on his shoulders again and starts wrapping them around Riley’s torso to keep the gauze in place, ignoring how badly he’s shaking and the redness of his eyes beyond the mask.

Once he’s done with that, Mactavish packs up and lets Riley pull himself together, helping him put his torn jacket and tac vest back on. Mactavish pulls a stim out of his own vest and holds it up for Riley to see. At a nod from the now composed man, he injects it into his right thigh and drags them both into a standing position to wait for it to kick in fully.

Hearing nothing right outside the door and determining it to be safe to move, Riley back to his old self with his gun in his hands, ready to go as the stim hits him, Mactavish gestures for them to leave, turning off the closet light right before they exit it.

To their relief, they make it to the RV point with no more sightings of those from the warehouse and get a medic to take a look at Riley. The medic chooses to pack the wound again and fix it properly at the hospital back on base.

They get their information two weeks later when they take more people in and demolish the forces within the warehouse, taking the information freely then blowing up the place to cover their tracks.

[batarella]

Bruce's Bathtime - Batfamily Sitcom

Bruce's mistake was thinking he could have a peaceful night in the bath on his day off when his manor is full of kids who share one brain.

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE I LOVE YOU AND IM SORRY I DISAPPEARED BUT I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING SWEET FOR YOU TO ENJOY. THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY "BATH" BY SAM AND MICKEY ON YOUTUBE.

WORDS: 1.7K

WARNINGS: NONE. IT'S WHOLESOME AND SWEET.

MASTERLIST

——-

Crime rates were always at an all-time low in time for the Superbowl.

Which meant Batman gets a day off. Duke was the only one on patrol that night. Alfred spent half an hour convincing him not to spend the night at the cave.

“Master Bruce, the bath has been drawn and I’ve taken the liberty of using the expensive lavender bath salts so you would not like to waste it.”

“You’re right, Alfred. I’m a billionaire and I find the fifty-dollar lavender salts a waste to not use.”

“Just get in the bath, Master Wayne. Just thirty minutes of quiet shall do you good. I’ve set an alarm.”

Since when did Bruce start working for him?

He did as told anyway. Bruce closed the bathroom door and stripped off his clothes to get in the tub. There were so many callouses in his body, he barely felt just how burning the temperature was.

It was just a minute in there when the first knock woke him from drifting off.

“Bruce?”

What the hell is Dick doing out of Bludhaven? “What?”

“Is the music room haunted?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I heard something inside.”

“Instruments tend to do that.”

“I did a headcount of everyone in the manor and everyone is accounted for except Duke who you sent out for patrol so I doubt it’s anyone but a ghost,” Dick said.

“Get out.”

“But I’m not even inside the bathroom.”

“Go away.”

“What if it’s not a ghost? What if it’s a spy?”

“The manor has more advanced security systems than the Pentagon, Dick.”

“That’s not a good point of comparison.”

Bruce closed his eyes and let the steam slow his rising blood pleasure.

“Just check the room. Could have been the wind.”

“I’m too scared.”

This man was almost thirty and was still giving Bruce the same amount of aneurysms as when he was eight.

“Ask Alfred to check for you.”

“Okay.”

He heard fading footsteps and let them lull him into sleep. He set his large arms onto the sides of the tub, sinking his mouth under the water.

“Father,” a voice said from out the door followed by three soft knocks by a small hand.

“What, Damian?”

“I need you to sign this letter from the school headmaster.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He doubted that.

“It’s for a parent-teacher conference.”

Bruce let the silence answer for him until Damian gave in.

“Someone attacked me in class.”

“Damian-“

“Okay, I threw the first punch but he taunted me first about how I was small for my age but I said that I’m of perfect size for my age and that I’m simply too smart to be crowded into elementary school children when my intellect belongs to that of a senior and then he asked what I was doing here and not in 5th grade and I said what was he doing here and not in 5th grade and he spat at me and now his nose is broken and they want you to cover the medical bills.”

Christ.

“Maybe you don’t have to pay it. You can call them yourself. You’re Bruce Wayne. You can get away with anything.”

“I can, but you’re not Bruce Wayne, so you have to deal with it.”

“Can you just sign this, Father?”

“Fine.”

Damian walked in, fanning the steam off his face and covering his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see his own father naked, then handed him the letter to sign it.

“Make sure your handwriting is the same as when I forged it.”

His eyes could not have rolled further back into his skull.

The boy walked out, just two seconds before the next set of voices made him wish the gunman shot him in the head four decades ago and not just his parents.

“Bruce, could you tell Jason he’s not the only one who died and come back to life and that his robin costume doesn’t deserve to have to top display in the Batcave anymore especially since he’s here?” Tim said.

Jason’s voice was even more obnoxious. “I died first, asshole and no one else would have died if it weren’t for me so clearly, you should thank me. And my rebranding was better. You’re still technically a robin since, you know, it’s the other half of your name, so you don’t deserve to be memorialized.”

“You don’t deserve to be memorialized at all when you’re alive and not a memory. You’re not even the first robin.”

“You’re not the first anything.”

“I’m the first at a lot of things.”

“Replacement.”

“Glorified zombie.”

Bruce grabbed the cucumbers Alfred had laid out on the table next to him just so his eyes wouldn’t burst out in blood at how much he wanted to scream.

“Ask Alfred what to do,” Bruce said.

“Alfred is with Dick in the music room to look for ghosts. We need an answer now.”

“What do you even want me to do?”

“Tim threw my robin costume piled up with all their robin costumes when clearly, it should be in the display case,” Jason said. “And Tim wants to move my motorbike out of the cave.”

“You have so many motorbikes, would it hurt you to move just one?”

“No.”

“Bruce!”

Bruce counted to ten. “No.”

“No to what?”

“Everything.”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying no to.”

“I could not care any less.”

“Can we please come in?”

“No, I’m naked.”

“We’ve seen you naked.”

“Not on purpose.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Fine. Fine. We’ll get glass cases for both of you and we’ll pretend it’s a shrine as if you’re still dead. Happy?”

“Not from dying but sure,” said Tim.

“What about the motorbikes?”

“Put it outside,” said Bruce.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“Do whatever. Throw out the T-Rex in the cave for all I care.”

“Also, I need access to the batcomputers,” Jason said.

“For what?”

“Everyone else has access except me.”

“That’s for a reason, Jason.”

“Pretty please.”

“Get out.”

It took another five minutes of the two yapping at the other side of the door before it finally quieted down.

Then his phone started ringing. Duke.

That was when his blood pressure really started to spike.

“Duke? Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” he said to the phone.

“Me?” said Duke. “Oh yeah everything’s great! Not much crime when everyone’s watching the halftime show.”

“Then why’d you call?”

“Can I use the batmobile?”

Fuck a duck. “For what?”

“The streets are empty and you said I could drive it when there isn’t traffic.”

He hung up and threw the phone into the water before Duke could say anything else.

He had five minutes of quiet this time. Then Steph was at the door. “Bruce!”

An aneurysm. One of these days, he might actually have one.

“What now?”

“Can I change rooms?”

“Why?”

“Dick said there’s a ghost in the music room and my room is like five feet away and I don’t think I can sleep there anymore.”

“You slept there last night and everything is fine.”

“Ghosts can be quiet, Bruce, it doesn’t mean they’re not there. And you’ve made a lot of enemies, so I won’t be surprised if anyone’s settled in to haunt you.”

You’d think he wasn’t in a house full of vigilantes who fight the city’s most dangerous criminals.

“I haven’t killed anyone, Stephanie. I keep all my enemies alive.”

“What if it’s not your enemy? They don’t have to hate you to haunt you. Can I please just change rooms?”

“Move wherever you want. I don’t care.”

“Can I move to the bedroom at the west wing?”

“That’s mine,” Bruce said.

“You have a bedroom? I thought you never slept.”

“Fine. Take it. Just get out.”

“Really?” Steph squealed. “The master bedroom. Sweet!”

It took less than five seconds before the next reason for his headache started pounding at the door.

“Bruce! Jason is trying to hack into the batcomputer!”

“I did not!”

“He did!”

“The World’s Greatest Detective is just mad I guessed his password on the second try.”

Bruce sank into the water, drowning their yapping until it had blurred out. He held his breath for seven minutes straight. He could die. That wouldn’t be the worst thing. Just when it was finally quiet, again, Bruce rose up and found Damian sitting on the toilet.

He continued to look unbothered even when he looked at Bruce straight in the eye.

“Do you mind?”

“I’d like to use this toilet.”

“There’s fifteen bathrooms in the manor, Damian.”

“I like this one.”

“I understand I have not spent as much time with you, but this is not what your tutors mean by father-son bonding.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I don’t mean to bond with you. I just like this toilet.”

“Fine. Please. Take your time.”

He did take his time. Damian sat there for a whole five minutes and pulled out a book.

“I wasn’t being serious. Get out of here.”

“Relax, father. It’s your day off.”

Bruce eyelids fluttered closed and he refused to open them until his son left the bathroom.

The next knock made a blood vessel pop. “Bruce. It’s me Barb. So sorry to bother you but I found another group of conspiracy theorists on the TikTok who made a list of billionaires who have never been seen in the same room as Batman and you’re the front liner of that list. I know you told me to never engage with these things but it’s at fifty million views right now and they’re making edits of you as Batman.”

“Make more bot accounts and pin it on Elon.”

“On it,” said Barbara. “So sorry to have disturbed you!”

He’s going to have a talk with Alfred to block off the whole floor the next time he draws these baths.

“Bruce?” It was Cass. “I hope it’s alright if I take Steph’s room. I took the liberty of putting a speaker in the music room so Dick would tell everyone there was a ghost in the manor and Steph would move out.”

The alarm went off. His thirty minutes were up.

 One of these days, Bruce might finally break his no-kill rule, and it won’t be for the Joker.

---

A/N: I MISSED ALL OF YOU ASSHOLES AND I HOPE THIS WON'T BE THE LAST

TAGLIST

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[buckymorelikefuckme]

don't overdue it

bucky barnes x librarian reader

words: 850

a/n: it's not much but it's honest work *tips cowboy hat* not proofread! but big thanks to @brandycranby for taking a gander at it :') any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

part 1 ❀

When Bucky returns to the library in the hopes of surprising you and maybe asking you to lunch, he is not prepared for the events that follow.

He's heading straight for the circulation desk, assuming that's where you'll be, but sweet, tinkering laughter pulls his attention to the left and he promptly trips over his own feet. Your hands are on the table in front of you as you lean into it. The way your spine curves should be a crime. It makes your ass stick out in an extremely enticing manner, and Bucky may have physical strength, but mentally he is weak.

The tennis skirt that peeks out from under your pink cardigan is… tiny. Are you allowed to wear something that short to work? Surely not. Right? Like, there has to be rules against everything currently happening, to keep innocent people from imploding at such a visual.

He watches as you turn your head to muffle fresh giggles into your shoulder, the women sitting around the table, who he's just now noticed, joining in. You press your finger to your lips, trying to shush them, but your frame shakes with the effort of keeping quiet.

He’s gonna give himself an aneurysm if he keeps imagining what it'd be like to stand behind you in that position, hands possessively on your hips, perhaps with less clothes between you.

By the time he shakes the mental image from his brain, you're walking away, waving to the women at the table as they push their chairs in. You turn a corner and he hurries to follow. He's determined, goddamnit. The flirting over text after your first date the other night has been cute and all, but he couldn't wait another minute to see you.

When he takes the same turn as you, entering an aisle of tall bookshelves, he trips over his feet for a second time. You're on a stepladder, stretched onto your tip-toes as you try to put a book away. Bucky has a clear view of the swell of your ass and the baby blue lace covering it beneath your skirt.

“Did I fall and slam my head into the ground? Am I dreaming?”

His voice startles you, making you wobble precariously. He strides over to steady you. It's only after he has your hips in a tight grip that he realizes what he's done, and yet he can't seem to remove his hands.

“Bucky,” you murmur in surprise, looking over your shoulder at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you to lunch, but now I'm having very ungentlemanly thoughts and I think I should probably leave before I do something I’ll regret.”

Even though he says it, he makes no move to leave whatsoever.

Your small hands come to rest atop his. “Why don't you help me down, big guy?”

Bucky jolts into action, slowly guiding you off the ladder until you're on even flooring and smiling up at him, eyes twinkling in amusement. He drops his hands as he feels his ears go hot.

“Thank you.”

He nods. “You're welcome.”

You hold his stare for a moment, then tilt your head, letting out a soft giggle. He's pretty sure you're laughing at him, but he honestly couldn't care less, not if it makes you happy. He will gladly make an idiot of himself every single day if it means he gets to hear that adorable giggle.

“You're so cute,” you say with a sigh.

He blinks incredulously. “I’m cute? Have you seen yourself? You're like the CEO of Cute Patoot. You look like you mastered in Charming Everyone You Meet with a minor in Wooing Even the Crankiest of People. When you sneeze, thirty fairies get their wings. Every time you laugh you heal a blind person. Your smile could literally end wars. You—”

“Oh my god, stop,” you plead, laughing so hard you gasp for breath.

“You just gave sight to like, at least five people.”

You shove his shoulder as more laughter bubbles out of you. Bucky grins, powerless to stop himself. He's so far gone and you've only been on the one date. He's fucking screwed.

You manage to calm down, wiping at your eyes. “Didn't you mention something about lunch?” you ask.

“I did,” he confirms. “But honestly, all I wanna do now is kiss you for a little while. I could live off that for probably two days.”

You roll your eyes with a huff. “Not this again,” you mumble.

“I’m so serious.”

“I know you are, which is the absurd part of this whole situation,” you reply, shaking your head with a smile.

“How about this,” he starts, tangling his fingers with yours, “I’ll still take you to lunch, but only after I get a kiss.”

You groan playfully and it makes Bucky’s stomach tingle.

“Okay, okay, fine. One kiss.”

He refrains from clicking his heels and shouting yippee! but it's a near thing. The way you're looking at him makes him think you know anyway. Oh well. You're still leaning up to press your pouty lips against his, so who's winning?

[meimiou]

The Glow of Memories

synopsis: Since childhood, Ran and his best friend y/n have cherished a secluded hideout in the forest, a sanctuary where they confide their deepest worries and share their dreams. This special place has been a refuge for their secrets, joys, and fears, strengthening their bond as they grew up together. Till one day, y/n’s heartfelt words about the future and their dreams took on new meaning, shaping Ran’s journey and leaving a lasting impact on his life.

ᝰ pairing: Ran Takahashi x f!reader ᝰ genre: angst, øne-shøt ᝰ warnings: none ᝰ word count: 1.6k

Mei’s Echo! Hey, this is my first time writing a story, and I have to admit I’m a bit nervous about how people will receive it since I’m completely new to this scene. Despite my nerves, I decided to take the plunge and publish this one-shot. I should mention that English is not my first language, so I might not be able to express myself as clearly as I’d like. There may be some mistakes, so please bear with me. Additionally, I decided to write fanfictions because I saw people on Twitter/X asking for more stories about RJ Nippon. I hope you enjoy reading it and that you like my first story ^^

It was a gloomy afternoon, besides dark clouds and heavy rain, the lightning seemed to be the only light of the day. Ran needed a few seconds, even minutes to process the message he received from his mother.

“You’re joking! Say you’re joking! I’m begging you!” Ran cries out in desperation to his mother. But even she couldn't hide her grief as crystal-shaped tears slide down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry…”

The only thing left to come out of his mother’s mouth. It was a mix between words and air, one could say the last air she had left before her knees gave out and she and her son were crying on the floor in despair.

Her husband, also in a state of shock and still processing, tried everything to comfort these two people who meant the most to him, but it was in vain.

It was just this one message, a short, bitter message that would change their entire lives. The news that y/n had died of an abdominal aortic aneurysm and would now live with the angels and protect all the people she knew, even if it was now in a faraway place, heaven.

Ran had never been the same since that day. He lost himself when he heard the news at just 16. In the years since, he had grown into a mature and tall young man.

On his 18th birthday, for the first time since y/n passed away, Ran returned to their secret hideout, a place that had always been a sanctuary for him and y/n. It was where they shared their secrets, shed tears of joy and sadness, exchanged hugs, and talked about their fears for the future. For them, it was always a second home, as they called it. But now, only he called it his second home.

Ran never had the courage to go there alone. He was afraid of reliving the past and facing a future without y/n.

“Nothing has changed about this path…” Ran whispered to himself. But it was a lie. The path hadn’t changed in any shape or form, but the person who once walked beside him was missing, and Ran knew it too well. He was alone now, without her voice, her tears, her rants, and her smile that never failed to make him smile too.

“Ran, look at this!” y/n exclaimed, pointing to a spot near a shimmering lake. The lake was nestled deep within the forest, far removed from the noise and bustle of the city — a perfect place to unwind and relax.

The dense canopy of trees above filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Birds chirped melodiously, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, creating a serene atmosphere. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the earthy scent of pine and moss.

Ran glanced at y/n, a small sparkle in his eyes, captivated by her enthusiasm. Her face was lit up with excitement, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed at the tranquil scene. Before he could respond, y/n took his hand, her grip firm and warm, and pulled him eagerly toward the lake.

He felt an exhilarating thrill as they dashed through the underbrush, the world around them becoming a blur of green. Their laughter echoed through the trees, mingling with the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet. The lake seemed to draw them in, its surface glistening like a sheet of glass under the sun.

As they reached the water’s edge, they paused, panting lightly from the run. The lake was stunning, its calm waters reflecting the sky and surrounding trees. The place had an enchanting quality, as if time itself had slowed down just for them. Ran couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace and joy as he stood there with y/n, their shared excitement making the moment even more magical.

As they stood by the lake, y/n gazed at the still water, her expression shifting from excitement to a more reflective mood. The surface of the lake was like a perfect mirror, reflecting the sky and the lush trees surrounding them. She took a deep breath, her eyes softening with a touch of melancholy.

“Every time I see my reflection in the lake,” y/n began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I get kind of sentimental. It feels like time is slipping away from us as we get older.”

Ran watched her intently, sensing the shift in her mood. He felt a pang of sadness in his chest, knowing exactly what she meant. The moments they shared in their secret hideout were precious, but they also reminded them of how fleeting time could be. The innocence of their youth was slowly giving way to the uncertainties of the future.

y/n’s gaze remained fixed on the water, her reflection mingling with the gentle ripples that distorted her image. “It’s like each year passes by faster than the last, and sometimes I worry about what the future holds for us.” she continued, her voice tinged with a hint of fear and vulnerability.

Ran squeezed her hand gently, offering silent support. He understood the weight of her words, feeling the same uncertainty about the future. He often wondered where life would take them and whether y/n would be by his side through the twists and turns of adulthood. The lake, once a place of joyful memories, now also held a bittersweet reminder of the passage of time.

“It’s hard not to think about what lies ahead” Ran admitted, his voice thoughtful. “I worry about what’s going to happen to us, where we’ll end up, and if we’ll still be friends in a few years.”

y/n nodded, her eyes reflecting the same concerns. The future felt like an endless sea of possibilities, both exciting and daunting. Yet standing here with Ran, she found solace in the strength of their bond.

“We’ve always been there for each other” she said softly, “and I hope that never changes. I want to see you become the volleyball star you’ve always dreamed of being. I know you can do it, Ran.”

Ran felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. Volleyball had always been his passion and knowing that y/n believed in his dream filled him with determination and hope. Her unwavering support made him feel like anything was possible.

He smiled, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. “Thanks, y/n. I’ll work hard for that, and I’ll be cheering you on too, whatever path you choose.”

Together, they stood at the edge of the lake, surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the forest, and silently promised to face whatever the future held hand in hand, supporting each other’s dreams every step of the way.

“Wow, look at the stars, Ran” y/n giggled, pointing up at the night sky. “They twinkle just like your eyes do when you see a volleyball.”

Ran glanced at the stars, then back at y/n, who was lying beside him on the soft grass. He was struck by how her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, mirroring the constellations above. He didn’t respond verbally but simply lay down next to her, allowing the peacefulness of the night to envelop them both.

As they stared up at the dark blue sky, Ran noticed something different. The usual calm of their shared moments was tinged with a fluttering sensation in his stomach, like a delicate butterfly taking flight. He couldn’t quite place it, but it felt oddly significant as he observed y/n’s face bathed in starlight.

y/n suddenly sat up, her gaze fixed intently on Ran. “You’ll be 16 soon, Ran. You should really enjoy this time while you can. You’re still young after all.” she said, her voice carrying a bittersweet undertone that Ran couldn’t quite decipher.

Ran looked at her, puzzled by the depth of her words. “You sound like my grandma...” he replied with a light chuckle, trying to shift the mood. Despite his attempt at humor, the fluttering butterflies in his stomach remained, leaving him with an unshakable sense of nostalgia.

y/n smiled softly, then lay back down, her hand brushing lightly against Ran’s. They shared a comfortable silence, the sound of crickets filling the air as they continued to gaze at the stars.

Two years later, Ran stood on the court, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves. The game was intense, and the moment he had been dreaming of was finally within reach. As he leapt for a crucial spike, the memory of y/n’s encouraging words echoed in his mind.

“I know you can do it, Ran” she had said, her eyes shining with belief.

As he scored the winning point and celebrated with his team, Ran looked up towards the sky. He felt a deep sense of gratitude, knowing that y/n’s words had been more than just encouragement — they had been a beacon of hope that had carried him through his challenges. Yet, even amidst the triumph, he couldn’t forget the deep wound left by y/n’s passing. Her absence was a void that he was still learning to navigate.

Ran felt the weight of that loss, a lingering ache in his heart. But he also felt her presence in the supportive words she had spoken, and in the promise she had made. He knew that y/n was always with him, guiding him, just as she had hoped. Her belief in him continued to inspire him, even as he worked to heal and move forward.

With a smile of contentment and a heart still healing, Ran knew that every success he achieved was a tribute to y/n’s unwavering faith in him. Her words and memories were a source of strength, a reminder that he was never truly alone.