#and slight side tangent but

[ectonurites]

…ok the next DC:YJ issue (#5) isn’t out yet (aside from the preview and a leaked page) but I wanna briefly talk about this criticism/sentiment i’ve seen in at least three or four separate posts across here and twitter:

Several people confused/frustrated by Meghan seeming to characterize Young Justice fans (via Mickey) as conservative homophobic sexist racist etc dudebros- when the Young Justice fandom they are familiar with is largely made up of a completely different diverse group of people. Plus the 1998 book itself being unfairly misrepresented as less progressive than it actually was in order to justify this.

To which there’s two points I’d like to bring up:

1. Meghan Fitzmartin is the one writing this book. Meghan Fitzmartin who wrote the story in which Tim became canonically bisexual. Meghan Firzmartin who has been constantly berated and criticized and sent hate by the vocal toxic homophobic Tim fans that think she ruined the character! A lot of those people aren’t fans of just Tim- they’re fans of Tim’s generation (in many instances because stuff like Young Justice 1998 was current back when they were getting into comics). And plenty are opposed to any change, not just characters coming out as LGBT, but more diversity in comics in general- more lead characters of color, more lead women, etc. The tumblr- and like stan dctwt- sections of the DC fandom might be what you see the most as a user of those communities, but they are not the only part of the fandom, not the majority, and not even necessarily the most vocal.

2. @gwynerso said the other thing I wanna communicate well when discussing misrepresentation of Young Justice 1998:

I think the whole point was that it was progressive, given the whole point is that Mikey had to heavily twist the guys memories and remove Cassie to make his “point”. Whilst we can talk about writing quality and whether it hits its mark or not, it’s definitely a critique of (x)

the sort of fan who will ignore the progressive elements of what they like to paint it in the gross light they want it to have. If it wasn’t progressive, Bart, Tim and Kon wouldn’t have noticed the dissonance. Mikey’s powers are reality bending on both ends like his dad’s. (x)

Because, as stated earlier, those types of fans of YJ do definitely exist and they are in Meghan’s twitter notifications on a pretty regular basis (plus I wouldn’t be surprised by some irl encounters at conventions she’s attended since UL #6 dropped). Maybe they’re not the ones reading the book (and even if they are, they’re obviously not the only ones) but it’s still a toxic mindset that’s within the comics community and she is actively painting that mindset as being the villain here (which goes along with the general theme in both this book and Dark Crisis as an event that things can’t/shouldn’t just go back to ‘how they were’ because things have changed, modern comics can’t just be ruled by nostalgia)

I think there is definitely fair discussion to be had about whether this was the book/story that was needed for these characters right now (I personally at this point don’t really think it was, in large part because a lot of problems/unfair treatment the YJ generation has faced were more editorial’s fault than the fanbase’s, and that’s something hard to actually approach through an in-universe story), I think there are certainly elements/execution/characterization worth criticizing (I’m just… waiting to formulate my final thoughts on any of that until we have the whole story, because the context of the ending could absolutely change/explain things), but it feels like so many people are just looking for reasons to be angry without taking a step back to think about the larger picture/larger comics community. Without trying to think about what is actually being communicated here and instead just getting defensive.

[tumblezwei]

Are you also a firm believer in the "Bailu is Baiheng reincarnated" theory?

I am 100% confident in that theory lmao

imo at this point, with all the evidence we've been given, it's not even a theory it's literally just text

[martyrbat]

writing the setup for a character to get sucked sloppy style next to a dumpster will have you writing about digging inside a prettyboys intestines to show your devotion and care

[rain-filled-garden]

🩸} A pirate Capitan, with his own conscience, who understands quite well the struggles this life can bring one face to face with...

[tinyluvs]

Rafe and reader arguing and she flashes him to end the argument and win it

i’ve won many an argument doing this so 🌝 *mdni!*

the door of the cameron house slams and you flinch, your eyes widening as you turn to the sound of the footsteps rapidly approaching. rafe barrels into the kitchen looking, for lack of a better word, mad

“oh boy” you mutter to yourself before slapping a sickly sweet smile on your face, “hi baby, how’re you?”

rafe raises an eyebrow at you. the breakfast bar counter separates the two of you, “don’t baby me right now” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest

you know exactly what you did but just in case he’s mad over something else, you don’t admit to anything. “why?” you ask with a slight pout and a tilt of your head

your boyfriend rubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply, “so i was at the country club,” he starts and you hum, “heard some talk about things you’d said”

he knows. you mentally curse, rapidly trying to come up with something to get you out of trouble but nothing springs into action fast enough for you

“do you have any idea what trouble you’ll start if you start saying that shit?” rafe hisses at you, his hands planting onto the counter as he leans towards you

stupidly, you’d got a little drunk and gone on a rather long, rambling, tangent about how fucked the island system is. the way the pogue’s have no electricity or running water sometimes and the kook’s never have any issues

you frown, “but it’s true! kie was telling me ho-”

“i don’t care what kie said! i’m talking about you and what you said” rafe cuts you off, raising his voice over yours, “it’s the fucking country club, full of kooks” he points out

a sigh tumbles past your lips and your hand swipes through your hair, “so i can talk about it, just not at the country club?” you shoot back with an attitude

rafe stares at you, “just don’t talk about it at all for a while, okay?” he huffs, standing back up straight. even with the counter between you, he has to look down at you, his eyes burning into yours

“okay, god, i’m sorry” you roll your eyes but you realise that was a mistake when he growls, deep in his chest

he turns away from you, pacing up and down in the kitchen, “but you’re not sorry because you do this all the fucking time” he starts to ramble, “you’re my girlfriend, you live here with me an-”

you drown him out. watching him stop in front of the glass doors that lead out onto the patio. he rubs at his jaw as he continues to talk

“it’s not that deep, rafe” you mumble and drum your fingers off of the counter, “i won’t talk about it”

rafe doesn’t even acknowledge you talking, his rant continuing, his words louder than yours, “it makes my family look bad, my girlfriend going around talking about how we live and how it’s unfair to pogues, god!”

sighing deeply, you start to slide your fingers under the hem of your crop top, inching it up until you’re exposing your tits. your nipples perk up and you cross your arms underneath your boobs

still rafe doesn’t notice, “so stupid, this is how the island works, the kooks and the fucking pogues and it only works that way becau-”

“because what?”

he turns, finally. his words dying on his tongue as his eyes immediately draw to your chest. he licks over his bottom lip, watching your hand ghost over the swell of your tit and up to your neck

“because what, rafe?” you repeat yourself, challenging him even though you know you’ve won. his eyes darken and he moves around the breakfast bar, still leaving enough space between you

puffing his cheeks out, he admits defeat, “doesn’t matter” he grumbles. lust outweighs his annoyance for your argument ending tactics

you smirk, “didn’t think so,” you hum smugly. he closes the distance between you, hand sliding up your side until his thumb is brushing against your nipple

he bends and uses his free hand to pull your leg up, forcing you to jump, legs wrapping around his waist, “don’t do it again,” he mumbles against your neck, shifting you higher up his body so he can trail his lips down to your tit

“hmm, it’s quite fun winning the argument though” you snicker and push your tongue between your lips, titling your head back slightly.

his hand slaps against the your asscheek, his teeth grazing harshly against your nipple, causing you to cry out, something between a moan and a shout.

“don’t push it” he warns but you will, because the after argument sex always leaves you bruised and marked and so, so full and you’re too addicted to it

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

[avis-writeshq]

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make. 

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases. 

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt. 

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice. 

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum. 

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone. 

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm. 

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?” 

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

*** 

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions. 

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you. 

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and  you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back. 

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

*** 

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground. 

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity. 

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes. 

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer. 

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up. 

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing. 

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby. 

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat. 

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought. 

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch. 

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling. 

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here. 

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down. 

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin. 

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs. 

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain. 

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head  spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

*** 

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring. 

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful. 

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line. 

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up. 

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reblogs are always appreciated!

[azrielwingspan]

'HIGH' PRAISE (AZRIEL X READER)

I am on a roll damn. Another idea that I jotted down as quick as I could. Enjoy !!

Summary: Mirthroot and alcohol can work in your favour sometimes. You have a very interesting conversation with Azriel.

Warnings : Mention of substances, mild swearing. MDNI !

"You are a saviour Y/N." Mor said taking a hit from the mirthroot joint. The party was in full swing downstairs but you and Mor had found solace in her balcony.

"Don't thank me. Thank the male who was nice enough to give it up." you said taking your turn.

The lightness in your head was making you giddy and talkative. You could feel the slight tingle at your nerve ends, you body feeling detached from reality.

"He probably wanted to get into your pants."

"I know."

Mor let out a bark of laughter at that statement and leaned back against the wall. Her eyes had taken on a reddish tinge and you were sure that yours were probably worse. Your mouth felt numb and you smacked your lips cringing at the dryness of your mouth.

"I need something to drink. And eat. Chocolate cake sounds good. Chocolate cake with a side of yoghurt sounds even better. Add some good wine to it. What do you think?" your mind was moving too fast for your mouth to catch up to.

"It sounds terrible. Let's do it." You and Mor giggled clutching each others hands. That was some really strong mirthroot.

You made your way back to the party hyper focusing on every step being taken. Being high and face planting did not seem like a good combination. Your brain was a different entity, screaming at you to act normal. It was a party for fucks sake. Who acts normal anyways?

Grabbing Mor's hand , the both of you made your way over to the drinks table dodging your way through familiar faces. You refused to speak to anyone until you got your hands on the wine.

After chugging down half a bottle to quench your thirst, you noticed Azriel sitting with another male chatting about something.

"Mor."

"Yeah?"

"I think Azriel and I would make a fantastic couple."

The shattering of glass snapped you out of your hyper focused state for a beat.

It wasn't Mor.

Oh.

Back to hyper focused state.

"You would." she responded , a completely serious expression gracing her face.

"Should we tell him?" you asked, an illegal amount of bravery shooting through your veins. Not a single cell in your body thought this was a bad idea.

A new wave of idiocy hit you. The effects of the wine and mirthroot combined were doing wonders for your sanity right now.

"We should. Come on." This time, Mor was the one dragging you through the crowd, once again dodging everyone.

"Az!"

He turned to look at Mor, his own slightly glazed from the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"Y/N thinks---"

The male that was speaking to Azriel stood up and interrupted Mor, asking for a dance. Immediately forgetting why she was there, Mor walked away with him leaving you with Azriel.

"What do you think?" Az asked, his voice husky. Ugh, it was doing strange things to you.

"I think---"

"Are you high?" Az asked, holding in his laugh.

"Az you idiot. You never ask someone who's high if they're high. Way to ruin it!"

"Okay my bad. Sorry. Come here."

He motioned to the space next to him on the couch.

"No. No. I have chocolate cake plans. I just wanted to let you know that I think...and Mor thinks as well...that we would make a fantastic couple. I mean look at you. Look at me. Stunners. Jaw droppingly good looking. What's stopping us?"

Az looked thoroughly amused as you continued defending your statement.

"Y/N." he said stopping you before you went off on a different tangent. "Come here." This time he motioned to his lap.

Yeah chocolate cake could wait.

You went over and sat down sideways on his lap, wrapping you arms around his shoulders while his hands found their place on your hips.

"Tomorrow, I want you to come to me and tell me the same thing. Then we'll see how well this fantastic couple thing works out yeah?"

He touched his forehead to yours , the affectionate gesture bringing a grin to your face.

"Okay."

"Good girl. Now come on let's get you some chocolate cake."

"Fantastic."

[wonustars]

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺

Soobin vers. | Beomgyu vers.

txt as 5sos songs: you look so perfect.

Summary: yeonjun is a well known, attractive, and respected. you two are total opposites. the last thing that you would expect is for him to take interest in you. first meeting you at a coffee shop, he beomes a regular. constantly coming back to visit, but not just for the iced americanos.

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: nonidol!yj, popular!yj, campuscrush!yj, shy!asocial!reader, total opposites, opposites attract, yeonjun is so sweet and gives lots of reassurance, reader is a little angsty but still a lovely mc!

SMUT! MDNI 18+ only!

Warnings: dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, afab!reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, mating press, creampie, bigdick!yeonjun,this one is more on the vanilla side.

Word count: 5k words

Note: this story contains smut so minors pls DNI! I mean it, if I see you interacting i will be blocking you. hellowwww!! a lot of people really liked the preview so, heres the full thing hehe. i like half assed with the proof read so let me know if i've missed any typos, tags or warnings!! my lovely Taehyun will be after this one :)

happy reading ~

All your life you had been the one in the shadows. There are no major plot points or no “y/n moments” that people would use to describe Wattpad-like events. You weren’t upset about this though, the life you live is content, happy enough. 

A normal day-to-day for you consists only of two things, school, and working at the cafe across campus. Your life isn’t appealing to others, but you like how quiet it is. A quiet life with no disturbances, no drama, and no feelings of stress. It's a peculiar feeling to want something that seems so lonely.

The last time you witnessed a major disturbance in your life had to be the event that took place within the confines of your part-time job. Two men were trying to win the heart of a girl. Two attractive men at that. The whole time the three were quarrelling you wondered what it would feel like knowing someone wanted you that bad, that they would fight someone else to have you. 

It left an odd taste in your mouth, and a stinging feeling behind your eyes. 

“Hey… are you guys still taking orders?” a voice brings you out of your internal tangent. You perk up from the relaxed position you were in. Shamefully, you nod. Not wanting to make eye contact you head towards the register. 

“What can I get for you?” you ask, eyes trained on the ordering screen. 

“A large iced americano please, that’s all.” 

“And the name of the order?” you ask, a stupid question. No one else was in the cafe except you and this random guy. The music feels louder than it usually does, the embarrassment causes your ears to turn red. 

“Yeonjun.” 

..̇·𓏲 would you wanna run away too?

Yeonjun found himself coming to the cafe across campus more often now. The girl behind the counter piqued his interest, more than anyone he’s ever come across before. The energy you gave off, the fact that you were so shy? He couldn’t get you out of his head. So much so that he caught himself visiting you for his iced americano at least once a day. 

Yeonjun was never on the shy side, he had always been popular at school, living a life filled with social interaction. Everyone at school always adored him, not only for his looks but his charming personality. Which only made the fact that not being able to talk to you is a weird, new feeling for him. 

As much as he wanted to talk to you, he just didn’t know what to say. Where to start, how the conversation should come about. He was overthinking, and he also felt like it was wrong to only visit the cafe as an excuse to see you, like a stalker, although this is just some innocent crush. 

“A large iced americano please,” Yeonjun asks, giving you his sweetest smile. You glance up at him and give a slight nod. He has been coming to the cafe more often lately, you weren’t sure why but you weren’t complaining. A handsome customer becoming a regular was something that caused you to look forward to your shifts. 

“Is that all?” you ask, looking up to glance at his features again. Fuck he was so attractive. 

“Actually, there’s something else I wanted to ask.” Yeonjun declares, his face covered with a layer of determination. You don’t say anything, the feeling of anticipation bubbling in your stomach. “Can I also get your number?” 

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Not in a million years could you have predicted that the handsome regular would ask for your number. 

“U-um yeah sure it’s  _” you're stuttering, no one ever asked for your number before. Is this the “y/n moment” so many people on the internet talk about? 

..̇·𓏲 you look so perfect standing there

As soon as you get home from your shift a notification lights up your screen. It was a foreign feeling to see your phone light up from a notification, let alone a message. Of course, you had friends, but they preferred to hang out in person rather than text. 

You already knew who it could be from, your cheeks heating up at the thought, and possibilities of what this notification might contain. Getting ready for bed quickly, you envelope yourself in your comforter. The light from your phone screen lights up your dark room. 

unknown number: hey, is this y/n? its yeonjun. from the cafe. 

you: Yes this is y/n :) 

yeonjun: hi! you got home safely, im glad. 

you: Yes I did, and so did you. I’m also glad. 

yeonjun: lol ya i hope i didn’t come off too strong earlier. i just want to get to know you more. 

you: No you didn’t, Its ok. I didn’t think you would even want my number. It was kind of a surprise. 

yeonjun: what ofc i would want your number, i think you’re really pretty. and you make good americanos

you: Thank you, it just wasn’t what i was expecting. Americanos arent rocket science tho, its literally water and espresso lol 

yeonjun: yeah ik but they taste so much better when you make them :)

It’s only been a few minutes since you and Yeonjun started talking over text, but your face has already turned into a deep shade of crimson. Throwing your phone across your bed, you shove your face into your pillow letting out a scream. The sound of your feet hitting your bed as you kick them and giggle like a mad woman. As you come back to your senses, you quickly remember that you have yet to reply. 

you: You flatter me Yj, you should keep coming back for them if you like them so much. 

yeonjun: yj? even my nickname sounds sweeter coming from you, but the Americanos weren’t the only thing i was coming back for. 

The smile on your face hurts your cheeks. Never has anyone made you feel like Yeonjun did as he texted you. The blatant flirting and numerous compliments realized how much you were missing out on while living your mundane student life. 

It had only been a few hours of texting each other back and forth, but you started to grow fond of the person Yeonjun is. He’s so handsome, not just in the face, but also with the way he carried himself. The impression he gives off is insanely attractive. The way he made you feel wanted, liked, and cherished over the simplest things reeled you in. 

..̇·𓏲 your lipstick stain is a work of art 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Yeonjun started talking but it has started to become a part of your daily routine. You’ve become accustomed to the many good morning and goodnight texts, the late night Facetime calls, and the blatant flirting from Yeonjun. 

He still comes into the cafe daily to grab his iced americano which you look forward to every shift. 

“Hey y/n!” a voice coming from the entrance grabs your attention. 

You’re working the lunch rush and have been trying to restock the pastries in the glass display. To your dismay they weren’t cooperating with you, leaving you frustrated and tired. A sigh of defeat leaves your lips and you turn your head over to the person calling your name. 

It’s him. The one person who makes your whole shift a little better. He looked so good walking through the door. His dark blue hair appeared more vibrant than usual, and the sun was hitting his face in the most heavenly way. Your heart was pumping hard, the flow of blood running to your ears and cheeks. 

Yeonjun walks up to you, and you notice someone following close behind him. Your eyes shift between the two of them. Assuming thoughts filling your head quickly. 

She is really pretty, you thought. 

They walk up to the counter together, laughing about something amongst themselves. It made your heart sink to the floor. The feeling in itself made you want to throw up. 

Quickly, you push it aside. You were not wanting your feelings to get in the way of your professionalism, especially at work. 

“Oh, hey Yeonjun and friend. What can I get for you guys?” you ask, smiling a little too hard, trying hard to act normal.

“Two americanos pleasee,” he answers, prolonging the ‘please’ with a little pout. If not for your current situation you would’ve found Yeonjun adorable. Your heart can only feel a stinging sensation at the view of the two in front of you. 

“Sounds good. They’ll be at the end of the counter for you guys,” you mumbled, not really making eye contact with Yeonjun. 

He senses your change in mood but didn’t want to make a fuss with a line slowly forming behind him. It’s the lunch rush after all, so he brushes it off for the time being. Leaving you to work, making a mental note to ask you about it when you’re off. 

..̇·𓏲 got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

Your shift felt longer than usual, probably due to the fact that you couldn’t get Yeonjun off your mind. The feeling in your chest still hasn’t subsided. Who are you to feel jealous about him hanging around other girls? Especially knowing that the two of you aren’t even together. With that tidbit of information circling your mind, you felt even more guilt for letting jealousy get the better of you. 

Not bothering to even check your phone, you focus on getting home quickly, wanting to take a shower as soon as you got back. Walking down the sidewalk your legs felt like jelly, thankfully you didn’t live that far from work. It was already past sunset and the light summer breeze whistled with every step you took. Five minutes and you’re already standing in front of your building. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you stare up at the brown bricks towering over you, imagining your bed and the comfort it brings you. 

As you come closer to your building you see a figure leaning against the wall near the entrance. Your senses are heightened considering there usually aren’t many suspicious people who tend to hang around your building. The distance between you and this stranger has gotten smaller, revealing their identity. All the while your heart drops once again, but in relief. 

“Y/n! Hey sorry if I freaked you out. You weren’t answering my texts I thought something bad happened to you.” Yeonjun explained, coming closer to you. His scent fills your senses, calming you down in just a blink of an eye. Thank god it was just him and not some stalker. 

“Hi Junnie, sorry I didn’t answer you. I didn’t check my phone after I got off. How do you know where I live?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, pretending to be suspicious of his actions. Your arms are crossed as you face towards him, his eyes are round as a globe. 

“U-uh sorry if I seem like a creep y/n-” he chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his head “-I asked one of your friends because you usually shoot me text when you’re off work.” 

“Oh ok, and no I don’t think your creepy. We’ve known eachother long enough to know these types of things anyways.” You comfort him, patting his back as you tilt your head towards the entrance. Silently asking if he wanted to come upstairs with you. 

As if it didn’t exist in the first place, the feeling of jealousy brewing in your stomach disappeared. The only thing left was the warmth Yeonjun brought you, even though your relationship has been undefined. Unlabelled. He felt like a new world you had yet to explore. New experiences that you’re waiting to try. Although he was popular, especially with the women around campus, he was a total green flag. 

Yeonjun nods his head, giving you his signature heart stopper smile as you lead him up to your apartment.

The familiar air of the building envelopes you, both of your footsteps echoing as you slowly ascend up the stairs. It wasn’t too long of a trip since you live on the second floor. 

A warm hand intertwines with yours, causing the hair on your arms to stand. The chills running through your body like an electric shock. If you weren’t quick enough, you would’ve tripped on the next step; taking Yeonjun down with you. But you relax, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you allow him to continue to follow you. 

What felt like an eternity, was in reality only a minute or two. You and Yeonjun finally made it up to the front door of your home. Your hands staying intertwined even when you fetch your keys from the bottom of your bag. As you unlock the door, your shoulders instantly relax. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you clocked into work. 

“Well, this is me.” you turn to him, shyly smiling. It wasn’t much but you were happy here. 

He chuckles. “Its cute. It suits your vibe.” 

You can’t help but smile as you continue to drag him through the rest of your living space. He follows you obediently, taking in everything little by little. The whole place felt warm, cozy, familiar. Which is exactly how Yeonjun feels about you. 

“Im gonna take a shower and change. You can watch something while you wait if you’d like.” You beam up at him with his hand still glued to yours, both sets of eyes twinkling against the ambient lighting. In this specific lighting you found Yeonjun to be so pretty. The dim lighting accentuating his features; the pink tint to his lips, the sharpness of his nose, the admiration in his eyes. 

Distracted by your beauty, Yeonjun can only smile and nod. 

..̇·𓏲 dont move, honey

As you leave your room, you see Yeonjun sitting on your couch. Looks like he’s made himself at home, you thought. Giggling quietly to yourself, you close the door shut. The sound causing Yeonjun to move his eyes over to you. His eyes are stuck on your figure, he didn’t expect you to walk out in such little clothing. The lump in his throat gets harder to swallow as you make your way to him. 

Your definition of comfortable clothing is a oversized shirt and some sleep shorts. Yeonjun doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to be rude and keep staring but he just can’t tear his eyes off you. The way your wet hair is causing your shirt to dampen; giving a sneak peak at your breasts. Or the factt that your shorts barely covered any part of you, it almost looked like you weren’t wearing any at all. God, he felt like a pervert, you looked so good he couldn’t help but feel-

“Whatcha watching?” you inquire, sitting down beside him, dangerously close. 

“Hmm just some random youtube video I stumbled upon.” he shrugs, trying to look non-chalant, but in reality, he was screaming at himself for being so turned on right now. 

“Oh ok.” You turn your attention towards the TV, your body stiff as you think about the proximity between you and Yeonjun right now. It’s the frist time he’s been over, and it’s also the first time you’ve spent alone time in person. At this moment you can only wonder if he feels the same way you do. 

With that thought, the memory of the girl who accompanied him to the cafe ressurfaces. You wonder if she was something more to him, of if they are just friends. Silently you pray its the latter. The feelings you’ve grown for Yeonjun seems to strengthen with everyday and night that you two talk. Although its a sad thought, he has every right to talk to other people; especially since neither of you stated that you would be exclusive. You aren’t really an expert in these types of situations anyways. 

Ever since you were young, the only relationships you’ve experienced were through media or reading. Some of your friends would tell you about their dating experiences, but you had no stories of your own to share. You were never as outgoing as they were, and you also didn’t like the idea of going out as often as they did. Funnily enough you still ended up in a job where you had to talk to strangers. All of that had lead you to believe that you were better off living the single life, as sad as it sounds; it was true for a good portion of your life. 

Until Yeonjun. 

“H-hey can I ask you something?” you turn over to face your body towards Yeonjun, your eyes flashing with clear nervousness. He pauses the video turning towards you with curious eyes. 

“Yeah of course, anything.” He smiles at you, his hand patting your bare thigh reassuringly. The action causing your cheeks heat up almost instantly. 

“Who was that girl you were with earlier? I know it’s not my place to ask considering we’re just friends but I’ve been thinking about it all day. Obviously if you’re not comfy you do-,” He cuts you off, a giggle leaving his lips. 

“Shes just a friend. She’s dating Soobin so you don’t need to worry.” he reassures, his hand coming back to your thigh again, squeezing it lightly, but this time he keeps it there. Your heartbeat is now in your throat as you look down at his hand. The veins running along his arms were prominent; the fact that his whole hand could grip more than half your thigh caused an unfamiliar heat to flow down to your lower body. 

“O-oh, ok just pretend I didn’t ask that then,” you mumble, your eyes still focused on the way he was no rubbing your thigh. It felt good to experience this type of skinship with him, even if it wasn’t all that much. It still has you stumbling over your words. 

“I thought you knew I liked you already y/n. I thought you knew from the moment I asked for your number.” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours. 

Your breath hitched not being able to move your eyes away from his lips. 

“U-um I didn’t know. No ones ever shown interest in me.” you confess, your head now turned down towards your hands as you play with them nervously. 

“Thats ok baby, I’m interested in you. I like you.” Yeonjun states firmly. His finger carefully placed under your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. This is the first time you’ve seen Yeonjun look so serious. You couldn’t help but gulp. 

“I like you too Junnie.” you whisper, your eyes locked on his. Smiling, Yeonjun strokes your cheek with his thumb. The warmth of his hand still burning onto your thigh. 

“Fuck y/n It’s so hard for me to hold back when you call me that.” His tone is low. Staring at your lips, he begins to trace their outline. 

“What? Junnie?” you provoke, matching his tone. A groan almost leaves his lips but instead his grip on your thigh only tightens. 

“May I kiss you y/n?” Yeonjun’s polite words are a stark contracts as to all the thoughts brewing in his head. You seem to have lost your voice, only nodding as you slowly try to close the gap. 

With Yeonjun’s lips on yours he grips your waist pulling you onto his lap in a swift motion. You can’t help but yelp at how easily he can move you around. It was like you were his own personal ragdoll. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he deepens the kiss.

This is your first time kissing someone but you’re glad your first is Yeonjun. Not only do you have feelings for him, but he tasted so good. It felt so wrong but right at the exact same time. 

The two of you continue to kiss passionately, and you feel yourself naturally move with the flow. Your hips starting to move back and forth slightly as Yeonjun guides you with his large hands. A tiny gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard rub against your core. Although this was all new to you, it was like you already knew what to do. Yeonjun takes the opportunity to allow his tongue to enter your mouth. This surprises you, pulling away you say,

“Junnie I-i’ve never done anything like this before.” you squeaked, burying your face into his neck. He rubs his hands up and down the sides of your thighs, soothing you. 

“Thats alright princess, I can show you how. Will you let me?” he asks, his hands moving to take your face away from the space between his shoulder and neck. Brushing the hair out of your face, he tucks the strands behind your ear. The action in itself can only cause your cheeks to burn a deep red. Everything Yeonjun did always had you feeling like the most cherished girl in the world. You can only nod as his actions have left you speechless. 

“With your words princess.” he demands, a hand snakes down to your hips giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

“Yes Junnie, please show me how,” you murmur. Steadily, you move closer to him wanting to close the gap between you two again. You want to feel the same way you did when your bodies were pressed up against eachother. 

“Alright darling, just let me know if it gets too much for you ok? I’ll only go as far as you let me.” 

“Yes Junnie.”

“Good girl.” his hands are back on your hips, his lips back on yours. The wet sounds coming from both your mouths have you riled up. Yeonjuns back to moving your hips back and forth, desperately wanting to increase the friction. The sensation of his hard dick rubbing against you was addicting. Your thin shorts not really leaving anything up to imagination. 

Yeonjun can only groan, the feeling of your warm cunt against his cock is driving his crazy. He can only wonder how it must feel to be inside you. 

“F-feel’s good Jun.” you moan into the kiss, your hips now moving on their own accord. 

“You like that princess?” he chuckles, peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his tracks. Slowly his hands creep up under your shirt. It lifts ups as his hands move higher. They almost hit your bare breasts, but before he proceeds he looks up to you for approval. You can only nod, dazed from all your senses going into overdrive. 

Yeonjun doesn’t waste any time and removes your shirt. You’re left bare in front of him, the blush on your cheeks still noticeable in the dim lighting. 

“You’re beautiful love,” he assures, going back to his ministrations. Kissing up and down your neck until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in his hand and the other one in his mouth. You can only moan, your head lolling back from the pleasure. Hands gripping onto his hair for some type of balance. 

Yeonjun is rock hard under you, the pulse in his dick only getting more noticable the more he pleasures you. He wants to show you how much he wants you, to show you how much you deserved to be cherished. 

Tongue swirling around your nipple, your moans become less shy, the feeling of being pleasured taking over you. Yeonjuns mouth moving onto the other nipple as he picks you up. You yelp from the sudden movement but wrap your legs around his waist anyways. 

His feet padding towards your bedroom, he opens the door. Gently he places you on your mattress, situating himself between your legs.

“Are you still doing ok over there sweetheart?” he inquires. 

“Really ok Junnie, please keep going. Want more.” you whimper, your elbows stablizing you as you get a good view of him. He begins to remove your shorts, your pussy glistening from how wet he’s gotten you. A groan bubbles up in Yeonjuns throat; just looking at you in this light could make him cum. 

He makes himself comfortable with his head between your thighs. Taking things slow, he uses one finger to play with your entrance. Rubbing you all over, collecting your wetness before he finally pushes a finger in. 

You moan, your elbows collapsing from the pleasure. You grip your sheets as he pumps his finger in and out of you. The lewd sounds of your soaking core bouncing off the walls. After a few more pumps he adds in another finger, the stretch burning so good.

He looks up at you to see you whimpering for him, his name leaving your mouth in what sounded like a sweet melody. The way your brows scrunch with his every moves turns him on even more. Watching you coming undone on his fingers is a sight he wants to see everyday if he could.

“Let me taste you baby.” Yeonjun says with a deep tone to his voice. Every word coming out of his mouth is dripping with lust. With that warning he places a kiss on your clit, your hands moving from your sheets to grip his hair. He continues to kitten lick and suck on your sensitive bud, the pleasure sending you to another universe. 

“O-oh Junnie, it feels so good.” you squeak out. He places your legs over his shoulders, delving into you more. He’s properly eating you out now, his fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat while licking you all at the same time. As he goes on, an unfamiliar feeling starts to brew in your stomach; growing stronger as more time passed. 

“I can feel your pussy gripping my fingers baby, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go.” Yeonjun purrs, his words of encouragement is your last straw before your orgasm. 

“Good girl, so good for me. You’re doing so well my love.” he’s praising you as he moves back up to your face. Hes smirking at you as he hovers over your naked body. His own body still in between your legs, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices. 

“Can I fuck you princess?” he asks.

The vulgar words spewing from his mouth, the way he asks so nicely, the way he calls you such sweet names; the polarity of it all gives you whiplash. 

“Yes please, wanna feel you inside me.” you mumble and you press kissing all along his face, moving down towards his neck. You found it so attractive how he always asks for your consent. 

He quickly undresses, both your clothes randomly thrown around the room. Situating himself between your legs once again, he sits himself on his heels. Pumping his length a few times he then rubs the tip up and down your slit, collecting your juices. The squelching sound of your lips rubbing against his him is like music to his ears. 

Yeonjun finally enters you, causing your back to arch with every inch he slowly puts in. You’ve only heard about sex through friends, but being able to experience it yourself is on another level. The stretch of his cock pushing inside you stings more than when he was fucking you with his fingers. 

“Mmm Junnie I think you’re too big,” you whimper while hes pressing kisses all over your face to soothe you. 

“It’s ok love, it’ll feel better as it goes on ok?” Yeonjun groans, as he keeps pushing into you. He continues till hes dick is buried deep inside you. Stilling for a moment, he lets you get used to the feeling. The scrunched up look on your face begins to relax, giving him a signal to start thrusting into you. 

“Fuck baby you feel so good around me.” he whispers. 

At first hes slow, but the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his dick starts to fog his thoughts. Your moans increase in volume, his name falling off your lips repeatedly. 

“Junnie, hmmm it feels so good. Faster please.” you beg as your wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down for another kiss. Who is he to deny you? 

He fucks into you faster, this time you can hear the slapping sounds as his length goes in and out of you. One of his hands moving between the two of you to rub your clit and his thrusts to turn sloppy. 

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head the more Yeonjun pumps his dick into you. You could feel his length kiss your cervix with every thrust. This is all so new to you, and the only thing you could do is keep moaning and telling him how good it felt.

“This pussy was made for me. Isn’t it baby?” he states rather than asks.

“Y-yes Jun.” you’re a stuttering mess, you could barely answer him as it is.

“Taking me so well princess. I wanna fuck you like this all the time now.” he praises again, taking your thighs and pressing them towards your stomach. The new angle causes you to whimper, you can feel him so much deeper. Your gummy walls are practically suctioning him.

You moan in response. He’s fucked you dumb at this point, cock drunk with every move he makes inside your wet cunt.

“Can I cum inside you baby?” he asks in between kisses. 

“Please Junnie, wanna feel you cum in me.” you moan, the feeling of your clit being stimualted as he fucks you is causing you to see stars. You cum around him, gripping his dick as you ride out your second orgasm. As if on queue Yeonjun relases his cum inside you, halting his thrusts. He continues to kiss you making sure you feel loved and wanted, his member still buried inside you. 

“You were amazing for your first time princess.” he praises you once again, you kiss him in response. 

“Lets do it again please.” you giggle. 

Yeonjun kisses up your neck, his cock still rock hard. 

“Whatever you want love.” he responds, thrusting into you again. 

© wonustars

[ilyuu-archive]

sweet aroma & ink.

ft. kazuha, scaramouche & xiao.

warnings : modern au, college au, florist!kazuha, barista!scara, songwriter!xiao, cursing (scara), ooc, strangers to friends (to lovers), i’m putting that in parentheses because it’s more implied than anything.

a/n : this was an old draft i’ve had like,, months ago that was 3/4 of the way done before i’ve given up on it so,,, heh surprise? :D

kazuha.

that one florist that gazes at every single flower, bouquet, that comes in his touch with a brush of fondness. whenever he talks, his voice and words brings spring to mind.

it catches his eyes with its colors, scents, and meanings, its feelings, in the droplets that clings onto the petals - that and he catches the eyes of everyone who passes by, inside the small space or by windows. he greets with every one of them with a gentle smile, his eyes softening, and sweeps them off their feet.

his days are more than alright to him - after classes, surrounded by the fruits of all inspiration and poetry, he likes to think, and brings in nothing but comfort.

and a ring of a bell tugs him out of his thoughts.

the look in your eyes is like a breath of fresh air.

there’s something about it that makes it more of a pleasure to talk to you - whenever you stare at a flower in particular, star-shaped petals, a pure white as smaller ones are a violet, as it hangs its head, he’s tempted to simply go off on a tangent on its beauty, though simply sticks to the book on its name.

“hoya belle,” he says, and his voice, with how warm and soft it sounds, is music to your ears already. “that’s their name. a gentle sight, is it?”

“it really is.” there’s a sort of awe in your words that he chuckles to himself at, catching your attention. “oh?”

“apologies. i didn’t mean to laugh.”

“ah, no worries. i do seem to be excited over flowers of all things… can’t really help that part of me.”

“and there’s no need to. no reason to hold back your adoration for them either. it’s alright.”

your eyes widens just a bit before turning your head to the side, wearing a smile that’s all over the place that he can’t help but do the same, looking away with a huff of his own.

“can you… tell me a bit more about them?”

his eyes lightens. “of course.”

and you take it all in. with every word he says, it only lights up a question, which further coaxes him to say more. for those few minutes, he indulges you as much as he indulges himself; his curiosity in you simply growing by the second - that is, until the small bell chimes again, and the world around the two of you seems to slip back into place.

you profusely apologize for taking up his time and he shakes his head (a voice asks “what time, when it all felt so short?”) he excuses himself and, while tending to the trickle of customers here and there, his eyes kept straying back to you.

off to the seed packets hanging on a racket, off to dote on some of the flowers on display by the windows, off to the ceiling and walls with slithering ivy that adds its charm. he captures every little moment.

so it came as slight surprise for him, for some reason, when you came up to the counter, holding a packet of their same flowers the two of you were talking about earlier. “this one please.”

he simply smiles.

something bloomed, and no, it isn’t the flowers.

you come to visit him here and there, and his shift seems to pass by a blink of an eye whenever you do, enjoying the seconds, minutes, and hours on all sorts of flowers at first, before moving on to each other. it’s to the point that you’ve already exchanged numbers!

and you drift away a bit too swiftly for his liking whenever it’s time for you to head out. he makes it out with the rest of the day with the quiet promise you’ve made to him that you’ll spare some time to see him soon.

he catches himself staring at the door whenever business is a bit slow, and only chuckles at himself for his impatience.

scaramouche.

that one barista that makes coffee rather flawlessly, always a distinct taste to each other - sweet or bitter, scorching or cold, and so on.

just a way of earning money, that’s all; it’s good, so he can’t complain much about it. …other than the many, many eyes that stares at him from a distance, and the lot who asks his number. it’s the moment he opens his mouth that either, they’re disillusioned from their fantasy, or they only grow more enamored with his charm.

it’s something he’s grown used to at this point, as much as he doesn’t want to be, and, though he has the pleasure of seeing a familiar face here and there, he doesn’t have much to say about it.

and a new order comes to the counter. it’s 10:13 PM.

a new face. his shifts are longer than life itself, so he’s come to remember a few regulars time from time as a passing thought, so whenever one he doesn’t recognize pops up, they pique his interest for a bit before it fading just as swiftly.

you didn’t, and for good reason too.

“we’re closed.”

“i know, i know, but it’ll be real quick!”

he should’ve locked the door first thing after the last customer left. he heaves a sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if it’ll do anything to whisk away the person at said door - aka you. his other hand held the stick end of the broom, sweeping up what others couldn’t even throw away even when it’s five inches away from them.

he digress.

“if it was real quick then you should’ve been here before we closed.”

“i mean… if you think about it, it technically helps the economy.”

“by a fucking perc- no, maybe even less than that.” for the umpteenth time in these five minutes alone, he sighs. he looks up, and you stare back at him. the quiet stretches on for a bit. “…will you leave right after if i do?”

you perk up. (cute.) “yeah!”

at that, he sets the broom aside on the counter and, with a wave of his hand, beckons you over just so he could get it over with. all you wanted was a pair of cake pops which he physically cringes at. it didn’t escape your notice.

“not a fan of sweets?”

“i’d rather keel over and die than eat one.”

“i’ll take that as a no then.” a puff of laughter leaves you and it somewhat lightens his mood. silence follows again and it’s the same as before - it’s not a bad type of quiet. “…the cookie ‘n crème one, two of them.”

“eh, not bad.”

“you tasted them before?”

“only once. …don’t give me that look, it wasn’t because i wanted to, alright?”

“s-sure… pft.”

he huffs. it feels like a load off of his shoulders and chest for some reason, and he’s not going to start question that now. it’s too late for that and every part of him is aching from standing around for too long, from evening to nightfall. it just seems that you make said pain fade a bit into the backdrop.

nothing much to think about.

the two of you start to meet each other a lot after that one night - at the same time. you keep coming in late, he caves in, the two of you banter for a bit, and then you leave with your cake pops. then the cycle repeats.

it’s a nice little routine to have at this point, and, as much as he likes to deny it, a bit of a highlight of his day.

you don’t come in every night, of course, yet those nights seems to be the most loneliest boring of all.

then those meetings ooze into evening, few, seldom, but he finds that he doesn’t mind that much if it means seeing you.

you find yourself being a part of his life and as he is to yours.

he makes your coffee a bit more bitter. and, yeah, sure, a bit might be a understatement from the person who likes bitter things… maybe that’s why your features scrunches up at the first sip and, from the first time, your gaze grazed over the counter, only to soon land on him - it’s satisfying seeing the way your face falls with flattened eyes.

he asks himself why he hasn’t turned you away that first night sometimes. eh, maybe it was just because you were fun to talk to, someone he can pass the time with.

just maybe.

xiao.

that one songwriter that’s always found at one of two places - the cafe or the flower shop. says that it gives him the inspiration he needs, and the truth of it is in the way his hand jots down word after word in his notepad, humming a quiet tune to himself.

he seems to fade into the backdrop whenever murmurs start to grow around him about him - eyes a pool one can drown in, eyeshadow a nice touch, his hair adding to his look. hey, at least some of their compliments (those were compliments, yes?) acts as some lyrics.

nothing for him to complain about - other than the sea of oohs and aahs he’s heard, aimed at him or one of his friends (which is putting it lightly, he thinks), the silence he’s always lived in is something he welcomes with a nod. not much that he wants to change, other than to pursue his dream.

and said dream makes space for one more person.

he’s starting to see you more often.

whenever he has a moment to spare after classes, you’re there. his spot at the corner of the café - the world around him falling quiet to the melody he’s testing, bittersweet and soft in his headphones, and then sees you not too far off from your own seat, taking a tentative sip of your coffee.

it proves not to be enough as a sudden wave of bitterness rushes on your tongue. xiao catches the way scara turns around, his shoulders shaking subtly.

his spot hidden away in pots and all sorts of flowers - there’s this burst of beauty he can’t pin, staring at how the petals swells, just shy of its time to bloom. he starts stringing a line of words together, enough to try and describe a simple sight into a lyric, only to then see you strolling in with a wave.

it’s as bright as the sun itself, shining through the panes of glass. xiao catches the way kazuha returns the gesture (with a bit more of his calmer energy.)

other than the fact that you’re new, he didn’t know much, and he wasn’t interested to. that’s the thing - all past tense. it’s the little things he starts to notice about you from a distance… as a bit creepy, as scara had so kindly put it, as it is.

he can’t find a reason to talk to you. that and neither does he feel is right to just walk up to you and start a conversation. so… maybe… for now… this’ll be alright.

of course, change is nature. nothing was going to stay the same forever just for familiarity, as much as he silently wished for.

he forgot a small item - a pencil, something he could easily replace. in memory? in feeling? as you walked up to him that one time, telling him that he left said item on his usual coffee table as you held it at the palm of your hand?

his mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

“…thanks,” is all he said. his hand slowly settled in yours, curled in, and, in record time, pulled back.

“no problem!” that smile of yours already lights up a fire on his skin, something that he can practically feel. he blows out a sigh as if the heat in him will seep out.

“if there’s nothing else then i’ll…” he’s already turned his head to the side, both an indication of his direction, and as to mask the color on his cheeks that he’d prefer if you didn’t notice.

“wait!”

and wait he did. he didn’t even notice how his hold on the strap to his case tightened just a bit, didn’t even feel the rough surface against his hand.

“oh, sorry that was, uh, a lot louder than it needed to be. wow.” the heat in your face is starting to set in, and, now, he didn’t quite mind feeling as warm as he did right now.

“it’s alright,” and nothing else than that.

“a bit awkward, but i’ve always seen you around and, well… i’d always thought you were pretty cool.” you’re scratching the back of your head at this point; it’s also at that exact same point he realized just he lik— admires you. “so i was wondering whether you’d like if we…”

you laid out your other hand to him.

“…be friends?”

he hesitates, his fingers curling into the palm of his hand, but only for a moment. xiao then recognizes the warmth in your hand sifting into his, and vice versa - tingles thrum through his skin.

it was from both your touch, and the smile on your face, it has to be.

“i’m [name].”

it took him a bit to recall his. “…xiao.”

“nice to meet you, xiao!”

and you said it in a way that made him think you meant it.

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

Phileas Fogg and Touch Aversion

I'm going to try to resurrect a post I had written on twitter a while ago when I still had an account there (and when it was still called twitter). It's long, so bear with me, and do keep in mind that these are just my hc's and there's always room for interpretation.

***

So one thing that becomes clear about Phileas from the start is how much he tries to avoid physical touch. Even with those he knows well, like Grayson. Look at how stiff he is here, how he avoids eye contact, how he leans back a tiniest bit.

This physical discomfort is even more obvious with strangers, of course. Especially with strangers who threatened and intimidated him only hours earlier. Even when the contact is no longer a threatening one (you all remember senor Moretti, yes?)

Remember the aborted hugs? The man is so excited to see Passepartout alive that he forgets himself for a moment....

...only to remember at the last minute and have the hug become nothing more than an awkward (safe?) handshake

or, in Abigail's case, a near-pat on the arms

But it's something deeper than just simple intimacy avoidance. There seems to be a discomfort, a fear almost of physical closeness with ADULTS. I'm going to veer onto a slight tangent here that ties into my hc about Fogg's childhood and take a look at this scene in the desert:

Remember how incredulous Passepartout was when Fogg asked him to move because he, ostensibly, couldn't pee otherwise? "I thought you went to boarding school" he said, the implication being "why are you so afraid of having someone stand next to you when you pee?"

The whole situation is funny to Passepartout (and meant to be so to us as well), but Fogg doesn't appear to be amused in the slightest. He pleads, actually pleads with Passepartout to move. And look at how uncomfortable he is. How he tries to block out Passepartout's presence.

And look at this moment here. This is where Passepartout whips out his joystick &starts watering the sand. Look at that cringe, that nervous swallow. I'm not saying this man was definitely traumatized in boarding school, but... he was definitely traumatized at boarding school

This is not to say that he can't handle physical contact at all. He can and does when the situation demands it. When it's a matter of life or death, for instance.

But notice the reluctance, the uncertainty even here.

The only time he DOESN'T hesitate? When someone else needs it, needs HIM.

When it's him alone however? Even when the touch isn't remotely threatening?

He freaks out and tries to run.

And when running is not an option? Freezes like a deer in the headlights.

This moment here shocked him so completely that he drew a blank on all thought, and it wasn't until the lieutenant had uttered the word "coward" - the word that keeps driving him forward - that he snapped out of it

It's different, of course, when it's Estella.

He doesn't shy away from her touch. Welcomes it instead.

Initiates the hug and follows through

Estella is safe. Estella cares about him. Estella would never hurt him. But that kind of safety, that kind of certainty - it doesn't exist where other adults are concerned. Not yet. So he errs on the side of caution and stays back when everyone around him is hugging and celebrating

Doesn't respond to enthusiastic shoulder pats and friendly arm squeezes when he makes his triumphant return home. He looks uncomfortable. Lost. Wary.

Compare that to Abigail's reaction in the same scene

But there are also others whom Phileas is comfortable with, in addition to Estella. Those whom he doesn't view as a threat: kids.

Look here at Alberto plopping to sit down right next to him. Phileas doesn't even flinch. Accepts his presence easily with no discomfort shown

Smiles at Alberto just as easily, too.

Look at Noori here. She grabs him by the hand, drags him behind her. He doesn't mind one bit.

Look at Fogg's reaction when that girl runs out to hug him. He is surprised but not frightened. He goes soft and maybe even a little happy. He hugs her back. He thanks her.

Now look at the difference when Abigail goes to do the same. He stiffens immediately. Pulls back. His whole posture screams "get away".

It doesn't mean he doesn't WANT the physical touch. He does. Longs for it, in fact.

But he believes he lost his chance for this closeness, he mourns the loss of it, and he doesn't think it's for him anymore. He's also likely afraid to test if what he believes is true.

BUT... But... There's a silver lining to all this. Because there IS character growth for him in more ways than one, and he DOES become braver and stronger in more ways than one. And in the end he DOES dare to reach out and he DOES find the courage to NOT pull away.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading :) And please come check out my ATWI80D fics where all of this is explored in greater (and angstier) detail. ;)

[thefantasyden]

Harmless Puppy

Pairing: Jeongin + Neutral Reader

Genre: SMUT

Warnings: Breeding, slight impreg kink, Hybrid AU, dirty talk.

Word Count: 800ish

Summary: Needy dog hybrid! Jeongin. Kinda switchy? Goes from hard and possessive to soft and sweet UwU.

Jeongin's hips rubbing against the outside of your thigh for the third time in ten minutes had you scowling at him, flicking his forehead gently in warning as you did so. You were sure he should know better by now.

"Can you please stop humping me like some kind of animal."

He knew this game, however. He knew that you'd already be getting flustered every time you felt his bulge pressing against you, dirty thoughts flooding your head as you felt how hard he was. He knew you. He knew what you liked.

"Why?"

His leg was thrown over yours, trapping your side against him as he ruts against you, nibbling at your shoulder. His teeth are anything but gentle as he feigns a sort of innocence that is not even slightly convincing.

"I'm a harmless puppy, come on."

As his hand crept down to the front of your shorts, your scowl drops and you find yourself easily giving in to the hybrids tantalising touches against your sensitive skin. The more his fingers rubbed over the fabric covering your already wet pussy, the more you felt any sense of stern authority leaving your body and brain.

"You smell delicious."

He was pulling you on to your side so that you were facing him, his leg between yours pressing hard against you, urging you to grind your hips down against his thigh for some brief form of relief.

"You know what a puppy's favourite thing to do is?"

Moans flew from your mouth as his exploring hands got rougher, almost manhandling you until he had somehow manoeuvred you into a position that had you face down, your ass in the air for him being so incredinly inviting as he slid your shorts down to your ankles.

"Breeding our Owners."

His back pressed to your chest and his cock nestled against your slit, hips rutting against your ass. Something about how wild he was with you and how instrictual everything became drove you mad and you had no thought of resisting as he continued his filthy tangent.

"Will you let me do that?"

Your hands grip at your pillow as you moan in response, pressing your ass back against him and wiggling enticingly. The feeling of him so close to where you wanted him could have had you begging if he had waited any longer.

He mercifully chose not to waste any time, pressing two fingers into you and immediately setting a steady pace as he fucked you with them. You had to admit that he had the most wonderful hands and he sure as hell knew how to use them.

"Feel good? Hm?"

"Fuck yes."

Nails grazed your back as his free hand slid up it, coming to a stop on the back of your neck.

"It's a good thing we keep you prepped, huh? Don't have to waste any time."

As the words left his mouth, his cock replaced his fingers, his length filling you until you were practically crying against the fabric of the pillow your face was pressed against, unable to do anything but take his cock as he set a bruising pace, thrust hard and fast causing the sound of skin on skin to meet your ears in a hypnotising rhythm.

He growled with every thrust he gave, baring his teeth and leaving painful purple marks across the expanse of your shoulders in his (gentlest) desperation to mark you as his for the world to see.

"You like taking this cock?"

He practically spat his words, the need to possessive you like some kind of sought after trophy fuelling each one, his thrust somehow getting harder.

"I'm gonna fill you until you can't take any more."

The biting at your shoulder becomes more aggressive, and you're shocked he's not drawing blood as he loses himself to his animalistic nature.

"Gonna fuck my cum into you until you're properly bred. You're gonna look so good with my cum dripping from your pretty cunt."

You were so close, ready to beg for release until he pulls out, turning you over on to your back before pushing his cock back into you, his arms resting beside your shoulders to cage you in against your bed.

His demeanor had changed, painful bites being replaced by soft kisses, his thrust slow and deep as he whispers desperately against your skin, his impending high filling him with something akin to panic as he's hit with the full weight of every feeling he thinks he has ever had.

"I'm all yours, right?"

There was something laced in his voice that was almost a mix of hopeful and demanding, your own voice sounding weak as you responded.

"A-All mine. Only mine. And I'm yours- fuck!"

You couldn't hold back, his lips against your neck being what pushed you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you didn't register your nails digging in to his back so hard that he hissed, the pain only pushing him further.

"Fu-uck, gonna cum."

His thrusts were harder but less precise, your legs locking around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried deep inside of you.

"Cum in me."

You were panting and whimpering as you spoke.

"Breed me, please."

He came within seconds, your hand moving from his back to lace with his beside your head, whimpers and growls coming from him as he filled you, rolling his hips against you slowly.

"Thank you. Love you so much."

He clung to you as he came down from his high, rolling the both of you on to your sides so that he could wrap his arms and legs around you, keeping his cock in you.

"I love you too, honey."

[justabigassnerd]

Unexpected Bond

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 7,340

Warnings - inaccurate police stuff, injuries, blood, knives, hospitals, swearing, mentions of being harassed/made uncomfortable

Summary - while on patrol, Lucy and Tim help an injured teen and while tracking down her attacker, Tim finds out he has a protective, paternal side

A/N - hey y'all! I know it's been a hot while since I wrote anything and I'm so truly sorry for that. but in binging The Rookie, I found myself wanting to write something for Tim Bradford and so this came to light and so I'm posting it as a test (a Tim Test if you will) to kinda gauge how y'all feel about me writing for a new fandom (again still not finished the show so please don't spoil). As per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sun was shining in Los Angeles as Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen drove around on patrol, eyes ever so often flicking around in search of illegal activity.

“Come on, you’re seriously not going to let me put the AC on? It’s so hot.” Lucy complains, fighting the urge to stick her head out of the window to get some relief from the sweltering heat inside the shop.

“You know the rules, Boot,” Tim says, sparing Lucy a brief side eye before focusing back on the road. Lucy lets out a slight huff, mentally reminding herself of how much longer she has to obey Tim’s rules before she becomes a P2. Before Lucy could open her mouth to reply in a last-ditch effort to convince Tim to put the AC on, a woman runs out of the nearby park, arms waving wildly and calling out towards the police cruiser.

“We need help!” At the woman’s yells, Tim pulls over, both him and Lucy getting out of the shop as soon as the engine has been turned off before hurrying over to the woman.

“What’s the problem?” Tim asks, a neutral and level tone to his voice to not cause any more panic. In response, the woman begins leading Tim and Lucy into the park, going on a tangent about how she’d been on her morning jog when she stumbled across something she thought was suspicious at first. One glance at Tim and Lucy could tell his patience was wearing thin with the woman skirting around the issue.

“Ma’am, what did you find?” Lucy asks, already bracing herself for what she might find.

“I found this teenage girl curled up on the bench. I thought she was a junkie or homeless so I went to try and move her or something but… she’s bleeding.” The woman says, pointing out the teenage girl curled up on the bench, hand clamped on her side.

“Chen, radio for help.” Tim orders, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on as he approaches the bench, kneeling alongside it while he assesses the damage as best he can.

“Hey kid, can you hear me?” Tim tries, looking from the wound to your face, trying to see how responsive you are. He could tell your breathing was laboured and shallow so all he wanted to do now was treat the wound as best he could and keep you conscious. As Tim gently moves your hand away from your injury, you let out a slight moan of pain, attempting to curl further into yourself.

“I know. I’m sorry. I need to try and slow the bleeding.” Tim apologises softly, hand clamping down on your wound, bunching up the material of your shirt to act as a barrier to prevent any further blood loss. When you groaned in pain once more and blindly swatted at his hand, Tim used his teeth to pull the glove off his spare hand, dropping it on the floor and grabbing your flailing hand in his.

“Okay kid, just squeeze my hand when it hurts. Sound good?” Tim says, getting your response, squeezing his hand tightly, whimpering quietly. Since his plan to try and get you to talk to him wasn't working, though he could only blame the blood loss, he needed to do what he could to ensure you stayed conscious.

“Ambulance is on its way, ETA two minutes,” Lucy says, approaching Tim and watching as he tends to your wound.

“Can you make sure no one crowds around? Paramedics will need quick and easy access and it won’t be easy with these guys watching like it’s a damn circus. But if there is anyone who might know what happened, get a statement.” Tim mutters, aware of the forming crowd, phones in hand as they document the event like they were at a concert. With a nod, Lucy steps back and approaches the crowd, letting them know that the situation is being handled and that they need to get back to their own business.

After a couple of minutes, the ambulance pulls up, and the paramedics soon appear alongside Tim.

“She’s been bleeding since we found her and even before that. From the looks of things, it might be some kind of stab wound. She’s been virtually unresponsive besides squeezing my hand and making a few sounds. She’s definitely out of it because of the blood loss so she needs urgent attention.” Tim says, doing his best to explain the situation with the limited knowledge he had.

“Okay, we’ve got it from here.” One of the paramedics says, easing himself down alongside Tim to assess the damage. Tim carefully moved his hand away from the wound to let the paramedic get to work. As Tim moves to gently release your hand he feels you squeeze tighter as the paramedic begins to place a bandage over your wound to prevent further blood loss until you make it to the hospital.

“I’ve got to let go kid. The paramedics need to do their job.” Tim whispers, a softness to his tone that not many get to hear. At his words, your grip loosened enough for Tim to gently extract his hand before he stepped back, allowing the paramedics to get on with their job while he crossed to Lucy.

“Did anyone see anything?” Tim asks, standing in front of Lucy as he folds his arms and glances around.

“Nothing concrete. Most people around only saw her after she collapsed.” Lucy says defeatedly, closing her notebook and tucking her pen away.

“We’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital. Stick around until the kid’s in the clear and see if we can get a statement.” Tim says with a nod, already beginning to turn around and head back in the direction of their shop with Lucy hot on his heels, radioing control to let them know what they’re going to be doing. Once they get in the vehicle, Tim begins the drive to the hospital fighting the urge to speed the entire way.

To Lucy, it felt like they had gotten to the hospital in record time and she was nearly bursting at the seams to make a light joke about it to Tim but she also didn’t feel like being on the end of a death glare or being made to walk outside the shop while Tim drives. The two enter the hospital and after Tim questions a nurse about the teen girl just brought in, they’re given directions to the ward you’d be in and that you are currently being prepped for minor surgery to control any internal bleeding and Lucy didn’t miss the flash of worry that covered Tim’s face at the mere mention of surgery. The two made their way to where they had been directed and once they reached the waiting room, Lucy took a seat while Tim played the pacing game. Lucy could’ve sworn that Tim pestered the nurses almost a hundred times a minute about any updates regarding your surgery.

“Tim, they’ll let us know when we’re able to try and get a statement from her,” Lucy says, glancing up at Tim as he strides past her once more, stopping him in his tracks.

“I know that. I’m just… worried. Seeing a kid hurt is never easy. I just want to find out who did this to her so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Tim says with a sigh, head bowing slightly before glancing over at Lucy who softens a little at her TO’s words. She knew he wasn’t always the hard-ass he presented himself to be in the station, but seeing him so worried about a teenager’s wellbeing was like seeing a whole new side to him. Before Lucy could speak once more, a nurse approached the two, making Lucy get up from her seat.

“Thank you for your patience officers. The surgery has gone smoothly and we’re transferring her to a room now. There will be a bit more of a wait until she comes around before a doctor will assess whether she’s in a good enough condition to be questioned. You’re free to continue your patrol if you wish and we can contact you when she’s ready.” The nurse says, addressing both Lucy and Tim who glance at each other after the nurse has finished talking.

“I think we’ll stick around, thanks,” Tim says with a polite yet curt nod towards the nurse, watching as she walks off before turning to face Lucy.

“What if we’re needed? We can be helping out on the streets and just wait for a call from the hospital before coming back to get a statement.” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim with a shocked and confused expression.

“Who’s in charge here, Boot? If they need us, they’ll radio us. For now, I’d rather wait here, get the kid's statement and stop this guy before another kid gets hurt.” Tim says firmly, resuming his pacing as Lucy sinks back into the uncomfortable waiting room chair, pulling out her phone and texting Jackson in the hope he’ll be able to respond.

After an hour and a half of Tim pacing back and forth and Lucy flipping between texting Jackson and scrolling through various social media, a nurse approaches the two again, stopping Tim in his tracks while Lucy shoves her phone in her pocket and stands up.

“She’s come around and the doctors have cleared her for you to take a statement. However, I will warn you she hasn’t been the most talkative so I don’t know how easy it’ll be to get anything out of her.” The nurse says, leading Tim and Lucy towards the room you have been moved to for recovery.

“Thank you. We’ve got it from here.” Tim says, reaching for the door handle to enter the room.

“Oh, one last thing. We haven’t managed to get a name out of her yet so if you manage to do that please let us know so we can contact whoever necessary.” The nurse quickly adds, making both Tim and Lucy nod before Tim pulls the door open and enters the room with Lucy close behind.

“Hey, kid. I’m Officer Tim Bradford and this is Officer Lucy Chen. We were the first responders on sight when you were found in the park.” Tim introduced both himself and Lucy, noting how shy and withdrawn you looked and made sure to take a gentler approach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you guys…” You mumble sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze flicks down to your hands to avoid eye contact. Truthfully, you had recognised Tim’s voice the second he started speaking. You don’t think you could ever forget a voice that made you feel so safe in the most terrifying moment of your life.

“Don’t apologise. You suffered a lot of blood loss so it’s understandable that you don’t remember everything. We’ve shared our names, can we get yours?” Tim asks, watching you quietly as you nod.

“It’s y/n. y/n l/n.” You say quietly, briefly glancing up at the two officers, noticing how Lucy noted down your name.

“Have you got any family we can contact?” Lucy asks, looking from her notebook to you as you shake your head.

“No family.” You admit, feeling heat creeping into your cheek as your gaze dropped once more and both Tim and Lucy exchanged a look at your admission.

“So, are you in a children’s home then?” Tim asks, fighting the urge not to frown when you nod your head, confirming his suspicions.

“If you could even call it that.” You mutter, causing Lucy to smoothly change the subject.

“Is there anything you can tell us about who stabbed you?” She asks, both officers noticing how your hand came to rest atop where your injury was.

“I didn’t see a face, he had a hood covering his face. It was the early hours of the morning and all I remember was a guy grabbing me and then the next thing I knew I was stabbed.” You explain, feeling useless that you couldn’t provide more to help.

“And did the stabbing happen in the park? Where we found you?” Tim enquires further, wanting to put together as many details as possible.

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t been sleeping so well recently so I sneak out and go on walks in the morning to energise myself enough to get through the day. I don’t have a specific route on these walks so maybe… I don’t know.” You say, sighing lightly as you rack your brain for any memory of what happened to you.

“Maybe what?” Tim prods gently, wanting to get as much information as possible.

“The home I’m in really isn’t the best. Most of the kids there end up as drug dealers or in gangs. Maybe I walked onto some gang territory without realising it or maybe I stumbled across something I shouldn’t have I don’t know.” You mumble, trying to make sense of all the information in your head.

“Are you part of any gangs?” Lucy asks, not wanting to sound accusatory but needing an answer.

“No. Not at all. I’m probably the only teenager there who doesn’t get involved in any of that stuff.” You quickly clarify, shaking your head to exaggerate your point.

“But… I’m not the most popular kid in the home either. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the kids tell their gang members it’s okay to mess with me.” You continue with a shrug, making Tim’s heart hurt at how small and defeated you look.

“Is there anything else you can remember from the stabbing? Anything that could help us identify your attacker?” Tim asks, folding his arms across his chest as he speaks.

“The guy said something, I can’t remember what. But he did have a crazy deep voice. I didn’t know someone could have a voice that deep. I’d probably be able to recognise his voice if I heard it again.” You recall, feeling like you’re scraping the barrel of your knowledge of what happened. At your words, Tim unfolds his arms, digging into his pocket for his card and crossing the room to hold the card out towards you.

“Thank you for your help. If you remember anything else feel free to give us a call.” Tim says with a soft smile, watching as you carefully extract the card from his hand, flipping it over a couple of times and studying the words on it as you nod lightly. As Tim and Lucy move to leave your hospital room you speak up.

“Officers. Thank you… for saving me.” You say, nervousness gripping your stomach as you talk. You knew you had nothing to feel nervous about, after all, they had saved your life.

“No need to thank us, kid. Just focus on getting better.” Tim says with a nod while Lucy bids you a soft goodbye before they both exit your hospital room.

“Okay, Chen we’re going to find out what home y/n is in and then we should scope out the area. Find out what we can about the kids that are in gangs.” Tim says as the two make their way through the hospital.

“And hopefully find someone with a deep enough voice that y/n recognises,” Lucy adds as they both get into the shop.

“I’m hoping we can track the guy down ourselves. I’d rather not have to drag the kid into this if I can help it.” Tim says, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot while Lucy busies herself with trying to find out what children's home you’re in. At Tim’s protective words, Lucy raises an eyebrow and smirks lightly.

“So all that talk about me adopting a puppy and you’ve gotten yourself one of your own.” She muses jokingly, watching as Tim glances at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“I did not adopt a puppy. This is a kid who was hurt and there’s a chance she could get hurt again if we don’t do something about it soon. I want to catch the guy who did this to her and get her someplace safe if this home is as bad as she’s making it out to be. You, however, felt bad for someone who stole your car.” Tim defends, trying not to let on how worried he truly is about you. Lucy, unconvinced by his words, nods and focuses her attention back to the computer. 

“We’ve got a location of the home. Let’s head over there.” Lucy reports, giving Tim the address and beginning to do further background research as Tim begins driving in the direction of the children’s home. The drive didn’t take long from the park where they had found you and as they neared, both Tim and Lucy began to understand why you had said it wasn’t a good home.

The children’s home was located in a run-down area, just one look around the neighbourhood and anyone could tell that crime thrives in it. Just the mere presence of Tim and Lucy was already garnering them weird looks as they parked outside of the children’s home and exited their shop, crossing to the front door and knocking on it before taking a step back to wait for someone to open the door.

“What do you want?” The door is thrown open and Tim comes face to face with a short man who quickly notices Tim and Lucy’s uniforms and straightens up.

“Sorry. What can I do for you officers?” He amends his words, painting on a large smile that anyone could tell was fake.

“I’m Officer Bradford and this is Officer Chen. May we come in?” Tim asks, already beginning to make his way towards the door as the man holds it open to allow them both in.

“Let’s talk in my office. I’m Stan.” He introduces himself and leads the two towards his office, a small murky room piled high with paperwork.

“A teenager who is in your care, y/n l/n, was found stabbed in the park not too far from here. Do you have any idea who might’ve done this to her?” Lucy begins as Stan takes his seat behind his desk.

“y/n was stabbed? That’s a real shame.” Stan says, making Tim cock an eyebrow at his faux sincerity.

“She’s in the hospital recovering from her injuries. Again, do you know of anyone who might like to hurt her? She mentioned that a lot of the kids around here wind up involved with gangs. Do any of them have reason to hurt her?” Tim asks, watching as Stan shrugs lightly.

“If I’m honest, the kid was an easy target. She’s been here since she was practically a baby so being the longest-running kid in the home is bound to put a little bit of a target on your back.” Stan says nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair while Lucy notices Tim clench his jaw.

“So you’re telling us you allowed those kids to pick on her just because she was an ‘easy target’ in your eyes?” Lucy asks, hoping that somehow she was wrong in how she interpreted Stan’s words.

“I know who those kids hang out with. I’m not looking to put myself in the line of fire for her.” At Stan’s words, Tim was unable to hold himself back from an outburst.

“You willingly let kids bully y/n because you were scared of the company they keep? Maybe they wouldn’t go out running around in gangs if you looked after the kids that are supposed to be in your care.” Tim says lowly, edging closer to the desk and bracing his hands on it, leaning closer to Stan to get his point across.

“Tim, let’s not do this. Stan, if you think of anything that might help us find y/n’s attacker, give us a call.” Lucy says, gently guiding Tim away from the desk before placing a card down on the desk and leading Tim out of the building.

“y/n is not going back there. I won’t let her.” Tim says the moment they leave the home, practically seething with rage as he makes his way back to the shop.

“I know this home clearly has some serious issues but you won’t be able to just up and move her as easily as you might think,” Lucy says, getting into the vehicle as Tim starts the engine.

“I’ll find a way. I’ll find the ass that hurt her. Find a way to prove Stan doesn’t give a shit about the kids in his care and then I’ll make sure y/n has someplace safe to go to once she’s out of hospital.” Tim says as if he held all the answers in his newly formed plan.

“Okay, you’re getting worked up about this so let’s take lunch and talk this all through. We’ll try and come up with a game plan to find the guy who hurt y/n and after that, we’ll tackle the other problem.” Lucy says calmly, doing what she can to make sure Tim relaxes, knowing he couldn’t go around the neighbourhood with this attitude. At her words, Tim lets out a long sigh before nodding and beginning to drive in the direction of someplace to get food.

After finding a place to have some lunch, Lucy and Tim sit down opposite each other and begin to talk through the minimal facts they have about the case so far.

“She was stabbed in the morning, I’d assume maybe an hour or so before we found her.” Lucy starts, consulting her notebook.

“But she wasn’t stabbed at the park so we can assume she walked from where she was stabbed to the park. Maybe she was looking for help.” Tim says, lifting his drink to take a sip.

“We could radio the unit that arrived on scene after we left and see if there are any blood trails that might help us find where the stabbing happened. Maybe the attacker tried to ditch the weapon nearby.” Lucy muses, leaning back against her chair as she thinks.

“If it’s a gang member I doubt they’d be stupid enough to leave the weapon nearby. But then again there’s always the chance so it might be worth a try.” Tim admits, finishing his food and downing his drink while Lucy does the same. As they dispose of their trash, Tim’s phone rings, making him dig it out of his pocket to answer it while Lucy waits.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Officer Bradford, is that you?” Your quiet voice comes through the other end of the phone, timid as if you were afraid of bothering him.

“y/n, is everything okay?” Tim asks, an instant bout of worry gripping him.

“I’m sorry if I called at a bad time I just… I remembered something about the attack and I don’t know if it’ll help.” You say, and Tim can hear the worry and fear in your voice of potentially being an inconvenience to him.

“No, you’re fine. I’ll swing by the hospital and you can tell me about what it is you remember. Does that sound good?” Tim says gently, doing his best to reassure you over the phone.

“Okay.” You whisper before hanging up the phone and leaving Tim to turn to Lucy.

“Was that y/n?” Lucy asks, studying Tim’s reaction carefully.

“Yeah. She said she remembered some stuff about the attack.” Tim says, shoving his phone in his pocket and making his way towards the shop while Lucy follows behind.

“Do you think this information will help us find her attacker?” Lucy asks as she gets in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to pressure her. But we’ll do what we can with it.” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive, once again, to the hospital.

When they arrived at the hospital, they headed straight to the room you were in and knocked on the door before letting themselves in upon receiving your permission.

“You came.” You said, the smallest, shy smile on your face when you realised that they had come when you asked and both officers had noticed the notebook and pencil you had in hand.

“Of course,” Tim says with a nod and a gentle smile.

“You like drawing?” Lucy asks gently, moving to sit on one of the nearby chairs, easing herself down gently as you shake your head lightly.

“Not really. I just remembered one detail about the guy who attacked me and I figured it would be best if I try to draw it.” You admit, attempting to tidy up the rough sketch on the paper.

“What was the detail?” Tim then asks, easing down into the other chair as they both watch you quietly.

“The guy who attacked me had a scar that looked like this on his hand.” You say, flipping the paper around and showing it to Tim and Lucy.

“That looks like…” Lucy begins.

“A brand.” Tim finishes, glancing from the paper to you as you nod.

“There’s a kid in the home I’m in, Kevin, he’s always acted really weird around me and even asked me out a few times despite knowing how uncomfortable he makes me. I know he’s part of this gang and all the members are branded somewhere on their bodies. I know Kevin definitely wasn’t the guy who stabbed me but I think he asked one of the other members of his gang to hurt me.” You explain as Lucy takes the sketch from you, studying it closely.

“This Kevin, has he ever threatened to hurt you to your face?” Tim asks, already fighting back the seething rage beginning to build up.

“Never outright. But the last time I rejected him he did tell me that I’d regret it.” You say, remembering that moment from a couple of nights ago.

“And did he ever… do anything else?” Tim enquires further, hoping for a specific answer while preparing himself for the worst.

“No. I don’t know if he ever would’ve tried anything, but growing up in that home meant I knew where all the best places to lay low were when he did get extra clingy. And I also try to spend as much time out of the home and away from that neighbourhood as possible.” You explain, fiddling with the corner of the cover laid across you.

“So you believe he told a member of that gang to hurt you because you wouldn’t date him?” Lucy clarifies, feeling her heart break when you nod.

“Okay, we’re going to try to find that kid and talk to him about this gang of his,” Tim states, moving to stand up and exit the room with Lucy following behind.

“Wait!” Your desperate cry stops Tim in his tracks, making him turn to face you.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks, worried as to why you had reacted like that.

“Don’t tell Kevin or anyone I told you about this. If they find out I squealed… I don’t know what they’ll do to me.” You say, vaguely hearing the increased beeping coming from the heart monitor in your panicked state.

“Hey, y/n, take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Tim quickly strides across the room to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and getting you to look up at him. He takes a few exaggerated deep breaths which you mimic shakily, each breath coming smoother than the last until you’ve regained control of your breathing and your heartbeat has begun to settle into a steady rhythm once more.

“That’s it, kid, just like that.” Tim then praises gently as he feels the tension leaving your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze before releasing his grip. As Tim lets go, you lift your hand to wipe at your suddenly watery eyes, trying not to flinch at the slight pain from the movement.

“We won’t tell anyone there about what you told us. I promise.” Lucy says, knowing that the number one rule of being a police officer was that they couldn’t promise anything but seeing how Tim nodded lightly in agreement confirmed that this was one promise that they could make.

“We’ll go and try and find information. But we won’t mention you at all. They won’t know you told us. Promise.” Tim assures you, stepping back and joining Lucy by the door.

“Hang tight, y/n. We’ll stop that guy.” Lucy says with a soft smile, folding up the sketch she still had in hand and putting it in her pocket with your permission before both she and Tim exit your hospital room, making their way back to their shop to go in search of further answers. They make their way back to the neighbourhood of the children’s home and instead of heading to the children’s home, they do a walk around the area, both of them noticing how people watch them carefully, wary of what they might do.

“Someone around here has to be a part of that gang y/n was talking about, right?” Lucy asks quietly, walking alongside Tim as they observe their surroundings.

“I’d put money on it. But we can’t exactly go up to them and ask. We have to be subtle.” Tim says, noticing how they were beginning to approach two teenage boys who were leaning against a wall, talking amongst themselves.

“Don’t usually get cops around here.” One of the teenagers says, loud enough for Tim and Lucy to hear, making them exchange a quick look before they turn to face the teens.

“We’re patrolling the area. Got a problem?” Tim accuses, folding his arms across his chest as he stares down at the two teenagers.

“Patrolling for what?” The other asks, both of them clearly unafraid of Tim and Lucy’s presence.

“There’s been some incidents around here and we just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Lucy lies easily, hands resting on her belt as her eyes flick between the two boys.

“Are you accusing us of what happened with that bitch this morning?” One of the teens suddenly becomes accusatory, making Lucy raise her eyebrows in slight shock at the tone.

“No one’s accusing you of anything. In fact, neither of us mentioned an incident this morning. Is there anything you can tell us about it?” Tim then asks cooly, noticing how the teens twitch a little in their realisation about being caught out.

“It wasn’t us.” One of them says, instantly on the defensive, his voice harsh.

“We’re not saying it is you. We’re simply asking if you know anything.” Lucy says, holding a hand out to try and calm the tension she could sense building.

“We don’t know anything.” The other teen says, both of them then turning on their heels and stalking off somewhere else.

“As suspicious as that was. They didn’t do it.” Tim states, letting out a soft sigh and watching them walk away.

“Neither of them had a deep voice. At least not one matching y/n’s description. But did you see-”

“One of them had the brand on his arm. We’re definitely in the right place.” Tim finishes, eyes flicking around the streets in search of other people to question.

“Can I help you, officers? I’m Toby.” A deep voice comes from behind Tim and Lucy, making them exchange a look before they turn to face the owner of the voice. They quickly came face to face with someone who looked to be in his early twenties, he was not much shorter than Tim and they could only assume he did a lot of heavy lifting with how he was built.

“There was a stabbing this morning. A girl about fifteen years old was the victim. Do you know anything about it?” Tim asks smoothly, not showing any signs of suspicion as he watches Toby’s reaction.

“A stabbing? I haven’t heard anything about it.” He says, shrugging lightly before folding his arms across his chest, displaying the brand that you had described on his hand/

“Nothing at all?” Lucy prompts, glancing from Toby to Tim who nods the slightest amount.

“Nothing.” Toby confirms.

“That’s funny. We did some investigating and apparently her attacker was part of the same gang with those exact brands. According to some people we spoke to, the attacker had a deep voice and had a branding scar on his hand. Would you like to revise your answer?” Lucy says, staring down Toby whose calm and collected look shifts and soon a knife is being brandished towards the two of them, making Tim grab Lucy’s arm and pull her behind him.

“She should’ve thought twice before she turned down Kevin. The bitch just got what she deserved.” He says angrily, knife pointed directly at Tim to keep them at a distance.

“I think she’s well within her rights to turn someone down if she doesn’t like them,” Tim says calmly, not wanting to aggravate him any more.

“Kevin is my bro and I’ll look out for him like he’s my own family. If that means getting rid of some bitch who won’t date him then that’s what I’ll do.” Toby says, making Tim clench his jaw.

“Alright. I’ve heard enough.” Tim states, fed up and angered by what he’s been hearing. Without warning, Tim lunged forward, grabbing Toby’a wrist, and twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor before pinning his arm behind his back. Tim then pulls his handcuffs out of his belt and handcuffs his hands together while Lucy radios control to let them know of the situation.

“Grab the knife,” Tim instructs Lucy, already pushing Toby towards the shop while Lucy does what she’s asked. The closer they get to the shop, the more Tim becomes aware of the pairs of eyes watching them. He gets Toby into the shop then both Tim and Lucy get into the front seats.

“Are we going to let y/n know we got the guy?” Lucy asks, briefly glancing back at Toby before looking at Tim who nods lightly.

“Once we’ve processed this asshole I’m going to head back over to the hospital and let her know we’ve caught the guy,” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive over to the station.

“That’s good. I think it’ll be good for her to know.” Lucy agrees, nodding slightly and focusing her attention on the passing scenery.

“You’re wasting an awful lot of time focusing on her. What makes her so important?” Toby grumbles from the backseat.

“No one asked for your input. You and that other kid are the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.” Tim says angrily, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to glare at him. The rest of the journey back to the station was relatively quiet, with Toby attempting to speak up every so often, only to be silenced by Tim’s silent glare.

When they made it to the station, Tim and Lucy processed Toby as quickly as possible, practically shoving him into one of the cells the moment they were able to and finish up the paperwork in record time.

“Are you coming with me or not, Boot?” Tim asks, already making his way back towards the shop after finishing processing.

“I’m coming,” Lucy says, rushing to Tim’s side, both of them get back in their shop and make their way back to the hospital. Upon arrival, the hospital seemed much quieter, meaning Tim and Lucy didn’t have to swerve through seas of people to make their way to your room. When they reach your room, they knock once more and enter with permission, both of them smiling at you as they walk in.

“We’ve got some good news,” Lucy says with a smile, noticing how your eyes lit up the slightest bit at her words.

“We apprehended the person who hurt you. He’s not going to get near you again.” Tim says, his smile matching Lucy’s as you smile at their words.

“Thank you.” You whisper, fighting back the threat of teary eyes as the relief sets in.

“We’re just doing our jobs. No need to thank us.” Lucy says softly, approaching the bed and taking your hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m going to open an investigation into the home. See if I can get it closed or something. Or at the very least get you moved somewhere else so you don’t have to deal with that Kevin anymore.” Tim adds, watching as you look from Lucy to him.

“You don’t need to do that.” You start.

“I do. Nothing about that place is safe for you. Even when we do get the okay to arrest Kevin, that home isn’t a stable or safe environment for you. So I want to do what I can to help you out.” Tim says, smoothly cutting you off and stepping closer to your bedside, his gaze soft as he looks down at you.

“I don’t want you guys potentially getting hurt on my behalf.” You mumble, wiping at your eyes with your free hand to prevent any tears from falling.

“Let us worry about ourselves. All you have to do is worry about getting better. We’ll handle everything else.” Tim says reassuringly, his gentle smile calming and encouraging as you take some deep breaths to calm down.

“I owe you both so much.” You say gratefully after you’ve calmed down, smiling shyly at your saviours.

“You don’t owe us anything. We were just doing our jobs.” Lucy says softly, her smile still as gentle as ever. The three of you continued to converse for a few more minutes, both Tim and Lucy noticing how you became more confident in talking to them, but Lucy had noticed how you were more comfortable with Tim. And she hadn’t missed how Tim had practically switched into a whole new man around you. He was much softer and fatherly towards you. After a few minutes, Tim notices the time on his watch and sighs lightly.

“We should head out,” Tim says regrettably, glancing over at Lucy who nods softly.

“Look after yourself y/n,” Lucy says as they cross to the door.

“If I don’t die of boredom first. There’s nothing to do here.” You say with a light chuckle, lying back in the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’m sure if you ask a nurse they could find you something to do.” Tim says apologetically, offering the best solution he could think of at the moment before both he and Lucy bid you goodbye and head out to finish the rest of their shifts.

The rest of their shift went smoothly, the only crimes they encountered being things like reckless driving and noise complaints. By the time they had made it back to the station for the end of their shift, Tim wanted to input his request for an investigation into the children’s home you had spent your life in. He wasn’t usually picky about which detectives might take his investigation requests but he wanted to make sure Angela picked up this case. He knew she’d keep him in the loop and let him help out if he wanted. After talking to Angela and getting her on board with looking into the home, Tim thanked her and then headed out to his truck.

On his way back to his house, Tim drove past a store, pulled into the car park and found someplace to park after remembering he needed to pick up a few things. He entered the store, grabbing the things he needed before stumbling across a book aisle in the store. He stood in front of the aisle for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, digging into his pocket for his phone and stepping into the aisle.

Unbeknownst to Tim, Lucy had also entered the store five minutes after he did, not even aware that Tim was there. She browsed the aisles, searching for what she and Jackson needed until she also found herself by the book aisle. She looked up the aisle and saw Tim standing in front of a selection of books. One hand holding a book, the other holding his phone as he studied the screen intently.

“Looking for book recommendations?” Lucy asks, chuckling to herself when Tim jumps, head whipping around and visibly relaxing upon realising it is Lucy talking to him.

“I was just- y/n mentioned she was bored so I thought I’d grab her a couple of books to give her tomorrow so she can pass the time until she’s out of the hospital,” Tim says, showing Lucy his phone and how he’d been looking up popular books for your age group to pick out the best ones for you.

“Here, let me help.” Lucy offers, taking the book from Tim’s hand, inspecting it quietly before nodding and putting it in Tim’s basket before plucking another book off the shelf, and handing it to Tim to judge after reading the blurb herself.

“You know… you could foster y/n if you wanted.” Lucy says softly after Tim puts the book back, and grabs another to look at.

“What?” Tim asks, no anger behind his voice, but confusion.

“You’re really good with her. It’s clear you care about her and she’s comfortable with you. Fostering her would keep her out of the home while the investigation is ongoing. Plus it would keep her safe and away from that neighbourhood.” Lucy explains herself, watching as Tim falls silent, putting the book he had in his hand in his basket.

“I don’t know. My career isn’t the safest thing in the world and I don’t want someone to potentially use her to get to me.” Tim explains with a sigh.

“I get that. It’s your choice. But she definitely feels safer with you than anyone else.” Lucy says softly, offering Tim one last book before turning on her heels to make her way through the rest of the store, leaving Tim alone.

When Tim gets home, he’s greeted by Kojo who rushes over to Tim happily, demanding to get attention which Tim is more than happy to provide. Once Kojo trots off, happy to entertain himself while Tim unpacks the things he bought. As he unpacks, he sets aside the two books he and Lucy had picked out for you, as well as a few packets of candy and chocolates. Tim was sure he was going overboard but he wanted to make sure that what was left of your hospital stay was pleasant.

After organising everything, Tim makes himself dinner, making sure to feed Kojo while he waits for his food to cook. Once his food is ready, Tim sits himself down to eat and watch the football game he’d been waiting to watch all day. However, as he watched the game, he found himself distracted by the option Lucy had brought up to him at the store. He knew she was right, he couldn’t deny how much he had come to care for you in a short period of time. But he also didn’t want to risk bringing more harm to you through his job. Tim’s focus on the football game began to dwindle as he debated the idea of fostering you back and forth in his head. As if he could sense Tim’s dilemma, Kojo approached Tim, hopping up onto the sofa and resting his head on Tim’s leg, letting out a soft whine while Tim pets his head. Eventually, Tim concluded his internal debate as he was putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Upon finally concluding, Tim grabbed his laptop and returned to the sofa, settling down alongside Kojo once more, opening it and typing in one simple question.

‘How to foster a child?’

[ssahotchnerr]

one more aaron hc: if you're someone who constantly needs to be playing with something (hair elastic, jewelry, etc) but you have none available, he would let you play with his fingers.

not even in a sexual way-- more like he would let you trace his palm, touch his fingertips, even let you pick at his fingernails.

here and now

okay i'm putting an anxious!reader take on this🥺 cw; established relationship, description of anxiety, so much fluff i want to cry

your quickened breath. that was the first thing aaron noticed.

as subtle as it was- extremely quiet as you were attempting to keep it maintained and discrete- it didn't fail to invade his ears. it also helped that he was seated right beside you, and besides, he knew you and all your tells.

and so, his eyes shot downwards to your lap, to your hands more specifically. as he expected, you were repeatedly clenching your fist, while attempting to hold your focus to the conversation at hand. every so often you changed tactics, your thumbnail pushing into the side of your index finger for a second or two, and then your knuckles would constrict again. more so, you were trying to hold onto something.

aaron's eyes lifted back to reid, who was going off on a tangent on how a mathematical sequence related to the geographical profile and to the unsub's comfort zone as a whole. keeping his gaze forward, his hand snuck below the table, easily finding the one that was his perfect fit.

as his hands were large, twice the size of yours, his palm completely enveloped your hand as a whole. quickly, he slipped his fingers under your own, resting between your fingers and palm.

at the contact, you nearly pried your hand away, glancing at aaron and widening your eyes in slight alarm. while in the field and to both your agreement, pda was kept to the absolute minimum. there were the rare occasions the rule was broken, in instances of high concern or danger, but it rarely happened. so aaron crossing that boundary, was almost unheard of.

you met his eyes, your own full of question and confusion.

what are you doing? here? now?

aaron shook his head briefly at your silent words. the two of you understood each other so well, there were times you didn't need words to communicate. loaded looks, variating different meanings appropriate to whatever the situation may be, did all the talking. it was more than enough.

his gaze softened deeply, those brown eyes you loved dearly expressing so much you couldn't put an accurate word to fully summarize it. all you knew, it made you feel safe. loved.

it's okay. i know what i'm doing.

you instantly relaxed at this, your shoulders dropping from the tension plaguing them. you hadn't even realized how much they had stiffened. or quite honestly, you hadn't recognized your anxious tendencies either until aaron had addressed them.

your fingers relaxed in his instantly this time.

at the touch his hand was rough, yet so incredibly gentle at the same time. it was a signature you only knew as aaron's. likewise, they offered you a familiarity that immediately grounded you, beginning to rebalance your raised heart rate.

still unnoticed by the others in the room, you pulled his hand further onto your lap, granting yourself more access. aaron even scooted his chair a few centimeters closer to yours.

your fingertips began to lightly trace his palm, falling into a cycle between moving to his fingers and back again. as you did so your clouded mind began to clear, the discussion at the table beginning to make more sense as you slowly refocused.

next, your fingers grabbed ahold of aaron's. your fingertips danced along his, playing with them gently before folding your hand into his.

once fingers were intertwined together, aaron lightly squeezed your hand. he longed to bring a kiss to your knuckles, and was disappointed the setting prevented him from doing so, but that was a matter he could easily solve later at the privacy of the hotel. or even sneakily attempt once everyone rose from the conference table, distracted.

this time when you peeked at aaron, his lips were raised into a small smile. it would go unknown amongst the others, but you recognized it. again, a subtle characteristic of aaron's only you would know.

just as he had, you returned the gesture and tightened your grip on his hand for a couple seconds, relaying your thankfulness and how much love you held for him.

again, the two of you didn't need words. he knew.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."

"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.

"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"

Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.

A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.

"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.

Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.

"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.

He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"

"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.

Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.

"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

It turned out that Jaskier's idea of helping was having the girl perch on Geralt's shoulders and scan the top of the crowd for her father while he stood playing silly little dittys to keep her from crying again. Geralt holding onto her shins lightly and trying to ignore the mess being made on his cloak by muddy feet.

"I see him! Papa! Papa!"

Geralt tightened his grip slightly as her weight shifted with her frantic waving. Waiting until he was clearly making his way over to them before setting her gently back on the ground.

"Mika! Oh thank the God's." He turned his attention to the two men, his eyes widened as he took Geralt in fully.

"You're-"

"Hmmm."

Geralt tried to hide his surprise as the man grasped his hand in a firm if slightly clammy grip. "My thanks Wolf. I swear, if I went home without her my wife would make sure I shared the same fate as that Hag from the song of yours." He said, smiling awkwardly at his own attempt at humour, "Come on Mika, say goodbye. Oh, here."

He reached into his satchel and pulled something out. Geralt could smell warm sugar as he handed it over. "It's not much, but I don't know a single person who doesn't like cake. I could do with cutting down myself." He said, patting his own slight paunch before taking his daughters hand with a final "Thank you." Mika turning back to give a wave which they both returned before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What?" Geralt asked as they left the town. The bard hadn't stopped grinning at him like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Nothing. It just, the timing and everything. Seems Destiny agreed with me for once. The songs are making a difference."

"Hmm." Geralt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that." Jaskier said, swatting Geralt in the side as he unwrapped the package Mika's father had given them, "You saw as well as I did there were plenty of town guards around but she went to you. She wanted you. Oooh, maybe this would be good for a new song. The Gentle Wolf! Yes I- hey! "

"No cake for you until you stop." Geralt stated, popping a piece into his own mouth to hide his smile.

[celaenaeiln]

Ive been reading the older comics (1950s) of World’s Finest, and I just realised Batman is so smiley and full of expression while Superman kind of isn’t. Is there a reason for this change or is it just the authors and time changing haha

YES!! Yes to both but I have so much to say about this because it's not just about time changing, but the way real life changed is intertwined in the comics in their character growths.

Batman

Let's start with the grim avenger. Here's the thing - the grim avenger wasn't grim because he had Dick Grayson by his side and I'll explain how the medal ages and Bruce's happiness is connected to how close Dick was to Bruce and the relationship Dick had with Bruce influences his view later on of his father in comparison to how the rest of the batkids see Bruce.

As you said, Bruce was the happiest he's ever been in the 1950s. He and Dick had the time of their lives, sunshine, glory, joy, adventure - you name it and they had it all. This was the Golden Age.

Batman (1940) Issue #46

Detective Comics (1937) Issue #95

But as time passed, Dick eventually began to grow up. When the Teen Titans first formed, the Golden Age of comics transitioned into the Silver Age as Dick began to work more independently from Bruce but was still close. The Bronze Age was when Dick was on the cusp of leaving and then just left (1970s-1985s).

The reason I'm bringing this up as to why Bruce changed, it has to do with Dick. When Dick went off to college, Bruce actually shut the cave down and moved out of the manor with Alfred because he didn't know how to be Batman without Dick. He said he was going on a little soul-searching to find himself again.

Batman (1940) Issue #217

But real-life readers got really mad this and said, "Bruce was always a grim detective. When he was with Robin, he was too happy! We want to see him angry like he used to be!" So the writers realized that Bruce turning away from Batman was huge mistake so this set forth the grim avenger batman thing again.

Dick also feels the same way, that him moving to college was what changed the dynamics between them.

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

Granted Bruce is mad that Dick decided to drop out of college in favor of being Robin but it's also about the fact that Bruce wouldn't have responded like this before. Something's changed. And overall it can be summed up to Bruce being angry, frustrated, upset, and lonely with Dick gone, those emotions compounding into a new or renegaded form of Batman, Dick coming back and realizing - he doesn't want to be controlled and he doesn't want to be this new darker version of Bruce. The change in idealisms were Dick is more light-hearted and Bruce is slowly becoming Darker weighs on Bruce too.

Bruce's pov of the situation -

Batman (1940) Issue #138

Dick's pov -

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

Dick didn't want to be like Batman, Bruce was already upset but Dick's gradual distance from who he was turning into combined with his frustration of himself - it led Bruce to become the person he is now, someone he doesn't like and it's this circling self-hatred of what he become that keeps him perpetually angry and moody.

It's so important to talk about this because it's not just a time change, it's actively part of the comics. It's part of who Bruce is and why he is this way now. To explain more on what I said and elaborate further on what you said about Bruce becoming less smile-y :

Batman (1940) Issue #359

He lashes out at Dick, feels bad about it, and grumps over how he can't trust anyone in the world and this just keeps continuing over the years.

Tim and Dick actually talk about this too, the idea that Bruce was different with Dick then he was later on. Going on a slight tangent here but during one time in Gotham Knights Dick gets "dismayed" at Tim because Tim questions Bruce's morality and Dick's like "How dare you! He's a good person, he's amazing." And Tim's just like "No, he's not??"

Batman: Gotham Knights Issue #26

Dick grouches about this with Barbara and she tells him -

Batman: Gotham Knights Issue #26

slayy

Again what she says "First of all, the Bruce who raised you and the Bruce who works with Tim are not exactly the same man. Tim has had a very different experience, and is likely to have very different thoughts and beliefs."

Tim says it too in Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying when he's comparing Dick and Jason's Robin eras -

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying

And Dick talks about it again with Checkmate in the Checkmate (2006) comic about how he used to make Bruce laugh. He's quiet for a moment and then they talk somberly about how Bruce never laughs anymore.

So to sum it all up, the reason Bruce changed was because Dick drifted apart from him as he aged and he grew more independent, and Bruce as a result felt stifled and upset by this change and grew more independent too but in a darker way, and all these changes between Dick and him as well as within himself led to him being gloomier and grumpier. The authors also played a big part in acknowledging Bruce changing as a result of Dick leaving but also due to the readers' responses of having Batman return to his stern countenance of a time before Dick came along. Hence the decreasing medal ages that went from a happy Bruce Wayne to the sad and waspish one we know now. But maybe it also has to do with the fact that Bruce and Dick stopped getting to ride the backs of dinosaurs, fight pirates, and play prince and the pauper with real princes lol.

Superman

Clark is a very different story and I think it's because of how it's the reverse of Batman. In the beginning Clark was very - stern? He definitely wasn't smiling or laughing or fuzzy feelings but it wasn't the author's intention for him to be any of that. In the beginning, Superman was portrayed be a powerful and virtuous hero, fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. This portrayal was aimed at providing readers an uplifting and optimistic character during hard times because he was created in 1939 and it was the end of the Great Depression (1929 - 1939) and the beginning of WWII (1939 - 1945). The fact that it was the end of the great depression only made it worse because the depression only ended due to millions of men and women going off to fight war. So it was just VERY upsetting times and therefore Superman was a symbol of hope - for the war.

Superman (1939) Issue #12

Superman (1939) Issue #8

Superman (1939) Issue #34

But as soon as the war ended, you see a shift in the way Superman is written.

Superman (1939) Issue #36

Superman (1939) Issue #76

I guess it all comes down to this - Clark's writers were focused on his deeds. It was about solving problems and that's it. Whereas with Bruce, the focus was on solving problems but it was done through his relationships. He relied heavily on Dick as a partner and best friend and they were able to share their difficulties and have fun whereas Clark had no one, except Lois but in civilian identity. Because of this, it wasn't until later comics when writers started introducing new elements, exploring different aspects of his character, and adapting to the changing cultural and social contexts that these interpretations have included moments of joy, personal growth, and triumphs, as well as challenges, conflicts, and moments of introspection.

Superman: Heroes

It was both the ending of the war and gradually interacting with other characters that made his personality lighter and funner to read. You can even think about it this way - as Clark started to rely more on people, he started to open up and become more light hearted as the years passed but as Bruce began to distrust people and rely less on others, his personality grew darker and angrier. Bruce and Clark went through the same personality changes but Bruce started pretty early on with Dick and lost him leading to a downward turn in personality whereas Clark started with no one then gained Lois and Jimmy Olsen causing an upward trend. Two sides of a coin.

Moral of the story folks: learn to rely on others or end up like Batman.

[semisolidmind]

Ok I have a question and if I asked this before sorry my memory sometimes bad.

So you said peach's died on the journey with her husband's. How did she die? And did they get revenge for her. Also at this point you would think peach's is there soulmate but peach's not liking it.

And dose she have a Mark of how she died as a brith Mark?

And what was Macaqa and sun frist meating with peach's like?

I really love your work

(tw, slight mention of blood and gore)

went on a bit of a tangent :)

reader was killed during a demon ambush. everybody was busy fighting the demons, and while reader was hiding, one of the demons escaped the warlords' notice. she didn't even have time to scream. it killed her, and then took and ate her body.

macaque was the first to realize her absence, of course. reader wasn't able to make much noise as she died, so he just thought she was scared, but... imagine his horror when he can't hear her heartbeat. he quickly dissapears into a shadow, leaving the fight behind. he checks where reader was hidden, and finds only a small puddle of blood. his breathing quickens as he follows the blood a ways further into the woods. he can feel his rage and anguish growing.

there, in a clearing, a rogue wolf demon seems to have just finished its meal, it's tongue licking the excess gore from its teeth. shreds of reader's clothing lay scattered at its feet, along with her satchel and book.

macaque bears his teeth in an enraged snarl and roars at the stupid beast. struck by grief, he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his face as tears gather in his eyes.

the sound of his anguish echoing against the trees was enough to summon his brother; wukong, covered in the gore of his slain enemies, appears at his side. the king takes quick stock of the situation, and comes to the same heart-shattering conclusion as macaque.

she's gone. she's gone and this wretched creature destroyed her.

reader is dead.

the rage he feels rivals the burning of the stars.

the two bring down the full fury of their combined might upon the wolf demon. the warlords drag out their dismantlement, tearing the stupid creature apart peice by peice. once the offending beast is little more than a visceral stain on the ground..

...the brothers hold one another, attempting to ground each other through the torrent of their pain. they've lost their one, their only.

their dear reader, their beloved peach....she's dead. all because they took their eyes off her for a second, all because they were made to come on this cursed journey. were they not charged with protecting that blasted monk, they could have prevented this. wukong and macaque come to the same conclusion; they will not soon forgive the ones who brought them here.

the monkey demons gather reader's things, holding them as gently as glass...it's all they have left of her. not even a body to bury back home on their mountain.

the other pilgrims need only see these items and the baleful, enraged, tear-stricken looks on their companions' faces to know what must have happened. wukong and macaque say nothing as the monk says a prayer for her.

the two leave for a while.

they don't come back for three months.

when they do return to the journey at the behest of the heavens, they are reserved. withdrawn. they keep to themselves, only intervening when the pilgrims are in danger they can't solve themselves.

———

the monkey king and the six-eared macaque complete the journey. they refuse their new titles; the rage that simmers in them is far too great for the roles they've earned.

the monkey warlords go home. they grieve, properly this time, alongside their subjects.

the next few hundred years are especially brutal for any enemies of flower fruit mountain and it's king. without his queen, he forgets what it means to be merciful.

———

many centuries later, wukong finds a little monkey demon boy, seemingly sprung from the same stone he did. wukong adopts him, names him xiaotian, and teaches him to become a ruthlessly efficient warrior.

the child grows up hearing the occasional story about the mountains' queen, a once-mortal woman who held his father's (and uncle's) heart in her hands. his caretakers can't bring themselves to speak about her often, but they speak softly and fondly when they do. he hears stories of her adventures on the mountain; how she made friends with her subjects, worked in the kitchens and orchards, and cared for the mountain's children.

both wukong and macaque tell xiaotian that reader would have loved him dearly.

the small shrine in the palace temple (a satchel, a heavy book with nothing written in it, a few scraps of bloodied cloth displayed next to daily offerings of peaches) and furniture in his father's room (the combs, hairpins, and perfume bottles untouched but lovingly dusted) don't tell him much about who "reader" was—but the stories from the people who knew her do.

he wishes he could've met her.

———

when the boy reaches a certain age, he asks to go stay in the mortal world. his father reluctantly agrees.

xiaotian goes to the city, battles the dragon girl mei, befriends her, and allows her to teach him how the city works. she takes him to a noodle shop belonging to one of her friends, a gruff but earnest pig demon named pigsy. there, he meets mei's other friends; a gentle blue giant named sandy (and his cat, mo), a studious yet freeloading human named tang—and a friendly human woman who works at the shop...

...who happens to be nicknamed reader.