#but i had no idea how to make it be more yellow so i looked it up & saw i could use a little green perhaps

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, can I request a continuation of Wasp's twin who took his place?

Maybe something about the team Prime getting worried over Buddy rarely leaving her room? And when she does she just sits in a corner and hugs her knees?

Buddy is also scared of going outside the base, because what if the Elite Guard comes to earth and found her? She will get thrown to the stockade again!

Optimus is like, "i'm not a doctor, but i'm pretty sure this isn't good for her".

And ratchet is like, "i'm a doctor and I can comfirm this is not healty for her, we need to make her come out of her room more as soon as possible".

And then Bulkhead is like, "oh, I know how!", and takes out his art.

He shows his art to Buddy which draws her attention a lot.

Maybe that's how Buddy gets into pottery and knitting, Bulkhead inspired her!

(I'm sending this twice incase it disappears from the inbox)

I'm giving Wasp's twin sister a name! Look for it in the link for established Buddy names!

Hope you enjoy!

Wasp's Twin Sister finds a hobby

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Cybertronian reader

TFA

Ever since the news of the Elite Guard potentially making a stop on Earth happened, the team had noticed their newest member, Vespa, had been a bit closed off.

No, that was an understatement.

Vespa was either always in her habsuite or sprinting across the Plant to get something and go straight back to her habsuite.

Bumblebee tried once to make her stop during one of her sprints.

Bumblebee has Vespa grabbed by the waist. Bumblebee: “Gotcha!” Vespa lets out an unearthly shriek before biting on his servo. Bumblebee: “OW!” Vespa zooms back into her habsuite. Bumblebee is on the floor groaning at the bite marks on his servo. Bulkhead: “That looks like it hurt.” Bumblebee: “You think!”

Yeah, the yellow scout stopped trying to stop her after that.

Soon enough Optimus called in for a mini meeting to discuss Vespa’s situation.

He was no medic, but he knew that what she was doing definitely wasn’t healthy.

Ratchet backed him up, as a doctor, this indeed wasn’t healthy behavior at all.

They had tried to ask what was wrong in the past, but so far nothing has worked.

Optimus had tried to lure Vespa out with a chat, but she just politely patted his pede and left.

Ratchet tried to get her to talk with a medical examine… too bad she knew that she wasn’t scheduled for another physical exam yet.

Prowl tried to get her to go to the park, but that was immediately shot down when she sprinted the other way.

Bumblebee tried to get Vespa to sit down for a movie marathon, but it turns out the yellow bot still didn’t know what types of movies she liked watching yet.

Team Prime were grasping straws, trying to think of any other way to get Vespa to talk to them.

They had tried everything!

Expect…

Sari carefully knocked on Vespa’s door. Sari: “Vespa? Its Sari.” Nothing. Sari: “I’m not feeling good and could really use a friend—EEK!” Sari nearly had whiplash from how fast Vespa’s servo shot out and grabbed her into the habsuite. The bots hiding not too far from the door blinked. Prowl: “I don’t think I’ve seen a bots servo move that quickly…”

It took a couple minutes before Sari would emerge from the habsuite wearing a worried look on her face.

She relayed back that Vespa was worried about the Elite Guard showing up outside the Plant, waiting to snatch her up and bring her back to the stockades.

Oh… that explained a bit…

As the others were trying to think of ways to reassure Vespa that the Guard was not here, Bulkhead suddenly had an idea.

Bulkhead knocks on Vespa’s door. Vespa opens it a bit. Vespa: “Bulk?” Bulkhead: “Can we paint together?” Vespa opens the door a bit more with a confused expression. Vespa: “What ‘paint’ Bulk?” Bulkhead offers his servo to her. Bulkhead: “C’mon I’ll show you! And if you don’t like painting, I’m sure I can find you some other art we can get you to do.” Vespa looked around hesitantly. Bulkhead’s optics soften gently patting her helm. Bulkhead: “No one’s gonna hurt ya little buddy. It’ll just be me and you.” After a minute Vespa gives him a small smile and takes his servo.

Bulkhead makes it very clear to the others for his idea to work, it just needed to be him and Vespa alone.

Given the limited number of ideas, they let him continue.

After about an hour Bulkhead came back to the main room followed closely by Vespa.

She sill looked nervous, but a bit more relaxed.

The smaller bot was covered with wet and dry splotches of clay and paint.

In her servos she proudly presented her greatest creation.

A human sized mug and gifted it to Sari.

It had an atrocious orange and pink coloring, but Sari didn’t dare try and put the bots spirits down.

This made the bot beam with pride, something the team had never seen before.

The smile suited her.

After that day, Bulkhead was slowly trying to get Vespa to start creating things with the pottery set whenever she felt extremely nervous or scared, and it seemed to be working.

 It was a bit of a pain to scrap off the bits of dried and cracked clay from off her armor, but she had to admit it the activity did make her calmer, and she could make gifts for her new friends!

Team Prime swore to take in every one of Vespa’s sculptures no matter how weird looking or horrendous coloring it had.

[witchyvibes91]

Slytherin Boys Break-up Blurb: Part 2

Part 2 of the break-up series. This one is filled with groveling and begging for forgiveness. Enjoy little stars.

Mattheo: You walked through the common room, seeing your friends smiling. 

“What’s gotten into you three?” You asked as you made your way to your dorm. 

As soon as you opened it, the heavy scent of flowers hit your nose. They were everywhere. Your favorite flower filled the room. There were petals all over the floor. Candles that casted a yellow-ish glow. And right in the middle was none other than Mattheo Riddle. 

“I am so, so sorry.” He finally said as you looked at him. You could hear his voice cracking as he spoke. It had been a rough last month without Matt but you weren’t sure you were ready to forgive him. Not yet anyways.

“Matt…” Your  voice trailed off. You were unable to form words as you looked at the transformed room. This was something Matt always did to you, take your words away. In both good and bad ways. Perhaps this was a good way.

“I know. I know I messed up and I know I don’t deserve you, believe me. But please. Please let me at least try to make it up to you, Princess.” Matt pleaded, something you never thought you’d hear before. 

You were staring into eyes when you finally noticed the little box he was holding. A red one with a white bow on it. He held it up and you walked closer to open it. Your hands shook a bit as you undid the bow and opened the box. Inside was the most beautiful bracelet with your birthstone set right in the middle.

“You know you can’t just buy me back.” You finally managed to say. Matt smirked, the smallest chuckle escaping his lips as he stared at you.

“And I’d never expect to. This is just the first of my many apologies to come. Because you, Princess, you deserve this. You deserve this and so much more.” Matt explained through that cracked tone once again. But this time it wasn’t just a crack. It was a full break. Tears sat on his waterline and you could feel your heart breaking.

You weren’t quite ready to forgive him but this was a good start. You placed one hand on his cheek as you kissed him softly, knowing that you’d give him that second chance. And you would be forever grateful that you did.

Theo: It had been weeks since your fight with Theo. Usually he apologized right away but this time you haven't heard from him. Maybe you two really were done.

You were walking through the castle when your phone went off. A text from Theo telling you to meet him in the forest. You almost didn’t but something told you to go. 

As you walked through the dense area, you saw him leaning against your favorite tree. It was the large one right next to the babbling creek. He had the faintest smile on his face as you approached him.

“What is it Theo?” You asked sternly and you saw how sad his eyes looked. There were dark circles under them. He wasn’t sleeping. You could tell.

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t get that stupid fucking fight off my mind.” Theo admitted after a minute of staring at you. He pointed to the tree, seeing the initials the two of you had carved into it months ago.

“I come back to this tree every day and I stare at those letters. I can’t do this, cara mia. I can’t be away from you. And I’m so fucking sorry I ever thought I could.” He admitted before looking back at you with the most solemn look on his face.

You could feel your heartbreaking listening to him. He hurt you. He let you walk out. Fuck. Maybe this was a bad idea. You shook your head as you looked at him.

“It’s too late, Theo.” You whispered as you started to talk away. You took two steps before you felt a hand on your wrist, pulling you back in. 

Your eyes shot up to his blue ones. They stared into your soul, begging for forgiveness. 

“I let you go once. I won’t ever make that mistake again.” He said firmly. He was pleading through his eyes, hoping you would just give him a second chance. He didn’t deserve it. Fuck. He really fucking didn’t deserve it. But you missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit.

“Please, tesoro. Please just…just sit here with me?” 

And you did. You spent the rest of the evening sitting with Theo against that tree, yours and his initials carved just above your heads. Maybe he didn’t deserve this but you didn’t mind letting him talk, explain his side. Apologize. And god did he apologize. He did nothing but apologize over and over again. Maybe he’d get that second chance after all. 

Lorenzo: You still couldn’t believe the way Enzo had acted. It was months later when you finally saw him for the first time. And he looked awful. He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t taking care of himself.

Good.

You didn’t even look his way as you walked past him. The closer you got, the faster your heart started to beat. The pain and anger started to bubble inside of you once more.

“Y/n, wait!” Enzo called out to you but you didn’t stop. You kept pushing forward as your shoes squished across the courtyard grass. 

“Stop! Please, I just want to talk!” He shouted once more, now following behind you. You could feel everything boiling inside of you, not sure if you could hold it back anymore.

“Come on! Just stop!” 

That was it. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You stopped but not because he asked. You stopped because if you didn’t, you were going to boil over and explode. You turned to face him, your hair spinning around you as you whipped around quickly.

“No! You don’t deserve a conversation. You don’t deserve my attention. After what you did, Enzo? Seriously? You deserve nothing but the scum on my shoe.” You shouted at him, much to his surprise.

There was a small moment, a moment where the two of you would stare at one another with a longing–a longing for something that has now been lost into the past. 

After a few moments, you finally turned and walked away. Lorenzo watched you leave. He watched you until there was no you left. His heart was breaking, knowing he’d messed up–knowing he had lost you forever. 

Over the next few months, you received the most lavish gifts, the most detailed letters. Every day, Enzo sent you something. Even if the two of you never spoke again, it made him happy knowing he was still in your life somehow. And you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t want to admit it, you enjoyed how much he was wanting to earn your trust back. And maybe, just maybe, he would.

Draco: It had been five weeks since your break-up with Draco. The pain was still raw but you were trying your best to push through. As you made your way to your next class, you realized you hadn’t seen him much and you wondered why.

You walked into the classroom, heading to your desk before noticing a book on it. It wasn’t a book you recognized. You picked it up, feeling the black leather in your hands and noticing the pages had gold edges to them. Beside the book was a small piece of paper that had your name on it, noting the book was for you.

You opened the book and recognized the handwriting immediately. Draco. A part of you thought maybe you wouldn’t read this, shouldn’t read this. It would only hurt. 

That didn’t stop you. You started to read the words, slowly realizing what this was. The first page detailed Draco’s upbringing. His relationship with his father, his mother. All of it.

You moved on to the next one and with each new page realized he was opening up to you. Maybe he couldn’t say it, but he could write it. 

You read it until you reached the end, noticing how only half the journal was full. There were still plenty of blank pages left but each one was numbered as if it was continuing. 

“I see you’ve found my gift.” Draco called out behind you. You turned around quickly, seeing him standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Draco, what is this?” You asked, still slightly confused why he would give you something like this. He walked a bit closer, his eyes completely locked with yours with each movement.

“It’s me opening up in the best way I know you.” He stalked a bit more forward before stopping right in front of you, “You deserve that, Y/n. I was an idiot for not realizing that earlier and I’m sorry.” 

An apology from Draco Malfoy? You never thought you’d see the day.

You glanced back down at the book, flipping it in your hand before opening up to the blank pages. Draco pointed to it, the silver ring with his family crest in the middle shimmering as his finger touched the empty page.

“And the blank pages? That’s for us to use together. For our new memories. We’ll write in it every day if that’s what it takes to earn you back.” He said softly before finally moving his finger from the page.

“Draco…” You said softly, closing the book. The effort was sweet, the gesture appreciated. But you were nervous. Was this all for show? 

“I promise. I will be as open with you as I can, even if it’s through letters.” He said softly, taking his hand and wrapping it through your hair. 

How could you resist this? You weren’t going to fully cave for him just yet but this was a step. It was a very welcomed first step to getting back to what you once were.

Blaise: You hadn’t heard from Blaise in a few weeks. In fact, you hadn’t seen him at all which was shocking. Blaise was everywhere all the time or so it seemed. Not seeing him on campus was something that should cause concern.

You were walking back to your dorm one day when you saw smiling faces and little giggles in the common room. What the hell was everyone so happy about? You opened your door and there in the room stood Blaise. 

He was standing in pajamas and holding your favorite flowers. All of your favorite snacks covered the bed. Soft music played from the speaker. Your eyes went a bit wide as you tried to take everything in.

“Blaise? What the hell are you doing here?” You asked through a bit of shock. You were trying to process what was happening but it was almost too much. Almost.

“Apologizing. I’m so sorry for what I did. And I know, I know I might have lost you forever but, ma, even if I just have you as a friend that’s good enough for me.” Blaise spoke softly. You could feel your heart racing with every word.

There was something about this moment that made you think, perhaps, you would remember it forever. It wasn’t anything big or special but it was important. To you, it was important. 

“Blaise…” You said softly, letting your voice drop off at the end of his name. His eyes searched yours and he seemed to wonder if you would take his gesture.

“We can spend all day in here. Watching movies. Talking. Eating every snack the house elves could manage to find for us.” He said as his voice ran off into the smallest chuckle.

Always joking, that was Blaise. Even in the most serious moments, he could make you laugh. It was something you always enjoyed about him. He took a small step forward, still holding the flowers in his hand.

“All I need is you. No parties. No outside world. Just you. So, what do you say, ma?” He asked quietly. You thought about it but there wasn’t much to think about. What he did was wrong, yes, but this? This was a great start to making up for it. 

You walked towards him, taking the flowers and giving them a small sniff before setting them on the nearby desk. Your eyes went back to his, those dark eyes that only seemed to sparkle when you were around. 

“A day in here with you sounds perfect.” You whispered before feeling him wrap his arms around you in a hug. You hugged him back and as you did, you felt as if your life problems all seemed to disappear.

You would spend the entire rest of the day with Blaise, talking and laughing about everything possible. It wasn’t a confirmation of a restart of your relationship but it was a push forward. And Blaise loved it. Even if it was just the tiniest bit of attention from you, he loved it because, at the end of the day, you truly were the only thing that mattered. 

Regulus: It had been a year since you had heard from Regulus. There was a part of you that perhaps thought you would never hear from him again. There were rumors he died. Rumors he ran away. Rumors he joined the dark side, fighting for Voldemort. But you couldn’t believe any of it.

You knew Regulus. He would never do that. If he had joined the dark side, it was only to fight from the inside. The worst rumor was the one that he died. You couldn’t bear that thought. You would have to see him, see his dead body before you accepted that truth.

You were walking back from Hogsmeade one afternoon when you got caught in the rain. You were rushing, trying to make it back to the castle when suddenly you heard your name called out.

The voice was familiar, one that sent waves through your body. You turned around to see Regulus standing in the rain, drenched. His long and curly hair was plastered to his forehead as he stared at you.

“Reg?” You asked, almost not believing it was real.

“I’m sorry.” He replied through the rain. Your heart was racing, there was a building of tension between the two of you as you stared at him.

“I’m sorry I left you. But it’s over. It’s done.” He explained and your mind started to race with a million thoughts. He did it. He won. And he came back for you. Just for you.

You dropped your books, rushing up to him and jumping in his arms. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close before he pressed his lips to yours in a heated and passionate kiss. 

“Don’t you dare ever leave me again, Regulus Black.” You said as you broke the kiss but stayed in his arms. He looked down at you with the softest smile on his face. 

“I won’t.” 

And he wouldn’t. He’d never leave your side. For as long as the two of you lived, he’d be right there. For you were the only important thing in Regulus’ life.

[emberunderscore]

guys im going crazy with the edits over here (im sure this has been done with this song before but idc i wanted to)

also guys im going to include the rambling in the actual edit post this time because i actually cannot contain myself . (i went on and on for this one i had a lot of thoughts )

OK BIG ONE COOL ONE WHEN IT SAYS "I'm a worthless human being" there is an overlay during the word "worthless" of the prison scene and the word worthless is layed over sherbert's forehead, think of it like the word worthless and failure going hand in hand because icarus doesn't belive they are worth anything if they are not useful and they cannot be useful if theyre a failure which they wholeheartedly believe they are THATS IT THATS MY FAVORITE PART OF THIS EDIT (not really but shshshshs)

ok back to being in order

"I had left you" and "I forgave you" being right next to each other is SO PERFECT because that part is referencing the cave obviously and immediately after centross dies icarus is like 'get the fuck away from me why did you do that, holy shit you were gonna kill me' and then he tells them he can bring centross back and they immediately forgive him (and its not rlly great editing wise cause obviously theres not much contrast between the clips but the sacrifices we make are very small)

"I forgot you" this line is kinda hard to understand how ive coded it cause centross is on the screen so it kinda makes it seems like im saying they forgot centross but NO! they forgot about fable, they were so focused on bringing centross back that they completely lost sight of fable and his actions and how that hurt everyone around them

then the "said you loved me" I LOVE PUTTING VOICELINES IN EDITS CHAT. I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHHHH. i love when the words and they go together and theyre similar and i go crazy . im knawing at the bars of my enclosure

(i was going to put a voicline of fable's 'you will not survive' from cathedral of war in this part, but only chose not too cause it made the audio too chaotic but its still the clip from when he said that so just KNOW) i really love the "said you'd kill me" part. it just looks really cool to me, please appreciate my work thank you goodnight <3

THE WHOLE NEXT PART. THE BEAT DROP IF YOU WILL.

the text is all shaky, the way ive always imagined this part of the song in my brain is like full mental breakdown, hands pulling at hair hitting at your head . theres something inside of you and you want it OUT and you will hurt yourself to makes that happen . so thats kind of the vibe i wanted to portray, however . im not that skilled and capcut only has so many free text effects so . we make do. i also couldn't put that effect on all the text because for it to look right i couldn't use an 'in' animation for the text so having all of it just appear looked kind of weird so i had to comprimise a little

also the font is called "honest" which . if you know me i love putting subliminal messaging in my font usage when i can which i managed to do a couple times in this edit actually. the font is very jagged which fits for the idea of someone who's reaching their breaking point and all the rotation and bold and italics are all just thrown around there. making em all look interesting . for *flavour*

the other font that's got a cool title and this one i actually only picked because of the title and that's "innocent" its used in a lot of frames like "you possessed me", "you controlled me" and "or he'll hurt me" all times, the word 'me' uses the innocent font, because with the song it sounds like icarus is trying to remove any of the blame from themself, it was fable's fault because he manipulated me i didn't do anything wrong. so they see themself as 'innocent' which is also why that text is yellow cause its about icarus. i wouldn't have used that font if not for the title icl. but it also makes the times when that font isn't used all the more interesting, this can be seen most notably in "said you'd kill me", and both of the times in the "he's still speaking, speaking for me" parts , and i will let you cook on that cause not everything needs to be explained in great detail as much as id like to do that

most of the fonts at this one were just me throwing shit at a wall and seeing what fit the vibe ill be so fr, i knew i wanted a lot of variation cause its a chaotic sounding song and the colours also have very little thought when it comes to the difference between white/yellow/red for the most part . green is for fable and purple is just whatever the fuck i felt like .

final thing i'm going to say when it goes "i'm a [worthless human being" there is no text on that part and i just want it to be known on the record that it wasn't an accident and it was an aethetic choice and i can't come up with a bullshit important reason for why there's no text on the screen for that SINGLE PART and honestly it just looked so shit with text there but it also looks so out of place with it being the only part but im sure many of you didn't even notice there wasnt text there before i pointed it out so . i can also point out all the slightly off timings for you if you wanna see my creation through my critical self-loathing eyes /silly

[yaut-jaknowit]

How bout getting a look at Vic’tao’s and Uihoy’s first time doing the bedtime tango, given how they first I can see this being a slow build up till one of em snaps and makes the first move kek

- 🥤

Burst

Character: Vic'tao (Male Yautja) x Uihoy (Male Yautja)

Warnings: anal sex, knotting, rough, marking, biting, clawing, possessive yautjas (duh), mlm.

Word Count: 2871

Summary: After getting over their major differences, both Yautjas agree to team up for hunts. In close quarters with only each other, tensions can run high. And what's the best way to get rid of those tensions? Fucking them out of their system.

Author Note: Yasssss, they don't know what to do with each other up till this point. All they needed was a small... push. You give the best ideas, thank you so much!

P.s. Happy Thanksgiving yall. I know not every celebrates it. I personally don't. I just like getting together with my family and having delicious food. If you have a shitty family, don't worry. I can save you. Just gotta read some gay smut to make your day better!

P.s.s. Requests are closed. So sorry!

Masterlist

Ao3

Fleeting glances had both Yautjas tensing and snapping their heads away from each other. This continuously happens nearly every day now for the last month. Neither can figure out why they keep looking over at the other. They are desperate to find the source of this distraction. A distraction that cannot happen while preparing for a hunt.

Deep, sharp clicks rolled off of Uihoy’s tongue. The yellow of eyes glowing lightly in the dimmed room of the cockpit. A feeling of an insect crawling its way underneath his skin forced the male to shutter. The purple Yautja pulled his mandibles tight over his mouth and focused solely on a spot on the metal ground.

It’s just a hunt, he chanted over and over in his mind. They were solidifying plans for the moment. Any backup plans in case the hunt somehow turned for the worse. Retreating to live and fight another day.

Yet, Uihoy couldn’t get Vic’tao off of his mind. His thoughts were consumed by the yellow base and blue tinted Yautja. The way the male stood at the console, fingers gracefully typing away. His lethal, lean form stole his attention. Uihoy drew his mandibles tightly inward and gritted his jaw. The muscles that lined his neck flexing at the strain.

These two were brought up to despite the other, even challenge to the death. Except, they’ve gone against their upbringing to live amongst together on Uihoy’s ship. Uihoy could even say he enjoyed Vic’tao’s company. Even going to the fact he thought about wanting the younger male to be around more often than not.

Any opportunity to watch they male move with grace.

His purple scales shuddered. He couldn’t stop his eyes from darting away from the floor and up to Vic’tao. There was the yellow Yautja meeting his gaze all over again. Uihoy had to bite off a groan and clenched his hands into fists. Anything to stop himself from tearing about the console in front of him.

Something in the back of his mind clawed for the surface. A thought that made him turn it almost instantly down. This was enough he could do with right now. (Wanting to woo Vic’tao into mating with him)

A sigh sounded from Uihoy. Said male slipped out of his seat and marched straight out of the cockpit. He needed space, time, and fresh air before he did something he may regret later.

After the fifth time of meeting Uihoy’s bright yellow eyes, Vic’tao vowed to never look at him again. It’s not like Vic even liked Uihoy one bit. Everything he did irradiated him to the bone. It grated at his nerves watching the bulky, stout Yautja work the console like he was born with the knowledge. Muscle memory allowing Uihoy to glance over at Vic’tao’s staring self.

Each time, Vic was caught red handed. Both looking away at the same time. Not in a challenging way. All he wanted to do was admire Uihoy from a safe distance in a common area. Where he won’t be thought of as strange or rude for constantly finding his eyes on the older male. He didn’t think Uihoy would catch him every single time. The Yautja was good.

With a shake of his head, tresses swaying with the movement, Vic’tao refocused on the hologram in front of him. This was considered an average hunt for the average hunter.  At least, the prey was. But the lands weren’t something he was used to. Mountain terrain may drag his form down.

He may be lean and great at climbing towering, monstrous trees. These were a different obstacle to overcome. The face of the mountain terrain they were trekking through was like claws jutting out of the ground, tearing through the sky.

Many call it Paya’s hand. It wasn’t a place on Yautja Prime but a well known planet that those that decide to visit use it for training. The prey are well and plentiful, leaving a snack to a hungry, tired Yautja after a day full of training. Or to those looking to stock up for the next week.

Movement caught the yellow Yautjas attention. His head snapping over towards Uihoy. The male stomped his way out of the cockpit. Vic’tao furrowed his brow once the door slid shut behind Uihoy.

“What just happened?” he muttered to himself then shook his head. The mysterious ways of the homebound Yautjas will forever puzzle him. Mothership born are always much simpler.

That very next day, a pair of yellow and a pair of orange eyes found each other in the kitchen. Fresh meat stock the cooling box. Plenty to keep their bellies full for the next week. Vic’tao chirped quietly to himself, muscles freezing up. Not this again! The Yautja couldn’t believe it was happening all over again.

Vic’tao heavily ignore a burn that settled in the pit of his stomach. The logical sight of his brain shouting, demanding for Vic to take his life by the reins and actually do something!

In reality, the younger male continued to stand there. His feet felt rooted in the spot, molded into the  very metal floors they stand upon. All he was able to do was move his gaze down towards the ground at his feet. Focus on another else besides Uihoy. Don’t look at him. Vic’tao had to constantly remind himself. Uihoy distracted him. It’s all what he’s been doing every time they are near each other.

This time, Uihoy didn’t remove his eyes from avoiding Yautja. Actually, he narrowed his gaze and leaned forward on the kitchen island. Uihoy support more of his weight on his palms.

The small twitches of Vic’tao’s mandibles told Uihoy a wordless story. The younger male avoided his powerful, direct gaze. Uihoy even felt that he may have crossed into challenging territory but didn’t stop. Maybe, a small part of him wanted for Vic’tao to take up the challenge. What could possible turn out in the end one pins the other? Uihoy stood there, consumed by his thoughts for a few long seconds until he realized what had just pass through his mind.

His head jerked back, eyes wide and blinking more times than necessary. This time with Vic’tao… Being in the same ship for weeks upon a time. It as driving him insane! A mothership born and homebound can’t. It’s not logically possible. The differences in culture.

Let alone the thought process. Uihoy is used to nearly dying everyday from a predator on Yautja Prime. What did Vic’tao had to go through?

The anger he attempted to force into his system swiftly washed away. Uihoy rested back on his palms and let his head hang. What was he supposed to do in this situation? His hands curled into fists. This wasn’t the plan. Everything is jumbled mess of emotions he truly didn’t understand.

In his blood, his instinct, he wanted to tear apart the thing created all of these issues for him. It wasn’t the time for talk. There was no words in the moment to quell him. It was time for action.

“Uihoy, are you angry at the counter or something?” the youngster quipped with a short snort afterwards. The words snapped him out of his thoughts. His plan falling apart right before his eyes.

Uihoy raised his head and blinked a few times at the other male. Then, he finally found his voice. “No,” he drawled and tried to a reason from the depths of his mind. “I’m just… thinking.” If Uihoy could, he would’ve face palmed at the stupidity he just displayed.

“Huh. Well, what’s causing you to be upset?” he asked once more. Vic’tao had turned around to face Uihoy, head tilted fully to the side. The blue-gray, thin tresses falling off his shoulder. A singular brow was raised at Uihoy’s direction. “I can smell your anger from all the way over here, you know?”

Ah, there was no denying or hiding such a fact. Uihoy usually has a good control on his scent and emotions. Yet, this was new territory for him. A female… he could understand. The many children he’s sired are evident enough. With Vic’tao, Uihoy stumbled like the first time a combistick was thrust upon in his hands; told to fight for his life.

Was that what he was going? Trying to… mate with Vic’tao? Same sex isn’t seen normally. It does happen amongst Yautjas. At their base root, they must produce children for the next generation. So many don’t follow that route for a same sex mate. Some clans frown upon it, discouraging it for the next for the next generations.

Yet, all of this dancing, all of this toying, avoiding the issue has only caused more issues. The tension between them only building the longer either Yautja dismissed the feelings in their chests.

A snarl tore from the elder’s throat. Vic’s eyes jumped wide, mandibles twitching. His body reacted by preparing for a fight. Uihoy was on him in a flash, quicker than Vic’tao could comprehend. A mighty, purple hand wrapped around the taller, leaner male and held him against a wall. Vic’tao didn’t struggle. His eyes watched every twitch, every muscle that moved.

H'dui'se. Thick, heavy in the air. Both Yautjas tensed up, tongues darting out to taste each other’s scent in the air.

Nearly glowing eyes bored into the other. Uihoy could see it in Vic that he too struggled with these unknown emotions. Not unnatural… just new, unsure about how to feel. Uihoy was done fliting around.

“Strip. Now.” Deep from Uihoy’s voice came a sound that had Vic’tao’s scent doubling. It nearly made the older Yautja dizzy and lose his grip. He growled again and redoubled his firm grasp on Vic’s throat. The younger male didn’t move for a few, long seconds. Uihoy tightened his hand again. “Strip.” And he wouldn’t say it again. He would do it himself.

The seriousness in Uihoy’s eyes had the yellow Yautja undoing the knot on his pants in record time Neither looked away from each other. The clothe had been pulled off to reveal the entirety of Vic’tao’s well sculpted body. Uihoy laid a hand on Vic’tao’s chest and ran his lethal claws down to palm at his wet sheath. He toyed with it by running his thumb between the folds. Vic’tao keened and rutted his hips forward. His hands landed on Uihoy’s shoulders and gripped tightly.

“Don’t you pauk-de toy with me, home-world born,” he seethed and glared at Uihoy from underneath his brows. His hands twitched to turn the tables and pin Uihoy to the wall. Each touch on his sheath prevented him from committing to the thought. “Uihoy.”

Said male grinned wide, mandibles flared out in display and enjoyment. Able to knock the high and mighty youngster made his blood sing. “What was that?”

Sharp nails dug into Uihoy’s shoulders. Neon green blood began to drip freely from the new wounds. In a flash, Uihoy took Vic’tao down to the ground and placed a foot on the yellow Yautja’s chest. When Vic made a move to move, Uihoy added his weight. “Stay.” Vic’tao listened to the older male and watched as he stripped himself as well.

The little clothing he wore as well was discarded somewhere in the kitchen. Each male naked like the day they were born.

Uihoy lets his cock slip free from his sheath. A hand wraps around his girth and gives a few firm strokes. Underneath him, Vic’tao growled and tried to get up on an elbow. But, Uihoy bellowed a warning and verbally forced him to lay back down. Vic huffed and could only watch as the brightly colored shaft twitched against the older male’s hand.

Pleasure and need pooled at the base of Uihoy’s spine. The need to pin the other down was far too great for him to handle. With a snarl, Uihoy flips him around onto his belly and hikes his hips up. Vic’tao claws at the metal kitchen floors at the sudden change. His own cock slides out of its sheath and meets the warm air. It was already soaked and dripping onto the ground.

A thumbpad touched at his tight entrance. Vic tensed up with a yelp before getting a hold of his nerves. He didn’t care if he was on the receiving end. All he wanted was to be connected with Uihoy in some way or another. He shook his nerves off and rutted his hips back. Uihoy got the signal.

The pointed, wet tip was lined up. Uihoy didn’t waste a second on theoretics and shoved his hips forward. Pain and pleasure exploded inside of Vic. His claws tug into metal and scrapped against the floors. His eyes were screwed shut as he attempted to control his erratic breathing. Uihoy groaned at the feeling that ran up his spine.

He tugged his hips back in a fluid motion and rocked forward again. A steady, fast pace was set. All he wanted to do was take and take and take from Vic. Get all he could from the yellow Yautja. Uihoy wanted all of him. He needed all of Vic’tao as his own.

His mate.

As the thought hit him, he didn’t slow. He didn’t stutter. No, his pace increased. The fluid from his sheath aided him. Wet, obscene noises filled the open space. Every thought was consumed by the need to have this Yautja be filled with his essence. He wanted Vic’tao. He wanted his heart.

Once the pain quickly gave way to pleasure, Vic’tao reached for his aching shaft and wrapped a hand around it. “Pauk!” He toyed with the tip and pushed out more pre-cum to use it as lube. Then, Vic set the same pace as Uihoy the best he could. But the older Yautja was going wild, loosing himself in the pleasure and need.

Uihoy hunched over Vic’tao and locked his arms around the yellow Yautja’s waist. This anchored him to Vic’tao and let him keep the same pace. He was able to go harder. The stinging slaps of Uihoy’s thighs to Vic’tao’s butt and thighs only drowned the younger Yautja in more ecstasy.

“Mine. Pauk-de mine. My mate!” Uihoy declared with a roar. Vic’tao didn’t fully comprehend the purple yautja’s words and only went along with it. A heady whine left his throat as he could feel closing in fast.

Cum painted Vic’tao hand and the floor underneath him. He felt like he was bursting at the seams. The pleasure overwhelming to the point he couldn’t think or see straight. Vic’tao yelled out, hand squeezing his tip to push every drop out.

Each clench around his already sensitive cock sent the purple Yautja into overdrive. He didn’t care about the force or the speed of his thrust. He needed to knot him. All Uihoy could think about is marking the whining Yautja underneath him.

Uihoy’s eyes narrowed on the perfect place. Without another moment, Uihoy latched his fangs into Vic’tao’s exposed shoulder. Said male reared up with a cry of pain. Blood pooled around Uihoy’s teeth creating a scar that would bond the two of them. Vic’tao squirmed underneath him. Uihoy only tightened his jaw and mandibles with a thick growl.

It only took two more thrusts for the male’s knot to expand pass the stretch ring of muscles. Vic’tao sobbed into the floor. The ball of flesh pressing against a bundle of nerves inside of him. Uihoy continued to rock his hips the best he could, pouring what seed he could inside of his new mate.

Once the last of the buzzing of energy finally dispersed, Uihoy unlatched his teeth. Both of hands were on either side of Vic’tao’s head to lift most of his weight off of the limp male. Vic’tao was purring away, dazed and content. Uihoy snorted then used a hand brush away Vic’tao’s tress on his shoulder. His mate mark fresh and evident on the younger male’s shoulder. Uihoy couldn’t be prouder of himself at the sight. He could feel his cock twitch inside of Vic’tao.

He leaned down and nuzzled carefully above the wound on Vic’tao. “You did so well, mate. I’m gonna keep you. You’re mine now.” Uihoy purred his own tune to calm down Vic’tao’s wildly beating heart he could hear. One of his hands petted at Vic’tao’s side. “Stay with me, Vic. Please.” Yes, he could make all the demands he wanted but it all mattered to Vic’tao if he wanted to stay after this.

“As if I would pauk-de leave after such a dicking down,” Vic’tao mumbled underneath Uihoy. The purple Yautja couldn’t help but snort at his words.

The hand petting Vic’s side stopped at his hip. With an experimental tug, he was able to slip his knot out of Vic. Said Yautja groaned and tensed up. Cum oozes out of his stretched hole and leaked down onto his thighs then the floor. Uihoy tightened his hold Vic’tao for a moment at the beautiful, delicious sight. 

“Want another?” Uihoy toyed with him.

Vic’tao tensed underneath him for a different reason. “If you don’t get your penis back in me, I swear…” He wasn’t needing to be told twice.

[novankenn]

I had an idea for Mafia AU. Weiss and Winter Schnee. Sisters on opposite sides of the law learn that their father IS responsible for the hit on Jaune. The Arcs leaving have hurt his bottom line and he can’t abide it. Through different approaches the two sisters learn Jacques has hired “The Scorpion” an assassin that can’t be swayed once he accepts a contract. It is a religious matter to him. How do they respond and would the head of the Schnee family survive their response?

Mirror, Mirror in the hall, who do we call?

(A snippet from "a Mafia" & "From Assassin to Sales Clerk" AUs)

Weiss was having the time of her life tonight. Under the strobing black lights of the club her neon pink and yellow twin trail styled hair, and form fitting shirt and hot pants glowed brightly. The world renown singer and heir to the Schnee Family was loving the anonymity her outfit and acts were giving her.

In fact she was currently getting very up close and personal with a very energetic and flirty cat faunus, dressed in similarly bright colors. A quick thought about the young man her father had betrothed her to passed through her mind, making her feel even better about sharing these... intimate dances with Neon.

The betrothal was just another attempt by her father to bring more wealth and power under Schnee influence. The Vasilias were fairly powerful in their own right, and if linked to the Schnee via a marriage between Weiss and Neptune... all the better. Which was why Weiss had been paying more attention to her father's actions... and the family's public and private books.

Which was why she was risking meeting her black sheep of a sister, Winter. Weiss still didn't fully understand why Winter threw away everything her family could have helped her achieve to struggle and slave for pennies as a SWAT member in the AMPD. Weiss licked her lips when she felt Neon's tail brush her behind while moving to coil about her waist.

"Some one's getting frisky." Weiss purred into Neon's ear as she draped her arms over the slightly shorter woman.

"Do you blame me?" Neon purred right back, while leaning in for a kiss.

Weiss' heart was slamming inside her chest and she lowered her head to meet the beautiful girl's lips, when the world exploded in light.

"AMPD! Everyone on the ground now!"

Neon grabbed Weiss' hand and tried to drag her away, but Weiss refused. This was all part of the plan, to speak with Winter, so she needed to stay. Pulling Neon close, Weiss gave her the kiss she had wanted, and then pressed her forehead to hers.

"I need to stay." Weiss whispered. "If you stay with me, I'll take care of you. But if you want to go... I'll understand."

"You promise?" Neon asked as she slid her hand down from Weiss' wrist and intertwined her fingers with Weiss'

"I promise."

"Down on the ground! Hands on you heads! NOW!"

Thirty minutes later Weiss found herself in an interrogation room. She remained silent as Officer Marrow tried to get her to explain why she was attending a rave in a drug den. Weiss just slid a business card to him. A card with the contact details for Detective Winter Schnee of AMPDs Special Weapons and Tactics Team. Officer Marrow picked up the card.

"Okay, Ms Harlequin." Marrow rose from his seat, knocked on the door twice, and before leaving, "Det Schnee will be with you shortly."

Another twenty minutes later, a rather stern looking woman, entered. Her uniform was pristine, and she radiated an air of authority. She said nothing as she took her seat. Before the door closed she gave a nod to her partner, Detective Elm Ederne, who returned the nod.

The pair sat in silence for a minute before the blinking redlight on the camera stayed off.

"Sister. What is it this time?" Winter spoke with a disinterested tone. "As much as I appreciate you trying to stay in... "

"The girl brought in with me. Neon Katt, can you make sure she is released with me?"

"Why?" Winter cocked an elbow as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Is she special?"

"Just to me." Weiss replied, "As for why I did this..."

"It better not be to ask me to a secret birth..."

"NO!" Weiss snapped. "This is important! Danger to the family important!"

"Weiss?"

"I've been looking at the books, and watching father." Weiss reported to her sister, "He's up to..."

"The bastard is always up to something. Legal or illegal. He's always scheming, and fucking people over."

"Well this will fuck us all, if it means what I think it means." Weiss countered. "I think father has issued a contract. I'm not sure for how much, or on who specifically."

"I'll need more information then that Weiss. You know this."

"There is forty million missing from the accounts."

"Shit."

"I contracted someone, Flynt Coal, know him?"

"Why did you hire a Black Hat hacker?"

"To get into Father's personal systems." Weiss explained, "He did, and he found two names. Arc and Scorpion. Do those..."

"Are you positive!" Winter snapped.

"Yes? Flynt drop-boxed me the time stamped screen shots."

"Fuck!"

"Winter, I don't...."

"Get hold of you friend Flynt and tell to vanish. Then you take Neon, introduce her to Mom and Whitley..." Winter paused. "And then CONVIENCE or COERCE her to take you all to Mistral for a holiday. Understand?"

"I don't but I'll do it." Weiss responded. "Can you tell me what is going on?"

"Father in his stupidity may have just killed us all." Winter growled before standing up, and banging on the door. When it opened. "She knows nothing. Just a stupid girl and her girlfriend looking for a fun time. Cut her and Neon Katt loose."

"Everything okay Winter?" Elm asked. "You look a little... stressed."

"We need to speak to Chief Ironwood."

Ten minutes later, Wiess was desperately sending Flynt a message, through a BBS while dragging Neon with her towards the bullhead pads for Atlas proper.

[ducktracy]

i drew this in 2022 but never posted it for some reason. quick scribbly redraws of characters from Eliza Past... reference drawings are from when i was about 15 and 12 respectively. i liked cats

..................and still do since my girl Tyson is also technically a cat. slowly breaking the mold of how i draw my cat characters

[lesbianlenas]

had an adhd zoning out moment where i was trying to mix this paint bc one of my paints dried out bc i haven’t worked on this painting in a yr lol and i got paint all over my hands and for some reason used my leg as a palette which wasn’t that helpful bc when i was like ok that looks right it was too yellow in the end 😔 right at the end i added a little more of the bright orange bc i thought it wasn’t yellow enough but it prob was & my dumb leg didn’t show it right…..but anyway i did that for like 2 hrs by accident 😭

[tonycries]

A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.

Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.8k (wild)

A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.

“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”

Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.

But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were. 

Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.

Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-

Click!

“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”

Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.

If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.

It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.

“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”

It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself. 

Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”

You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”

And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”

Oh? 

And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door. 

Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”

Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment. 

That is, until-

“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”

“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”

You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”

So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes. 

Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-” 

“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”

You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”

“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”

Fuck. 

Was that what he thought it was?

His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.

“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”

It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with. 

Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”

And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet. 

“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs. 

“Wh-what are you-”

“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”

He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch. 

“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.

Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet? 

“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips. 

You were captivating. 

At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”

“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”

“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”

Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing. 

Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”

As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).

But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady. 

“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”

He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”

“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”

If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Ken~”

“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.” 

Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more. 

He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”

Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet. 

“Let me, instead.” he grunts. 

But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem. 

A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer. 

“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-” 

Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants. 

“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”

Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”

And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face. 

But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”

As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.

“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”

And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you. 

“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”

You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”

And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be. 

“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo. 

He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously. 

And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”

At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”

“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.

And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”

But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt. 

“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”

He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.

And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him. 

“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”

Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length. 

You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”

And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise. 

Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.

“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth. 

Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like? 

“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”

You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat. 

He looks so pretty it makes you moan. 

Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls. 

“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to

him all the while. 

“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis. 

Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”

And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy. 

Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil. 

Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does. 

Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”

He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”

“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”

In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right -  Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you. 

With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”

Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now. 

“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”

“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.” 

It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses. 

Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole. 

You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-” 

“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”

Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.

His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-

“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”

But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut. 

And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-” 

The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore. 

“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”

“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”

And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”

He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”

You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.

Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

“Is that so?”

It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”

And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-

“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-” 

In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”

The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds. 

“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”

Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there. 

Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?

It’s what he likes to think.

It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside. 

“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–” 

At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”

“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”

“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”

Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy. 

Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”

“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”

He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second. 

In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”

“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”

You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were. 

“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.

Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”

So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy. 

Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.

Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-

So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock. 

Over and over.

Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt. 

Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled. 

By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-

And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.

“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”

A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[brattyspence]

u up? | s.reid

summary: early season!spencer is reluctant to request nudes from gn!reader while hes gone on a case. warnings & key info: nudes (what an ugly word), sexual themes implied, nothing rlly explicitly stated. a very reluctant and maybe insecure spencer, a hint of teasing  a/n: this is rlly just a drabble but i love the idea of early season!spencer who is kind of nervous to ask for things but also rlly down bad for reader! maybe i’ll make more with this pairing bc its so fun. word count: 1.5k my masterlist!

Spencer flopped back into the queen-sized bed with a sigh. The hotel room was small, the generic beige walls blending into the generic beige room. The only light source he had at present from was the warm, yellow light of the bedside lamp and the screen of his phone.

The team had successfully closed another case. The unsub was apprehended after a week-and-a-half long chase, but he didn’t feel any better.

The relief that followed long cases like this one was different. Of course the week had been long and tiring. He hadn’t exactly slept well between the late nights at the local precinct and the looming anxiety about finally catching the guy. When Hotch made the decision to fly out the following morning to allow the team to get some sleep, he wasn’t so thrilled. 

He had returned to his hotel room, showered off the day (and it’s germs) before attempting to get into bed, but something was amiss. 

Catching the unsub didn’t mean just another solved case, but it also meant coming home to you. Maybe it was selfish, sure. Still, he had looked forward to it all day, and the sudden change in plans threw him off. Here he was, on top of the scratchy maroon bedspread of the hotel, very awake and very much frustrated by the prospect of spending another night apart from you. 

Sexual frustration and Spencer were two things you never would have put together. He was the most patient man in the world to you. Sometimes you still consider it his biggest flaw. When you first began dating him, it took weeks for him to work up the nerve to kiss you first. Sex was another beast. Somehow he wasn’t comfortable initiating anything for fear that he was pressuring you, and it seemed that no amount of reassurance would encourage him to make the first move. 

You were half asleep in bed when you heard the buzz of a new notification. You lifted your head from its spot in the pillow, and patted your hand around to find your phone somewhere in the mess of sheets in your bed. When you found it, you squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright screen in the darkness of your room. He never liked to interrupt you when you were sleeping. It was another one of his obscure demonstrations of love. If you ever texted him past 9 PM, he would delve into a rant about how the blue light of your screen would keep you up all night, or how sleep deprivation could cause a multitude of issues, and “I just don’t want to be the reason you didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

Patient, kind, respectful, and painfully so. 

Which was why you were thoroughly confused when you received what could only be interpreted as a very Spencer Reid version of a ‘u up?’ text at 12:51 AM.

Spencer: Hi. I miss you. Are you awake? 

You: i am now :)  i miss you more. 

Spencer struggled to find the right words to type. He always relied on you dragging it out of him. He drafted a few responses, deleting them immediately. His fingers hovered the keyboard for a moment, contemplating if he should just let it go.

You watched the ellipses come and go as he typed. It disappeared for a few seconds, and then reappeared. Eventually, you decided to call him. 

He picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, maybe more so than usual. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was hoping to hear your voice,” you replied.

“But it’s so late. You should be sleeping, and now-”

“Spencer,” you replied, cutting him off. “I don’t care about that. You’ve never been one to message so late, so I know something must be bothering you. Talk to me.”

You heard the soft rustle of fabric against the microphone. 

“I was just really looking forward to coming home tonight.”

You sighed. “I know. I was looking forward to it, too.”

“I just…” he trailed off. “I was thinking about you all day. Thinking about seeing you, thinking about… just thinking about you.”

“Hm.” You sandwiched the phone between your ear and shoulder before sitting up. The jersey sheets pooled around your waist as you leaned across your nightstand, flicking on the bedside lamp. Your room filled with the soft glow. “Thinking about me?”

“Yeah.” His voice was almost a whisper. “That’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all, honey.” 

You could visualize his reaction through the phone, the same reaction he always had when you pinned down his real intentions. He probably made an attempt to roll his eyes and brush off your comments, but he’d blush seconds later and avoid eye contact, knowing you were right. 

“Why do you… say that?” Somehow his voice was even softer.

“It’s one in the morning, Spence. You never call this late,” you explain. “And you’ve been away for a whole 10 days.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed audibly. 

“Yeah,” you repeat. “So you clearly want something from me.”

Silence.

“Do I need to drag it out of you?”

He huffed.  “It feels really juvenile. And I just respect you so much, and I don’t want you to ever think that I’m using you for anything, or that I don’t value you-”

“Spencer. We talked about this.” 

“Right.” He sighed. He held the phone to his ear with one hand, the other pressing into his eyelids as he formulated a response. 

“So,” you clear your throat, and sit back into your pillows, your phone lying across your chest. “Ask me.”

“I don’t…” he exhales. He’s struggling to come to terms with the fact that you have him figured out so well. He’s quiet for a few seconds before he gives in reluctantly. “I was looking forward to seeing you tonight. Not just talking.”

“Spencer Reid,” you reply, amused. Teasing him was just too easy sometimes, especially when he was so easy to rile up, even if he knew you were just joking with him. “Are you asking me for nudes?”

“I… It just sounds so wrong. Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, come on. Just ask me.”

He groaned. “I don't want you to think that my love for you has anything to do with your body. You know that, right? Because it doesn't. Although I do love… looking at you. That sounded weird. I just mean that I don't want to put you in a position where you feel commodified based on something like your physical appearance when you have so much more to give, and it's not respectful of you. You're brilliant and kind and so, so good to me, and it’s just so vulgar, I think-”

He fell quiet as his phone buzzed in his hands. He could just see the preview of the text you had sent him. After changing the call to speakerphone, he opened it, scrolling through the carousel of photos, taking in the images.

“You think..?”

“Jesus Christ…” he breathed, opening a slideshow of photos you had taken just for him. Sent to him, for his personal use. He would have felt bad about it if he wasn’t so horribly entranced by the sight of them. Whatever was left of his rambling fizzled out.

“You're not gonna finish your sentence?” You asked.

“I…” swipe. “God, I don't remember what I was saying.”

You chuckled. “Does that fix your problem?”

He was clearly short circuiting. “Mhm. It does.”

“See what happens when you ask, Spencer?”

“I feel guilty,” he replied, his voice breathy and quiet. He was clearly having some kind of internal struggle about the ethicality of the situation. It didn’t bother him enough to look away, though.

“Why?” You ask. 

“Because… these are really…” He stopped. Although you couldn’t see it, his cheeks were burning red. “Are you sure you’re okay with me having these?”

“Spencer,” you say. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve seen me naked plenty of times. I watched you fold and organize my sock drawer without my asking last week. You preheat my coffee mug for me every morning. I’m not just okay with you having these. I want you to have them.”

Oh. He swallows thickly, forcing himself to close the app and come back to his senses.

“But…” He trails off. He still sounds a little distant, pausing a bit too long between words, clearly still looking the photos over. “How did you… did you have these ready to send?”

“I did. I took them the other night. I was just waiting for you to ask.”

You wait a few seconds to see if he says something else. He doesn't. The line falls silent.

“Are you okay over there?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, exiting the app and putting his phone down on the pillow next to him. “Yeah. Sorry. I just… wow.”

You were used to his continual praise, but somehow his lack of words was the best compliment he could have offered you.

“Next time just ask, okay?”

He swallows. “Mhm. I will.”

“You should go have fun. I'm gonna go back to sleep. I'll see you soon, pretty boy.”

“Yeah… you should get some sleep. I’ll… see you tomorrow. Thank you.”

You smile to yourself. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

i keep you clean; you surrounded me

in which husband!spencer reid spirals after realizing he can't be your daughter's hero forever.

angst, fluff warnings/tags: this fic is about spencer's past addiction, and how he's afraid it will impact his relationship with his daughter, conversation about alcohol, this is a fix-it fic for my life, ends on a hopeful/positive note, lots of self-loathing from Spencer, uses the phrase "shooting up", PLEASE do not read if this is going to upset you!! PLEASE!! fem!reader a/n: this felt healing in a way for me but that might not be your experience reading if you also have issues with a parent with addiction so please tread lightly and make the right choices for you. CHOOSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH OVER MY DUMB FANFIC I CAN'T STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! and ily

“Daddy?”

Ada’s not asking for you, but you look to her anyway. She’s squeezed between you and Spencer on Rossi’s swing, and her cheeks are still feverish—remnants of a recent and rather hysterical fit of giggles. She has a glass of lemonade between her little hands (you’re trusting her with a big girl cup, if only because it’s not your glass or your house) and she peers into it intently. Her little grass-stained feet kick. Spencer pushes the swing back ever so slightly, for her entertainment. 

“Huh?”

She holds her glass up for him. 

“Our drinks are the same color.”

“They are,” he nods. “Do you like yellow?”

Ada shrugs. It’s exaggerated—one of her favorite moves as of late. “It’s okay.”

Spencer glances at you like he always does when he sees glimpses of you in your child, eyes sparkling as if her opinionated and bluntly honest nature is in any way reminiscent of you. 

“Yeah, I agree. Yellow is just okay.”

She leans against him and he’s quick to accommodate her, affectionately brushing his knuckles over your bare shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the swing. 

“Daddy?”

“What, lovebug?”

You smile, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. The sun is warm on your face. 

“Mommy’s drink is red.”

Nothing gets past her. Rossi had pushed the drink into your hand almost the second you stepped through the door, insisting it would go well with lunch. It sits otherwise untouched on the glass table. 

Spencer hums. The swing rocks gently. 

“That’s because she’s not having lemonade like us. She’s having a grownup drink.”

“Oh.”

You think that’s the end of it, that she’s satisfied with the answer, until another moment passes, and her voice, sweet as the tinkle of little fairy bells, is posing a very loaded question. 

“Why don’t you ever have grownup drinks? Me and you always have the same.”

Spencer’s already looking at you, brows drawn as you sit up. Your eyes, open now, go wide, and you shake your head slightly to signal you have no idea how he’s supposed to respond either. 

His hand goes to Ada’s hair, gently scratching her scalp as his eyes dart over your face. You can see the gears turning in his head. This is one of very few things he clearly didn’t read about in any of the literature on raising kids when you were pregnant. 

“I… some people don’t like grownup drinks.”

It’s an inadequate answer, especially coming from Spencer—just this morning he explained to Ada why the sky is blue. Rayleigh scattering. Blue light scatters more than any other kind of light. Which then led to an impromptu lesson on oxygen molecules and other basic chemistry in the car on the way here. 

So there are standards. 

“Why not?”

You interrupt, unable to watch Spencer flounder any longer. “Ada, why don’t you go see what Henry and JJ and Uncle Dave are doing? That looks fun, right?”

You gesture down the yard to where JJ and Rossi are teaching Henry to play cornhole. 

She looks at you with big brown eyes—the set of them, the color—those are all Spencer.

“Can you and daddy come?”

You straighten out her dress and take the half-full glass from her little hands, setting it next to your own on the table. 

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

Spencer’s hand slips from her hair as she pushes off the swing and bounds down the yard. You make sure she arrives to her destination without incident, before scooting closer to your husband and taking his vacant hand. 

“Spence?” You ask quietly, leaning in to try and insert yourself into his eye line. He doesn’t look away from Ada. 

“That was bad.”

“It wasn’t. She doesn’t understand. It’s fine.”

“I didn’t—”

He looks down, lips pressed together, and your heart twists and drops like overripe fruit from the vine as you realize his eyes have glossed over. 

“Baby,” you whisper, relinquishing his hand only so you can rub his back. Your other finds his knee, drawing as close as you possibly can. “It’s okay.”

“How am I supposed to explain it to her?”

A tear falls, making a dark splotch on the fabric of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. She’s only five. I guarantee she’s already forgotten all about it.”

“I will. I’ll have to tell her one day. She thinks I’m perfect, how am I supposed to—”

He stops himself, voice tightening to a halt. You watch him hold back a cry like you haven’t seen in years. It’s an old, familiar ache for you. You can’t imagine how it feels for him. 

“Spencer,” you coo. “She adores you. She loves you so much. That’s never going to change.”

His nose twitches. 

“I’m going to disappoint her.”

“How? How are you going to disappoint her?”

“I think it’s pretty disappointing to find out your dad is a junkie.”

His tone isn’t particularly harsh but the words are like a slap anyway. 

“Spencer…” For a moment you don’t know what else to say. It’s not a secret that he’s ashamed of that chapter in his life, but you had no idea he was contending with this much self-loathing over it, even after all this time. It seems like such a distant point in the rearview mirror that the two of you almost never need to talk about it anymore. “You are not a junkie. It’s been, what—a decade?”

“I don’t want to have to tell her what drugs are, let alone that I... she thinks I’m the smartest guy in the world, and one day I’ll have to tell her that drugs are extremely dangerous, and I was shooting up for four months anyway. No matter how I try to explain it to her the ultimate takeaway is going to be that I’m weak and I wasn’t smart enough and she’s never, ever going to forget that. How am I supposed to—I can’t be a role model for her. I fucked up so badly.”

Your chest aches, somewhere deep and hollow, as he leans forward, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, only for a moment—before Ada shrieks and his head snaps back up. Henry is chasing her with a worm. Spencer watches on, tears still leaking from his eyes and expression otherwise neutral. It’s bittersweet to hear him express such deep insecurity about the thing he’s best at in the world, even as those parental instincts kick in and he’s setting aside his own feelings to keep an eye on her. He’s never trusted himself. He’s never seen himself the way you do. 

“Baby, you are her dad and she loves you. Her love for you is not contingent on your past. You are so, so good to her. That’s all she knows, okay? She doesn’t care what you were doing when you were 25. She cares about whether you’ll be home for dinner, and if you’ll play dolls with her, and if you’ll tuck her in. That’s all she needs to love you.”

JJ wrangles the kids and after a moment Spencer looks down again, brow furrowed deeply as drops like rain dot his lap, but he hardly makes a sound. You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “And until she’s old enough for the whole story, which involves a lot more violence than I am comfortable with her being subjected to right now, you don’t need to explain it to her. You have time.”

“She wants to know now.”

“She also wants icecream for every meal. But I can’t make her understand why that’s a bad idea. What she wants and what she needs and what she is capable of understanding are all different categories. I know you love answering all her questions, and you’re a really good teacher, but you can’t make her understand something as complex as addiction.”

Spencer sniffs. 

“Developmentally she’s only really capable of understanding the world as it exists in relation to herself.”

“Exactly. So give her some time, and give yourself some time.”

“What if she asks again?”

“Then… you say you don’t like how it makes you feel. And tell her to clean up her toys. Condition her to stop asking.”

Spencer stumbles over a teary laugh he hadn’t been expecting. You sit up straight, holding his face between your hands and encouraging him to look at you. His cheeks shine with tears, but you wipe them away tenderly. 

“You’re perfect to her,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to one cheek, “and you’re perfect to me.” He cups your elbow as you kiss the other and looks at you with so much sheer adoration you could get all choked up, too.

“Wow,” he sniffles, and takes a deep breath, pulling you into him, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as he presses three kisses to the curve of your neck where he’s buried his face. 

“I could be canonized as a saint and not deserve you.”

Sainthood. You ponder that. 

Saints have to live virtuously. They also have to be dead. 

You hold him a little tighter. You like him exactly how he is: technically imperfect. Probably not getting into heaven. Still venerable. Very much heroic. Alive, and with you.

“I’m really glad you’re not a saint.”

He chuckles. His hand slides up your back, and then side to side—a path it’s made time and time again which has only ever led you to wonderful, perfect places.

“Me too.”

[gudfornuthin]

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he��s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[luveline]

hiii, could we please get bombshell!reader x spencer finding out they’re pregnant with baby no. 2 xxx

Hi thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

The second time, it catches you completely off guard. You still remember the afternoon you’d spent at Spencer’s apartment before you realised you were pregnant with Amy, your first, that nagging feeling of otherness that plagued you for days, and finally got too much to ignore. How Spencer had offered his hand, had sat you in the chair next to him despite it being a tight squeeze. You’d been more scared than you let on, quite hopeful, but you knew in a way before you took the test that it was already happening. 

You figure you have a pretty good idea of what being pregnant feels like, and when your period doesn’t come, you don’t pay it any mind. They’ve been spotty since Amy, on and off and on again. Spencer stopped trying to log it for you a long ago. 

“Mama?” 

You smile. It’s a rare day when Amy calls you ‘mama’: she didn’t spend long in the mama-dada region of time, moving on quickly to ‘mommy’. 

“What’s up, love bug?” you whisper. 

Amy —Amanda, Spencer’s idea, meaning ‘worth of love’— tilts her head back. Spencer swears she’s all you, but you can see both of you in her face, threads of your families. “Daddy’s sleeping?” she asks, her lips screwed into his pout, her eyebrows pulled into your worried pinching. 

“He got home late last night, remember? He’s just tired.” 

She frowns at his face turned into your thigh. “Wake up?” 

“Let’s let him sleep, okay? Sleep is important, it keeps us healthy.”

“You’ll play?” 

“I can’t, he’s sleeping in my lap.” 

“Push.” 

“We don’t push.” 

Amy, perplexed by this, clambers onto the couch despite her father’s entire body being in the way, and Spencer, so used to this mistreatment, doesn’t so much as stir. Amy slides into the space between his chest and the back of the couch and leans down to grin at his lax face. 

“Gonna give daddy a kiss?” you suggest in a murmur. 

Amy gathers the curls from his face and kisses his forehead, smack dab in the middle. 

Spencer’s breath starts to quicken. Amy senses a change and begins patting the back of his neck. “Shhh,” she says, uncoordinated fingers trying hard to be gentle as she pets her father. “Shush, daddy. Sleep.”

Spencer spends hours sleeping in your lap, until eventually Amy tramples him one too many times and his stomach growls its protest. He wakes, turning back, his hair crushed to your thigh, and when he sees you he gives you the same lovely smile as always. 

His teeth peek from behind his lips. “That’s a pretty sight to wake up to,” he says. 

It’s this sleepy afternoon together that means later, when you’re sitting on the closed toilet with a pregnancy test taken from four parts curiosity and one part responsibility, you’re unafraid of the result. You think of Amy’s small hands stroking Spencer’s hair from his face, her head under your nose as you’d cuddled, and you think of Spencer’s dozy smile and his months spent pouring over baby name books, and you know it’s all gonna be fine. 

“You alright?” Spencer asks when you make it to bed some short minutes later. His nap has left him wide awake. 

You climb into bed and turn out your lamp, laying down, curling in, a secret smile playing on your lips as he drags the blankets to your neck. “I’m good.” 

“What’s making you smile?” he asks. 

You gesture for him to lay down with you in the middle dark. Yellow from Amy’s hallway night light bleeds under the door, illuminating the hints of his features. You don’t need it to know what he looks like, where his cheek is in the dark as you lift your hand. “Love you,” you say. 

He pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “Love you,” he says into your lips, hand slipping to the nape of your neck. He squeezes it, groaning at the very back of his throat as he adds, “Missed you.” 

“I missed you too. Sleep well, sweetheart.” 

He wraps an arm around you and cradles you against him. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, angel.” His nose presses to your temple. His lips brush your eyebrow. 

You linger in the quiet for a while. Spencer nearly falls asleep. 

“Spencer?” you ask.

“Mm?” He doesn’t sound tired at all, but he’d been content to lie with you in the quiet.

“Just, by the way. Just so you know,” —you rub your face into his chest, breathing in his smell— “I’m pregnant again.” 

Another lapse of silence. Then Spencer springs up and turns on his bedside lamp to your squinting ire, eyes alight with shock. “You’re what?” 

“Pregnant.” You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the unwelcome light. “With a baby,” you say, your voice mildly muffled, “maybe two or so months.” 

Spencer slips a hand under your cheek and turns you back around. He holds your face in both palms, a rueful sort of acceptance about him as he leans down for a good look at you, though underneath it you can see the same thrumming contentedness you’d felt seeing the double pink lines. “And you’re telling me now?” 

“Didn’t you always say you expected to be the last to know?” you tease. “I did a test a few minutes ago. Clear Blue. Very accurate, or so you’ve said.” 

Spencer laughs and presses his face sharply into your own. Your nose throbs after a while, but you say nothing. You smile when he sniffles, raking your hand through his mousy brown hair. 

“I didn’t have an inkling of a suspicion,” you confess in a whisper. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you say, laughing under your breath as his hand creeps down to your stomach. “It’s the same as it was yesterday, I promise.”

“Well, it’s not.” Spencer’s face falls into the nook of your shoulder, hand slipping from your stomach to behind you, where he holds you like you’re at risk of escaping him. You have no such inclination.

[sdr2lovemail]

Hi there!

I finally got around to request something for Bill ^⁠_⁠^

Could I get some Bill Cipher x reader headcanons during weirdmageddon? How would it look like being by his side as his s/o? I love this yellow triangle so much-

Have a nice day / night! <3

Being Bill Cipher's partner during Weirdmageddon! (GN Reader)

Notes: I'm surprised in all my time of being in the gravity falls fandom I've never written anything for it. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships

It’s all reliant on if we’re talking about canon Bill or a more fanon version where he’s capable of love. So I’ll write both!

Canon Bill would keep you around more as a plaything than a partner. A trophy, if you will. He’s taken over the world, the Pines were out of his hair, and all he needed now was a prize! And that little prize would be you! 

He will poke, push, and prod every one of your buttons until you give him a reaction. Getting angry towards him won’t do anything for you. It’ll just bring him to provoke you more.

Bill would give his henchmaniacs free rein to torment you as long as no fatal harm comes to your body.

Any privacy you thought you had is nonexistent. There are eyes everywhere. Literally!

Now, there’s another side I could imagine. It's a side that’s nicer but still nowhere near friendly. If you were a possible disciple of his, wanting to help him start the end of the world, you’d be treated slightly better. 

You’d be more like a servant than a trophy. He would give you more freedom in a way. Like sending you to do tasks that he can’t be bothered to do.

“Hey, disciple. Go run to the never ending forest dimension and send Mother Nature a message. She still owes me something.” There wouldn’t even be time for you to respond before he whisks you away with a snap of his fingers.

Now, moving on to a more romantic version of Bill!

Having been betrothed to the strongest being in the universe, you’ll be absolutely spoiled. Anything across the multiverse is yours. Bill can make it happen!

While he doesn’t need to sleep, he’ll set up a room just for you in the Fearamid. Ever seen a triangle-shaped bed? Well, now you have! The room would be decorated in the gaudiest decorations a demon could think of. I hope you like the color gold, you’ll be seeing it in your nightmares. The room would be soundproof as well. The party isn’t stopping just because Bill’s human needs some rest.

Affection with Bill won’t be typical by human standards. Rather than hugs and gentle touches, he’s a lot more aggressive. Punches on the arm, slaps on the back, and heavy-handed head rubs are more his style. But maybe if you beg, he’ll let you kiss one of his surfaces.

Trips to another dimension are always a fun date idea! You’ll be introduced to species and lands beyond your mortal comprehension. See anything you like here, go ahead and take it back to the Fearamid. What you want is yours to take!

Bill likes to go all out and party. He’s throwing the biggest and most chaotic wedding you’ll ever attend. Any guest that doesn’t bring a nice enough gift is either getting thrown into the worst dimension possible or turned to stone.

Good luck taking that ring off your finger, you’re bound to him for all of eternity!

[mostly-imagines]

Things About My Jason

aka things that might weasel their way into details of stories one day, might not

your boy is clocking in at 6’4 + 3/4 inches and about 245 lbs (he’s the only batkid to be taller than bruce). 

he cusses a lot it, usually doesn’t correlate w anger or intensity its just how he expresses himself. he’ll cuss at you sometimes but not at you and he tries his best to never do it out of anger.

he’s never said it out loud but he would drop all the vigilante shit for you in a heartbeat if you wanted him to (i think he’s also the only batfam member who would do that).

you have an agreement in place to never make any big decisions in the middle of the night/post patrol—this came into place after a few too many bad nights had him coming home shaking and panicked about your safety and convinced he needed to leave you alone for good. 

he kind of zones out sometimes, its bordering on dissociation.

you have a black cat, salem, that’s been around since before you and jason had even met. his yellow eyes pierce you in a way that feels like he’s glaring straight into your soul and judging what he sees. he was suspicious of jason for a while but over time has come to love and protect jason almost as much as you.

he has a lot of nervous habits that have built up over years of stress and trauma. he’ll often double or even triple check locks and cameras. his hand tends to go to where his gun holster would be, regardless of whether or not its there. he’s very conscious of your breathing, especially when you’re asleep, and when he’s stressed or upset he’ll try to align his breathing with yours. he worries that you might get annoyed with how often he checks up on you, be it asking directly, texting you, or just looking you over to make sure you’re doing okay, that you’re happy. he’s also made a habit of standing directly behind you when you’re wearing anything short, especially skirts or dresses. You’re not entirely sure if it’s intentional or not.

day to day, he runs on very little sleep naturally so he’s awake early goes to bed late. he used to not focus much on making meals that actually taste good and have thought put into them until he started dating you. he started catering his grocery trips specifically with you in mind and the things you might like. he actually prefers going on grocery trips and little mundane errands with you bc he had no idea that these tiny aspects of life could bring him so much joy and peace. he also buys you new towels and updates your first aid kit constantly, though the latter is more out of his necessity than yours. depending on his mood, he’ll usually either take scalding hot or freezing showers. 

he’s 100% down to let you decorate the apartment however you want, even if you move into his place. his only ask is that he’s left with space to put his books (of which ne needs plenty). if he had to choose, he probably likes a warm atmosphere best, in terms of like lighting and colors. he’s really just not a fan of anything that feels cold or impersonal like the manor can sometimes seem. other than that he doesn’t really have opinions on it, whatever makes you happy he’ll like. but he’ll still happily go shopping with you to find stuff. but really that’ll just look like you saying “ooh look at this” and him saying “great, lets get it” at every single thing you pick up. 

there are unloaded guns and ammo hidden around your apartment and also stocked generously in a closet or two. he cleans them regularly, you think he does it partially as a kind of stress reliever. before you he didn’t have too much regard for his own safety, so he would sleep with one under his pillow. 

he does everything he can to keep you safe and he’ll insist on adding extra locks to the doors and windows, ones the landlord wont have keys to. yeah he’s paranoid so he’ll keep the bed as far from the door as possible and is unrelenting in his insistence that you sleep on the wall side. if you’re too tired to move, that’s okay, he’ll gently move you over himself. honestly though, your apartment is just as secure, if not more, than any of his safe houses. as such, he absolutely can and will easily hack into the lobby security cameras to check up on things. if he has to go away for a while he’ll send one of his siblings to stop by to check on you and make sure you're okay. 

he prefers to wear layers, it makes him feel more secure and comfortable. he does like cutoff sleeves sometimes but only because you like them on him. aside from that, he’s usually not such a fan of showing much skin because of a) his scars and b) he feels exposed to attacks. he has so many long sleeved and warm clothes in his closet that he heavily encourages you to bundle up in some of them when its cold. 

he goes through phases of bad sleep and they can vary greatly in severity. there’s nights he just physically cannot sleep and this usually originates from intense anxiety. these are easier to ease him back from and some simple comforting will be enough to get him to at least try to sleep. most commonly its the nightmares that make it hard for him. it’ll usually be a one-off that he just can’t fall back asleep afterwards. the worst is when he goes through phases of frequent nightmares, like every night, multiple times a night. when that happens, he will do everything in his power to stay awake for as long as he can. you’ve yet to find any techniques that hands down prevent or even slow the nightmares, but you’ve been able to find some remedial measures that work pretty well.

kissing him helps get his mind off scary thoughts (but not joker related) but not just like single peck it’s got to be a whole session to really work. the one that works best is having a hand on one of your pulse points while you sleep, or directly over your heart. unfortunately this did lead to him to accidentally choking you after a particularly bad nightmare. he was absolutely horrified and removed his hands from you completely the second he gained recognition. he actually fully got out of bed and backed away from you. he wouldn’t even hear you out about him not sleeping on the couch and continued to not budge on it for over a week. 

him punishing himself like that made you feel extra bad because that had occurred during a round of the relentless nightmares and you were sure he was still waking up panicked constantly without you there to help soothe him. you actually know for a fact he was because every couple of hours the bedroom door would creak open slightly before shutting again like he was checking to make sure you were there and okay. you ended up having to literally lay on top of him on the couch and refuse to leave him for him to agree to sleep in bed with you again, although he was still not willing to fall asleep with his hands on you for a while. 

he always needs it to be quiet when he goes to sleep so he can stay on alert which usually leads to him waking up to the littlest sounds, which is technically the point. if there’s any kind of white noise he’ll force himself to stay awake. if he does get woken up he’ll go from 0 to 100 like that. he also needs the door to be shut, non negotiable, and really prefers the apartment to be colder > hotter. it also helps that you’ll cuddle into him for warmth.

all of these things are things he did before you met, but he’d also developed some new habits after you got together. he used to sleep in the middle of the bed but now he absolutely insists that you sleep on the wall side so he can act as a protective barrier between you and any incoming danger. unless its after a rough patrol, he tends to wait to sleep until after you’ve fallen asleep. he doesn’t really have a reason for this, it just makes him feel better.

his relationship with bruce is complicated, of course. in my canon, the extent of it is that bruce didn’t kill the joker, prevented jason from doing it, and has made many attempts to stop jason from killing at all. obviously it’s not the fact that batman won’t let anybody die that broke jason’s heart, it’s that his father couldn’t let go of his moral code for a second and avenge his murdered son. the resulting anger stems from so much sadness and grief over his own death and it caused him to isolate himself even further from bruce. on a conscious level, he wanted to be far away from him emotionally as possible to protect himself while still enacting his own kind of revenge towards bruce. and so yeah, he did try to kill batman a couple times, whatever.

on an unconscious level, he’d hoped that bruce would take the initiative to try to close the space between them and apologize, and while jason didn’t know it yet: that was all he really wanted from him. inwardly, he still cares what bruce thinks and wants his approval and affection but its so conflicting for him. it also doesn’t help that it took bruce such a long time to swallow his pride and even consider that he was wrong before he could apologize. a lot of negotiations had to take place before they could even begin to really reconcile. 

about a year later they’d come to a steady, solid agreement that mostly worked for both of them. jason was allowed to kill, but only within his territory in gotham and only under agreed upon circumstances. there’s also a separate rule that jason’s not allowed out on patrol when the joker is loose—it used to be a whole thing before you’d met and oftentimes several bats were assigned to keep him away. even with these guidelines in place, things were still rocky between them and jason had only just started to come back around the manor when he’d met you. honestly you and bruce meeting was a major step in this process and everyone could feel the shift.

his relationship with his brothers is different, but just as complicated. he kind of views dick as being perfect in spite of also acknowledging his flaws. in his head, its sort of like, in comparison to himself, dick had the perfect life with perfect versions of all the same pitfalls jason had to go through. he knows its not really fair to think of it this way, but it’s hard sometimes. all in all though, he does look up to dick a lot. 

with tim, he thinks he’s a crazy rich kid—which, fair—but also in a weird way holds a lot of respect for tim for not being afraid of him. realistically, the way jason showed back up and his relationship  with tim started is insane, so its even more insane that tim was like ‘yeah, chill’ and that probably jump started their bond as brothers more than anything. 

for as much shit as he gives him, he honestly feels really bad for damian and all the shit he was raised believing. he couldn’t quite explain why, but he does see a lot of himself in damian, even past the surface level anger. 

he’s not good at resolving fights, his mind tends to jump to the absolute worst and he assumes you’re done with him, you resent him, it’s all over. it was really bad at the beginning of your relationship when he hadn’t even begun to consider that you love him half as much as he loves you. now, you’ve been able to help him understand that you still love him, even when you fight, and fighting does not equal breaking up. however, he still has trouble taking initiative in making amends. not because he doesn’t want to but more so because he feels vulnerable in ways that terrify him, having to acknowledge and speak into existence that he’d done something wrong feels like setting himself up to be exposed with no defense. 

another part of him feels like he already hurt you and if he tries to remedy things with you, he could just make it worse. So for a while at least, you’ll have to be the one to start the conversation, though not necessarily meaning you have to apologize first. 

as we know, Jason’s not immune to bouts of fear and stress. there’s times when he panics and there’s times when he has full blown panic attacks. the panic attacks are rarer, but much more severe. he’s known to lash out (especially when he’s not at your apartment) and has definitely broken a nose or two of people who got too close/tried to touch him. you’re not sure if it’s an intentional action or not, but he tends to claw at his skin or hit himself in the head when he’s very upset. after going through a couple of these with him, you’ve compiled a thorough list of DOs and DONTs for these times. DONT hold his wrists, move suddenly, touch him without warning, or corner him. DO keep your touches light, words soft, rooms vacant of other people, and loud noises. slowly but surely they’re getting less severe and overcome quicker.

[finniestoncrane]

HELLO I'm in love with the way you write for Cooper 😩👏💝fix idea: I was thinking he's DEFINITELY somebody who doesn't care who he looks anymore, but is still aware that he's got that CHARM yano, but maybe the reader is just "wow your eyes are so pretty" and he fuckin BLUSHES (Mr cooper Howard aka Mr ghoul cowpoke absolutely keels over cus somebody said he was puuuurrtty) 💥💥💥🔫 just all "shut your pie hole girlie" and shes 😏😏😏 ok handsome

Can Ghouls Blush?

Cooper Howard x GN!Reader, word count: 1k aaaaah thank you ;-; also i love this, i love the idea of flustering that horrible boy omg 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some threats (imean it's cooper), guns, mostly fluff though!

“I know time means very little to someone who has been around for two hundred years, but how much longer are you gonna be?”

Cooper’s voice echoed out from the main room of the abandoned building you had slept in. From the bathroom, you could hear the frustration, despite his attempts to soften it up. He had no time for fun, no time for relaxing. It was survival and sweating, or nothing at all. But you could tell he had tried to soften it up a little, just for you. His irritation was still so obvious however, even as he offered you a playful roll as he approached the door, catching your eye in the reflection of the cracked mirror.

“Just a sec, then we can head out.”

The old hairbrush you had found by the sink was a well-received miracle. A little bit of normality, a chance to tidy yourself up somewhat.

“I just think it’s a waste of time is all. Preening for the Wasteland. I mean, who are you trying to impress out there? You already got the best catch.”

He flicked the brim of his hat with his gloved fingers, grinning wide, yellowed teeth bared at you as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“That’s exactly the problem. I have to make sure I look good to keep up with you, handsome.”

Your hand stroked along his cheek, a brief moment of eye contact as you walked past him towards the door of the bathroom and back out to the front of your temporary shelter.

“Handsome, huh?”

His voice seemed so much lighter now, more so than you had ever really heard before. And as you turned, you noticed the slight smile on his weathered lips, cheeks pulling up at the corners, eyes glinting as he stared straight back at you.

“Uh… yeah. You’re a very handsome guy, Coop.”

You almost had your fingers on the door knob, ready to leave for the start of your day, when you realised that you couldn’t feel Cooper’s presence behind you. Turning to see what was holding him up, you caught something in his eyes. A look of confusion, almost. Surprise. Disbelief. And a little bit of what you could swear was embarrassment. All this time together. Sleeping in each other’s arms, protecting each other from danger. Had you really never expressed to him your attraction? You had just assumed he knew. You spent long enough staring lustfully at him, it was surely a given. So you worried there was something else to it.

“What’s wrong, Cooper?”

“Nothing, I just… I was used to being called handsome, long time ago… not so much these days.”

As you stepped back towards him, closing the short distance, you could make out his expression much better, realising how astute your previous observation had been.

“Oh my god… Coop, are you blushing?”

He raised one finger, narrowing his brows as he tried to hide the endearing glee, offering you a forced stern look as he spoke.

“Don’t start playin’ stupid with me, you know I am not.”

Biting your lip, a mischievous smile forming, you gripped the lapels of his duster, teasing him as you stroked your thumb along one of his ridged, warm cheeks.

“Why, I didn’t even know big tough cowboys could blush, especially not the more ghoulish ones.” Can they blush? I'll need a closer look."

His fingers were tight around your wrist, gripping you fast and firm. He was trying so hard to maintain his tough exterior, but you could tell there was something softer in there that longed to come out, or at the very least, was desperate for someone to notice it. It was so obvious, even as he lowered his voice and growled at you.

“You turn around right now and start walkin’ out that door.”

Cooper took a step forwards, an attempt to regain his control of the situation, to push you towards doing his will, but you brought your hand up and laid your palm against his chest.

“Wait, just a second…”

It was nice to see him in this light. His confidence was always the dominant feature in his peronality, and it rarely wavered, if at all. But to know there were aspects of himself that he wasn't as sure of, and to know you could render him a little flustered just by complimenting them, made you smile. A grin that was returned by Cooper as you gazed into his warm, brown eyes.

"What is it you're lookin' for now, huh? You find it?"

"Yeah... turns out they can blush."

You turned quickly from him, practically skipping back towards the door of your temporary shelter, ready for another day of survival, this time tinted with a little more joy than usual. Your smile only grew wider as you heard Cooper, catching up with you, still trying to cover his embarrassment with the strained, empty aggressive threat that he chased you with.

"Now I will shoot you, you know that? You're pushing your luck today and we ain't even done anythin' yet."

But when he was certain you weren’t going to turn back around, he let himself smile a little. A soft glow in his eyes as he allowed himself to remember who he was, really. The kind of man that resided deep down inside, buried by years of solitude in the deep, dark ground, of struggling to adjust to the world. And struggling to adjust to himself. Even just a tiny reminder that, despite his charms and the charisma that tended to pull people in, that there was a bit of his old self left. That despite everything, despite who he had become, both physically and emotionally, someone might look at him with something other than fear first. With kindess, or lust. Or even love. That was enough to help him cling to the memories and look to the future with just the tiniest bit of hope, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“You comin��, handsome?”

He smiled, biting his lip to curtail the spread of the easy grin.

“You bet.”