#but pads just cant sing

[apoetsworld]

Sorry to all those "sirius can sing" stans...but headcannon sirius black sounds like a dying cat singing in the shower and he thinks he sounds angelic...and james changes the subject when he brings it up, peter runs out of the room and remus never shuts up ab how he actually sounds like he's being murdered when he sings "Is there Life On Mars?" by David Bowie

[jolapeno]

in the locker room

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie masterlist

summary: when you join him for benny's fight, frankie appears stressed. you have an idea to de-stress him.

warnings: TF canon compliant. explicit smut/oral m! receiving. my spellings (written on phone) wordcount: 1.6k

an: dedicated to @rhoorl who I wound up yesterday with this. babe, ily and our thot chats.

Waiting feels like a whispered question in a room of time.

Phone in your palm, glancing as you watch the text change from received to read—smiling, locking it as your grin is caught in the reflection of the screen, illuminated, proof that once again he does this to you. Has this effect on you—makes you a little reckless.

Your nose catches another whiff of the slightly off citrus disinfectant. The ones doing its best to smother over the stench of old sweat and socks. It lingers, attempts to embed itself in your clothes, lets you walk away with the reminder you were here.

A part of you hopes to walk away with something a little more than a reminder. A memory, maybe. Tapping the back of your phone against your palm, nervousness begins to ebb over the adrenaline from sending the message.

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting—

BANG. 

Leaning against the locker, metal sinking into your bones past clothing and skin, you pocket your phone. Listening to it, the door shutting behind him, his gait in those boots—heels clicking as he rounds the lockers and spots you.

Frankie drinks you in. Does so like a man starved, parched—as though he wasn’t seated beside you moments ago before you excused yourself. Before you made a beeline for a different door that wasn’t the ladies' bathroom.

He's looked at you like he's wanted to devour you since the night you met, and all the nights that have been since. Even if he has, plenty and plenty of times. The look doesn't waver, it doesn't lessen.

Now, it's just embroiled in love, affection, care.

“You alright?”

Nodding, he comes closer—more lines deepening around his brows, eyes; shoulders almost hanging like earrings they’re so high up.

“Querida, what are…”

As soon as you can, you pull him close by his jacket. Brown, worn—cuffs rolled up and suede greet the pads of your fingers as he moves close to you with ease.

Still, Frankie frowns.

Still, he’s weighed down by something, irked by it. Brain totting things off that he won’t share or spill—just offers hollow smiles and barely-there glances.

“You look stressed, baby.”

His jaw ticks, just when your palm cups his cheek—thumb brushing over the patch. The little heart you trace when you can, that your thumb finds when you’re kissing him, when he’s so canting his hips and making you sing.

But, you suspect he’s still not caught on. Not grasped why you’ve sent him a mayday message to meet you in an old, smelling locker room. 

“Baby,” you whisper, more sweetly—a slice of sultry to it. Like a cocktail you hope he’ll drown himself in.

Chewing his tongue as he averts his eyes, storing secrets and hiding terrible truths from you. Things you’ll pull from him in time, retrieve. Probably wish you hadn’t, too.

But it’s not why he’s here—not why you want him here.

You don’t want to talk, to find out.

“Wanna make you not stressed.” 

Swallowing, you see it shift and feel him freeze. His eyes slide back over you, almost snapping to you as his hands rest on your hips.

“Here?”

Smirking, you tilt your head. Offering nothing, saying nothing.

It’s then you feel Frankie’s hands. Those large, capable and fucking perfect hands sliding around your waist, pushing you flush with the locker and his frame. Little to no space between you. Soft stomach against yours, your thumbs fingering at the suede of his jacket as you stare into his eyes. 

“Want you in my mouth, Morales.” 

“Jesus, fuck.” 

Hands sliding down over the curve of his stomach, eyes not wavering, never leaving, your palm runs over the growing bulge in his jeans as you tell him. As you describe to him how bad you want him, how it’s all you thought about—that having him in your mouth would make your night, your day.

“—so, can I, Morales? Can I suck you off in here?”

“Yeah, baby. Fuck. ‘Course you can.”

The thank you comes out on its own, escapes in a whisper as his head tilts around yours to glance at the door—the sound of cheers echoing down the corridor, leading here, cutting through silence and held breaths. 

It’s with ease his belt undoes, clanging and clattering; his jeans open next, zip grating against teeth as you slide it down, pulling the fabric down next—just enough to free his straining cock.

“We gotta be quiet, baby.” 

And he snorts, offering a roll of his eyes. Hand taking yours as he helps you descend to your knees—the floor hard, cold as it crawls in past your jeans. But, head level with him, your mouth waters at the sight of him. All of a sudden desperate to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to feel him kiss the back of your throat and coat the back of your teeth in his pleasure.

It’s teasing the way you wrap your fingers around him, lightly pumping, making him groan somewhere deep inside of his chest—a grumble in Spanish, one that makes the corners of your mouth lift as you clear your throat.

“You’ve got such a nice cock, Morales,” you whisper, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the tip—salty tang lingers on your lips when you kneel back. Watching as his hips buck, cock twitching in your hand. 

“You want to come in my mouth?”

It’s a murmur, an array of letters merged together to say please as you slide the tip of his cock inside your mouth, your smirking lips closing around it. Hearing it, the hiss from his teeth; but, you pull from him. 

Hearing it—the tortured sound that feels like a reward. But the prize is the way he looks a mess already. His lips were already parted, nostrils already slightly flared. That line between his brows gone, something you’re more pleased about than the sounds.

It’s why you lick a stripe up the base, smile at the pained fuck he lets escape. Taking him back into your mouth, fully, no games. Feeling his hand on the back of your head, before his grip tightens as you take more of him, feel him deeper—tears pricking at your eyes as spit begins to soak your chin at your enthusiasm.

Flicking your gaze up, you find his hidden under the shadow of his hat, the angle different—but you know his forehead is smooth. The furrows of whatever had caused them to melt away on your tongue as you taste what you crave. All salty tang and stress, it seeps into your throat as your head bobs and cheeks hollow.

Because it’s a reward to do this for him. To do this to him.

To have him like this, relaxed and yet tense. 

“Fuck, y’so good for me.”

The crowd masks over the sinful sounds of your mouth working him. You only lift off to catch your breath, letting the tip trace your swollen lips as you stare up at him, finding him transfixed, unable to see anything but you.

Fingers swipe over your chin, cleaning the spit from it, showing it you glistening on his fingers. “Don’t make a mess.”

The command—you’re sure has ruined your underwear. The same fabric that would provide so much relief if you could angle yourself to gain some friction.

Moaning, you clutch the base of him, mouth close to taking him as you breathe, “I love your cock, Frankie.”

Angling his head in a ‘yeah?’, his words are stolen as you slide him down your throat. Knees shuffling closer, you nudge them against the tips of his cowboy boots, hands around the back of his jeans for leverage. You feel it, the familiar fabric you’ve got in your palm—the one you’ve had chafing on your thighs when you’ve been bare and wanting; the one which you’ve picked up and washed with your clothes.

And it’s that familiarity that makes you moan, makes you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, as you hear him curse in a deeper, more gravel-filled voice.

You love him, love this—love this thing between the two of you that you’ve never had with anyone else. It's like an inferno, consuming, not yielding even as time ticks on between you. There's only trust, understanding—a hard honesty, but the two of you work to keep there every single time.

Then, there's the fact that you know from the sounds he’s making he’s getting close. It makes your skin warm, pussy flutter; it makes you tempted to slot his boot between your thighs and ride him. Especially as you notice the sweat shining on his forehead, it twinkling under the shitty fluorescent lights when he rests his head against the metal behind him.

Fuck, it spurs you on. 

That and the taste of him reaching his pinnacle—how it’s stronger, tangier; his moans louder and less reserved. 

“Fuckfuckyesqueridafuck—“

The expletives flow freely, not held back or restrained. They practically echo, becoming a song that only your ears get to hear as his hand tightens and you watch his other fist clenched at his side.

Then you feel him at the back of your throat—him filling your mouth. Breaths ragged, pulled from him as you slowly continued to bob, not wanting to waste a drop, to not have everything you could.

You don’t consider moving until he loosens his hold on the back of your head, until his eyes unclench, and you’re washed in soft brown. 

He slips himself free from your lips as you swallow, his palm cupping your chin and jaw as he tilts you to look at him. 

“You alright?”

Nodding, you trace your thumb over your lip. “You feel better?”

He hums, for a moment looking all at peace as his hand aids you to your feet. You believe him, believe it—the hum. Looking away, for less than a second, allowing him to stuff his softened cock into the confines of his clothes as he redresses.

Then you see it.

The shadow in his eyes, the thing that had been there when you’d made it just for the last round of Benny’s fight. When you’d kissed his cheek and he’d gripped your hand and said he’d missed you—even if he'd seen you this morning.

Breath shaky, you fold your arms loosely. “You need to talk to me when we get home, don’t you?”

Not saying anything, not needing to, he pulls you close, unravels your arms and kisses your forehead. 

“I love you, querida.”

“Lo sé, Morales.”

Because you do.

[kpopluvrsblog]

Bnd reaction when you can’t sleep!

Requested - not proofread

Pairing: Bnd members x reader

Genre: Fluff

Sungho:

From what i’ve seen sungho loves to sing so this is based from that.

As the oldest of the group he seems pretty responsible so I see him handling this maturely.

Also a huge sweetheart :(

���Hey y/n, you’re not coming to bed?!” You hear your boyfriend shouting from the bedroom. It was currently one in the morning and every ounce of sleepiness has left your body, making you sit in the living room and stare at the ceiling.

With no response you hear sungho make his way out of the bedroom until he’s standing arms crossed in front of you. “babe?” He questions before you turn your head to face him.

He leans down slightly to get closer to your level before moving a strand of hair out of your eyes and smiling softly. “Cant sleep hm?”

“I’m not really tired, you can go to sleep though I know you’ve had a long day!” You try to say cheerily before he shakes his head.

“At least come lay with me, you know I cant sleep without you” He says, now grabbing your hands and leading you to your comfortable bed. You throw yourself down with a sigh and attempt to close your eyes.

Within seconds you start to hear soft humming while sungho lightly hugs you. You smile softly with the peaceful sound starting to lull you to sleep with a successful and happy sungho following behind.

Riwoo:

This boy… I don’t see him as a cuddler AT ALL like the other members. No matter how much he likes you.

Also mature but realistic, if you cant sleep he wont try to force it but will definitely try to help.

We know he likes sweets so—

“y/n ah-“ Riwoo says while looking at you from the kitchen table. You had just finished taking a shower as the long day you’ve had, drained you completely. “Come” he finishes with a slight smile.

You pad over to where he’s sitting, seeing a few of your favorite treats and cravings laid out.

You let out a wide smile and hurriedly make your way to sit down next to him.

“I am pretty sleepy babe, i’ll stay with you for a bit and watch some videos with you, when you get sleepy i’ll be in bed waiting for you.” He says sweetly. He leaves after around 20 minutes, the silence around you and fullness from the snacks getting to you.

You make your way to the bedroom, seeing your boyfriend sleeping soundly. Lighting lifting up the covers and slipping in next to him, you let the warmth consume you.

You dont know how much times passes before you start to feel sleepy and let your eyes close, finally letting yourself sleep.

Jaehyun:

I love him. BIGGEST cuddler and sweetheart ever.

Sorry but if you can’t sleep, he says you can, and will not sleep until you are.

“Did you change yet” You hear a shout, followed by a sleepy jaehyun exiting out of your shared bathroom. “you’re not changed? It’s late babe..” He says disappointedly.

“Sorry i’m not really sleepy love” You reply with a frown to your face, watching as your boyfriend moves to the dresser to pull out some of his clothes for you.

“No. You need sleep and you know it.” He responds unfolding the clothes in hand and coming up to you. “up” He says and motions his head for you to lift up your arms.

With a sigh you let him have his way knowing his stubborn self wont change his mind. You lift your arms up allowing him to take off the hoodie you were wearing, now covered in one of his own baggy shirts. He does the same for your pants and puts you in one of his soft pajama pants.

“cute” he whispers and places a kiss to your lips before hugging your waist tightly. He quickly maneuvers you two into the bed, and covers you both underneath the comforter.

He wraps his arms around you once more while placing your head into his chest, tangling your legs together so you cant leave.

“Match your breathing to mine baby, slow breaths okay?” He says sweetly while rubbing your waist soothingly. You follow his words and within minutes you start to feel your eyes get heavy.

“Love you..” You mumble out before you let yourself drift off, causing jaehyun to smile widely. “Love you too y/n, sleep tight” He replys, now allowing himself to follow behind you.

Taesan:

Mr introverted vinyl bf. He’s so adorable and so shy. (lowkey got carried away)

I can literally only see him playing his soft music for you guys to fall asleep too :( so cute

After trying for what felt like hours to get yourself to fall asleep, you start to think about giving up. Maybe you should get up and walk around? No, Taesans feels so warm next to you, and he never cuddles you when he’s awake so maybe you should take advantage of this moment?

You’re cut off from your thoughts from a movement behind you. You hold your breath as you hear you boyfriend take a deep breath, who’s somewhat awake now.

“Baby?” He says groggily, removing the arm that was holding your stomach and untangling your guy’s legs from each other, lifting himself up to see your face. “You’re still awake?? Did you not sleep at all?” He proceeds, now fully awake and aware of your situation.

“mm” you mumble back with a frown on your face, upset that he’s unattached from you.

“Talk to me y/n… what’s going on?” Taesan says, slowly rubbing up and down your arm.

“Nothing really, i’ve just been having troubles sleeping i guess” you reply. Hoping he’d drop it and go back to sleep to leave you with your own thoughts.

He gives you a small pout in return and gets out of bed, walking up to his stack of vinyls and picking an album that he knew could lull you to sleep. He puts the vinyl into the player and lets it run, returning himself back to bed and placing himself behind you again.

“ I know I don’t show it too much but you mean a lot to me y/n, try to sleep well okay?” He says before wrapping himself around you which he’s never done while awake.

You let a tear fall, feeling how much he truly cares before feeling the stressed feeling leave your body, now at ease from the confession. Within minutes you’re sleeping soundly with your lover.

Leehan:

Hehehehe fish boy, i love this oddball

He is so interesting…Saw how caring he was in some videos and my heart- Definitely the comforting type.

“come here love” You hear your boyfriend call sweetly from the living room. It was late and you knew he must be tired, but knowing him, he was going to be there with you throughout your struggles, even if that includes his precious sleep.

“Yes ‘han” You say giving him a smile. Seeing him sitting in front of his fish tank like always.

“I got a few new friends I need help naming. Look how cute they are!!” He says excitedly as you go to stand behind him. He grabs your arms from the chair he’s sitting on and wraps your arms around his shoulder. “What should we name this little guy here?” he asks while looking up at you.

You lightly brush some hair out of his face before replying with a name. “ I love it!!” He gasps in delight causing you to giggle at his demeanor change.

“You think this fishie here looks sleepy? He probably thinks you deserve some rest too you know, he’s looking straight at you.”

“That you’re right about leehan, I just feel a bit hyper still… how about you go before me?” you start before you’re cut off by your boyfriend standing and grabbing your hand, bringing you to bed.

“Howww about I tell you some stories about my fish from back home while we lay down hm? Maybe then it’ll help you calm down” He finishes, before beginning his tangent until he hears your slow breaths, smiling to himself that he was able to help.

Woonhak:

This lil cutey omg. I saw this one video where he was cooking at night for jae, this is inspired by that.

Such a sweetheart that will do literally anything for you.

“You hungry?” Woonhak asks from the door frame, watching as you finish your skincare routine.

“mmm not really, I think im good” you reply giving him a slight smile. He crosses his arms at that.

“Well im cooking for us so. You can never sleep properly if you dont have a full tummy babe. Some warm soup sound good?” Woonhak says as he makes his way into the kitchen, not allowing you to answer.

By the time you get into the kitchen, he’s already started boiling the water. You go up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist, your forehead pressed against his back.

“Just a little while longer” He says, turning around in your grip to smile down at you.

Within due time he finishes the soup for the two of you, leading you to the living room so that you guys can watch a movie and eat. He knew that movies tend to get you sleepy as well.

Halfway through the movie, soup long gone he felt your head drop onto his shoulder, smiling to himself he turns off the tv and puts the dishes away before going back to your sleeping form on the couch.

He picks you up and lays you carefully on the bed, placing himself next to you and allowing your face to rest in the crook of his neck. “goodnight pretty” he whispers as you both sleep in each others arms.

[vmp3ater]

𖤐 sing me a song, my songbird

pairing. robin x gn! reader

warnings. dom! reader, sub! robin, teasing, lap sex, fingering, robin being desperate, nipple play, slight biting but nothing too rough. written by a minor.

notes. first oneshot 😍 may b the last thing for a while, i’m out of ideas…

word count. 1.1k

you had always liked it when robin would sing arias for you when she was under your touch, just like hearing her velvety voice in her songs that everyone in the cosmos heard. but you—and only you—get to hear her voice like this alone.

she’s atop your lap, cold hands on either side of your face as she kisses you. her dress has already been stripped off of her, as well as any of her undergarments, only leaving her in nothing as she felt the tips of your fingers slide along her hips and waist ever so slightly, tongues dancing in both of your mouths.

you couldn’t help that purr you let out while you kiss robin, and she arches so eagerly into your touch, hands moving down from your face to your neck. and when you both pull back, a string of saliva connects between both of your tongue, panting heavily for breath after such a long kiss

her plush thighs straddle the sides of your own thighs, hands resting on your shoulders as you tease the inner of her thighs with the backs of your fingers, nails softly grazing the skin ever so slightly as you watched her whimper and squirm above you, a smirk painting across your face.

“s-stop teasing,” robin whimpers, her fingers clawing into your shoulders. “n-need your fingers inside me…”

“aw, poor girl,” your mock, your middle finger drawing a line along her exposed cunt, just to tease her. and when your finger grazes her puffy clit, she can’t help that whine that escapes from her. “i just wanna keep teasing you…”

when your hand moves in between her folds, the pads of your fingers move between her cunt but they didn’t even make it near the places where she needed you to be the most. robin’s desperation takes over her, and she grinds her hips onto your hand, trying to get something, anything, from you or your hand.

her cunt was just so silky smooth, like her voice, her skin—seeing the idol in such a state only blazed a fire through your body you never knew you could feel. robin’s slick coats your hand, cunt throbbing against you when you continue teasing her, moving your hand down to her entrance, but not sliding in yet.

robin was just too distracted on rutting her cunt against your hand and trying to get your fingers inside of her, she didn’t even notice that your fingers slipped inside her cunt, both of your middle and ring fingers at once, and she can’t help that gasp that escapes from her. you let her adjust to the burning feeling of your fingers inside of her, stroking her walls ever so slightly as she winces above you.

“please, please—“ robin whimpers, grinding down on your hand ever so slightly to try and get you to move.

“patience, princess.” you gently scold her, smirking while you brushed one of her soft white wings behind her ears with the backs of your fingers, enticing a soft whine from the idol above you.

once you believed she had gotten used to the feeling of your two fingers deep inside her, you start to thrust those fingers in and out of her, sinful squelching sounds and her pretty moans filling the room, letting your hand run along her thigh, her nails claw into your shoulders ever so slightly, whimpering when she feels you pepper kisses along her neck.

when the pads of your fingers drag along her sweet spot, she breathily moans out loud while you’re still peppering kisses at her neck, occasionally moving down to her collarbone. you cant help those quiet groans you let out when she lets out all her pretty sounds, shifting in pitch ever so slightly when you curiously ghost your thumb over her clit, rubbing it in small circles.

“more, please—“ robin gasps, but her words are only cut off when she feels you stop kissing her neck and start kissing around the areola of her nipple, not even putting your mouth on her nipple yet. your fingers don’t slow nor stop; rather they only pick up in pace when you tease her nipple.

robin winces when your warm tongue makes contact with her nipple, licking a stripe along the bud swiftly, before you wrap your lips around it, suckling at it, her nipple sky high with sensitivity as her moans and whines become more high pitched.

the way you’d suck at her nipple would only add on to her pleasure—every time you’d suck her nipple would only send sharp white hot jolts of pleasure through her body, holding your head closer and wings covering her face as she grinds down onto your hand, feeling the pleasure she was feeling grow more intense, and you both knew that she was getting close.

“oh!— m’ so close,” robin managed to whimper out, such desperation filling her voice as she feels your teeth graze her nipple slightly, only making her wince and grind more into you, too high in pleasure to properly establish a rhythm.

your movements alone told her that she was allowed to cum, and she didn’t even know she was chanting out your name repeatedly when her orgasm was building up, voice shifting in pitch and getting raspier while you tried to bring her to an orgasm to the best of your ability. her cunt flutters around your fingers, holding your head further toward her as your cheeks heat up under her.

this whole scene felt so intimate to you, the way she was holding your head closer to her bare tit while you suckled on her nipple, the way her wings brushed against your head while your fingers worked their magic inside of her, her orgasm building up sooner than you have ever imagined.

she knows how much you love her music, her sweet singing voice, and she loves it when you take control of her, trying to be as loud as she can so that you can hear her sing for you under your touch. you were more than happy to have her as your partner, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

when she cums, she cums so hard that she swore she saw stars. her thighs shake like a leaf when her orgasm takes over her, trying to work her through her orgasm to the best of your ability, aggressively sucking on her nipple while she uses her other hand to fondle herself, fingers pinching her nipple as she releases herself all over your fingers.

robin thought that her orgasm would go on for years, if not forever, but it eventually came to a halt, riding her high off your fingers and wriggling away from the overstimulation. when she finishes, you move your mouth off of her tit, a string of saliva connecting to your tongue and her nipple while you drag your fingers out of her, enticing a final moan from the idol.

this was a concert to remember, and you know her voice will be stuck in your head for many weeks to come.

[thatgirlsza]

Mornings♡

Kento Nanami x fem reader

Morning fluff, play fighting, tickling

"Darling, wake up." His voice is strong and deep; it tickles your ears, and the tips go warm. It's surrounded by the sound of mourning doves sing your lover's tune. The bright yellow of the new-born sun pecking under the curtains is warming your room. You snuggle the bed sheets more, trying to convince Kento that waking up at this hour wasn't the best thing. But he doesn't buy it; instead, he straightens and puts his hand on his hips.

"Hey now, I know you are awake." He scolds not coldly, and you can feel the playfully tinge in his melodic voice. You try to hide a smile with the bedsheets, but he would never miss the sweet curl of your lips. "Hey, naughty girl. I said, Stop faking." Kento hunches over you, his big hands flowing under the bedsheets approaching unbeknownst to you. You snuggle more into the sheets, trying to hide from his playfully intense gaze, but are met by the pads of his fingers caressing and tickling along your stomach and ribs.

"Oh Kento, stop, I, hahaha ha!" You try to speak between laughs and soft pleas for him to stop his attention and warn you that you may pee yourself if he doesn't. He can't help himself, though. Your smile is as bright as the star that lights up the dark sky, a feat the sun cant accomplish. Seeing you laugh in his arms just makes him feel like the world outside could not exist and leave you to be for the rest of eternity.

Kento stops his attention, gliding his hands up your body and up to caress your cheeks as he brings his face down towards you. Your lips touch, and the soft plump of them heats up as they slide against one another. He pulls back reluctantly and looks at your soul through your glassy eyes. "So beautiful." He murmurs before indulging you both by locking lips and beginning to tangle yourselves in each other's limbs. And just like that, your plan to take a run together just fly out into the window.

[qoldenskies]

48, 68, and 79 for the fanfic writing asks. :]

48. Who is your favorite character to write for?  Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

forever donnie (he stuck out to me the SECOND i watched the show and has not left my brain)... but i actually find raph second easiest to write pov for, i wanna get into the meat of him at some point because he's really interesting and surprisingly unexplored compared to the other three!!! even though he ends up showing no matter what i do ive been a little hesitant to do anything super duper leo-centric out of spite and mikey is FOREVER THE HARDEST TO WRITE OUT OF THE FOUR OF THEM AUGGHHHH SHAKES HIM!!!! love him though

68. Are there any fics that influenced you to write the way you do?

shout out to firefight for getting me to write again <3 unmaking by corvidown is also a personal favorite of mine, i HIGHLY recommend it

79. Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

im mostly intuition when it comes to writing and not very technical about it (which is my folly, i need to get better at going back and mastering the basics) but what i CAN say is that, from experience, if your pacing seems way too fast there is a very good chance that's just you. if youre like me youll probably skim instinctively because you already know whats on the page (which is why its recommended to read out loud when editing because its easy to skip over mistakes), but for most readers its going to feel a lot longer than it is!!

like genuinely with both caged lungs and coming undone im still like "wow i need to pad this out with more scenes" but so many people sing my praises about pacing, and thinking that things are well-rounded and detailed, and im like... Huh. i genuinely considered adding like 6 more scenes to coming undone and had to literally stop myself because i was going to Die if i did that (i actually think the uhhh. third to last scene? the last mikey one. is way too fast still, id go back and rewrite it if i could)

oh also i recommend character bibles! character bibles are always good, i like writing sample dialogue and keeping track of little vocal quirks/body language things (it also helps me pick out and avoid things that get really deeply rooted in fanon when theyre kind of frustratingly off the mark, although i do have a couple of headcanons that remain consistent across fics like the painkiller thing Because i use it for EVIL!!!!!!). and when i feel like im slipping ill go back and rewatch some episodes to make sure i can HEAR it in their voices

i cant say much about how i do symbolism/parallels/motifs which ive heard a lot of praise about, i keep a list of ideas i have and somehow it turns into something coherent (i literally type "AHAHAHA FUCKKKK IM A GENIUS" in my notes when i get a good idea) i dont even remember where the canary thing came from but now its my thing. help girl

[bibibi-tchx]

Does lil man ever have moments where he just needs to be with both mami and papi at all times? I can see lil man just waking up extra clingy needing to have both of them in his eye sight at all times just wanting their comfort :(

oh anon of course he does

especially when hes teeny tiny- being that small, where hes smaller than about 1yrs old, everything seems that weirder. like, the world feels as though its going to swallow him whole, and he can’t even think of any way to describe it- all he knows is that he wants his papi and his mami right there right now.

which cues him waking up in his normal adult bed, and feeling as though everything is out of place, and hes much too small to be in his big boy bed- tears ensue, and he is sobbing

hes too small to even communicate whats wrong, so he just continues to cry, trying his best to call out for both of his caregivers but because hes way way too small, all he can do is repeat “ma” over and over again. even a full “mami” or “papi” feels too out of reach for his tongue, so hes just babbling a very wet, a very sad sounding “ma” the best he can in between all of the hiccups

of course it doesnt take long for both of his mami and papi to be in his room, picking him up and consoling him, rhea rocking him gently from side to side whilst damians right next to her, singing his usual lullabies to try and soothe dominik

sobby lil babie immediately shuts up, to the point where rhea and damian then proceed to turn to each other and make small quizzical faces- like, it was so swift for him to stop crying, and hiccuping not long after, that they are puzzled; they make the look.

theres a look that all caregivers have when their baby does something that is baffling, but they are still amused by it. trust me here. cgs yall know the look im on about. <3

“im going to run downstairs to grab him a smoothie or something for him to drink, solid foods might be a bit too overwhelming for him at the moment.” comes out from damian after a few minutes of them playing with the very teeny baby, with damian and rhea making different faces and such and watching how hes reacting to try and gage exactly how small dominik has woken up that morning

rhea’s nodding, because thats a fair idea, and its also a way for damian to have another means of hiding veggies in dominik’s diet and she can’t oppose that really

but the moment is out of dominik’s sight from where him and rhea are cuddling on the bed, with rhea holding up his lamb to his face to try and distract their iddy biddy boy, even though it hasnt worked the moment damian turns his back from their cuddle on the bed, and dominik’s wails ensue once more, probably even louder than before

he deffo tries to clumsily reach out and grab at his papi too, needing to have him nearby at all times or else all hell is gonna break loose

damian aint all that impressed either, feeling absolutely horrible that he has to leave, “oh niñito, papi’s got to go make you some breakfast. dont you wanna eat?”

surprise surprise, dominik shakes his head, “nuhuh- pa!” looking so forlorn, purely upset

rhea looks upset too- she doesn’t really know what to do, but she knows that if damian leaves, shes gonna need to follow him with dominik in her arms, “dont you want to have a cuggle, baby blueberry? arent you comfy, hm?” because she knows that dominik dont do well when changing locations when hes that small

dominik nods, bcus yuh duh of course hes comfy!! he has his mami, and he has his papi. its a no brainer, however he cant even think to deal with not having both of them nearby, so he starts to tear up a little bit at the thought, but hes still so so comfy, which means that hes nodding, but hes still crying

caregivers confusion to the max

“are you comfy, little one?” in the most soothing whisper that rheas voice has ever gone, the pads of her thumbs gentily wiping away at dominiks tears

“mhm.” with a little hiccup, big brown eyes staring up at damian, bcus nuhuh papi cannot go

it definitely is a whole back and forth, until, eventually, rhea has to bring the babie around with her everywhere

thank u anon !! <3

[cdroloisms]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream sneaks into Pogtopia to see Wilbur

woo! managed to finish this in time. kinda unedited and kinda a mess but i've missed writing these guys; i'm deeefinitely in need of more practice to get c!wilbur's voice down, but hopefully this can be the start of me writing some more fic set earlier in the timeline, LMAO.

thanks @elmhat for the awesome event!! been epic to see people's submissions and i cant wait to see this continue. ur awesome &lt;3

c!dream meets up with c!wilbur to tell him about a change to their plans | 2.3k words

---

<Dream> be there in 5 

The communicator in Wilbur’s hand casts a pale glow onto the palm of his hand, the only light he has to guide him as he paces the length of the hollowed-out room; it’s dark, zombies groaning somewhere outside, the dead singing their songs, shuffling through underbrush in the belly of the forest that surrounds Pogtopia. The air is musty in their little dugout, a claustrophobic awning of stone carved into the side of a hill, well-shadowed even during the day, the darkness swallowing the wan light of the comm in his hands now. He can barely see the floor underneath him as he walks, shuffling steps forward and back, ten paces each. He presses his hand against the wall, turning to the entrance and standing still. 

Phil always had a whole thing about light, Wilbur having grown up on lectures about light levels and spawn-proofing and the dangers of leaving cavities unlit while mining, had grilled him on different ways of keeping a room from becoming a death trap. Carpets, half-slabs, glass. How many times had he been warned of the danger presented by surprise creepers and dark corners? 

Phil had never been much of a fan of explosions. 

The main server is mostly well-lit, but the secrecy demanded by revolution effort means that the forest surrounding Pogtopia gets much darker. Not that he’s in the main ravine at the minute–with the amount of people coming and going as of late, Dream had wanted their meeting to be in a slightly more discreet location, and Wilbur had agreed. It was easy enough to slip away with Technoblade once again off to do his own thing and Tommy having run off to find Tubbo, and Wilbur had managed to arrive to the room sufficiently early before sunset to prevent himself from getting ambushed by mobs. 

He slips his hand into his coat pocket. Chekov’s gun is smooth and cold against the palm of his hand, polished wood and metal. He smooths the pads of his fingers down the barrel, over the trigger. He leaves it, pulling out a half-empty pack of cigarettes instead. His lighter provides a clearer view of the room, still empty. Dream is late. 

Dream is usually late, then again–it’s expected, really, with the way he runs around the server, always busy, always chasing down those plans of his, smart man that he is. Dream likes his secrets, his mystery, mask and armor all made to keep his cards close to his chest–Wilbur can hardly fault him for it, god no. Dream has what he wants, just as they all do, all of them tripping over themselves in their ambition, crabs in a bucket, the pledges to help the revolution coming from each one that jumps off of Schlatt’s sinking ship. He breathes in deep, smoke coating his lungs with tar. 

“Wilbur?” 

Light throws itself into the room from the entrance, rippling wildly as the fire on the end of Dream’s torch burns, casting wild shadows over his mask as he squeezes himself inside. Despite his armor, he has an uncanny knack for moving silently, cloak and hood pulled low over his head so that only the edge of the painted smile is visible. The torch is raised higher, moved left and right as Dream surveys the contents of the room around them. Wilbur smiles and tips his head towards him in greeting. 

“Dream, my man. How good to see you again.” 

“Wilbur…” Dream’s voice trails off. His head turns from one side to the other, making another anxious sweep of the room before refocusing on Wilbur, his hand moving to pull his hood down and then run his hand through his hair, having been pressed flat by the heavy fabric. The blank face of his mask stares back at Wilbur, tilting to the side like a confused dog as he shakes out his shoulders. “We…need to talk.” 

“Well? I’m all ears.” He gestures at himself, leaning against the wall of the room. Dream turns to look over his shoulder again. His armor glimmers, the light of the runes on their surface made more obvious in the dark. He bounces on the balls of his feet, reaches up once again to tug his fingers through his hair.

“It’s important.” No shit, Wilbur almost says, because for all that Dream might think that his mask hides everything he’s thinking, he’s never quite been as guarded with his body language as he might hope; the anxiety rolling off of every jerky movement is enough to set Wilbur’s teeth on edge as it is, never mind the long silences and hesitation, but he’s not stupid enough to think that that would get him anything resembling an answer. Instead, he raises an eyebrow, smiles wider, and spits out another curling thread of smoke.

“You’re an important man. I should hope so.” 

Dream pauses at that. His head does that tilt-thing again. “...alright.” 

“So? What is it? Do tell.” Has Dream decided to go against him? Perhaps. His enthusiasm with regards to their plan is more unpredictable than Wilbur had expected, sometimes perfectly willing, sometimes hesitant to agree to much of anything. But he had agreed, nonetheless, had provided the TNT that Wilbur has set sprawling underneath Manberg’s main stage; cold feet, now, would be rather unprecedented. Still, it’s Dream–very little can be discounted when Dream is in the picture, Wilbur knows. He places his hands in his pockets, thumbs hooked over the edge, pistol brushing against his fingertips. “I hate to push, but the suspense is killing me.” 

Dream takes another second, then reaches behind his head. Wilbur straightens where he’s standing, suddenly curious, as he removes his mask. 

He’s seen Dream without it only a few times–all able to be counted on one hand, this one included. The light of the torch illuminates his face from the chin up, cast shadows highlighting the contours of his skull, the contours of his cheeks, light catching under his brows. His features are delicate in a way that still surprises him, a smattering of freckles over the nose of his bridge made visible as he raises the torch higher. Dream’s eyes are a little wide, a little bloodshot. He bites his bottom lip, blinking twice in quick succession, eyes darting over the walls and then back to Wilbur’s face. 

“Schlatt called me. For a meeting earlier.” 

“Schlatt?” 

“He knows about the TNT.” 

Wilbur blinks. “Well, fuck.” 

“Look–Wilbur, look.” Dream makes a little move with his hands, shaking them out by the wrists. “It’s not–it’s not the end of. This, okay? But, he knows. I didn’t tell him. I don’t know how he found out, I don’t know if someone told him, I haven’t told anyone, but–he knows. We can still work with this.” 

“Schlatt knows?” He searches Dream’s face. He seems earnest, but god knows, but what would he have to gain from lying about this, anyway? Who else could’ve told him–Tommy? Tommy might not tell Schlatt directly, but Tommy has never been good with secrets, letting anyone and everyone in on everything with an apparent inability to control his own tongue–

“--but it’s, fine. The TNT is still there, the room is still intact. I checked some of the wiring and it doesn’t look like it’s been tampered with. Wilbur, are you listening to me?” 

Wilbur waves him off. “I’m listening. Just keep going.” 

“I don’t think we need to change anything with the TNT. Like, Schlatt’s just one guy. And his gear is shit. If he messes with the TNT, then we’ll–we’ll figure something out, but you know, I don’t even think he even, like, knows where it all is.” 

“Well, it’s kind of everywhere, so–” 

“–which is my point. It’s too deep, he’s still sitting on top of a bomb. There’s nothing–there’s nothing he can do.” Dream crosses his arms in front of his chest, still worrying his lip between his teeth. “I just thought you should know.” 

Schlatt knows. Schlatt knows–Wilbur paces against the wall of their room, ten paces forward and ten paces back. He crushes his cigarette underneath his boot, nails digging into his palm. 

“Well, Dream? Is that all?” 

Dream’s expression twists. His brows pinch together, lips pressed against each other and curling into a slight grimace, his expression giving too much away after spending so much time masked. 

“There’s…one more thing.” 

Wilbur scoffs. “Just spit it out, you prick.” 

Dream doesn’t even react to the insult, shoulders hunching up as he begins speaking. “Look…it’s just. My plans have…changed.” 

What? “I thought you just said that they didn’t?” 

“Our plans are the same. It’s just–Schlatt made me, an offer.” Dream shifts from foot to foot. He swallows, throat working, his eyes still bright and wide, pupils dilated with a thin circle of green around. Wilbur stares at him. He almost looks… “He’s got something. Important. He asked me to…join him, kind of, and he’d–give it to me.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not–look, Wilbur. Wilbur.” Dream raises his hands, palms out, a placating motion. “It’s not what you think, but I–I had to.” 

“You had to join Manberg.” 

“I’m not joining Manberg!” Dream runs his hand through his hair, eyes flashing. Wilbur is suddenly very aware of the axe on his back, the heavy plates of netherite armor. Eret, the button, it was never meant to be. “Why would I join Manberg, what–”

“So what’s this? What’s this then, Dream?” 

“Wilbur–”

“Because from where I’m standing, I have to say, it looks a lot like you’re betraying me.” 

“I am not–”

“That’s just like you. That’s just like you, isn’t it? Good ol’ Dream, mister 1000 IQ, outsmarting everyone–well-played, man, well-played! I really must congratulate you!” 

“Wilbur, can you just–”

“So what is this meeting then, Dream? Gotten cold feet, now that you’ve been discovered? You’re his little lackey now, is that it, his little lap dog–you’re gonna start another war? Put down another revolution, lead us all out to slaughter like last time, good for you, you motherfucker, is that the point of this farce? You’re here to kill me?” 

“Wilbur, can you just listen to me!” 

Dream’s voice is raised. Wilbur draws himself up to full height, Dream’s head craning up slightly as he crosses the room in front of him in two long strides. 

“What.” 

“I’m not. Joining Manberg.” Dream’s arms are crossed tightly in front of him, scowling slightly. It’s an expression not all that much unlike Tommy’s teenage petulance, a set jaw, eyes narrowed under furrowed brows. “There’s just–a peace treaty, right? I can’t just violate that. And now Schlatt knows. He’s asking for me to give him–gear.” 

“Gear, like what.” 

“Armor. Weapons, shields. Support in the incoming fight. You know, he’d already been paying Punz, the rest of the people in my country are already going to fight with him. And, whatever.” 

Wilbur rocks back on his heels. His skin itches, feeling antsy, so he goes back to pacing. “And?” 

“I meant what I said, earlier. This doesn’t change anything. The TNT is still there, we can still blow it up. It…doesn’t matter who wins the, the battle and stuff.” 

Wilbur sets his shoulders, turning back to look Dream in the eye. “Really. It doesn’t matter.” 

“It doesn’t! It doesn’t matter. We have an agreement, that’s still like–a thing.” Dream’s hands close into fists, then open again. “I don’t like this, okay? I don’t like Schlatt–” Wilbur scoffs, “--and I don’t exactly want to work with him. But I have to. I swear, I really have to.” 

“Because, what. The treaty?” 

Dream shakes his head, expression still all twisted up like he’s eaten something sour. “He’s got. A book.”

Wilbur laughs outright at that. “A book.” 

“It’s–Wilbur, I swear. It’s important. I’ll, I might–I’ll–” Dream makes a frustrated sound, teeth clenched. “I have to get it.” 

“So you’re going to work for Schlatt.” Fuck it. Wilbur pulls out another cigarette, lighting it as he speaks. “You’re going to be the emperor’s little guard dog.” 

“I’m–”

“No, no, it makes sense. It’d be too boring for you otherwise, wouldn’t it? Not enough chaos, with everyone joining the rebellion.” He gestures with the cigarette, Dream’s eyes caught on it as it moves. “You want us all to fucking destroy ourselves, keep everyone weak, Manberg, Pogtopia–you don’t need to explain yourself, man, you’re a smart guy! Even out the playing field, join whatever team has the fewest players, keep yourself above it all. Bravo, really. Bravo.” 

Dream’s jaw works, but he stays silent. Wilbur smiles at him and breathes in a long drag of smoke. 

“Well, Dream. I very much appreciate our meeting together today, really. Really! This has been…enlightening. Is that all? Or do you have any other important information to tell me.” 

“...I’ll come around in a few days to tell the others. About, switching sides and whatever. And–the TNT is still going off, alright? No matter what.” 

Wilbur rolls his eyes. “Obviously.” 

Dream stares him down, Wilbur meeting his eyes evenly. He breaks eye contact first, looking down at the floor and tossing several stacks of TNT onto the ground between them. -

“Thank you, Dream. Until next time then.” 

Dream stares at him, blinks, his eyes wide and green, before he turns away. The torch disappears into his inventory as he walks to the exit of the room, silhouetted in the doorway as he presses the mask back over his face. Wilbur reaches into his pocket, draws out Chekhov’s gun, holds his arm straight in front of him, fingers wrapped around the pistol as Dream works at the straps behind his head. He keeps it held there, pointed at Dream’s back until the man slips into the night, the blurry reflection of the lit end of his cigarette vaguely visible in the dull metal. 

He’s not sure how long it is before a twinge to his arm makes him slip the unloaded gun back into his pocket. He sighs. He needs to start making his way back; after all, he still needs to think of a birthday present. 

[tojisdolliee]

Hiii can i please request for satoru!! With a fem s/o who is on her periods! She doesn't get carvings much or mood swings either but her cramps are awful- she would be on verge of fainting yet she would absolutely refuse any painkillers. just some fluff please if possible ofc!!

This is so cute 😭 I decided to do headcanons for all of the fav JJK boys 💖 Im gonna mix some of my own period feels in here too if thats alright 💞

Satoru Gojo

💗 Gojo is very loving, despite his playful demeanor

💗 Will lay out heating pads and blankets for your cramps because he knows you don't like taking medicine

💗 Hes always very attentive to the things you seem to need/want during this time, usually resulting in an insane amount of cuddles

💗 "Im so sorry angel, cmere and let me cuddle the pain away"

💗 Because of his attentiveness, he knows that you get majorly overstimulated due to all of the feelings youre enduring, so he takes away anything that could bring you more trouble like unwanted social events.

💗 Dont worry about it, forcing yourself to do things you can't do wont help you feel better love. Just relax for me, okay?"

Toji Fushiguro

💗 Usually Toji doesnt like to delve into the world of periods, but meeting you has changed him a lot.

💗 Not afraid to go buy you tampons/pads, he loves getting to feel like hes taking care of you.

💗 Cooks you lots of yummy meals and brings them to you on your favorite dishware, always remembering to avoid big spoons and forks.

💗 Is a huge believer in intimacy therapy, he will literally take his shirt off and take yours off so you two can lay together, skin to skin, while he rubs your belly and sings you to sleep

💗 "Its okay bunny, Ive gotcha."

Nanamin Kento

💗 Gentleman TM

💗 Loves to spoil you with expensive facials and stuffed animals, making sure youre always properly pampered and comfortable

💗 "Is there anything I can do to help you feel better, Dove?"

💗 Always keeps track of your cycle, so he can know to send you a basket with your favorite things in it when hes away

💗 New Message from: Nanamin 💙

Hello Dove, theres a basket sitting on your front porch, its full of essentials and some things to help comfort you. Im so sorry I cant be there with you right now, I love you.

Sukuna

💗 Hes never been one to care about the natural processes of human bodies, but his harsh kingly demeanor slips away when he sees you crying in pain

💗 Does his best to comfort you, learning how to be more affectionate and using soft and kind touches when interacting with you

💗 "Would you like me to give you a massage darling? Ive got 4 hands that can work some magic"

💗 Sometimes he gets effected by the pheremones youre releasing but does his best to hide his arousal, knowing you just need tender love right now

💗 Will trace every curve on your body and praise you, wanting to build your confidence during this harsh time

💗 "Let me start with youre cute littke button nose, then your soft chubby cheeks and these kissable lips" then he places multiple little pecks on every single area he names

[dullgecko]

When Riz was younger he would go everywhere bare foot, because shoes were uncomfortable. Shoe''s are still uncomfortable, but he doesn't want to explain to random strangers or the bad kids that oggling at his feet is still weird, even if he has 'kitty cat paws' and 'toe beans'. he is a full person. he has just got his friends to stop singing about his whiskers. no one does this to tabaxi.

-꒰(˶• ᴗ •˶)꒱

He's got claws, he's got little cushioned pads on the bottom of his feet, he spends most of the time walking with his heel completely flat agains the ground even though its more comfortable for his biology to walk on the balls of his feet. Its entirely practical for the environment goblins come from, the pads make his footfalls almost completely silent when he removes his shoes.

No you cant touch them stop being weird he doesnt ask if he can touch your ears or your horns or your tusks.

[azullumi]

I HAVE THOUGHS FOR WANDERER AND I CANT CONTROL THEM🥺

scara's headcanons with a artist reader?

Umbrella🥱(🌂)

summary — you create canvases on his skin, creating art in him in which he will learn how to love not only the essence and the brushstrokes you make but also himself.

pairing — wanderer or scaramouche/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff, established relationship, this could be fatui scara talking or just wanderer himself ; headcanons

words — 766

note — working on requests again huwahjshad sorry for the late upload and i hope u like this onee :D

what a strange dynamic you two have; one who loves and creates art and one who grew up with it and comes to hate it. he was one who lived a life filled with art, dancing, singing, playing instruments, and everything but taking the form and name of scaramouche had made him hate those things because he once hated those parts of himself that reminded him of how weak, sensitive, and emotional he once was—but then he found beauty, he found it once again when he found you.

no, it wasn't in a way that he immediately loved art just because you create and love them but it was in a way that he loved art because it reminds him of you, it reminds him of your hands, your fingers carefully and beautifully painting sceneries, molding sculptures, the dedication and focus that it requires and you give, the effort and time you make, he adores every moment of it—he discovered how it is to bask in the beauty of art once again, to have himself mesmerized and captured by the colors, by the edges, by the messy workplace, and anything that reminds him of you, of art.

if you were to ask him to model for you or to ask him to be used as a reference of one of your paintings, he would, of course, raise an eyebrow at you and say why should he do that but then proceed to comply with your request anyways. he wouldn't like it when you would look for someone else to be the reference of your art, he gets quite jealous and grumpy, you see thus many of your artwork, papers, and sketchbooks are filled with images and drafts of him. 

he would sometimes look through your art books and sketch pads, especially the ones filled with him, with awe in his face. there's a small smile on his face that he tries to hide—an artist can paint their own views of the world on paper and to think that you see him like this makes his heart flutter, you capture him so well and so perfectly.

all the materials that you need, everything that you'll ever want, he'll give it to you as long as it keeps you happy, as long as it will put a smile on your face. he never admitted it to you outright but he will support you in every thing that you will ever do and want to achieve.

thus despite of how much of a jerk he is, of how much an asshole he can be, he wouldn't dare to try and disturb you whenever you're focused on what you were doing, he wouldn't want to risk ruining things. he'll just choose to watch you on the sidelines and admire what you are doing, often observing the small habits you make at times. sometimes he'll work alongside you—no, he will not paint and draw on a canvas or sculpture anything but he will do some of his work while you're in the same room as him and doing your own thing at the same time also. there's only just the peaceful silence being shared with only the sound of pages being flipped, pen on paper, and brush on canvas being heard.

he can get really needy after some time though, asking that you pay attention to him, and you could tell it when he's already asking you when you are going to finish while you are mixing paint and when he goes back and forth your spot, seeming like he's feeling uneasy.

if only he could completely express himself, if only he could tell you how talented you are and how much he adores you, if only he doesn't bite back his tongue when speaking his feelings so he settles on watching you from your behind and admiring your work as he keeps pages of it on his desk to which he'll admire and trace with his fingertips, he settles in the actions and gestures he make just for you, hoping that his message will reach you and wishing that you'll understand.

you create canvases on his skin, creating art in himself in which he will learn how to love the bruises that he has earned, the scars that he was given, the flaws that make up all of it, kissing and mumbling sweet and affectionate words that he could either listen and think about for the time that will come or ignore only for him to yearn to hear it once again—aren't you supposed to burn if you're a star?

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[the-midnight-duck]

underrated batfam duos hcs

duke and bruce

THEY HAVE THE SAME SENSE OF HUMOR AND YOU CANT TELL ME OTHERWISE

they both like dad jokes

and they both like to play dumb pranks like

tying tims shoelaces together, but they dont want tim to get hurt so they install padded floors in the batcave

they both like 90s/early 2000s movies

they LOVE short animated films and tear up every time they watch lava

not to mention bruce is secretly really interested in how duke's powers work

duke knows this and purposely shows his powers off whenever bruce is around

cass and damian

i feel like cass does pottery and as we all know, damian does art (paints, sketches etc)

vases/sculptures and sketches/paintings to each other as presents

they give each other constructive criticism

they pott (??) and paint tgt

i like to think that damian mostly speaks Arabic and struggles a lil with English so they kinda get each other

they train and give each other tips and tricks

from an ex-assassin to an ex-assassin, from an artist to an artist

sparring sessions/training sessions are always most interesting with them

theyre crazy competitive with each other

but in a way that like they admire each other, alot

dick and steph

theyre both rays of sunshine and fit well together

occasional puns here and there

they love shopping and gossiping with each other

mani pedi days <33

scream singing songs in the car on the way back to the manor

they randomly buy gifts for everyone

buying cake even when there's no special occasion >>>>

dami and tim

ok so this one isn't really underrated but like idk when i'll talk about them again - sorry if this a lil lengthy

personally, i think they first bond over their love of mythology

tim who read percy Jackson as a kid meeting dami who's likes to learn about diff cultures

after finding out tim knows Greek mythology, damian warms up to him just a lil

tim of course, is really glad to finally make a sort of connection with his lil bro

they get along well after discussing myths a few times

tim introduces dami to percy Jackson and dami introduces tim to a bunch of different myths and legends

they make it a weekly thing to just sit, read and have tea

they love discussing about the similarities between different myths

they watch the miscellaneous myths series on youtube together !!!

they actually get along really well with each other

but they hide it so they dont get teased by the others

they have a lotta hang time since theyre both also at ma kent's house a lot

damian's the type of brother to third wheel a date to make sure kon is treating tim right

mind you, damian's old fashion, if kon doesn't offer a seat for tim, damian glares at him

'how dare he show up without flowers' -damian to jon probably

yea he's over-protective of his siblings

the was bruce is over-protective of his kids yk

anyways, kon is scared of him

tim likes that dami is overprotective of him (although it can get a little annoying) cos it shows that dami loves and cares for him

knowing that damian, who used to hate him now treats him like a brother

just makes tim so happy

oops sorry this was a little long, lemme know if u want more of this type of content!!

[teyums]

no cause imagine being friends with the sully family since you were kid and ended up having a secret relationship with lo’ak when you’re both teens and you two having to sneak around to be together… him just being completely obsessed with so he’s always trying to get away from everyone’s eyes to give you kisses… UGH I CANT I WANT HIM AS MY BF

no cause why is y/n living my dream rn?? Sneaking around with Lo’ak sounds like sm fun 🤭

“Just come on, it’ll be funnn,” Lo’ak cooed in a sing-song tone, holding your hands in his as he walked his way backwards, trying to coax you into the direction of the vast trees.

“Shhh, you skxawng (moron)!” You swished your head around to glance behind you, turning towards him once more with hesitancy written on your features. “Your family is literally right over there! Don’t you think they’re going to wonder where we disappeared to?”

“I don’t care!” He whined, his head dipping back to exaggerate the urgency of his complaint. Huffing out in frustration when you let your heels dig into the dirt to stop your legs from moving. And instead of pulling your arms again, he switched his hold to your waist. Strong hands yanking your body to him. “I haven’t been able to get you alone in forever…” He breathed out, the subtle glint in his eye telling you that he really couldn’t wait.

“I was literally alone with you last night, Lo’ak.”

“Too damn long.” He nearly purred, curious hands traveling downwards with a mind of their own and making your breath catch in your throat.

With your palms resting on his chest you gave him a warning glance. Not because he was trying to convince you, but because he was actually succeeding and you knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to him for much longer. You smacked his shoulder lightly, causing him to retract his hold back to you waist to ensure he wouldn’t get carried away. “We can’t.” You sighed, gently brushing your finger along his collarbone, eyes trailing the movement.

His head tilted to bring his lips closer to yours, stopping just before they could touch. “Oh, but baby, we can.” He grinned, mischief pooling within his eyes. The pads of his fingers began tickling at your sides and you tried not to giggle as you squirmed in his grasp, quickly nodding your head in agreement.

“Okay, okay! Fine.” You rushed out hurriedly, somehow out of breath. Probably because the close proximity of his lips were threatening to pull you into a trance and blow your entire cover. The intense look in his eyes making you forget why you were even apprehensive in the first place.

“Oh thank God.” He groaned, bending his knees and swiping his arm under your legs. Hoisting you up into his hold and wasting no time in taking you somewhere private.

“I can walk, you know!”

“Baby, no offense, but you’re short and you walk slower than my grandmother. I’m not waiting any longer than I have to.” He scoffed, ducking the both of you under a low hanging branch and ignoring the way your jaw fell open at his response.

[grxysuit]

[] - TIME - 03:00 .DATE - [CLASSIFIED] - LOCATION [ CLASSIFIED]

-- LAB 0139

------ CELL. 02.

SPECIMEN STATUS - LUCID. INJURED[ ATTENDED TO] SEDATED. [85]

ADHERE TO ALL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES. ANY ERROR OR MISSTEP WILL BE PROSECUTED. ALARMS ARE ACTIVE.

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

Pryde's able to walk again, which given the degree of injury he should have taken PTO, but he can't, not now. His mission is almost at it's finale. He also, is unwilling to deal with the gloom of his homelife. So... Eat, sleep, and heal on company time.

He can walk, but not well, not yet. There's still a gnawing pain in his innards that no amount of medications seems to quell, something to study later on no doubt. For now, he wants to see his hunt, his charge. The RD who this entire slaughter and fuss this operation was about.

By now getting through the security is habit, barely noticeable, all the precautions much more tolerable than the itching in his stitches. Finally, he's able to come at least close enough to this insane caged animal. It's not comfortable by any means, the viewing 'tank' is actually in a different room to the holding cell, allowing a clinical and invasive observation of the subject.

All sorts of pipes and cords are inserted in him intravenously. Pryde's not a science guy, he doesn't know the exact nature of what everything does here. Only that for the time being its proven effective at stabilising and otherwise cutting off certain avenues of distortion. And lying in an uncomfortable fetal position, the guy almost looks human. Almost.

Ignoring all the dressings and cords, and of course the marks from his own recent surgery. He even got an industrial wash, which is probably the first he's had in his life. Looking like a slightly damp toad or wet cat in a shelter. Like some pitiful inbred dog with 30 health conditions at the pound.

Though the reality was this was some ungodly abomination that should be put down as soon as they were able.

"Mr Kurosawa..Good morning." He greets, clicking the communication on as he settled on an office chair, pad and pen in hand as he scribbled some notes of his own.

The Nephandus groggily lifts his head, no doubt jolted by the 'helpful' electronic pulse that forced him awake from his reverie to respond to questions. His expression is impossible to discern, both parts sleepy and displeased. He cants his head, cracking his neck uncomfortably, camera following his movement.

"Agent- what was it, Pryde?" He greets drily, moving into an awkward, hunched sitting position. Surveying his captor with a heaving sigh and a grunt.

"Nice set up. I'm impressed, I am." Constance continues, eyes darting to stare ahead, fingers stiffly tracing one of the cords poked into his hand.

"How was the cleanup? What I'd give to see the autopsy report on those carcasses. Especially the blacksuits." Constance grins, skew teeth showing, as he gives a hoarse laugh, clearing his throat before spitting.

Pryde just writes, not yet responding or showing emotion. Give the enemy no sign of your internal conflict, any emotion can be used against you.

"Are you proud of yourself, reality deviant? For you specifically, this was quite mild, sweet of you to pity the Progenitor." Pryde prods, though he--.

[ information request; denied]

There's an extended silence, shit the RD definitely noticed the glazed look and whirr of his mechanical pupils. No matter. Keep going.

"Not my best work, but it was fine. Fun enough for an evening out. This place is kind of maddening. Everything has a switch, a hum, the lights- oh they fucking sing their own tune. The metal, the sterile, clinical, banal -"

[Sedative increase- 20%]

Constance hisses, looking more - no he doesn't even look like an animal. Like some amorphous imitation of a human. Hissing with pain, head extended like his body is being puppeted, sigils twitching and moving on him like water. Trying to protect their host from the invasive biotech that held him in place. A tar like substance fills some of the pipes.

Sweat beads on his forehead, how human, to contrast the evil thing that pants with pained groans, teeth grit as latent magic struggles against its bindings. Desperate for something-anything to be the target.

Pryde watches, still aware that this was all experimental, and there was an off chance this abomination would get out, that he was charged with overseeing the science and frontline 'testing'. At whatever cost.

But the nephandus does calm, against his will. Staring ahead.

" I see why Constellation hasn't tried getting out yet.. There's a rot here. Agent Pryde. Things twitching 'neath the surface, waiting for a fatal misstep. A door way.. hm, maybe not even that. Maybe it's already started, small.. Overlooked. Like a mold in the shower caulk." He gives a hoarse exhalation, trying to stretch vainly against his wiring and restraints, eventually settling to lying on the floor, eyes tracking the camera.

" Because the second I can, I'm going to do a pretty little dance, and turn that little crack into a door. " He grins, but it doesn't reach the eyes.

[em-prentiss]

hi have you written a fic where the baby has sleep regression and she cant figure out how aaron puts the baby to sleep easily ?? bc when its aaron’s turn he just sings his favorite song and jack sings/falls asleep

Hello! You know this is actually really funny because you sent this just after I wrote something quite the opposite where Aaron’s singing voice is horrible lmao. But I can totally see Aaron with both a horrible voice and a fabulous voice, so it all works!

This also turned out a littleee bit more angsty than I expected haha🫣 anyway, I hope you enjoy!

____

Golden

Chapter 13: Sleepless nights—Emily struggles to put her baby to bed while Aaron is away

Word count: 3.9k

I’m not sure if this requires a cw, but cw for accidental cosleeping!

____

She’d always known Aaron put their son to bed easier, but until now, she didn’t realize just how much.

Emily rocks a crying Matthew, feeling frustratingly close to tears herself as he continues to wail in her ear. It’s the second time he’s woken up in as many hours, his cries reaching her through the baby monitor just seconds after her eyes slipped shut. Her muscles are tense from dealing with the same ordeal last night, her brain foggy and slow from lack of sleep.

“Come on, Matthew,” her voice cracks as she wipes away the tears on his cheek. He blinks at her with tear filled eyes, half lidded as he fights sleep. “I know you’re tired, just go to sleep,” she whispers, tucking his head under her chin, his cries stifling into her shirt. Her heavy lids fall closed as she shushes him.

Her neck is still stiff from sleeping in the rocking chair last night—the only way she’d gotten Matthew to sleep again after he’d woken twice. He’d been fussy, waking up whenever she set him down, so she’d resigned to rocking his crib until his eyes drooped and eventually hers did too, her hand still wrapped around one of the bars and her neck falling against the hard wood of the chair.

She’d hoped that his short naps today meant that he’d fall asleep easier, but she’d been dead wrong. He’d finally gone to sleep after multiple lullabies, milk, and whispered sweet nothings, but it only took a few hours before he woke up, just as Emily was putting herself to bed.

And she repeated the whole cycle again, only for him to cry out after she finally let her eyes drift shut.

He whimpers now as Emily runs her hand over his back, shushing him gently as she eyes the chair in the corner and contemplates another night of stiff necks and sore backs. Aaron’s absence digs into her chest like a knife as she sighs in defeat and starts walking to it, swallowing a lump of tears at the thought of another sleepless night. She barely takes two steps before the nursery door creaks open.

Not again.

Emily curses mentally as Jack walks in, rubbing his eyes and blinking at her. Her heart breaks as he looks at her drowsily, his pajamas rumpled and red sleep lines on his cheeks. 

“Matty won’t sleep again?” He yawns and pads into the nursery, reaching her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Emily takes a hand off Matthew’s back and wraps it around Jack’s shoulders, supporting him as he leans into her. He tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes bleary and half closed. “Is it ’cause of his teeth?” He mumbles.

Her stomach churns with guilt as Matthew whimpers in her ear. Emily nods. “Yeah.” Jack stifles another yawn as she runs her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, sweet boy. Would you like to sleep at Aunt Jessie’s tomorrow? It’ll be quieter there,” Emily whispers, absently rubbing circles on Matthew’s back.

He blinks a little before nodding sleepily. Emily sets the four-month-old down in his crib, ignoring the pang of guilt when he starts whimpering again, and takes Jack’s hand. “Come on, I’ll help you put your earplugs in,” she tugs him to his room. He stumbles slightly as he walks, hand held loosely in hers, and Emily finds herself wishing for her husband yet again as Matthew’s cries reach them in Jack’s room.

She hurriedly helps the little boy with his earplugs, tucking him into bed with a kiss and turning on his white noise machine. 

“I’m sorry, Jack-Jack,” Emily murmurs, giving him another kiss on the forehead as Sergio settles in next to him.

“S’okay,” he slurs, his eyes drifting shut. “Matty’s little, he can’t help it.”

Her heart warms at his words, a rush of irrational tears blurring her vision as she combs his hair away from his face. “Yeah,” she agrees thickly, her throat tight. “But it’s only going to be like this for a few weeks.” I hope.

Matthew cries out again and Emily rises from the bed, giving Jack a kiss before she goes. “Night, sweetheart. I love you.”

His eyes are already closed.

Emily shuts the door to his room and hurries back to the nursery, wincing as Matthew’s cries grow louder. 

“Hey, hey,” she soothes as she picks him up again. All her rocking and shushing and singing is fruitless as she tries to get him to settle again, her eyes heavy and half closed where his are wide open. Her arms ache and she sets him back down in his bed, pressing a palm into her eye as she grabs her phone.

Aaron’s name is blurry when she clicks on it, her fingers shaky as she holds the phone to her ear and walks back to her son, bending down to smooth her hand lightly over his head, shushing him as he flails his hands.

The beeping of the line in her ear only barely drowns out the sound of Matthew’s fussing. Pick up, she pleads, so desperate for Aaron’s reassurance she doesn’t even feel any guilt for the late hour.

The line connects. “Hotchner.” His voice is rough, thick with sleep, and it unravels her.

“Aaron.” 

His eyes fly open. Her voice is frayed with nerves, held together by a single thread that snaps when he speaks out his next words.

“Emily, what’s wrong?”

“He won’t sleep,” her voice breaks and immediately her eyes well up with tears again. They roll down her cheeks in hot streams, dropping off her chin and onto the mattress she’s leaning over. Her voice is shaky when she speaks, sobs trapped between her lungs that she tries to keep quiet. “He woke up twice now and he won’t go back to sleep. I don’t know what he wants, I fed him and changed him but he’s still awake,” she chokes out, pressing a palm into her eyes as Matthew whimpers in his crib. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers helplessly. She swallows against her dry throat and wipes away the hot tears from her son’s cheek, feeling her own sear her skin.

Aaron sits up in bed and grips the phone tightly, feeling his stomach churn with guilt as Emily sniffles. “Shh, baby,” he hears her whisper to Matthew, her voice low and thick with tears.

Helplessness settles on his chest, heavy and crushing as his wife breaks apart. The distance between them stretches, making him feel like he’d put an ocean between them instead of a few hundred miles. “How long did he sleep the first time?”

Emily blows out a breath. “Like…four hours?” She guesses, her eyes darting to the clock. 1:54. “I was just about to go to bed.” 

Aaron grimaces. He opens his mouth but she speaks suddenly. “Could you sing to him?” Emily sniffles. “He likes your singing.” She holds the phone between her shoulder and cheek as Mathew begins to cry again, leaning down to pick him up.

“Yeah,” Aaron sighs, relief flooding his chest at having something to do. “Yeah, sure, put me on speaker.”

She settles the phone on the edge of the crib, putting Aaron on speaker as she rocks her son. “Shh, it’s okay, honey,” she soothes, clearing her dry throat as Mathew blinks at her with dark, wet eyes. She wipes away the tears slipping down his cheeks, “Daddy’s here,” she tucks his head into her neck, lightly swaying back and forth as he sniffles.

“Hey buddy,” Aaron’s voice is soft through the phone, just crackly enough to remind Emily he’s not really here. She holds Matthew tighter and closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the comfort of Aaron’s voice as he starts to hum out a lullaby.

Baby mine, don't you cry.

Baby mine, dry your eyes.

Rest your head close to my heart,

Never to part, baby of mine.

His voice is soothing, deeper than it usually is, and Emily feels her own tears slowing as her son starts to settle. He’s only halfway through the lullaby when Matthew stops shifting completely, his small weight growing heavier in her exhausted arms. Emily looks down to check on him after a few minutes and almost sobs in relief when she finds his eyes closed. She lets Aaron continue singing as she lays him down in the crib and holds her breath, waiting for him to wake again. 

He doesn’t, but she lets Aaron sing through one more song for good measure, her eyes drooping closed by the time he’s done.

She picks up the phone and presses it to her ear as she stumbles out of the nursery, keeping the door ajar. “He’s asleep,” she whispers, slipping into bed with a sigh. The sheets are cool, both on her side and Aaron’s. “It was like this last night, too,” she rubs at her eyes, wiping away the dried tears. “Jack woke up again. I think I’ll take him to sleep at Jess’s tomorrow.”

“That’s a good idea,” Aaron says, his heart squeezing. He hears the rustle of the sheets as she slides deeper into them and leans back in his own bed, her side unbearably cool. “Why didn’t you tell me this happened last night?” He asks quietly.

Emily shrugs, then belatedly realizes he can’t see it. “Didn’t wanna wake you,” she yawns. “You need to be focused,” she mumbles drowsily, turning on her side and watching the baby monitor on her nightstand. Matthew doesn’t stir and she blows out a breath, praying he’ll stay that way till morning.

“How’d he sleep?”

“He didn’t,” she slurs, her words crashing into each other. “We stayed up till, like, three before he did. Hadta sleep in the chair,” she mumbles, her voice growing muffled as she buries her face in her pillow. The phone drops from her hand and onto the mattress with a low thud.

Her breathing evens out in seconds. Aaron stays on the line, brows furrowed as he listens to her deep, slow, inhales through the phone, guilt still lingering in his chest as she breathes out. He whispers a soft, “Good night,” before he quietly ends the call, his frown deepening when he reads the time, 3:16 blinking up at him.

****

It’s a miracle she doesn’t crash the car. Emily takes another sip of coffee to stifle her yawn, blinking away the blurriness in her eyes before grabbing Jack’s backpack and opening his car door. He jumps out of the backseat and she smiles as she fits the bag on his shoulders, bending down to press a kiss to his hair. 

“Aunt Jess will pick you up, okay?” She murmurs, smoothing her hands unnecessarily over his clothes.

Jack nods and gives her a hug, “Maybe Matthew will sleep better today.” He says. Emily sighs as her eyes dart to the sleeping infant in the car seat, his chest moving up and down with slow breaths.

“Maybe,” she says, her stomach turning in anticipation for a long night ahead, even though the sun is barely high enough in the sky. She kisses Jack’s forehead again, “I’ll call you at bedtime, honey,” she murmurs, trying to soothe the guilt in her chest for sending him away. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies, turning to wave to a still sleeping Matthew. “Bye Matthew. Sleep well for Mom.” He bounds off into the school building without a second thought, blissfully unaware of the way Emily’s eyes suddenly well up with tears. She presses her palm into her eyes as she gently shuts the car door, “You Hotchner boys will be the death of me.” She mutters, walking over to the driver’s door and climbing in, turning to look at her sleeping son.

He looks exactly like Aaron does when he sleeps, only with less of a wrinkle between his brows. Emily bites back a smile. “Especially you.” She shakes her head.

Of course when she tries to put him down for his afternoon nap, he fights to stay awake, his eyes flying open seconds after they’ve fluttered shut. 

“I know me and Daddy joked you’d be stubborn, but not like this,” Emily frowns, gently rubbing circles on his back and trying to lull him to sleep. 

Matthew coos in response and she sighs. She fumbles for her phone, fishing it from between the couch cushions, and calls Aaron.

“Hey,” he says when the line connects.

Emily doesn’t realize how tense her shoulders have been until they relax at the sound of his voice. “Hey,” she replies.

Her voice is so tired, raspy like it usually is first thing in the morning, when he wakes her up from deep sleep. It makes his chest tight with guilt. “Everything alright, Em?”

She hums in response, running her thumb over Matthew’s soft cheek and smiling a little at the way his eyelids droop at the contact. “Someone’s fighting sleep. We require your magical, sleep inducing lullabies,” she says softly, her words warping as she stifles a yawn.

He smiles a little, her words only further cementing his decision. “Of course, sweetheart. It’s a little noisy here, though, I’m sorry.” His eyes dart around the bustle of the airport, willing it to quiet down for his wife.

“Pretty sure he won’t care so long as you’re singing,” Emily mumbles, wiping at her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the sleepiness in them. She sinks further into the couch and digs her feet in the space between the cushions as Aaron laughs lightly. She puts him on speaker as he cups his hand over his phone and mouth, his soft voice making Matthew sink into her chest.

Emily smiles as she rubs his back. Magic indeed. Matthew’s breaths deepen at his father’s voice, low and comforting even through the rush of noise Emily assumes belongs to a precinct.

Aaron ignores the wayward glances he gets and hums out two more lullabies, stopping when he no longer hears his son’s gurgles. “Is he asleep?” He whispers.

He’s met with silence.

“Em?”

“Hm?” She startles awake. Shit, she rubs her stiff neck, her blurry gaze fixing on the steady rise and fall of Matthew’s back. “Yeah, yeah, he’s asleep,” she rubs her eyes, putting the phone to her ear with her other hand. “Thanks.” She mumbles.

“You don’t have to thank me. How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” she blows out a breath, closing her eyes when the TV suddenly splits in two. “How’s the case going?”

“Slow,” he replies. Not my problem anymore, he thinks as his flight is called. “I’ll call you later, okay? Try to get some sleep.”

Emily snorts, “Yeah right. I’m glad I married someone with a sense of humor,” she says dryly.

Just two more hours, he wants to tell her, but he knows if he even hinted at coming back she’d vehemently deny his help. “Love you,” he says instead, ending the call when he gets a sleepy reply back.

Emily rubs circles on Matthew’s back, cuddling him to her chest and turning her head to kiss his temple. I should put him in his bed, she thinks as her eyes grow heavy, her arms tightening around him. She tries to move but she just sinks further into the couch, her body going boneless on the floor cushions.

She doesn’t feel her eyes drift shut.

****

Aaron opens the front door to dead silence. He gently shuts it behind him, walking into the living room to find Emily and Matthew sleeping on the couch. Her arms are loosely wrapped around their son, his head cushioned on her chest. Aaron’s chest tightens with a rush of panic, the swirl of emotion closing up his throat as he sets his briefcase down.

He leans over Emily and gently eases Matthew from her loose grip. Aaron settles his son into his arms, blowing out a relieved breath when he feels his slow breaths against his skin. He takes him to the nursery and lays him gently in the crib, kissing his forehead before leaving and shutting the door, a choked breath trapped in his lungs.

He goes back to the living room and finds Emily rising off the couch, her eyes wide in panic. Her brows furrow in confusion when she sees him. “Aaron? Where’s—” 

She sucks in a breath when she realizes what happened. “Did I fall asleep?” Her voice trembles as her bloodshot eyes immediately fill with tears. They spill down her cheeks as she covers her mouth with her palm. “Oh my god. Fuck, I didn’t even feel it. What if—”

“Hey, hey,” Aaron crosses the living room and takes her face in his hands. “Nothing happened,” he says firmly, trying to stop her spiraling, but she shakes her head hysterically.

“I’m so sorry,” Emily gasps. “God, Aaron, what if I—” She cuts off as she presses her lips together, her throat going tight at the thought. “Oh god.”

“Shh. It was a mistake, Em,” he says hoarsely, wiping away her hot tears with his thumbs. “He’s okay, I promise, sweetheart.” He brings her into his chest, bands an arm around her shoulders and holds her tightly to him. “He’s okay,” he breathes.

“I was gonna take him to bed,” her voice is muffled into his neck. Her hands tightly fist his jacket as she trembles, her knees going weak at the thought of what could’ve happened. “I didn’t even feel it,” she whispers. “I swear I was just getting up.” Her voice breaks.

Aaron presses his lips to her forehead. “I know you were. He’s okay, baby,” he blows out a breath and rubs his hands over her arms, whispering reassurances that fall on deaf ears. He holds her tightly until the trembles fade from her body, though her tears are still hot on his skin. 

When she quiets he leans back to look at her, his hands once again finding her cheeks. Aaron frowns at the sight of her dark circles, her eyes bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep. “You’re exhausted, Emily. Let’s get you to bed,” he murmurs. 

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and she sags into him, too tired to fight. She clings to him as they climb the stairs, her face in his neck as she sniffles. He lets her go when she breaks free from his arms and walks to the nursery, gently opening the door. Aaron follows her quietly as she leans over the crib and presses her lips to Matthew’s forehead, fitting her finger into the hollow of his neck and searching for his pulse. She breathes out shakily when it beats beneath her finger, strong and steady.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and kisses his forehead again, almost wishing he’d wake up so her heart would fully settle. 

She doesn’t know how long she stays bent over him before Aaron gently pulls her away from the crib. Emily immediately wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “I didn’t mean it.”

Aaron frowns and leans back to look at her. “Of course you didn’t, Emily. It could happen to anyone.”

She shakes her head, her mouth opening in what he already knows will be an argument to his words, so he beats her to it.

“It happened to me once,” he admits quietly, wiping away the wayward tears leaking out of her eyes. Emily stills, her eyes widening. “I’d just come back from a case and I was dead on my feet, but all I wanted was to hold Jack. ‘Just for a minute’ I told myself, but I fell asleep on the couch.” He takes in a slow breath, his chest pressing against hers, “Haley took him from me.” 

He absently tucks her hair behind her ear, wraps his arms around her waist and leans forward to kiss her forehead, touching her in excess and trying to get the stiff line of her shoulders to loosen. 

“Did you feel like shit, too?” She whispers hoarsely.

Aaron exhales. “Of course I did, Emily. But it was a mistake. That’s why there’s two of us.” He murmurs, his eyes locked on hers. He runs his hands over the curve of her waist, trying to seep reassurance into her skin. “We try as much as we can to keep these things from happening, but sometimes we slip up. That’s why there’s you and me, yeah?” His voice is firm, steady, leaving no room for argument.

Her lips tremble as she nods. “Yeah,” Emily whispers, leaning forward to rest her head on his chest. Her eyes slip back to Matthew, sleeping peacefully in his bed, and her heart squeezes. She grips Aaron’s forearms and releases a shaky exhale into his skin.

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He says. 

Emily nods slightly. She starts to sag against him, her feet struggling to keep her up. Aaron notices and bends down to carry her. She doesn’t protest as he carries her out of the nursery and into their room, gently laying her down on the bed.

He disappears into the bathroom and she settles under herself the covers, bringing them up to her chin. He comes back with a damp towel and sits next to her, cupping her face and gently wiping her face with it.

It’s pointless. 

More tears flow down her cheeks. Aaron sets down the towel and wraps her up in a hug. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he kisses her cheek as she shakes, her chest heaving with silent sobs.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” she chokes out. Aaron carries her into his lap and she immediately curls into him, her hand slipping inside his jacket to clutch his shirt. 

“Shh, I’m here, Em,” he soothes as he lightly strokes her hair. His arms are so warm around her, so familiar. She settles deeper into them, trying to bury under his skin. He wipes away the tears from her cheeks and smiles softly at her when she looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes. “It’s okay. Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

It’s like the weight of the world got lifted off her shoulders; finally having him back with her, having him tell her it’s okay, I’m here. She wants to keep looking at him, but her eyes flutter closed. “I’m so tired,” her voice cracks.

“I know, baby. Go to sleep.” Aaron murmurs, his warm hand rubbing circles on her back. She goes boneless in his arms and twists to bury her face in his neck, feeling the vibration of his voice in his throat as he whispers sweet nothings to her, his other hand tangling in her hair and lightly scratching her scalp.

She barely feels it when he tucks them both beneath the covers, not caring that he’s still fully dressed in his work clothes. She can only listen to the sound of his voice, low and steady as he whispers nonsense in between kisses to her skin.

She hears Aaron hum the beginning of Baby Mine as she tumbles into the darkness, warm and safe in his arms. As her breaths grow heavier, Emily drowsily understands why her son chooses to fall asleep to his father’s voice.

[negative-speedforce]

Your OCs find themselves face-to-face with a fairy-tale trickster! They're told they have to perform one song of their choosing, and it must be suitably entertaining to the trickster, or they'll lose their greatest skill forever! We're talking superpowers, Max's ability to design tech, Hyun-Ki's kills with performance (how ironic), whatever it is that makes them stand out.

What song do they pick, and how do they make sure the trickster is entertained by their performance?

Siv: Shows off their years of guitar lessons with a half-decent performance of "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"

Jay: Can't sing to save his own life, so he gives backup vocals for Cassandra's performance.

Cassandra: Sings "Texas Hold 'Em" by Beyonce, and while her performance by itself would have impressed the trickster by itself, she ends up making them leave because they got uncomfortable when Jay and Cassandra started making out.

Hailey: "Jokes on you, you can't curse me, I'm dead."

Ember: Uses his powers to make gemstones rain on them from the earth as they lipsync to P!nk's "Raise Your Glass" in her glitteriest outfit.

Arya: Mostly impresses the trickster with the fact that every songbird and squirrel was falling out of the trees around them because of their siren song, rather than their performance of BlackPink's "As If It's Your Last"

Gina: Asks if the trickster can wait like ten minutes, and she calls a few of her choir friends over and they perform "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" together.

Esme: Performs "Work Bitch" by Brittany Spears, and impresses them with the fact that no one should be able to dance that well while wearing heels that high and a skirt that short and tight

Cat: Joins Gina and her choir friends for "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" because they're gonna need someone for the alto line (or potentially the tenor line, if Freaking Travis doesn't show up again).

Max: Takes the microphone and starts singing Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" while slow dancing with Kyle and looking longingly into his eyes.

Kyle: Gets his old turntables from when he tried to learn how to DJ and makes a sick remix of Mad Love by Mabel

Eric: Pulls out his violin and performs "The Devil Went Down To Georgia".

Jacob: Serenades his husband with Elvis Presley's "I Cant Help Falling In Love With You".

Khalil: Sings "Daniel In The Den" by Bastille, attempts to impress the trickster by using his magic to create illusions to go along with the lyrics

Ameerah: Growls out a passionate cover of Hell's Coming With Me by Poor Man's Poison

Reggie: Manages to get through Rap God by Eminem without missing a single beat, impresses the trickster because xe's just this tiny kid who can rap that fast.

Antonio: Follows the trickster around for two hours playing The Song That Never Ends on kazoo until they promise not to curse him (yay psychological warfare)

Rania: Sings "Can't Catch Me Now" by Olivia Rodrigo and manages to impress the trickster with the sheer emotion coming through her performance (she is actually crying tears of rage by the end)

Kelsie: Sits the trickster down and pulls out a pad of paper and her glasses, and begins digging down into why they feel the need to do things like this. They feel much better after this impromptu therapy session.

Torryn: Just steals the trickster's magic and runs off with it.

Cory: Impresses the trickster with her fry scream and midair acrobatics while singing Monstarrr by Ennaria

Meredith: Starts signing aggressively about how she's "deaf and mute, dipshit, how is she supposed to perform music?" until the trickster feels bad and goes away.

Director Hawke

Onnie: Disintegrates the trickster before they can curse them and then she goes on with her day to day life.

Pippa: Sings a dreamy cover of "Flowers In My Hair" by Wes Reeve while daydreaming about kissing that mysterious Thawne girl she's only met a few times...

Jessi: Performs one of her own hit singles, puts on a really great show, and attracts a crowd of people because "OH MY GOD IS THAT JESSI JUNO???" (if you're looking for a real-world song with a similar vibe to her music, try "Bitches" by Tove Lo)

Hyun-Ki: Sings a haunting cover of Ave Maria, because no one expects the K-Pop star to be classically trained.

Marie: Screams out Girli's "More than a Friend" while useless lesbian-ing out over Qiara's existence, until she's blushing so bad that her face is bright green.

Liah: Dances to "Bombay Dreams" by KSHMR and shows off her skills from her former job as a Bollywood star.

Qiara: "No." *vanishes*. Jokes on you, you can't do that to an omnipotent space god.

Soraya: Asks for a religious exemption, since she's of the school of Islam that doesn't allow music or singing, so therefore she doesn't really know that many songs.

<note: for the Star Wars OCs, just assume it's the space equivalent to the song>

Thalia: Sings Elastic Heart by Sia (Space Version), actually does a fairly good job.

Reyna: Thinks she sounds great, but actually sucks so hard as she quite literally screeches out Space Demi Lovato's "Cool For The Summer".

Laila: Sings "Trouble" by Space Halsey, very obviously singing it to Athena. Stabs the trickster for even daring to suggest cursing her once she's done.

Athena: Manages to capture the trickster in a sack and then takes them back to her lab, where she decides to vivisect them to see how they work, all while singing a very sultry, seductive cover of Space Ariana Grande's "Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I'm Bored"

Pyrrha: Screams out "Weapon" by Space Against the Current (which is basically her theme song), and impresses the trickster with her dance moves, since her cybernetic limbs have higher strength and range of motion than her natural ones.

Samira: Duets "Rewrite The Stars" with Aldrich, since it's their song as a vampire/human couple (BIG taboo on that one)

Aldrich: Duets "Rewrite The Stars" with Samira, taking Zac Efron's part while Samira does Zendaya's part.

Sohelia: Sings "Snakes" By PVRIS, all while visualizing Mr. Head of the Hunters' Guild, immortal alchemist, and accidental creator of Vampires everywhere, Thaddeus St. James, so she puts far more vitriol into her performance than necessary.

Dolores: Sings "Which Witch" by Florence + The Machine and impresses the trickster with her powerful belting and the sheer emotion behind the performance (living your life at risk of being hunted for sport will do that to you)

Victorie: Plays Vivaldi's Four Seasons on violin, since that was new music when she was alive.

Matt: Sings "Believe" by Cher, can't really do anything that special with his performance with his EDS and everything, so he makes sure and puts some extra "oomph" in with his voice.

Vanessa: Sings "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, while slow dancing with Victorie, putting special emphasis on the line "Beauty is all she is".

Ellis: They're an angel, so they sing the Hallelujah Chorus with the voice of one. Probably go into the full "be not afraid" Biblically Accurate Angel form too.