#jordan leaning over him????

[hendolish]

SORRY?!

[peaceblank]

Man, it's so annoying how recently there has been several things that really emphasize just how much it takes for some people to accept a character is jewish.

Be it from heavily coded in the text with an added word of god, to literally shown or out right stated in the text. Somehow, people will still crawl out of the woodwork to say, "well that doesn't mean they're jewish".

Meanwhile, in almost every piece of media a character could do absolutely nothing in regards to any religion and everyone will immediately just assume they're some flavor of christian. It is treated as the default and not something that has to be revealed. You do not need to dig and sift through the characters entire existence to justify having them celebrate christmas, but god forbid you have the briefest hint of giving them some other religion. People will come out of nowhere asking you why you would do this, demanding you cite your sources for why you would dare sully this character like that.

[lingeringscars]

I think there is an element of....layla being afraid of labels. Layla shying away from labeling her and Jordan. Layla being okay with them bouncing between all the places because they're basically living together without it being official. It's an element of her feeling like she gets the best of both worlds. She gets what she truly wants while still protecting herself. Jordan moves quickly and feels intensely and in many ways, that helps her loosen up and feel things herself. She's able to talk to him about what she's thinking and feeling and she does trust that to be safe, but sometimes she can also invalidate his feelings because she's more grounded and down to earth and it's just Jordan going on one of his wild rides. He's worried about things that are so far in the future (being dramatic) and she has real concerns right now (patience, her lounge, her label).

There isn't a part of Layla that doesn't want that life with him, but she's not necessarily ready for it. She's still very young, and she's focused on making a name for herself in business. She wants to be with him for the rest of her life, but she's scared of what it means to fully give in to that. She is still learning how to trust, and her entire relationship with Jordan thus far has taken place during a really good time for her mental health. She's starting to slip, and she needs to learn how to navigate that while in a relationship. She broke it off with spencer, she didn't want anything serious with clay, and now she's shying away with Jordan. I do believe she'll get there and will learn how to navigate and rely on him and also encourage his own romantic tendencies, she just feels suffocated by them currently because 2 years feels like such a long time.

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[mariswxt]

—————————————— DILF.ᐟDICK THOUGHTS, ANYONEᝰ.ᐣ

CLEAR BLUE SKIES AND THE GOLDEN SUN did nothing to lessen the difficulty of putting on sunscreen with a wriggling two year old daughter demanding your attention. You loved Jordan, of course you did, but since she was a mama’s girl it was hard to spend two minutes to yourself without her squealing for you, and with her chubby cheeks and sweet giggle, you felt like you’d go to hell if you refused.

Ah, kids, they can be devils and angels at the same time.

“She still being a lil’ siren?” Your neighbour and best friend, Cassie, smiled, sitting down next to you on the multiple beach towels you’d set out, in between you being Jordan, who was babbling random things while making a sandcastle. “How ‘bout I take care of her for a while? So you can get your freak on with a guy I found for you.”

Oh, again?

Cassie had been in the big business lately of being your matchmaker, but you didn’t think anyone could possibly be that welcoming to a woman with a two year old and who’s also in her twenties. Just didn’t seem to fit. So you rolled your eyes and groaned again, pulling the hem of your cami dress down before you leaned back on your hands.

“Cass, I don’t think we should do this dance again.” You sighed, adjusting your sunglasses and stroking Jordan’s hair as she babbled about ‘pretty princesses’. “Last time it—”

“— didn’t end well, I know, but trust me this time!”

“You said that last time.”

“Ugh, wait, hear me out.” She straightened up, dusting her hands down. “Look, he’s new to the neighbourhood, but he’s, like, the eligible bachelor. He’s so hot, so hot, so if you won’t get with him, I will. Go on, look.” She placed her hand on top of your head to turn it.

Your reflex was to protest, as your head was forcefully turned like it was some sort of fucking doorknob. “Cassie Rhodes, I don’t— holy… shit.”

Oh, mama.

Your eyes were slapped with the sight of the sexiest man you’d ever seen— and all thought flew from your brain except from what you wanted that man to do to you. Seems like your upstairs brain and downstairs finally came to an agreement here.

He was about 5’ 10”, from what you could see, with messed up black hair, eyes hidden behind hot sunglasses, a jawline that could cut steel and pink lips stretched into a grin. Not to mention how you could see every glorious muscle glow under the influence of the sun and sunblock all over every inch of skin you could see. The washboard abs made your teeth catch your bottom lip between them, the biceps made your mouth water and mind conjure up dirty things, the veins in that very defined forearm and football in his hand which he then threw to a guy who seemed to be either a friend or his brother.

You didn’t care, your brain was no longer functioning, oh, Lord help your soul.

“Cassie,” You breathed, a grin slowly spreading on your face, “you’re a genius.”

You didn’t know what it was about him that made you act like a horny teenager— yeah, no, you knew exactly what it was, it was his everything. As if it wasn’t enough, your eyes picked up a little girl running towards him on unsteady legs on sand, and when she reached him, he scooped her up with a laugh and a kiss to her forehead.

Men and children. Mayday, hot men and children.

“Sweetie, I give you Phoenix’s latest eligible bachelor… DICK GRAYSON.” Cassie giggled, patting your shoulder, but you didn’t listen, your ears were filled with static, staring at the way his abs rippled when he threw the football, how he occasionally bit his lip with those pearly whites which flooded your mouth with drool, and the swim trunks weren’t helping either. Also how there was a little girl that looked like Jordan running up to him— Jordan was running up to him?

You gasped, scrambling to stand up as Jordan hugged Dick’s leg, earning a small look of surprise. “Oh, shit, shit!” But just as you were about to reach Jordan, scoop her up and tell her not to hug a stranger’s leg, but the little shit ran out of the way just in time and sent you barrelling straight into the man of your wet dreams.

“Woah, there.” Fuck, that is one hot voice. Two strong hands steadied you, and as you looked up, you saw blue eyes behind pushed down sunglasses. “You ok, sweetheart?”

Hot damn. Despite actually getting the breath knocked out of him, the moment he laid eyes on you, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. You were gorgeous, with the stunning swelled body that usually came as a sign of pregnancy (and he was digging it), sunglasses and a cami dress that kind of had him flicking his eyes down the neckline of it. You were a MILF, if he ever saw one, and it had him salivating and running his eyes over every individual dip, curve, and imagining what it’d be like to bury his head between those stunning thighs.

Whew, that’s one hot mama.

Those pregnancy curves really did it for him, and he had to press his tongue between his teeth to hold back a whistle, nodding faintly. Oh, what he wouldn’t do for your number, dear Lord.

“I’m ok.” You first breathed out, then cleared your throat cause you didn’t want to seem pathetic. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about Jordan, she can be a loveable pain.”

“Loveable pain? I know the type.” He gestured to where a little girl who looked like his carbon copy was playing with a tall dude with a tuft of platinum hair at the front. “That’s my Skylar, but we call her Sky. Also a little troublemaker.” He held his hand out, but like in a palm-facing-up moment, not a firm handshake moment. “M’name’s Dick, darlin’. Dick Grayson.”

You probably told him your name, all you were focused on was plopping your hand in his— oh, God, he probably thought you were a crazy person. But instead of shaking it like ‘one of the boys’ would, he lifted your hand to his mouth and… and he kissed the knuckle.

You knew who you’d be touching yourself to tonight.

“S’ a pleasure to meet you. I just moved into the neighbourhood, it’ll be nice to have someone in the same boat to, y’know, talk to.” The way he glanced to you over his sunglasses told me that if he did decide to come to you, there’d be absolutely no talking done.

You nodded, and you vowed to never wash your hand again when he let it go. Jesus, he was jacked and gentle, what more could you ask for? “Of course, pop over whenever you like.”

“Best believe I will.” He grinned, and when you said a small, meek goodbye and walked off, he bit his lip upon seeing that ass and thighs in that dress of yours. Mhmm, he was so gonna grab that when he fucked all the stress of being a single mom out of you.

Jason punched his shoulder as he came up beside him, folding his arms. “Dickhead, you’ve got the ‘I wanna fuck her’ look in your eyes.”

“Shut up, Jay.” Dick scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re so crass.” Even as he scooped Sky up in his arms and nuzzled her hair as she let out a squeal of laughter, his eyes couldn’t help but flick back to you, your sun-kissed, glowy skin from being slathered in sunblock and the winking sun all day and every just right proportion that he loved in a lady.

Oh, he wanted to do a lot more than just fuck you.

[reidology13]

Reader goes to the triathlon w Jack and everyone's like 'omg is this ur gf' and he's like nooo this is my babysitter but they're like doing heart eyes the whole time and she's being rly cute w Jack and the whole team is like shipping them xoxoxoxoxoxo

you really got a hold on me

Aaron Hotchner x fem babysitter!reader

cw: age gap, canon typical lack of boundaries??? fluff, fluff, and more fluff wc: 1.6k a/n: this is my first req, which is a little bit terrifying, I hope it lives up to your expectations! I moved the triathlon so Jack's still around 4/5 just bc my girl has been pining for years and I don't want to stretch that out too much <3

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You kept Jack close, hands on his shoulders to keep him from disappearing into the crowd, although you knew he would be unlikely to stray from your side either way. People had started crossing the finish line about half an hour ago, and your best guess was that Aaron would cross it any second now. You were correct, as it would happen, and a few minutes later he appeared in the stampede, sweat-covered and grinning as his eyes locked on yours.

“Jack, look!” You crouched down beside the boy, pointing in the direction of his father, jogging towards the finish line.

“Daddy!” He cheered, and you whooped as he crossed the line, starting to slow down as he made his way to the table with water and medals.

Once he had navigated a route out of the crowd, you walked with Jack over to him, waving to try and catch his attention again now that you were both in different places. He met your gaze, walking to you, breath heaving.

“Hey, bud.” He leant down to hug Jack, picking him up and swinging him around before placing him back down and turning to you.

“You did amazing.” You smiled up at him, almost in awe, and he did something completely unexpected, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you into him, “Get off me! You’re all gross and sweaty.”

“Never.” You didn’t put up a fight.

“Should we leave you two love bugs alone?” A familiar voice rang out, and he released you, allowing the blonde to enter your field of vision.

“Garcia.” He said slowly, that stern, stoic mask slipping into place over his handsome features, and you couldn’t help but ogle when he looked like that. There was something about it, the way it set into the sharp lines of his jaw, suiting his strong facial features so perfectly. 

“Sorry, sir.” She said, although you had a feeling she wasn’t apologetic in the slightest, mainly from the broad grin spread across her face that promised trouble.

And then the pack descended.

A wolf whistle, “Hello, gorgeous. You the lady our man’s been seeing?”

“Um, no, I’m not-” You tried to clear up the obvious miscommunication, fueled by Penelope’s meddling, but you were interrupted, this time by a female voice.

“If he ever hurts you, feel free to call me.” She winked, and you felt your cheeks grow warm, becoming more embarrassed by the second.

“No, we’re really not-” Apparently, Aaron’s entire team had a thing for not listening, no wonder he was so tired all the time.

“Way to go, Aaron, but isn’t she a little young?” You rolled your eyes at that.

“I’m standing right here, you know.” You looked up at him, silently begging him to get his team in line.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” They went silent, and you breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning into him as you realised he still had an arm around you.

“I’m Jack’s babysitter.” You introduced yourself to each of the group, besides Penelope. You wished JJ was there, but she’d had a baby roughly a week ago, marathons weren’t exactly her mood right now.

You decide that you liked Jordan and Spencer the most, because they had stayed quiet while the rest of the team teased you about your nonexistent relationship. Once everything quieted down, and the novelty of you had expired enough for them to turn their attention to food, you turned to Aaron. You realised that in all of the excitement—first of the race, then the team—that you hadn’t really gotten to speak to him.

“Hi.” You beamed, feeling awkward after the team’s fast paced attack of moments earlier, worse because part of you wished it was true. Scratch that, every single bone, muscle, ligament, every cell in your body, wished it was true.

“Hi.” He smiled back, and you were completely oblivious to how you were just standing there, staring at him and his stupidly handsome features, until a pointed cough broke through your daze. You weren’t sure you liked Spencer anymore. The rest of the team’s eyes shot to you immediately, and you knew you were never going to hear the end of it.

“Aaron, can we go? I don’t like these people.” You groaned, the second part mostly joining. Mostly.

“Anything for you. Jack, are you okay with celebrating at home?” He tugged the boy’s hand lightly to capture his attention, and Jack nodded, smiling as wide as ever, entirely unbothered by the change of plans.

“I’ll make your favourite.” You grinned up at him, “And we can buy ice cream on the way home.”

“Are you sure you’re not dating?” Emily piped up, and you glared at her, taking a step away from Aaron, as if to prove a point.

“I’m very sure.”

“She’s half my age, Prentiss.” 

“Okay, I’m not half your age, please, you make me sound like a baby.” You scoffed.

“No, of course you’re not, I just happen to be very old.” He rubbed your shoulder gently in a silent apology.

“You’re only thirty-eight, Aaron.”

“Aww, you even fight like a couple.”

“Please stop, he pays me to be here. I would rather not lose half my paycheck for fleeing right now.” Technically, he wasn’t paying you for this, the outing with Jack was completely voluntary, which had nothing to do with Aaron post-run. Absolutely nothing.

“Oh, so it’s a sugar daddy thing?” She smirked.

“It’s a babysitter thing.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He grabbed you by the arm, commandeering you away from the group, and you heard a few loud comments about manhandling, as well as the word ‘daddy’ thrown around fairly liberally. “I’m sorry about them, they’re incorrigible.” He murmured against your ear, giving your arm a squeeze.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind it.” He looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, Jack piped up, calling your name, “Yeah, bud?”

“I wanna hold your hand, too.” You could have cried, standing right there in the parking lot, only a few feet from the car.

“Oh, of course.” You and Aaron rearranged Jack so that he stood in between you, each of you holding one of his hands.

“I’m hungry.”

“Me too, buddy.”

“It might take me a bit too long to cook…” You trailed off, swinging Jack’s arm, “There’s a great barbeque spot about ten minutes from here?”

“Sounds great, Jack, what do you think?”

“Yes.” He seemed very sure for someone you were pretty certain had no idea what a barbeque was. Aaron loved to use the grill when he had the chance, and yet no matter how many times the word was said, Jack would still be surprised at dinner. You figured he would pick it up in a year or two.

You reached the car, helping Jack into the child car seat in the back as Aaron slid into the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition. Once Jack was safely secured, you circled around the back of the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Do you know the directions? Aaron turned to look at you, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

“I think so.” You nodded as he pulled out of the parking space, the way he turned his head to double check the space behind the car made the tendons pop out from under the skin of his neck.

You did your best to direct him, although you missed one or two turns, courtesy of Aaron’s side profile looking a little too good. It took about ten minutes longer than it should have to pull up in the parking lot of the restaurant, and the sheen of sweat that had covered his skin had dried by the time you walked in. You were seated in a booth next to a window, and Jack insisted on sitting on your lap until the food arrived. You helped him with his restaurant-branded colouring page, a drawing of a pig cooking sausages on a grill, which was rather grim to anyone over the age of eight.

After lunch, Aaron drove you back to your campus, parking outside your dorm building. You hopped out of the car, walking around to the other side to hug Jack goodbye, then turned to the driver’s door. Aaron rolled down the window, and you leant against the windowsill on your forearms to talk to him.

“Did lunch live up to your expectations?”

“I preferred the company.” 

“So, I guess I’m never getting to choose where we eat again…” You pouted, trying to distract yourself from the warmth that blossomed in your chest at his words, at how casually he could say something so disastrous. 

“Of course you can, it was wonderful.” But you were better. He reached out, one of his hands gently running down your upper arm as he spoke, and maybe that was why you did what you did next.

“Thank you for the ride,” You smiled at him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. You stood there, leaning into the car, and time seemed to slow in a moment where everything was perfect. You stepped back, and reality crashed over you like a wave, a lump in your throat as you stumbled away from him.

“Have a good day.” He waved, and you nodded, licking your lips nervously, tasting the salt of his skin on your lips.

“You too.” You waved back at him, walking backwards from the car, “And shower! You taste like sweat!” You called out, hands cupped to your face to project your voice as you got further away from him, choking on your words.

He shook his head, an amused grin gracing his face as he pulled the car away from the sidewalk. You stood there, like a love stricken schoolgirl who’d just had her first kiss during a game of spin the bottle. 

Life changing.

Inconsequential.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams - Comment to be added <3

[sanjisprincesss]

“We listen and we don’t judge!”

Summery: basically the “we listen and we don’t judge.” Trend with DC characters.

Ft: Bruce Wayne x reader, Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Barry Allen x reader, Clark Kent x reader, Diana Prince x reader, Wally west x reader, Hal Jordan x reader.

Warnings/content: crack fic and no warnings.

Izzy’s notey: “we listen and we don’t judge” we all say in unison! Also I knoww old trend.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

You held your phone, staring at Dick as he squirmed, clearly not thrilled about being part of this trend. “Alright, Dick. You know the drill: We listen, and we don’t judge.”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “Fine, but you might regret asking for this one.”

“We won’t judge!” you assured him.

He sighed, looking embarrassed. “Okay, sometimes… I wear my old acrobat costume to bed. Just for nostalgia, I swear! I haven’t used it in years, but it still fits, and… it’s comfy.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you sleep in a costume that’s meant for performing stunts?”

He shot you a glare. “I don’t judge your weird habits, alright?”

You laughed. “Dick, that’s adorable. I mean, who needs pajamas when you have your acrobat outfit?”

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

Jason leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed. “You really want me to do this?”

“Yes! We listen and don’t judge, Jason!” you exclaimed.

Jason groaned. “Fine. Sometimes, after I get a really bad headache from patrol, I’ll go to the store and buy a stuffed animal. A big one.”

You blinked, then tilted your head. “What? Like, a teddy bear?”

He nodded begrudgingly. “Yeah. Sometimes a penguin or a dog, too. Just something to squeeze while I try to relax.”

You burst out laughing. “Jason, that’s the most surprising thing I’ve ever heard about you!”

“Shut up!” he shot back, but you could see the faintest blush creeping up his neck. “I said no judging!”

Tim Drake (Red Robin)

Tim’s face was already flushed when you asked him to do the trend. “You sure about this?”

You nodded eagerly. “We listen, and we don’t judge.”

He sighed, rubbing his face. “Fine, but this is embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe. Your secret is safe with me!”

Tim hesitated before giving in. “Okay, sometimes I get too attached to fictional characters. Like… I cried over the death of a character in a book I read when I was thirteen. And I still feel bad about it.”

You blinked. “A book character?”

“Yeah! I know, it’s silly. It was just this whole dramatic scene, and I couldn’t help it!” He sighed dramatically. “I haven’t lived it down since.”

You smiled warmly at him. “Tim, it’s okay. Fictional characters can hit hard. I’m right there with you!”

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

Bruce stood, arms crossed, looking more irritated than usual. “This is a waste of time.”

“It’s not a waste! We listen, and we don’t judge!” you coaxed.

“Fine. But I’m not sharing anything personal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We all have our embarrassing moments, Bruce.”

He let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. “Sometimes, when I’m alone in the Batcave, I play chess against myself. And I take it… very seriously. Like, I’ll lose a match and get genuinely angry at myself.”

Your jaw dropped. “Bruce, you play chess against yourself?”

He shot you a death glare. “I said no judging.”

“I’m not judging!” you reassured him quickly, trying to stifle your laughter. “Just… never expected you to be a competitive chess player with yourself.”

Barry Allen (The Flash)

Barry’s eyes were already twinkling with mischief as you asked him to participate. “Alright, I’m in. We listen, we don’t judge.”

“Exactly,” you said, holding up your phone. “You go first.”

Barry shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, so, um, sometimes I… binge-watch cooking shows. But not for the recipes. I just like watching people eat the food. It’s… calming.”

You blinked, staring at him. “Wait, what? You watch cooking shows… for the food they eat?”

Barry flushed, his face turning red. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird. But it’s like I can almost taste it if I watch closely enough.”

You giggled. “Barry, you’re a grown man, and you’re watching people eat? That’s adorable.”

“I said no judging!” he protested.

Clark Kent (Superman)

Clark cleared his throat nervously as you asked him to share. “Alright, you’ve got me here. We listen, and we don’t judge, right?”

You grinned. “Right. No judgment.”

Clark sighed, a little embarrassed. “Sometimes I… listen to pop music when I’m flying. And, uh, I might even sing along. Really loudly. Like, off-key.”

You tried to hold back your laughter. “Superman? Off-key?”

He looked at you sheepishly. “I know, it’s not my best talent, but it’s… it’s relaxing.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughing out loud. “Clark, I love you even more now. The image of you singing pop songs in the sky is too perfect.”

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

Diana crossed her arms, looking calm as ever but slightly embarrassed. “I suppose I’ll share. But remember, no judgment.”

“We won’t judge!” you promised.

She exhaled slowly. “Sometimes, after a long day, I listen to classical music. But… I pretend to conduct the orchestra with a broom. Like, full-on, dramatic movements.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. “Wait, you pretend to be a conductor… with a broom?”

She nodded, her face flushed. “I can’t help it. It’s soothing, but I don’t let anyone see.”

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach. “Diana, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

Wally West (Kid Flash)

Wally immediately sat up with excitement when you asked him to participate. “Oh, I’ve got a good one for you!”

“We listen, and we don’t judge,” you reminded him.

Wally’s grin widened. “Okay, so, sometimes I get really into cartoons, right? And I end up laughing so hard that I snort. Like, uncontrollably. And it’s not cute.”

You blinked, trying to process it. “Wait, you… snort?”

He nodded, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Yeah. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop. It’s embarrassing.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back laughter. “Wally, that’s honestly the cutest thing I’ve heard.”

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I knew you’d judge me!”

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

Hal leaned against the wall, already grinning. “Alright, alright. I’m ready for this.”

“We listen, and we don’t judge,” you reminded him.

Hal’s eyes shifted to the side. “So, sometimes when I’m bored, I, uh, use my ring to do… ballet poses. You know, just floating around in midair and doing pirouettes and stuff.”

You blinked. “Wait, you do ballet… with a Green Lantern ring?”

“Yeah, well, I’m great at it,” he said confidently. “I might even look graceful sometimes.”

You snorted, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “Hal, you’re a big tough guy and you’re doing ballet? That’s amazing.”

“You said no judging!” he shot back, but you could see he was trying not to smile.

[bueckersstuff]

Part I - Part II

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

The email arrives at exactly 2:37 PM.

Subject: UConn Alumni Reunion – Invitation

From: UConn Alumni Association

To all our dearest alumni,

We are excited to invite you to the University of Connecticut 5-Year Alumni Reunion! Join us for an evening of celebration, reconnecting with old classmates, and reminiscing about unforgettable moments at UConn.

Date: June 11, 2030

Time: 7:00 PM

Venue: The Ritz - Carlton Rooftop Lounge

We look forward to seeing you there!

Best,

UConn Alumni Association

You stare at the email, your cursor hovering over the RSVP button.

It’s been years since you’ve thought about UConn, at least in any way that mattered. You moved on, built a life separate from your college years, and left behind the people who came with it.

Most of them, anyway.

But now, the memories start creeping back in.

Paige Bueckers.

And Jordan Hawkins, your ex - boyfriend.

You exhale sharply, leaning back in your chair. You weren’t on the basketball team, but you still spent way too much time around it. Dating Jordan meant late-night games, post-season parties, and always feeling like you were on the outside of something bigger than you.

And then there was Paige.

She was never just some athlete to you. You grew up together—neighbors, forced into each other’s lives by your parents’ friendship. You were never quite friends, but you weren’t strangers either. There were always moments where it almost felt like you could be close.

Then, college happened.

Then, that night happened.

Paige, drunk and reckless, kissing you at a party like it meant something. Then waking up the next day and acting like it never did.

She never talked about it. Never gave you a reason. And you? You let her pretend, let the space grow until whatever you had between you just wasn’t anymore.

And now? Now you have to see her. And Jordan.

You click RSVP: Yes before you can think too hard about it.

__

The reunion venue is a high-end rooftop bar, packed with familiar faces. You step inside, scanning the room, nerves twisting in your stomach.

You don’t even get a chance to settle before—

"Well, well. Look who decided to show up."

You recognize the voice immediately.

Jordan Hawkins is leaning against the bar, looking obnoxiously good, surrounded by a few former teammates. He smirks, eyes dragging over you like he’s trying to figure out why you’re here.

"Didn’t think reunions were your thing," he says smoothly.

"Didn’t think they were yours either," you fire back.

He chuckles, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Still single?”

Your stomach tightens. You hate that question. The way it sounds too casual, too knowing. You hesitate for a second too long, and Jordan’s smirk deepens.

And then, as if the universe wants to make this night worse—

You see her.

Paige.

She’s near the balcony, caught mid-laugh with a former teammate. She looks exactly the same, like time hasn’t touched her—confident, magnetic, like she still owns every room she walks into.

Your breath catches, just for a second.

Jordan’s watching you watch her, and his smirk shifts into something sharper. “Huh,” he muses. “That’s interesting.”

You don’t give him a chance to keep going.

Because the next thing you know, you’re moving across the room, straight to Paige. You grab her wrist, and she startles, turning toward you.

"Go with it," you whisper, just before you pull her in and kiss her.

She freezes.

Then—her hands grip your waist, and just as quickly, she kisses you back.

__

Paige's lips are soft. Too soft for something this impulsive, this reckless.

For a second—a dangerous, heart-stopping second—she doesn’t pull away. Her hands tighten on your waist, her body molding into yours like this is something natural. Something practiced.

Like she’s done this before.

Like she remembers.

Then she makes a noise—low, almost like a startled hum—and you feel her start to tense. You know the moment’s slipping, spiraling toward what the hell was that? and why are you kissing me in the middle of a reunion?

So you do what any sane, rational person would do.

You double down.

You pull back just enough to keep up the act but not enough to give her space to question it. Your fingers slide to the nape of her neck, your body leaning into hers as you tilt your head, plastering on an easy smirk.

"You’re supposed to kiss me like you mean it, babe," you murmur just loud enough for Jordan to hear.

Paige’s breath hitches. Her fingers twitch against your waist.

Then, instead of pushing you off like you half-expect, she looks at you. Really looks at you. Like she’s trying to see through the lie, trying to figure out why you’re doing this.

You don’t give her the chance.

You turn, still close enough that Paige’s body heat lingers against yours, and meet Jordan’s gaze head-on.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" you ask, feigning innocence.

Jordan’s expression is unreadable for a moment. Then he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

"Well, damn," he says, swirling the ice in his glass. "Guess that answers my question."

Paige shifts beside you, exhaling like she’s just processed what’s happening. You can feel the tension in her body, the way she’s suddenly hyperaware of how close you are.

Then, just when you think she might blow your cover—

She plays along.

Paige slides an arm around your waist, casual, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. "You always did like to talk too much, Hawkins."

It’s so Paige. That cocky, confident, just-this-side-of-teasing tone that makes people hang on her every word. And it works.

Jordan raises his hands in surrender, a smirk playing at his lips. "Didn’t realize you two were a thing now. My bad."

You feel Paige glance at you, waiting for you to correct him. To end whatever this is before it spirals.

But you’re not ready for that yet.

So instead, you tighten your grip on her, just enough to make it convincing. "Guess there’s a lot you don’t know."

Jordan watches you for a beat longer. Then he lets out another amused chuckle, like he’s still processing the bullshit you just fed him. "Noted. Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it."

And with that, he walks off, disappearing into the crowd.

The second he’s gone, Paige pulls back, her fingers untangling from your waist like she’s been burned.

"What the hell was that?" she hisses, her voice low but sharp.

You rub the back of your neck, shifting awkwardly. "I panicked."

Paige blinks. "So your solution was to kiss me?"

You exhale, crossing your arms. "Look, my ex was being an ass, and I just… I needed to shut him up."

Paige stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. "And that required me pretending to be your girlfriend?"

You shrug. "Well, it worked, didn’t it?"

Paige drags a hand down her face, muttering something under her breath. Then she levels you with a look, her blue eyes sharp and assessing. "Tell me this isn’t just a one-time thing."

You hesitate.

Paige catches it immediately. "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."

You glance around, lowering your voice. "Jordan’s gonna be watching me all night, and I—" You exhale. "I don’t want him thinking I lost. That I’m still—"

Still hung up on the past. Still figuring out why Paige’s lips felt like a memory you’ve been trying to bury.

Paige crosses her arms, watching you carefully. "So what? You want me to keep this up all night?"

You nod. "Just for tonight. Just until the reunion’s over."

She should say no. You know she should.

But then she looks at you—really looks at you—and something flickers in her expression. Something you can’t quite name.

Then she sighs, tilting her head back like she already regrets this.

"You owe me," she mutters. But you hear the yes hidden in the words.

__

Paige agrees, but she doesn’t look happy about it.

You don’t blame her.

You’re not sure what’s worse—the fact that you just roped her into this mess, or the fact that some sick part of you likes that she said yes.

"You owe me," she mutters again, stepping back just enough to put distance between you.

"I know," you say, even though you have no idea how to make it up to her.

Paige sighs, runs a hand through her hair, then levels you with a look. "Rules."

You blink. "Rules?"

"If we’re doing this, we need ground rules."

Of course, Paige would make this feel like a damn contract negotiation.

You cross your arms, tilting your head. "Alright, lay ‘em on me."

Paige holds up a finger.

"One: no getting too handsy. We need to make it believable, but I don’t need you feeling me up just because you can."

Your mouth opens, then closes. "That’s rich coming from the one who grabbed my waist first."

Paige’s eyes narrow. "That was for the act."

You smirk. "Uh-huh. Sure."

She exhales sharply, moving on. "Two: no weird couple pet names."

"What, no ‘babe’? No ‘sweetheart’?" you tease, watching the way her jaw tightens.

"I will end this right now," she warns.

You hold up your hands in surrender, biting back a grin. "Fine, fine. No pet names. What else?"

Paige hesitates. You watch her throat bob as she swallows, something flickering in her expression before she sets her jaw.

"Three: this is just for tonight. After this, we go back to normal."

You don’t know why that one stings.

Maybe because nothing has been normal with Paige for years.

Maybe because you don’t even know what normal with her looks like anymore.

But you shove that thought down and nod. "Deal."

Paige nods once, like she’s trying to convince herself this is fine. Like she didn’t just agree to one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had.

And then, as if the universe wants to remind you just how much worse this can get—

"Holy shit," a voice cuts through the crowd.

You barely have time to react before someone barrels into Paige, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

"No way," Aaliyah Edwards grins, looking between you two. "Since when are you guys a thing?"

Your stomach drops.

Aaliyah is one of Paige’s closest friends, her old UConn teammate, and someone who absolutely does not let things go.

Worse?

Jordan Hawkins is close enough to hear every word.

Your stomach tightens as you see him pause mid-conversation, glancing over with a raised brow.

Paige feels it too.

Because before you can even process what’s happening, she shifts closer—so close you can feel the warmth of her against your side.

And then, just as smoothly, she slides her hand into yours.

"A while now," Paige says effortlessly, giving your fingers a quick squeeze. "Guess we just kept it quiet."

Your brain short-circuits.

Because she sounds so convincing. Because her hand in yours feels too damn natural. Because Jordan is still watching, and you can feel the weight of his stare like a challenge.

So you do the only thing you can do.

You squeeze Paige’s hand back, force a smirk, and say, "Yeah, we just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it."

Aaliyah’s eyes go wide. "No way. I knew something was up back in college, but damn. So you finally—"

She gestures vaguely, like finally means something specific.

Paige hums, tilting her head at you. "Oops. Too late for that now, huh?"

Her eyes gleam—like she’s enjoying this. Like she’s waiting to see if you’ll flinch.

Oh, you hate her for being good at this.

But maybe you hate yourself more for playing right into it.

__

Aaliyah is still staring at you both like she just caught a rare species in the wild.

"I mean, damn," she whistles. "You two really had us fooled. Thought y’all just tolerated each other."

Paige laughs—an easy, practiced sound—but her grip on your hand tightens. "Guess we just played it cool."

Cool. Right. Because this is so normal.

You risk a glance at Jordan. He’s still watching, expression unreadable. He doesn’t look jealous, exactly, but there’s something calculating in the way he lifts his glass, studying you over the rim.

A test.

Paige must see it too because she makes the next move before you can.

"Babe," she says smoothly, and your body stiffens at the word. "Wanna get some air?"

She’s giving you an out. An escape before Aaliyah asks too many questions, before Jordan picks apart whatever mess you’ve just created.

And you should take it. You should.

But instead—because you’re an idiot—you lean into the lie.

"No rush," you say, smiling up at her. "I kinda like showing you off."

Paige’s breath hitches. It’s barely noticeable, just the smallest change in her expression, but you see it.

Aaliyah lets out a bark of laughter. "Damn, so that’s how it is? You two are one of those couples?"

"What can I say?" you tease, squeezing Paige’s hand just to be an ass. "She’s cute when she blushes."

Paige glares at you. Glares. But she can’t back out now—not with Aaliyah eating this up, not with Jordan still listening.

So instead of snapping at you like you know she wants to, she tilts her head, eyes flashing.

"Oh, I’m cute?" she muses. "That’s funny, coming from the one who panicked and kissed me first."

Your smirk falters.

Aaliyah’s jaw drops. "Wait—what?"

Oh. Oh.

You forgot. You forgot that Paige fights fire with fire.

You force a casual shrug, even as your pulse spikes. "I had to shut Jordan up somehow."

"Uh-huh," Paige hums, gaze knowing.

Aaliyah looks between you two like she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t be seeing.

"You know," she says slowly, "this is really funny considering—"

Paige kicks her.

Aaliyah yells.

"What the fuck, P?" she groans, rubbing her shin.

"Nothing," Paige says too quickly, giving you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. "It’s nothing."

Nothing.

Right.

So why is she still gripping your hand like a lifeline?

Why does her pulse jump every time your thumb brushes hers?

Why does she look at you like she’s still remembering a different night—one where she was drunk, reckless, and kissing you like she meant it?

You don’t get to ask.

Because Jordan finally moves.

He sets his glass down, claps a hand on Aaliyah’s shoulder in passing, then turns to you and Paige with that easy, unreadable smirk.

"Congrats, you two," he says, voice smooth as ever. "Wish you nothing but the best."

He’s lying. You know he is.

But you still smile.

"Appreciate it, Hawkins," Paige says before you can.

She doesn’t look at him. She looks at you.

Like she’s daring you to say something.

Like she’s waiting to see if you’ll finally break.

__

You don’t break.

Not in front of Jordan. Not in front of Aaliyah. Not while every damn person in this room seems to be looking just a little too long, listening just a little too hard.

But the second Jordan walks away, the second Aaliyah turns to flag down another drink, you yank your hand from Paige’s grip like it burns.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss under your breath.

Paige barely reacts. She just tilts her head, feigning innocence. "What? You wanted to sell it. I sold it."

You stare at her.

Because that was not just selling it. That was something else—something sharper, something she threw right at your chest just to watch you stumble.

"You didn’t have to bring up—" You stop yourself. Swallow. Look around like maybe someone else can explain why she’s doing this.

Paige watches you. Her expression gives nothing away.

Then, softer, "Didn’t I?"

It hangs between you for too long.

And you hate that it’s her who looks away first.

"I need a drink," you mutter, already turning.

"Yeah, you do," Paige mumbles, following.

You don’t comment on that.

Because suddenly this whole thing feels less like a favor and more like a trap.

—

The bar is packed, but you shove your way through, Paige on your heels.

"Tequila," you say to the bartender.

"Make it two," Paige adds.

You don’t even argue. Maybe she outgrew her obsession with Dirty Shirleys. You just grip the edge of the counter, exhaling slowly as you try to make sense of this.

"So, what’s the plan?" Paige asks after a moment, arms crossed as she leans beside you.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how far are we taking this?" She gestures vaguely. "Are we just holding hands and blushing or am I supposed to dip you on the dance floor?"

You roll your eyes. "Jesus, P."

"No, really," she presses, and now there’s that edge again. "How convincing do you need me to be?"

The question makes your stomach twist.

Because you know she’s just pushing your buttons. You know this is just Paige being difficult.

But for a split second—just a breath—you can still feel the way she kissed you that night. The way her hands tangled in your hair. The way she pulled you in like she meant it, like she—

The bartender slams down your shots.

You take yours immediately, swallowing hard.

Paige watches.

Then she takes hers too, slow and measured, like she’s got all the time in the world.

She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, then raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," you mutter.

Because fuck her for being so good at this.

And fuck you for the way your pulse won’t settle.

The night stretches on.

Paige keeps to her word—playing the part well enough that people start murmuring about it.

A hand at your waist. A whisper at your ear. A casual brush of fingers down your arm.

It’s fake. It’s all fake.

But she’s looking at you like she’s waiting for you to crack.

And you hate that you just might.

__

You don’t crack.

Not when Paige’s hand lingers on your back as she leans in to say something.

Not when Aaliyah smirks knowingly every time she catches you two standing too close.

Not even when Jordan keeps throwing glances your way, eyes unreadable, like he’s picking apart the lie thread by thread.

You don’t crack.

But you come so damn close.

"You’re enjoying this too much," you mutter as Paige tugs you onto the dance floor.

She grins, all teeth and recklessness. "You’re the one who asked me to play pretend, babe."

You ignore the pet name.

Ignore the way your skin burns where her fingers ghost over your hip.

Ignore the fact that, for a second, just a second, it feels like you’re back in college. Like there’s no unfinished history, no unanswered questions, no drunken mistakes you still don’t understand.

Just you and her and the kind of heat that ruins things.

But you snap out of it when Paige spins you suddenly, pulling you flush against her.

"You’re pushing it," you grit out, ignoring the way the air shifts between you.

"You sure?" Paige tilts her head, pretending to think. "Because Jordan’s watching."

Your stomach twists.

You don’t have to look to know she’s right.

But it’s not just Jordan anymore.

Aaliyah’s watching too, eyes sharp with something unreadable. A few old teammates glance over, whispering. Even the bartender keeps sneaking glances.

And Paige sees it.

She sees it and smirks like she’s won something.

Like she’s waiting for you to flinch.

So you do the only thing you can.

You don’t flinch.

You move closer.

You let your hand drag down her arm, fingers brushing over her wrist before locking together.

You feel her inhale, just barely.

You smirk right back. "Your move, Bueckers."

Paige doesn’t pull away.

She doesn’t let go.

She just holds your gaze like she’s trying to figure something out—like she’s searching for the part of you that still remembers what it felt like when she kissed you that night.

And for the first time tonight, she doesn’t have a comeback.

—

"Alright, what the fuck is going on?"

Aaliyah’s voice cuts through the tension the second you step off the dance floor.

You turn, forcing your expression into something casual. "What do you mean?"

She snorts. "Don’t play dumb. You two are acting like you’re five seconds from eloping."

"It’s called being a good girlfriend," Paige says easily.

Aaliyah rolls her eyes. "Right. Because this isn’t at all the same energy as that night in college—"

Paige steps on her foot.

"Ow—bitch—"

"What night in college?" you ask, heart slamming against your ribs.

Aaliyah pauses, eyes flicking between you and Paige.

Paige looks murderous.

And suddenly, you’re dying to know.

"Li," Paige says warningly.

"Oh, no," you say, stepping closer. "She’s already started. Might as well finish."

Aaliyah hesitates. Then she smirks.

"You really never told her?" she asks Paige, eyes gleaming.

Paige clenches her jaw.

"Told me what?" you demand.

Silence.

Then Paige exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair.

"Not here," she mutters.

"Not here?" you echo, heat rising in your chest. "What the hell does that mean, Paige?"

Paige doesn’t answer.

She just grabs your wrist and tugs you away from the crowd before Aaliyah can dig herself a deeper grave.

You don’t fight it.

Not because you trust her.

But because you need to know.

—

The hallway is quieter, but not empty.

You don’t care.

Paige finally lets go of your wrist and you spin to face her, crossing your arms. "Talk."

She exhales, tilting her head back against the wall. "It’s nothing."

"Bullshit."

She huffs a laugh. "I forgot how stubborn you are."

"And I forgot how frustrating you are," you snap. "Paige, just tell me what the hell Aaliyah was talking about. What didn’t you tell me?"

She shifts her weight, biting her lip like she’s debating if this is worth admitting.

"That night," she says finally, voice quieter. "At the party."

Your stomach tightens.

"What about it?"

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she looks at you—really looks at you—like she’s picking her words carefully.

And that’s when you realize.

She’s been keeping something from you for years.

Your pulse spikes.

"Paige," you press. "Tell me."

She sighs. Runs a hand through her hair. Looks anywhere but at you.

"I wasn’t that drunk," she admits.

Silence.

The kind that hurts.

The kind that knocks the wind out of you.

"What?" you whisper.

She exhales slowly. "I wasn’t that drunk. That night. When I kissed you."

You blink. Your brain stutters, replays her words over and over like they don’t make sense.

Because they don’t make sense.

Because for years—years—you let yourself believe it was a mistake. That she was just wasted, reckless, caught up in the moment.

But now—

"You’re lying," you say, shaking your head. "You have to be lying."

She looks at you then, and something in her gaze makes your stomach drop.

"I’m not."

Your breath shudders.

Because if she wasn’t that drunk—if she knew what she was doing—then that means—

"You kissed me sober?" Your voice is barely there.

Paige swallows.

"Sober enough."

A bitter laugh escapes you. "Wow."

She winces. "Look—"

"No. You look," you cut in, stepping closer. "Do you know what that did to me, Paige? Do you know how many times I replayed that night, trying to figure out what it meant?"

"I—"

"And then you just acted like it never happened."

She flinches. "I know."

"Do you?" you press, voice sharp. "Because it sure as hell didn’t seem like it when you—"

"I know," she snaps, running a hand down her face. "Why do you think I stayed away?"

That shuts you up.

She stayed away.

She chose to stay away.

Your chest tightens.

"So that’s it?" you ask, voice hollow. "You kissed me, regretted it, and thought avoiding me was the answer?"

She exhales, looking exhausted. "I didn’t regret kissing you."

Your breath catches.

She looks at you then—really looks at you—and you feel like you might drown under the weight of it.

"I regretted what came after," she says.

"What came after?" Your voice is sharp, demanding, but you’re barely keeping it together.

Paige shifts, running a hand through her hair like she hates this—like she hates that she’s saying anything at all.

"Everything," she mutters.

"Be specific, Bueckers."

She exhales sharply, looking away.

"I kissed you, and it—" She stops. Swallows. Then shakes her head. "It meant something. And that scared the shit out of me."

Your heart slams against your ribs.

"You don’t get to say that now," you whisper.

She laughs—bitter and humorless. "Yeah? Well, I am."

You stare at her, trying to make sense of this, trying to force the pieces to fit when they never did before.

"You ignored me," you say, voice unsteady. "You kissed me, realized it meant something, and instead of talking to me, you disappeared."

Paige clenches her jaw, eyes flashing. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Anything but that!"

"I wasn’t ready!" she snaps, frustration bleeding into every syllable. "I—" She stops herself again, biting her lip, breathing hard like she’s fighting every instinct to keep this locked away.

"You weren’t ready?" you echo, stunned. "And you think I was? You think I didn’t spend months wondering what the fuck I did wrong?"

Paige exhales, pressing her fingers to her temples. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

"Then why did you leave me?"

Silence.

And that’s the real question, isn’t it?

Because she did leave.

She chose to put distance between you.

And you never got to ask why.

Paige hesitates.

Then—so quiet you almost don’t hear it:

"Because I wanted you too much."

Your stomach drops.

Paige looks at you, eyes guarded but raw.

"I wanted you, and I knew I couldn't have you, so I—" She swallows. "I did the only thing I knew how to do. I ran."

You feel like the ground has been yanked from under you.

Because this is the first time she’s admitted it.

That she wanted you.

That she felt something.

And all at once, the years of distance, the unfinished tension, the unspoken words— It all makes sense.

Your throat tightens.

"Paige."

Her name feels like something fragile in your mouth.

She shakes her head, like she already regrets saying anything at all.

"Forget it," she mutters.

"Forget it?" you echo, stunned. "Paige, you can’t just drop that on me and expect me to—"

"I have to," she says, voice strained.

Your chest aches.

Because you see it now.

She’s still scared.

Still running.

"You have to?" you repeat, voice shaking with something too sharp to swallow. "You have to forget it?"

Paige exhales hard, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes like she can physically push the words back in. "This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything."

"Yeah?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Because then you’d actually have to deal with it?"

Her jaw clenches. "Because it doesn’t change anything."

You take a step closer. She doesn’t move away.

"It changes everything," you say, voice lower now, rougher.

She shakes her head. "No, it doesn’t."

"Paige—"

"You have a whole ex-boyfriend in that room," she interrupts, voice tight, like she’s trying to push you away with words alone. "We haven’t talked about this for years. And I—" She stops herself, shaking her head. "I can’t do this right now."

"Right. Of course," you snap. "Because that’s what you do, right? You can’t do this, so you just don’t."

She flinches.

Good.

Because she’s not the only one who gets to feel something tonight.

"You wanted me," you say, making sure the words land. "And instead of doing something about it, instead of talking to me, you just—" You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "You ran."

Paige stares at you, something breaking in her gaze. "You think I don’t know that?"

"Then why?"

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating silence.

Her hands clench into fists. Her throat works around words she won’t say.

And then—

"Because if I let myself have you, I don’t think I’d ever be able to let go."

The words hit you like a fist to the ribs.

Because that—that—is the most honest thing she’s ever said to you.

Your breath shudders. "Paige—"

"Don’t," she whispers.

She looks at you like she’s barely holding herself together.

Like if you say one more word, she’ll break.

And maybe that’s what you want.

Maybe you want her to crack the way she’s cracked you open.

Maybe you want her to finally stop running.

Your voice is quieter when you say, "If you didn’t want to let go, then why did you?"

Paige looks at you like she’s standing on the edge of something, like if she steps forward, she’ll lose control of everything she’s tried so hard to hold back.

You should let it go.

You should walk away.

But you can’t.

She exhales sharply, hands braced on her hips, staring at the floor like she can find the answer there instead of in you.

For a second, you think she won’t respond.

And then—

"Because I didn’t think I could have you."

Something shifts.

Your stomach tightens. "What?"

She shakes her head like she hates saying this out loud. "You had a boyfriend."

The words hit you like a slap to the face.

"What does—" you start, but Paige cuts you off.

"I kissed you, and for one second, I thought—" She stops, swallows. "I hoped it meant something to you. But then I remembered who you were dating, and I—" She exhales sharply. "I didn’t know if you even could feel the same way about me."

Your heart pounds in your chest.

"So you ran?" you whisper.

She looks at you, eyes burning.

"I ran because it hurt," she admits. "Because if I stayed—if I let myself want you—it would’ve destroyed me if you never wanted me back."

The air feels too thick, the walls too close.

Because this—this changes everything.

"Paige."

Her name barely leaves your lips before she’s shaking her head.

"Don’t," she whispers, voice cracking. "Because if you say something right now, I might actually believe you."

Your chest aches.

"What if I want you to?"

Her breath catches.

Paige stares at you like she didn’t hear you right.

Like she can’t have heard you right.

Her breath is uneven, her hands flexing at her sides like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

"What?" she says, barely above a whisper.

You swallow hard. You can’t take it back now.

"What if I want you to believe me?"

Her throat works around a response, but nothing comes out. She just shakes her head, taking a step back.

Not running.

Not yet.

But close.

"Don’t do this," she mutters.

"Do what?" you push.

"Say things you don’t mean."

Your jaw tightens. "You really think I don’t mean it?"

She exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. "I don’t know, alright?" She looks up, frustrated, eyes burning into yours. "You never—I never—" She stops herself, dragging a hand through her hair. "I spent years convincing myself that I didn’t have a chance with you. That I was stupid for wanting something that was never even an option."

You let out a bitter laugh. "And whose fault was that?"

Paige blinks, caught off guard.

"You never asked me, Paige," you say, voice steadier now, sharper. "You never asked if I wanted you back. You just assumed I didn't."

Her jaw clenches. "You had a boyfriend."

You take a deep breath.

"And do you even know why we broke up?"

Paige stills.

You let that sit for a second before continuing, voice quieter now. "Jordan doesn’t even know. That’s why he’s still so hung up on me—because even he doesn’t understand."

Her brows furrow slightly, like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle she didn’t know existed.

"I broke up with him a week after that kiss," you admit. "After thinking about it day and night until I wasn’t even sure of myself anymore."

Paige stares at you, breath caught in her throat.

She doesn’t say anything.

Because she can’t.

Because now she knows.

Because now she realizes she spent years running from something that was never chasing her in the first place—because it was standing still, waiting for her.

The air between you is suffocating.

You should say something else, push further, make her admit something, anything.

But suddenly, a door swings open down the hall, and the sound of voices spills into the space between you.

The moment shatters.

Paige takes a step back. Her jaw locks into place, her hands finding the pockets of her blazer like she’s holding herself together with sheer force of will.

And just like that, it’s over.

Not forever.

Not really.

But for tonight.

She clears her throat. "We should go back inside."

You hesitate, wanting to hold on to whatever this just was.

But you don’t.

You nod.

And you follow her back into the noise, into the crowd— Into whatever comes next.

__

The rest of the night is a blur.

You and Paige return to the party, slipping back into the noise and conversation like nothing happened.

Like the air between you isn’t charged with something heavy and unspoken.

But it is.

You feel it every time Paige glances your way, every time your arms brush when you stand too close, every time her jaw clenches like she’s biting down words she won’t let out.

Aaliyah notices.

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes flick between the two of you with something close to suspicion.

Jordan, on the other hand, doesn’t notice anything. He’s too busy trying to find excuses to talk to you, to hover near you, to remind you of what you once had.

Paige watches from across the room, fingers tight around her drink, expression unreadable.

You wonder if she’s thinking about what you said.

You wonder if she’s thinking about the kiss, about the fact that you broke up with Jordan because of her.

You wonder if she regrets running.

Or if she still wants to.

By the time the night winds down, you’re exhausted—not just from the party, but from everything else.

From the weight of knowing.

From the way Paige hasn’t said a word about it since.

She’s still standing near the bar when you grab your coat.

You hesitate.

She looks at you.

Something flickers in her gaze—something raw, something real.

For a second, you think she’s going to say something.

For a second, you hope she will.

But then Aaliyah calls her name, and just like that, the moment is gone.

You leave without saying goodbye.

[teddybeartoji]

彡 ALL OVER YOU

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; established relationship, fluffy and sappy but also a bit suggestive (they're smooching and grinding), satoru loves praise what's new, shoutout to majid jordan for the title<3 wc: 1.7k

satoru can't stop smiling, his heart won't stop racing – you're all over him and he's never felt more giddy.

your hips grind into his slowly but surely, your hands cradling his jaw and the back of his neck; your nails scrape against his undercut as you drag your lips over his pulse point.

i love you.

butterflies dance in his stomach and he let's out a shaky laugh. his whole body feels as if it's on fire – dark pink blooms all across his chest, reaching up his neck where your hot breath only ignites it even more. his cheeks, his lips, his nose, the tips of his ears; but you're no better. warmth spreads from your fingertips and the palms of your hands, your own chest as you rub against him. the fire crackles every time your boyfriend let's out a content whine, completely blissed out from the love you're drowning him with.

your thighs burn, too. squeezing them around his, you rock yourself back and forth, feeling the growing bulge in his pants. but there's no rush – you both want it, desperately so, but you're taking your time today.

today, you are greedy. you are insatiable; your desire lies in making satoru feel good. you want to praise him, to fill his head with the sweetest words, to fill his heart with your overbearing love. it's his day. and he's not complaining.

pulling back a little, you settle right on top of his aching, clothed cock to you admire him. "you're s'pretty, baby."

it comes out like a coo; smooth and sticky – your voice is the perfect trap for him. you ruffle his hair with a hungry grin, the messy white strands falling in front of his eyes as his own bashful smile stretches wider and wider. it feels like heaven – to be in this moment with you. it's exciting, it's fun; you're humping like a couple of teenagers but despite the undeniable horny air around you – it's a hundred times more intimate than it would seem.

"yeah?"

just a little cocky, exactly the way you like it – he wants your praise, he wants it all and you will give it to him without a second thought. no teases, no witty remarks; you love him and you will show him so.

fingers carding through his hair, you push them away again so you can see him better. his forehead, the apples of his cheeks. his scars and his freckles. his dimples. he looks beautiful. "yeah."

your eyes are softer than ever and there's no denying your affection for him. so satoru does the only thing he can, and it's to stare back at you with the exact same expression. it's hard not to mirror you when he feels like he's about to burst. in more than one way.

leaning closer again, satoru feels your warm lips against his forehead. his hands slip under your shirt, eager to really feel you; slender fingers glide over your lower back, making goosebumps rise on your skin. he circles around your middle, unable to stay still while you press another kiss to one of his eyebrows.

and another to his closed eye. and another right under the other eye. his manicured nails dig into you and they form crescent moons, the prettiest reminders of his loving touch for you to admire later. he guides you down a little, hissing when you push your body more against him, your back arching in the process.

a kiss to his nose, to the scar the left side of his face and then to another up above it. to the corner of his lips. his smile widens again, there's no escaping it. yours does the same as you continue teasing him by not giving him a proper kiss. you press onr to the side of his nose, one to another scar. satoru gives your hips a squeeze, a quiet giggle escaping him as he blindly chases your lips.

"you're s'good to me, you know."

that catches him a bit off-guard, but you don't give him a moment to question it, finally placing your lips to his.

fireworks. the taste of candy, of something sweet.

you fit together like you're meant to.

you hold his jaw as if he's about to slip away while his arms go to snake around your waist again. closer, closer, closer. your tongues meet in the middle, smacking against each other as you prepare to devour one another. there isn't even an inch between you, your bodies stuck together like glue. hushed whimpers tumble from satoru's lips the more you grind on his bulge; you know he's making a mess in his pants already. he never holds anything back and you love that about him – he isn't afraid to show you how much he loves you, how hot and bothered you make him.

a louder one breaks through and your chest swells with pride. you use the opportunity to tilt his head back, forcing him to rest it against the head rest as you nip at his jaw. the man below you shivers and his hips buck up into yours on their own accord.

"my handsome boy." a trail of saliva coats his neck as you move from one side to another. "mine all mine."

oh, and how he flourishes under you. adam's apple bobbing, his eyes screw themselves shut as he takes in everything you're giving him. his cheeks hurt from smiling, he still hasn't stopped. he's never been happier.

he's being worshipped in a way he's never been before and for the first time in his life, he's accepting it. he will edge himself until the term 'blue balls' truly resonates if that means you will keep pampering him like you're doing right now. praise after praise, kiss after kiss. a tug of the hips, marks on your skin. wanton moans and wandering hands. this is what he deserves.

you bite down onto his earlobe ever so gently and earn a deep hum. he's so fucking warm, it feels like he's about to overheat but he's not complaining. the pink looks good on him anyway.

"satoru..." you purr directly into his ear and laugh quietly when he squirms.

"mm?"

"look at me."

now wasting even a second, his crystalline eyes crack open and look for you. wrong move – like a minx, like a little devil you sit on top of him, your lips wet with your own saliva and the taste of him, staring at him with keen eyes almost as if you're going to eat him whole. he gulps at the sight and his fingers sink deeper into your skin.

"you're everything to me."

for the second time you've caught him off-guard. he expected something more along the lines of 'you're the best' or 'you're so funny' or 'you're so cute'. and he would've welcomed those compliments with open arms, but now you're here tugging at his heart strings while he's sitting hard as a rock below you. he can't take it, he might actually die.

satoru let's out a broken groan and then tries to hide his face behind his hand at the slight embarrassment that creeps up his throat. but it's very fucking difficult to do so when the sound of your laughter reaches his ears. your fingers curl around his own as you try to tear them away from his face.

"don't hide from me, what the fuck." more chuckles. you're killing him.

"m'not hiding, i was just.. uh.. luring you to me again."

"right, right..." when you finally manage to intertwine your fingers with his, you press another haste kiss to his lips. "as if i'm actually going anywhere, stupid."

it's something to see a person smile and it's something to make them do it, but to feel it? to truly feel it against you – it's something truly special. there's no way to describe it and satoru is more than grateful for you and the fact that he can experience this type of thing when he thought he never would.

"jus' wanted to see how red you are..."

...

he gasps into your mouth and pinches your side, clasping his hands around you before you can even try to escape his wrath. his eyes meet yours and you watch the corners of his mouth twitch – you know what's coming.

bursts of laughter fill your shared apartment as satoru's fingers dance on your sides, the tickling touch making you squirm and twitch on his lap. his smile reaches behind his ears again as he looks at you. he's your everything? him? satoru gojo?

he doesn't know what to do with that information. it's a little overwhelming, but he refuses to shut down at the newly found emotions that are searing inside his ribcage. you're here and you love him. you're here and you're giving him his all. he's your everything.

you're his everything.

he curses at himself in his head for not being more original but he makes a promise to show his appreciation to you through actions. he will buy you even more flowers, he's going to kiss you more, he's going to hug you more. he's going to spoil you more. he's going to thank you more. he's going to love you more.

(as if that's even possible.)

after giving his shoulder a playful shove, you settle down onto his lap calmly as you try to catch your breath. he twitches in his pants and averts his gaze in the most dramatic way possible and you don't even try to hold back a cackle.

"you're dumb."

"wha– " his eyes flick back to yours in an instant. "what happened to all the sexy and super loving words, hm?"

pawing at his neck, you pull him close so your noses are brushing together. "don't worry, you're my stupid, okay? my pretty boy; my sun, my moon, my stars. my angel, my little flower."

hearts swim in his eyes as you stare at him at the most unflattering angle of all times. it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter at all.

his hands rest on your waist, his gaze on yours. soft smiles and dimples – it's so easy with him. it's easy to love him.

you don't even have to think about the next words. they form on the back of your tongue, the letter bounce around in your mouth like a piece of bubblegum. so sweet, just like him.

"i love you."

[witherby]

Mother Hen Hal skit perhaps...? Since you said you are up for writing anything, can i recommend some silly mother hen Hal? :3/nf/silly

Y'know what hell yeah. Hal is Mom, and that's canon now.

Also, it doesn't really make sense for me to use the infant gif for Flittermouse when they inevitably get older. Does this one work for you guys? Let me know. I might fiddle around until I find something suitable.

The Littlest Wayne: Mother Hen

Masterlist is Here!

"Ah-ah! Put it down."

You freeze, one hand curled around the handle of the popsicle you were trying to sneak before dinner.

"I'm not a motion sensor, kid. I can still see you if you're standing still. Put. It. Down. If you want a snack then there's a fruit bowl on the counter."

You huff and put the popsicle back in the freezer, stomping over to the bowl to snatch an orange. "Fine."

"What was that?"

You grimace. "Yes, mama."

Hal narrows his eyes at you and holds out his hand. You approach him from where he's leaning against the doorway and hand the orange over, and he starts to peel it for you.

"Kids these days, gettin' sassier and sassier. Y'know when I was young my dad would pop me on the mouth for backtalk."

"Thank goodness you're not your dad," you say, taking it back and stepping into his shadow to let it pull you into the dark. "Thanks, mama."

"Uh huh," he sighs, but his expression is fond as he watches you disappear. He shakes his head and grabs a banana for himself. "Goofy kid. They should be grateful I found 'em in the act and not Alfred."

--

"Disarm that, please."

Jason glances up at Hal from where he's sitting on his bed, currently taking inventory of his ammo and checking the condition of his guns.

"Uh, 'scuse me?"

"You know your dad's rule. No guns in the house. If you wanna keep it upstairs, you've gotta disassemble it."

"Oh," Jason says, scoffing, "what, like I'm gonna suit up and shoot up the place? I'm an asshole, but I'm not that big an asshole."

"Everyone trusts you, Jaybird," Hal says, "but even the best-maintained guns can misfire. A warped firing pin here, too much gunpowder in a bullet there, a hair trigger —"

"You think I'm running around with shitty equipment like an amateur, Jordan?" Jason sneers and picks up one of his pistols, aiming it at Hal's head. It doesn't have any bullets in it, but fear factor is half of his job. "You think this could go off willy-nilly 'cause I dunno how to take care of my toys? Huh? Just because you're fucking Bruce doesn't mean you get to call any shots in this house —"

A green hammer materializes faster than Jason can blink and smacks the gun from his hand. He hisses flexes his fingers, glaring, only lean back when he suddenly finds Hal glaring down at him less than a foot away from the edge of the bed.

"I'm not playing this game with you, Jason Todd-Wayne," he says. The boy actually feels sweat pooling on the back of his neck. "I have to go pick your brother up from school, and when I come back these guns are either going to be in the cave, or disassembled in your bedroom."

"...yes, ma," Jason mumbles. Hal nods once, gives him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, and leaves the room.

--

Tim doesn't glance up when he hears footsteps descending the cave. He keeps scrolling through the security footage from the most recent bank heist on the batcomputer, trying and failing to figure out exactly what the hell Two-Face would want with that many uncut diamonds. Money tends to play very little factor in his scheme of the week, so why —

"Bed time."

"Crime never sleeps," Tim mumbles, rubbing his burning eyes and reaching for the can of Monster on the desk. Another hand swipes it away first, and he scowls. "I'll head up in, like, an hour." He squints when he thinks he sees a partial blueprint sticking out of Two-Face's pocket. "Like two hours."

"Nuh-uh. The one and only time I fell for that, you stayed awake for another fifty hours before we caught onto you. No more computer tonight."

"And I cracked that case fifty hours faster than I would've if I'd slept."

Hal scruffs Tim, hoisting him into the air by the back of his shirt and turning to go back up the staircase.

"Hal! Okay, I'm serious this time, twenty minutes so I can mark my place and —"

"Bed time," Hal hisses. "It is three in the morning and I have to get up at five. Do not test my patience right now."

"Yes, mom," Tim immediately says, eyes wide. He wants to scan that blueprint, but he wants to avoid getting on a sleep-deprived Hal's bad side even more. "Bed time."

Hal nods and carts him off to his room, tucking Tim in and giving him a pointed goodnight before leaving.

--

Dick knows better than to fight Hal when he puts his foot down for something. Bruce he can gradually wheedle into submission, especially if he calls him Dad and gives him big puppy eyes, but Hal is a demon and seemingly immune to all forms of sucking up.

So when he slips out of his window and into the garden, trying to sneak away to go back to Blüdhaven, he runs into Hal and immediately turns back around.

"Smart move. Get back in bed and I'll have Alfred make sure you didn't pop your stitches crawling down the wall like an idiot just now."

"Yes, mum. Sorry, mum."

--

"Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne!"

"Oh, fuck."

Nothing but ice-cold dread zips up and down that boy's spine. He darts out of his room and down the stairs, running from room to room until he finds Hal standing in the vestibule with blood at his feet and a nasty snake bite on his arm. The culprit is trapped in a constructed box several feet away.

"Is it venomous." Hal asks, tone flat.

"No, Mother," Damian says, standing at attention directly in front of him. He keeps his hands in his pockets to stop them from trembling.

"Is there more than one."

"No, Mother."

"Will you have it re-homed by tomorrow."

"Yes, Mother."

"Are you going to start asking for permission before bringing more animals home."

"..."

"Damian."

"Yes, Mother."

Hal steps forward with his good hand and gently cups Damian's cheek.

"Do you understand why I'm upset?" He asks, gentler. Damian nods. "Okay. All I'll say is that I'm glad it was me this happened to, and not any of your siblings. I think you really would've frightened Mouse if they got bit."

Damian's eyes widen briefly, not having considered such a consequence. He stiffens and avoids eye contact.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. Hal opens his arms and Damian goes in easily for the offered hug. "I'll get rid of Piper tonight."

"Good. I'm sorry you can't keep her, pal, but it's too dangerous to let it roam the grounds like that. Plus, this bite really smarts. If you're hell-bent on a snake, maybe you can get a small one in, like, a month for your birthday. Real small. Like a hog-nose. Or a corn snake."

"Fine," Damian mumbles, but the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. "I'll fetch the first aid kit for you."

"Thanks, 'ppreciate it."

--

"Oh, dearest husband of mine."

Bruce maintains a front of stoic calm, unmoving and unaffected by the saccharine pitch of Hal's voice. He continues stitching himself up in the batcave's med room and doesn't look up when a pair of green boots enters his periphery.

"Can you answer a question for me?"

"Yeah, shoot," Bruce says, proud that his voice didn't waver.

"What's the thermal rating on the latest iteration of your suit?"

Bruce glances at the jar of burn cream he hasn't cracked open yet to treat the massive wound on his side. A bead of sweat forms on his temple.

"It's —"

"Is it high enough to withstand a condensed, point-blank blast directly from the sun?"

He doesn't respond. Bruce finishes his stitch job and ties it off, then reaches over for the jar. Hal snatches it.

"Answer the question, Wayne."

Bruce swallows thickly. "No. It's not thermally rated high enough to withstand a condensed blast as powerful as the sun, obviously."

"Obvi — oh. Okay, it was obvious. I'm glad it was obvious. That's fantastic. I just have a follow-up question, then."

The jar creaks in Hal's grip. His free hand is clenched in a tight fist.

"If you knew your suit wasn't sturdy enough to take a blast like that, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU STEP IN FRONT OF IT!?"

Bruce clears his throat. "It was going to hit you, and you weren't watching your six."

"I AM ENCASED IN A MAGIC GLOWING SUIT MADE OF WILLPOWER, BRUCE. I WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE. YOU'RE RUNNING AROUND IN LEATHER AND KEVLAR."

Bruce slides off the table, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. A pair of green arms hook him under his armpits and heave him back onto it with a not-so-gentle thud, and he winces when it aggravates his injury. "Hal, stop shouting. I already have Tinnitus and this isn't helping."

"Oh, your poor ears," Hal coos, stepping between Bruce's legs. He sets the jar down and gingerly cups Bruce's ears, pouting. "I'll speak softly so I don't cause you further pain. Y'know, like the massive fucking burn in your side from GETTING BLASTED BY A SUN RAY."

"I'm not going to apologize!"

Hal snaps his mouth shut, glaring at Bruce. "What."

"I'm not going to apologize for protecting you." Bruce's hands cover Hal's. He brings them down to his lap, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tightly. "It's very statistically probable I'm going to do it again, as a matter of fact. And I'll keep doing it as long as I think you need to be protected."

He thumbs over the golden band on Hal's left hand, and the edge of the Green Lantern ring on his right.

"Because that's what I promised you when we got married. That as long as I have a body that moves, and lungs that breathe air, and a mind that can think, I will move and breathe and think in whatever way guarantees your health and happiness."

"Collecting battle scars like bottle pops doesn't make me happy, Bruce," Hal murmurs. "One day I'm gonna check my six and find you on the ground like I did today, and one day you're not gonna get back up again."

"That's the risk we take every time we suit up," Bruce sighs. "People in our line of work seldom make it to retirement age, love."

Hal lifts his hands to cup the back of Bruce's head and draw him into a kiss. There's a subtle tremble in his body that Bruce does his best to soothe with pliant lips and a skilled tongue.

"I'm going to help you with the burn," Hal mumbles against his lips, "then we're going upstairs for movie night, and I'm picking this time. And by then, maybe I'll have decided if you get to sleep in our bed or on the couch tonight."

"Yes, mom," Bruce mutters back, grinning. He hisses when Hal flicks his wound. "Sorry."

[starboye]

starring: jordan powell x male reader x vinnie hacker

request: can i get a jordan powell x male reader x vinnie hacker smut fic i CRAVE more vinnie hacker smut

warnings: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, handjod, making out

when you went out to have some fun at a bar you didnt expect to end up back at a hotel room getting fucked by two guys you barely met but i mean are we really against that (i know you aren't) but you really couldn't complain with such good dick fucking you right now.

i think the guys kissing you was named jordan and the other one fucking you was vinnie, and god was he fucking you good while you were slumped in the arms of jordan who was making out with you, his tongue invading your mouth and his teeth casually nipping at your bottom lip every now and then.

"good boy" jordan whispered in your ear as your head drooped onto his shoulder, vinnies hands snaking up to lift your face off jordans shoulder "mm mm we wanna hear those pretty moans some more baby" he drawls deepening his thrusts into your making you whimper while your hands tighten around jordan arms.

looking up at him with watery eyes from the hours of fucking, feeling so tired but wanting more and more just for him to smile back at you "y'know you look so good all desperate for some cock" he mutters before going back to making out with you, they both enjoyed the sight, vinnie loved seeing you lazily making out with jordan and jordan loved seeing you take vinnies cock.

"yeah just a little more" vinnie said from behind you as he fucked you a little harder, his grip tightening before he came in you, creaming your hole for like the 3rd time tonight, pulling out of you and switching with jordan who slipped into your loose hole easily "did you miss this face" vinnie asked taking jordan place in front of you.

as much as you wanted to make a snarky remark you did in fact like looking at his pretty face but it looked better when he was destroying you hole and before you could answer he was quick to kiss you down your neck, sliding his hand down your back to arch it more, giving him the perfect view of your ass getting fucked.

"keep it just like that mhm" he lowly ordered nipping at your neck making you mewl a little, jordan ran his hands down the insides of your thighs, inching closer and closer to your sensitive cock after hours of cumming "ngh please no" you whine making both of them chuckle before jordan leans over your shoulder "what can't cum anymore" he teases and you shyly nod your head.

"well i think you got one more in you dont you think so vin" he asks "id say he has about three more in him" vinnie answers slipping his hands down to fondle your balls a little snickering at how you moan into the crook of his neck more and more as jordan slowly strokes your aching cock.

vin leans back up to kiss you, quickly making you go quiet as all the pleasure worked your body more and more, hips bucking your ass back onto jordans hips a little more "so slutty huh" jordan says slapping your ass causing you to moan into vins mouth making his cock jump a little.

"c'mon just one more and were done okay" jordan coos next to your ear as his fist tightens around your length and your hole tightens around his cock "yeah just one more for us okay baby boy" vinnie adds holding your face to look at him before your cumming onto the soaked sheets, jordans load spurting into your ass not to soon after.

"good boy" vinnie whispers kissing you while jordan comes down from his high and you collapse onto the bed and soon fall asleep "i like this one" jordan says admiring your sleeping figure "y'think he'd come live with us" vinnie asks.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, non - con, manhandling, religious subtext (it's sydney)

Sydney has never felt this way before. He doesn't know the name of that feeling, the warmth that fills his chest and tightens his throat and reddens his cheeks as you sit before him at the library counter. He can't explain the pulse in his loins and the sweat that sticks to his back when you lean in to ask him something and your shirt opens up slightly, revealing such soft, mesmerizing skin. His hands start to itch and his mouth waters and he feels almost thirsty - but water never seems to quench whatever it is he's deprived of.

He wants to ask someone - maybe brother Jordan or his father, but something deep within him, some basic instinct, rings a bell, a reminder that there is nothing pure or holy about the feelings he harbors towards you. He knows love. He's read about it - he knows he loves God, he loves his church, his friends, his books. He knows love is gentle. Love is caring and tender and quiet, love is giving.

But when it comes to you, he only wants to take. He wants to bite your cheeks when you smile, to squeeze you in his arms until he hears your fragile bones crack. He wants to rip off your skin and crawl in your shell - to see your insides, to admire every inch of your flesh for his own sick satisfaction. He even keeps a box of everything you've ever lost - small trinkets, cheap bracelets, ripped socks, locks of hair... Anything to feel closer to you.

And yet Sydney tries to fight his urges - he averts eyes when you bend to pick something and pretends not to notice your bare legs in those mini skirts, the way the school swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly, or how your lips part when you bite down on a pencil. Or the marks of you teeth on the yellow wood, your smugded lipstick as you leave the bathroom, your hands on his shoulder with your nails digging in—

Sydney is a man of God, but you make him question his faith. In the sunlight everything is brighter, but when night comes, so do the nightmares. His pillow becomes softer, warmer - it lingers with the scent of your hair and he can't help imagining you laying next to him with an adoring smile on those luscious lips of yours. And as fatigue spreads over his tired body, his prayers long forgotten, the same dream haunts him - the one he's had since the day he first saw you.

You're no longer laying next to him - you're under him instead. Your hair isn't spread out angelically, but twisted and disheveled, wrapped around his fist. He's towering over you, tilting your chin up - holding you so tightly against his body you can't move an inch. Your eyes are red and swollen, lips bruised and bitten bloody - and you're trembling like an injured animal. You look so small, so pathetically adorable, so very naked and afraid, and splayed out like a feast in front of him, and he just devours you like the predator he knows he is.

You whine something incomprehensible along the lines of a plea, begging to be let go - but all your words become white noise to Sydney. His hands circle your throat painfully and only a few broken moans escape before you shut up completely. The man keeps thrusting into you without a sense of shame, egged on by the deep, inaudible sobs that shake your body to its core. The voice inside his head chants "mine, mine, mine" like a spell, like a curse that binds you both for all eternity.

Sydney always wakes up in cold sweat, unable to catch his breath. It's terrifying, seeing his darkest desires play out over and over each night. And as he tries to catch his breath and forget the taste of your neck on his tongue, there is one thought he never seems to fully rid himself of. How long until dreams are not enough to feed the monster inside of him?

How long until it all becomes reality?

[wonderjanga]

Ships 🚢

Flash, Superman, Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), and Captain Marvel get invited to a little show. Marvel didn’t really want to go but GL and Flash convinced him with the promise of food after. Supes came because he thought it would be a great team bonding activity (he wants to hang out with his friends). By the way, the order they’re listed is how they’re sitting from left to right. Now, if any of them are being honest, none of them had a single clue what they were going to be doing on the show. They didn’t realize this until the host gave them tablets opened on Ao3 and told them they would be looking at their ships with other heroes.

Flash: “Why do I have so many with Marvel?” *scrolling through their tag on the tablet*

Marvel: “I think it’s because we both have lightning bolts.”

Flash: “Cap, that does not make it better.” *still sounds a little horrified*

GL: “I thought you had a girlfriend?”

Flash: “I have a wife!”

or

GL: “Why do you have so many with Spooky?” *leaning over to look at Clark’s tablet*

Marvel: *floats over to see*

Flash: *also leaned over to look at Clark’s tablet* “Bondage kink as a tag is insane.”

Supes: “WHAT. WHERE DO YOU SEE THAT??” *frantically scanning the tags of a story*

Flash: “That one.” *points to a different story*

Supes: “Oh my god.” *covers mouth, reading all the heinous tags on that post* “Oh my god.”

Flash, GL, and Marvel: *exchanging glances of concern*

or

Marvel: *scrolling his tag with GL* “Why do I have so many with Lantern?” *pauses to hold back a laugh* “Is this because of that time I had to carry you down when your ring lost charge?”

GL: *also scrolling their tag* “It better not be because of that.”

Marvel: “Or wait, do you think it’s because- wait can I tell them that?”

GL: “Tell them what?”

Marvel: *leans over to whisper in Hal’s ear*

GL: *mortified face* “Absolutely not.”

Supes: *thousand yard stare because he can hear them*

I’ll let you guys decide what he whispered to Hal. Please, pretty please tell me your suspicions. I love reading comments and a lot of you are really funny!

Marvel: “Wow. There’s a lot of Mary and Junior…” *sounds agitated*

Flash: “They aren’t dating?” *is joking*

He gave him the most judgmental side eye. It was almost as good as this.

I was inspired by this when I saw a fic that had a Clark and Billy ship tag. After being momentarily baffled and disgusted, I got the idea for this. I honestly didn’t think those were actual fics for some reason. I just thought y’all maybe saw it on deviantart in like 2013 and still talk about how disgusting it is.

[lnfours]

“Person A taking Person B home after they fell asleep at a friends house.“ 🥹🩵🥹 definitely picturing the reader falling asleep at max f’s house and Lando carrying her home

stop because i can so see this happening 🥹

jordan’s birthday sleepover!

you hadn’t meant to fall asleep during the movie, but you were so comfortable. being cuddled up into his side, his body heat keeping you warm under the blanket pietra had given you earlier. add in the fact that your boyfriend was genuinely just the most comfortable pillow ever, it was bound to happen.

you had a long week, between work and just life in general, it had been tiring. you thought you would be able to handle a simple movie night, however, you were so wrong. the minute max turned down the lights and within the first half hour of the movie, you were out like a light.

lando smiled softly down at your sleeping frame when he realized you weren’t talking about the movie with them, that you hadn’t reacted to anything playing in front of you like you usually did. he brushed the fallen hair from your face, pulling you a little closer as you slept peacefully. your face was squished against his chest in the cutest way. how was he supposed to disturb you?

when the credits rolled and the lights came back on, max’s voice was quiet as he questioned your state, “was she asleep the whole time?”

lando nodded, gently playing with your hair, “just about,”

max nodded and pietra audibly ‘aw’ed at the fact that their friend was so in love. how he gently moved your limbs, your face nuzzling into his neck as he situated himself to pick you up.

“need some help with the doors?”

“please,” lando said, carrying you bridal style. he smiled at the blonde girl on the couch, “goodnight, p.”

“goodnight,” she smiled, “get home safe.”

max opened the front door, “where’re your keys, mate?”

“left pocket,” lando said, turning to let his best friend fish the keys for the mclaren from the pocket of his sweatpants, “can you unlock it and get the door? i’ve got her,”

his best friend nodded, opening the door as he situated you in the passenger seat. you hummed softly, leaning against the window once he got your seatbelt on, ready to fall back to sleep.

he bid a goodnight and a thanks to max for having the two of you before climbing into the car himself. he turned the volume down on the radio so it wasn’t loud enough to wake you, taking occasional glances your way. he couldn’t help it. you looked so pretty, curled up in the passenger side of his car while you slept.

when he pulled into the driveway, you stirred awake as he leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt, “how long have i been asleep?”

“a few hours,” his voice was soft, “didn’t even make it through the first half of the movie.”

he chuckled softly as you pressed a hand to your forehead, your giggle sounding through the car, “i’m sorry,”

“nothing to apologize for, baby,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly, “let’s get inside and go to bed, yeah?”

with a simple nod you followed him inside the house, kicking your shoes off and changing into one of his t-shirts before climbing into bed next to him. the minute your head rested on his chest, you knew it’d be only a few more minutes until you were back to sleep.

[sosasturns]

shoota!chris ACTIN HARD

…IN WHICH CHRIS GETS IN A FIGHT OVER YOU, BLURB

it’s supposed to be a chill night. couple drinks, couple laughs, chris right by your side—hand on your hip, drink in his other, keeping you close, just how he always do.

your girls talking, music bumping, the whole spot got that warm buzz of liquor and bass. it’s good. until it’s not.

popped collar. polo. creased ass jordans.

this motherfucker saunters up like he god’s gift, chin high, breath smelling like he been nursing the same crown and coke for the past hour. and he talking to you.

“you too fine to be standing next to him.”

chris exhales slow through his nose, takes a sip of his drink, blue eyes cutting through the dim lights, locked on this dumbass like he three seconds from turning his ass into swiss cheese.

he don’t say nothing yet. just watching. waiting. sizing him up.

but popped collar wanna act bold. he don’t peep the way your body leans into chris’s touch, don’t clock the warning signs in his stare. he keeps going.

“you the kinda girl that need a real man.”

oh. yeah. it’s wraps.

chris tilts his head, licks his teeth, hand on your waist gripping just a little tighter. real man? that’s cute.

“word?” he drawls, voice slow, cocky, already knowing where this about to go.

popped collar nods, goes to touch your wrist like he really just said some smooth shit. you don’t even get a chance to pull back before chris moves.

bap bap bap.

polo on the floor.

chris gripping that fuck ass lauren polo collar, damn near tearing it off the seam, and now it look like the little polo player embroidered on his chest been rode into the ground. what in the fuck was that body cross bag placement? shit draped over the polo logo—that motherfucker look like he was riding a god damn tiger. hold up.

your girls screaming, grabbing at your arms, pulling you back before you can get caught in the crossfire. chris’s boys trying to hold him, but soon as polo’s friends jump in, it’s a wrap. hands flying. drinks spilling. whole damn club in chaos.

your friend jumps up on a chair. “ohhhh shittt.”

security late as hell, finally yanking chris and his people up off those bums, dragging them toward the exit. you and your girls follow cause you damn sure not staying in there after that. plus, the vibe was ass anyways.

but chris? he still talking his shit. walking backwards as security leads him out, chin high, all smug like he ain’t just rocked some justin bieber looking motherfucker’s shit.

popped collar trying to talk back, but it’s real hard to sound tough when you still dazed, leaning against the bouncer for support.

“fuck outta here, man,” chris scoffs, shaking them off as they get outside. he’s still hot, jaw tight, nostrils flaring. but he done now. his point been made.

car ride? dead silent. not even music. just the low hum of the road and chris’s heavy ass breathing. you glance over, lips pressing together. “at least you won.”

chris don’t react. just keeps looking out the window. few seconds later, you try again. “you really rocked his shit, though.”

he flicks his gaze to you, expression unreadable. “shut the fuck up.”

you smirk, looking out your own window now, unbothered. he’s always like this—simply hotheaded.

he pulls up to your place, hazard lights on, hands gripping the wheel. lets out a long ass sigh, staring straight ahead.

you tilt your head. “you not coming in?”

he shakes his head, eyes still on the street.

you don’t argue. just grab your purse, open the door. pause. glance back. “park up there.”

then you get out.

inside, you drop your keys, set your bag on the counter, start digging through drawers for the first aid kit. cause you already know.

minutes later, the front door creaks open. he’s quiet, moving through the space like a shadow. you don’t even turn around. just pop open the kit, lay out some gauze.

“c’mere.”

he steps closer. hands bruised, knuckles split, but none of polo’s punches connected. that boy was throwing air, meanwhile chris was landing every hit.

you clean him up, working fast, efficient. he’s standing there huffing and puffing, acting like he got somewhere to be.

you exhale through your nose, look up at him, unimpressed. “go sit the fuck down ‘til you cool off. you starting to piss me off.”

he let out a breath, real heavy, but did what you said, sinking into the sectional, legs spread, arms slung over the back like he owned the place. two little ass sanrio bandages sat across his knuckles now, a dumb contrast to how hard he was acting. you smirked at the sight, clipping your hair up as you restarted the load of clothes you left in the dryer before heading out earlier.

as you pass the couch, chris reaches out, fingers curling around your hip. next thing you know, you’re landing on his lap with a small oomf, his hands already wandering.

"you done actin’ stupid now?" you murmured, hands pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it.

chris scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "nah.”

you roll your eyes. his grip tightens. “shut up.”

so you do.

and then he kissed you. hot, deep, tongue sliding against yours like he was tryna prove a point. his hands roamed, squeezing at your hips, your ass, your thighs, pulling you tighter against him so you could feel just how much you got to him.

"gon' let me have you?" he muttered against your lips, already knowing the answer. and you did. right there on that sectional, with your dress bunched up around your waist and chris gripping onto you like he owned you. his hands never left your skin, his mouth never stopped moving against yours, against your neck, against every damn place he could reach. he made sure you felt it. made sure you knew that even with all that nonchalant shit, all that attitude, he wanted you. only you.

the next morning, you wake up on the couch, makeup smu-dged, dress wrinkled, weave tousled to hell. no bonnet. an L.

you stretch, sit up, reach to fix your hair—pause.

something’s caught in the strands.

with a frown, you pluck it free, hold it up to inspect.

a god damn sanrio bandage.

@ sosasturns

sosa’s notes: had writers block for a hot min n started typing this up. literally could not stop giggling. popped collar lowk my fav npc like

taglist: @submattenthusiast @sophand4n4 @secretlocket @mrsdillonx @ch6rm @sweetrelieef @gabri3la-sturns @inspiredangel @sturn777 @et6rnalsun @faiyaz555 @whore4mattsturniolo @courta13 @katie-tibo @ifwdominicfike @raesturns @adoremattsturns @conspiracy-ash @cheriiboo @mattsleftball @applecidersturniolo @chrepsi @grace-sturnz @emely9274 @almloe @yourmother29 @ivysturnss @ncm9696 @lovergirl4gracieabrams @angelluv444 @sweetshuga @meiralicious @izzylovesmatt

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flag IV

Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Child!Reader

Summary: You're hurt and scared

Your head throbs as you wake up, the pitter-patter of rain falling on your skin.

The rain is cold but your tears are hot, scorching your skin as they roll down your cheeks.

The butterfly you were chasing is missing, flown away to hide from the spring storm that you now find yourself trapped in.

You don't know how long it has been raining but you're soaked to the bone and shivering.

Two Jordans whine at you, both blurry around the edges as you sit up.

There is a sharp rock where your head was, blood being washed away as the rain gets heavier.

The Jordans whine at you again and you reach out for one of them but your hand passes right through.

"Jordi?" You ask as the second Jordan nudges you with his snout," I'm tired. Where's...Where's Mama and Mummy?"

Your eyes slip closed for a moment. It's easy to nod off even though you're very cold and your head feels icky.

Jordan barks and you jolt awake again, head throbbing.

Hot blood runs from your forehead down your face as your gaze goes blurry again, Jordan just a weird dog shaped blur.

You want Mama and Mummy. You don't know where they are.

The rain turns to snow quickly and the temperature plummets, your clothes freezing on your body.

Your breath comes out in a puff in front of you.

Jordan barks again, lightly nudging you under a little ledge. It does little to stop the cold but it keeps you out of the snow that clings and melts in your hair.

Jordan is warm against you and you shiver, little hands burying themselves into his fur.

"Mama an' Mummy," You say through cracked lips," Jordi...Where Mama an' Mummy?"

You don't remember much, not really.

You were playing in the forest with Frida earlier and she let you run ahead with Jordan a little bit, as long as you stayed in sight at all times.

There was a fork in the path. Usually, you swing right but Jordan got distracted by a butterfly and went left.

You followed after him, distracted by the butterfly too.

You'd tripped on something. You're not sure what it was, maybe an upturned root or tree branch. You'd tripped though and went tumbling down into the ditch.

You must have hit your head on that rock because your head is all sticky with blood.

"J-Jordi," You say, shivering," 'm cold. Mummy an' Mama be here soon?"

Jordan doesn't answer you, patting his front paws on the ground as you lean more heavily into him.

"'m tired too," You say," Havin' a little nap."

Your fingertips are freezing. You can barely move them as they go from their usual colour to a little purple. Your lips are the same colour but you can't see them.

"Jus' a little nap. A little one, Jordi."

Your eyes slip closed again as you lean your head against Jordan's body.

He whines a little, shifting around before he's curled fully around you.

Jordan's nice and warm like your blankets at home, when you're wedged between Mama and Mummy in front of the fire with a little mug of hot chocolate that Mummy makes special for you with whipped cream, chocolate shavings and marshmallows.

You don't know how long you nap for or even if you nap at all.

It's like one long blink as Jordan shifts away from you, barking and snarling.

You've never heard Jordan snarl before so you try to wrench your eyes open. It's hard going though, frozen shut by all your tears, but eventually, you get them open.

There's another dog shaped blur in front of Jordan, lying down on the ground nonplussed.

There's a human shape too and you puff out a big breath.

"Mama?"

"No, sweetie," The blob says," I'm not your Mama. But I'm here to take you to her. Can you come a bit closer?"

You try to get closer but you don't have much strength to get to your feet, all shaky and weak.

Jordan whines when you fall over and snaps as the strange woman comes closer.

"Easy," She says to your dog," I'm here to help her. That's a nasty cut you've got there. Can you tell me how it happened?"

"I...I hurted myself when I fell. Big ouchie."

"Yeah, it is. I've got a little bandage here, can I put it on you?"

"Bandage? Like-Like a plaster?"

"Like a big plaster."

You lean forward and the woman gently presses the gauze over your bleeding head.

"And what about your eyesight? Can you see me properly?"

"Like-Like a blob," You answer," Saw two Jordi's earlier but now only one."

"Okay, sweetheart, thanks for telling me." She reaches for her radio. "I've got her here. Skipper tracked her and her dog down. I've got a serious head wound and a likely grade three concussion. Complaints of blurry vision. Likely loss of consciousness. Difficulties with balance and speech. I've got early symptoms of hypothermia but it seemed her dog helped stave the worst of that off."

You reach out for Jordan again, who presses into your body.

"Got it, boss. Bringing her in now."

The woman reaches for you and you go willingly.

She'll take you to Mama and Mummy.

Jordan pads after you, still wary.

Emma sits at the entrance of the forest next to the ambulance. Frida sobs at her side, both of them wrapped in a blanket as they wait.

They know the paramedic has found you now, her and her dog Skipper have tracked you and Jordan down but it doesn't quell Emma's worry for you.

Not until the high-vis jacket pokes out from the forest and the search and rescue team swarm.

A blanket is wrapped around you tightly and the gauze is gently pulled away from your face to see the extent of the injury.

"Squish?" Frida calls, trying to fight through the crowd," Is she okay? Will she be alright?"

You're loaded into the ambulance, awake and talking as Emma and Frida crowd around you.

"Mama. Mummy," You say," Found me."

"Yeah," Emma says, blinking away tears," Of course we found you, squish."

You shiver. "Stayed put like you told me if I got lost. Stayed with Jordi."

Emma glances down at her feet. Jordan's covered in snow, streaks of blood drying on his fur.

"Jordi, good boy."

"The best boy."

Frida takes Emma's place talking to you, cupping your cheek as Emma reaches down for Jordan.

"You're such a good boy, Jordi," She tells him," For looking after her. The best big brother in the world."

"He almost attacked Skipper for trying to get to her," The search and rescue paramedic that found you says," He was very worried on the walk back. You've got a good one there. Both of them. She didn't run off. She stayed exactly where she fell."

"Thank you, for finding her."

"It's my job. We've got a hospital nearby that will take care of you all. They'll take her for a scan, sew up her head and put her on concussion watch. She'll be fine."

Emma can't help but repeat it again. "Thank you."

"Go," The woman says," Be with your kid."

You won't remember much of this experience. You'll never really remember the fall or the crack of your skull against the rock. You'll never really remember the nearly three hours you spent missing, huddled under the ledge with Jordan, who was desperately trying to keep you awake as your breathing got shallower and shallower and your got colder and colder.

You'll never remember the trip to the hospital but you will remember the paramedic that found you and her dog Skipper.

You will always remember her high-vis jacket and her body against yours as she carried you out of the forest back to your mothers.

You will always carry that memory with you, even when you're out in your own high-vis jacket with your own tracking dog and your own emergency medicine kit.