#like i NEED that in my room u don’t understand

[try-set-me-on-fire]

requesting hand kisses for all my life there you go if ur still taking :) that's one of my favourite ongoing fics in the whole fandom! every time u update I smile so big. - @team-118

@chaosandwolves also requested this one! Thank you so much omg 😳😳😳 Uhhhh sorry this is kind of stream of consciousness half tragic 8x08 reaction…. They’ll kiss for real eventually Eddie’s just going through it. On ao3!

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, backlit by the sun coming in through the window over the sink. Wrong sink, wrong window, so many many miles away from anything Buck knows as home, but also- maybe they’d fit into any kitchen like this. Eddie at the sink by the window, Buck at the table. So we just never leave the kitchen, Buck thinks. They never go back into the wrong living room of this tiny apartment 15 minutes from Christopher and 12 hours from Los Angeles. They never leave because Buck doesn’t know how to exist outside of this context, Eddie at the sink and Buck at the table. They just stay right here. They move kitchen to kitchen, it’ll all be okay.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says again. He looks tired. It’s January. He left before Thanksgiving and Buck couldn’t eat anything the whole day, pushed around turkey and mashed potatoes he helped Bobby make on the nice dishes Maddie got down from storage. It’s January but it's Texas, and it can get cold sometimes but it isn’t right now, so he’s in shorts and a worn out t-shirt, holes in the collar. His arms are crossed. Holding himself together. Buck knows the feeling.

“Buck,” Eddie says, stunned, broken open, dripping with guilt. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.” One hand wanders out from the knot he’s tied himself in and then quickly tangles itself back up again. “I don’t… know-” he laughs, this is stunned too. “You were there- you were always just there. I didn’t need to ask- there was nothing to ask. It’s just the way it was.” He looks up, guilty guilty. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Leaving you.” All the air sighs out of Buck’s lungs, and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s never been hard to talk to Eddie, who’s always waited out his stumbled words and winding sentences easily and without judgment, but the only thing he has to say now is: I did. You were looking at homes and you said they’re in El Paso and I knew exactly what it would feel like for you to rip yourself out of me. I forgive you for not knowing — I didn’t understand either, until that moment — but I did know.

“And now I- Buck, I don’t want to live like that- like this- I don’t want a life without you in it. A-and I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie’s face is helpless, begging. “I know you- I don’t know that I-” one hand reaches again, pulls back again. “You like men and I- I don’t know that I-” a furrow between his brows and he looks as scared as he only ever was telling Buck about people who died in a helicopter crash years after it went down. “I’d try. To be that for you. To- to do that with you. I’ll- we can-”

“Eddie,” Buck says.

“Can’t I just want to hold you?” Eddie demands it. “Can’t I- can’t you sleep next to me? Can’t I take care of you?” He looks near angry. “What do you- I don’t need anything else. I don’t need anything else. Just- can’t I have you?” Buck thinks it’s probably unnecessary to say you already do. In any way. Held and slept beside and cared for. What else is there? He’d live off far less.

“I’d marry you,” Eddie says. “I’ll marry you. You can- if you need- there can be other people but you can come home to me. I’ll- Chris- it’s getting better. We’ll come home soon, we’ll move home soon, and- and we’ll work together again and you come home to me-” hands uncrossed, hovering, shaking. “You can do anything, you can see other people, just- come home to me.”

“There’s only you,” Buck whispers.

“Buck,” Eddie says, a cry. He comes closer. “Please.” When his hands touch Buck’s face, warm, he almost flinches. It’s just that they’re so real, solid, impossible to dismiss as imagination or hallucination or dream or wishful thinking. Eddie’s hands, on his face, scratching into his hair, scrabbling over his back as the man collapses onto him smelling like deodorant and coffee and sweat, t-shirt cotton soft over the fat and muscle that presses into Buck’s face. Buck’s arms drift up to hold him back. This is a new place Buck could learn the context for. Kitchen sink and table, held in Eddie’s arms. The only two places in the world that make any goddamn sense. Eddie’s curled over him, a shelter, his body a home. But Buck already knew that, too.

“Sorry,” Eddie croaks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I’m like this.” Buck holds tighter so Eddie doesn't shake so much. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you- I’m sorry I hurt you. God- Buck, it hurts, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-” Buck shakes his head, face dragging across Eddie’s chest. He could fall asleep here. Rest until they go meet Christopher this afternoon. Rest until he has to get up at 4 to get to the airport and catch the red-eye and tear himself in two again. Visiting was a bad idea, maybe. He’s not sure he can survive that a second time. But Eddie said soon, he said he’ll come home soon, he and Chris. Buck and Eddie and Chris, who all come home at the end of the day, kitchen table kitchen sink Eddie’s arms sleeping and cared for.

“I love you,” Buck says. Why not. Why not.

“Buck,” a gasp, though surely Eddie can’t be surprised. He pulls back, face red and wet. His hands slide across Buck’s shoulders, down his arms, pull Buck’s hands up and press his knuckles to his mouth. Closes his eyes. Buck feels warm puffs of air against his fingers. Two lungs messy breathing loud in the small room. “Buck,” he says, and Buck knows what he means, knows the reply for what it is. He was wrong, the flight will be easy. The wait will be easy.

Eddie opens his eyes.

[synsacra]

SNEAKING OUT OF HEAVEN

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

contents: smut, unprotected piv, mostly soft sanji bro is infatuated with u, creampie, face sitting, praise, lots of pet names in french (chérie, ange, cœur), multiple rounds kinda, strangers to lovers :3

words: 3.2k

a/n: i took french for 5 years in school so if any of it's wrong im blaming my french teacher. title has nothing to do with fic i just like the song anyways enjoy

The salty ocean breeze drifts through the open windows of the Baratie, blending with the mouthwatering aroma of seafood. You’re seated at a table nestled in the corner of the restaurant, absentmindedly fiddling with the napkin in your lap while trying to mask your growing boredom. Across from you, your date rambles on, loudly recounting his so-called “pirate adventures.” His voice is grating, and his over-the-top stories–clearly designed to impress–fall flat.

You nod every now and then, pretending to listen, but your eyes keep darting toward the exit. At least the lively atmosphere of the restaurant and the view of the ocean offer some small comfort.

And then, you see him: your waiter, Sanji.

Tall, elegant, and poised, he strides across the room with an unmatched confidence. His sharp black suit hugs his frame perfectly, and his blond hair falls effortlessly over his left eye as he gracefully balances a tray of dishes. He flashes a flirtatious smile at a woman's table as he delivers her food.

When his gaze meets yours, something shifts. Maybe it’s the silent plea in your eyes or the barely concealed discomfort on your face. Whatever it is, Sanji seems to notice instantly. His smile changes–understanding–and he adjusts the cuff of his sleeve before he approaches your table.

“Good evening, madam, sir,” he says smoothly, bowing politely. His voice is rich and warm, laced with just enough charm to turn heads. “I trust everything is to your liking?”

Your date barely spares him a glance, brushing him off with a dismissive wave. “Yeah, yeah, the food’s fine. Not as good as the stuff I’ve had at restaurants in the Grand Line, though.”

Sanji doesn’t react to the slight, his focus instead shifting to you. His attention feels so direct that it’s as though no one else exists. “And you, mademoiselle?” he asks, his tone softening. “Are you enjoying your evening? If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, just say the word.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, an offer that doesn’t need explaining. Before you can answer, your date cuts in again. “She’s fine,” he says curtly, leaning back with a smug grin. “Right, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? You grit your teeth behind a forced smile, but before you can let the moment pass, you seize the lifeline Sanji has so graciously offered you. “Actually,” you say, setting your napkin on the table, “I could use some fresh air. Could you point me to the deck?”

Sanji’s smile widens, a flicker of amusement lighting his eyes. “Of course. Allow me to escort you.” He extends a hand, and you take it gratefully, the touch of his skin against yours grounding you.

Without waiting for your date’s reaction, Sanji leads you through the bustling restaurant and onto the open deck. The cool night air hits you immediately, carrying the soothing rhythm of waves against the ship. The noise and chaos of the restaurant fade into the background.

“I had a feeling you might need rescuing,” Sanji says softly, leaning casually against the railing. His voice carries the kind of warmth that makes you feel at ease. “Forgive me if I overstepped.”

You laugh–an actual, genuine laugh that feels like a weight lifting off your chest. “Overstepped? Are you kidding? You saved me. That guy was unbearable.”

Sanji chuckles, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a practiced flick. “I could tell. A beautiful woman like you deserves far better company.”

His words, though undeniably flirtatious, don’t feel forced or sleazy. There’s a sincerity to them that makes your shoulders relax.

“Thank you,” you say, meeting his gaze. “I really mean it. I didn’t know how to get out of that.”

He tips his head slightly, exhaling a soft plume of smoke that drifts into the night. “It’s my pleasure,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No one should have to endure an evening like that.”

For a moment, the two of you stand there in comfortable silence, the gentle crash of waves filling the gaps. Sanji turns toward you, his eyes soft and thoughtful. “You know,” he says, his voice dipping lower, “you deserve to be treated like royalty. Let me show you how.”

His words linger in the air, and though they’re laced with charm, there’s an earnestness that makes your heart skip a beat. You feel a warm flush creep up your neck as you search his face, wondering if you dare to say yes.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” you ask softly.

Sanji’s smile deepens, slow and deliberate. “Let me take care of you. Anything you want, mademoiselle.”

The invitation is thrilling, and for the first time all evening, you feel alive. With a breathless nod, you accept. “Alright,” you say, heart pounding. “Show me.”

Sanji’s smile widens; he puts his cigarette out and offers you his arm. You wrap your fingers around his bicep, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his suit. Together, you make your way across the deck and up a narrow staircase.

His private quarters are cozy and inviting, a bed covered in blue pinstripe sheets and lighted by a singular lamp. Sanji guides you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room is filled with the faint scent of his cologne and cigarette smoke.

He turns to face you, his eyes darkening with desire. “Why don’t you take off your clothes for me, chérie,” he says gently. “Let me see you.”

You hesitate for only a moment before reaching for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head, and tossing it aside. Your bra follows, the cool air dancing across your sensitive nipples as they harden in response. You kick off your heels quickly, leaving you standing in nothing but your underwear.

Sanji's eyes trail over you, slow and deliberate, leaving you feeling both exposed and a little self-conscious. He steps closer, his voice soft but full of warmth. "Tu es tellement belle…" he says, his breath mingling with yours. "Absolutely breathtaking."

His fingers trace the contours of your body with adoration, caressing every curve. Sanji leans in, his lips brushing against your neck as he murmurs, "Thank you for blessing me with this sight, mon ange." His touch ignites a trail of goosebumps across your skin. He trails feather-light kisses along your collarbone, then down to the swell of your breasts.

Sanji cups one in his palm, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbles beneath his touch. He lowers his head, capturing the sensitive bud between his lips, suckling gently. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you at the sensation. You arch into him with a soft moan.

Sanji releases your tit from his mouth, a glistening thread of saliva stretching between the damp peak of your nipple and the tip of his tongue before breaking. “Tell me what you want,” He sighs, “I’ll fulfill any request of yours.”��

"I want..." You trail off, your breath catching as Sanji's fingers dance across your sensitive skin. "I want you to make me feel good."

A knowing smirk curves his lips. "And how might I do that, mon ange? Tell me." He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, stirring the heat building between your legs.

You gasp at the sensation. "Sanji… touch me more."

He obliges, large hands smoothing over your thighs before one hand slides higher to cup your cunt possessively. His thumb finds your clothed clit and presses against it softly. He rubs slow circles around it, applying gentle pressure that has you biting your lip to hold back a moan.

"Like this?" he purrs.

You nod quickly, toes curling in anticipation. Sanji's eyes darken with lust as he watches you squirm under his touch. "You're so responsive," he mumbles approvingly. His ministrations become firmer, more insistent - working your aching nub until you're panting and arching into his hand needily.

With a sly grin, Sanji suddenly withdraws his hand, leaving you whimpering in protest. But before you can complain, he's falling back on the bed and pulling you on top of him. He grasps your hips and pulls you upwards, positioning you above his face. "Time for a change of pace," he whispers, his breath fanning over your skin.

You feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you realize what he's planning. But Sanji's hands are firm, guiding you into place. As he tugs your panties down to your knees, you instinctively help him, wriggling them the rest of the way down your legs. Your cunt is now poised above Sanji's face, and the feeling of his warm breath sends a thrill through you.

Sanji's eyes lock onto yours from below you. "Sit down, mon ange," he coaxes. "Let me taste you."

Your heart races as you slowly lower yourself onto his face. The moment his tongue touches you, you let out a strangled moan. Sanji's tongue moves with deliberate strokes, exploring every inch of your sopping pussy. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, sending shivers through your body as he laps up your juices.

As Sanji continues to lick at your cunt, you feel your body begin to tense, your muscles tensing with anticipation. His hands are still grasped firmly around your hips, holding you in place as he devours you. The sensation is almost too much to bear, and you find yourself rocking gently against his face, urging him on as he brings you closer to the brink of orgasm.

Your moans grow louder as Sanji's tongue probes deeper, his strokes growing more insistent. You can feel the pleasure building inside of you, a coil in your belly that threatens to snap every second. Your hands reach out, grasping for something to hold onto, and find the headboard of the bed, your fingers wrapping tightly around it as you grind against Sanji's skilled mouth. "Oh fuck, Sanji! Feels so good…"

He groans at your words, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. Two fingers slip inside you, curling and stroking your velvety walls.

Your hips buck against him as he works his tongue and fingers, pushing you closer to the edge. "Sanji…’m close!" you gasp out.

The combined sensation of Sanji's tongue and fingers sends you over the edge. Your body convulses in his grip as a powerful orgasm crashes through you, your pussy clenching around his fingers. "Shit…cumming, Sanji!" You cry out, back arching as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your veins.

Sanji holds you steady, lapping gently at your throbbing pussy until the aftershocks subside. When they do, he guides you down to lay beside him on the bed. He tugs you close and captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.

"Mmm...you look radiant when you cum," he murmurs into the kiss. His clothed cock presses insistently against your hip, but when you reach for it, he captures your wrist. "Not yet," he teases with a wink. "I want to enjoy this moment with you first."

Sanji tucks a strand of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before nuzzling into your neck tenderly, peppering soft kisses along the column of your throat. Your breath comes in shaky gasps as you try to regain your composure from the intensity of your orgasm. Sanji's skilled mouth and fingers have left you feeling boneless.

As his lips trail lower, brushing over your collarbone and onto the swell of your breasts, desire stirs anew in your belly. He takes a hardened nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue before grazing it lightly with his teeth. Your slick cunt clenches around nothing at the sensation.

Your hands find their way into his hair, tangling in the silken strands as he worships your tits. "Sanji..." His name falls from your lips on a needy moan.

He lifts his head, teasing eyes meeting yours. "Want me now?"

"Yes," you whine, arching into him. "I need you inside me."

A slow grin spreads across Sanji's face at your words. "Mmm...who am I to deny a lady what she wants."

You watch as he stands up to slip off his suit jacket and hang it on a hook beside the door. Next is his button-down, which he unbuttons with deft fingers before shrugging it off, folding it, and sitting it on the shelf at the end of the bed. Your breath hitches as his toned chest is revealed to your hungry gaze.

Sanji's hands move to his belt next, unbuckling and pulling the leather free before tossing it aside carelessly. He pops the button of his slacks and drags the zipper down achingly slow.

You swallow thickly as he pushes them down along with his underwear in one smooth motion, freeing his cock. It bobs heavily against his stomach, flushed a deep red, and precum beading at the tip.

“Do you see what you do to me, mon cœur?” Sanji purrs.

Your eyes darken with lust as they roam over Sanji's naked form appreciatively. His body is on full display, from the toned abs to his cock jutting proudly from neatly trimmed blond curls at his groin.

Sanji climbs onto the bed again, crawling up your body. He settles between your spread thighs, the heat of his skin seeping into yours as he presses against you. He captures your mouth in another deep kiss, tongue delving past your lips to tangle with yours.

 "God...you’re driving me wild," he groans against your mouth breathlessly before nipping at your bottom lip.

Your hands slide down his back to grip his ass tightly. You roll your hips against his in a blatant invitation, and he lets out a strangled moan.

"You're playing with fire, mon cœur." Sanji smiles, punctuating each word with a grind of his hips.

You both let out twin gasps as the head of his cock nudges demandingly at your slick entrance. Your cunt clenches greedily around nothing, trying to pull him inside.

"Merde… You're so fucking wet," Sanji grits out before sinking into you fully in one smooth thrust.

A long moan tears from your throat at the sudden stretch of being so deliciously filled by him. As he bottoms out, you can feel every ridge and vein rubbing exquisitely along your walls.

For a moment, Sanji stays buried deep inside you, savoring the feeling of finally being inside of you. Then he begins moving–slowly pulling out and gently fucking back into your cunt..

Your hands fist in the sheets above you as you tilt your hips up to meet his steady thrusts, wanting to take him even deeper. The new angle has Sanji groaning deeply.

Sanji's eyes roll back, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he feels your walls gripping him tightly. "Nnngh...you feel so good," he pants out, one hand coming up to cup your breast. He rolls it between his fingers before giving a light pinch to your hardened nipple.

"F-fuck...just like that!" You keen, hands twisting into the sheets harder as Sanji’s cock bullies that spot inside of you that makes sparks shoot across your vision with each drag over it.

"Mmm...I knew this sweet angel cunt would feel like heaven wrapped around my cock," he whines filthily in your ear.

Your body trembles with each deep stroke, Sanji's words sending a rush of heat through your veins. The coil in your stomach tightens, your moans coming faster and higher as he drives you closer to the edge.

"Tighten up around my cock, mon cœur… let me feel you." Sanji hums, continuing his deep and deliberate thrusts into you. 

You cry out sharply as he hits that spot again, hips jerking upwards to meet his thrusts. His hand leaves your breast to wrap around your thigh, hoisting it higher over his shoulder.

The new angle has him pounding against that spot with every snap of his hips, pushing you closer to falling apart underneath him. "That's it, cum on my cock," Sanji encourages breathlessly against your neck.

Your walls flutter around him wildly as you teeter on the brink. A particularly hard thrust from Sanji sends you careening over the edge with a silent scream, vision whiting out behind your eyelids from the force of your orgasm.

Sanji groans as he feels you tighten like a vice around his throbbing cock, the rhythmic squeezes of your release milking him for all he's worth. His hips stutter against yours, prolonging your pleasure as he chases his own high.

“Fuck-” He gasps out after a moment, voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. “The way you look when you cum makes me want to see you cum all over again.”

Your breath hitches at his words, already feeling the heat coiling low in your stomach again despite having just come so hard. Sanji notices and smirks down at you wickedly.

“Mmm...I think I'm going to make good on that promise.” He smiles as he flips your positions so you're now straddling him.

His hands land on your hips encouragingly as you sink down onto his waiting cock. You both moan at the feeling of him filling you up so perfectly once again.

“Ah fuck,” You whine lowly as Sanji bottoms out inside you. Your fingers dig into his chest for purchase before you start rolling your hips experimentally over him.

Sanji groans at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as your walls clench around him needily. "Mon cœur...move," he urges breathlessly, giving your hips a squeeze.

You oblige by lifting yourself up until only the tip of him remains inside before sinking back down slowly. Sanji curses under his breath, hands guiding your movements.

“Harder,” He demands when you pick up speed, meeting each roll of your hips with a snap upwards of his own.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with Sanji's deep grunts and your keening cries. You feel that telltale coil tightening once more in your stomach as he drives into you wildly from below.

“Gonna cum again,” You warn through gritted teeth moments before seeing stars behind your eyelids once more.

Sanji feels you clenching down on him rhythmically as you fall apart, the wet heat of your release coating his cock. The feeling pushes him over the edge, and with one last deep thrust, he buries himself inside you completely as he cums.

“Merde,” He groans out through gritted teeth, hips twitching sporadically into yours as he empties himself into you with short, sharp thrusts.

After a long moment, Sanji's movements still, and he collapses back onto the bed. His hands loosen their grip on your hips as they fall limply to his sides. You stay where you are for a while longer, enjoying the feeling of him softening inside your sensitive walls before finally lifting off of him carefully.

Aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you at the movement, but neither of you make a sound other than shaky breaths. Sanji pulls you down beside him so your fronts are pressed together.

“Tu es magnifique, mon ange,” He murmurs in satisfaction against your skin before pressing a light kiss just below your jawline. 

“Stay with me tonight…forget that sorry excuse of a man. Let him find his own way home.”

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words, a warmth blooming in your chest. "I'd like that," you reply softly, turning to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

[wikitpowers]

i swear if they don't make one of those cute kit plushies once twp comes out i'm sueing

[bibleofficial]

where is my fat husband

[starlooove]

I already said this but if u make Aisha the tallest in ur fanart i hate u a lil

[shaykai]

Gonna slap the people who named bugs

[whumpy-wyrms]

hey guys

[moonilit]

9, 10, 19 hehe

Dammit rhine did u have to ask 19??

9. worst part of canon: honestly? Events. Don’t get me wrong i like the fun about Them but also dislike how sometimes they either tell so much that you go like “how on earth this is in an event??” Or just go horribly they ruin what u Already have established in canon. Half the time you don’t really know if the even itself with its character interactions is even canon or not, even if it is, 1) not everyone could have played the event they would have to water down whatever friendship, or development that happened in it for future players and 2) the story will be effected by whatever sail goal the company having at that moment. Like are we having a plot revelation or not hoyo? Do i have to pretend to be surprised in the future for u or not?

10. worst part of fanon: well, I CAN say characterization and i would be right, but im going to nitpick here and say wtf is up with u all having a weird thing about adult siblings sharing a bed constantly?? If i have to read another reconciliation fic of the ragbros where they are constantly jumping in each other beds im going to start thinking u are trying to imply something here (sharing a bed is NOT how u show how far then come that is TOO far, hit the breaks)

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

I have not been mentally ok sense I got this reblog right here

bestie this post fucked me up, it fucks me up because it made me aware of things i wasn’t ready to be aware of, its not even funny. Why god why did i have to realize that by this definition alone i would be calling Diluc Ragnvender babygirl dude im not ok im

its one thing to be horrified by the implication its a whole another thing when i realized that i would actually blush at the thought i want to die kill meeee

[usedtobemygirl]

I start volunteering at the cat cafe in a couple weeks but I honestly don’t know what’s happening and I need full instructions on what I’m doing but they said they’d train me on the job but I cannot comprehend verbal instructions so i think ill die

[starflared-arrow]

.

[schoolgirl739]

i just need to live alone

[edwardtulanepdf]

why can’t they invent a family dynamic that’s normal

[ruthytwoshakes]

team furries twoooo. And scalies. And whatever birds are.

please share and donate to this family of four, the youngest being only 2 1/2 years old. They need funds to safely cross to Egypt. If you donate something, send me a message with proof and I’ll draw you something nice as a thank you :)

Species and concept art under cut!

Sniper: so for some reason I was under the impression that Crocs were native to new zealand. They are not. Uh. Well. yup. 👍 it fits his personality. snappy n dangerous but real easy to get around if you just zig-zag. Why the long fa

Spy: Grey Fox. I was gonna go with a wolf because of his fursona but fox fits better wahhhh. Also means that scout is half fox! I’ll show that in more detail one day. Probably.

Medic: just like his Doves! The tail coat is actual his real tail. Featherrrrrs. Why are his nasty claws out? I don’t know he’s kinda weird like that.

Demo: TIGER!!!!! He’s always kinda reminded me of Hobbes from Calvin and Hobbes :) why did I draw him so cute. Somebody stop me before I draw them all adorable ough.

Engineer: the bulllllerrrrrrrrr. Sorry. He’s a bull, with a nose ring. Epic. Hooves for hands, gunslinger would look like a hoof too, gotta design that later.

Heavy: big badass brown bear. Love him. Instead of bullet he has honey sticks. It costs four hundred thousand dollars to harvest honey… for 12 seconds.

Pyro: fucking dragon. hell yeah. In pyroland they see themselves as a unicorn. Baller.

Scout: Bunny scout truther over here. You can thank @/teamfurtress for that. Please check them out, commissions are open! In my version he’s a hare but that is significantly less fun to say lol. Jackrabbit kinda guy.

Soldier: regular ole dog. ouppy to da max. He’s the most dog of the alol time and I’m tired of pretending he’s not. THE STRAPS ON HIS HELEMT ARE HIS EARS. HIS BIG TEETH AND OPEN MOUTHED SMILE. THE WAY HE MOVES. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!???!??????! That’s a grown man with dick n balls what am I doing

Some designs for the side characters that I couldn’t be arsed to finish. Saxton is kangaroo because of corse he is. Admin is a bat because she never leaves her room, Pauling is mouse because is cute, Zhanna is bear like big brother, Merasmus is praying mantis, and Gray Mann + Olivia Mann are vultures! She’s so fluffy oh my god

Concept time. I fell in love with wrinkly floppy dog sniper. Adorable. Unfortunately I already had a dog so he had to go </3 kangaroo sniper was also axed. rip girl. Lots of diff designs for admin! Curtesy of @stangeranfanficion (thank u for the ideass) eagle soldier because it’s funny. Also zebra Pauling! I really like this one. If I make a horse au she’s going to be a zebra.

[rafey-baby]

hidden

outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…

18+ mdni!

c/w: outlaw!rafe being mean and manipulative, mentions of murder, violence & other dark themes, he’s also weirdly soft in the end?

wc: 2k

he's been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

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

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the oak door at 3 am— revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his big hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.  

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving as he stares down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg.  

At first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to.

But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.  

She’s about to open her mouth and she’s not sure whether she was going to scream for help or simply stare at him with her mouth hung open in shock but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting a massive palm over her mouth.  

“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. 

And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to even move a muscle; the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose, making her face scrunch up. And she doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blaming it on the fact that half of her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland; soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars. 

And he’s just so mean, ordering her around with a gun to her head, manhandling her around to his liking, grumbling about needing to stay at her house for a bit since he needs a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught. Apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.  

“I didn’t even mean to kill the guy, alright. He just kept pissing me off on purpose and I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?” He offers as an explanation that seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage. It’s loud enough for him to hear; almost as if she’s a terrified rabbit and he’s a big bad wolf, hunting down his prey.  

“I’m taking a shower now, and you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to hurt you, and I really don’t wanna do that, okay?” 

She nods her head, unable to form any coherent sentences. 

He takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he steps closer to her, inquiring whether she lives alone or not, to which she just nods her head again.  

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knocking on your door in the middle of the night you don’t fucking open, alright?”  

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.  

The second he’s in her bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think; quickly coming up with a rickety plan as she listens to the water streaming down from behind the door. She waits for a moment, making sure the coast is clear before she bolts towards her bedroom, trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.  

However, her shaky hands don’t help her one bit when they drop the phone; the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room.  

She can’t breathe, her brain short-circuits as she bends down, reaching for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off; an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she fruitlessly tries to turn it back on and call for help but it’s proving to be harder than she thought when her lungs decide to stop working, her respiration shallow and her heartbeat ringing in her ears.  

“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her blood run cold; a shiver traveling down her spine as she slightly jumps, a faint gasp leaving her.  

“Why did you just do that, huh? Told you, didn’t wanna fucking hurt you and then you go and pull this shit,” a strong hand is gripping her by her throat as he turns her around to face him.  

“I’m sorry, I...I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, unable to move.  

“You don’t what, huh?” He stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seemingly entirely indifferent to her torment.  

“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible, making a grim chuckle bubble out of his chest.  

“Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” He scoffs, cruel words mocking her.  

“You’re so fucking stupid, want me to kill you, is that what you want?” He grits out as he squeezes at her neck, making her feel dizzy; gasping for air.  

“No! No, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages to force out as he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.  

“Anything, huh? That’s real tempting and all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you understand?”  

“I won’t, I promise. You can...stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s gonna pass out soon, stars peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs starting to feel heavy. His coarse panting fills her eardrums as he seems to contemplate her offer for a moment.  

“If you even think about running to the cops tonight, I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?” 

She’s frantically nodding her head and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back, trying to even out her respiration.  

He doesn’t say anything, silently observing her as she clears her throat, swallowing a few times as she tries to pacify her racing heart and calm the thoughts running around her head; trying to reassure herself that she’s still alive and she will stay that way if she just doesn’t rile him up anymore.  

He notices how her rounded eyes look up at him as he stands before her, smelling like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo, nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.  

“What’s— um…what’s your name?” Her voice is creaky when she tries a different approach once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, a nervous hesitation overlaying her precarious question.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he simply dismisses her, but a small pout molds her mouth as she stares at him and he lets out a discontented sigh, rolling his eyes.  

“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless and he laughs at her priorities. A literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.  

“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?” She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she supposes if she gets him to talk about something, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.  

“You seriously wanna know?” He raises his brows. 

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on shaking her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling out from his sturdy chest.  

“So, uh— what is it that you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” She tries once more.  

“Look, the less you know, the better, alright?” He simply states, making her let out a soft sigh in defeat.  

All of a sudden, a vigorous thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.  

She flinches at the sound and the sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.  

“You scared of a little storm?” He feigns concern as he peers down at her.  

“N— no,” she lies, forcing her face to stay neutral, hesitant about him finding out her weaknesses.  

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” The mocking grin on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows, wishing this was all just a nightmare she could wake up from.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

After that little incident, he thinks that she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.  

He can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered, doted on; to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. Makes him figure he's gonna enjoy his stay just fine.  

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to his own tired form, pointing his gun at him.  

His softened bones feel mellow from the sleep and he lets out a sigh, rubbing at his sleepy eyes and shifts to sit on the couch cushions; teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. 

“Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Trying to be all tough now, are we?” There’s a lazy smile on his face.  

“I— I want you to…leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.  

And he’s trying to take her serious, he really is, but it’s proving to be a little difficult since she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.  

“You want me to leave? Maybe you should work on your pitch, I’m not very convinced, you know?” The exasperating smirk plastered on his face makes her brows crease.  

“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face and he thinks she looks rather adorable.  

“Come on, Puppy. You’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” His voice is even; she hesitates. 

“Well, it can’t be that…complicated?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he really can’t keep the chuckle from bubbling out of his throat. Her frown deepens.  

“Why don’t you give it to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience. Would break you, you’re too soft for that shit.”  

“You don’t— know me.” 

“I know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet. He takes a slow step towards her and she squeezes the gun tighter in her trembling fingers.  

“If I give it to you, you’re gonna— you’re gonna…kill me. I don’t wanna die,” her words are hysterical, rushed.  

“Now who said anything about killing you? Look, if you give me the gun right now, I’m not gonna do anything. I give you my word, alright?” He’s towering over her, solid chest nearly grazing the barrel.  

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.  

“I know, Pup. But I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a contrast to her own precarious ones when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.  

“There we go, no need to be so fucking theatrical, yeah?” He lowers his head in order to lock his eyes with her frenzied ones.  

“See? Not hurting you, am I?”  

She manages out a hum of agreement and then her waterline is brimming with water, salty droplets trickling down her cheeks as she chokes out a sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”  

“Hey, hey it’s all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” He says and then his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster and for some reason that makes her weep harder.  

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind, big paw rubbing against her back. And it’s almost…comforting, she thinks as he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.  

“There you go, just let it all out and maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You Pogues can be so fucking dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.  

“Shit, if I’d known you were such a crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form, pushing her back to stumble on her feet; setting the gun back on the coffee table with a clank. 

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest. 

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails. 

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing. 

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee. 

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?” 

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.” 

“She is pretty adorable.” 

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually. 

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.” 

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug. 

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.” 

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—” 

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to. 

“Is something wrong with my shirt?” 

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise. 

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip. 

“Can we have one?” 

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made. 

“You--you mean like a baby?” 

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes. 

“I thought we were waiting on that.” 

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.” 

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!” 

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.” 

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—” 

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes. 

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—” 

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense. 

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.  

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.” 

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.” 

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.  

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes. 

“You’re ready?”  

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.” 

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.  

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle. 

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.” 

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment. 

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.” 

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically. 

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.” 

[streetlamp-amber]

first kicks

batfamily x batmom!reader

word count: 1.9k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: family fluff, pregnancy NOTES: i wanted to write more batfam fluff this time with jason included. very sorry if jason is ooc, most of my knowledge of him comes from fics lol

Rainy Sunday afternoons at Wayne Manor were usually spent with you and your sons in the living room, occupying the big U-shaped sectional sofa. Sometimes Bruce would join you three, resting his feet on the coffee table as he worked on his laptop. Today was one of those days.

You were helping Dick do some research on the internet for a science school project that was due next week while Jason laid on his stomach on the other side of the couch, reading a Where’s Waldo? book by himself. Your husband sat in the other corner of the couch, doing some research on the latest villain terrorising Gotham. You didn’t mind if the work he was doing was for Batman, as long as he spent some time with the family outside of the cave, you were satisfied. Especially since the Wayne clan was about to expand in a little more than four months. Plus, with your belly growing bigger as the weeks went by, it was becoming harder for you to do some tasks around the house. Tasks that you didn’t want to ask Alfred for help with since it was your husband’s job to be at your beck and call through the pregnancy. Bruce obviously didn’t mind and loved helping you, he just sometimes tended to get lost in his Batman work for long periods of time.

The television was playing in the background, a football game between two teams that you didn’t really care about was taking place but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t work well without some sort of background noise and this was doing the job.

”So Dick, have you chosen which natural disaster to base your research project on?” Bruce asked your eldest while closing his laptop and joining him on his other side, making the twelve year old squished between his parents.

”We’ve narrowed it down to three: the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina,” Dick answered, clicking on different tabs of each of the natural disasters as he named them. “I want to do my research on a popular one so I can easily find all the information I need.”

”Smart, isn’t he?” You smirked at Bruce as you mindlessly threaded your fingers in Dick’s dark hair who continued scrolling on the internet.

“Never thought otherwise,” your husband said, mirroring your grin. “Jay, have you found all the Waldos yet?” He leaned forward to ask Jason.

“I’m almost done,” the six year old easily dismissed Bruce, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the pages.

“It’s best not to bother him when he’s searching for Waldo,” you informed your husband in a low volume.

Bruce nodded his head in understanding and redirected his attention back on Dick. “So, how are you gonna make your choice, chum? You could write them down on three pieces of paper and do a draw,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Dick, his fingers playing with the neck of your tshirt.

“Dad, I don’t need to write it down on some paper,” Dick sighed, a little annoyed. “You can do that on the internet now.”

“You can?” Bruce asked, surprised. Your husband was really tech savvy when it came down to work related to Batman, but silly, random stuff like a drawing roulette was not part of his internet knowledge.

You leaned your head on your left hand that was propped on the back of the couch and soothingly rubbed your round belly with the other. You watched with a soft smile Dick showing Bruce how to generate a random picking wheel to spin on the internet. Moments like these were the ones you cherished the most, domesticity wasn’t always the norm around here when you had two vigilantes living under your roof so you always tried to savour them whenever they happened.

The calmness in you was interrupted when you felt movement under your right hand.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes round like saucers as you looked down at your bump and raised up the hem of your shirt to make sure what you felt was right.

“What?” Bruce immediately turned his attention to you. “What is it? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

“I think the baby just kicked,”you said, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“The baby just kicked?” He repeated in disbelief.

You shook your head ‘yes’ just as you felt more movement. “The baby kicked again.”

Bruce rapidly stood up to sit by your side while Dick discarded his laptop before placing a hand on your belly and Jason left his book to climb on your husband’s lap to be closer to you. All had a hand on your stomach, staring at it expectantly, waiting for another kick.

“I don’t know if the baby’s gonna kick again,” you told them.

“Well that’s just not fair,” Jason whined.

“We just need to be patient,” Bruce said. “I’m sure the baby will do it again.”

And sure enough he was right. 

“Oh my God! I felt it! I felt the baby kick!” Dick exclaimed, though he kept the volume of his voice to a low level as if he would scare the baby away if he screamed.

“I wanna feel it too!” Jason cried.

“Here Jay, put your hand there,” you told your youngest as you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a different area of your belly, closer to Dick’s hand.

“Maybe if we keep talking, the baby will kick again,” Dick suggested.

“That’s true, babies can hear us from inside the mother’s belly,” Bruce agreed with him.

“They can?” Jason looked at you quizzically.

You chuckled at his confused face as you brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Yeah they can, it’s not completely soundproof in there,” you answered him.

“That’s why Dad is always talking to your belly?” Dick asked.

You fully laughed at this. “Yes, that’s why Dad talks to the belly. You can too if you wanna.”

“We can?” Dick perked up then leaned closer to your bump. “Hi baby, I’m Dick. Your big brother,” he said.

Jason also leaned forward. “And I’m Jason, I’m also gonna be your big brother.”

“Yeah but I’m the big big brother, I’m the oldest,” Dick argued.

“But I’m gonna be a big brother too!”

“Boys,” Bruce intervened. “No arguing around your mother. The baby will hear enough of that when it joins our lives, let it have its peace while it’s in the womb.”

A series of kicks started at that moment, making Dick and Jason gasp in surprise at the movements they felt under their hands. Bruce turned to you and the two of you shared a look full of love.

“That’s our baby,” he said to you, almost in a whisper, while Dick and Jason continued marvelling at the fact they could feel their sibling.

“That's our baby,” you repeated in confirmation. Nothing could've erased the smiles on both of your lips.

“I love you,” Bruce said against your forehead before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling away to share a short peck on the lips with you.

“Ew! Gross!” Jason interrupted your moment. Your sons weren’t the biggest fans of you and Bruce’s displays of affection for each other.

You giggled at the boys’ antics but still took a second to say “I love you” back to your husband.

“Someone should get Alfred so we can share this moment with him,” you suggested to the kids.

“Not it!”

“Not it!”

Jason and Dick quickly shouted, the former being the fastest to say it.

Dick groaned before he stood up from the couch and jogged out of the living room. The faster he would find Alfred, the faster he would be back next to you. “Alfred! The baby is kicking for the first time!” Dick called through the manor for your butler.

“He knows he doesn’t need to scream, right?” Bruce asked you. “Alfred can hear the boys break something all the way from the other side of the house.”

“Oh, let him be. He’s just very excited about the baby kicking,” you lightly reprimanded him with the corner of your mouth pulling up in a smirk.

You detached your gaze from your husband down to Jason who now had both of his small hands on your belly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and his eyes round with wonder in them.

“This is so cool,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Looks like you’re gonna have some competition Jay, that baby sure is kicking a lot,” Bruce jokingly commented as the kicking didn’t stop.

You chuckled as you remembered all the times you’d stop by the gym room to find Jason relentlessly kicking at Bruce’s punching bag. For a six year old, he already had so much anger pent up inside his little body and it worried you sometimes. But ever since Bruce brought him back to the Manor, Jay had been getting better. The amount of vases thrown at the wall had drastically decreased since then, both to yours and Alfred’s reliefs, and he instead would run to the gym room and let out his anger on the punching bag when needed.

“I can’t wait to play fight with you,” Jason whispered loudly to your belly with a smile.

“No,” you immediately said.

“Best you stick to play fighting with Dick for a couple more years, buddy,” Bruce told your son.

Jason pouted. “But he's always pulling some acrobatic shit–”

“Language!” You scolded him.

“But Ma! Dad and Dick say it all the time!” Jason cried out defensively. “That’s not fair,” he retracted his hands from your belly to cross his arms over his chest.

“Well Dad and Dick, and you too apparently, will not be saying words like that around the baby,” you warned. “Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Jason mumbled.

“Capiche?” You repeated, now glaring at your husband.

“Hey, I’ve really been refraining on the bad words ever since Dick joined us,” Bruce argued but you raised your eyebrows in a way that said this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “Capiche,” Bruce sighed out, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight.

“Master Dick, slow down a little. There’s no need for running,” you heard Alfred’s voice approaching down the hall.

“But Alfred, the baby is kicking!” Dick reiterated.

Your oldest ran in the living room, his hand firmly holding Alfred’s who tried to keep up behind him.

“I heard you the first ten times, Master Dick, the baby will still be there no matter how fast we get there,” Alfred argued.

“Yeah but it might stop kicking,” Dick said and the two sat on the couch to your unoccupied left.

“Don’t worry chum, the baby’s still kicking,” Bruce told him while looking fondly at your belly.

“Please Alfred, feel the baby,” you said to your butler with an inviting smile, grabbing his hand that rested on his knee and gently squeezing it. “We want you to be part of this moment too.”

Alfred’s hand joined the others on your bump and the old man smiled at you and Bruce as he felt the tiny bumps moving around under your skin. “This is sensational.”

“Isn’t it?” You smiled back at him, content to have everyone you wanted to share your baby’s first kicks with.

Your little family of five (soon-to-be six) remained on the couch until the baby grew tired and stopped kicking, much to Dick and Jason’s dismay. Alfred went back to his tasks, the boys to their laptop and book, and Bruce wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you cuddled next to him, watching over your children and just enjoying the normalcy of this Sunday afternoon.

Domesticity used to be rare at the Wayne Manor, but not anymore. And you, for one, were very happy about it.