#maybe i’ll open the ask box again

[ask-claus-and-ninten]

Happy New Year!

[localfanbaselurker]

Watching Voltron:Legendary Defender for the First Time and Recording my Thoughts

S1-2 | S3 | S4 | S5 | you are here! | S7 | S8

<this debrief/review is pretty rant heavy because of how the season personally impacted me, but fret not! i (hopefully) made it to be still enjoyable/fun to read! just a heads up tho!!>

You get to see the “Pre” thoughts before the read more this time! As a treat <3

Pre-S6 Thoughts

->for the most part I think I understand what’s going on with shiro, but I want to really make sure. jussssst in case.

->they gave lance a big focus in season five so hopefully “we” get to see what that’s culminating to. Super excited about that!

->I don’t fw Lotor all that much despite him being the blorbo by proxy (oomf’s fav) but hopefully this season can change that. I’m just beginning to like him (beginning!) and it’s a 400k slowburn melting an ice berg of hate at that. but it’s getting there. soon they’ll hold hands.

->despite my personal enjoyment of allurance, I would be okay with lotura if Lotor got fully redeemed (in the show and in my heart)

-> PLEASE MAKE KEITH COME BACK!! AND WITH HIS MOM!! I’M BEGGING.

->I’ve noticed a sort of pattern where the characters get a specific episode(s) dedicated to them each season (shiro s1, keith s2, keith+allura s3, pidge s4, and lance s5) So hopefully hunk gets his focus episode this season

->I NEED to see what happened after keith found out about krolia

->hopefully more haggar/honerva lore, maybe even lotor lore to redeem him using Tragic Backstory™ points

Post-Season Six

-> what the actual frick.

-> what WAS this season bro.

-> This season had me getting punched,kicked and tortured left and right and up and down and everywhere. the plot twists and dramatic turns and cries and gasps just kept coming

-> this season left me like lance at the climax of a langst fanfic (yk like right b4 they save him and he’s all fucked over)

-> there are lots of things i liked and also SO MUCH i didn’t like this season

-> so pros and cons basically that’s it that’s the “review”

->WE GOT HUNK APPRECIATION!!! HE GOT TO BE THE ENGINEER AND BE SUPER HELPFUL AND ACTUALLY USE ONE OF HIS SKILLS ABDUWBDJSN IM SO HAPPY FOR MY BOY. MY SON. AAAAHHH.

->^LITERALLY LOOK AT HIM!!! HE GOT SOLID CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT TOO!! He reacted much calmer than his s1/2 self would have in a far less stressful situation!!! He grew up!!! HE GREW UPPPP!!

->^He looks like he’s itching to make a gay joke

->why did lance “die” in the first ep?? It was so random and literally served no purpose?? like it was never talked about in the other episodes and was literally just randomly put in the episode’s run time. it had nothing to do with the shield or whatever was going on with Shiro or lotor either

->does it get talked about in the next seasons or?? like it was literally just a throwaway scene

->KEITH AND HIS MOM!!! THEYRE BONDING!!! KEITH MAKES GOOD RELATIONSHIPS!!!!

->the whole “two years” thing is a little difficult to comprehend on all of its layers but I like to think of it positively because that means Keith and krolia got to spend time building upon their relationship and everything that krolia missed, more than just those flashbacks were “memory shared” between them, and keith resolved some of his internal conflicts.

->however it is probably going to make Keith be even more distant with the team because in his mind two years passed while in theirs only like 2-3 months passed from seeing him in person (if you don’t count 5x04 but they barely saw him there) so the relationships that he was building with them have fallen back a little on his part but the others still feel super close to him, so I hope that also gets resolved in s7

-> LANCE IS CUBAN!!! I got super excited you guys don’t understand. maybe you do considering the notes on my post where I said that. But still. I actually squealed so loud when he said it.

-> The mock DnD episode was super fun!! the calm before the storm though I guess

->i looooved the fact that keith came back to the team but that episode pissed me off SOOOOO FREAKING BAD BRO.

->^“we need to attack Lotor when he comes back” OMFGGGGGG NOOOOOOOO THATS literally so STUPID. make a PLAN first you freaking IDIOTS.

->^Literally if they had just played it cool when lotura came back and then told Allura about everything privately THEN stage an intervention/interrogation with Lotor like in Season 5, NONE OF THAT WOULD’VE HAPPENED.

->^but nooooooo we have to be STUPID and ATTACK IMMEDIATELY because PLOT REASONS. istg. don’t get me started this isn’t even the beginning of that rant. I just… *long suffering sigh*

->^and the way they immediately took the altean girl’s word and turned on Lotor? Y’all some fake ass bitches fr didn’t even let the man defend himself. it could’ve been a misunderstanding but okay. damn.

->^WHY ARE YOU INCRIMINATING YOURSELF BRO. OH MY GODDDDDD. every time i told myself that this episode couldn’t get any worse,, it. got. FUCKING. WORSE.

->^low key get the altean girl’s frustration tho because that shit was traumatizing. literally my live reaction right there

-> the only good things that happened that episode were lance calling keith hot and the team meeting krolia. maybe the lotura kiss. (I would’ve enjoyed it more if it wasn’t for the knowledge that they were straight up gonna beat Lotor’s ass when they got inside the castle)

->I guess I have to suffer for the absolute SQUEAL I gave when Kieth went up to the black lion and said “FORM VOLTRON” making them do the thing where they’re divided into 5 frames like a comic

->^that bitch ass clone better be ready to catch these hands. you do NOT say that to my boy.

->I got so excited when keith went all galra! ultimately yeah he did it because he was incredibly stressed but still it was super cool!

-> I was actually a little sad that Lotor didn’t get a real redemption. Like yeah I saw it from a mile away by the way he talked about quintessence and overall attitude but idk,, like him and allura actually seemed in love. even if he was just doing it for the quintessence you could tell he actually ended up genuinely falling in love with her. maybe it’s just me, but i think it would’ve been nice.

-> maybe keith and him could’ve bonded about being half-galra, and keith would finally get some solidarity with someone who knows exactly how he feels? idk it’s just a lot of missed opportunity there.

-> and then they just…kill him off…wow. that was a lot to take in. I had to actually take a moment. I mean it wasn’t even his fault, really. the quintessence got to him just like his parents. it’s actually super tragic now that I think about it. reminds me of family jewels by MARINA.

->I will say though that final battle was absolutely amazing. Beautifully animated and the action was great. I loved getting to see all the lions powers in the quintessence field. And the flaming sword?? that was literally awesome.

-> my hopes of allurance died but i think this is actually a really good step, Allura still felt bad for lotor when she didn’t wanna leave him in the quintessence field because she still loved him and after the conversation she had with the mice it was obvious she doesn’t (and won’t) like lance back, (she could’ve began to in s4/5) and lance seems to accept this as well, (seeing how he handles it when allura confides in him) which would be good for their relationship. so im happy about that 😊

->ngl if they ended it here it could’ve been pretty good, solid ending. Like, leave the rest up to interpretation sort of thing. (Yes I know there are some strings to be tied yet but yk what I mean) The ending was really satisfactory and if they just fixed a couple plot holes it would’ve been the perfect way to end the show tbh. Idk tho I still need to watch the last two seasons so I’ll see if I still keep my opinion then

->lance’s s5 focus didn’t really culminate to all that much, but he got to be taken seriously when he cried about shiro, so there’s that.

-> the clone!shiro vs keith fight was literally beautiful too omg. The emotions were perfectly captured and the flashbacks were just so perfectly timed it was incredible. the way you could just feel exactly everything keith felt as he fought what looked identical to the man who practically raised him was just. wow.

->^literally gorgeous. look at that, man. beautiful.

-> Don’t get me started on “you’re my brother, I love you” because I will start crying immediately

-> So. yeah. This season was a mess. I laughed. I cried (a lot) I got super pissed in the middle. But it was really super enjoyable otherwise. Bittersweet, really.

-> Hopefully Season Seven doesn’t disappoint! I really hope there’s more Keith+Shiro lore. Just. In general all their family lore.

These are thoughts I’ve been compiling for a while. I will continue to post my thoughts on the tag “Laura’s first VLD”

Please Remember that I am just a person with a life and responsibilities and try to be patient about updates.

Thank you 💞

[gingergari]

idk what to draw

[ambros1an]

sunday x reader - halovian courtship

warning: no spoilers, gn! reader, pining/soft sunday, Sunday info dumping as usual

summary: where Sunday will do everything except confess, and you just think he’s emotionally stunted.

a/n: i read about birds for this

halovian courting rituals

1. Gift giving. Like their close bird companions, Halovians participate in 'nuptial gifts,' a form of gift giving to a potential partner.

You were walking into the Oak Family Headquarters, Dewlight Pavilion, sent to deliver some letters. Although, you’ve been here before, it was still a bit nerve wracking to be in such a place, undetached from your usual position as a lower end employee.

The entrance to Oak Family Head’s office was right in front of you. You bite your lip, shifting the documents to your other arm and knock.

“Nightingale Famil-“

The door swings open. The family head holding the door stands to the side.

“Ah,” Sunday says your name, “it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, blinking a couple times. He remembers me?

“Yes, it’s nice to see you again Mr. Sunday. I’ve come with documents from the Nightingale family detailing a new plan for the dreamscape.”

He looks a bit disappointed?

He chuckles, then calls out to a lone employee, “you’re dismissed for today, I’ll take care of the rest.”

The Oak employee dips his head and leaves. Watching him leave fills a pit in your stomach.

“Mr. Sunday, is something wrong?”

Sunday sits up suddenly, “Oh, no. Not at all.” It’s that movement that makes you realize that he’s been fidgeting with something in his lap…Is he always like this?

“I guess I was just a bit surprised,” he smiles, looking down to the side. You caught him.

“Surprised? To see me?” Although Sunday and you have met a few times. It was always business, just like now—well maybe he did stare a bit intently at you before, but something really was different this time!

He looks up and sheepishly slides a box across the table. “Take it as…being a good part of The Family.”

For a few moments, your eyes set upon him. What is he planning? It’s a small box. Almost nothing could fit in there. You lift the top up.

You gasp. Earrings worth more than your entire life’s salary. You slam it shut.

“M-Mr. Sunday. This really isn’t necessary. I just—“ you ramble on. Sunday places his gloved hand on yours.

“Please, take it.”

Looking into his eyes, you realize that putting up a fight with the Oak Head won’t get you anywhere. You reluctantly take the box.

2. Preening. Similar to nature, touching a Halovian's wings is an intimate gesture to show one's interest in a romantic partner. Someone should never touch a Halovian's wings without asking!

Soon after, you come across Sunday again. This time at the Nightingale Family’s institution. You were putting away blueprints, plans and documents your coworkers left laying around haphazardly. When a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Good evening. Working hard, I see.”

“Mr. Sunday?”

He approached you, then looked around the room. He seemed to realize the situation you were in and scorned your coworkers. He mumbled something about you and moving to the “Oak Family.” As he spoke his wings were fluttering. They looked smooth and soft.

“You’ve been staring at my wings. Do they interest you that much?” He chuckles.

“Well, they are very pretty but—“

“Would you like to touch them?” A light blush spreads across his face. Despite that, he seemed perfectly poised. His hands clasped behind his back, standing straight and looking right at you.

“I-is that alright?” tumbles from your lips. You hesitantly reach out.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

Upon touching them, Sunday’s wings twitched away from you before settling down. The feathers are soft and plush. Some are darker in color while others are more pale. They’re surprisingly fluffy. A bit like fur but more delicate.

The blush darkened, his gaze shifted off to the wall. His composure utterly broken, his hands fidgeted behind his back.

“Did you know that birds groom each other as a social activity? It occurs between…ma-members of a flock.” He sputters. What is he saying?

Your fingers stroking his feathers create a flutter within his stomach. He leans into the touch. Taking that as a sign to continue, you reach farther up, a light brush into the coverts of his feathers. Sunday gasps and pulls away.

“…You must take good care of them. Are all Halovian wings soft like yours?”

He wishes that moment would never end.

3. Song. During courtship rituals many birds of different species tend to sing and dance. While that is popular among Halovian people, some may chose show affection through instruments instead.

One day, a notice appears at your door. Upon examining it you realize it’s an invitation from Sunday, instructing you to his office within the Dewlight Pavilion.

Could it be about the documents you sent him last time? You wrack your brain for any possible explanation. He had been acting weirder than usual.

Heat build up in your face upon recalling Sunday’s recent appreciation for you. The earrings that are far too expensive to wear anywhere, and even worse—you bury your face into your hands. In a profound display of unprofessionalism, he let you touch his wings.

Still, every muscle in your body jittered with excitement, even though it shouldn’t.

♫ ♬ ♩

Suddenly, the closer you got, the more the hallway echoed with the sound of a violin. Slowly, you carefully stepped towards the sound, till you found its source.

Sunday was playing the violin. You couldn’t help but freeze where you were and watch him. He truly did look like angel. As he drew his bow across the strings, the light from the window shined down on him. His hair reflected the light appearing almost white. Was he always this beautiful?

Abruptly, he stands up, “You’re early. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you closed the door behind you, “I didn’t know you could play. What song was it?”

He places the violin down on his table and approached you, “It’s ‘Salut d’amor,’ one of the first pieces I learned how to play,” Sunday put his hand behind his back, “the dream master was the one that taught me.”

“It was very pretty, I can tell you’ve been playing for a long time.”

“Thank you.” A light blush spreads onto his cheeks, but it’s gone before you can realize it.

A loud silence sweeps the room. The two of you avert your eyes. This side of Sunday feels so different from what you’ve been told. He always maintains a professional barrier. But if so, what was this?

Sunday calls your name, “how do you feel about me?”

“What?” The question is so out of the blue, you must’ve heard wrong, “I think you’re a nice guy—“

“I meant as a partner, I thought you knew. Was I not obvious enough?” He mumbles over the last sentence.

“I—well—“ you stumble over your words. He was serious. The earrings, the wing touching, the invitation. You dismissed it as him buttering you up. The ‘most handsome man in Penacony’ as delegated by the latest magazines, had feelings for you?

Your face felt so hot, you felt as if you could combust into flames at any moment, “I feel the same.”

His expression softened. “That’s a relief, I don’t have to cancel those reservations then.”

“Reservations?! Mr. Sunday-“

“Just Sunday. I’ll pick you up later then,” he smiled, then placed his hand near your ear, as if looking for something, “Oh, but this time remember to wear those earrings.”

a/n #2: soft Sunday is real, did u see how protective he was of Robin in the quest? i need more hoyo. feed my delusion

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time. 

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take: 

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says). 

And now you. 

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure. 

It’s lingerie. 

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit. 

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly. 

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you? 

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. 

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie. 

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with. 

But he doesn’t want that. 

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him? 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” 

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet. 

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking. 

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly. 

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?” 

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside. 

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all. 

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling. 

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready. 

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.” 

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it? 

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now. 

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed. 

It’s heaven. 

You’re a sight. 

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.   

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you. 

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting. 

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–” 

That’s enough. 

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it. 

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you. 

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring. 

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer. 

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly. 

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry. 

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go. 

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping. 

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.” 

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?” 

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!” 

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?” 

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday. 

.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember. 

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–” 

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[luveline]

Hey lovely !! <3 could we see Spencer’s bombshell! Reader going into labour at the BAU but trying to downplay it like Pam did on the office !! (So sorry if you’ve already done a request like this) <333 have a lovely day ☺️

thank you <3 pregnant!reader, 1.3k

“Spencer?” 

Spencer groans into his pillow. 

Your hand slips onto his stomach. “Spencer, can you wake up?” 

“No,” he mumbles, lifting his head off of one of the many pillows of your bed. He thought his bed at his apartment was comfortable, but Spencer has never slept so well as he does in your new bed, in your new home, with you warming the sheets beside him. What a miracle to live with you, the rush to get everything done before your due date complete. 

You make a strange noise, hard to see in the dark as he opens his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

You struggle into a sitting position. Angel, he thinks sympathetically, you’re fit to burst, your baby bump as big as it’s going to get and awfully heavy. He sits up with you, putting his hand behind your back. “Baby?” he prompts. 

“I think,” —you sound meek, not yourself, each word said reluctantly— “that I’m having real contractions.” 

Spencer’s head isn’t working. He takes a few seconds to hear you, and then another few to realise what you’ve said. “Are you sure?” 

“They’re really painful.” 

Braxton Hicks (which you’ve had, and not enjoyed) aren’t usually really painful. They’re also irregular. “How many have you had? Has it been long?” he asks. 

“Maybe five. They’re like…” You take his hand. “They’re like, they go on for ages. I’ve never felt anything like it.” 

“So you’re in labour,” he says, grasping your hand back. “Definitely. Let me get my watch, I need to time your contractions. Are you okay?” 

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not in labour. I’m going in to labour.”  

“It’s the same thing,” he says. He has boxes and boxes of mental knowledge explaining the difference, but he’s too excited to catch your strange tone. “I’ll be right back.” 

He races from the bed to the bathroom where he’d left his watch. You should be having contractions far apart at this point, around fifteen to twenty minute gaps, but it could be much further or far sooner, and Spencer doesn’t know when you had your last. He needs to time them properly so he knows when to take you to the hospital. 

“Good thing we packed your bag yesterday morning, huh?” he asks, sliding back into bed with a huge smile on his face. “And you showered last night, you’re ready to go. I have all our things in the trunk, but Morgan’s gonna have to come and do the car seat, I forgot all about it.” 

You shake your head again. 

He worries it’s from pain. “Is it starting?” 

“No, no, I’m not having any. I think it’s just cramps, actually.” 

“What?” He puts his hand on your bump. “That’s what they feel like, honey, it’s cramps, it’s your cervix contracting, it feels just like a cramp.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Spencer cups your cheek, his fingertips sliding softly to the corner of your eye, his thumb by your nose. You look younger without any makeup on, younger still with your creeping frown. “Hey,” he says, his voice half breath, hoping you’ll look him in the eye, “hey, what’s going on?” 

Your eyebrows start to pinch down. “It’s not labour.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I’m not having her.” 

“She had to come out some time,” he says, attempting to be funny and lighten the mood. 

“I really think it’s fine. I’m just having those Braxton Hicks again, it’s too far from my due date–”

“Angel, it’s a week away. We knew it could happen now.” He strokes your cheek again. “We don’t have to go yet. Let me time a couple of your contractions and see what we’re working with.” 

“It’s not…” You duck your head. The catch of pain gets you, and Spencer checks his watch. Four minutes past four in the morning, the longest hand at five seconds. Then he looks for your hand again to hold in his, his own panic backseated by your denial. “They’re not that bad,” you say stiffly. 

“That’s good, honey, but they’re going to get worse. Remember what we said, huh? The pain will get really bad, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. We have a plan.” 

“It’s not real.” 

“Baby,” he says, tugging your hand imploringly to his chest, his voice having descended to a place it so rarely goes, “what are you scared of?” 

“That I can’t do it,” you say. 

“Is your contraction over?” he asks, noticing the laxening of your fingers. 

“Yeah.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. 

“Is there anything in the entire world that you can’t do?” 

You sniff. 

“Seriously. I can’t name a single thing you can’t do. This isn’t different. It’s going to be scary and painful, and it’s not something I want for you, not really, but you’re about to have a baby.” He rubs your thumb, ducking his head in the hopes that the movement will make you raise your own. “Our baby. We’ve waited such a long time.” 

“Nine months.” 

“Thirty nine weeks and two days. That's two hundred and seventy five days waiting. This is a good thing,” he says, meeting your eyes the moment you raise your head. “The waiting is over. This is the fun part.”

“‘Cos our girl is coming,” you say. 

He grins. “Exactly! I know you’re scared, but thinking you can’t do it? Of course you can. And I’m gonna be with you the whole time.” 

“You promise?”

“Of course I do.” 

You wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands. Spencer lets his palm fall onto your thigh. It really is going to hurt. It’s gonna be pain like you’ve never felt before, and he’s terrified of everything that could go wrong, but what’s important now is making sure you know you’re going to be alright. 

“You’re going to be a beautiful mom,” he says, rubbing your thigh, softer from time spent resting. “I’m so excited I can’t describe it. This time, the day after tomorrow, we could be here with her. We’ll be putting her down to sleep in the nursery in her newborn onesie we picked out, the–”

“Little rabbits,” you say, the hint of a smile on your lips. 

“I can’t wait to see her face.” 

“Her little fingers.” 

“Her nose, her eyes–”

“You said babies have their moms hands.” 

He smiles. “I have my mom’s. Can you imagine? And we get to find out today.” 

You let him touch your stomach. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You always do.” 

“I’m so scared.” 

“Sweetheart, let me be the scared one.” 

“You’re not gonna dilate ten centimetres!” 

“You’ve probably already done one,” he says. “Just nine more to go.” 

His joke doesn’t land. To his horror, you end up sniffling and locked up with panic. He rubs your back in long sweeps, feeling younger than ever kneeling in bed at your side, minutes droning on. He’s pulling your head into his neck thinking he’s completely out of your depth when you say, “It’s starting again, Spence.” 

He checks his watch. “That’s eleven minutes.” 

Your contractions will get worse soon, and closer together. You probably don’t have long until it starts, and labour might go on for hours. To do this, you're going to have to believe That you can. 

Spencer takes your face into his hands and looks you right in the eyes. “You can do this. I know you can.” He pecks you gently. “Angel, if anyone in the world can do this, it’s you.” 

You take a deep breath. He watches your nerves turn to determination, turn to love. “I know.” 

“Is there anything you need me to do before we start getting ready to leave?” 

You give a soft smile. “Kiss for luck?” 

He’s gonna need it. 

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

“ The Second Son: Blood Stained Bonds ”

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 1

Summary: After his death you left everything behind. You're still Bruce daughter but no longer a part of family. You had a new life and everything was fine, until the day someone left a box outside your door...

Warning: Physically violence/Choking.

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

“You sure you’re ok?” he asked as she kissed him lightly on the lips.

“I’ll be fine,” she said smiling.

He searched her face for a moment before nodding, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be back late.”

As Daniel left, she closed the door behind him and exhaled, her chest tightening. She shook it off, slipping out of her shoes and heading straight for the shower. Maybe hot water would ease the tension coiled in her spine.

The steam filled the small bathroom quickly, clinging to the mirror and fogging the glass. She stepped under the stream, letting the water rush over her skin. It was almost too hot, but she relished the way it scalded, burning away the nerves she carried like an old scar.

She hummed softly, a melody that she didn’t recognize but felt familiar all the same. Her thoughts wandered as the water cascaded over her, but something pulled her back.

A sound.

She froze, water streaming down her face. She strained her ears, her breath catching in her throat.

Nothing.

It was probably nothing. The pipes, maybe. This building wasn’t new, and the plumbing always made strange noises. She shook her head, laughing softly at her paranoia, and returned to her shower.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

She felt it then—the distinct sensation of being watched. Her fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She counted slowly in her head, telling herself she was imagining it, that she was safe. Safe.

The ringing of the doorbell shattered the silence.

She jumped, her heart slamming against her ribs. The water continued to pour over her, but the incessant ringing pulled her focus. It didn’t stop.

“Seriously?” she muttered, cutting the water off and grabbing a towel. Wrapping it hastily around herself, she stormed out of the bathroom, her wet feet slapping against the tile floor.

The ringing continued, grating against her nerves.

“Alright, alright!” she yelled, yanking the door open with more force than necessary. She grabbed the towel, wrapped it tightly around herself, irritation bubbling to the surface. The ringing didn’t stop. Again. Again. Over and over, like whoever was behind the door had nothing better to do than torment her.

“Coming!” she yelled, stomping toward the door, her wet feet leaving angry prints on the hardwood.

No one was there.

Just a box.

She blinked, her gaze dropping to the large cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat. There was no note, no markings, nothing to indicate where it came from or who had sent it.

She sighed, irritation flickering through her. Probably Bruce, she thought, stepping forward and dragging the box inside. She left it by the coffee table, her focus already back on her shower. The towel was damp against her skin, and all she wanted was to feel clean and warm again.

By the time she was out of the shower, dressed in an old sweatshirt and leggings, she’d nearly forgotten about the box. She made a cup of tea, settling onto the couch with the remote, flipping through channels.

Everything was dull. Every show, every movie. Nothing held her attention. Her gaze drifted to the box.

It sat there, innocuous yet somehow foreboding.

She hesitated before setting her tea down and kneeling in front of it. The tape peeled away easily, the cardboard flaps opening to reveal its contents.

Her breath caught.

The first thing she saw was the Batgirl suit.

Her old suit, neatly folded, its colors dimmed by time and wear. Beneath it were other items: a small photograph, trinkets she hadn’t seen in years.

She reached for the photo first.

It was a picture of her and Jason. He was grinning, his arm slung around her shoulders, while she was caught mid-laugh. The memory hit her like a wave. She’d teased him relentlessly that day about his messy hair, and he’d retaliated by messing up hers until they were both in a fit of laughter.

"You look like you just rolled out of bed Jaybird," she said with a smirk, poking fun at him.

Jason rolled his eyes but grinned back. "Says the girl who hasn’t combed her hair in days."

She laughed, flipping her own hair over her shoulder dramatically. And just like that, they’d been caught in a moment of unguarded joy.

Jason, ruffled her hair, making it even messier than before. “There. Now you look like me!” he teased.

She gasped in mock horror, instantly reaching up to fix her hair. “What did you do?”

Her fingers trembled as she set the photo down and reached for the next item. A bracelet he’d made for her—clumsy knots of red and green string. She’d worn it for months until it fell apart.

“You like it?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Of course I do,” she’d replied, smiling softly as she accepted the bracelet. It was clumsy, but in that moment, it felt like the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her.

Then came a note in her handwriting. She remembered writing it, a quick scribble of encouragement before a patrol.

“You’ve got this, Jaybird. Show them what you’re made of.”

“You okay?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft, a rare crack in his usual persona.

She hadn’t answered right away. Instead, she had sat beside him in silence. The hurt from the night before clung to her like a second skin. She hadn’t expected him to do anything—she didn’t need pity. But then, he did something she would never forget.

Without a word, Jason had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. It wasn’t some grand gesture, nothing theatrical. Just a simple, genuine hug. His cheek had rested against her hair, and for the briefest moment, she let herself feel weak. She let the tears threaten to spill.

“I’m here,” he had whispered, and his voice had been steady, warm. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She clutched the note tightly, her chest heaving with silent sobs. The weight of everything she’d buried, everything she’d run from, came crashing down.

She remembered the good moments, the times Jason had made her laugh until her stomach hurt. The way he’d always looked at her, like she was the only person who mattered. The trust in his eyes when she’d told him they could make Bruce proud together.

She wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept coming.

Her gaze drifted back to the box. Something else was in there. Something heavier. She hesitated, her hands trembling as she reached for it.

It was a crowbar.

Bloodstained.

Her breath hitched, and the air seemed to leave the room. She dropped it, scrambling backward, her heart racing.

The shadows in the room seemed to shift, and for the first time, she felt utterly alone.

The phone was cool against her ear as she sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at the opened box on the floor. Bruce answered on the second ring, his voice as steady and deep as she remembered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bruce," she said softly. Her voice cracked despite her best effort to sound normal.

"Y/N." Relief washed over his tone, and she could almost see him leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I didn’t think you’d call back so soon."

She smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I’ve been meaning to. Just... been busy."

There was a pause, the kind that stretched uncomfortably long. Bruce, for all his control, didn’t handle emotional conversations well.

"How’s the family?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Bruce seemed to relax at the shift in focus. "They’re doing well. Dick had taken over Blüdhaven. Tim’s been working on a new case—too much, if you ask me. And Barbara’s focused on her tech projects."

"And Alfred?"

"Still the same. Still trying to make me take a day off. But he missed you. Everyone does." There was a faint smile in his voice now. "How about you? How’s university?"

"It’s good," she replied, twirling a strand of her damp hair. "They say I'm good, if I continue like that I will be a certified doctor."

"I’m proud of you," Bruce said quietly.

Her throat tightened at the sincerity in his words. "Thanks," she murmured. "And Daniel’s great. He’s... he’s good to me."

Bruce didn’t respond immediately, and she could hear the faint hum of the Batcave in the background.

"You’ve built a good life for yourself," he said finally. "But Gotham will always be your home, Y/N. You’ll always have a place here. You’ll always be my daughter."

Her smile faded, and she bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. "I can’t come back, Bruce," she said, her voice trembling. "Not after what I did."

"Y/N..." His voice softened in a way that was rare for him. "It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you both."

She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. "I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. Jason—" Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard.

"Jason wouldn’t want you to carry this guilt," Bruce said firmly. "Neither do I. You didn’t fail him, Y/N. I did."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. She looked at the box on the floor again, her gaze locking onto the crowbar.

"Bruce," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "That box you sent—"

"What box?"

Her stomach dropped. "The one with my Batgirl suit. And... other things." She hesitated, her voice growing unsteady. "There was a crowbar in it, Bruce. It was bloodstained."

"I didn’t send you anything," Bruce said, his tone sharp now. "Y/N, what are you talking about?"

Her heart began to race. "You’re telling me you didn’t send it? You don’t know about the box?"

"No. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

The sound of glass shattering made her jump, and her head snapped toward the kitchen.

"Y/N?" Bruce’s voice was urgent, but she barely heard him.

"Something broke," she said, her voice distant. "I’ll call you back."

"Wait—"

She ended the call, her hand trembling as she set the phone down. Her gaze flicked to the crowbar lying on her desk.

Swallowing her fear, she grabbed it, the cold metal heavy in her hand. Slowly, she moved toward the kitchen, her bare feet silent against the floor.

The house was eerily quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards under her weight. She tightened her grip on the crowbar, her pulse hammering in her ears.

When she reached the kitchen, she hesitated, her breath hitching as she peeked around the corner.

The window was open, a chilly breeze fluttering the curtains.

Her eyes darted to the broken mug on the floor and the small, furry figure perched on the counter.

A cat jumped down from the counter, its fur bristling as it hissed at her before darting out the open window.

She exhaled shakily, her knees threatening to give out. She lowered the crowbar, leaning against the counter as her heartbeat gradually slowed.

“Just a cat,” she muttered to herself. “Just a stupid cat.”

But the feeling didn’t leave her.

The sensation of being watched lingered, a prickling at the back of her neck. She glanced around the room again, her grip on the crowbar tightening.

“Stop it,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re just imagining things.”

She turned back to the box in the living room. Her mind raced with possibilities. If Bruce hadn’t sent it, then who had?

Joker?

No. It had been years. He had no reason to come after her now. But the thought nagged at her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

She glanced at the crowbar again, her stomach twisting. She needed to talk to Bruce.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t over.

She felt it before she saw it. The impact of something heavy hitting her, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her vision was distorted, the world around her a wash of blurry shapes and smears. Everything was red—vivid, suffocating red that stained her mind and her skin, pressing down on her like an iron weight.

She was screaming, but the sound wasn’t hers.

She couldn’t breathe. The air was thick, suffocating, and she gasped for it, but it was as if her lungs couldn’t fill. Something—someone—was there, near her. She could hear him, his voice rising above.

His voice.

It was faint at first, but then it became clearer, cutting through the disarray.

“Don’t… don’t… please!”

Jason...

His voice, strained and desperate, barely reaching her through the fog in her mind.

“Please, please don’t... Don’t do this!”

She tried to focus, to clear the haze in her head. But it was so hard. What’s happening? Everything felt so wrong. Was he crying? Was he... begging?

Wait.

Why was he begging? Why was he crying?

His voice broke, and it stabbed her like a knife. Don’t cry, she thought, almost absently. Don’t cry, Jason. It’s not your fault.

He didn’t want her to be hurt.

Her chest tightened at the thought, and her vision flared with red-hot pain.

Why are you crying, Jason?

His voice broke through again, desperate, louder this time.

“Y/N!”

Her pulse stuttered at the sound of her name, raw with agony. She wanted to reach out, but her hands wouldn’t move. The world spun faster, and she couldn’t stop it. The walls around her were closing in.

She tried to focus on him—on his voice—but everything was blurring again. Why was he crying? Why was he… Why was he yelling?

It’s my fault, she thought desperately. I’m the one who did this. I ruined everything.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, everything went still.

She gasped for breath, but her body wouldn’t obey. Her chest constricted, and she tried to scream again, but the world around her was just too far away. The red haze thickened.

And then, everything went black.

She awoke with a start, gasping as though she had been submerged underwater. Her body trembled violently, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving for air.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

What was that?

She sat up in bed, her eyes wide as she tried to steady her breath. She hadn’t had a nightmare like that in so long. She thought she was done with them. But that voice… Jason’s voice, still echoing in her ears. The sound of his crying. The desperation. The guilt.

A soft ringing broke through her daze. The doorbell.

It was raining outside, the soft patter of the storm barely reaching her through the walls.

She stood slowly, wiping the sweat from her brow as she grabbed the crowbar from beside her bed. There was something about the ringing that set her nerves on edge. Something... wrong.

She moved cautiously down the stairs, every step creaking beneath her. Her hand gripped the crowbar tightly, knuckles white. She stopped at the door, staring at the peephole, but saw nothing—just the darkness of the storm.

She swallowed hard and turned the handle, swinging the door open.

Empty.

Her breath escaped in a shaky laugh as she shook her head. She was being paranoid.

Just a mistake. Just the wind. Or maybe a neighbor…

She laughed at herself again, weakly. How stupid could she be?

She started to close the door, her hand gripping the handle, when a sudden force slammed into her.

Her breath was crushed out of her as a hand gripped her throat, yanking her backward with brutal force. The crowbar fell from her hand, clattering uselessly to the floor as she was slammed against the door with such force that the wood shook.

She couldn’t breathe. Her hands flew to her neck, scratching, clawing at the hand that was squeezing the life out of her.

Everything was a blur, her vision fading in and out. But there were two eyes—two wild, unhinged eyes—staring at her through a mask of red. A twisted, maniacal grin was visible beneath the blood-streaked fabric. She gasped, her lungs screaming for air, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break free. She was weightless now, her feet no longer touching the floor as the pressure on her throat intensified.

She kicked out, her feet uselessly struggling to find purchase. Her vision began to dim, a ringing in her ears drowning out the world. Everything was spinning. The edges of her vision were dissolving into darkness.

Is this how it ends?

Her throat tightened, her eyes burning with the effort of holding onto consciousness.

Is this it?

Her thoughts flickered. The coldness of the hand around her neck, the darkness closing in, everything felt too heavy, too wrong. She had no strength left. Her muscles screamed in protest, but they didn’t obey.

Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her sight. Her lungs burned with every desperate, ragged breath.

And then, the grip released.

She crumpled to the floor, gasping for air as her vision swam and her chest heaved.

Through the haze, she looked up, but everything was dark, save for the faint outline of a figure standing above her. She could barely make out the shape of a face, the contours of a body, but there was one thing she saw clearly.

Two eyes.

Green.

Tears filled those eyes, glistening in the dim light, staring at her with an intensity she couldn’t understand.

They were familiar.

But she couldn’t place them.

She blinked, but everything was slipping away.

Her mind was going blank, her body growing colder by the second. The last thing she saw was the figure, the two green eyes... and then, everything went dark again.

Next: Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[bangytell]

close friends

Summary: Your best friend and roomate who's been keen over you for a long time.

Genre: friends to lovers, smut, slight fluff, nsfw

Rated: +18, mature

Pairing: Jungkook x f! reader

Word Count: 3,015 k

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, oral sex (f! receveing), use of pet names, non idol! au, rough sex, creampie, cuddles.

a/n: Working on this for soo long, enjoy!!

The rumbling noises from across the room had you becoming more and more annoyed by this agreement. Your roommate, being his horny self practically begging, to let him have sex in his dorm. 

“C’mon [name] promise i’ll put on music you won’t even notice.” he said with that stupidly beautiful bambi eyes and that dazzling smile that makes you weak on the knees, how to say no to that. 

You feel the regret soon enough, some girl was shouting, literally leaving her lungs on every shout, not even the music was loud enough. He wasn’t that good, was he? Of course you already knew the answer to that question… but kept your mind out of it.

The next morning, while you were making breakfast, the girl popped into your kitchen, pleading loudly for your roommate's company. She froze right on the spot when she saw you.

“Uhm… excuse me, who are you?” her tone was bitter with her high pitched voice as she held a look of disgust.

“Jungkook’s roommate.” you said, calmly stirring the pan with scrambled eggs.

“I’m making sure that changes.” you scoff as you see her turn around on her toes back to Jungkook.

Jungkook opened his door and made his way to the kitchen, greeting you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I met your lovely and amazing guest.” your tone dripped with sarcasm and he sighs as he runs a hand through his locks.

“What did you say?” his voice is slightly exasperated and you scoff with your gaze down on the pan.

“Why, would you even- “ you stopped your words at his condescending look on you “yeah, fair play, but wasn’t me this time, i swear.” he sighs and heads straight into his room, you hear the whining all the way to the kitchen and scoff.

Once at your office the day goes by with ease, 5 minutes before your leave time, Jungkook sent you a text.

A bright smile lights your temple as your co-worker reaches your desk.

“What puts you in such a good mood?” he asks as you take your bag to leave.

“Oh nothing, I just remembered the hell waiting for me at home.” he chuckled with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Another of your roommate’s flings?” he asked with a sly grin as you both walked out of the office.

“He’s been talking ‘bout this girl for ages, he won’t shut up about her.” he chuckles again and you scoff

“You’re jealous.” you roll your eyes with a defiant look on him.

“Why should I be jealous, I have known him since I was 18.” your friend laughed once more while you both reached the parking lot.

“Maybe that’s why you’re so jealous, you’ve been dying to get under his sheets for God knows how long.” you look at him in despite.

“I'm under the impression you’re not that content at the moment.” you both chuckle as he waves goodbye and shouts. “See you tomorrow!!” He's always so energetic. 

Once at home, you change into your pjs as you hear the door open followed by some muffled voice sounds. 

You hear the way he laughs, and walk out to the living room as the image of him clinging to her makes your heart ache. 

“Hey doll” he greets me when he notices me.

“Oh hey Koo.” I sit on the couch as the girl looks at me with disgust.

“Why do you talk to her like that?” the girl spits out and I look over at her.

“Just a playful banter between each other.” Jungkook whispers and she scoffs.

“Don’t call her that” she commands and I look at him.

“I’m starving.” you take a pizza from the box and take a bite as Jungkook grabs the remote to put a movie.

"How was work today Koo?” you murmur at his way once you swallow the bite.

“The usual stuff prin-... [Name] you know how it gets. "you chuckled softly when you noticed his slipped words.

“You’re not asking me?” the girl chimes in with her high pitched whiny voice as the movie begins. 

“How was your day?” you asked, looking at her.

“It was a great day actually, until I got here thinking I would get to be with my boyfriend alone.” a low chuckle escaped your lips at her snarky comment.

“Sorry to crash your dream.” you turn to look over at Jungkook “But you know what…” you trailed off and stood to walk inside your room, you emerged with a pair black sweatpants and a black jacket “I’ll go drive a little.” you looked over at Jungkook. “Text me when I can come back.” 

“Are you sure [Name]?” you gaze at him and nod as you stand at the door frame.

“Yeah, I kinda need to hop on my bike.” You chuckled slightly and stepped outside as the light breeze hit your face, the bike roared to life between the traffic for an hour until your phone buzzed in the pocket of your sweatpants, the phone ringing, you steer the bike to a corner and take the phone to your ear.

“Hey Koo!” he chuckles softly his voice comes through the phone low and hoarse.

“Hey princess, my guest is gone now… I think we need to talk.” you sighed softly and nodded even though he couldn't see you and responded with an equally low voice.

“Yeah we need to talk, be there in five” you hanged up after your goodbyes and drove to the apartment, you parked the bike at the parking lot and opened the door to see him sitting at the couch.

“Koo.” He looks up at you with a soft smile, a few tears running through his cheeks, at the sight, you kneeled in front of him on the floor. “Hey… what’s wrong, love?” he sobs slightly as your cold hands cup his cheeks.

“We fought and she left… basically dumped me.” you let out a soft sigh and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Was it because of me?” your voice is a low whisper against his ear he sighs and shakes his head on your shoulder.

“No… well a little.” he murmurs with a hoarse voice. “That’s what I need to tell you.” he pulls back to lock gaze with you.

“You can tell me anything” your voice is a low murmur and caresses his face gently.

“She dumped me because…” he trails off, shutting his eyes closed to your gentle strokes. “I've known you almost my whole life, right?” he mutters with a strained voice.

“Basically yeah, what about that?” your voice is a low and intimate whisper.

“She thought that I might have feelings for you” you let out a slight chuckle. 

“That can’t be” I look into his eyes, his features turn serious as he looks at you. “It can’t be, right?” your voice is a low murmur and he nods slowly.

“I do have feelings for you…” he mutters and you feel your breath stuck in your throat.

“Y-... You what?” you mutter in a stutter. “Jungkook uhm… think this through” 

“I have, for the past half hour, she left the first ten minutes, okay?” you look up to his eyes. 

“Go to sleep Koo, i’m sure…”  he grabs your face to catch your attention, your heart pounding heavily on your chest as his doe eyes lock with yours. 

“I’m sure princess, I'm confident of what I just told you.” he murmurs softly and almost lovingly.

“Y-...You must be confused Koo.” you mutter in a stutter and he stands and guides you into his room, she shuts the door behind him and your eyes roam his room, neat and clean.You see a picture of his graduation from college with you in it.

“See that picture?” you simply nod, your mind filled with thoughts. “You gifted it to me, with something written on the back.” he murmurs as he holds the picture in his hands “I’ll be there to follow your dreams, even to just rest on your back, be sure to keep going.” you keep your gaze at him attentively as he recites the inscription by memory. 

“That was like 4 years ago, how can you remember?” you murmured softly.

“I read it when I feel down.” he murmurs and goes to one of his drawers to pull a night light “Remember this one? You gave it to me when we were little.” you nod and a small smile appears on your lips.

“Yeah, you were afraid of the dark so… I gifted it to you, you still keep it?” he nods and places it back on his drawers, he goes to another one and pulls an old pantie of yours, you blushed slightly as he showed them to you.

“Remember this one?” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. 

“Y-...Yeah, it was from our first night here… we got wasted.” you murmured with a deeper shade of red on your cheeks as he grins smugly. 

“We got intimate and I kept it, just as a reminder.” you let out a soft embarrassed chuckle. 

“That was two years ago Koo, and we talked about it.” you murmur softly and avoid his gaze, he walks closer to you leaving the panties on his bed. 

“You’re not getting my point here princess.” he holds your chin in between his fingers to tilt it up so you look up to him and pulls you closer by the waist with his free hand, you’re flushed as a tomato as his warm and taut body press flushed against yours.

“I clearly ain’t.” your voice is a low murmur, your breath almost brushing his face. 

“I kept all those things because I liked you.” you look into his doe eyes, searching for a hint of playfulness but find none, he holds you tightly and secure pressed against him “Like actually sounds a little, I’m in love with you.” you blinked in disbelief and your breath stuck on your throat.

“Y-...You’re i-...in love w-...with me?” you mutter in a stutter and he nods pressing your bodies closer.

“So much it pains me, and I'm sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” you blinked slowly as if that will help to settle the turmoil inside you, he takes a strand of your hair behind your ear with a gentle graze over your skin and you close your eyes to his touch. 

“You’re in love with me…” you repeat in a murmur to try and believe him “I have to go to bed.” you mutter and let go of his arms to lock myself in your room, he stands there with his heart in his hand as you shut the door behind you, he stays inside his own room as you lie down there looking at the ceiling.

Why didn’t you just tell him you liked him back? What are you…? your thoughts trail off as you listen to soft moans and whimpers in the house, You know those moans and whimpers, you stand from the bed and sneak outside to find Jungkook with the old panties against his own member masturbating himself, he looks at the door, as if he expected you come out, he grins when he looks at you, you should move away, walk back to your room but your feet fail you and you remain stiff on his slight open door.

“You’re just watching or want to help me?” he asks in a hoarse and husky voice, you chuckled nervously but decide to step in as he continues “Just watching then?” he murmurs hoarsely and strained as you sit at the edge of the bed, looking attentively to his actions, his throbbing cock dripping my underwear with pre cum as he moans softly. “I like to have you as a spectator.” his voice strained with desire.

“You’re such a tease.” he chuckles huskily and keeps his movements.

“You can always join me princess.” You slowly undress yourself and take the old panties to discharge them to the floor as your body straddles his, you feel his warm and throbbing cock slide in your folds as he introduces himself with ease, his hands gripping your hips tightly with a shaky sigh of comfort and satisfaction. “You feel so good doll” he murmurs looking up at you.

“Were you serious about being in love with me?” you asked in a strained murmur as you begin to grind on his body, his grip on you almost bruising. 

“Of course love, I’m so in love with you…” he murmurs and bites back a moan as you ride him. “You don’t have to say it back.” he murmurs, locking eyes with you. 

“I-...I’m in love with you too.” you mutter under your breath and he lets out a soft growl and pulls your body to a hug and you sigh at the feeling of his sweating and taut chest.

“I really am lovestruck.” he chuckles softly and rests himself on the bed again “I could stay like this all night with you…” he murmurs lovingly and moves his hips to meet your own movements and you moan softly.

“We can do it more than once…” you murmur hoarsely increasing the speed of the movements, a low growl escapes his mouth.

“Y-...You’re killing me princess.” he murmurs hoarsely and lustfully.

Your eyes roam at his tattoo filled arm, his disheveled state with a small smile, your voice is a low whisper.

“Koo…” your hands find their way to cup his face, your eyes full of affection. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I don’t know baby… I never thought you liked me back” he whispered softly with a strained tone.

‘Doesn’t matter now.” he nods at your murmured words and lifts you easily to turn you around, his member leaving the warmness of your folds as he pins your body in all fours against the mattress, your face tilts to the side so you’re able to breathe, his rough hands massaging your bottom, he growls at the sight and leans closer to you to press his chest and whisper softly against your skin, his mouth leaving soft and wet kisses along your spine.

“You’re still on the pill princess?” you can simply nod as a low moan escapes your lips from his hands all over your back, he lets out a soft hum and slowly introduces himself back, he thumps against you hard, loud moans escapes your mouth as his hand holds both your wrist to your back. “You like it like this princess?”.

You let out a soft “Yes” as he continues his movements, a low hum escaping his lips, his hands keeping your body pinned down to the bed. 

He exits from you and shifts his body to rest his back on the headboard as he guides you on top of his face. “Let me eat you out.” his voice is a command, you accommodate yourself in between his body, leaving your cunt on display for him, his hot breath fanning against it as he slowly tilts his head back to dart his tongue along your folds, a low moan escapes your mouth at the feeling, your hands grip his headboard as he skilfully nibs on your cunt.

You’re a breathless moaning mess as he holds you by the hips, he’s never done this to you, but you understand now why all the girls he brought over were shouting about, you feel your orgasm creep in your stomach, your legs quiver as he helps hold you in place, soon with loud moans you ride his face into an orgasm, he continues savoring you with a low growl and slowly helps you down from him, you’re disheveled and he grins smugly at the sight as he graze your cheek.

“I’m nowhere near done with you doll…” he whispers with a hoarse voice as he once again shifts you both to pin you down on the bed. 

You’re again in all fours as he rocks against your body, his warm and throbbing cock inside you, by this your moans are loud, he grabs your ass tightly against his palm, massaging the flesh with a gentle yet possessive touch, he seems unable to control himself any longer to the sound of your whines and moans as he thrust his cum into you with a guttural moan.

With care and slowly he pulls himself back from inside you, his cum dripping down from inside you until it reaches his bed and he chuckle hoarsely with a curse under his breath, he stands and pulls his underwear as he grabs a towel and helps cleaning you, you have your breathless face hidden in the bed as he helps you lie down in your back again.

“How about a shower, gorgeous.” he leans down to press a soft kiss on your temple with a small smile, you nod with a breathless chuckle.

“A needed shower.” you whisper as your eyes find him and you both burst into a hearty laughter. “That no condom thing was quite irresponsible, I don’t know where that girl’s been.”

He chuckles slightly and shifts his body to lie down beside you.

 “Only inside of me, doll.” he winks at you and you smack him playfully.

“Now I'm disgusted.” he laughs heartily and helps you up the bed to the shower, his hand around your waist as you both get to the bathroom.

As you both settle into the warm water he holds his small bunny smile as you leather your hair with shampoo.

“What’s with that smile of yours?” you ask in a soft voice and he chuckles.

“I’m just really happy.” His voice is soft and he keeps that smile you love, he gives you several small kisses along your face, his hand cupping your face.

“You still need to take me on a date.” he nods as he continues to smooch your face under the water, a soft happy giggle escaping your lips, this definitely was the happiest you’ve been.

©️bangytell please do not copy or steal my work, any translation can’t be done this is the only way to read it.

[clockwayswrites]

Wibirbs Wobble Part 15

masterpost

Bruce stood, along with most of the theater as Cass and her dance partner came onto the stage to join the rest of the Cass. Bruce was so proud of her. Despite everything Cass had been through, she had grown to be such a kind, confident young lady. For her not only get up on a stage and dance but to also be the one of the leads was truly a testament to how hard she had worked to find a life she wanted.

Next to him, Danny stood, wavered, and ended up right back in his seat.

“Danny?”

“I’m fine, watch your daughter,” Danny said. He waved one hand dismissively at Bruce while he rested his forehead in the other.

He’d gone alarming pale.

Reluctantly, Bruce turned back to applaud one last time. As soon as the curtains closed, Bruce took a knee in front of Danny’s chair.

“I’m fine,” Danny tried again.

“You look like a ghost,” Bruce argued and took Danny’s wrist.

Danny covered a snort of laughter with his other hand.

Danny’s pulse fluttered weakly under Bruce’s fingers. “We should get you to an urgent care—”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. Even his smile looked a little weak. “I just need a moment.”

Bruce doubted that a moment would help much. “I’m worried about your pulse.”

“You caught that?” Danny asked, question curious and not at all concerned.

“I was studying to be a doctor at once point,” Bruce pointed out dryly.

“You were? Hum, maybe I’ve heard that before? I don’t really know,” Danny said before he shook his head a little. (The movement did Danny’s coloring no favors.) “But okay look, I know about my pulse issues. I’m having a bit of a bad… few weeks right now, but I’ll be fine. I’ve already seen my doctor about it. I get how it seems concerning, and yeah I need to keep taking it easy a bit, but this is pretty normal for me. I have some complications from an accident when I was a kid.”

Bruce frowned, searching the words for a lie.

There wasn’t one, even if there also wasn’t much information.

“At least let us offer you a ride home then,” Bruce insisted. He continued quickly when it seemed Danny would protest. “It really won’t be an issue and it would make me feel better to know you got home safe.”

Danny’s lips pressed together thinly.

Bruce pulled out the big guns. “And Cass would hate it if you were hurt from coming to see her perform.”

“Does she have everyone wrapped around her finger?” Danny asked, lips quirking into a little smile.

“Basically since she arrived,” Bruce said wryly. He stood and offered Danny both his arms, palms up. “Please stand carefully. If you go over the edge of the box I’ll have to drive to save you or something equally dramatic.”

“We would make the papers for sure,” Danny said. His grip was concernedly shaky as he wrapped his hands around Bruce’s forearms, but he stood in a smooth motion, even if he ended up basically leaning against Bruce’s chest. Danny stepped back after a second, cheeks dusted with red. “Okay, should I just… wait for you out front?”

“It’s adorable how you think I’m letting you out of my sight,” Bruce said. He rested his hand lightly on the small of Danny’s back and started to guide the other out of the box. “Again, you falling over the edge of the box, down the stairs, dramatically onto some absurdly pointy bit of Gotham architecture— these are all things I am not going to take a risk of happening to you.”

“You are such a father.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Bruce said honestly as they took the back stairs down to avoid the crowd.

“Oh, well, more of just a statement? But definitely not an insult,” Danny insisted.

They were tucked slightly close together until the stairs opened up into a sitting room that was kept aside traditionally for those in the boxes. Tonight the Wayne name had kept it aside for for Bruce, his family, and their close friends. Well, and Danny, Bruce mused as he made the other sit down on the sofa that purely for looks and not comfort.

Bruce poured a glass of the recently refreshed water and brought it over to Danny.

“I really will be alright,” Danny said, but took the glass and a long sip. His color was a little better after some water. “I’ve been dealing with some level of this for… huh, almost twenty five years now. I sorta hadn’t realized that it had been so long… but anyways, that means I’m used to it.”

Bruce rested on the arm of the sofa. “Just because you’re used to it, that doesn’t mean that you have to bear it alone.”

Danny gave a little shrug. “But I do, Bruce, or a lot of it at least. I live alone after all.”

The door burst open as the room was swarmed with a multitude of Waynes and might-as-well-be-Waynes. It left Bruce without any time to respond to that and grateful, as he watched his family pile into the room, that he had been lucky enough despite everything to not end up alone.

Tim was the one who paused, as if just noticing Danny, before shaking his head. “Right, the engineer Cass invited! Hi, I’m Tim. I intern at WE so you might see me around there too. Well, not that you won’t see the others, but I mean that you might see me more often.”

“Nice to meet you Tim, though I don’t know how often you’ll be down by engineering,” Danny said.

Danny had a bit of a tight grip on the glass in his hands, but Bruce supposed it was a great deal of people very suddenly. There was something though…

“Oh, Tim is also a huge nerd,” Steph said as she threw her arm over Tim’s shoulder. “He likes to tinker so you might be surprised. Trust me, I’m his ex.”

“We only dated for months,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s Stephanie, a family friend,” Bruce cut in before things got far too out of hand. “You know Dick and this is Barbara, who he mentioned. Jason, my second oldest, is in the back with his boyfriend Roy, Duke is next to them, and this is Damian, my youngest.”

“Greetings,” Damian said. His tone was sever, but far more curious than cutting. Bruce was proud of the growth even if there was still more work to be done.

“Hello everyone. Like Tim said, I’m Danny,” Danny said with a little smile that was mostly real with just a bit of polite company strain. “Cass spent an afternoon in my office chatting with me. I suppose since we talked so much about the show, she invited me to see it. Sorry to invade your family time though, I didn’t know I would be doing that.”

“That’s just how this family goes,” Barbara said with a soft chuckle. “Trust me, I’ve been around them long enough to know how they absorb people.”

“Way to make us sound nefarious, Barbie,” Jason grumbled.

“No, no, you guys are,” Roy said casually. “It’s in a good way, sure, but you’re still sorta nefarious and you definitely absorb people. This isn’t even everyone.”

“Have I apologized for them already?” Bruce asked, though he supposed the fond warmth in his words ruined the intent.

Luckily Danny just gave a soft laugh. “Don’t. The best sort of family and friendships all have a good helping of chaos and malarkey.”

“Malarkey?” Steph repeated.

“It’s a good word, illiterate ingrate,” Jason defended.

The room dissolve into chaos and Bruce turned to apologize again only to find Danny watching the group with a small but fond smile.

[skeltnwrites]

Bad Cop - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wake to a call from your boyfriend Eddie who asks you to bail him out of jail. 

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: interactions with police, mild injury, talk of fighting and bullying, sexual innuendos 

A/N: I might be a little late to the Eddie Munson party but I’m here now! :D

“This is a collect call from Edward Munson at Hawkins Police Station. Will you accept the charges?” 

You clear your throat but your voice still feels raw when you speak, “Yes.” 

“Please hold,” the operator says. 

A trilling sound as you wait, twirling the phone cord anxiously. You’d been tucked in bed a minute ago, dead to the world. The phone rang loud enough from the kitchen to startle you awake. You caught the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand as you kicked the blankets off, just after one in the morning. 

“Y/N?” His voice is soft under the crackle. 

“Edward.” It’s not angry per se but you never use his real name which is telling.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Are you okay?” you sigh, tipping your head till your forehead meets the wallpaper. 

“I’m sorry— I’m fine. I just, can you bail me out please.” 

“What happened, Eds?” 

“Just a stupid fight. Nothing serious, I promise.” He pleads like you won’t believe him and doesn’t give you a chance to press for details, “There’s cash in a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet. On my side, all the way in the back.” 

You want to scold him but you're still kneading sleep from your face, irritated now that you know he’s okay. You bite your cheek, considering the possibility of an argument. Knowing that it shouldn’t take place through a phone. 

“You’re sure? It’s enough?” 

“Swear.” 

“Okay, on my way.”

He apologizes again before the line clicks. 

You shuffle through the band tees he’s grown out of and have since been neglected to the back of your shared closet. You make a mental note to remind him to drop some off at Goodwill. Under a stack of vinyls, you locate the box with a rolled wad of twenties held together by a rubber band. You snap the band, biting your lip. It’s enough to buy something expensive, really expensive. You jam your heel into a laced sneaker and do not bother to change out of your pajamas. The money is pushed deep into your pocket along with the house keys. You shake away arising questions as you start the van. 

Cold air smacks your bare arms as you push open the station door. You blink rapidly at the fluorescents. An officer hands you a clipboard, you sign two dotted lines, and fork over most of the cash. He retreats to a separate room without a word, presumably to retrieve your boyfriend, leaving you alone in the lobby. 

Your arms pillow your head on the counter until a familiar set of steps rounds the corner. His eyes, big and sorry, find yours instantly. But your attention quickly shifts to the marbled purple and blue highlighting the arch of his cheek. The stern speech about bar fights and bail payments you’d rehearsed on the way flees your throat. He brushes past the counter to hug you and you spot a split lip too. Your shoulders deflate as you meet him halfway. 

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles into your crown. 

You give his waist a quick squeeze before pulling back. His hands chase the goosebumps from your skin as you scan his face. His curls are frizzy which is typical but more disheveled like he’s been running his hands through them. Your nail traces his lower lip where it was clearly cracked open but is now glazed over with a layer of dry blood. “Lose any teeth?” 

He smiles, pearls still intact, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad. His breath smells faintly of alcohol as he says, “You look tired.”

“I am so tired,” you admit. 

He grits his teeth guiltily, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

An officer clears his throat and passes Eddie a brown paper bag with ‘Munson’ scribbled on the front. He snatches the bag with a wink. The man offers nothing but a blank stare, maybe mild disapproval as Eddie pivots and jogs toward you, already at the door. He fishes for his lighter from the bag, kissing and pocketing it as you step outside. 

“Can I drive?” Eddie reaches for the keys in your hand. You always let him drive. 

You snatch the carabiner to your chest, elbowing his side, “Are you trying to get a DUI too?” 

“I had one beer,” he scoffs as you unlock the door. 

You believe him but pretend not to as you hop in the driver's seat. “You’re a criminal now. Can’t be trusted!” You yell playfully before slamming the door as he jogs around the hood. 

“Very funny,” he mutters as he climbs in. 

You sling your arm over his seat to back out. The streetlight accentuates the bruise when you glance past him. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Hmm?” 

You point at your own cheek. 

“Oh, no. It’s fine. Should’ve seen the other guy,” he chuckles. 

“We’ll ice it when we get home,” you pull out onto the main road before settling your gaze back on him. “So who was the other guy?” 

His eyes roll in your peripherals, “So Shelly Watkins was there—“ 

“You hit Shelly Watkins?” 

“Jesus! No! Her stupid boyfriend Rob Perry.” He groans in disgust. “You remember him? He was such a dick in high school!” 

You shake your head, trying to recall. 

“He’s a couple of years older I think. Well anyway, Shelly was blabbing her big mouth, as usual, about Robin and her new girlfriend.” 

“What was she saying?” You interrupt, curious but inferring already. 

“Nasty shit. And she’s talking so loud the whole bar can probably hear. I mean, I couldn’t not say anything, babe. And hey,” he throws his hands up in surrender, “All I said was ‘Seems like what other people do in their spare time isn’t your business.’” 

You smirk, knowing it was not as polite as he made it out to be. 

“And Rob is all ‘What did you say?’” Eddie teasingly lowers his voice, foot hiked up in his seat to face you with a finger curled under his nose like a mustache. 

You steal glances from the road to watch the theatrics as he retells the story, making sure to emphasize when he punched Rob square in the nose so hard it broke. 

“Did you win?” You ask, attempting to hide your proud grin by checking your blind spot. 

“Oh yeah.” Eddie crosses his arms, accidentally nicking the wound on his lip with his nail as he retracts the faux finger stache. He winces, tapping the cut to assess the damage. Fresh blood coats his finger; he’s quick to press his whole hand over his mouth as he fumbles through the glovebox with the other. A deck of fast food napkins you’d organized spills out. You catch one before it falls, crumpling it into his free hand and swerving back into your lane. He replaces his hand with the thin sheet, wiping his fingers on another napkin off the floor as you pull up to a stoplight. 

He tips his head like a puppy when he catches you staring. You lick your thumb, smearing a stray drop crawling down his chin. Your palm lingers on his skin, rubbing circles behind his ear as the light flicks green. 

It’s not long before you pull into the driveway and unlock the front door. Eddie holds a third napkin to his face. You consider going to the ER for stitches as you toss the keys on the counter and snatch a Ziploc bag from the cabinet. 

Two lines of light form a skewed L in the hall from the cracked bathroom door; A silent message that you are allowed to come in. It squeaks familiarly loud on its hinges but Eddie doesn't acknowledge you. 

He focuses on his reflection as he peels the napkin away hesitantly. The blood has stopped but his lip looks swollen and angry. You hook a finger through his belt loop, tugging him until he turns. You nudge the bag of ice to his cheek and he flinches grasping your hand to pull it away. 

“‘s cold.” 

You tug the hand towel off the sink and wrap the plastic, pushing it back to his cheek. You hold it there caressing his lash line with your pointer. He leans into the touch, rubbing his eyes with ringed fingers. Eddie pulls the thick silver off one by one, setting them on the counter. 

“Sit,” you tell him. 

He perches on the edge of the toilet lid obediently. You pick a washcloth from the drawer and run it under the sink. He parts his knees as you approach him, hands snapping into place at your hips. You cup his chin, pushing up until he tilts it toward you. Cool water cleans his lips where you brush. He doesn’t flinch, even when you accidentally dig too hard. You progress down to his jaw, where blood is smeared dry, and flaky. 

 “Think I’ll have a cool scar?” His breath fans your chin as you work cautiously. 

“No,” you say. He toys with the strings on your pants, happy to be taken care of. “But you don’t need it. You’re cool already.” 

The corners of his mouth lift fondly. He fights the urge to smile, hoping you’ll work longer if he sits still. You swipe in slow strokes, also secretly loving the time and touch. 

You give his face a once over before tossing the rag to the counter. He searches your expression for a diagnosis. But words are slow to find your mouth, too enraptured with the long lashes that bat his cheeks sweetly. “I love how eager you are to stick up for the people you love,” you start. 

“But?”

“But, we can’t afford you getting arrested over something like this.”

“I know,” he groans and headbutts you gently in the stomach. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and his hair drapes around his face like a curtain. You comb a handful of it over his neck and he tilts his head so you can see his eyes. “I don’t regret what I did, though. He’s always been such a bully. He deserved it, you know?” He sighs, gaze drifting away, “I felt like I could finally stand up to him after all these years.” 

Your fingers trail down his shoulder to smooth out the tee riding up his back. “I don’t doubt that he deserved it. I know you just want to do the right thing. But still, he can probably afford it, we can’t.” You hesitate to ask, “Where did you get that money anyway?” 

He hugs your middle, muttering into your belly, “Been saving.” 

“For what?” 

He shrugs and says what you believe to be, “Something special.” You are curious but lean on your trust rather than insecurity. He most likely intended to surprise you with something if you didn’t know.

“Sorry, you had to spend it.”

“Not your fault.” He peers up at you as if to ensure you know that and you brush his bangs back. 

“Still, sorry.” 

He blinks slowly up at you like a cat waiting for more pets. Then, he shoots up, back stiff, eyes wide. “You have work tomorrow,” he realizes out loud. 

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” you pull his arm until he stands. “I actually have come down with a real nasty cold,” you force a cough into your fist. 

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, not only that but there's this criminal that won’t leave me alone. Think I might have to file a report at the station tomorrow.” 

He laughs, flicking the light off as he follows you to the bedroom. The ice pack is left to melt in the sink and the stained washcloth to dry on the counter, a mess for tomorrow you’ve decided. You’re quick to crawl under the covers and he’s even quicker to shed his clothes and join you. 

Eddie pecks the sliver of collarbone poking out of your shirt, making his way up in a dotted line. He presses gently to your lips, and you break away mindfully, aiming for the corner instead. 

“You know?” Your eyes are closed but you feel his stare. 

You hum.

“I think it’s kinda sexy when you call me a criminal.” 

“Oh my God!” You throw an arm over your burning cheeks, “You are so horny.”

He laughs into your wrist but moves it aside to cradle your cheeks firmly. He pulls one eyelid open gently with his thumb when you refuse to engage. You release the smile you’ve been keeping. He mirrors it, teeth bright in the moonlight spilling in. “Think about it, I already have handcuffs so you can play bad cop and—“ 

You grope for a pillow to push into his face and then another when he chucks it off the bed, giggles overlapping. 

“I’m going to call the police on you, have them arrest you again. Take you to horny jail.” 

“Now you get it,” he releases his grip on your wrists to sit back on his heels and in a voice that is not his own he fawns, “Oh, officer! I promise to be a good boy from now on!” 

You roll over, groaning wildly into your pillow. “Go to bed!” 

He settles behind you, his heart races where it's thumping against your back. Yours isn’t far off. A final kiss is planted on your nape where he tickles you with his hair as he wishes you a good night.

[navybrat817]

The Day After

Pairing: Roommate's Brother!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your new roommate introduces you to her brother, but you met him last night.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, mention of hooking up, tension, humor, flirting, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes being a menace (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Calling this AU About Last Night. No one asked for it. Hope you enjoy it anyway! @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline he's such a menace! ❤️ Thanks to the lovely @whisperlullaby for prereading and assuring me it isn't garbage. Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You groaned as you saw the time and wiped down the coffee table again. Rebecca Barnes, your new roommate, would be there any minute. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. She seemed like a sweetheart and was down to earth, the perfect person to take the other bedroom and help with rent. Plus, she had already seen the place and seemed excited to be roommates.

She was doing you a favor by moving in. Your last roommate got engaged and moved in with her fiancé. While you were thrilled for her, keeping a place in this part of town was costly. You had debated downsizing, but there was nothing available. Giving up the place would’ve been tough as well since you did love your apartment and it was close to work.

“It’ll be great,” you said, taking a wipe to the table once more.

Maybe you were on a cleaning spree so your mind wouldn’t keep going back to the guy from last night. The one at the bar with the piercing blue eyes and charming smile. And the beefy frame and soft chestnut hair that framed his face. The same hair you pulled when he laid you down on his bed and kissed down your body and-

You jumped at the knock on your door. Now wasn’t the time to think about the guy who blew your back out. “Just a sec!” you called out, putting the cleaning supplies away before you straightened up your top. With a deep breath, you opened the door with a smile. “Becca, hi!”

Rebecca’s smile was enough to light up the whole place, her brown hair swept back to showcase her beautiful face. You imagined guys, and maybe girls, flocked to her, but she told you she was single and happy that way. You were single, too, minus whatever last night was. “Hi,” she said, balancing a box in her hand before you held your hands out to take it. “How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Good, but I’ll be better once I get everything inside. I didn’t realize I had so many boxes,” she teased.

“I’m happy to help with whatever you need,” you promised, setting the box down by her bedroom door. “Is your car outside?”

“Actually, one of my brother’s friends let us use his truck to haul most of my stuff here,” she said, a worried look crossing her face as she looked your way. “It’s okay that they help move the stuff in, right? I’m so sorry. I don’t think I asked. The furniture is just a bit heavy.”

“It’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for. This is your place now, too,” you assured her. You remembered her saying she had an older brother. Was his name James? “And you shouldn’t have to lug up an entire bedroom by yourself.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. My last roommate would’ve flipped,” she smiled, heading back to the door to stick her head out. “This way, guys!”

The first man that walked in was thick with broad shoulders and a smile as golden as his hair. If you had to imagine an all-American man in the flesh, this guy was it. But the guy that followed inside after him, he was the one who made your heart stop. The one who made your knees buckle. Because you knew those blue eyes.

And as his eyes bore into yours, he smirked.

Fuck…

“This is Steve, one of my brother’s best friends and pretty much like another brother,” Rebecca said, pointing to the blonde as you blinked. “And that’s my brother, James. Everyone calls him Bucky.”

You were very much aware that people called him Bucky. It was the name he made you cry out when he was balls deep inside you the night before. There was still an ache between your legs that reminded you just how thoroughly he fucked you. It was a miracle you were able to walk by the time he was done with you.

Not only did you manage to walk out of his room, you left his place before he woke up.

To be fair, it wasn’t your plan to ditch him after he took you in just about every position you could imagine. You just had to get home, shower, and clean up a bit before Rebecca showed up. And you did leave your number for him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Steve said as Bucky continued to stare.

The room suddenly felt very hot.

“James, could you not gawk at my new roommate like that, please?” his sister asked, waving a hand dismissively when he continued to stare at you. Thank god she spoke because your words were stuck in your throat. “I’m sorry. He does this weird staring thing sometimes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s okay,” you said, clearing your throat as Bucky raised an eyebrow. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You didn’t know what to say. “It’s nice to meet you guys, too.”

Bucky’s pretty eyes darkened a shade as he continued to stare you down. You shifted slightly on your feet. Was he upset that you left or that you just pretended not to know him, like last night hadn’t happened? But if you said you knew him, how would you explain it to his sister? You could’ve just said you met at a bar and left it at that. Or blurted out everything.

But how the hell were you to know Bucky was her brother? It wasn’t like the two of you had exchanged last names. Oh, Jesus, what was wrong with you?

The corner of Bucky’s lip tugged in a smile as he said your name. How did he manage to make it sound like honey and something sinful? “Becca was telling us all about you on the drive over. Said you’re very welcoming.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as he gauged your reaction. “That was nice of her to say,” you said, tearing your gaze away because you didn’t know what else to do. “Becca, I can go to the truck and-”

“Actually, could you show me where the bathroom is?” Bucky casually cut you off, jerking his head toward the door. “Steve, Becca, if you wanna grab a couple more boxes, I’ll be right down.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded as Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t bother my roommate,” she warned before she left with Steve.

The brunette swung his head back toward you, a wolfish grin on his face as you gulped. “I won’t be a bother, will I?”

“Bathroom’s this way!” you said much louder than you needed to, your heart racing as you went down the hall. He was right on your tail and you wondered if he would figure out which bedroom was yours and drag you into it. The hall seemed more narrow with him in it. The wonderful smell of him took up the space, too. “Right there,” you said, not looking him in the eye as you pointed to the bathroom door.

He put an arm up to block your exit. “Nice to meet me, huh?” he asked, tsking as he shook his head. “Did I fuck you so good that you lost your memory?”

You inhaled, your cheeks hot. “Bucky!” you hissed, looking over his shoulder to make sure his sister and friend weren’t back yet.

“So, you do remember my name,” he said. The smirk that followed almost had you dropping to your knees. What sorcery did this man have over you and how could you get it to stop? “I mean, you should remember it. I did have you screaming it.”

You stuck a finger in his face as you stepped closer. “Shut the fuck up! If your sister hears, she might get upset and back out of the lease. And I don’t want her to leave. She’s nice and I can’t afford this place without a roommate.”

He gripped your wrist and maintained eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip of your finger. An unashamed whimper slipped past your lips that you couldn’t smother, yet you didn’t make a move to stop him. “My sister won't back out of the lease, so don’t worry about that.”

“O-Okay,” you said, trying not to let him distract you as he repeated the motion. Your nipples hardened under your top anyway. Damn him. “But if she stays, how am I supposed to explain that we…”

“Fucked until the sun came up then fucked again? Yeah, you're right. It might be really hard.” He tilted his head as his gaze went lower. Was he trying to kill you? “About as hard as when I had my cock in your sweet, wet-”

You covered his mouth to smother the rest of the statement, but you felt the vibration from the word “pussy” against your skin. He chuckled at your expression. The man was going to drive you crazy.

“Yes, yes. We fucked. Best fuck of my life, okay?” you admitted in a huff.

A genuine smile touched his lips as he lowered your hand. Not a smirk or smug smile, but something lighter like when the two of you chatted over a drink. A smile that made your knees weak. “I was the best fuck of your life?”

You shook your head. You shouldn’t have said that. “That isn’t the point, but I do want to point out that I don’t make it a habit of hooking up with random guys,” you said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Amusement filled his eyes. “I know. You told me that when I brought you home and I believed you,” he reminded you, your breath hitching when he leaned in close. “But you still begged me to fuck you raw. Or did you ‘forget’ that, too?”

Electricity crackled between the two of you slowly exhaled. “I didn’t forget,” you breathed, your tongue darting out to touch your lip. It almost touched his.

How could you ever forget how right it felt when he filled you up?

“Yeah? Then were you embarrassed that you went home with me?” he asked, his voice quieter than before as he took your hand in his. His thumb moved over your skin as your pulse quickened again. “Is that why you left this morning? Or acted like we hadn’t met?”

Your gaze softened. God, did you hurt his feelings? You hadn’t meant to. “No, I’m not embarrassed that I went home with you. Not at all,” you promised. Bucky was like a god and you were a mere mortal that he somehow chose to bless with his presence. “I’m sorry I left. I only did that because I had to get back here.”

“I could’ve given you a ride. Well, another ride,” he said, brushing his fingers along your cheek, his voice still not back to normal yet. “I’m a gentleman like that.”

“I didn’t want to wake you, but I did leave my number,” you said, hoping that would at least soothe the unintended wound. “And I’m not at all pointing fingers, but you didn’t exactly jump to tell your sister we had met either when you walked in.”

He shrugged and looked over his shoulder. “She’ll be back any minute. Let’s tell her.”

“Tell her what?” You asked. The two of you hooked up. There was no label or relationship yet. “We did a lot of things that I don't think she needs to hear about.”

The smile morphed back to the smirk that was getting under your skin in the best way. “Then come to my place so she can't hear the things we’ll do to each other. You know I have a great bed.”

You smiled and considered it for a moment. The handsome menace was single and so were you. Would it be so bad to go with him again? Yes. You couldn’t ditch your new roommate to hop into her brother’s bed, especially on the day she was moving in.

With a shake of your head, you backed away. “You’re unbelievable,” you replied, almost giving in when he pouted. That look probably got him whatever he wanted with most people. “And I’m not going back to your place today.”

“Why not? Like you said, you left me your number,” he said, making a show of holding up his phone. “You obviously wanted to, at the very least, talk to me again.”

“Look, Bucky, can we talk about this later? Please? Your sister’s moving in today. Let’s focus on that.”

His shoulders slumped, but he recovered in the blink of an eye. “Okay, you’re right. But you promise we’ll talk? Because I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, you wanted to talk to him again and it warmed your heart that he seemed interested in talking to you, too. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” you told him. But you couldn’t dwell on that when you heard footsteps approaching. “I promise we’ll talk later and figure out whatever this is.”

That appeased him for now since he dropped his arm. “Later then.”

“James! Are you done going to the bathroom? I thought you were going to help?” Rebecca’s voice rang out. “Oh, God, you’re bothering her, aren’t you?”

You giggled as you ducked past him. “He isn’t bothering me.”

“But I am offering to order dinner for all of us if she doesn’t mind the company after we bring the rest of the stuff up. Maybe we can all watch a movie, too,” Bucky said from behind you, smiling when you looked over your shoulder with an exasperated gaze. “What do you say?”

You had to smile back because you knew you’d say “yes” before Steve brought the next box in.

And things were about to get a lot more interesting in your life since Bucky Barnes seemed determined to continue whatever had transpired the night before.

Neighbor!Bucky level of being a menace. 😂 I also like to imagine this is a version of Stud and Smartie in another world had she lived with his sister instead. ❤️‍🔥 How long before Becca finds out? What shenanigans will these two get up to? Do you lovelies want to see the night before? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ahhnini]

no one knows - rafe cameron x reader

having a secret relationship with rafe has its ups…and downs

warnings - fluff, angst, comfort, secret relationship, this is so bad i apologize

you stare at him from your beverage cart. he’s talking with his friends again, not even glancing your way. every time he does that, you feel a pang in your heart. it’s okay, it’s for the sake of our relationship.

you wish you were good enough for his family and friends. maybe then you’d feel more secure about your relationship. as he’s laughing with some other kook girl, you look away, fidgeting the steering wheel of your cart.

rafe helps you into his window, being careful to not make a sound. you dust your pants before laying down with him on the bed. he pulls you close to him, putting your head on his chest. you feel his heartbeat. slow, steady, the complete opposite of yours.

“saw you poutin’ from your cart earlier, what’s wrong?” he asks, running his hand through your hair. “nothing,” you shrug off, staring into the distance. “something’s wrong. you looked pissed off,” he lifts your chin so you look at him, and you finally admit what’s been bothering you, “just, I just wished we could do normal couple things, I hate having to hide everything. I hate having to see other girls flirt with you—” he interrupts your ramble by placing a soft kiss on your lips, his blue eyes looking at you intently. “don’t be like that, i’d never leave you. not in a million years. you know that.” “yeah but—”

“let me show you something,” he stands up, pulling a small box from his drawer. “open it,” you sit up, untying the ribbon. gasping, you hold up the gold locket. “rafe…you shouldn’t—” “can you unlock it for me, pretty girl?” he moves, sitting next to you. you open the hinge, revealing a tiny photo of you and rafe. “this is from our first date,” your eyes still on the photo, he hums.

“may I?” you nod your head as he clasps the locket around your neck, feeling the cool metal.

“I got one for myself too,” he pulls out the silver chain from underneath his shirt, revealing a similar necklace.

“so we’ll always be together. i’ll always be with you. you’ll always be with me.”

taglist: @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider

(if username is not highlighted please turn on mentions! <3)

[haikyuubby]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐡𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬’ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞!

short imagines featuring: bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, kaminari, kirishima, shinso, and monoma!

part 2 to my valentine’s series!

❀ - fluff, gender neutral reader

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨

“you’re asking me to be your…what?

you hold out a pink card, the words “will you be my valentine?” printed on it.

“you’re asking me to be your…what?” bakugo says, reading the card.

you had a small pack of chocolates in your hand, awaiting bakugo’s answer.

it had taken a lot of courage for you to decide to ask bakugo to be your valentine, mainly because you two weren’t “a thing” yet, and because you didn’t know how he’d respond to this sort of thing.

“you’re such a dumbass, you know that? i already got you a gift for today, and it’s sitting in your dorm right now.” bakugo says.

“wait, really?!” you respond, throwing your arms around bakugo’s neck.

“calm down, and yes. i wasn’t gonna ask you to my my valentine in case you thought it was corny…”

“never that! thank you so much! i’m gonna go see the gift right now!”

after you go to your dorm, you find a red box sitting on your bed.

inside of said box was a dainty, expensive looking necklace.

who knew that bakugo could be so thoughtful?

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚

“you want me…to be your valentine?”

as you give a heart shaped sucker to midoriya, asking him to be your valentine, you can’t help but notice his flushed face.

he stares at you in awe, mumbling a bunch of “youreallywantmetobeyourvalentine?!”

you laugh at his antics, saying yes.

midoriya is unsure of what to say, he’s honestly starstruck that you asked him to be your valentine.

“okay, for real, you want me…to be your valentine?” he asks again.

you quickly nod your head, shoving the sucker in his hand.

“thanks, y/n. i’ve never had someone ask me to be their valentine before…” midoriya admits shamefully.

“i’m glad to be the first! i really like you, midoriya.” you say.

he chuckles, opening up the candy you gave him.

“would you maybe want to go somewhere with me today? we can train together then go out to eat?” he asks.

“i’d love to, midoriya.”

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢

“be your valentine?”

you give todoroki a small gift bag full of self care items and candy, with a handwritten note that reads “will you be my valentine?”

“be your valentine?” he says as he takes out the note from the bag.

“yes, will you?” you ask eagerly.

“i’ve never had anyone ask me this before…i will be your valentine.” he replies, lips curling upward every so slightly.

“i hope you enjoy your gifts, todoroki.”

“actually— y/n, would you like to go out to eat tonight?” he says abruptly.

you nod with a smile, grabbing his hand.

“it’s your pick.”

𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢

“are you seriously…asking me?”

kaminari was currently looking at the card you gave him, asking to be his valentine.

“are you seriously…asking me?” he asks.

“yes, kaminari. that’s why i’m giving this to you.” you respond, awaiting his answer.

“i can’t believe that this is really happening…i’ll be your valentine!”

kaminari wraps his arms around your body, squeezing as hard as he possibly can.

“wait— does this mean we’re boyfriend girlfriend now?”

“if you ask me out properly, then we can be.”

𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

“i wanted to ask you first!”

“kirishima, will you be my valentine?” you ask while holding out a red teddy bear in front of kirishima.

“aw man, seriously?! i wanted to ask you first!” he says.

initially, you thought he was going to reject you based on how his sentence started.

after he says that he wanted to ask you first, you smile and hand him the red teddy bear.

kirishima then pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head in the process.

“let me take you out, please?” he asks.

“of course, kirishima.”

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨

“only if you’ll be mine.”

“shinso, i have a question to ask you.” you ask, hiding a red box of chocolates behind your back.

“what is it?” he asks.

you pull the chocolates from behind your back, placing them in shinso’s hands.

“will you be my valentine?” you ask.

shinso analyzes the chocolates you got him, smiling in the process.

shinso sets the chocolates down, and grabs your hand.

“only if you’ll be mine.”

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐚

“be my valentine!”

you walk up to monoma, mischievous intent glinting in your eyes.

you had a small gift bag full of candies hidden behind your back.

before you can even get one word out, monoma cuts you off mid air.

“be my valentine!” he demands.

“hey! i was gonna ask you first…” you say, giving him the candies that you were hiding.

monoma looks through the bag you gifted him, seconds before he starts going on one of his usual rants.

“HAHA! i did it first! i knew you’d ask me to be your valentine!” monoma says.

your eyes roll at his antics, and you step away from him slowly.

under the impression that you’re walking away from this encounter, monoma reaches for your hand to stop you.

“…do you want to go out with me sometime? maybe right now? i really appreciate the gift and i don’t walk you to walk awa—“

“yes, monoma” you cut him off.

“i’d love to.”

[prismkith]

may I ask for a oneshot with jinx like introducing her girlfriend, fem!reader to vander/warwick? and for a while he's like just sniffing and eyeing her suspiciously or whatever until he sees her and jinx in a super like intimate and sincerely loving moment?

also! may I be 🫀 anon? :3

Hi! Yes you absolutely may! i loved this request, and I hope you love what I wrote based off of it!

'How I met your grandfather'

pairing: Jinx X Fem!Reader

genre: fluff, maybe a hint of hurt/comfort

Wc: 2835

You sigh as you enter Jinx’s hideout, shoulders sore and the bags under your eyes growing heavier and heavier. You'd been out with Sevika keeping the lanes in check after the Stillwater breakout, and it was tireless. Enforces had been down your throats the entire time, and balancing keeping the enforcers from beating angry zaunites while also wanting to beat the shit out of them yourself had taken its toll. 

The lanes have been a never-ending job since Silco died. 

You felt horrible for leaving jinx alone after the attack, but she understood. You worked for Silco when he was here, and now sevika. She knew what your job entailed and was used to you being gone for days at a time. 

Stepping onto the still wings of the fan, you were confused by the noise or lack thereof. Her hideout was never quiet, always the sound of her tinkering, or having dance parties and bug-boxing matches mixed with Ishas giggles. 

“I’m home! Anybody here?” you call out into the air. The only response is the echo of your own voice. “Isha? Jinx?” you call out once more. Confused, you walk up to her workstation, cluttered and disorganized as always. You're met with a note on her desk, your name in her distinctive scribbly handwriting on the front page. 

‘Hey trinket, we found Vander. Took him to some mystery healer on the edge of Zaun. Meet us there if we aren't back before you.

Love ya’ 

Your eyes widen as you scan the letter once more, her lack of detail slightly worrying. Questions flooded your brain as you flipped her vague note to find directions on the back. 

Scurrying to get your things together as quickly as possible, you take off in the direction of this ‘mystery healer’, your heavy boots loud as you run to find your girlfriend and her back from the dead dad

________________________________________________________________________

You're slightly panting as you reach the gates she directed you to, having sprinted half the way there, and jogged the other half. Pausing for a moment as you catch your breath, you make eye contact with a man standing in front of the gates. 

His eyes are white, and he's covered in these bubbly pearlescent patterns, donned in the strangest clothes you've seen. You manage to mutter “The fuck…” before he’d beckoning you closer. 

You slowly stand up straighter, distrust evident in your features as you begin to approach him. 

Deciding that you in fact, do not want to open the can of worms that is the freaky-looking man with a blank expression, you attempt to walk straight past him, eyes set on the entrance in front of you, searching for any sign of wild blue hair or large semi robot beast.

You're stopped by Mr. Freaky before you can waltz past, his thin frame swerving in front of you. “I must ask that you turn in any weapons before entering,” he says, an odd cadence in his voice that you've never heard from a zaunite. You scoff at this request, “yeah, no thanks” you reply before attempting to shove past once more. 

You stopped once again, his tone firmer this time. “I must insist, as it is the policy of the Machine Herald”. You consider just socking the guy in the face and making a run for it but decide that you don't know what kind of crazy superpowers this guy might have, and to be quite honest you don't want to find out. 

“Look, not gonna happen. Not sure who this ‘machine herald’ is, but I'm looking for someone else. Just let me pass, i’ll be on my merry way and you can keep doing whatever…. This is” the annoyance shameless drips from your voice now, you have places to be and this guy is single-handedly keeping you from said places. 

He once again denies you access, and you lose your shit. You're now (loudly) in a full-blown argument with this guy, neither of you budging. His voice is only starting to rile you up more, and you're an inch away from executing your hit-and-run plan from earlier when you hear the raspy voice of your lover calling your name. 

You freeze immediately, fist pausing mid-air as your eyes dart behind the man to see Jinx, leaning against the entrance, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. 

“Stand down, sergeant. No beating the greeter.” her voice is sarcastic and teasing, and you sigh in defeat. Arms dropping and face annoyed as you reluctantly hand the man your pistol and several pocket knives that you keep strapped to you in various places. 

Once unarmed, the man simply smiles and steps aside, and you make sure to knock him in the shoulder before stomping over to your girlfriend. 

Your annoyance subsides as you see her smiling face, your arms immediately wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. You feel her relax into your embrace, strong arms circling your waist and giving you a good squeeze before pulling back. 

“What the hell is this place, and why did that fish-man never change his facial expression once?” you question your voice laced with confusion and slight concern. 

She simply shrugs her shoulders and turns to start guiding you through the odd community full of tents and more people with white eyes and pearlescent patterns. “Vi said she knew of a healer here in the lanes. Said he was performing some miracles or some magic bullshit.” she spins on her heel to look at you while continuing to walk backward. “Personally I think he's just some weird purple fortune teller, but Vi trusts him and Vanders actually getting better, so..” her voice softens during the last part of her sentence, voice trailing off as her eyes cast slightly downward. 

You pause in your tracks, shock evident on your features. “Wait, Vi’s here?” not even attempting to hide the surprise in your voice at the mention of her estranged sister. 

She sighs, once again avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I mean, it's her dad too. Didn't feel right not letting her know that he's alive, at least.” you slowly nod as you come to terms with her reasoning. 

“Anywho! Now we're here at this weird commune run by a metal fortune cookie that can read minds and I dead honestly think this place is a cult. Everyone here is weird. And the only good food is the fruit. The only snacks are trail mix and it's all eighty percent raisins,” her lip curls in disgust, shaking her head slightly before continuing. “I fucking hate raisins. Just give me a grape, I don't want its juiceless corpse as an alternative.” 

You snort at her wording, but can't help yourself agreeing. Raisins suck and it's a crime to ruin perfectly good snacks with them. 

You continue to follow her, passing tents all full of people dressed similarly to the first man you met. Some were in tents that looked more like workshops, cooking, and sewing, and some in tents that looked more like homes, full of pillows and blankets and small furniture pieces. 

She continues to ramble about this place, she mentions that Isha is off in a tent somewhere helping a group of women weave a blanket (boring),  how the healer (who you figured out is the machine herald from earlier) somehow knew her childhood name, and how Vi had turned into some emo looking alcoholic and lost another fight to jinx in an underground tunnel. 

Finally, her walking begins to slow as you both reach a greenhouse near the middle of the village. It's a dome made of detailed stained glass, and you can vaguely make out the shape of the massive frame of Vander inside. You spot Vi sitting on the edge of what seems to be a water well, and Jinx’s description isn't too off. You make a mental note of the poorly done hair job and vow to make fun of her for it later. 

When Vi looks up and spots you, she sends you a nasty glare before stomping away with an excuse of finding Isha. You roll your eyes, so what if you've tried to kill each other a couple of times? No big deal, honestly. 

Jinx also rolled her eyes and dismissed her sister with a wave of her hand. “She’ll get over it, don't worry. She was just as dramatic when I went to find her.”

She simply crossed her arms, leading you to a bench outside the greenhouse. Once sat, she slumps into your side, shoulder pressing against yours and head leaning against the side of your own. 

“It's weird, you know? It's him, he remembers me and Vi but… he’s also part of this beast he's trapped in. Vi keeps asking for my opinion on… All of this, but I have no clue. I think I'm still in shock from when I realized it was him.” She shakes her head, letting her voice trail off. You sit in silence for a moment, letting her words marinate in your brain. 

You weren't sure how to respond, for Christ's sake, you barely even knew your own parents. What the hell do you say to someone who killed two of her dads, and then found out the first one is actually alive but trapped in the body of a hostile science experiment? 

Deciding that there was nobody on the planet who could find the words to comfort someone in this situation, you simply grab her hand instead and allow her to rest against you. She knew what your body language meant when words failed you. She always did. 

You sat like that for a while, enjoying each other's company and the quiet. It wasn't often that there was peaceful silence in Zaun, as silence usually meant danger. You both relished the feeling of letting your guard down for the first time in years. 

Eventually, a man… or.. Robot? You weren't sure, steps out of the greenhouse. His body is a mix of purples and blues, looking like a painted night sky, and he is adorned in a cloak similar to those worn by the others on the commune. He approaches the both of you, still sitting on the bench, an aura of confidence and peace to him. His accent is thick when he finally addresses Jinx. 

“I've decided to end our session today. Your father's condition is improving slowly but I can see him growing tired, and I fear pushing him too far may bear consequences.” he nods his head at you in a greeting as he finishes his sentence, before turning and walking away. 

Jinx grumbles a response, something of a ‘thank you’ mixed with some sarcastic remarks, and you think you hear an ‘aluminum psychic’ mixed in there, but before you can think too hard she grabs your hand pulling you towards the greenhouse. 

You stumble slightly, but follow her as she impatiently hops towards the door. Pushing the large door open, she drops your hand and runs inside. You're met with the smell of fresh plants and herbs as you follow her inside, slowly looking around the room and taking everything in as she runs over and wraps her arms around her father, asking how he's feeling. 

His eyes immediately snap to you, a look of distrust and unease in his eyes as he stares you down. Jinx notices, and slowly steps back from her hug. She keeps her eyes on vander as she backs towards you, grabbing your hand before speaking. 

“Vander, this is my girlfriend.” her voice is soft as she begins to slowly walk towards him, hand still locked in yours. 

Fuck, you were not prepared for the whole “meeting the dad” part of all of this. Sure, you've met one of her dads before, but that's because you worked for him, so the stereotypical introduction wasn't necessary at the time. 

Attempting to calm your nerves and make a good impression, you clear your throat and lift your hand as an offering for a handshake. “Hi- um, hello. Nice to meet you, sir. Big fan of your work. Both the daughter and the, uh, other stuff.” your voice shakes as you attempt a joke to try and relieve some of the tension growing in the small greenhouse. 

Your introduction is met with silence, and then more silence, as Vander just stares at you, occasionally glancing between you and Jinx. 

Finally, your girlfriend decides she's seen enough to rescue the situation, stepping between the two of you before breaking the screaming silence. “Well, this has been wonderful. We’ll let you get some rest for now, though.” she grabs your hand again, speedily leading you out of the greenhouse back into the peaceful village of tents. 

Once outside you feel her drop your hand and pause, looking over to see her with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised, amusement causing the corners of her lips to curl up. “Nice one! Real smooth, babe.” she teases. You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek and resting your hands on your hips. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

_____________________________________________________________

Vander glances around at the smiling faces surrounding him. Sat at a small picnic table outside the greenhouse sat his family. His eldest daughter to his right, and the miniature Powder to his left. A feast of fruits, salads, and roasted vegetables covered the table. A dinner cooked by a group of people on the commune. 

Across from him sat grownup Powder and her… girlfriend.

Vander was already struggling to come to terms with the fact that his daughters were now grown. It felt like no time had passed in his mind, but the years had left their mark on the girls nonetheless, and now he has to come to terms with his youngest daughter being out in the world of romance. His little girl, all grown up and dating women he'd never even met before. 

He continues to stare at the two of you, giggling and talking with the others at the table, shoulders occasionally brushing together. His eyes were weary as he watched you two, despite the fact that Powder seems to trust you with everything, nothing changes his distrust and distaste towards seeing his little girl all grown up. 

He continues this internal battle in his mind, struggling with the growing protectiveness only amplified by the traces of the beast still in his mind. Even the tiny powder trying to get him to eat and offering him water couldn't help distract him from the affection being shown from across the table. 

He could tell you knew he didn't trust you, as every time you made eye contact your eyes would dart away, face casting downwards. 

Eventually, the sun sets, and the conversation at the table begins to slow as the food in front of him is quickly destroyed by the hungry teens accompanying him, miniature powder having fallen asleep against his leg not too long after. 

He watches as Powder begins to grow tired next to you, her eyes drooping and shoulders slowly slouching as she tries to keep herself awake. You notice, and gently nudge her before deciding it's time to call it a night. You stand, and pull Powder up from the bench she's sat on. 

“C'mon, sleepyhead,” you grumble as you turn around and lean over. She turns around and throws herself onto your back, her legs going around your waist as you catch her and lift her until she's snuggly pressed into your back, her head leaning into your neck as her eyes close once more. 

His eyes soften as he watches you make your way to his side of the table to pick up the miniature powder from his lap and lift her to your front, one arm wrapped around her keeping her small frame firmly against your chest, the other arm still hooked under one of Powders knees to keep her balanced against your back. 

The act reminds him of when Powder and Vi were young and would fall asleep on the couch or at the barstools while he cleaned up the bar after a long night. The memories caused a pang in his heart, chest contracting at the memories of when they were young, reminding him of all the years he must have missed. 

As you slowly begin to walk away towards the tent Vi directed them to, he speaks up before you're too far away. 

His gravelly and deep voice calls out behind you, “It was nice meeting you too..” you pause in your steps, turning your head to look at the man behind you to confirm you weren't hearing things. Upon seeing your face, he glances down before continuing, “You seem like a good kid, you're, uh, good for Powder.” 

Your face slowly splits into a grin, simply nodding your head at him once, before turning and continuing your trek into the night. 

Meet the future father-in-law: check. 

____________________________________

A/N: ahhh first one shot let's go! hope you guys enjoy this one :3 luv my girl jinx that's my wife fr

[bradshawsvinyl]

Everything Has Changed

Summary: In which Rafe and Reader find out they're expecting.

You hadn’t been feeling well for a couple of days. You were exhausted and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t keep food down. The scent of your favorite candle became unbearable and the smell of Rafe’s new cologne made you want to gag. 

“Are you okay?” Rafe asked after you finished throwing up for the third time that week. 

“I’m fine,” you replied while wiping your mouth.“It’s just a stomach bug or something. I’ll get over it soon.”

“I think you should go to the doctor,”. Rafe said while getting dressed for work. “You know I hate seeing you sick baby.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured, “You need to leave for work now or you’ll be late.” 

“I know, I know,” Rafe replied. “I’ll see you later,” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek and heading out the door. 

After Rafe left, you returned to the bathroom to finish your morning routine. You opened the cabinet below the sink to get a new tube of toothpaste when you noticed an unopened box of pads. 

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself.

You waited until Rafe left for work the next day to go to the pharmacy and pick up a pregnancy test. When you got home, you began drinking copious amounts of water to encourage yourself to pee. 

You were scared out of your mind. You knew Rafe had a tumultuous childhood and you weren’t sure how he would react to the prospect of bringing a baby into the world. Despite dating for 3 years and living together for 1, you and Rafe had never gone into detail about having children. Whenever the topic came up, you both spoke about it vaguely. You knew you had to find out if you were pregnant for sure before you started worrying. 

You ran to the bathroom with the box of tests in your hands. You peed on the stick and set a timer, pulse racing while you waited for the results. 

After the timer went off, you flipped the test over. Two lines tauntingly stared back at you.

You sat on the bathroom floor with the positive pregnancy test while your heart raced. You were scared, nervous, excited and panicked all at the same time. Your mind could not help but drift to how Rafe would react. 

When he came home from work that evening, you decided it would be best to rip the bandaid off and tell him.

“Rafe,” you said, voice almost in a whisper. “We need to talk.”

His brow furrowed immediately. He had been worrying about your health for the past few days. He couldn’t ignore your continued nausea. He had been urging you to go to the doctor for what felt like weeks but you had turned him down everytime.

“What’s wrong,” he replied urgently. “Are you okay?”

You nodded while holding the pregnancy test behind your back. “I know you know I haven’t been feeling well and I think I found out why,” you said while trying to keep your voice steady. You moved your hands from behind your back and offered Rafe the test.

His eyes dropped to the object in your hand that read PREGNANT.  He froze, looked at you, looked down at the test, and looked up at you again. “I-Is this,” he said shakily, “A-Are you-“

“Pregnant.” You finished for him trying and failing to seem confident. 

For a moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. Then to your surprise, he began laughing. “Holy shit,” he said running his hand through his buzz cut while pacing. “You’re serious?” 

You nodded watching his expression morph from worry to excitement. He put the test down on the table and pulled you into his arms. 

“You’re having our baby.” he stated, voice laced in wonder as his eyes began to fill with tears. 

“I’m having our baby.” You repeated.  “Are you happy or-“ you asked after a beat, trying to gauge how he truly felt about the situation. 

“Of course I'm happy baby,” he replied excitedly. “You’re going to be the best mom,” he continued. “I’m going to love this kid so much, just like I love you.”

You could help but begin to tear up at Rafe’s soft words. You felt a wave of relief wash over you. You had worried that maybe Rafe wouldn’t want to be a father. The fact that he had reassured you meant he was in it for the long haul. 

You both stood in silence for a moment, allowing the news to sink in. Rafe continued to hold you close. You could feel his heartbeat. It felt as if he didn’t want to let you go. 

“Okay,” Rafe said after a few minutes or hours, you couldn’t tell, “I’ve got you. Whatever you need. I’m not gonna let you do this alone. I promise.” He finished with a voice full of conviction. 

In that moment, despite the nerves and the what ifs, you knew everything would be okay. Rafe was on your side and he wasn’t letting go. 

Authors Note: I’m trying out a new format! Pls let me know if it’s hard to follow. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!! dividers from @anitalenia and photos from pinterest.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when he’s wounded/she’s patching him up?

(Yes I’m a nursing student I promise we aren’t all mean girls 😔)

ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 —you meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k

One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. You’re professional nonetheless. 

“What am I seeing you for today?” you ask, holding your hands behind your back. 

Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. “Someone hit me really hard.” 

You can see the bruise forming against his temple. “Yes, I’d say so. Did you know the assailant?” 

“No, but it’s handled.” His smile turns to a grimace. “Uh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.”

“A head injury could trigger that,” you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. “Can I have a look?” you ask softly. 

When you’ve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or he’s had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected. 

Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. It’ll be a big bruise in just a few hours. 

“Spencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,” you say, voice still soft. If he’s got a migraine coming, he won’t want your usual overloud distinction. 

“It’s okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.” 

“You have a laceration, yeah? It’s about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah, please. Um, about the migraine–”

“Do you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.” 

“I can’t have narcotics.” 

You pull back and straighten the hair you’d displaced. “That’s okay, it just means you can’t have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?” 

“Tylenol is fine as long as it doesn’t have the codeine with it.” 

You give him a gentle nod. “I’ll make sure it’s the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?” He probably knows, but you add, “It’s not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when I’m poking around.” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to do first.” 

His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he can’t see, and rest your hand on his arm. “Is there someone here with you?” you ask him.

“My friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.” 

“That’s okay. I’m not sending you home until I’ve fixed you, Dr. Reid.” 

He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesn’t say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him. 

“I work for the FBI.” 

“You do?” You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. “This might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.” 

“It’s not the cut that hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If he’s already having one, you probably can’t do much to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean pain relief won’t help. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

He’s quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when you’re done, and it’s so small you won’t irrigate it. 

“Are you an agent?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. “I think I’ve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?” 

“Mostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.” 

“So you’re the big gun.” 

“I guess so. I’m not actually good with a gun.” 

“No one has to be good with a gun to change the world.” You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. “I hate guns.” 

He sighs. “I do, too.” 

“They make my job hard. It’s not nice, seeing what they can do to people. It’s awful, really. Spencer, I’m so sorry, honey, I’m just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.” 

“It’s okay.” 

You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you can’t see the inside. 

“I’m gonna cover this with the dressing now. You don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to, it’s a pretty small cut, it was just deep. I’d recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but it’s up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.” 

You’re mildly flirting, then. Just because he’s nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when he’s roughed up, though. 

Spencer, luckily, understands that you’re not trying to harass him. “Thank you.” 

You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails. 

“So sorry,” you say, laughing under your breath, “it’s my nails, huh?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“You’re a great patient, Spencer. I’d give you a sticker if I could, I’m not kidding.” 

“You’re a great nurse.” 

“Thank you.” You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. “How’s that migraine?” 

“Getting worse.” 

“You have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?” 

“Psychosomatic, apparently.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?” 

“Some. I don’t really… want it,” he says awkwardly. 

“That’s okay. If it’s psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. How’s the stress in your life?”

“Stressful.” 

“It must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.” You smile carefully. “Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?” 

“I was mostly worried I had a concussion.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it. You’re not nauseous, are you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isn’t nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, taking his arm into your hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

He had the look of someone who’s always fine. Luckily for him, it’s your job to take care of people, to make sure they’re more than fine. “Okay. I’m gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?” 

“Uh–”

“I’m getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.” 

He smiles, startled and pleased at once. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.” 

He nods but doesn’t move. 

As you’re leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think. 

“Reid, you okay?” you hear him say. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re pink.” 

“What?” 

“You’re blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Spencer whispers sharply. 

“You can ask for her number.” 

“No I can’t, she’s working.” 

“But you want to,” his friend surmises. 

You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if you’re both feeling up to it, right?