#so I know the spoilers but I forgot enough for this to be a new and enjoyable experience again almost

[acaciapines]

just finished my c4 replay (for fic writing purposes. obviously <3) and oh my god the titan fight is SO MUCH EASIER WHEN YOU BEAT THE KNIGHT IN CHAPTER 3 HUH. literally first go around it took me like. probably close to two hours of attempts? tbf part of that mightve been that i played most of c3 + 4 in one sitting and so by the time i got to the titan it was like four am and i think i beat it pretty quick after i'd slept lol. BUT STILL. ON THIS REPLAY W THAT BLACK SHARD SWORD??? first time babey!

[jaqdawks]

This is Barry my Madoka Magica OC

[battlecriesandroses]

hello tumblr! 👋👋👋 how is summer going for everyone :D

[im-smart-i-swear]

Does Jiro has ghost like abilities (possession, ability to levitate things, etc etc) or does she just live in Shiro's head?

when i created this au, i thought the best option would be for her to be unable to interact with the physical world in any way(including possesion), beacuse i really wanted to lean into her isolation and how it affects her....... and while thats something i still want to emphasise here, lately ive been toying with the idea of jiro being able to impact the physical world somehow(though it still being fairly limited). i think letting her have some control could have a lot of potential! buuuut i also have no idea what abilities i want her to have lol

For now i think im not gonna give her any telekinetic abilities, bc i feel like it would be giving her too much power......... if she could throw shit, shed go APESHIT with it. it would made things too easy for her. i'm sorry babygirl but i'm NOT giving you the possibilty to throw knives and other sharp objects, i dont trust you to not kill someone:/

i really like the idea of her being able to temporarily posses her old body in certain circumstances tho- maybe when shiros uncouncious?? or like when hes is very tired or heavily injured she can kind of 'squeeze through' and take control back for a few minutes???? idk. i think this could be a very cool ability to give her- it cant be frequently used but can also be very helpful, and also theres so much potential for ✨shenanigans✨here>:) oh god i could put these fuckers in so many Situations with this..........

uhhh. so basically i think all of her influence on the physical world are through shiro. shes here bc of her connection to her old body, and thus its the only way for her to interact with anyone besides him- and shes NOT HAPPY about this(neither is shiro).

[kolsmikaelson]

AND THEN THERE WERE THREE…

NOTES — just saw challengers today and absolutely needed to write smth for these two! only used a gif of art because theres none of the two of them and almost none for patrick </3, i’m a little rusty with smut so bare with me

WARNINGS — 18+ content mdni, slight challengers 2024 spoilers, fem!reader, kinda dom!art, pure smut/little plot, art/patrick interactions, talk of previous art/patrick sexual encounters, spit play, oral (m receiving), tit sucking, dirty talk, mentions of anal, little bit of aftercare, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything!

REQUEST — Pls write a smut fic with reader and Art fucking in the hotel room (with Patrick watching) and reader asking if Patrick can join them and ofc Art can’t say no because he finds the idea of this super hot. Maybe reader makes Art and Patrick make out like in the movie 👀

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

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None of you were too sure how exactly this had started. You, Art, and Patrick had stumbled back into their hotel room after leaving the beach, each of you finding your own place to sit after Patrick opened up a beer, took a swig, and passed the can to you. You’d taken a seat closer to Art, having naturally gravitated towards him more so than Patrick. And quickly, you and Art were making out, leaving Patrick to watch. 

You blamed the beer. And the fact that you found both Art and Patrick incredibly hot. One minute you’re at a party, dedicated to your best friend, Tashi Duncan, and the next you’re sitting on the beach being invited back to the guys’ hotel room, and the next after that, Art is stripping you of your clothes while Patrick takes a seat leaned up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed. 

“Can I-” He begins, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, desperation clear in his eyes. At your nod, Art quickly yanks your shirt over your head and immediately pulls your body flush against his. He’s planting soft, wet kisses up and down your neck as his fingers work the back of your bra. His eyes widen the moment it drops to the ground. 

Giving you a moment's glance he quickly sucks one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting. Feeling as though he’s neglected the other one, he pinches and tugs on the opposite nipple, smiling around the one in his mouth at the moans you let out. 

“Yeah, baby? You like this? Me with your tits in my mouth and my best friend jerking off while watching us?”

For a moment, you’d forgotten about Patrick. Your eyes shoot open, landing on him instantly. The sight of him, slouched against the wall, his hand already wrapped around his cock, with his eyes fixated on both you and Art. He looked so hot, you weren’t sure how you’d forgotten that he was even there. 

“Mhm, ‘s hot.” you admitted, turning Arts face back to you, tugging his bottom lip back into your mouth. The blond pushes you back onto the beds that were pushed together - Patrick’s idea if anyone were to ask - and begins kissing up your stomach only stopping long enough to kiss each of your nipples. He grabs your face, pushing his fingers into your cheeks, making you open your mouth, before letting a large glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours. 

“Swallow.” He smiles when you do so without complaint, even going as far as to look as if you wanted him to do it again. 

Patrick moans at that, louder than before. Sure he and Art had messed around before, when they were both single and bored and needed a good fuck, that wasn’t new, but hearing that commanding tone in the blonds voice sent a shiver down his spine. 

“God, that was hot.” Patrick sighs, laughing when Art gives him the finger. 

“Fuck off, Patrick.” Both of them know he doesn’t mean it, if he wasn’t wanted there, you or Art would’ve said something, but you didn’t. whether Art knew it or not, both you and he wanted him to stay, and keep watching.

At some point during that interaction, you weren’t sure when exactly, Art had shed his pants and underwear. He was dragging the tip up and down your slit, up and down, stopping every few seconds to slap your clit with it. When your eyes finally landed on his length, it made your jaw drop. He was big, bigger than you’d seen before, he was long and girthy with veins running along the bottom of it. 

He slowly slides into you, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. He’d never seen anyone look so angelic. The closest comparison he could make was how Patrick looked when he’d first given him a blow job. He wouldn’t call the look on Patrick's face angelic perse, but it was hot, really hot. The reminder of that, and the way you’ve begun clenching around him, spurs him into you. His hips snapping into yours, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. It was unlike anything either of you had felt before. 

I want him to join.

You weren’t sure that the words had actually left your mouth until the blond on top of you stopped his thrusts, looking into your eyes for a moment. 

“That what you want, baby?” He murmurs, kissing sloppily up and down your neck, shivers running through your entire body at his touch. His fingers falling to your clit, flicking at it. The pleasure was almost enough to make you forget that he’d even asked a question. 

Almost. 

“Please,” Even in your fucked out state, you couldn’t help but want more. 

“Come on, Zweig. You heard her.” Patrick grins, hopping to his feet, although slightly hesitant. He wasn’t sure where to go, or what to do. But his nerves dissolved the moment Art turned around, and gave him that look, one that he knew meant that everything would be okay. It meant that he just needed to get over himself and have a good time, everything would work out. After that he’s on the move towards you, giving Art a harsh slap to the ass as he goes past him, laughing when Art swats back at him. 

Patrick all but flies onto the bed, having kicked his underwear off the moment he stood up, and his shirt is long gone, a mix of yours, his, and Arts clothes are scattered around the hotel room, sure to have lost at least one thing. But none of you had it in you to care, too overwhelmed with pleasure. Your mouth opens before he’s even fully on the bed, but he gets the message, quickly positioning his tip in front of your mouth, thrusting a few times before losing control and fucking your throat. 

The three of you move in tandem for minutes, or maybe it was hours, Art would thrust into you, rubbing your clit with his fingers, while Patrick would be pulling himself out of your mouth at the same time. It felt as though this was a regular occurrence, as though it were normal. And god did you hope it would become a normal thing. The three of you, together, making each other feel good. 

Tapping Patricks thigh lightly, you hum happily when he pulls out of your mouth, giggling at how quickly he begins to check and make sure you’re okay. 

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The words come out of his mouth at lightning speed and it’s difficult for you to understand, but Art had and his thrusts slowed to a stop, hands leaving your body, giving you a questioning look as if repeating everything his friend had just said. 

“I’m fine baby,” And then you say something neither of them could quite hear. 

“Gotta speak up for us, sweetheart. Can’t do what you want us to do otherwise.” That comes from Patrick, Art nodding along with him. 

“Want you two to kiss.” The words fly out of your lips and you’re suddenly shy, pressing your face into Patricks thigh, nipping at it softly. 

Both men smirk at you before making eye contact with each other, giving a subtle nod. 

“Well c’mon man, you know how I like it.”

The combination of Arts words, his sudden thrusts and Patrick taking it upon himself to flick at your clit, push you over the edge. The power of your orgasm makes your legs shake, your mind empty of anything this isn’t you, Patrick, or Art. 

They’re still kissing, it’s all teeth and tongue and spit. It’s messy, and it only stops long enough for Arts mouth to fall open, moans spilling out as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of his come flooding your insides, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. 

At this point, Patrick has taken a step back, and is watching again. He’s stroking himself with one hand, squeezing just right and out of nowhere, Art reaches out, cupping the dark haired man's balls, tugging and rubbing on them just the way Patrick likes. The added pleasure sends him crashing over the edge, he barely has the time to move and aim his cum to where you and Art are connected, spilling himself all over your cunt and Arts cock. 

Art pulls out and the three of you fall into a pile of heavy breathing, sweat, spit, and cum on the beds pushed into the middle of the room. Once you all catch your breath, Patrick is the first to speak. 

“Wow.” It was simple, but it made you all burst out laughing. 

“Wow, indeed.” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his pec, turning to do the same to Art. 

“That was fucking hot.” Arts words make you all giggle yet again. 

“Okay,” Patrick leans you into Art and pushes himself off of the bed, “‘m gonna get you two cleaned up, be right back.” He reassures you, hearing you whine at losing his presence. He comes back with a warm washcloth in hand, and a small cup of water in his other. He hands the water to Art motioning for him to take a drink and then give you some as well, while he bends at the waist, resting his knees on the floor and taking the cloth to your core, cleaning you as gently as he could before moving onto Art. Tossing the cloth to the corner of the room he pulls both you and Art into his embrace, enjoying the quiet for a moment before you break the silence. 

“Round two? Whoever makes me cum harder gets to fuck me here first.” You smile slyly, placing your hand on your ass, giggling when Patrick snatches you from Arts hold, muttering something about how he ‘got you first last time and that it’s his turn now.’

[caelivir]

shrimply in love | miya atsumu

synopsis. atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.

pairing. atsumu miya x gn!reader | wc. 2.1k | genres. timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, atsumu is soooo down bad | warnings. (minor?) manga spoilers

notes. outing myself as a hq fan and atsumu lover LOOK AWAY. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw LMFAO 😭. i was up until dawn, on my phone, in the drafts writing this that’s how bad it was. there's something additional to this so stay tuned, and i hope you enjoy.

“tsumu!” you call out from the couch while he’s in the bathroom connected to your shared room. “can you get my wallet? it’s on the bed.”

“sure thing, baby!” he answers back.

“thanks love!” you reply, the petname making him grin in the mirror. it gets him every single time.

after drying off his hands with a towel, atsumu doubles back to the bedroom, your wallet immediately catching his eye. he picks it up, and as he does, something slips out from the crevices.

atsumu picks it up and inspects it. it’s a folded slip of paper. curious, he unfolds it to examine its contents. reading it puts him in shock, and now he’s mildly annoyed with you.

he rushes out of the room, stomping over to you like a little kid. you raise an eyebrow in amusement when he stops in front of the couch.

“baby, what the hell?!” he whines, holding the paper out in front of you for you to read. confused, you lean closer, letting your eyes scan it before laughing out loud. it’s a guest check from the day you first met.

“what?! it’s cute!” you defend with a smile.

“it’s horrifying. do you even know how embarrassing this was for me?” atsumu pouts.

“oh believe me i know.” you giggle.

three years ago.

after a hard won victory, the msby jackals were craving a celebratory meal. meian had suggested a new italian restaurant that had opened by the arena. there was a unanimous agreement among the team, except for sakusa. however, bokuto had managed to convince him to come along with enough pestering.

so there they were, a group of guys well over six foot (with the exception of hinata and inunaki), sharing what’s probably the largest table at the restaurant. it drew tons of attention, and there were even some fans who came up to them for pictures and autographs.

then you came by, ready to take orders, and atsumu knew in that moment he was an absolute goner for you. your beauty was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. you were prettier than those models on the ads he walked by, prettier than the flowers in his mother’s gardens, prettier than sunsets on a beach. and god, your smile. his head went all fuzzy at the sight of it. it melted his insides.

you chuckled at whatever bokuto animatedly said before moving onto atsumu. you looked at him expectantly, eyes shining with so much light that it jumbled the blonde’s brain. shit. what did he want to order?

atsumu’s eyes quickly racked through the menu, and his mouth fired off an order before his brain could process what he was reading. “uh, could i get the shrimps camping?”

a silence befell amongst the table before a collective cackle filled the restaurant. realizing what slipped out of his mouth, atsumu’s face turned red. his cheeks were embarrassingly hot.

mortified. he was absolutely fucking mortified. even that asshole omi-kun found it funny. it didn’t help that you were suppressing a smile at him too. he didn’t even bother with the damage control. there was no point. he’d only embarrass himself further.

with a giggle, you made a note of it on the guest check you were writing up because at least you knew what he was referring to. atsumu buried his face in his hands. see in his head, the setter had come up with a plan to ask for your number, but now he was never even going to walk down this street ever again. his chances? consider them blown.

“alright, alright,” you said after the laughter had died down. you fire off orders to confirm everything, and then you get to atsumu. “and… one shrimps camping.”

“you’re killing me.” atsumu groaned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment now that you were teasing him.

“it’s my job.” you shrugged before walking off with a wink. the blonde felt his heart skip a beat.

“don’t sweat it, atsumu-san!” shoyo clapped his back reassuringly. at least he could leave it to the ginger to always have his back.

it took a minute, but the team had finally moved on from atsumu’s slip up. unfortunately, it was all the setter could think about. god, what if you teased him once you came back with the plates?

luckily for him, it didn’t happen. you just tossed him a knowing grin when you presented him his food. he stared down at those shrimp dancing in the sauce, knowing he’s never ordering fuckass shrimp scampi ever again, and dug in. (it’s the most delicious thing to have graced his tastebuds.)

atsumu, contrary to previous thoughts, did end up coming back to the italian restaurant in the hopes that he could see you. he realized that he wasn’t going to allow one fuck up ruin the chances of having you. atsumu miya is many things. annoying, rude, loud, but a quitter? that’s not one of them.

it was a weekly occurrence, and atsumu would try something different from the menu each time.

“no shrimp scampi?” you would smirk.

“no…” atsumu would sigh, feeling the jab in his bones before handing you his menu. “no shrimp scampi.”

conversations became more casual. he learned more about you like how you were in your final year of university and that your favorite men’s volleyball team was ejp raijin. (he was definitely going to change that.) each week the blonde setter visited you during week made him fall for you even more. all of these little things accumulated until atsumu finally got the balls to ask you out.

“what would you like today, atsumu?” you greeted, that soft angelic grin on your face, and he just knew he had to do it. he couldn’t ever let you go.

“you. me. a date.” he said casually, his eyes dripping with confidence. (interally, he was freaking out).

you tried maintaining your composure but failed so miserably. you couldn’t stop the smile that reached your eyes as soon as you heard those eyes. “i thought you would never ask.” you beamed at him.

chewing on your lower lip, you motioned for him to give you hand, to which he most happily obliged. your touch was a new heaven. so warm and so soft. he wished to be wrapped in it forever.

you held his hand steady as the tip of your pen scribbled on his skin. when atsumu looked down, he realized it to be your number, and his eyes stared at it in awe.

“text me.” you told him before walking off. then you stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around until you’re back at atsumu’s table. “wait, shit. what do you want to eat?”

oh. he had completely forgotten about that. atsumu picked up the menu and quickly scanned for a fun dish name. “um, just the pizza napoletana and garlic bread.”

“you got it.” you noted it down. followed by, “no shrimp scampi?”

“(y/n), please. i feel like i’m flying right now, and you’re killing my mood.” atsumu’s face fell, feigning fake irritation, but you knew better.

you laughed. “alright, alright. i’ll be back soon.”

“you better be.” the setter scoffed before his face betrayed his true feelings.

and before you knew it, one date became two, then three, then four, and the rest was history, shrimp scampi along with it.

at least, that’s what atsumu thought.

“i thought you completely forgot about it.” atsumu whines.

you laugh, standing up from your place on the couch. “how could i ever forget that? i stopped the jokes because you got all sulky. besides, that’s how my little infatuation with you began.”

once you’re directly in front of him, atsumu places his hands on your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. without even thinking, your hand finds its way to the back of his head, stroking it with affection. “of all things? not my good looks? or my nice arms? ” the blonde murmurs into your skin.

you hum in agreement. “well that came after.” your boyfriend groans, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t think i ever told you this, but i was having a really rough shift the night the team came in. when you guys were put into my section, i nearly lost it.” you admit. “but then you asked for shrimps camping, and i lightened up, like all of my negative energy just drained out of my body. seeing you all flustered and blushing was so adorable in my eyes.”

your boyfriend pulls back, his face scrunched. “i didn’t realize you were in a foul mood that night.”

“had to fake it. you know how customer service is.” you shrug, a smirk taking over your face soon after. “but you were too busy admiring me to even notice it.”

atsumu grins smugly. he’s not even ashamed. “that i was.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

the blonde setter hums, leaning in, and you meet him halfway, kissing him gently. atsumu’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against his body. you feel his lips twitch into a smile.

you’re the first to pull away, but your boyfriend is unsatisfied with that. he presses his lips to yours once again before you could even get another breath in. it’s a kiss full of affirmations that atsumu can’t voice. you feel it all through him. he’s so greedy when it comes to you, but he’d definitely agree with that statement without any complaint.

to atsumu, kissing you is a new kind of euphoria, one better than any service ace, better than any cool quick that he pulls off with his hitters. kissing you is like falling in love with you again, and it’s single-handedly the best feeling in the entire world.

he pulls away first with a proud smile. he steals a quick peck against your lips, then your nose, and then the rest of your face until you’re drowning in his affection.

you giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “tsumu!”

atsumu sighs contentedly. his large hand cups your cheek. the rough skin of his thumb traces up and down your face. it’s so reassuring and so warm that you can’t help but lean into it.

“i love you, angel. y’know that right?” atsumu stares at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. everyday, he can’t believe that he gets to have you. he can’t believe he gets to come home and you’ll be there waiting for him, ready to hold him in your arms and kiss his knuckles when he tells you about his day.

you adjust your head ever so slightly to kiss his palm. “i know it. you never fail to make it known.”

you’ve come to realize that that’s who he is. your sweet boy, atsumu miya, is so full of love. behind the brashness and the insults, he has so much love in his heart that some days he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i love you so much, atsumu miya. you are my life.” you whisper, bringing him in for another soul-igniting, cavity-inducing kiss. it’s intense, hotter, but that is just life with atsumu, a blaze of passion and fierceness.

you can feel him melt against you as if this is his first time doing this with you. you can feel him reciprocating your words. you know him so well that you can guess the words that follow. “all for me. my sweet angel. what did i do to deserve you?”

a memory springs to mind, causing you to cut the moment short as much as you’d like to continue. atsumu pouts at the loss of your lips against his. such a kid. still, he looks at you expectantly.

“i have to admit,” you’re kind of excited to see how he’ll react to it. “the entire restaurant knows you as the shrimps camping guy.”

atsumu stiffens against your body, and the horrified look on his face makes you burst out laughing. “you’re lying. (y/n), tell me you’re lying.”

“i’m sorry, my love. it’s true.” you reach out for his hand, but the blonde playfully shrugs it off.

“don’t touch me. how could you do this to me, huh? i thought we were for life!” atsumu turns away from you, shutting his eyes.

you roll your eyes. you should’ve expected this. in situations like these, there is one sentence that will make him forget everything immediately. “if i kiss you, will you forgive me?”

atsumu snaps his head back to you, and his eyes fly open, allowing you to catch the light that sparkles in them as he smiles widely. he’s so beautiful. “really?!” he exclaims but leaves no room for you to respond before he’s crashing your mouths together for the fourth time. you roll your eyes in disbelief but give into him immediately.

atsumu miya is so annoying, but he’s yours, and you wouldn’t give him up for anyone else in the world.

[nullen-void]

For a long time I wondered if the final TF2 comic would ever come out. For a longer time I wondered if I wanted it to. They built it up so much, hyped the Administrator's big plan so high, and then waited so long, could they possibly ever meet expectations?

I don't know if what they did was what they originally planned, or if there even was a plan, but I think they knocked it out of the park. It feels... right.

And it cemented the Administrator as one of the most terrifying villains in history. But before I discuss that, SPOILERS:

It was all pointless. None of it ever mattered.

The Gravel Wars, the fighting, the Australium, the deaths, the Classic Mercs, none of it mattered at all. Because Helen or whatever her name is just an addict getting her fix.

She kept a man alive for near enough two hundred years, trapped in the moment just before death by a thousand diseases, because she dedicated her life so thoroughly to ending him that when he finally croaked, she had nothing left. So she brought him back to suffer more. And then extended her OWN life so she could keep making him suffer.

And she doesn't even remember why. She was a child when Zepheniah Mann killed her parents, and she's something like a hundred and seventy years old now. It's been three normal lifetimes since then, and she's forgotten. But she never forgot the hate.

She sabotaged two infant's futures by raising them to be bafoons just to hurt their father. She orchestrated a forever war to spite a single man. She was prepared to keep this going until the heat death of the universe.

Do you know what would have happened if Pauling had lost her nerve and admitted they found a new stash of magic metal? With all three Mann brothers dead, she probably would have gone after Olivia. The last Mann standing, and a girl who at the time was only seven and had barely any connection to the Mann legacy at all, and probably didn't know her grandfather's name! And Helen would have gone after her and ruined her life just to make Zepheniah watch as yet another generation of Mann was ruined.

What a pointless, misspent life. What a waste of time. What an ending.

It makes what comes next all the greater. Scout and Soldier are dads with happy children, Spy still can't admit their relation but gets to be part of his grandkids' lives and he and Jeremy trust each other enough that Scout doesn't blink when he takes his mask off. Team Fortress is happy. They moved on. Found new lives.

Helen couldn't. She had all the time in the world and then some, and she just couldn't move on.

What a waste.

[bcksbarnes]

one and only

pairing: husband!bucky barnes x reader

summary: you and bucky decide to take the next step, afterwards you both reflect on your choices, and your love.

word count: 3.3K

cw: thunderbolts* spoilers

a/n: i was recently in a wedding and forgot how much i love true love, this is inspired by that. this is just straight tooth rotting fluff! enjoy!!! ✨

Marriage was always in the cards for Bucky — well, it was when he thought that life had a time limit and wasn't something that could be delayed. He had imagined returning from the war to find a partner, a house with a white picket fence, maybe 2-3 kids, and, hopefully, a good paying job.

None of that came true.

None of that would ever be the case for him.

So he gave up his dreams and realized that life had dealt him a brand new hand. He had spent many years running, hiding, now it seemed like all he could do was try to make his way back to at least some of his old life. Marriage didn't seem to align this time around, and he was okay with that.

Or at least, he pretended to be.

Imagine his surprise when you made your way into his life. Bucky didn't know if the universe was playing some fucked up trick on him, or if he had been reading this new hand of cards wrong this entire time. He knew you were special. Life changing, even.

There was never a doubt about it, that you were someone worth fighting for — someone that he was meant to love. It felt foreign at first, he had gone so long without the kind touch of another human being, but the two of you eased into it as if it was the most natural thing in this world.

Because it was.

You never explicitly spoke about marriage, not even when things shifted from fun to serious.

There was always a reason not to:

Bucky dealing with the loss of Steve

Him and Sam weren't seeing eye to eye for a while

He decides to have a midlife crisis and become a Congressman (which you happily supported, even if you weren't entirely sure where it came from).

Now, he was finding his footing with a new group, the Thunderbolts — er, New Avengers (there were some legal issues with the name that Bucky didn't want to get into, he was usually too tired, too stressed, it wasn't important enough).

Which is why it surprised you that one night, after dinner, Bucky's leg seemed to be shaking more than usual — a clear sign that he had a lot on his mind. He was pretty good at not wearing his emotions on his sleeve, but tonight seemed different

"Everything okay?" you ask, your hand resting on his knee under the table.

Bucky turns his head in your direction with a look that said he saw you, but that his brain was in an entirely different place. There were dark spots on the shoulders of his gray t-shirt, he had taken a shower as soon as he got home and the droplets of water were falling from his still damp hair.

For a man so large and brooding, Bucky looks so small. He's hunched inwards, his elbows resting on the table as he holds his head in his hands. He barely touched his food, instead just moving it around with a fork. Holding secrets to himself.

"Things have been crazy," he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Walker's been driving me up a wall every single day asking the dumbest questions. Alexei asked me if we could experiment with doing a double dosage of the serum. Yelena's been talking me off the edge so I don't bust everyone's heads in."

Your lips curl into a soft smile as you squeeze his leg, offering him your silent support. The team was still semi-new and most days Bucky didn't have the patience to deal with them — even if silently he enjoyed their presence.

"You're all still working out the kinks."

"It's been a year, you'd think we'd have it figured out by now. Sam does, Steve always did."

"Sam didn't for a while," you remind him. "And Steve never did, he was just confident. You will work it out, you always do."

Bucky's head lolls to the side to look at you. Even in the smallest moments you never gave up on him, you always told him it would find a way — you were usually right, he just hated waiting for it.

"I love you, you know that?" he asks quietly, his hand moving to grab yours and bring it up to his lips. He presses a soft kiss against the palm of your hand before he intertwines your fingers together.

"I do," you nod. "I love you, too."

Bucky uses his free hand to push away his plate of untouched food, then he grabs the bottom of your chair and drags you over until you're next to him. Leaning over his hands wrap around the underside of your legs and lifts them up, letting them drape over his lap. He watches you intently, always memorizing your features — always scared one day he won't recognize them anymore.

"That's not the only thing that's on my mind tonight," he admits, his voice soft.

"Care to share?"

"Maybe."

You chuckle as you lean your head against the back of the chair, the amount of love in your eyes could make the Earth shatter.

Whatever is going on in that big, beautiful brain of his is taking a toll on him, his fingers playing with the tips of yours as he purses his lips. It's obvious he's trying to figure out what exactly to say, or how to say it.

"We should get married," Bucky finally comes clean, exposing his thoughts right then and there.

You wish you could say you were surprised by his admission, but the truth is you and Bucky had known from the very start that this was where your lives were headed together. It didn't need to be said audibly, no one needed to make sure. This was it.

"When?" you ask.

"Now."

"Right now?" you chuckle again, shaking your head with a playful eye roll. "The courthouse is closed, we'd need a witness."

"Too many logistics," he huffs. "Tomorrow, then."

"I'd have to check my calendar."

It was Bucky's turn to laugh, his head tilts back as he lets out a hearty bark, one that he only reserved for you. His hand runs up and down your leg, you can feel the calluses on his hands from where he held his gun or gripped his knife too tightly, but you didn't care. You loved the feeling of him.

"Mean."

"Tomorrow might work," you say, your eyes examining his features. "I don't have anything to wear."

"I don't care. You could wear that ratty old t-shirt you've been hanging onto for too long. I just want to marry you."

So that's exactly what you and Bucky did.

The next day the two of you called Sam and asked (pleaded) with him to meet you at the courthouse that afternoon and be the witness. He put up a little bit of a fight about the whole Avengers thing but you managed to remind him that this wasn't about petty arguments.

Bucky managed to scrounge up a suit from his time as a Congressman and you found an outfit that would work — it was slightly off white, maybe a little less traditional, but it did the job.

"Wow. And you we were worried about having nothing to wear" Bucky says as the two of you meet at the top of the steps in your home. "Give me a spin." You take his extended hand and he spins you around, whistling in admiration as he does. "Beautiful, as always."

"Not too bad yourself," you say as you face him again, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Are you ready to marry me, Barnes?"

"I've been ready since the day I met you," he whispers your name before he kisses you again, his lips lingering a few seconds longer this time.

Deep down he doesn't want to leave, he wants to take those clothes right off of you and worship the ground you walk on. He wants to hear you moan out your vows and promise to be with him forever. He'll settle for the courthouse instead.

The wait is longer than you had anticipated, apparently trying to get a marriage license was more of a hassle than either of you had expected (which wasn't very high since you both did a quick search on the computer the night before than hoped for the best).

Sam showed up as promised, albeit a little late, and now the three of you waited in the lobby of the courthouse, your leg bouncing in anxious anticipation.

"You're going to start an earthquake," Sam teased, earning a playful nudge from you.

"It's not everyday that you get married, Wilson."

"Can't believe R2-D2 over here found a soulmate," his chin nods over in Bucky's direction.

Bucky flips Sam off in a way that's both brotherly and full of hate, a perfect balance that only the two of them could master. You turn your head to the side to hide the amused smirk on your face, Sam was always getting you in trouble with his jokes.

"Don't egg him on," Bucky mutters.

"I'm sorry, R2-D2 is funny."

He grumbles something under his breath about being lucky he was going to marry you, but it doesn't matter because at the same time you hear your names being called out by one of the staff members.

It was time.

You wish you could say that you remembered every detail of what happened. That it was this beautiful, over-the-top ceremony filled with tears and wishes of love. In truth, it was quick and your mind sort of blanked out during it. There were no rings, no exchanging of pre-written vows, Sam watched a few feet back, with a quiet smile. It was intimate, quiet, exactly what you wanted.

A few signed documents, one cranky judge and a kiss later and the two of you were officially married. Not in the traditional sense that everyone grows up to dream about, but in a way that still promised each other the world and more.

"We're married," Bucky says.

It was hours later, the sun had now set, the world was dark and still. The two of you were now sitting on the floor of the kitchen, your legs draped over his. There was a skylight on the ceiling that let the moon and stars shine through illuminating the floor.

Bucky had gotten rid of his tie and suit jacket at some point in the night, the first button of his shirt was undone and his hair was a mess — but he was your husband, and he was beautiful. Your own hair was a mess and your strap had fallen down your arm, though you didn't care to fix it, there was a mysterious stain right under your chest and for all intents and purposes it was exactly how you pictured your wedding night.

A few feet away were a few empty bottles of champagne and a cake that you picked up from the grocery store on the way home. The white box was opened revealing what was left of a chocolate cake (which was now some crumbs) and two forks because of course you and Bucky fed each other and laughed about how weirdly dry it was.

"You keep saying that," you tease, biting down on your bottom lip.

"Can you believe it though? We're married." He grabs the open bottle of champagne by the neck and tips it to his lips, taking a long sip. It's not like he would ever feel the effects of the alcohol, but getting time to sit here with you and bask in your love made it feel like a celebration. What was a celebration without a little booze? "I never thought I'd be married, not after everything that happened."

You nod your head and give him a sad smile, grabbing the bottle that he was now holding out for you and taking a much smaller sip, the bubbles popping in your mouth.

"I wrote vows," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

"When did you have time to write vows?" he asks, his eyebrow raising.

"Not last night, a while ago," you admit. "Do you want to hear them?"

There's a knot in Bucky's stomach at the idea that you had laid everything out on a piece of paper. He thought of his name in your neat handwriting, and how you must have taken time to reflect on this relationship — this love. He doesn't tell you he's done the same, that sitting in the breast of his suit pocket is his own set of vows. Ones that he wrote years ago.

But right now he wants nothing more in that moment than to hear what you have to say, so he nods his head. You stand immediately, using his shoulder as leverage, and patter over to the steps, soon finding your way to the bedroom. You kept the vows in the nightstand next to your side of the bed, a folded up piece of paper that you scribbled on the nights he was away.

They served as a constant reminder of his undying love for you.

The paper is tight in your hand as you make your way back to the kitchen, taking a seat on the floor in the same position that you got up from, your back now resting against the cabinets. Your eyes find Bucky's and when he gives you a soft smile you unfold the paper and begin to read:

"I'm not going to pretend that these are perfect, or even close to describing the love that I feel for you, but I would be a fool not to reflect on our story, and hope that I've had nearly a fraction of the impact on your life as the one you've had on mine.

"When we met for the first time, I knew at that moment that I would never be the same. Neither of us were searching for the other, but there we were, standing a few feet apart at that dirty dive bar that Sam brought us to …"

Bucky laughs.

"And the world seemed just a little bit brighter — like something had changed. Well, something did change. We were both scared of the world, of each other, and of falling in love. But we ignored those little voices, we leapt into this and no matter how scary or hard it was, we did it together. Hand in hand. Head first.

"Life isn't linear and our stories are never what we expect them to be, but with you by my side I know that we are unstoppable. You've shown me how to be brave and what true unconditional love looks like. If I've never said it before, then I am saying it now: thank you.

"I promise to be your partner, your best friend and your soulmate in this lifetime and every one. We will find each other no matter where we are or who we become, because our stories are now one. It's not just you and me, it's us.

"And at the end of our days you will not just be Bucky Barnes the hero, you'll be James Barnes, my husband, my one true love. And I hope by the time I'm reading this that we decide to get married, or calling you my husband will be kind of awkward."

Bucky laughs again, you join him as you try to get the rest of the words out, trying to hold back tears. Your voice is now shaking.

"And if we did get married, then I hope we did it like we do everything. Together, hand in hand, head first."

You fold the paper in your lap, a few tears sliding down your cheeks as you meet Bucky's gaze. His eyes are glossed over and there's a fondness on his face that he only reserves for you — like most of them are.

"I love you, Buck," you whisper.

Bucky nods his head a few times as he leans back, reaching out for his suit jacket that was behind him on the floor. If you were going to read him your vows, it was time for his. He pulls the crumbled paper out and holds it up. Your eyes widen in surprise, you did not expect him to have his own ready.

"I keep this thing with me wherever I go, I think I've crossed off a lot of things that didn't sound right," he says, showing you the paper for a moment. "May I?"

You nod your head. Bucky clears his throat, then begins:

"I'm not a man of many words, though I'd like to be, because life has passed me by and my only regret has been not telling you that 'I love you' enough. I know that you'll argue and say that I do, but I don't, because I should have told you the second we met and every moment after. Every single silence should have been filled with me saying those words to you.

"I knew it, I always did. What is there not to love? Your kindness? Your intelligence? The way you make sure to always keep my side of the bed warm when I get home late because you know I hate when it's cold? If I am the man worthy of your love then I have done something right in this world. I'll never take this love for granted, not ever.

"Maybe in another lifetime we found each other sooner, but in this lifetime we found each other exactly when we needed it. I always needed you. My life has been a constant tidal wave and you were the only one to swim me ashore. Now I can breathe, and you and I sit in the sun and bask in the warmth, where we belong.

"I'm sorry there aren't many words to explain how deep my love for you is, but I hope that every single day I can show you instead. I promise to be your partner, your best friend and your protector. And from now until my dying days I love you, I love you, I love you and I love you."

The paper in Bucky's hand is now splattered with teardrops, the once black ink now smudging across the off white paper. But it doesn't matter, none of it does, the vows are just a promise, one that the two of you had already made years ago.

You crawl over to him and wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his lap. There's a few silent tears shed as you hold each other close, but nothing neither of you haven't seen before. It’s a rare moment of intimacy between lovers.

When Bucky pulls away to look at you there's a smile, not a sad one, but a grin so wide the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"We forgot rings."

"I know," you nod. "Do you have a pen?"

Bucky nods, reaching back into his suit pocket again and pulling out a ballpoint pen. You grab his hand and click the pen to expose the tip, writing your initials on the inside of his ring finger. He does the same shortly after — not a permanent solution, but a symbolic one.

He kisses the back of your hand a few times then begins to stand, lifting you to your feet and into his arms. Neither of you untangle from each other, instead opting to slowly sway back and forth in the middle of the kitchen, never wanting to let go. There was no music playing, there didn't need to be.

You and Bucky were starting your forever with whispered I love you's, hand in hand, head first.

[awrkive]

[TEASER] CATCH YOUR WAVE (m) — JJK.

the last thing you expected when you strolled into your new school is to become the favorite project of the 5’11” tatted-up overly enthusiastic, golden-retriever-in-human-form PE teacher, jeon jungkook. he’s all goofy grins, bad math puns, and relentless charm, while you’re busy pretending you’re immune to his antics... spoiler alert: you’re not. and that infuriates you. 

alternatively, jungkook tries to prove that opposites don’t just attract — they collide. a classic case of one plus one equals: “oh, no. i like him.”

PAIRING jeon jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE r18+ (fuff, slight angst, mature content) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT ~15k (still working around the final wc)

TEASER WORD COUNT 1.8k words

WARNINGS/MISC teachers!au, pe teacher!jk, math teacher!reader, seven!jungkook, himbo!jk, coworkers!au (works in the same school), oc gets kinda mean sometimes but jungkook likes it lmfao, extremely corny pick up lines.. he tries 💔 2000s romcoms references (sorry) warnings for this teaser: nothing major. just bad math puns delivered by himbo jungkook :')

NOTES inspired by the whole “can she gaf me💔” vibes in the seven mv (by jungkook) and ultimately the click five’s song, catch your wave (hence the title🥸 pls listen to the song for the whole vibes hehe <3). ive been wanting to write himbo jk for awhile bcs all my jks are like … smart so far so i thought wait we need to change that. gahhhh im so so freaking excited ive been thinking about writing this ever ever since i wrote that one himbo jk drabble 💃🏼

[ CYW MOODBOARD ] • [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

RELEASE DATE 2025, AUGUST xx | 01:00 AM KOREAN STANDARD TIME (GMT+9)

They say life is a balance of good and bad days, and you’re not a pessimistic person, but sometimes enough is enough. How is your week already this bad when it’s just barely started? 

Sunday morning, when you picked up your laundry from the shop, you were too late to realize that you mixed not just one but two white underwear with the colored loads. You’d blame it on the fact that they were too tiny, too flimsy for you to notice. But you know you should’ve double-checked before putting them in the machine. And now you have lost two panties. And in this economy? That shit cost a ton. 

When Monday came and the head of the Math Department informed you there was a sudden shift in your schedule for the semester, it meant that instead of teaching three Algebra classes for tenth graders, you’re also teaching pre-Algebra for eighth graders, meaning you’re gonna have to cross the long walk from the high school building to the middle school one, the latter being all the way to the left wing, completely the opposite side of the right wing where the faculty room and your initial classes are. 

Today, you’ve woken up with your WiFi not connected to the internet (something you have to talk to your landlord about when you come back home) and just two minutes ago, you realized you forgot to take your coffee order with you from the cafe across your school building, the sad garlic bread you bought along with it staring right at you without its beloved beverage pair. 

Truthfully, it might be your last straw. How the hell is this happening to you out of all people? The semester is just starting, for god’s sake, and you’re already hanging on by a thread. 

You take a deep breath on your seat before standing up from your cubicle, heading to the coffee machine by the snack bar.

You hate the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep on stocking the pantry with, it’s too naturally sweet – and you don’t like your coffee with sugar. 

But you have no choice but to make do. The cafe’s too far out and your first class starts in about twenty minutes. 

“Good morning, Ms. Math Genius – ready to crunch some numbers today?” 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you shut your eyes close for a moment when you hear the familiar voice. 

You stir your coffee with downturned lips.

“Only if you promise to flex those brain muscles—” You say, turning to look to the side. Much to your expectation, it’s Jeon Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall with that usual faux suave he keeps on around you – which you can’t take seriously because his big doe eyes tell you a completely different story. He’s wearing some Nike dri fit shirt, one that’s too tight around his chest and accentuates a comparatively tiny waist that you have to force your eyes upwards. But as they do, they land on the biceps that are straining against the poor material. It wasn’t lost on you though that one second after, they’re suddenly flexing. You arch your brow as you glance a look on his face. “—as much as you flex those biceps.” 

Jungkook’s lips curl into a huge grin, expecting the jab. 

“You know it!” He chuckles, running his fingers through his bangs. “I’m all about solving problems, and I’d say my favorite equation is you plus me equals a perfect start to the day.” 

You fight a loud groan from escaping your lips as soon as he says that, giving him a certain look before shaking your head and going back to your coffee. 

But you should’ve known better by now, because Jungkook – aside from being a PE teacher extraordinaire and every student’s favorite at that, Thee Football Coach, 5’11” tatted brunette with a long, fluffy hair paired with an objectively, annoyingly attractive face – is persistent. 

Most especially when it comes to annoying you. 

A few steps, and then you feel him getting closer to you. 

“Did you know that—” 

You roll your eyes. That’s it. If it’s another one of his corny math pick-up lines again you swear to god— 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to keep doing this everyda—” 

“—we’re like parallel lines?” 

“What.”

“Did you know that we’re like parallel lines?” Jungkook repeats earnestly, just like he always does. When he’s up in your personal space like this, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and your annoyance could’ve been justified if he smelled like shit but somehow, even though he looks like he just got back from a run judging by his running shoes and gym bag, he still smells… okay. 

Just okay. As in, you don’t care how good he smells like or how he smells at all.

You make sure to keep that thought at the back of your head. 

“No.” You say, hoping to dismiss the conversation right there as you pick up the cup of coffee from the machine, ready to turn on your heel, but then Jungkook laughs ever so slightly and gives your arm a barely-there poke.

“Come on, entertain me a little.” 

You squint your eyes at him. He challenges your stare with a growing smile on his face. Scoffing, you roll your eyes again before you put the paper cup back on the table. With a sigh, you cross your arms and look at Jungkook. For a split second, his eyes cast downwards to your chest level but he quickly snaps out of it. 

“Okay… we’re like parallel lines… why? Because we’ll never meet?” You say in response to his little request, keeping your tone impassive. 

Jungkook’s eyes slowly widen at your words, smile slowly dropping – as if the logic of your words have ruined one of his million pick-up lines again. 

“I– no! What? I meant, we’re like, always running to each other! Side by side. Parallel lines.”

“Okay… so still never meeting?” You ask impatiently, brows furrowing. 

Jungkook mirrors your confusion. Then, he raises a hand, one finger up. “One second. I’ll fix this–” he takes his phone out from his pocket, types on it quickly, lip jutting out as he reads whatever he’s looking up, and then, “Ohh, I might have meant asymptote lines. We’re like asymptote lines.” 

Your face contorts into even deeper confusion. Holy shit, you’re not dealing with this very early on in the morning, especially not after the circumstances of the past hours.

“Asymptote lines are more depressing than parallel lines if we’re talking metaphorically.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“I would hope I know my lines, Jungkook. I teach them everyday.” 

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners cutely, and you hate how that tugs something at your heartstrings. 

You catch yourself right at that moment.

Jeon Jungkook is not cute. You keep in mind. He’s not cute. 

Jungkook thinks you’re so cute. Gorgeous, most of all, and unbelievably so. You and your signature furrowed brows and pink pouty lips.

As usual, you have your hair up in a clean bun today, and Jungkook can smell the lace of sweet vanilla from you as he takes a step closer to get a cup for himself. 

He loves the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep stocking the pantry with, it’s sweet as fuck. Just like how Jungkook likes his caffeine dose. Kind of like you, he thinks. 

Jungkook casts a quick glance at you again, can't really help himself when you're so pretty, although he makes sure to be subtle about it.

You’re wearing another one of your pencil skirts, one that he has to avoid staring at for longer than three seconds lest his mind takes him too far – but the upper view is even more of a torture, unfortunaly for him. Because as much as you wear the same outfit every single day and it should mean that Jungkook should get used to it by now, he can never be immune to your silk long sleeves, where you keep the top three buttons open – and as much as Jungkook tries to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin down from your neck, it’s like there’s a strange force in the universe that keeps him on it. Doesn’t really help that you like crossing your arms under your chest, too, making his mind run a mile per minute at the thoughts that form inside his head when a very apparent cleavage shows—

Alright. Damn. It’s like 8 am. 

And you were saying something about lines…

“Yeah? I hope you can teach me too, I need to—” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jeon.” You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, taking your coffee with you as you head to the direction of your cubicle. 

The nickname makes Jungkook’s lips curl up. He probably shouldn’t smile, given that you only ever call him that when you want to cut the conversation with him short. But he can’t help it, it sounds sweet coming from your pretty lips. 

In an attempt to not look like a fool, Jungkook bites his lip as he watches your disappearing figure, your heels clicking on the floor as you walk away. Your legs look so long in that grey pencil skirt, and it really should be criminal how you look like that even when you’re just showing your back. 

In his trance, he forgets about the brewing coffee in his cup and absentmindedly takes it out while the machine is still running, the hot liquid pouring from the nozzle quickly burning the skin on his finger. 

“Oh, shit!” He hisses, jumping from the shock, almost knocking his coffee out but thankfully he manages to catch it on time, just as when another member of the faculty walks by the snack bar. 

With an awkward smile, Jungkook raises a thumbs up to Mrs. Lee. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Looking rad as always.” He cheerfully greets, and Mrs. Lee’s confusion from seeing him fumble with his cup earlier quickly turns into a coo. 

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you charming kid. I was just gonna get my cup of coffee.” She says, walking towards his direction. 

Jungkook adjusts the strap of his gym bag to his shoulder and takes a cup for Mrs. Lee with a grin, making her smile. 

She thanks him and with a playful salute, Jungkook goes toward the general direction of his cubicle, and because the PE department and Math department are just across from each other, he walks past you, typing something on your iPad before you look around and catch his gaze.

Jungkook automatically waves, smiling brightly, but you only frown, shutting your iPad close and ignoring him.

Amused, Jungkook tries to fight off a huge grin, taking a few long strides to get to his own cubicle. 

His day is already off to a good start.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2025. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and/or translating any of my works are not allowed.

[ghelullu]

Okay I survived this ritual surprisingly and wrote down a few thoughts, in a mostly chronological order and I probably forgot 90848 things

Tldr: Absolutely fabulous 20/10 he sounds amazing and he looked so happy the whole time

Spoilers under the break(also for length of rambling) :)

octogonal (with the usual nose in the middle) stage setup, they can walk around the while thing now (a bit similar to the cardi days setup but no elevation in the back)

No new ghouls except for the one new ghoulette, also none of the "more ghouls" that were spoken of in that one interview

Peacefield sounds cool!!!

Lachryma live is 🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽he did the high notes himself!

Spirit! Pinnacle!! So much meliora on the setlist!

Papa talked very little sadly, but when he did it was fun! No accent, too!

He said he's new and asked us to be nice to him since it's his first time; then wanted us to treat him rough instead after someone said no

Almost ran the mic stand over during ftpttp

Entertainer!Phantom!! He was phenomenal the whole night tbh, incredible guitar player

Papa in full robes sitting in the back of the stage being lifted by some thingy while singing Majesty (hands free mic!)

TFIAL made the audience go crazy, changed the lyrics to 2034

Cirice without wings

DATHOML! Much better live than I expected honestly

I think he has a screen now at the front of the stage where he can read lyrics? Not sure though, but from my seat it looked a bit like it, good for him

Still managed to miss some and now we know his "fuck, wrong lyrics" face

FACE! SO MANY SMILES AND FACES HE MAKES!!

No really, he looked SO happy seeing everyone vibe and sing 20/10

Big robes only made an appearance for majesty, other than that It was a black leather jacket with batwing seams on the bottom, the silver jacket (it has a sparkly grucifix on the back), the cassock (BEDAZZLED SPINE AND RIBS AND HIP BONE AND TAIL????) and a pink jacket for squammer

"Whoo!" - Papa V

Appeared from below the stage via trap door to deliver a cowbell to Swiss lmao, umbra rocked - but the mix was bad, you could barely hear his singing, sadly

He sounds amazing without the mask

Especially the new songs are sung rather raspy, incredibly hot. Older songs sound more copia/terzo, but I assume that will change as usual, transitions are never immediate with him

In general he's very copia, but moves different than him, less focused and dancer-y, more.... Theatrical, joyful idk the right word?

In general less horny than copia, fewer action in mummy dust(jumped kneeling on the stairs though), no fingering in ritual, no serpent deceive, etc, but some thrusting in dance macabre etc hehe

The way he ran to change into the cassock for year zero rip, man was in a HURRY

The explosion at the end of year zero shattered the stained glass backdrop and then he performed he is in front of the splintered glass, beautifully done, especially as it reassembled into a religious image again

Generally lots of cool effects for the backdrop during majesty too and then afterwards BECAUSE

for rats the whole backdrop exploded, the church architecture deflated! and it was performed in front of a wasteland, super cool

Frater money!

Really his facial expressions the whole time help

lipstick was GONE

I can't read my notes anymore lmao

He said he's only there to show up and shake ass and that's what he did

MONSTRANCE CLOCK - HE DID THIS FOR MEEEE

Encore was the usual (Good!!!) and there were so many people left after monstrance clock lmao???

Inrpobably forgot a ton but holy moly that was so much and so cool and he sounds SO GOOD I CAN'T SAY IT ENOUGH, he looked extremely happy and comfortable, it was nice to see, audience was great and engaged, the whole new setup is very cool (and expensive looking damn)

10/10

[kawaiialeisha]

⚠️ WH SPOILERS

WELCOME HOME APRIL 12TH UPDATE ANALYSIS

This is my analysis on the new WH update with the help of many wonderful people in my server!! ^^

---

These are all in reference to the hidden Julie videos.

First video: Julie was attempting to get the entirety of Home (aka the neighbourhood) in bloom before homewarming. Julie came across a flower that hadn’t bloomed. She was trying to get it to bloom but it wasn’t talking to her nor blooming. Frank was not present while she was trying to make it bloom.

She leaves it be as Frank calls her over somewhere, promising to come back to make it bloom.

Second video: Julie seemed to have reserved that flower to show Frank and let him make it bloom with her help.

It's mentioned that rainbow monsters (like herself) have many responsibilities corresponding with nature. She references her family's motto, as if it's something to be proud of. Keep this in mind.

It's also worth noting that according to Julie, with enough positivity, the flowers will bloom by homewarming. So it seems these flowers can only bloom from happiness.

Julie stated that she can’t hear flowers that haven’t bloomed yet. Julie and Frank talk to the flower to try and get it to bloom, getting stumped. Julie attempted to solve it through her board game.

The two state:

Frank: “…No surprise chess manoeuvres! I know you’re not allowed to combine the Queen and the knight during chess, Julie! You can’t trick me again!”

Julie: “But pieces are just keeping each other company, Frank! It sounds like somebody’s just sore about losing the queen’s favourite horsey!”

I think Julie's last line means something more. A lot of these videos almost imply meanings of replacement or loss.

Third video: In the beginning of the video, Julie whispers in a serious tone “you’re still closed” twice before addressing it more clearly and happier.

She talks about how Barnaby and Howdy make fun of her a little, possibly discussing her insecurities. Julie also mentions in this video that she likes Frank the most, considering she met him first when she first came to the neighbourhood. She didn’t know anyone when she came here. She said she doesn’t exactly remember how her and Frank met, but she assumes it was when she was building her burrow. Frank fell into her tunnel. She whispers in a serious voice again to herself, “Was he mad? I don’t think he was. I think he said to me, "Are you new here? I’m new too, my name is Frank." I think he knew I was scared. He said a really corny joke to me, and I laughed.” She states she met Wally the same day, which is when she got her home. She also states she can’t say out long after dark, as they’re not supposed to be outside. The reasoning is unknown. Wally suddenly comes out of nowhere, saying in a slightly distorted tone, “Did all that really happen, Julie?” This might imply she forgot something important, which is brought up in the fifth video analysis.

Fourth Video:

Starting with the flowers POV, Julie says "it's still here" in a slightly distorted voice, referring to the flower. I used to think it was the flower talking, but it was actually Julie's inner thoughts/voices, as proven in the transcripts. It's strange that this flower's POV hears her thoughts, her negative ones too.

The POV cuts to a different one as Julie greets the flower normally: "Hello my possible petunia, it looks like you still haven't opened! Why is that?"

But then it cuts back to the flowers POV, Julie's voice getting serious again, asking, "What's wrong with you?" inside her head.

It cuts back to normal again, "I'm sorry, is it because I haven't been around as often? I promise it wasn't on purpose! I've been busy. I have a lot of responsibilities. I'm home's cheeriest neighbour!"

It's almost as if she's trying to be something of worth, to live up to her actual name. Did you catch that she didn't want to join the joyful sibling's band as a drummer? Maybe she didn't feel worthy enough, maybe she has insecurities, maybe she didn't fit in with that role, or maybe she had feelings that she shoved away to also maintain being home's cheeriest neighbour.

She begins talking about the 'Sweet Briar' play and says, "It's about a princess who falls asleep for a long time after a mean fairy puts a spell on her. Then her handsome prince comes to wake her up!" It cuts back to the flowers POV, saying inside her head, "If only it was that easy."

Again, another possible reference insecurities. Her thoughts start to be more prominent and reoccurring, getting more negative and worrisome.

Here she begins to lack self esteem, by saying she thinks she did alright and struggled a bit during the play. She also mentions how she liked letting someone else lead. She told the flower earlier in the 2nd video that she had a lot of responsibilities, so maybe it ties to that.

More signs of insecurities and spiralling from Julie. The way she fears and talks about her family's thoughts about her not being able to get a flower bloom makes me think they've possibly neglected her before? Or maybe she's avoidant so she can make a good example of herself, as she was hesitant to join her family's band.

Fifth video:

I think something happened to Julie at one point. I think it’s between her and home, maybe. (Considering I think home is trying to take control and isolate the neighbourhood from the darkness surrounding the edges of the map, as seen below)

The link to her fifth video has the words “tears”, “remembrance”, and “instability” in it. The instability part is very obvious within the video, but tears and remembrance mean something deeper I think. Tears and remembrance combined could mean a sad memory. In the video, Julie makes the excuse her family is here and she should go say hi before they leave home. She rushes over to the flower and thinks to herself, “you’re still here. After all this time. I spent so much time talking with you. I gave you everything I could.” She starts to cry in a way, then saying “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you want, I don’t understand what the problem is.” It then cuts to the flowers POV, now inside her head again, “Was that not enough? Do you want to get me into trouble? Why are you doing this to me? Was it because of the early spring? Are you mad at me for that? I don’t know why that happened, it’s not my fault! It’s not my fault! Please, please don’t do this to me! Frank is nearby, please I’m begging you, please bloom before anyone sees you. Please bloom, please, please-“

She is now treating this flower differently compared to the first video. She's almost threatening this flower in a way, believing it will somehow get her into trouble. Almost like... something is after her.

When in the first video, it seems she had stumbled upon it for the first time, keen to make it bloom. With positivity. But all this flower is consuming are her negative thoughts.

It cuts back to a different POV where Frank is looking for her. She cusses to herself since Frank has found her. She panics, trying to not let him see the flower. She turns to the flower to tell it one last message. "You won’t be around for much longer- You’ll go away by Homewarming- I’ll never see you again, no one will, no one will ever know you were here- and then I’ll be free- I’m as good as I ever was- I’m Julie Joyful!-" It seems as if she’s insecure, incapable of being worthy. Maybe it's even an identity crisis too, as some have speculated. It also seems as if there’s been a significant event that happened in the past that she can’t remember properly. Or perhaps, a consequence. She also seems to be getting a consequence in the near future if this flower gets her in trouble somehow.

---

Other thoughts with the information we know now:

Credits to @gho-zzy

Call-back to video three, remember how Wally was there? I believe he's been listening through the flower. I mean, these styles of hidden videos ALWAYS have Wally in there at least somewhere. Especially in his POV. So, he must've taken this flower's POV somehow. It might be the reason why it wasn't blooming either.

Another call-back to this image here:

You can also see footsteps leading into the forest. Perhaps this is where she goes to see the flower?

ANYWAY!! I will update this as things become available again, since the 5th video is currently down.

[alidiggory92]

His Girl - One Shot

Jackson!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Joel and reader have been together for a few years now, and live in his house in Jackson with Ellie. You forget to lock his truck after driving it, and he gets a little upset.

OR you call him Daddy, Joel melts, and Dina walks in at literally the worst time.

Notes/tags (16+): Age gap (Joel is late fifties, reader is mid twenties), established relationship, domestic fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, soft smut, teasing, banter, Joel is kinda mean, no use of y/n, daddy kink (reader literally says it once), glasses!joel, oldman!joel, Dina walks in but it's not exhibitionism, TLOU season 2 spoilers (not really just characters from that are used), Every Breath You Take by The Police (song is played, cause the reader likes it), protective Joel, no smut just sensual stuff. Hopefully I got it all!

Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Okay! Here we go! First one shot so please be nice to me, okay? No smut, just all fluff and sensual talk, since I've stated that I feel weird about writing smut (for now.. mwehehe). Reader is not described apart from having hair long enough for Joel to comb his fingers through it, and that she likes music.

Joel was busy in the house, working on some circuit board. His glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes squinted slightly. He needed a new prescription, his vision has been getting worse over the years, but he always brushed you off when you commented on it. 

You watched him through the window, coming back from a small patrol. The only kind Joel would let you go on were the ones around town or right outside the walls. You weren’t scared exactly—just nervous.

Earlier, you’d driven his truck, and forgot to lock it once you got back home. You came out of the garage just in time to see Joel unlocking the truck with his spare keys. He paused, sighed, and chewed his bottom lip—fourth time you’d forgotten.

Sure, Jackson was a pretty safe town, but you know Joel. Doesn’t trust most people. Plus, men. With their trucks. You never understood that. Maybe it was a boomer thing.

His frustration–already high from construction– was only heightened when this happened. Which only resulted in a ‘stern talking to’ –as Joel called it–. You hated getting lectured. Made you feel like a kid. Which, compared to him, you are. 

Regardless, you ended up nodding along to his words, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I’ve told you, as soon as you get out of the truck, you lock the damn door.” Joel held up his keys, dangling them, “You insert, twist, and double check. Ain’t complicated.” 

You nodded, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn't cut it this time, hun.” He scratched his beard. “Show me how you lock it.” He nodded at the truck.

You scrunched your nose, and sniffled as you walked over to his truck, grabbing the keys from his rough hands, fiddling with getting them into the lock. Swallowing thickly, you lock it, then tug on the handle to show him it’s locked. 

“Good girl.” Joel murmured, patting your hip and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

That was about two hours ago, and you still feel weird going back inside the house. You have no reason to be. Joel wasn’t scary, except for when he had to put you in your place, but that was years ago. You knew his boundaries and he knew yours. Mostly.

But apparently his therapy sessions with Gale were helping. Which you didn’t know about until a week ago. 

You sniffled, your nose running from crying the cold. Then you open the front door quietly, hoping Joel wouldn’t hear you come in, considering he was working on that circuit board, and was half-deaf anyway.

You take off your jacket, put it on the coat rack, then wipe your nose with your sleeve. 

“Hey, darlin’.” Joel says, looking up briefly.

You swallow, your gaze low. The guilt from not locking his truck again shouldn’t be this severe, since he seems to have forgotten about it already. 

“Where abouts you been for the past coupla hours?” Joel asked, poking and prodding with some tools you had no idea what the purpose of them was. 

“Out.” You mumble, busying yourself with the fridge—nothing inside but water, a whiskey flask, and a half-eaten sandwich. You grumble quietly, then shut the fridge, leaning back against the counter, gazing at Joel’s hunched back.

“Out.” Joel echoed. He’s silent for a long time. He sits up, looking over his shoulder at you, “What’s the Ellie stance for?” He asked.

You fix your stance, uncross your arms from your chest, “I’m not-” You defend yourself then Joel tsks. 

“Tch, no, you are. Acting like a damn teenager.” 

You huff, he knew you hated being called that. “I’m not.” You argue. 

Joel stayed quiet. Ever since those damn therapist appointments started he’s stopped picking up your arguments. Or he just stays quiet until you decide to engage with him. The whole ‘I’m not responsible for someone else’s emotional state’ had you surprised but also a little upset. Especially with how dependent you’d become on him. 

He didn’t mind of course, you’re his girl. But the frustration and slight guilt or the damn hormones you had, made your mood swing like no other.

After a few minutes of nothing but the tapping of the tools against the circuit board, you walk over to his chair, and sit on the floor next to it. Joel paused, sighing through his nose. “The hell are you doin’ on the floor?” he asked.

You sit on the floor in silence, fiddling with the laces of Joel’s boot, your fingers slow, almost absent-minded. The clinking of the tools fills the space, but it doesn’t cover the ache in your chest. You’re still carrying the guilt, the weight of disappointing him—even if it was just about a damn truck lock.

But maybe guilt isn’t the only thing pressing on you. 

You shift closer, resting your cheek on his thigh, under the table. You feel him pause. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets out a soft sigh through his nose. Then—

“Tch,” Joel tsks, his tone low. “No, darlin’. Not right now.”

Your fingers trail up, finding the buckle of his belt, toying with it lazily. His breath catches. You smirk a little to yourself.

“Honey, I said no.” His voice is firmer this time, but his hand never moves to stop you. That familiar tension in his body tells you everything.

You sit back on your heels and chuckle softly, gaze dropping to the front of his jeans. Your hand still fiddles with his belt, not unbuckling it, but more tapping against the buckle. You nudge your nose against his inner thigh, shutting your eyes at the feeling of the denim against your skin. 

Joel groans under his breath, setting his tools down with a small clink. He looks down at you, kneeling, his glasses sliding off his nose a bit, but he catches them with his index finger, pushing them back up.

“I hate when you’re mad at me,” you whispered, voice small.

“I ain’t mad.” he replied gruffly, but the way his hand makes its way to thread through your hair says otherwise. “Just worry about ‘cha.”

“I’m sorry.” you muttered. 

Joel furrowed his brows, “Sorry don’t mean crawlin’ under tables and actin’ like a brat.”

You huff, “You like when I act like a brat.” You joke, hoping the crease between his brows would relax.

Joel huffs a breath that would’ve been a laugh if he weren’t so focused on you knelt before him, “Ain’t the point.” He runs his hand through your hair, being careful not to snag any fingers on potential knots. 

He reaches down with a low grunt, his hands going under your arms to help you up off the floor, “Don't want your knees bruisin’.”

You let him lift you, despite feeling bad for the way he grunts as you settle into his lap. Joel noticed, of course, and just tutted at you, leaning back into his chair, his hands settling on your hips. You lean forward, chest to his, then nuzzle your face into his neck. He smelled like work, he always did, even before you got to Jackson. The musky smell of pine and leather, or as you called it, ‘the old man smell’ just to get a rise out of Joel.

Joel noticed your silence, which meant you were fighting with your thoughts on what to say, “You’re mine to look after.” He started, then cleared his throat, the vibration going through his chest to yours. 

“You don’t have to worry so much.” You muffled against his neck, shutting your eyes tightly.

“That’s like tellin’ the sun not to rise.” He gently grabs your face with one hand, then kisses your forehead. “Just… lock the damn truck next time,” He muttered, though there was no malice to his tone. 

“Yes, sir.” you mumble, your cheeks squished between his fingers.

Joel chuckles, releasing your face, then pressing another kiss to your forehead. His hands settle back onto your hips, rubbing up and down your sides slowly, feeling the curve of your waist. 

You study his face, seeing the more prominent crows feet up close, and the crease between his brows from concentrating too hard. Your thumb comes up to smooth the crease and Joel huffs. 

“That’s permanent, I know. My fault,” Joel started, already knowing you were about to say he worries too much. Again.

You only hum, leaning closer, your nose brushing against his, and breath hitting his lips. His hand slides up to your back, pressing down so you’d arch into him. 

“C’mere.” He grunts lowly, and you do. Your lips connect with his, gentle and slow.

Your hands come up to the collar of his jacket, tugging him closer, though there was already no air between you two. He groans against your lips, a hand sliding into your hair, the other still on your back. 

He gently tugs at the hair at the base of your neck, pulling back, just enough to take a breath, “Damn things are foggin’ up.” He muttered. 

You open your eyes, cheeks flushed, as Joel pulls back with a huff of annoyance. He takes his glasses off with one hand, setting them on the table behind you without looking. You whine quietly; partially from not thinking about his glasses getting in the way, but also because you liked when he kept his glasses on.

“Should’ve left them on,” You whisper, your fingers combing through the gray curls at the nape of his neck, “I like them.”

Joel chuckles lowly, rough and breathy. “Can’t see shit when they steam up like that.”

You peck the corner of his mouth, then trail down to his jaw, his beard scratching at your lips, “Still think you look good, Daddy.”

You reach back to grab his glasses, using your shirt to clean them.

His hand stills against your waist.

“Haven’t heard that in a while.” Joel says gruffly. Which only makes you giggle quietly.

“Nuh uh,” You argue, putting his glasses back on his face.

“Jesus,” he breathes before kissing you again – deeper this time.

Joel pulls back after a moment, just enough to speak, his voice low and breathing a bit labored. “Go put somethin’ on. You like that one with the creepy stalker singin’ about love, right?”

You blink, lips red and swollen, “Every Breath You take? That is not creepy, it’s sweet.” 

Joel scoffs, giving your hip a pat. “Baby, the man’s talkin’ about watchin’ her every move. That’s not love, that’s a restrainin’ order.”

You slip off of his lap and sigh. “Whatever. You’d stalk me if I left.”

Joel snorts, picking his tools back up, “I’d just follow the sound of you talkin’ shit under your breath.”

You glare at him over your shoulder as you walk into the living room, flipping through the stack of vinyls he had gotten you over the years. You hum happily as the needle drops onto the spinning record, the guitar riff filling the house as you turn it up.

“Goddammit, girl.” Joel put his tools back down, realizing you turned it up way too loud for his liking despite his half deaf ass.

You flop onto the couch, laying on your stomach, using your forearms as a pillow. You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps as you’re met with his thighs in your face, standing by the couch. 

“You know it’s creepy, right?” He murmurs, moving your hair out of your face. 

“And you know you’re old, right?” You shoot back, which only earns you a playful swat on your ass. You squeal and giggle, but huff when Joel turns the turntable volume down.

“I still got you.” Joel said, walking over to the couch, moving your legs so he can sit down. 

“Barely. All I get is beard trimmings in the sink and grunts now.” You huff, even if you’re only teasing him.

“Grunts, huh?”

“Mhm. And that one look you get when you’re about to say something mean but decide to kiss me instead.” 

Joel rubs your thigh, making you turn to lay on your back, and coax your head into his lap, “Such a terrible way of livin’.” He teased.

You only hum, turning your head in his lap, to be faced with his stomach, starting to play with the buttons of his flannel. He kept talking.

“-and Maria wants so many things done before Spring, I also reckon Tommy’s been lyin’ to me lately,” Joel rambled. Shit, was he talking? Too late, you’re focused on something else right now.

You manage to unbutton about three of the buttons at the bottom of his flannel, lifting it up to kiss his stomach, making Joel stop his talking and look down at you, keeping his glasses on his nose with his index finger. 

“Y’keep doing that,” He warns, “and I’m gonna take it as an invitation.”

You sit up a bit, “What if it is?” 

Joel takes his glasses off, “You wanna start somethin’ right now, sweetheart? While that creepy-ass record’s still playin’?”

You chuckle, “I don’t hear you getting up to change it.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you, more hungry this time. Your hands are in his hair again before you realize it, and he groans. His hands trail under your shirt, warm and slow as he traces your spine. You lift your arms, and Joel rolls your shirt up, tossing it to the floor.

He lays you back on the couch with a short grunt, settling between your thighs, his flannel almost completely open. Oh, how did that happen? The sight made you giggle

“Goddamn-”

Knock knock.

The front door swings open. 

“Hey, Joel, you – OH MY GOD.”

Joel freezes. You blink, lifting yourself up to look over his shoulder, hair a mess, and shirt gone, but it was enough to give the full picture.

Dina stands in the doorway, her hand over her mouth.

Joel sighs like he just aged another five years, “Dina, for the love of-”

“Nope! No, no, nope,” she says, already backing out, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t see anything, swear to God.”

The door shuts with a clatter.

For a second, you both just stare at the now-shut door. Your heart’s still racing, not just from being caught half-naked, but from the warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours. He hasn’t moved. Neither have you. And maybe that’s the funniest part; how normal it feels to be interrupted like this.

Joel rests his forehead between your breasts, and groans into the skin, “She’s never gonna let me live that down.”

You chuckle, your hand still tangled in his hair, “She’s gonna tell Ellie, too.”

Joel groans louder, his cheeks dusted pink as he rests his chin on your sternum, “Goddammit.”

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for dating Clark Kent

Clark Kent x reader

warnings: spoilers + alcohol and violence n such

a/n: 😏 im in a flow state rn

prompt: anonymous: “Hello! If I may ask, what are some hcs of Superman/clark as a bf? Much thanks!”

you met clark in college while he was studying journalism

he was always kind and gentle, some of the most attractive qualities in a man

everything about him was a green flag

“would you ever want to study with me sometime?” -clark after class

“as long as you bring the coffee” -you

“well in that case, would you write down your coffee order on here for me?” -clark, handing you a sticky note with emojis printed on them and you giggled “my ma got those for me”

you guys had frequent study dates until finals, but clark took forever to actually ask you out. literally you didn’t go on a real date until after finals that semester

after that you guys were THE couple. the sweethearts. inseparable.

clark never really showed interest in parties or drinking, he liked the simpler, quieter things

but he didn’t mind being dragged along every once in a while though

“i just dont like the taste” -clark turning down a beer bc he cant get drunk and he was bad at acting it

he was your biggest cheerleader

“you’re gonna do great, keep your head up!” -clark

“thanks clark, but it’s just picking up our takeout order?” -you

his parents adored you soooo much they were the sweetest people in the world you met them over winter break one year and they gifted you a novelty ornament with yours and clark’s names on it and made you hang it on the tree yourself as an “initiation ritual” lol

“you’re apart of the family now!” -martha coming to hug you as tight as possible

“let them breathe, martha” -john

“ma, you’re embarrassing me!” -clark

“oh, nonsense, i’m just welcomin’ my future child-in-law to the kent family. aint that right, dear?” -martha

“oh, yes, i feel very welcome, thank you” -you “now, i’d love to see some baby pictures of clark”

“have i got the book for you!” -martha

it was over winter break that you found out clark’s big secret when he used his ice breath to put out a small fire in the kitchen

“too much grease in the pan, pa!” -clark

“ah, the grease makes the bacon taste better. then you cook the eggs in the same pan, it’s fine” -john

“it’s not fine if the house burns down” -clark

*you standing in the living room in shock because he forgot you were present and used his powers without even thinking since he was home*

“what just happened?” -you

*cue horrified expression from clark*

“you’re keeping secrets from your partner, clark?” -martha

“no, ma, i was keeping the secret, there’s a difference” -clark

“well, no need for that anymore, y/n’s apart of the family” -martha

“okay, seriously, what just happened?” -you

clark finally explained what/who he was to you and apologized like a million times for not telling you sooner

and he begged you not to leave

which never crossed your mind he was just super anxious about it

you told him you understood why he’d want to keep it a secret and you weren’t mad, you wanted to know more

“well a lot of things are starting to make sense now. i was wondering how you managed to get across campus so fast when your classes were so far apart” -you

“yeah…don’t tell ma and pa about that, please” -clark

they didn’t like when he almost exposed himself as an alien. last thing they needed were the feds at their door

you and clark soon graduated and decided to conquer metropolis together

first order of business was to find a new coffee shop to frequent

“there’s one around the corner. it’s the apartment” -clark

“it doesn’t have great reviews online” -you

“o-kay, there’s another one three blocks away. a nice morning stroll?” -clark

“hmm, is it safe enough to walk in the morning?” -you

“well, i think if you’re walking with your boyfriend who has super strength and can fly you’re statistically pretty safe” -clark

“ohhh, i almost forgot” -you, kissing him on the cheek

you guys got a nice little starter apartment and decorated it…as best as you could

“no, we are not putting your mighty crabjoys poster in the living room!” -you

“what?! they’re a great band, why cant we have them in the living room? we don’t have anything else to put on the walls” -clark

“clark you cant be serious” -you

“crabjoys are going on the wall” -clark

you lost that battle. for now.

once clark started his job at the daily planet, he would come home a little stressed

took him a while to find his footing

but you did your best to cheer him

“i got your favorite movie and some popcorn!” -you

“oh, my god, i love you so much” -clark hugging you almost too tight

he loved cuddling on the couch it was such a soft intimate thing for him

he’d throw popcorn at you if you stopped paying attention to the movie

“i’ll clean it up dont worry” -clark

he loves giving kisses all over your head but he MELTS if you kiss him on the cheek or forehead hes so silly about it

breakfast for dinner woop woop

“i made breakfast for dinner!” -clark

“again?” -you

“yes but i picked up your favorite fresh fruit so you cant be mad” -clark

“i’m not mad! but we are having pizza tomorrow night” -you

“deal” -clark

he lifts all the heavy furniture while you vacuum

you visit him at the daily planet sometimes and he is always so excited when he sees you. like he hasn’t seen you in years.

“y/n!! guys look, my partner’s here!” -clark meeting you halfway through the room just to walk you back to where he was

“nice to see you, y/n. we still on for drinks friday?” -lois

“you know it!” -you

“can i come?” -jimmy

“only if you don’t flirt with y/n again” -lois

“cant help it, it just happens” -jimmy

“wait, jimmy flirts with you?” -clark

“no! no i dont!” -jimmy

“clark! what have i told you about bringing your partner to work!” -perry “good to see you, y/n”

“you too, perry” -you

“perry? he let’s you call him perry?” -jimmy

“yeah, i mean, i don’t work here?” -you

oh yeah you brought lunch you and clark went and hid in the breakroom to eat

it was his favorite chinese food dish

“you’re not getting bored, are you?” -you

“of what? of you? no! of course not, why would you ask that?” -clark

“just of life. things have been pretty quiet since we moved here” -you

“no way! we try something new every weekend! last weekend we tried that escape room, that was fun!” -clark

“yeah, except when you used your x-ray vision to speedrun it!” -you

“we made record time, our picture is on the wall in their lobby now!” -clark

yeah but you had a feeling he wanto shake things up

he walked you down to the daily planet lobby and said goodbye with a kiss and an “i love you”

and when he got home he talked about the next new thing you’d try, which was a fusion restaurant

metropolis was actually so interesting and fun compared to what you guys came from

but one day your life was turned upside down when clark revealed himself to the world as superman

you were scared and excited and freaked out all at the same time

“superman? couldn’t get anymore creative than that?” -you

“i think it’s just fine—simple and to the point” -clark

“clark, you’re wearing underwear on the outside of your suit” -you

“it is not underwear, it is a stylistic choice” -clark

“alright, well, the rest of the suit looks great” -you as clark approaches “love the little curl you got going on up here”

“thanks, i did my hair myself” -clark as you reached for his face to kiss him

“i can tell” -you

he lifted you off the ground when he levitated off the ground a little

and after that, superman was the guardian of metropolis

it was cool at first. a little scary.

but it could get lonely sometimes

especially when more and more supervillains started to reveal themselves

and clark would have to rush out to save the day

he’d always make it up to you, though

“i got your favorite pastry from that bakery you like!” -clark after defeating another enemy

“apology for leaving the restaurant last night?” -you

“yes…” -clark

“apology accepted” -you

on quieter nights when you guys actually got some sleep, clark was always the big spoon

it was a little protective, but also very comfortable

he’d play with your hair and scratch your back while you relaxed

and he’d talk about your future together and how great things were and his plans as a journalist

if you ever needed to vent about work or life he’d be there to listen

“yeah and then this absolute monster from marketing was trying to explain how my job works” -you

“what a loser!” -clark

“i have some stronger words than loser” -you

“let’s not use those words” -clark

you were taken to the fortress of solitude once. too cold

you were shown the message from his parents and the robots and all that

“clark it is freezing can we go home now?” -you

“yes of course” -clark

he made you hot cocoa

and everything was relatively fine until “the hammer of boravia” incident where clark lost his first battle

and you were watching the news in horror

“clark, you almost died!” -you

“nuh-uh. look, im fine!” -clark

“you are so not fine! what happened?!” -you

“well the guy was really strong. i got to the fortress on time, though. krypto helped!” -clark

“kara’s dog helped? the dog that never listens and destroys everything in his path?” -you

“thats the one” -clark

you’d already met the “justice gang” and upon seeing them again in metropolis when the big fire breathing lizard dinosaur monster thing attacked, kendra came to gossip with you

AFTER everyone was safe of course

“so he lost to that hammer guy?” -kendra

“i guess so, yeah. weird, right? i mean, he healed himself but that guy kind of kicked his ass” -you

“weird. and how’s he taking the loss?” -kendra

“oh he’s ‘fine’” -you with air quotes

“of course he is” -kendra, sarcastically

with the distraction of the giant evil fire lizard thing, little did you know lex luthor was at the fortress of solitude trying to find a way to stop superman once and for all

and suddenly the whole US government was gunning for him

“i have to turn myself in y/n. that way i can clear my name” -clark

“no you don’t! do not do that, that is the worst plan” -you

“it’ll be fine. i’ll just explain to them that i never saw the second part of my parents message and im not here to conquer the earth” -clark :)

“don’t like that plan, let’s go into hiding” -you

“i’ll be back before you know it, trust me” -clark

you went to lois for help

“he WHAT?!” -lois

she came to help you out with the justice gang

“guy can you just like. be helpful please. for once?” -you

“y/n, i am so helpful. im a green lantern!” -guy

“no, they’re right, you’re so not helpful” -lois

lois was becoming your ride or die fr

“guy, my boyfriend is literally being held prisoner by the government, can you get up and move?” -you

“he’s a big boy, he can handle himself. definitely doesn’t need his little partner going to save him” -guy

“man im gonna—” -you, charging

“you’re not gonna beat up a green lantern, y/n, let’s get out of here” -lois, holding you back “we’ll key his car on the way out”

mr. terrific decided to help and by that point you were soooo exhausted you were just worried you’d never see clark again

“so is clark usually like…clark at home or is he more super-y at home?” -lois

“i mean, superman and clark have almost zero differences. just the glasses really” -you

“where’d you meet?” -michael

“college” -you

“did he tell you he was an alien or did you find out on your own?” -michael

“uhh, i saw him put out a fire with his ice breath at his parents house when i was visiting for christmas, actually. why are you guys asking me questions about clark?” -you

“just curious. he’s odd” -lois

“in a good way” -michael

“so he really is just that nice?” -lois

“yeah but he’s got a little attitude too” -you

the clark gossip went on the whole trip but you made sure to add how nice and sweet and amazing he was

when you got to the military base you were shocked to see the portal he was led to

“he’s in there?! terrific, you have to get him out, who knows what’s back there!” -you

“that is the plan, y/n” -michael

when clark finally escaped he was pretty roughed up, but when he saw you he was panicked

“y/n? y/n, you shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe! luthor…he’ll kill you to get to me” -clark

“shh, everything’s fine. we’ll figure it out” -you

you gave lois directions to the kent family farm

and tended to clark in terrific’s ship

you had his head in your lap and brushe dyou hands through his hair, which always eased his troubled mind

he’d teeter in and out of consciousness and recognize you

“i love you” -clark

“i love you, too” -you

“i love youu” -clark

“yes, sweetie, i love you too” -you

“love you!” -clark

“you’re gonna make me throw up” -lois

“i’ll make dinner tonight. and i’ll probably even buy you a ring. nice one. big diamond” -clark

“okay, clark, rest your eyes” -you

“he ever talk about proposing before?” -lois, giggling

“nope. let’s pretend he didn’t” -you

“me and jimmy will make sure he does it right” -lois

“oh, great” -you

you got to the kent family farm and immediately greeted your “soon to be in-laws” and got clark settled, easing their minds and letting them know everything would be okay

and they used this rare impromptu visit to catch up with you

“y/n, dear, how are you two? is everything good in the big city? how is your new apartment? are you hungry? let me make you something to eat!” -martha

you sat by clark’s bedside all night and when he woke up he was so glad you were okay

“i’m not the one who almost died!” -you

“well, how was i supposed to know he had a guy that could make his hand into kryptonite?” -clark

“well, that’s why we don’t turn ourselves into the government and let ourselves be led into a portal to a pocket dimension where hundreds of people are being held prisoner by lex luthor!” -you

“honest mistake, could have happened to anyone” -clark

then it was the big choice between the black hole about to swallow metropolis and the war in boravia

metropolis took priority since the place was being torn apart, you and lois flew back in terrific’s ship much to clark’s dismay

“that’s our home, clark. i have to go back and help in any way i can” -you

you stuck with the daily planet crew and hopped on the “lets take down lex luthor” train

and caught a glimpse of clark flying around every few minutes

you felt queasy and not from standing in flying spaceship that lois was driving like a crazy person

“you think we’re all gonna die in this black hole?” -you

“if you keep talking like that, yeah probably” -jimmy

“superman’s gonna save the day, i know he is!” -cat

“thanks, cat. i need your optimism” -you

clark was getting his ass handed to him by “other clark”

and you were soooo having a panic attack

“i think my apartment building was just ripped in half” -you

“you can stay with me, plenty of room in casa olsen” -jimmy

“jimmy!” -lois

“what? clark can too, wherever that guy is” -jimmy

“he’s visiting his parents” -you

“bet you wish you were too, not flying around in this giant ball” -jimmy

when the dust finally settled, you were mortified by the damage in metropolis, but so glad clark was okay

“i thought you were a goner” -you

“nope, still standing. thanks to krypto here” -clark petting krypto

“good boy, krypto!” -you, petting him

he slobbered on u a little

“maybe we should take a vacation sometime soon” -clark

“don’t mess with me, clark. that’s all a want after this crazy week” -you

“then it’s done, we’ll have a nice relaxing vacation” -clark

“oh, you’re the best” -you, running into him for a hug

“i’m glad you’re okay, y/n” -clark

“glad you’re okay, too. that was terrifying” -you

“wanna get out of here?” -clark

“please” -you

Bonus:

“your cousin is home” -4

“kara!!” -you

“hey, hey! missed you bunches” -kara, stumbling into a hug

“i wish we could go get drinks together, sucks you can’t get drunk on earth” -you

“you could always come to another planet with me! the parties are sooo fun” -kara

“nope. absolutely not. nope” -clark

“oh, come on! y/n would love it out in space. wouldn’t you?” -kara

“i wouldn’t know quite yet, now would i?” -you

“see? they wouldn’t even know! totally means we should go” -kara

“worst idea ever. no offense” -clark

taglist: @summersimmerus // NEW DC TAGLIST — DC UNIVERSE REBOOTED — SEND AN ASK TO BE ADDED

[yallternitive]

Backstabber PT. 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: Bucky and Yelena kiss while on a mission. You may have overreacted to the news.

Takes place during Thunderbolts, no spoilers so you’re safe.

Small angst, minorly depressing backstory, suggestive humor and fluff.

I may rewrite this chapter with more depth and clarity, admittedly I do this in my free time and I don’t have much of that. I’m a wife with 3 kids but this is fun for me to do!

If your brain didn’t prevent you from feeling every single heartbeat in your chest, you’d very likely go insane. For some reason, your brain decided to show you how…painful, a beating heart could be. It pounded against your chest. Suddenly you forgot how to breathe.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask, panting, and at this point you’re unsure if it’s from the training or the news that just knocked the wind out of you.

“Uh, yeah…I’m sorry man but it’s killing me that no one has told you. I’m not sure why this is a secret. Bucky and Yelena kissed. On their mission. I know it was for-for a reason? I guess you could say. It didn’t mean anything. But that’s not the problem. The problem is they didn’t tell you. But…somehow we all know.” You nod, hands on your hips as you clear your throat. Your chest feels so heavy, like an anchor you’re trying so desperately to outswim before it pulls you down.

“Right. If they have nothing to hide, I don’t see why they wouldn’t have told me. Do they know you’re telling me now?” You ask, taking a sip from your water, trying not to cry even though your eyes are stinging, just on the brink of defeat.

“No, no I don’t think so. If it wasn’t gonna be me it would have been Bob. He’s…distressed, you could say.” You nod, wiping your hand down your face.

“I knew it. I knew you were all acting strange. Bucky just told me I was paranoid.” John chuckles, shaking his head.

“Unless he genuinely doesn’t think he did anything wrong.”

“What about Yelena?” He shakes his head.

“Haven’t really talked to her. She clearly isn’t bothered. Probably not the first time she’s had to get close with a coworker on the job. I truly don’t think they think anything of it. Just another day at work. Well, if it’s another day at work, why can’t you know about it?” You nod, pacing back and forth and point at him.

“Bring them here. Training session.” You put your attention back to the punching bag, letting your thought run wild. Everything that lead you here. How you met Bucky. The Thunderbolts.

You were the only success from years and years of hydras attempt to make a natural born super soldier. Both your parents were subjects to receive, at the time, the highest grade Super Soldier Serum. Your father a mad scientist, not a fighter by any means. But his body accepted the serum. Your mother, you never knew her name. She was killed a year after you were born, only kept around long enough to breastfeed you. Your father said she was nobody. You could only imagine what she went through. You didn’t know her name, but you gave her enough respect to call her your mother. You thought, you were a disgrace. A failure. No super powers. Not special by your father’s standards. First, you were a girl. And as a scientist, at least he understood that was his fault and not your mother’s. You quickly discovered as a young teenager you had a photographic memory. You could also see what your opponent would do before they themselves even knew. You always had the upper hand. You weren’t super strong, you weren’t super fast or resilient. You had natural gifts likely due to the serum your parents each had, but you were still a failure. A failure.

“-N)!” You snap out it it, turning to look at Bucky who was trying to pull you out of the trance you had found yourself in.

“Doll, are you alright? What-what’s going on?” He asks, looking down at you with such concern. His hands wipe away the tears that were spilling over your cheeks. You shake your head and push him away.

“Fight me Barnes” he steps back and holds his hands up. “Whoa what, come on. I’m not going to fight you. Not when you’re in such an emotional state. What’s going on?” You toss a knife in his direction and he turns his head, catching it.

“(Y/N). Come on.” His eyes become focused and serious. “I don’t know what the deal is, but we can talk about this.” You charged him and launched your knee into his chest. He just took it, stumbling back. He turns to look at John. “What did you do?” He asks and John just laughs and holds his hands up.

“Only what you should have done when you got home.” Bucky’s eyes soften and he sighs, looking down and you.

“Doll. Please.” You push him away. “We were about to be made. Things would have gotten much worse had they seen us. It didn’t mean anything.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“You think I don’t know that, James? You seriously think I’m mad BECAUSE you kissed? Of course not! I’d make out with John if it meant we left our mission with our lives! I’m MAD because you didn’t tell me! And on top of didn’t tell me, literally everyone else knew EXCEPT me, how does that happen, Bucky?!” He gulps, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N) truthfully I don’t know how anyone else knows. We weren’t going to say anything. As far as we were concerned it never happened. Had I known everyone else knew I’d have gone out of my way to make sure you heard it from me before anyone else.” He sighs, hands on his hips and looking over at John. “How did you know? Who told you?”

“Bob.”

“Uh huh. And who told Bob.” We all look at each other.

“Val.” We all say in unison and roll our eyes. “She has eyes everywhere.” You look at Bucky and sigh.

“I’m still mad.” You smirk and he chuckles.

“If you still wanna spar, you can let that anger out on me. I’d never win anyway.” He shrugs. You laugh.

“I can think of a different way I’d like to let my anger out.” You smirk.

“Yuck. I’m out. Good luck with that.” John leaves, you can feel the cringe leave his body as he exits.

“I’m gonna kill Val.”

“Get in line, Doll.”

TAGS:

@marinastudiesart

@vxllys

@teenwolfbitches28

@purplefluffycows

@bucky-baby-barnes

@xhazzz

@ordelixx

@sebastianstan0813

[qlossytbh]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 in which you and spencer almost say i love you four times and one time where you actually do.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 16+ minors dni!, fem!reader, established relationship, spencer is down bad, so is reader tho, idiots in love, they’re both lowkey rlly hormonal bro, pet names (love, handsome), this one’s a rollercoaster, fluff, angst, lots of suggestiveness because reader likes to tease lol, allusions to smut (didn’t actually write it tho sorry!) fighting, spencer kinda acts like a bitch, makeoutshesh, mentions of reader being insecure of her physical appearance, mentions of typical cm content, mentions of blood, mentions of reader getting hurt, protective!spencer, derek and reader have a cute friendship, lots of mentions of maeve so spoilers on that end, pls let me know if i forgot anything!!!,

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 8.1k (damn)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i had many cute loose concepts and i kinda meshed it all into one fic. this is also loosely based on birds of a feather by billie eilish! im in love with this piece ugh

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time

“You look different,” Derek mumbled, mostly to himself, but loud enough to catch on. You turned towards his voice. The only thing different was that Hotch had let you come in later than your usual schedule since you had a random doctor's appointment— Oh, and the recently purchased light-blue button up you were wearing.

Your brows furrowed at Derek, one hand adjusting the strap of the purse that hung loosely on your shoulder as a light brown bag sat comfortably in the other. “Different..?”

Emily followed Derek, joining in as she glanced over at you from her own respective desk. “Actually he’s right,”

“I’m wearing a new shirt..?” You fiddled with the first button of your shirt, pursing your lips in bewilderment.

“No—“ Emily squinted at you. “It’s something else..”

Your mouth hung slightly open, not really sure how to respond to their prying eyes. They both were glancing at you, then at each other, then you again, but this time up and down—

“I hope it’s a good difference,” You commented as you waltzed past them and towards your boyfriend's desk. Spencer was hunched over at his desk, eyes practically burning holes into the files that sat in front of him.

His lips were pursed familiarly, just like he always did when he was so concentrated, along with the familiar furrow in his brow. His hair was tousled, a strand or two falling flat in front of his forehead. He looked so good it made you dizzy.

An instinctive smile had already reached your face once you made it to his desk. You leaned over him, slapping the brown bag on top of the files he was reading. He flinched slightly, but nevertheless, was finally pulled out of his deep concentration pool. You placed your palms on his shoulders, running them down his chest as you leaned over to hug him from behind.

You placed a kiss underneath his ear. “Hi handsome,”

He sank in his desk, realizing it was only just you and immediately easing. He hummed placidly, entranced by the sound of your sickeningly sweet voice. You pulled away to which he took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder at you.

You gave him a soft smile, one you used that made his heart soar. How your eyes grew lenient and lips curved gently upwards as you scanned as much of his features as your brain could possibly take in.

You placed both hands on his shoulder and nudged your chin towards the bag. “Brought you your favorite,”

His hands were already on the bag before you could say anything else and when he looked inside he was in fact correct on his suspicions when he saw two chocolate sprinkled doughnuts.

They smelled heavenly and he knew they were enough to cure his very major and very much present sweet tooth he had woken up with this morning. A large uncontrollable smile slapped right onto his face as he opened his mouth. “I—“

He stopped, clamping his mouth shut abruptly.

Thank god. He swallowed those three words that had nearly left his mouth, pushing them right back into the back of his throat before the damage could be done.

It wouldn’t necessarily be the first time this week where he let the confession accidentally slip. He realized that as of recently, he would catch himself with more and more of a necessity to tell you how he felt.

The two of you started seeing each other romantically about six months back. It was completely out of nowhere when he asked you out for the first time. The second— and third, and fourth and continuing times after were more than expected.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to realize how much of an importance the other partook in your day to day basis, even despite being friends for so long prior to the dating.

And everyday he saw you he felt this big tightening in his chest that made it actually impossible for him to breathe. He felt all this pent up emotion that was getting harder for him to manage with every passing day.

It scared him, how much he cared about you. How much he wanted you to be a part of his everyday life and how much he wanted to tell you how it made him feel— how you made him feel.

But that fear was exactly the reason why he’d clamp his mouth shut every single time he felt like he wanted to tell you.

“I—uhm,” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, really I—“

You watched him, titling your head to the side with a prying gaze. “Have I ever told you how amazingly perfect you are?”

You purse your lips, leaning over his shoulder and pretending to be deep in thought. “I’m not sure— I think you’re gonna need to jog up my memory.”

He shook his head, huffing a laugh as you leaned down and pressing a long kiss onto his lips. You hummed in contentment, feeling the fuzziness in your chest reach every nerve in your body.

“Hey,” You pulled away, glaring over at Derek from Spencer’s desk. “Calm your hormones or I’m telling Hotch to hit HR up,”

“Actually hormones aren’t something you can consciously control, they’re a biological response to situations we find—“ Spencer quipped, earning a loud groan from Morgan.

You rolled your eyes, looking down at Spencer and reaching a hand up, running it ploddingly through his thick brown curls. “Are you coming over tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah,”

“Looking forward to it,” You pecked his lips once more. Before rounding his desk and making a b-line for your own.

Spencer scanned you up and down as you waltzed away, not realizing you were wearing the shirt you bought last weekend. The one that enhanced the beauty of your hair and skin color, mapping a perfect picture he wanted to get lost looking at. He also couldn’t fail to avoid the way the shirt deliciously hugged every curve and bump your body had to offer. And those dress pants—

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning internally. He then thumped his forehead onto his desk, cheeks blazing with heat, knowing he was more screwed than anyone in this whole building, a lost cause if you will.

As you strutted past Derek and Emily’s desk towards your own, Emily gasped loudly. “I think I finally got it,”

“Yeah, I completely agree with you,” Derek followed. You looked at them both quizzically.

“Could it be?— No,” Emily gasped once again and you immediately noticed that it was fake, alarming you of whatever game they were getting at.

“Yeah, I think it’s finally happened.” Derek leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue and smirking over at you. “Pretty girl here is in love,”

Your cheeks turned hot, as your eyebrows shot up defensively. “What?”

Derek liked to say the two of you were still in your ‘honeymoon phase’ and you couldn’t disagree with him— it was the most accurate description of your relationship with Spencer.

But saying in love triggered something— physically and emotionally.

“No wonder she looks so different,” Emily tutted. “She’s got that ‘happy in love’ glow to her.”

“Shut up,” You have the strap of your purse on a death grip as you opened your mouth to protest but failed miserably as all the words died in the back of your throat. Thank god Spencer seemed preoccupied with the donut you had just given him.

“I’m—“ You shuffled, slapping yourself internally. Way to give it away. “You guys need to find a better hobby.”

And with blazing cheeks, a dry throat and a concerning pattering heart blaring against your throat, you stalked your way back to your desk.

The second time

“But that isn’t fair Spencer!” You groaned, gripping your bag as if your life depended on it. “You can’t expect to save everyone and then blame yourself when it doesn’t go well,”

There had been a sensitive case today, clearly an unsuccessful one. Spencer, like usual, jumped at the first opportunity to start blaming himself— for not being quicker, for not being smarter.. Whatever reason he could nitpick at, he was currently doing so.

You tore your purse off your body and tossed it into a small basket by your front door. You roughly tore your heels off, slightly relieved at the feeling off the palms of your feet on the wooden floor.

“There were flaws in the profile— flaws in the geographical profile,” He huffed, frustrated, filling every fiber of his words. He tore his satchel off his body, grabbing his files from it prior and slapping them onto your coffee table. “We couldn’t even correctly pinpoint the Unsubs M.O before he started sadistically killing again, we couldn’t—“

You felt for him, you truly did. Spencer was one of the most kind hearted, considerate people you knew, but that came with a lot of self-demands. He had to be everything at once, and be there for everyone at once and if he didn’t reach the bar he’d set up for himself, this would happen.

He pushed past you and towards your kitchen. “Spence, we aren’t going to solve every case, no matter how good our work may be.”

“You think I don’t know that? The average percent of homicides cleared or "solved" is 60 to 65 but around 35 to 40 percent go unsolved.” You opened your fridge, grabbing a pitcher of water and grabbing a glass from your cabinet as you listened to Spencer.

“35 to 40 percent, do you know how high that is?!” He stressed. You realized his irritation was heavy because he was reaching his peak of rambling.

Spencer just couldn’t stand when things like this happened. When people did horrible things and got the luxury of roaming free— he couldn’t help but feel like he was at fault for that. If he was just quicker, or smarter maybe they would’ve caught whatever bastard was terrorizing people.

“I know you know that!” You huffed a breath of frustration. “But that’s the way this job works Spence!”

“What would you know about how this job works?” He turned, hot on his heels, facing you with an indescribable exasperation pooling around his eyes.

You stopped in your tracks, looking up at him sharply and setting the still empty glass of water and pitcher back onto the table “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes were deeply upset— cold and hard and so much different from the soft and welcoming gaze of your partner. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler. You joined the team around three years after the rest of us.”

You stared at him with incredulity. When in a relationship with somebody, as well as learning all of their admirable virtues, you also learn their defects. And one of Spencer’s defects was that he had no filter whatsoever when he got angry. He just said the first thing that came to mind and spit it out and towards whichever person was unlucky enough to fall victim.

Not that the two of you fought often because you quite literally never did— but you’d see him pissed at people and his petty side sometimes felt the need to make an appearance.

You, however, had never had to experience this firsthand. You’d seen it happen at work, with JJ, with Derek, with the press. But two of you had never spoken to each other the way you were doing now. And if he thought you were gonna let him slide, he’s got another thing coming.

“What about Rossi?” You challenged as you crossed your arms across your chest. “I was accepted into the team just months after he was, you’re gonna tell him he wouldn’t know the first thing about being a profiler?”

“That’s different—“

“How?” Your veins were pumping with adrenaline. Your fingers shook violently, and the back of your throat suddenly burned with the need to cry. “I had jobs before getting called into the BAU, and I busted my ass off in college—“

“It’s not the same!” He spat. “You had never worked with the team before, it took you months to learn how we processed things, how we handled them.”

You could visually see Spencer bite down on his tongue only now attempting to reel himself down back to earth. And if you didn’t know him better, you wouldn’t be able to recognize the identifiable regret that appeared in his eyes while you continued on.

“And who are you to hold that against me Spencer?”

He swallowed thickly and let out a heavy sigh. You ran a frustrated hand through your curled hair. “All i’m saying is that—“

“I know what this job is like, which is why I’m telling you to get out of your goddamn head.” You didn’t scream at him, but there was a firmness in your voice that could scare practically anyone off.

“The things that have happened, happened today or will happen are never going to be in our control,” You told him. “Never.”

“Just because you’re angry and pissed does not give you a free card to attack me,” You slammed the glass cup onto the counter and pushed past him, making your way out of the kitchen. Spencer didn’t follow you to your room, he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

So as your bedroom door slammed shut, he stalked over to your couch, opening up the paper files onto your coffee table, and rerunning them once again. He wasn’t able to concentrate at all though, knowing you were in the other room tossed in bed and probably crying because of him.

A few long hours later, Spencer closed his files and looked over towards your door. There had been no noise emitted whatsoever from your room, which he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He felt like an idiot. Presumably so, he was so stupid for just lashing out like that on you. Your intentions were never ill intended, yet he still pushed you away and he hated himself for that.

He stood up, making his way into your kitchen and grabbing the empty glass. He poured some water into it and went over to your door.

You were lying down, blankets wrapped around you protectively as your back faced him. He couldn’t help but smile, feeling the endearment tighten in his chest.

You stirred in your sleep as the bed sunk beside you, groaning softly. Spencer hovered over you, setting down the glass of water on the nightstand beside your head.

“Hey,” His voice was very soft, maybe even enough to send you back into the nap you were in— until you remembered what had happened earlier and thought that maybe talking to him was a better idea.

Your eyes burned and your head hurt. You sniffed away the buildup that the crying had caused. You then blinked away the grogginess from your eyes, along with the slight burning sensation due to the tears you had shed earlier. “Hey,”

Your sleepy voice was enough to send Spencer into a whirlwind. It tugged at the strings of his heart and all he wanted to do right now was grab you in his arms and hold you there forever.

He laid on his side beside you, running a soft hand across your arm with the encouragement for you to turn around and face him.

A slight sense of anxiety was coursing through him. He was scared that a part of you was still mad at the way he spoke to you, and the worst part was that he couldn’t blame you, because he had in fact acted like an idiot.

You blinked up at him from over your shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Around nine?” You hummed, flipping on your side and turning to face him. Spencer slapped at the nerves inside him and shifted slightly in his position.

“Hey,” He reached his hand over to yours and intertwined his fingers with your own. “Were you crying?”

“Yeah,” His tone hadn’t been patronizing or ridicule intended, it was more so concerned. You reached up to rub your eye.“You were pretty fucking mean.”

Spencer wanted to kick himself. Truly. There wasn’t anything else to say but how utterly stupid he had been for causing you any type of harm when his main promise was to prevent you from any of it.

“You should drink some water,” He lifted himself up by his elbow, hovering over you again and reaching for the glass.

“I’m not thirsty,” You mumbled, snuggling closer into your pillow.

“You should still drink love, you haven’t had a single drop of water since we got here and you’re probably dehydrated,” You didn’t look at him. “I added those watermelon electrolytes you like so much.”

You peered at the glass, suddenly feeling deathly thirsty. With a huff, you reached for the glass. “Fine,”

You downed the whole drink in a matter of seconds, melting at the taste of the sweet watermelon tartness on your tongue. Once you finished the glass, you handed it back to Spencer who set it on the opposite nightstand.

“Can we talk?” You nodded. “I’m sorry,”

You looked up at him, opting him to continue. “I shouldn’t have snapped the way I did. You were trying to help me, and by attempting to push you away I said stuff I really, really shouldn’t have and I’m so sorry,”

With a few seconds of silence, you reached down, intertwining both of your hands. Your thumb glided over his knuckles as you listened to him.

You mumbled. “It’s okay Spence,”

He shook his head. “It’s not, honestly. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”

Yeah, good point.

“I know,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But you said that you're sorry and next time we’ll learn how to manage these things a little more efficiently.”

You quickly pulled his arm over your body and scooted forward, too tired to dwell in an emotionally exhausting conversation, nuzzling your face into his neck while his arms instinctively tightened around your frame. “We’ll get the hang of this, okay?”

There was silence after that. One that could’ve been filled by anything, honestly.

Those three words were all you wanted to say right then and there. It had been on your mind a lot recently, how Spencer was making you feel a ton of scary and big and complicated feelings— all amazing but terrifying. And those three words felt the most accurate when it came to telling him how you felt about him.

You really wanted to tell him at that moment. You don’t know where the necessity came from but it hit you like a tidal wave. Strong and capricious. Uncontrollable almost.

But then the fear settled in and you’d obstruct yourself from doing so.

So you didn’t say it, even though you may have wanted to.

Instead you just held him tighter and nuzzled into him as close as you physically could, hoping that somehow the message would get across. He placed a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Okay.”

The third time

You smiled into the kiss, tugging at his hair as you leaned back, supporting yourself solely on his grip around your lower back. Your legs rested on either side of him, sitting in his lap while his hands raked across your back in a way that made you feverish.

His lips moved swiftly across yours. He squeezed your hips, fingertips slipping just slightly underneath your shirt. You shivered at the contrast of his cold fingertips against your blazing skin. Spencer pulled away, voice breathy. “Is this okay..?”

“Yes,” You whispered back before pulling him onto your lips again.

Your relationship with Spencer was something that made your heart feel so light and airy— something so pure and easy. It made you grow dizzy just thinking about his hands on you and all the sweet things he’d whisper in your ear constantly. How he was always so considerate and sweet and perfect.

You were staying the night at Spencer’s apartment, too tired to drive back to your own apartment after work. But some things lead to others and well— yeah.

When having to restrain so much physical contact at work, strictly wanting to remain as professional as possible, you could merely blame yourself for needing him like this once back at eithers apartment.

You hummed against his lips, raking your hands slowly through his hair. The kissing hadn’t stopped for the past half hour or so— honestly you lost track of time.

Spencer pulled away breathlessly and placed a few messy but calculated kisses on your jaw and neck. You smiled almost stupidly. He pulled away, looking at your dozy face and feeling his chest tighten.

Your lips were slightly pinker than usual, and puffier. Your hair was just slightly tousled while your cheeks glowed a beautiful red hue. Your fingers remained tangled in the locks of his curls.

“You look pretty,” He was saying that as if it was another one of his scientifically proven facts, as if no one could say or believe otherwise. You tucked a small curl that had slipped onto the side of his face behind his ear, humming passingly. However, you never found his eyes, only focusing now on the curls that sat comfortably framing his face.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed, fiddling with the hem of your loose shirt. “You do that often,”

You look down at him, questioning him with a hum. “Do what?”

“Overlook the things I say when I compliment you,” He remarked. “Like you don’t believe me.”

You still didn’t move your attention from his curls. You didn’t believe him most of the time.

You weren’t an insecure person, not entirely anyways. You put a lot of focus on your physical appearance, always maintaining your clean look intact to the public eye. To many, you were considered extremely attractive. But unlike popular belief, you had many insecurities that you always tried to overlook. Sometimes it was hard though.

It was just hard for you to understand how he saw you so perfectly, like you had not a single flaw. ‘Beautiful’ and ‘breathtaking’, just like he always says when he sees you at work or back at your apartments. How he’s able to litter you with a million compliments

“I don’t overlook your compliments,” You let out an airy laugh, pulling back slightly to look at him properly, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t..!” You laughed, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a long kiss. He drew away, only by a few centimeters, desperately trying to get his point across because god forbid Spencer keep his thoughts to himself.

“You’re deflecting,” He whispered over your lips before you laid another feather-like kiss into his lips. You hummed dismissively, assuring him that you weren’t avoiding anything.

But god, if you didn’t stop kissing him so softly and so painfully slowly, if you didn’t stop shifting around on his lap the way you were and if you didn’t stop your hands from wandering their way across his shoulders and chest— he was going to have a hard time remaining composed.

“You’re—“ A kiss.

“trying to—“ Another kiss.

“distract me,” It was as if you were a magnet he was so desperately trying to detach himself from, but failing miserably. Gravity itself pulled him towards you, he couldn’t help nor control it. He couldn’t blame himself either.

“Is it working?” You whispered, voice dangerously close to a taunt. Your hands began fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt, popping the first two undone.

Spencer found himself growing dizzy as his hands dug into your hips. “Unfortunately,”

You kissed his jaw, and Spencer let out a stifled groan. With the willpower of the gods themselves, he reached up and grabbed your hands into his own, stopping their mission at undoing his shirts buttons. You pouted with a glare, pulling away from him as his thumb gilded affectionately across your knuckles.

“So wait,” You pulled back. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to sleep with me.?”

Spencer choked. “What?— No!”

Spencer groaned as you stifled a giggle. Oh, how you loved teasing and getting him all flustered. “That’s not— No.”

You tilted your head. His hands rested on your hips, as he sighed looking up at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

You blushed. “You tell me often,”

“I know you’re beautiful,” He shook his head and sat up, trailing his hands across your back. “Do you?”

“People tell me often,” You smirked and when he glared at you all you could do was kiss it off him. “But I only like hearing it from you,”

“I asked you something,” He let out.

“Sort of,” You admitted meekly, finally responding to his question. His hands came back to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it as his lips found yours again.

“You’re probably the most beautiful person I know,” He whispered above your lips matter of factly.

“Probably..?”

“Definitely,” His hands gripped at the plush flesh of your hips in a way that was making you want to fall to the ground and melt into a puddle of goop. It was so gentle yet there was a specific urgency to it.

He pulled away, kissing your cheek immediately after. “You’re also so smart and kind,”

He kisses traveled across your cheek, to your temple, towards your jaw and that damn spot on your neck that he knew drove you crazy. All while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Your witt was slowly melting away with any trace of self control you had left in you as you closed your eyes, arching yourself into his addictive touch. ”And funny,”

“Spence..” You warned.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” He looked back at you, reaching up and cupping your cheek in his hand. “I—“

His words failed him as they whipped all the way back into his throat, daring not to leave his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to say it, there wasn’t anything else he wanted to say to you, because no matter how much he’d wash you in compliments, those three words were the closest thing to allowing you to understand just how much you truly meant to him— hell, it didn’t even feel like enough sometimes.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Which is why he quickly thought of the closest thing to those three words and spat them out, avoiding any growing suspicions. “I love the way you make me feel.”

You weren’t gonna lie, the first two words had gotten your hopes up in ways that were too pathetic to admit out loud. But his words had other intentions, so it seems, and you had to force yourself from slouching your shoulders foward in disappointment.

Beside, it’s not like the things he was saying weren’t causing a wonderful heat to pool in the pit of your stomach— and among other places.

You watched him, for a second or two, trying to maybe tell him with your eyes what you couldn’t tell him with your words. But it still wasn’t enough, and if you didn’t release the neediness that was starting to take shape within you, you'd quite literally explode.

You tangled your fingers within his hair and pulled his mouth onto yours in a steady but desperate kiss. He responded pretty well, given since his hands found your waist instantly and tugged them towards himself in a feverish manner.

He began pulling at the bottom of your shirt, signaling he needed it off of you and pulled away, whispering breathlessly. “Can I?—“

“Please.”

The fourth time

“Ouch,” You hissed as Morgan dabbed a piece of gauze onto the now stitched up cut on your head. “Are you trying to give me another concussion?”

Derek deadpanned at you, slightly relieved that you still found the energy to pick on him after being whacked in the back of the head with a pipe by the Unsub.

The team was searching for a local Serial Killer that targeted young women around the area, per usual. You and Morgan were put in charge of entering the Unsubs apartment since Garcia had been able to track it down while you and Morgan were on call.

It wasn’t anything past ordinary. This was your job, you had done this more than a thousand times before— much less carelessly and it wasn’t like you to be so careless. But sometimes you get so comfortable and cocky with your job that you forget about the actual risks of it.

Eventually that cockiness would have turned around and bit you in the ass.

When you and Morgan busted down the door, guns in hand, you split up, each directioning yourselves into different rooms of the apartment— in hindsight that was a horrible idea.

When you walked into what seemed to be an empty room, you stupidly failed to check the back of the door. Which was why a second later, when you opened your mouth to inform Morgan that the room was clear, something solid and cold wacked you across the back of the head, knocking you out unconscious.

You weren’t aware of what happened after that, given how the blunt force had knocked you out profusely and you really couldn't recall anything prior to the attack when you regained consciousness. All you knew is that you were alive and the Unsub had been caught, which was all that mattered honestly.

Derek was now wallowing in the self inflicted guilt of not knowing better. But to be completely fair, you didn’t know better either— you were as much to blame as he was.

But Derek was convincing himself that because of his lack of observation, you had ended up with a concussion, six stitches and a bruised cheekbone.

“Derek—” You pleaded, watching him dump the ice pack onto the counter of the back of the ambulance with an angry toss.

All he was doing right now was huffing in anger. “Come on,”

He turned to look down at you. Shot him a stiff thumbs up and a smile, signaling that you were more than okay. Sure, your head was throbbing, but you weren’t dying.

“Stop doing that,” You rolled your eyes and squashed your eyes shut, attempting to relieve your headache.

“Doing what?”

“The sulking,”

“I’m not sulking,” Derek scoffed. Now it was your turn to deadpan him. He opened his mouth, intending to jump instantly to his defense.

“Where is she?” A panicked voice from the depths of the crowd caused you to grimace, immediately recognizing it to be Spencer’s. Derek suddenly felt dread when realizing he now had to face him.

Spencer could be rather ardent when it came to you and your safety— you knew you were fine, but having to convince Spencer that you were fine as well was a tougher job.

Spencer pushed through the vast amounts of people, finally breaking through the last line of them and finding you sitting placidly in the back of the ambulance. The panic Spencer felt coursing within him was something he wished upon no one.

When Hotch told the team that you were down, Spencer couldn’t help but freak out. He hid it well, knowing he had to stay focused on the case, but god was he slowly crashing. His usual sharp intellect was fogged, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your wellbeing. His head was flooded with questions and worries and he needed to know that you were okay.

He strided over to you, quickly crouching and taking your cold hands into his own. His distressed eyes flew all over your face, scanning it as his hand came up to cup your cheek. His thumb gilded gently over your bruise and the deep furrow in his brows was enough to tell you that his mind was going haywire.

“Hey you,” You said, humor glistening your tone while smiling sweetly and oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Spencer forced a weak smile to spread across his own face.

“Hey,” He cooed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine actually,”

Spencer straightened himself out, turning to Derek. “What did the paramedics say?”

“They gave her six stitches for the superficial cut on the crown of her head and some ice for the bruised cheekbone,” He crossed his arms. “They say it’s probable she has a concussion.”

Spencer felt his blood run cold. “A concussion?!”

You could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to remain calm. It was evident in the deep breaths he was taking and the tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg. He was doing a horrible job at it though, although you wouldn’t tell him that because he’d just freak out some more. His voice was getting all pitchy and his shoulders shook feebly. He sucked in a deeper breath, closing his eyes and attempting to regain his composure.

“Spencer,” You didn’t need him panicking more than he already was. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, probably to scold you or maybe even defend himself, Hotch's stoic voice cut through.

“We need to deliver a statement. Morgan, Reid,”

Spencer looked down at you. But you pushed him to head over to wherever your chief needed him to be. “Go. You can—“

“Hotch, I’m going to stay,” He told the chief, almost finally.

“For the first 24 hours after the injury, it’s important for someone to stay with her to keep an eye out for any new symptoms that develop.”

You clamped your mouth shut and looked at Hotch, who remained neutral watching the two of you. You offered him a shrug, and the two of you knew there was no getting through to him. Hotch hesitated momentarily, but knew Spencer would be more of use if he wasn’t with him worrying about you.

Spencer was as smart as they came but god could he be stubborn.

With a final nod from Hotch, he and Morgan pushed through the group of press. You followed Spencer’s movements with a sweet smile glued onto your face. He sat next to you, close enough so that you could feel the side of his thigh warm against yours.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked again, voice small, worrying that if he spoke too harshly or too loudly it would hurt you further.

“Surprisingly good for someone who was smacked in the back of the head with a metal pole,” You shrugged indifferently. Spencer, however, did not find your humor amusing.

“How sleepy are you on a scale from one to ten?” He asked urgently. You pulled back, pursing your lips quizzically.

“Like three? I slept like shit last night—”

“How about your neck? Does it feel stiff?” His hands reached up, cupping the sides of your neck as his thumbs traced your jaw.

“No,”

“Are you unable to move any part of your body?” His questions were spewing out of him uncontrollably, and it was getting hard for you to keep up.

“I don’t—“

“What about your pupils? Did the paramedics check them?”

“Spence,” You whined, slumping your shoulders forward while your face still rested in his hands. “The bright lights and harsh noises are giving me slight headaches, but that’s it.”

He stared at you. Long and hard, he just looked at you and wondered what he wanted to say out of all the things swirling around in his head.

“What were you thinking?” He asked finally. You stared at him and his eyes hard with annoyance, but still shining an amount of concern. His voice was barely above a whisper. You let your shoulders fall, licking your bottom lip.

You reached up, grabbing his hands steadily from your face and lacing your fingers with his. “We weren’t,”

“We jumped in head first and didn’t think coherently,” His frustration was rational, but to a certain extent. You really wanted to validate his concern, but he was not allowed to get mad at you. “Spencer.”

As you called his name firmly, he only looked away, jaw and shoulders tense and constricted. You sat there, silently waiting for him to react however it is he needed to in order to process.

“I should’ve gone with you, I should’ve—” His head ducked low. His voice was full of frustration, at himself mostly. It didn’t have to be because this was not something he could have prevented.

“Spencer,“ You gave his hands a firm squeeze and tugged on them slightly. “What did we talk about when it came to personal prevention?“

He remained silent. “I’m serious, there isn’t anything we could’ve done to prevent this.”

Spencer couldn't call to mind the last time he had felt this strongly about someone. Maybe Maeve, but he knew deep down it wasn’t the same. He was almost positive he really hadn’t ever felt this way about someone— he’d been in love, but never like this.

Your entire existence ameriolated his entire being. There wasn’t a moment in the day where he didn’t think of you, where he didn’t wonder what you would think of things, where he wasn’t excited to see you every morning for work. A life without you didn’t exist to him anymore— he didn’t want it too.

That could be the main basis as to why Spencer felt so implausibly terrified at the idea of losing you.

His hand left yours, replacing it with a cold emptiness. His free hand flew up to his eyes urgently, pinching them simultaneously to get rid of the minor tears that had welled upon them. He ducked his head low, not wanting you to notice that he had started tearing up.

Immediately, your whole face softened at the realization that he was crying. It tugged on the strings that held your heart up and made your stomach churn in the worst way possible. “Spence…”

Seeing him cry, possibly because of the fear of losing you, made you feel— funny. It gave you this airy feeling in your head that caused you to feel lightheaded and filled your chest with blithe. You weren’t sure if it was your concussion or the affection you felt towards Spencer that made you feel this way.

You smiled meekly, fondness across every one of your features. Spencer cleared his throat and spoke, voice wobbly and unsteady. He sat up, trying to recollect himself. “Sorry, I— I don’t know what i’m crying for—”

You looked into his eyes, eyebrows swooped downwards. At that second a million thoughts ran through your head, but only those three freaking worlds were the only ones that felt adequate enough to say in that moment.

“I—“ You started.

It was right there. It sat in the back of your throat irksomely. You were ready to jump off the edge, to slip into the abyss— to say those words that you’ve been holding off for the past weeks, months even. Spencer watched you, simultaneously growing nervous because he could tell by the way you swallowed thickly that you were about to say something.

“I think I’m seeing double,” You opted. Just the way his eyes blew wide was enough to make you giggle.

Next time.

“What do you mean?! Like actually double or are you—“ His voice died down at the sound of your snort and soon enough you began laughing. He blinked a few times before he glared at you.

“That is not funny.” It irked him massively how you had the capacity to always joke when he wasn’t at all in the mood to. But it also unraveled the itching anxiety that had grown in his chest and replaced it with a deep affection that surged throughout him entirely as he watched you laugh. “I’m serious.”

“Did you know that you look so cute when you’re mad?” Your hands reached up, cradling his face in your palms. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away his frown was still present. The pads of your thumbs rested on both corners of his lips, pushing them upwards and creating a makeshift smile.

“I’ll let you baby me these next few days all you want,” Your voice was soft and sweet, making his head spin as you hovered your lips over his, placing another slow kiss there. “But right now, I’m promising you that I am fine, okay?”

His jaw clenched, eyes flying down to avoid your prying one’s. “Spence.”

You were saying his name one too many times that he was finding it increasingly hard to compose himself. He glanced up at you, nodding weakly. “Okay.”

The fifth time

You leaned forward in the mirror of Spencer bathroom, poking at the scarring on the crown of your head. “It feels weird,”

“It’s scarring tissue, it’ll feel weird for a bit, love” He watched you silently from his seat on the edge of his bed.

“Do you think it’ll leave a scar?” You mumbled, voice tight with concern. “The bruising on my cheek is fading but god help me, if this leaves a weird bump on my head I’ll physically seek this psycho out in jail and give him his own bump to worry about,”

Spencer stopped himself from laughing, finding your pouting adorable.

“After an injury, the inflammatory process signals fibroblasts to lay down new, protective tissue in the form of scars,” Spencer quipped. “But it won’t be noticeable since it’s hidden underneath the rest of your hair.”

You huffed, poking at the bruise on your cheekbone and admitting. “It’s hard to feel pretty when I’m all busted up.”

“You always look pretty,” You continued to poke at your cheekbone to which Spencer stood up, walking into the bathroom and planting himself behind you.

“Stop poking at it like that,” He scolded, reaching behind you and grabbing your wrist. You focused on your face, huffing a breath of frustration.

This past week has been utter hell for Spencer. A newfound persistent anxiety managed to find him after your injury and sink its teeth into him, claiming him victim. You've been staying with him since your concussion, ensuring him that you were safe, but he noticed he’d grown more vigilant to his surroundings when he was at work, more possessive when it came to you and your wellbeing and more conscientious.

You didn’t obtrude, since you understood it was a perfectly normal reaction for him to have.

But he hated it. He hated this clawing anxiety he was having. He hated having the persistent fear of losing you. He tried to decipher whether it truly was all related to the recent events or if there was something deeper. But he knew for sure that the thought of you getting hurt was making him sick to his stomach.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You grabbed his arms, rubbing soft circles onto it with the soft pads of your thumb.

“Bruises make me feel ugly,” You miffed. “Except the ones you give me, I love those,”

Spencer looked up from your neck, catching your gaze and watching your mischievous smile lighten up through the mirror as he cocked a brow at you. You giggled out a laugh.

Spencer zoned out. He just looked at you, watching your pretty eyes latch onto his through the mirror, seeing your body safe and warm and alive in his arms. His throat tightened and as much as he hated it, his mind immediately thought of Maeve.

Not because he was comparing, of course not. He could never— the two of you meant very different things to him and they were very different relationships.

But he could remember how he wasn’t able to tell Maeve that he loved her— he wasn’t given the chance.

And it made him think about your recent accident, and all the times he'd been stopping himself from telling you. Fear, worry— whatever it was, he had been stopping himself time after time from telling you how he felt.

The thought of him losing you before he could ever tell you how he truly feels is something that made him want to throw up.

“Hotch said I could go back to work on Monday,”

“I love you.”

He said it because he could, he said it because he meant it, and he said it because he didn’t want to live a second longer without you knowing how he felt despite its reciprocity.

He won’t ever forget the way your face just fell. Just stopped moving, mouth hanging open and eyebrows shooting upwards. How your mind just went blank. God, his heart was in his throat and your silence wasn’t helping.

“What did you just say?” You asked, mostly in disbelief— entirely in disbelief.

“I love you.” He’d repeat it for you as many times as you wanted him too. He’d do anything for you.

You turned and his grip around you loosened. Now facing him, your eyes shot around every fraction of his face to determine that this wasn’t a lie or a joke or something cruel he was planning.

“Say that again,”

“I love you.”

And it definitely wasn’t.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a suffocating kiss. One that was desperate, and urgent and full of passion and all over the place.

He pushed you against the marble counter, quickly hoisting you up onto the cold tile as your mouth moved along his perfectly. Your hands dug themselves into his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, tugged at his body, pulling him impossibly closer to your own.

He pulled away breathing over your lips. “I love you,”

He kissed you again before pulling away and whispering once again. “I’m in love with you.”

He rested his forehead onto you, reaching up and tangling his hands in your hair. The two of you heaved. Your chest was hammering against your rib cages, the oxygen wasn’t fully reaching your head or lungs and you were pretty sure you were going to faint. It was too much. “You are?”

You both peered your eyes open, looking at each other deeply. He whispered, voice crackling slightly. “How could I not?”

You kissed him, this time slowly and softly, wanting to show him how much you loved him back— needing to tell him how much you loved him back.

“I love you,” You said, wavering an unsteady laugh. He opened his eyes and pulled away, looking at you and infatuated with every part of your existence.

“Really?”

“Spencer..!” Your voice cracked in a protest, ludicrously referring to such a stupid assumption— you’d love him till the day you died. You pulled him closer. “It is physically impossible for me not to love you. Don’t act so surprised.”

He smiled. A big, wide and stupid smile that probably made him look like a kid on christmas morning. He kissed your forehead. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to say it.”

You perched up, hands falling onto his chest. “How long have you wanted to say it?”

He cringed bashfully, letting his hands fall to your waist as he shook his head shamefully. “Too long,”

“Well that makes two of us then,” You leaned forward, placing a relaxed kiss on his jaw. “Was there a point you realized?”

He shook his head. He’s pretty sure that after a month of going out on dates and seeing you consecutively outside and inside of work, he knew he’d fall in love with you. How could he not? “My breaking point, however, was the day you were wearing your new shirt,”

He kissed your neck, giving your hips a tight squeeze. “Which by the way, looked absolutely incredible on you,”

“Is that so?” You mumbled, lips curving up in a smirk.

“I love how it looked on you,” He admitted. “I love you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that,”

“I’m never going to get tired of saying it,” He responded. “When did you realize?”

“It was either that time after our first big fight or on that night on the couch when we,” You shot him a sneaky look, to which his cheeks turned pink, recalling the events of that night. You shrugged. “You know.”

You were going to be the literal death of him.

He kissed your jaw twice more. He loved you and you loved him. It seemed like something too good to be true. “I think I’m going to need you to jog up my memory,”

You giggled at the reference, heart doubling in size at the amount of affection you were feeling towards him at that moment. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, emitting a loud shriek followed by a string of laughter as he hoisted you up and carried you over to his bed.

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦ one foot out the door (and the other on the court)

(tobio kageyama x fem! reader)

♡ a/n — i'm not the biggest kageyama girlie but this idea hit me like a truck

♡ word count — 1.3k

♡ content — kageyama tobio x fem! reader, set before (only for a bit) and after the timeskip, no real age mentioned (26 like once), emotional distance, established relationship, angst, uh yeah idk what else, spoilers ig? if you don't know abt the timeskip?, not proofread

♡ synopsis — You'd spent half of your twenties waiting on Tobio Kageyama to pick you. You just weren't sure how much longer you could hold on.

── .✦ i know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand

When you first started dating Tobio Kageyama, everyone told you to be prepared to always come second to volleyball.

You laughed at them back then. 

Because they didn’t know him.

Not like you did.

They didn’t see the way his ears turned pink when you complimented his tosses. 

They didn’t know how he used to triple-check the convenience store to find your favorite drink.

They didn’t hear the way he mumbled “good morning” like he was still getting used to having someone beside him.

Tobio was quiet, blunt, and completely unaware of how to be romantic—but he tried.

And in the beginning, that was enough.

You started dating him during your second year of high school. It was a slow, unsure sort of love—like stepping barefoot into the ocean, not knowing if the waves would pull you under or let you float.

It was easy at first. 

You waited after practice, he walked you home with his bag slung over his shoulder.

You stayed up late to help him study, even if most of the time he fell asleep mid-sentence. 

On your birthdays, he gave you hand-wrapped gifts that looked like they’d been stepped on, but you still kept every crooked ribbon.

You knew what volleyball meant to him.

He never had to say it out loud.

You loved him anyway.

After high school, he made the Olympic team. Of course he did.

You remembered the press release, the way the gym smelled like sweat and something burning when he found out.

He didn’t jump or cry or pump his fist like the others. 

He just stood there, blinking slowly, like the weight of his dream had finally landed on his shoulders. 

You hugged him so tightly the zipper of his jacket dug into your collarbone. 

You told him he was amazing.

“I wish I could come with you,” you whispered that night.

You were sitting on the floor of his apartment, your feet tangled under his, your eyes on the half-packed duffel bag in front of you.

“I won’t have time,” he replied, not unkindly. Just distracted. 

Already somewhere else. 

“I need to start training right away.”

That was the first time you felt it—the quiet truth blooming in your chest like a bruise.

You weren’t part of the plan.

Not really.

But you kissed his shoulder and told him you were proud. 

You always were.

Then came Italy. Ali Roma. A contract with a club that treated him like gold.

You moved with him.

Left your job, your friends, your family.

Because that’s what people did when they loved someone chasing something extraordinary. 

Right?

At first, it felt like an adventure. 

A new apartment in a city full of ancient stone and hidden cafés. You learned to love bitter coffee and late dinners. 

You practiced Italian with an old neighbor who smelled like lavender and cigarettes.

And when Tobio came home from practice, tired and sore, he’d collapse beside you with a soft sigh. 

You cooked when he forgot to eat, held out ice packs when he came home limping, whispered encouragement when he doubted himself.

But the silences between you stretched longer.

He talked more about his serve accuracy than your life together.

He missed dinners, forgot anniversaries. 

Not because he didn’t care—but because his brain was filled with formations, rotations, rankings.

You wanted to go to his away games, wear his number on your back, scream his name like the other girlfriends did.

But he asked you not to.

“It’s just easier,” he said, brushing a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “The travel… the stress. You can see more on the replay anyway.”

You said okay. You always said okay.

You watched him on the TV, your heart thudding as he got his third ace in a row.

You memorized his stats.

You clapped even when no one else in the room did.

Off-seasons meant packing everything again. 

Japan for a few months. Then back to Italy. 

Back again when he got the call to rejoin the national team alongside Hinata. 

You moved so often that your clothes never truly left the suitcase. You didn’t bother hanging things on the walls anymore.

You got used to goodbye. Got used to changing your mailing address every six months.

But you never got used to feeling like a ghost in your own life.

You smiled beside the other wives and girlfriends, women with diamond rings and tiny strollers, women who whispered excitedly about honeymoons and nurseries.

Some asked when it would be your turn.

You always gave the same answer:

“I want it to be a surprise.”

But the truth?

There was no proposal hiding in the linen closet. No ring burning a hole in his gym bag. 

Tobio Kageyama didn’t talk about forever. 

He talked about his vertical jump. About teams. About the next tournament. 

He loved you, but love was never first.

You started wondering what it would be like to be first.

One winter, you found yourself alone in a quiet kitchen, making dinner for a man who hadn’t texted you back all day. 

His team had lost a match earlier that week. You already knew he’d punish himself with hours in the gym.

You looked around the apartment. Not a single photo on the fridge.

The only thing that felt like yours was the coat on the chair.

You set the table for two anyway.

When he came home—close to midnight, shirt damp and shoulders tense—he kissed your temple, mumbled a tired “thanks,” and stared at the food like it was wallpaper.

You watched him eat in silence.

And you realized, somewhere along the way, this had stopped being a partnership.

You weren’t building a life together. You were just orbiting him like Earth orbits the sun.

You were twenty-six when it all unraveled.

You had followed him to four different cities. Two countries. Two Olympic cycles. Seven different apartments.

And all you had to show for it was a name that was never written beside his in the articles.

No wedding ring. No home you could return to.

Just years of being the girl who clapped from the stands.

It wasn’t a dramatic breakup. No slamming doors. No tearful screaming.

It was a quiet Tuesday.

You were folding laundry on the couch, and one of his old matches was playing in the background. 

A younger version of him, gritting his teeth, spiking with the fury of someone who wanted to conquer the world.

And you realized something.

You knew him better than anyone.

You knew what made him tick.

You knew when he was about to serve just by how he stood.

And you knew, just as clearly, that this couldn’t go on.

He would never choose you the way you had chosen him.

So when he came home that night, sweat still clinging to his hair, you looked up at him and said—

“I can’t keep doing this, Tobio.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You tried to smile, but it cracked in the corners.

“I think we should end this…us. I can’t keep following you waiting for when you choose to follow me.”

And for the first time in a long time, he was speechless.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t fight, didn’t beg.

He stood in the hallway, hands at his sides, the silence ringing louder than any spike you’d ever watched him land.

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. “I thought… you were okay.”

You laughed softly. Not to mock him—just because it hurt.

“I was always okay, Tobio. That’s the problem. I had to be.”

You left with a single suitcase and the coat you’d bought in Rome.

You didn’t cry until the train left the city.

And even then, it wasn’t the kind of sobbing heartbreak you expected.

It was something softer.

Something that felt like peace.

You had loved him. More than anything.

But love—real love—needed to be seen. Heard. Chosen.

You knew that now.

Years later, you still catch clips of him sometimes.

A replay on a café TV. An article online. 

He’s still brilliant. Still quiet. Still chasing gold.

You don’t check his socials. You don’t need to.

Because even if your love didn’t last forever, it was real.

You know it was.

And you also know why it had to end.

Like the back of your hand.

yall fw how i made the pics his back bc he never rlly looked at you?

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