#so whats wrong with taking the back streets

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Unsteady

You get hit on patrol. You go down hard. What happens after is a blur, but what you do know, is that you were never scared for a moment. ~ 2k words

A/N: I wanted to try a new format for my fics, so pictures! I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, tho, so I might change it again

Being a vigilante in Gotham has never been easy. Between the bullet wounds, secret societies, and their attempted brainwashing tactics, and the more than a little tricky partnerships you have to navigate, sometimes you wonder how you've managed to make it for so long.

Don't get it wrong, saving people, taking out criminals, making the streets a little bit safer, you thrive on it. You live for the moments where you feel invincible, shouting awful quips back and forth with whoever you're patrolling with. The seconds where a civilian grabs your hand, smiling and alive and relieved by how easily you've taken down their attackers.

You do good in Gotham, a city that always seems to lack it. And, even if there are dangers that come with it, you've never really minded the risk. At least, not since you've started patrolling with Red Hood.

You're not exactly sure how it started. One day, you spent your nights alone more often than not, and then one day, you didn't. You think it might have been the Falcone bust you worked on together, or maybe it was the trauma bonding over getting trapped and tangled in Ivy's latest strain of living, grabby plant traps together.

Whatever it was, more nights than not, Red Hood lingers at your side while you traverse rooftops, and you've found a routine in following him on his own patrols through Crime Alley and The Hill. What started as a tentative trust quickly built to a steady partnership.

You know which ankle he tends to roll if he lands on the pavement wrong. He knows which shoulder you tend to favor when Gotham gets cold. You know his favorite street food vendor and order by heart. He knows what safehouses you stash your preferred drinks and snacks in– and how often they need to be resupplied.

You both keep each other from being too reckless, and honestly, you don't think either of you have ever really had that. It's not either of you have stopped throwing yourself into fights where you're outnumbered (but never out matched), it's just that you're not alone doing it.

Red Hood– Jason– has your back the same way you have his. And it makes Gotham a little less terrifying. It makes patrol– the idea that one day a simple mistake could mean you don't come home– a little less burdensome.

You knew you relied on him, maybe a little too much if you thought too hard about it. You just didn't realize how much space you made for him until it was pointed out to you. Nightwing makes note of it first, teasing you for having an entire pouch on your utility belt dedicated to extra ammo magazines for Red Hood's gun. Robin notices it next, admonishing you for not checking your six during a fight, even if Jason was covering you.

You'd be embarrassed if Red Hood didn't have the same amount of faith in you as you did in him. He trusts you to take point on missions, believes you when you offer him tips and whispers of cases he's working on.

You try not to read too far into it, but how could you feel anything but special when he so willingly lets you wander Crime Alley at his side, and rarely anyone else? When he calls you his partner? Calls dibs on patrolling with you? How could you not revel in the fact that someone so big and capable and sure in himself relies on you?

But for all the trust and skill that exists between you and Red Hood, sometimes you get unlucky. Sometimes, all it takes is one misstep, one slow reaction, for it all to go wrong.

It was supposed to be easy, routine. Just a small group of thugs trying to break their way into the back alley entrance of a jewelry store. It was supposed to be simple– you were even having fun, holding back laughter at how quickly they seemed to fall to the ground with each well aimed kick and jab.

With Red Hood taking one end of the alley and you the other, you thought you had them surrounded, you didn't even consider that there were more people around the corner.

You didn't hear them come up behind you– more preoccupied with dodging a punch to your throat– when a loud crack sounds through the alley. You drop to your knees– ears ringing, bile rising in your throat, vision swimming.

The back of your head aches, and you know you're in danger, likely concussed. But you don't know what happened– was it a pipe? A bat? You know you need to move, but you can't get your body to listen, can't get yourself off of the ground as the world seems to tip and fade in and out as you heave.

You wait for the next hit, another burst of pain, but it never comes. There's shouting– gunshots maybe, you can't focus on it. You force your gaze up, and the colors and figures seem to blur into one nauseating sight.

You think you make out Red Hood, slamming one of the men into the ground. It's hard to process anything– to understand what you're seeing. Red Hood lurches towards you, or maybe he's just moving onto the next goon. Maybe he doesn't even know you're down.

You can't tell and maybe you should be scared. All it would take is one well aimed bullet to change everything. But you're not afraid. Even as black dots dance in your vision, even as your stomach churns and the noises that fill the alley seem pitched and garbled in your ears, you know that Red Hood will not let you die.

You think you see someone raising a bat to strike at you. You want to block, defend yourself, but your body feels too heavy to move. You squeeze your eyes shut instead, trying to quell the bile in your throat as you curl your fingers into fists, desperately trying to stop shaking, to ward off the cold sweats and pain that seem to be radiating on every inch of your skin.

You wait for the inevitable strike that will knock you clean into unconsciousness, but it still doesn't come. You lean forward, gasping for air as another wave of dizziness hits you, when gentle hands grab your shoulders, guiding you to straighten out again.

"Hey, hey," the familiar robotic voice washes over you, steady, if not a little anxious to the trained ear, "I've got you, open your eyes for me, sweet thing. Lemme see you."

You do, unable to do anything but listen. Bodies lay crumpled around you in the alley. You don't quite understand how he got to you so fast. He was on the other side of the alley, nearly a dozen men between the two of you, and it feels like he fought his way to your side within seconds. Maybe you had gone down longer– and harder– then you realized.

"There you are," He murmurs, carefully tilting your chin up to examine your face, he watches you for a moment, the way your breath doesn't quite seem to find a regular rhythm. He brushes his fingers over the back of your head next, feeling for any fractures in your skull.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he finds none, "Looks like it's just a concussion, some bruising. We'll get you back to the cave, make sure you're not bleeding, alright?"

You want to nod, but you think if you moved right now you think you'd throw up into his lap. Which would be mortifying. You also might be incredibly distracted by how close he is. It's not every day you get to admire the way his hair peeks out from under his hood, the set of his broad shoulders, the way the whites of his mask seem to glow in the shadows of the alley.

He's incredibly handsome in the Gotham moonlight.

And then he laughs, lowering his hand from the back of your head, "Thanks, doll. Think you can stand up on your own?"

Oh. Did you say that out loud? You didn't mean to. You furrow your eyebrows, trying to get the words you actually want to say off of your tongue, "M'fine," you mumble, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to get your world to stop spinning for a moment, to try and find your balance.

"You're slurring your words," he points out, hands finding your shoulders again as you pitch slightly to the side, "How's your head?"

"Hurts," You admit, giving up on your attempt to stand. You choose to admire him instead, the curve of his throat, the tilt of his jaw towards you.

"I bet," He mumbles, before falling silent, letting the moment linger just long enough for you to start to relax, lulled into a daze by your dizziness. "I'm going to carry you," he decides.

You don't get to protest, as if you're in the state to. He just maneuvers himself to your side, gently hooking one arm around your back, and the other under your knees to lift you to his chest.

A new wave of nausea runs down your spine, and you tuck your head into his shoulder, fingers curling against the red bat engraved into his armor, "Sorry" Jason mumbles, going still as he waits for your dizzy spell to pass, "Guess he got you good, huh?"

"Was my fault," you sigh out, closing your eyes as you nuzzle closer into the comfort of the crook of his neck, "Got complacent." It takes you longer than it should have to sound your syllables out, even longer to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, but you think you manage to sound at least slightly coherent.

"Nah, sweetheart, it was mine," He lowers his voice even more as he talks, careful not to make your head ring anymore than it already is, to not jostle your injuries (and brain) and more than they already have, "I should have seen him. Should have warned you," he tells you, slowly and methodically carrying you out of the alley, away from the carnage he created.

If your eyes were open, you'd see exactly how driven he was to get to you– how he left bodies broken and mangled in his one purpose of protecting you. Instead, all you notice is the familiar smell of leather and gunpowder radiating from him.

You shake your head, "Red–" You cut off your own words with a wince, hiding your face deeper into his neck as your whole body seems to pound with pain. You really just want to tug his mask off, to listen to the way his voice dips to a soothing tenor without the modulator, to watch the way his eyes linger on your face, but you're quick to push the notion away, to blame it on your jumbled thoughts.

You suck in a breath as the nausea passes, "You're not responsible for my mistakes." You sound weaker than you mean to, words more slurred than you'd like, but you hope you get your point across.

His breathing seems to stutter in his chest for a moment, and his fingers dip a little tighter into divots of your amour, "Feels like it, though. I hate seeing you get hurt like this."

The confession should be heavy, but it just makes heat bloom straight from your heart, makes you lightheaded in all the best ways. You don't hide the smile that threatens to take over your face, "Yeah. Me too. About you, I mean." You hope that he understands, even if your words aren't as poetic or eloquent as you want them to be, you hope he knows what you're trying to say.

The tension seems to drain from his body at your words, and he lowers his head to press his mask to the top of your head, the mirror of a kiss. Both of you go quiet, basking in each other's touch– the rise and fall of your chest– alive– as your pain finally fades into a dull ache.

Later, you'll protest being taken off of patrol for two weeks. Later, you'll complain that Jason gets to take out the Two-Face shipment you've been planning for weeks. But for now, he's warm. He's holding you close. And there's nowhere safer for you than his arms.

[sagekjs21]

@korrasera No, I actually completed my studies quite some time ago. I have earned my degree and graduated. I earned my degree in the summer of 2012. So granted I will absolutely admit that I am fairly rusty.

As I've said, I'm not aiming for operant conditioning here, strictly classical. I want my child to associate going out in the street unaccompanied by an adult with a sense of that being incredibly wrong, whether that would mean a hint of pain or a hint of fear. I don't want them to think that running unaccompanied out into the road is a safe or fun activity. And yes, I am well aware that conditioning takes time. That much I do definitely remember. But I also remember that when Pavlov was doing his experiment with his dogs, it took a lot less time than he was assuming. Although to be quite honest I don't remember the specifics as far as time amounts go other than I remember his surprise at what he ended up discovering. 

Is spanking traumatic? In many cases definitely, I would agree with that. In all cases? No. No it is not, because that would mean that literally every single child brought up in the United States public school system from like the 1920s through the 1970s would have severe trauma. And this is simply not true. Corporal punishment ran rampant in public schools in America back in those days, and, while there are certainly some traumatized adults for sure, not everybody is going around with complex trauma.So this argument is just simply not true. In order to truly deduce how traumatic spanking is to a child, there would have to be a lot more research done than is currently being done. Also, every child to ever receive any kind of spanking, even if they only received one in their entire childhood, would have to be studied for decades beyond their childhood just to ensure the accuracy of the study. This is simply not possible. Child abuse is absolutely traumatizing, I will never diminish that. But a SWAT on the butt or the wrist that causes literally about 15 seconds worth of pain and leaves no mark and that is implemented maybe a maximum of five times in a child's life is not going to lead to PTSD by any means. there would have to be some other factor involved, some other type of abuse going on.

I'm under the assumption that I will fail as a parent. On the contrary, I know full well that I will fail my child in some respect as a parent. Why? Because there is no such thing as a perfect parent. There are great parents, there are Zent parents, there are negligent parents, and there are abusive parents. There are also parents that are quite inconsistent. I strive to be a great parent, but I have no delusions that I will be a perfect parent by any means. That simply doesn't exist. It doesn't matter how educated someone is, how hard someone tries, how kind, loving, patient, perfection and parenting simply will never exist. So will I fail? Absolutely. And I pray it won't be too severely.

But if my kid accidentally runs out into the middle of the street, if I am simply too slow to catch them and if I'm calling their name and they don't stop, that is not a failure on my part. That is simply an unfortunate happening, an unfortunate event. I tried my best, I wasn't ignoring my child, I was just too slow. The reality is, I'm partially blind. I don't see well in bright sunlight, so if it's bright and sunny outside and my kid runs out into the middle of the road, I will absolutely chase after them, but what if I trip on something on the ground? Is that my fault? No, it's just an unfortunate happening. This has nothing to do with me fearing my future role as a mother, not at all. This has to do with practicality. It has to do with safety measures. It has to do with prevention.

I completely agree with your third to last paragraph. Everything in that is golden, I'm totally with you. But again, this has nothing to do with my fear of failure. It has to do with safety. It doesn't matter how attentive a parent is, unless you keep your child in a plastic bubble literally, you cannot protect them from absolutely everything. It is simply impossible. For instance, you have to sleep at some point correct? You can't supervise them 24 hours a day. You can do your best and that's all you can do. And this is why small, fairly harmless, preventative measures are necessary. I'm not afraid of failing my child, I'm afraid that in the event I could not get to them fast enough their life could be in danger. That's a rational and reasonable fear. It has nothing to do with me being inadequate, it has to do with life being complicated. But I'm with you on parents not letting their kids become independent adult adults in adolescence, that's completely abusive and selfish and just plain wrong. So at least we agree there.  

When people get pregnant, they will give up smoking, give up alcohol, give up coffee and soda, give up fondue and raw cheese, give up cold cuts and sushi, all because they have heard somewhere, from someone, that these things can be bad for the baby. They don’t know the research, haven’t looked at the studies, can’t talk about sample sizes and control groups. But their dedication to their future child’s safety is so strong, their caution is so overpowering, that they give up these things just in case. 

So it baffles me when those same people will insist on spanking their kids. 

Even when they are shown the research.

 Regardless of what the experts in the field say. 

No matter who says it. 

Or how it is said. 

People are so invested in this ability to hit their kids without judgement or consequence, that it absolutely confounds me. 

[esote-rika]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it! Also, tagging @darkmatilda as a fellow glasses!Spencer connoisseur.

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

Bestie I forgot to tag you lol @floraisunwell

[crushpunky]

paparazzi interrupts drew and actress!reader's walk

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based on this ask. warnings for harassment/body shaming and overall assholery from the paparazzi lol

The day had already taken a toll on y/n. First, she spilled her iced coffee she had pain painstakingly made all over her favorite shorts, then her lunch order was completely wrong, and last and perhaps most painfully, she’d gotten a call from her manager informing her that she hadn’t gotten a call back for the role she had been so excited for. Noticing this, Drew suggested the two of them take Charleston out for a walk downtown.

“I think I’m ready for it to be summer again.” Drew said as he held his jacket against him, Charleston trotting happily in front of the two of them. The two of them walked down the sidewalk arm in arm, the breeze gently rattling the changing leaves. It wasn’t a particularly heavy tourist season, the streets filled mostly with locals.

“Oh c’mon, it’s like 60 degrees out.” Y/n laughed, nudging Drew playfully. Drew looked down at her with a light grin on his lips, happy to see her smiling after the unfortunate events of the day.

“I’m a southern boy, I’ve—” Drew began, but was cut off when a lanky man approached them. Drew quickly pulled Charleston back, allowing the dog to walk between the two of them, and tightened his hold on y/n’s arm.

“Y/n! Drew!” The lanky man said, holding up his camera. Y/n flashed a smile and a small wave, adjusting her baseball cap as they continued down the street. Paparazzi weren't new to them by any means, it just wasn’t super often they really approached them, mostly opting to snap photos from afar.

“We saw the photos of you two at the beach the other day.” The paparazzi said, continuing behind the couple as they walked down the sidewalk. Drew’s jaw tightened, already annoyed by the sudden intrusion to y/n’s already shitty day.

“Looks like you’ve gained a bit of weight, huh, y/n?” The paparazzi jeered, pushing his camera in in an attempt at drawing a reaction. Drew whipped his head around quickly, his eyes furious.

“It’s— just ignore him. Please.” Y/n whispered, tugging on Drew’s elbow. Her heart was hammering, trying her best to not internalize the creep’s clear attempt at garnering a strong reaction from the two of them. They continued down the street quicker, even Charleston seemingly distracted by the man following them.

“All those sweets are really showing up on the hips, y/n.” The paparazzi continued with a snicker. Y/n took in a shaky breath, her eyes beginning to water as the man continued spouting off comments about her body.

“Y/n, I can’t ignore him if he keeps saying shit—” Drew growled, his hands practically trembling in anger as he noticed the glassiness in y/n’s eyes.

“Or maybe you’re pregnant? Hmm, Drew? You finally knock that bitch up—” The paparazzi jeered. Drew whipped around, quickly handing the leash to y/n as he stepped towards the man. The lanky man stopped, his eyes widening as Drew’s broad figure approached him angrily.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Drew said to the man, his finger pointing harshly. “Don’t you fucking say another word to her, a’ight asshole? Not another fuckin word.”

“Relax, man, I was just asking a question.” The man let out a nervous laugh. Y/n took in a shaky breath, tears falling down her cheeks. Charleston nuzzled his nose into her leg, his eyes looking up at her widely as she patted his head gently, her head buzzing with tension.

“You’re lucky she’s here or I’d beat the shit out of you for saying that. Get the fuck out of here.” Drew looked down at the man, his cheeks flushed with anger. Y/n stepped forward, placing a hand on Drew’s shoulder, glancing around at the other people walking down the streets whose attention seemed to be focused on them. Drew’s eyes stayed focused on the man as he cowered back, his gaze only breaking when Charleston barked.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” Drew spat before, taking a measured step back, wrapping an arm firmly around y/n’s waist and taking Charleston’s leash from her. The two of them quickly walked away from the creep, not even sparing a glance in his direction, until they found a bench. Drew directed y/n to sit, immediately crouching down to her level.

“Baby, are you ok? I’m so sorry—” Drew said, tucking a strand of hair behind y/n’s ear.

“It’s— you didn’t do anything, it’s fine.” Y/n sniffled, wiping a stray tear away and straightening up, her hand resting on Charleston’s head and eyes avoiding Drew’s. As much as she tried to tell herself what the man was saying wasn’t true, she couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. It hurt to hear the things that used to just exist in her head or in the comments under a post. It hurt to hear those things out loud. It hurt to hear those things out loud because it made them feel real.

“Hey, look at me, please.” Drew whispered, his hand moving to the curve of y/n’s jaw. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. He gazed over her face, his heart clenching at the teariness in her eyes and slight frown on her usually grinning lips.

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful—” Drew said, his thumb rubbing gently along y/n’s jaw, even as she shook her head and tried to look away from him. He held her still, keeping her eyes on him.

“Don’t shake your head, please, baby, you’re killing me.” Drew sighed, his voice nearly breaking.

“Drew, it’s fine, just leave it.” Y/n said, her voice barely a whisper as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“No, I can’t have you crying over bullshit some asshole who knows nothing about you is spouting.” Drew continued, his other hand moving to cup the side of her face. Her flushed cheeks smushed together slightly, her nose scrunching so perfectly Drew felt as if he was gazing at a painting.

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful,” Drew whispered. “So beautiful it’s unreal. Everything about you is just… so perfect.”

“Your nose.” Drew pressed a kiss to y/n’s nose. “Your chin.” Drew pressed a kiss to her chin. “Your neck.” Drew pressed a kiss to her neck. “Your shoulders.” Drew pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Y/n said, a small smile spreading on her lips as Drew gazed up at her as if she were a goddess gracing him with her very presence… and to him she was. He never thought it’d be possible to be so completely and utterly perfect, every aspect just so quintessentially her. Even “flaws”, like the faint scars of acne on her cheeks or the way her hair would tangle in the morning were so her he found it impossible to see them as anything less than perfect.

“I wanna hear you say it.” Drew grinned, his eyes crinkling in the way that made y/n so weak in the knees she was glad she was sitting down.

“No, c’mon—” y/n groaned.

“We’re not leaving until you say it.” Drew sang, his hands resting on her knees as she let out another playful groan. She took a deep breath, her cheeks warming as she smiled back at him.

“I’m ‘so fuckin’ beautiful’.” Y/n said, Drew’s grin growing impossibly wider as he pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple before helping her to her feet. Charleston barked excitedly, his tail wagging as they continued their back towards their house.

“Exactly, Charlie, your momma is so hot.” Drew wrapped his arm around y/n’s waist, pulling her to his side. Y/n giggled, resting her head on Drew’s shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s what he said. I think he said ‘hurry up and get home I’m starving’.” Y/n teased, elbowing Drew lightly.

“Mmm, me too… but something a little different.” Drew said, looking down at y/n with a quirk of his brow. Y/n’s eyes widened as she caught onto his hint.

“You’re such a dog.” Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes as she rested her head onto Drew’s shoulder again.

“Can’t help it my girl’s so fuckin’ hot.” Drew said, pressing a kiss to her head. Y/n grinned, her head spinning with Drew’s intoxicating presence, all doubts about herself disappearing under Drew’s loving gaze.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Smarter

Smarter insight 1 insight 2

Leah Williamson x reader

Warnings: Cheating, talks of IVF, definitely could have been better so might edit it later but here we go

You’re crying again, you didn’t think you could cry anymore but the tears running down your puffy red cheeks say otherwise.

It’s heartbreaking the sight of you curled up on your bed, wrapped around Leah who hasn’t cried since coming home from the check up.

It’s another fail in your IVF journey, you’ve failed again, you have failed Leah again but still she’s here comforting you.

She lays there with you wrapped around her until she thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and then she tries to slip out, away from you, from your constant tears that she can’t take anymore m, she needs to get out and the best thing she can think to do is to go for a run.

Only you stir “Le, where-where are you going.” Leah freezes the floorboards creeking slightly “I-i just I need to go clear my head it’s-I just need to go for a run.” You want to ask her to come back to bed to stay with you, to tell her you will get through this together, that it’s better if you do but that’s selfish and you have been so, so selfish recently. “Ok.” You say quietly and with that small nod of approval from you Leah’s gone.

Leah doesn’t know how long she’s been running for when she first spots HER and for the first time all day her mind is void of you. SHES gorgeous, absolutely stunning and she’s running right towards her.

Leah doesn’t know what comes over her as she does a u turn to chase after the gorgeous girl that’s just smiled her but she finds herself running beside her, her eyes flicking between her and the path before SHE stops.

“Hi.” Leah stops her hands on her hips sucking in air “I’m sorry I just-I saw you and I thought wow and, and.” SHE laughs and before Leah knows it’s they are sat in the park cafe chatting and laughing, Leah doesn’t know what time it is and frankly she doesn’t care this is the first time in weeks she’s laughed and not had to deal with a crying wife.

Everything is so nice and easy until SHE questions why Leah was running g so fast. “I-I’m going through something, my-my wife and I are going through something.” SHE reaches over grabbing Leah’s hand stroking it softly “it’s ok I’m sure it will workout.” Leah shakes her head “I-I don’t know if it will, my wife she-she’s in the middle of IVF and it’s not working-it never seems to work.” SHE softens “That’s not your fault, you can’t do anything about it.” Leah shakes her head “But am I not an asshole for just leaving her-I mean she’s at home crying and I-I’m here.”

SHE shakes her head “You need comfort too, she’s actually being selfish not comforting you as well, I mean it’s hard for you too.”

The conversation continues and SHE continues to “comfort” Leah telling her it’s going to be ok, their hands don’t part even after the Cafe owner throws them out.

“My house is just across the street.” It’s all Leah needs to hear before she’s sitting at the kitchen another tea in hand as SHE flits around content on cooking.

Leah doesn’t know how or when it happened maybe after SHE brought a spoon to her lips begging her to try the sauce but suddenly they are kissing, and then suddenly Leah is pushing HER through the bedroom door.

Leah knows this is wrong as she strips, as she twists off her wedding band and throws it towards her cloths but SHE’S gorgeous, the voice the tiny small voice screams in the back of her mind as they push forward, it scream about you, how you are still there, still at home crying, but SHE’S not SHE’S not crying not seeking comfort and draining Leah’s every emotion, no SHE’S soft and her lips are plump and her breast are perfect and SHE’S not crying and begging to be held, SHE’S not begging to be told it’s going to be ok as another round of IVF fails.

SHE’S gorgeous and she’s all Leah can think about on the drive home, right until the moment she walks through the door and your body crashes into hers, as you wrap yourself around her whispering into her chest how much you missed her.

It should never of happened but it did, it should be a one time mistake but it wasn’t, she should never have left you but she did and now she’s lost you.

[the-haiku-bot]

- So much to do so

much to see so what’s wrong with

taking the back streets

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

I think there's a widespread school of thought that old or nearly immortal beings like elves and draculas and shit have developed some kind of centuries long ageless patience. An attitude something like, "I have seen empires rise and fall, rulers come and go. This too will pass in the blink of an eye, and matters not to the world."

But I also like ancients who are like do what you want forever. "Are you kidding, a century ago everyone was wearing skirts. Wear pink, sleep in a tree, dance in the street, climb up the walls, talk to strangers. No one's gonna give a shit in a hundred years, have fun now!"

[applejuicebegood]

hey! if its alright, can i request some jason todd hcs where the reader is jasons little sister seems like the opposite of him (like always yapping, loves bright colors, etc) but they actually like a lot of the same things (like books, maybe the reader gets him into manga?) so they get along well?

A/N: Such a sweet idea! I've always wanted to write for an olderbrother!Jason. I really hope you like it dude! Masterlist

You were made known to him after his resurrection. A half-sister, born to the same filthy blood as him. Tracking you down was difficult but Jason found himself desperately committed to your discovery. When he finally found your address, Jason already recognized how similar you would be to him as he watched you blend and weave through the density of Gothams infrastructure. He sighed under the domino mask, watching you duck under a chain-link fence, disappearing from his line of sight.

When you slide back under the rusted metal, having successfully fed the family of stray cats that lived behind the abandoned chevy, the sun had just disappeared behind Gothams wall of skyscrapers. And he was there, his sturdy figure flicking in and out of illumination as the car headlights passed behind him.

The sleek red of the domino mask and the bat on his chest didn't give anything away as to who was standing in front of you. You stumbled backwards, an exhale of cold air catching in your throat as your back hit the fence. Awkwardly raising your hands up beside your head, already shaking, you didn't take your eyes off of him. 'L-Look man... whatever you think I did.. I promise you've got it wrong... I-I was just.. just' Even your voice carried the same street-given cadence as him.

He stepped forward with caution, holding a gloved hand out in front of him, trying to signal no threat. 'Your mother Catherine Todd?' You nodded, disturbed at how guttural the Red Hoods voice sounded through the obvious distortion. The annoying prick of confusion made it's way up your neck. Did dad got caught stealing cigarettes again? Is the Red Hood gunna kill me.. like as revenge or some shit? Fuck- what the hell is happening?

Jason brought his hands to the side of his mask, clicking the release buttons. The metal lifted from his skin with a hiss. The cold air hit his face as his naked eyes met yours. Your obvious shock stung like the cold Gotham air stinging his warmed skin. 'I guess we have something in common then' He chuckled, kicking the heel of his boot against the concrete. Your hands lowered to your sides, breath clouding up in front of your face. His eyes.. they were deep, even in the dank lighting of the ally your could see their infinite quality. His jet-black hair was the same as yours, only differentiated by the stark white streak falling over his forehead. The sharp swoop of his jaw, and the forwardness of his cheekbones, it was like looking in a mirror. Was this how everyone else saw you? Desperately intriguing, like an old book waiting to be read.

'What the fuck is that supposed mean?' You spat, bracing your body for the possibility of needing to sprint. He came closer, his face appearing to twist in the familiarity of guilt. The metal of the fence dug into your back, every muscle tightening in the expectation of a punch or your arms getting shoved behind your back.

Jason's hand found it's way to your cheek, freezing you in place. The rough fabric of his gloves scratched your skin as his thumb brushed over your cheek. The distant warmth hidden under the fabric disappearing under your chilled skin, your fearful gaze now tied to his. You could see the glimmer of tears gather in his mournful eyes as he smile. 'You've got her eyes'

That was a two years ago now. When your brother found you and made it known of his want to be in your life. Two years ago before you started living with him. Before you would mold Jason's heart into loving you as his baby sister.

It was the strenuous and aggravating learning curve at first. Understanding how to be an older brother to someone as explosively emotional as him. You would rile each others frustration as easily as fire consumes a dead log.

While his teeth were blunt from years of biting the metal of his mental cages, yours were still sharp and desperate to sink into the world. It was hard for him to dull that fury in you. Anger at the world, at your parents for keeping Jasons existence from you, anger at him for not coming sooner. Fortunately for the both of you, Jason had a pretty good older brother to look up too and emulate.

Dick is the first one in the family to know about your existence. Jason called him, frustrated at himself for seemingly not being able to connect with you the way he wanted. His job as the Red Hood didn't stop because of you now living with him and he was finding it difficult to carve out time to spend with you let alone present himself as a dedicated older brother. 'Ok.. How about I cover your patrol route tonight and you take her to that bookstore cafe thing down on fifth?' 'But what if she doesn't like that kinda thing?' 'So ask her what she likes.. and buy her a muffin while your at it. Jason... this thing is gunna be hard, but your doing everything supposed too. But if you really wanna show this kid that she can trust you, you need to give it a lot of time' Dick said as Jason paced between the kitchen sink and the living room couch. 'You sound like you've done this before' Jason quipped, tugging at the roots of his hair with his elbows leaning on the kitchen island. 'I have.. six times at this point'

You hurried off in front of Jason before the store door could shut behind him. He soon found you frantically tracing the shelves of the comic section until you pulled out a volume he didn't recognize. But seeing your face alight with joy, your dimples pinching your cheeks the same way his did, it was hard for him not to smile. It didn't take long for you to start rambling about the story. He wished he had a notepad of some kind so he could write all this down to remember for the birthdays he hoped to spend with you. You both walked the aisles lazily, Jason pulled a few books himself to explain and recommend. You smiled at his consideration of your presence, excited that someone was showing this kind of care and interest. You both left with a decently heftily stack, excitedly talking about which ones you were going to read first. And in that moment, a spark was struck within both of you. A precursor to the furiously powerful flame of your love for each other.

Jason felt ever inch of him burn with pride and emotion when thinking about the importance of taking care of you. And you felt ever bit of relief knowing that there was finally someone you could trust innately.

And while even though you now shared in this trust and pride, your differences is what made Jason truly proud to be your brother. You slowly morphed his dark and rather bland apartment into a wonderful blend of colour. Your personality slowly revealing itself to Jason you both worked to paint your bedroom a lovely pastel yellow. Eventually ending in you guys flicking paint at each other.

Jason learned how easy it was to smile when he was with you. Pride bloomed warmly in his chest when he compared himself to you when he was your age. You were so much smarter and brighter than he was. And he was eager, almost excited to make sure that constant brightness you had was kept safe and secure.

Jason knew that his job would make your life hard by association. So as much as it hurt his ego, he had to call up Bruce and ask if it was ok for you to stay the night at the manor while he helped out Dick in Bludhaven.

Your introduction to your brothers adoptive family only made you even more excitable. And with Jason asking Bruce to set you up in Gotham High with Tim, Cass, and Steph, your 'sister' label was suddenly not just for Jason to claim.

Tim and Cass specifically thought how funny it was that both of you came from the same parents yet could be so different in presentation. Jason darkening of doorways was suddenly impossible when you appeared by his side - your arms full of Tupperware containers filled with treats you had baked the night before, eager to hand out to everyone.

You loved the rest of the family, of course you did. But it was always Jason you would return too at the end of the day. Always him that you would come running too first.

Jason never expected in his second life to become an older sibling, to you or to anyone else in the family. The blood bond you shared was deeper and more emotionally sacred than anything he could have imagined. The care he had for you was so strong and potent, he felt the tug of warmth at the ring of your laugh because of something stupid he said.

He found you and carved out a little pocket of safety for both of you to exist within. He wouldn't let the fear and the horror of his world ever touch your intensely precious nature.

[insomniadreamzz]

In love with the Wolf

Alpha!Jinx x Fem!Reader

This fic takes place in Omegaverse AU. Mentions of smut, blood, werewolves, violence, angst

This fic is also taking place in another world but with Arcane characters. A Fanfiction written by me. I don’t own any of the characters. Using (Y/N) in this fic as well for Reader.

Enjoy!

Prolouge

Jinx and Vi were both Alpha‘s and sisters. Their relationship wasn’t the best after their father died in an accident. Vi blaming Jinx for it, like she blamed her every time something went wrong. Since that accident both of them parted ways, Vi meeting a beautiful woman, a Omega called Caitlyn. Caitlyn grew up in well known pack, a family with a lot of money, living the fancy life together with Vi in a beautiful place, a mansion. Meanwhile Jinx stayed at their lifestyle they had before. Nothing looked pompous, she had a simple home, a little hideout where she spent her time resting after going hunting or just causing trouble in town. She was known for being a criminal who stole stuff from other werewolves that had a more fancier life or even going in the human town and causing trouble there.

Their father Vander always told them not to get close to the human town. It’s dangerous. Humans and Werewolves had their problems with each other obviously. War between humans and werewolves was always a thing but at that time things got quiet between them. The leader of the whole werewolf nation made a deal with the human one. A deal no one really knew exactly about but it was important for every nation that they stopped fighting and living their own life even tho there were a little outsiders who still caused trouble. Criminals like Jinx. How long will the armistice hold on until everything goes back to chaos again? Only time would tell.

———

„Is that really necessary?“ You asked as you looked at the mirror, your brother Victor helped you adjusting the tie of your new uniform.

„Of course it is. You’re an adult woman now and our government needs more people who take care of the well being of human existence. You have never been the girly girl ever since you were little. You wanted this don’t you remember? Protecting your home?“ He told you as he gave you a smile with a little hint of sadness in it. „I can’t do it because of my disability to walk but you can. Make your older brother proud.“ He mentioned and you smiled, nodding in response. Victor was right. He couldn’t do anything much but you could. Maybe it isn’t that bad and you could use what you will learn to protect your loved ones.

Even if there is no war at the moment there were still some outsiders who caused trouble on both sides, human and wolves. The city must be protected and you grew more proud with your new job, fighting for good all those years you grew stronger and smarter. At least you thought werewolves were bad and they had to be locked away as soon as they get into the human territory. It’s too dangerous letting those ‚animals‘ run free.

All those things got taught to you. All that hatred. But for what cost? Your brother disappeared and you were alone, living only for the well being of your hometown.

You didn’t know what happened to Victor. He just disappeared from one day to another. You made peace with your own mind, convincing yourself of thinking he won’t come back anymore so you will stop being disappointed every day he won’t stand in front of your door, telling you everything is fine.

„Make your older brother proud.“ That sentence from him creeped in your mind daily and you promised him you will make him proud.

You were walking along the streets, the whole morning was rather quiet, not much to do for you as you roamed along the usual are you were positioned on. You were about to take a break when you suddenly heard a loud bang, a building catching fire, your eyes widen as you saw the chaos only a few meters away from where you were standing. „Shit…“ You mumbled under your breath, running towards the building.

You saw a few people running into your direction, away from the fire, some of your coworkers who were located near your route were also on their way to where the explosion happened, helping injured people out of it.

You decided to get in, trying to find more possible injured people but you didn’t see anything, coughing as you inhaled the smoke of the fire which also made it hard for you to see anything. In the middle of the chaos you saw a figure sitting in the middle of the room you were standing. It was a female, giggling to herself insanely before she noticed your presence, pink glowing eyes looking straight into yours. Her grinning widely so you could see the tip of her fangs. She was one of them…

„What the hell are you doing!? Get outta here!“ You shout at her, not caring if she was one of the wolves. She was still a living being. Sometimes you thought you are too soft for this job but letting anyone die wasn’t one of your things to do. „Why? Don’t you love the chaos? I do like it. Because that’s all I can do right. Causing chaos and trouble.“ She answered and your eyes widened, realising she was responsible for that.

„Why???! Why did you do that? I mean-…fuck it!“ You grumbled, knowing it was pointless asking her that. When you heard the ceiling above you cracking, something snapped in your mind and you rushed to grab the other womans arm and dragging her out of here, she squirmed into your grip, clearly not wanting you to touch her but you didn’t care at this point. Just the moment you both got out, the building crushed together.

„Don’t fucking touch me!“ She growled, you having other plans though. „Are you kidding me? You are arrested.“ You said before a coworker joined you, his expression almost scared as he saw your grip on the other womans arm. „How…did you get her?“ He asked before taking the handcuffs, making sure to put them around her wrists, you both having a hard time to make her stay still but you somehow managed it together.

„What? Why are you so shocked? Isn’t that my job?“ You asked him and his answer kind of surprised you. „That’s Jinx. You have never heard of her? She is well known for doing crimes. You will get a huge price for catching her!“

Your eyes widen in surprise. That woman was Jinx? She didn’t even try to fight you but why? Why was she so easy to get? Something is definitely off here. Jinx didn’t even look at you both, she looked to the ground, looking at absolutely nothing. She looked empty and sad. She did give up so quickly it made you wonder why or was it a trick?

Ever since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about Jinx. You wondered why she didn’t try to escape from you, she could easily turn into her wolf form and escape also the colour of her eyes…that pink colour. Usually werewolves had golden eyes, why were hers so…unique? You wanted to know more about her.

It was your free day but you still made your way to the cells, the urge to see Jinx again and getting to know more about her was just too intense. You knew she probably wouldn’t want to talk but at least you could try. Maybe you could also understand how that species is thinking and if they really are this bad. You always believed in the good in people and you wanted to give it a try.

When you stood in front of her cell you saw her being all curled up in the corner, her long blue hair hanging over her face you could barely see her. The walls of the cell were covered in scratch marks, telling you she probably freaked out in there. You didn’t even habe to say anything, she could sense your presence, her head slowly lifting to look at you, thise eyes already made you feel lost in them. Her gaze was tired, she was tired. Probably from crying, her dark makeup all smudged, cheeks stained with dried tears. „What do you want? Judging me?“ She grumbled but you didn’t answer yet. You crouched down to be the same level as her, showing her you don’t wanna do anything bad. „I want to understand you.“ You finally spoke with a soft voice, making her grunt in return. „No one understands me.“ She said, both of you staying silent for a while before she finally decided to say something.

„I lost everyone. My father is dead because of me fucking up…my sister blaming me for everything that ever went wrong and left me for a fancy bitch that hates me, everyone hates me. What’s the point of trying to keep a living? Nothing. I have no one.“ Her sudden openness was surprising but you understood the part of having no one. „You know…I have no one as well…my brother…he is gone. I don’t know if he is even alive anymore. Our parents died when we were younger.“ You mentioned, looking at Jinx who hugged herself as her nails digged into her upper arms, making her bleed. „You don’t understand half of what I am feeling.“ She continued pushing you away with her words but you stayed stubborn. „So all of this chaos because you have no one?“ You dared to ask and she snorted, snapping her head up as she looked at you, her eyes filled with rage but also with pain. „I wanted to show them all! I wanted to show what I can do! But…I always end up fucking up so I accepted that this is all I can do. I can’t do anything good.“ She snarled before getting up, walking towards you as she grabbed the metal rods of the cell. „What do you even know? You’re just a human.“

„Maybe I am just a human.“ You said before standing up as well, looking directly into her eyes. „You decided to cause trouble here. That’s not your home, that’s just not right. Of course we have to do something about it don’t we?“

„A human killed my father! My fault or not he died by a humans hands! I hate you! I hate what you are!“ She kept on yelling at you, her rage radiating a lot of power but you stayed calm. „You would have been arrested in your own home as well by doing that crime. You can’t blame every human for what they have done to your family. I do believe that if we would work together instead of wanting to erase each other we will have a much more peaceful life.“ You explained, her expression still angry but surprisingly she listened to you. „Jinx. You can do better than that I know it. I don’t care what you are. You are unique. Please remember my words okay? Think about it.“ You said before turning to leave, hoping Jinx will really think about what you told her. Maybe you had a chance to get her convinced to use her intelligence and powers for good. Just maybe.

To be continued

I hope you enjoyed the first part!! It’s more of an introduction but dw part 2 will come soon! Let me know if you like this story and wanna see more. I have a lot for you incoming. ❤️

[logans-whore]

Back from the dead to talk about Logan with a reader with an eating disorder. This was requested by @laiiis-stuff .Please note, that this mostly based on my experience, and I don't speak for everyone.

Okay. So let's be real, this man is OLD. He won't understand what a disorder is . But he'll notice the way your face falls whenever someone mentions dieting or weight, and the way you eat less, and less, when someone does.

And he notices when you skip meals, giving the excuse that you're not hungry, even as you eye food longingly

And ( I say this with all the love in my heart), this man is a dumbass, he’s going to think something is wrong. He’s going to worry like crazy about why you’re not eating. Are you sick? He can’t smell any sickness on you.

And his anxiety is gonna grow, and grow, and grow until it bubbles over and he panics. Cornering you in your shared room.

“Are you okay? Are you sick? You can tell me, I can handle it”

You’re confused, wondering what on earth he’s talking about, till he says he’s seen you not eating and you freeze

Hesitantly you explain. That food means weight, and weight is bad, even though you know it is’nt really, that food is fuel and that you would never say it or think it about any of your heavier friends, your brain won’t get the memo that it it’s that way for you too.

Once he finds out though? Hoooooo boy, he will be supportive.

The morning after you talk you come down to all the calories on the food you guys have scratched out. Like they were clawed out (I wonder who’d do that?)

He’ll take care to praise all the parts of your body that you’re insecure about, and bless his heart, he is not subtle about it, but he is trying and that matters.

Looking in the mirror in a too tight top? Like he has a super sense for when you’re feeling insecure, hes behind you, squeezing your tummy, mumbling about how much he loves it. Walking down the street with him? He'll slip his hand into your back pocket and squeeze your ass. At your smacking his hand away, he’ll grin, putting his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, doll, can't help myself. ‘S too addictive”

And he's had his own troubles with insecurities, and he's had his own problems with self-worth, (Just saying, with Jean and Scott, to constantly hear that Scott's better than him and that's why she chooses him? You're gonna need to reassure him sometimes too. That you love him and that hes the one you want.) and he hates to know that you're feeling the same way about yourself.

Just- even if he doesn't understand, he will be so, so supportive, and never fail to make you feel loved and beautiful.

(NOTE FROM ME! I'm taking requests now, so feel free to come scream (or cream) about Logan in my inbox!)

[cjlouwho]

I Like the Taste of Vanilla

NOW COMPLETE! Start from the beginning on ao3, read today's post here or there.

Day 5: This Seems Dramatic

When Tommy stepped out of the bathroom and into the king suite he and Buck were staying at in Vegas, he did not expect to see Buck standing in front of the window with nothing but a pair of boxer briefs on.

“Now that's a view,” Tommy said with a smirk as he walked over to Buck.

Buck turned to him with a smile. “I was starting to get changed for dinner,” he said, his hands going to Tommy's shirt to play with the buttons, “then I had a different idea.”

Tommy's eyebrows perked up. “Mm. What's that?”

“Well, I was looking at the view of the strip and I- I, well, I wondered if you'd, um, you'd-”

“Evan?” Tommy could sense his nerves. “Questions are good, remember?”

Playfully, Buck rolled his eyes. “I was wondering if you'd like to fuck me... in front of the window.”

Tommy's eyes darkened at the thought. He pulled Buck in for a kiss. “I'd love that.”

It didn't take long for his clothes to be tossed across the room. Soon enough they were both standing in front of the giant window, looking over the city as Tommy worked three fingers in and out of Buck's hole.

“Did you have me fly us all the way to Vegas to fuck you in front of a window?” Tommy asked, kissing along Buck's neck. “Because no offense, but this seems dramatic.”

Buck laughed breathlessly. “That was, oh shit, actually not the plan at all,” he replied. “But, uh, i- it's a pretty good idea isn't it?”

Tommy slid his free arm around Buck's waist, wrapping his hand around Buck's cock and stroking him with a firm grip. “A great idea, Baby.”

Soon enough, Tommy was lining himself up with Buck, and slowly beginning to push inside. As Buck moaned, body pressed against the glass, Tommy noticed a woman on the street. So far down she didn't look much larger than a Barbie doll. She had a phone in her hand, pointing up toward the hotel.

Tommy froze.

“Wh- What's the matter?” Buck asked.

“What? Oh, nothing.” Tommy sunk in a little further, but he couldn't take his eyes off the woman, who was still there and still had her phone pointing at the hotel. Tommy stopped again.

“Tommy?” Buck pushed away from the wall slightly, enough to turn and look at Tommy. “Something's wrong.”

Tommy sighed. “I just... What if someone videos us and posts it online, and then someone we know sees it or it goes viral or something?”

He was surprised when, instead of looking confused, Buck just smiled back at him. “Actually, when I went downstairs to talk to the concierge earlier we got to talking about the building and he informed me that they had so many problems with people fucking against the windows that they tinted them all. It's actually impossible for anyone to see in.”

Tommy paused for a moment before resting his head against Buck's shoulder with a laugh. “Oh God. That's when you got the idea, isn't it?”

“Yup.”

“So no one can see us?”

“No one can see us.”

Tommy took a steadying breath, then straightened back up and took hold of Buck's hips. “Back to fucking, then?”

Buck nodded, sticking out his ass for effect. “Back to fucking.”

They started slow, but soon enough Tommy was pounding into Buck as Buck's body pressed hard against the glass.

Usually by this point, Buck was a whimpering, sobbing mess. But for some reason, he just got quieter and quieter the faster Tommy went.

So Tommy stopped. “What's wrong?” he asked, breathing heavily against Buck's neck.

“Nothing.”

“You sound like me now.” Tommy ran a hand through Buck's curls. “What's wrong?”

“Well, I- I know the window is double paned...”

“But?”

“But I just keep thinking wh- what if you fuck me so hard that the glass shatters and I fall out the window. I'd literally be fucked to death.”

Most people would laugh at the thought. But Tommy's been a firefighter for so long that there's quite literally no scenario he hasn't seen. Bringing a hand to Buck's stomach, he stepped them both away from the window. “I don't want to fuck you to death.”

“I don't want to be fucked to death.”

Tommy thought for a moment. “How about I grab the extra blankets from the closet, get some pillows? We can lay on the floor in front of the window and fuck like that?”

Slowly, Buck maneuvered himself so Tommy slipped out of him. He turned around. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“How about we have regular, missionary style sex in the king size bed that we're paying for?”

Regardless of the fact he was just deep inside his boyfriend, Tommy was positive he'd never been so turned on in his life. “Are you sure? That's what we do at home most of the time.”

Buck smiled. “If I remember correctly, we do it most of the time because it has us both coming so hard we nearly black out.” He moved closer to Tommy, wrapping his arms around his waist and whispering in his ear. “I'll even flip us over at the end and ride you until my thighs burn.”

Tommy was wrong before. This was the most turned on he'd ever been in his life. With a groan, he pressed a kiss against Buck's lips and began to lead him backwards toward the bed. “I'll rub Bengay on your thighs after so they don't bother you tonight,” Tommy said, giving Buck a gentle push onto the bed.

Buck moaned, his cock hard and spurting precum just below his navel. “Fuck, Tommy, that's so hot.”

Tommy climbed onto the bed over Buck, gently lowering his weight over the man. “And after that,” Tommy continued, kissing his way down Buck's body, “I'll order us room service, whatever you want, and we'll eat it in bed.”

“I- In the robes the- the hotel provided?” Buck asked, body shivering with arousal.

“Mhm. And we'll watch that documentary you've been talking to me about for weeks.”

“Shit,” Buck whined, planting his feet on the bed so he could spread his legs wider, “You've gotta fuck me now, Tommy. I'm already close.”

Nearly halfway to his own orgasm already, Tommy wasted no time lining up and pushing in to Buck. He fucked into him slowly, carefully, as he watched Buck's mouth drop open and listened to the little, uh, uh, uh's, that escaped with each thrust.

Tommy nudged his nose against Buck's cheek to get his attention. “Evan?”

“Mm.” Buck opened his eyes, hands moving down to Tommy's ass for a squeeze. “Yeah?”

“I love us.”

Buck brought a hand to Tommy's neck, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss filled with teeth, and tongue, and all the emotion his heart could hold. “I love us, too.”

[icarusredwings]

Toast

(Yeah, he got the hello kitty toaster)

Sfw poolverinessa sick-ficlet

Cw: implied past eating disorder and cancer related puking

Vanessa never really knew why, but some days, Wade ate a lot of toast. Sometimes half a loaf. He would visit the bathroom often and come back smelling clean. Minty or lemon scented.

He'd smile and say "Why not? I like toast." When asked why but secretly she wondered if there was more to it.

It wasn't until Logan came around that she finally figured it out.

Here, in the morning, Wade had toast for breakfast. Simple really. Just two slices with jam. She had noticed Logan's gestures moved away from the lunch plans they were talking about.

"What about that place on 6th street?" He has said before, but now was suggesting a movie marathon at home.

What had changed? Within a wordless instant, they had taken lunch off the table.

"Maybe for dinner?" She asks, getting a curious look from Logan and a smile from Wade. Subtle enough to be unnoticeable if you hadn't been with him for the last 10 years.

"Yeah! Maybe. I heard they take reservations, though." Was all that was said, but Vanessa squinted, peering into those deep yellows, searching for any sort of falsification.

"Yeah... maybe." She repeats, only for him to glance back at Logan, taking a big bite of the toast. "So what movies are we gonna watch? Whatever you want. I'm not picky." Wade says, another sharp bite.

"What? Oh yes, you are." The scuff man smirks. "You're prissier than a lil miss pretty in pink pagent show."

"And I think you've been spending too much time with Rouge." Wade giggled. "What do you think V?"

"I think hes right. You ARE prissy and petty... And pathetic."

"Oi, you love pathetic men." He says, shoving the rest of the toaste in his mouth, jam falling down his chin.

Rolling her eyes, Vanessa kisses his lips, licking the jelly off. "That I do.. and you smell.. different." The tone it's said in is suspicious. Because it kinda was.

"I changed my body wash. This one's supposed to be gentle on skin. Wolvie said it would be better for me, but I think it smells like ass."

"It's irratant free." Logan budded in, taking a sip of his soda. "Which includes those perfumes."

"Look peanut, you might be able to get away with being all naturel with your manly wolvie musk but I smell like death." Wade says, eating the other toast.

"That's kind of an insult to Death, isn't it?" She asks, shifting to grab the remote, scrolling through their options.

"Oh definitely. She smells like fresh bloomed flowers after it rains." He mutters, filled with longing and well- Toast.

"Well, don't go dying on us just to see her, 'kay bub?" It's taken as a jabe, this serious statment was. As all things were to Wade, who only laughs, getting up.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, you two choose. Don't have too much fun without me." He says, heading off to the bathroom.

Hm. Nothing seems out of place just yet. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she had a feeling something was wrong.

When Wade returned, he smelt of artifical mint and that gross cheap spray that gas stations used in their bathroom. The lemon kind that smelled more like chemicals then actual lemons.

Ood, but not unusual. Maybe they just got minty bar soap. Who knows. Though she didn't remember seeing any.. huh.

____

Later, just as they were starting the second movie, Logan had brought a big bowl of buttery pop corn and again a plate of toast. This time buttered.

"Hold on. I gotta go to the bathroom again. You know. Kidney cancer shit. Go ahead and start without me." Wade says, waving them off as he leaves.

Blinking, for a second, Vanessa wondered. This was his 6th time going to the bathroom already and not every time, but most times, he would be in there for a good couple of minutes.

"Is he okay?" She asked Logan, who shrugged, having the toast in his lap, holding it. "About as okay as he'll ever be I guess."

"Soo no. Got it.. hey, can I ask you something?" Vanessa scoots a little closer, quieting down her voice as the starting credits play on the tv.

"If it's what I think, the awnser is no."

"What? No! Not that. God... men. I was gonna ask.. Why does Wade eat so much toast? Doesn't it give him a stomach ache? I thought he was allergic to gluten for a while." She adds, whispering.

Logan now tilts his head, giving her a stupid look only to soften into a 'Oh yeah' expression. "Right.. not everyone has my nose. My bad. Wade eats a bunch of toast because it settles and soaks up his stomach acid. Mentioned something about 'it's better to have something to throw up then nothing at all' too, which I hope is about the stomach cancer and not.. nevermind." He waves his hand, shaking his head. "It's true, though. Trust me, I've threw up a ton as a kid, and it was always better to have something in there."

"So... every time he..." She gestures to the bathroom vaugey with her hand. "He's.. puking?"

"Yeh.. kind of suprised you didn't know already. Though.. I guess it makes sense." Logan mutters, thinking.

"He's been hiding it from me.." It's a statement as if realizing this on her own, now processing.

"It's not really your fault. He physically can't hide it from me.. I can smell it. I can smell him crying and hear him brushing his teeth too." He mutters, looking at the bathroom door, that now clicks open and out comes a freshly cleaned up Wade, smiling that fake, appeasing grin.

Vanessa goes silent about the subject, only scooting back over and patting his seat between them. "You're just in luck. The movie just started."

Coming over, Wade sits between them, pulling his feet up to tuck under Logan's ass with a cheeky grin.

"Here. Eat." He mutters, handing the toast plate to Wade, who immediately begins to eat it.

"Ooh! Wolvie you salted it like I like!" He coes, shifting to lean agaisnt him, nuzzling his cheek.

"Mhm. I remember. Also... Vanessa wants to ask you something."

Her eyes widden, looking at Logan with that 'bitch!?' Look only to smile nervously, brows going together in a sense of tensity.

"Yes!" Wade boarderline chants.

"No! Not that! God.. you both are disgusting. I... I wanted to ask... Why did you feel the need to hide it from me-"

"Hide what? He immediately asks, cutting her off.

"The fact that you're throwing up........again.."

The volume of the pause is deafening. Enough for Wade's fake grin to drop, instantly turning to Logan as if he had just cut his heart out and sold it to the goverment (fuck the goverment, a voice echoed in his head)

"Why did you- i-.. I don't know what you're talking about." He laughs, forcibly.

Both of his partners stare at him, quiet and not finding this behavior any funny.

"I'm not! Ness I-i don't-"

"Wade..." Logan mutters, giving him a look.

Tearing up, Wade shifts, tensing and holds his plate tight. "B-but I'm not!!... not like that. I-i swear! I-..." a couple tears fall down his cheeks as Logan rubs his back, taking the chance of being injured. "Logan helped me get better."

This confession hurts to say. Ness knows it. The way his voice tightened and how panicked he got.

"That's.. not what I meant, sweetie."

"Oh...OH.. well fuck.. I- c-Cause it's fucking disgusting?? Why would I want you to worry 'bout me anyway? I don't need anyon' to carry my burdens for me. I can do it myself. A-and look mighty sexy doing it!" He says, wiping his eyes and sniffling, seeming to stop crying now that it was clarified.

"He's right about that last bit.. how you make insane seem sexy is beyond me." The flirt from Logan makes Wade smile, which is all that was needed at the moment.

"Pfft- like you're one to talk.."

"Wade, Sweetheart. You are not a burden and neither is your bullshit. Logan might have married you first but your bullshit is still my bullshit. Yeah?"

"V, I'm already the phyco guy who looks like half raw half burnt bacon, okay? I don't need to be known as 'the guy that pukes all the time' too."

She blinks, a little taken aback. "..Is that how you think we see you?" Taking his hands, she starts to talk, but Logan interrupts.

"That's a lot of words for 'Sexy motherfucker with a big mouth and nice ass' but sure. Potato patato."

Smiling again, Wade giggles. "Sttoopp... dont stop."

"I won't. But you gotta litsen to her yeah? Or shes gonna go all dommy mommy on you and make you write those affermations again."

"Fuckin' hated that..." Wade mutters, letting her thumbs rub over his rough backroad like hands, over his knuckles and up his wrists.

"And I'll do it again. You look at me and you listen good. You are way more to me then you will ever know. You are ever changing. Evolving. So is my love for you. No, you don't have to tell me every little thing, but telling me you don't feel good shouldn't feel like being a burden. Got it?"

"Mhm.." Wade was looking away, not wanting to look her in the eyes. No, because then he would be forced to see all the truth love in her eyes, proof against all the lies that his mind has made him believe.

"Wade Winston Wilson-" She states.

"Shit... you didn't have to goverment name me.." He whines, looking at her, seeing deep into her soul. She was telling the truth. She loved him. Bullshit and all.

Tearing up again, he makes a whimper sound, lips curling into the biggest frown. "Y-you mean it?"

"Of course I do.. you don't have to hide what's going on, baby.... now come lay on my tits and watch a medicore overhyped movie." She grins, shifting to let Wade curl into her, an arm wrapped around him, petting his head.

Logan scoots closer, putting an arm around them both, Holding the popcorn, smiling. Finally. Someone had shoved some sense into that stupid head of his. Maybe now he'd stop lying about having to pee so much.

Settling into their cuddle pile, Wade fells better, the toast filling his stomach, love in his heart, and eyes dry.

".....I have to puke again." He mutters, not even an entire 45 seconds of being in their grasp.

Both Vanessa and Logan sigh, letting him get up. "At this point just bring the trashcan, bub."

"I would, buuut you might mistake it for me-"

"Damn it, Wade!!"

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

[imtryingbuck]

You’re Perfect.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: Bucky feels down about his scars so Y/n and Steve cheer him up.

Word count: 642

Warnings:  sad Bucky (major warning!!) fluff. insecurities. violence to someone who deserves it. super short.

Masterlist

You both knew something was wrong the moment Bucky stepped into the apartment, at first you both thought it was because he had been on a mission but normally he would be sweeping you up in his arms the moment he laid eyes on you, taking you over to Steve to share a kiss with your boyfriend, but today he came in quietly and headed straight to the bedroom and locked the door behind him. Steve gave you a questioning look which had you shaking your head, heart aching at not knowing what was wrong with your boyfriend.

“Buck? Baby what’s wrong?” you asked leaning against the bedroom door.

“N-Nothing, I’m fine doll”

“No you’re not, Buck can you let us in please?”

“I-Is Stevie with you?”

“Of course I’m here” your boyfriend says from next to you, holding your hand.

You and Steve stood patiently waiting for Bucky to make his mind up, not long after the door locks clicked. Waiting until you heard the brunet sit back on your shared bed before opening the door. There he sat at the edge of the bed looking smaller then you had ever seen him, slowly bouncing his leg up and down, gazing down at his hand in such disgust.

Sitting on either side of him once again waiting patiently for him to talk first, knowing that it was better for him and that way he wouldn’t shut down completely and act like everything was fine. “Do-do you two think its disgusting?”

“What are you talking about Buck?” Steve asks.

“My arm an-and the scars?”

“Absolutely not! Who said that about you?” you replied instantly, not once in the three years you three finally stopped tip toeing around the bush and confessed your feelings did you think that about him. Well even way before that, you always admired his arm, always thought his scars were beautiful.

“It doesn’t matter”

“Yes it does, whoever has said something Buck we need to know” the blond says before you could reply.

“Julie… you know the agent?”

“Bucky, your arm is incredible and yours scars are beautiful, no one and I mean no one is as strong as you to have gone through all that you have and still see the beauty that life has to offer.”

“B-but she said I was a monster and she’s right”

“Stop that, don’t ever think that about yourself. You’re not a monster Bucky. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out, you’ve made amends with those who were affected by him, and you’re an amazing boyfriend and friend.”

“You have the most infectious laugh out of everyone I know, you’re kind and thoughtful, you put everyone else’s needs before your own. You give and give and never asked for anything in return, Bucky Barnes you are not a monster.” You take over from Steve. Bucky sits there and nods.

“’m not a monster”

“Say it again”

“I’m not a monster”

“Now say Y/n is the best”

“Doll… don’t make him lie”

“Wow, rude.”

Bucky chuckles at your pout, pressing his lips to your forehead, looking you in the eyes as he repeats. “Y/n is the best”

“Now, here’s the plan Buck you’re going to go and shower whilst Steve cleans up and I’m going to go and get us some food from the takeaway down the street, and then we’re all going to watch movies in bed, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan doll”

Before you went to get the food, you made a quick detour. Getting in home Bucky and Steve were cuddled up together in bed, a film already loaded up on the TV.

“I love you both so much” Bucky mumbled as his eyes started to flutter close.

Two days later Bucky saw Julie sporting a huge black eye and a busted lip. Curtsey of his loving girlfriend.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[totothewolff]

Season of Love (10/?) [New chapter]

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Sebaffäre Arc Chapter 10: Finding Our Grip.

Japan

The sun slips through the cherry blossom trees, their soft pink petals floating gently in the spring air over the streets of Shibuya as you, Sebastian, Mick, and Millie walk, soaking in the vibrant energy surrounding you.

Laughter spreads as you explore the bustling district known for its trendy stores, eclectic street style, and, of course, the undeniable Kawaii culture for which Millie lives.

“I saw on Instagram a new pop-up cafe with capybara-themed everything! We have to go!” Millie exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Sebastian chuckles while pulling her a little closer, wrapping a relaxed arm around her neck, their height difference being noticeable. “If it has cute animals and desserts, just take me there,” he jokes.

Mick, is already scouting for the ultimate kawaii stuff for Millie. “Look! They have those giant plush toys over there!” He points toward a shop filled with oversized snack plushies.

Your heart fills with joy as this hangout feels more like a family trip.

-

“Millie, this one is so you!” you point out, holding up a pink dress adorned with frills and one little cat paw. Millie squeals in delight as she slips it on, twirling in front of the mirror, you are now inside an all-pink extremely chic fashion store.

After some bags of apparel are added to your purchases, you head toward the Capybara café.

As soon as you step inside, you are greeted by the most adorably fluffy residents lounging around.

"I'M GOING TO EXPLODE" Millie squeals out.

-

After some iced Taros, fruit cakes, and playful interaction with the capybaras, you notice something shiny in the corner, a photo booth. “Oh, we have to try it!” you ask the group, eyes sparkling with glee.

Inside, you each squeeze tightly together, giggles erupting as you try to fit in. “Okay, everyone! Let’s do a silly one!” Mick suggests, posing with a goofy expression. You all follow suit, Sebastian squishes his cheeks together, Millie tosses her head back, and you cross your eyes, with the camera flashing in a series of snaps. When Millie suggests doing one series more but "with free poses" Seb doesn't let go of the opportunity to place one kiss on your cheek.

As the pictures print out, you can't help but think about how wonderful it would be to have these moments with a family of your own.

“Check this out!” Sebastian says, pulling the first picture from the stack. The photo reflects the perfect blend of laughter, silliness, and an undeniable bond, the four of you together.

“Let’s each take one copy and place them on our dressing room's mirror” Mick suggests and everyone agrees.

-

You three had the most fun time that day, so much it passed by at an alarming speed, and soon Seb offered to take you back, leaving you at the door of your hotel room, with just one shy and sweet goodbye kiss on the palm of your hand.

And that's all, he tries for.

He doesn't want to rush things, he feels luck is on its side this weekend.

He is just waiting for that special momment.

-

It's race day and Matthew and you navigate to your team's place on the grid - by the front - among the big bustling, and packed Suzuka track, it's kinda hard to walk around, this time they overdid the number of people allowed in there.

You two take your time to reach the place where the cars sit still but are soon ready to roar to life as the orchestra prepares for the national anthem, adding an air of ceremonial anticipation.

Just as Matthew turns a corner, you stumble into Toto with Susie, also hand in hand. The moment freezes as you lock eyes, both of you caught off guard.

"Ah, Toto! Nice to see you! Ready to eat our dust once more?" Matt opens the conversation, stopping in front of them.

You bite your lip, half-wincing. Matthew playfully jabs to push Toto’s buttons. The Austrian raises an eyebrow, letting out a short laugh, though you can tell the jab stings, he remains grinning, his charm on full display as he answers, "Well if it isn’t the power couple of the F1! Dust? I’m here for the victory champagne, my friend."

Susie appears momentarily oblivious to the smoldering tension. She smiles wide, all enthusiasm as she greets you. "It’s a perfect clear night for a race, air is good, isn’t it? I can’t wait to see how it all unfolds!"

You can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you watch her holding him, effortlessly radiant, completely unaware of the awkward undercurrents swirling around you all.

Her joy in the moment only amplifies the tension, and you battle with the frustrating realization that you wish you could enjoy it as innocently.

Forcing a smile, you answer her. "Yes! Perfect!"

This is the closest Toto and you have been for a while. Your heart races, and you feel a blend of excitement and guilt as memories of your passionate encounters fill you back.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on you.

Matthew interrupts your stares. "Good for you, Toto, victory champagne tastes extra sweet when it's been a while without you tasting it" his smile is big and bright, and Matt snaps back all innocent looking, his hand fondling your hip tenderly but visibly. "Isn’t that right, sweetheart?" he places a soft and sensual kiss on your lips.

Toto shifts and clears his throat, visibly tense, and with that, Susie’s curiosity peaks. She shifts her gaze between the two of you, eyebrows furrowing slightly before forcing herself to smile brightly again and with genuine confusion, she asks, "Are you boys always this competitive?"

You gulp, unsure whether to laugh out of nervousness or shrink. Matthew chuckles, clearly enjoying his mind games, while Toto plays it off with a casual shrug.

"Oh, it’s just a bit of friendly rivalry! Susie, it's not like something else was going on" Matt emphasizes the last words. Much to both your dislike.

Fuck, he knows. HOW?!

Is he surveilling you? Oh, you gotta have a word, well, no, let's better not.

Then orchestra starts to play and you all glance at the stage, feeling the tension ebb with the music. The national anthem begins, and with it, your interaction reaches an end.

-

Neither Williams nor Mercedes gets to sip that champagne. Seb finally makes it to the highest of the podium, and you cheer your lungs out for him along with George and Millie standing next to him.

The miracle happened, lucky bastard indeed!

In the middle of that celebration, Seb turns mischievously your way, shaking that bottle most menacingly, before you can even react you are soaked, and everyone around you runs away as the rivers of champagne fall in.

Seb jumps down the podium stage and reaches you, among pats, hands, and shoulder shakes, loud cheers following him along.

He screams into your ear, and yet you can barely hear him, the crowd and music so loud. "Maybe this sounds absurd, and perhaps is the worst moment, but I can't deny what I feel for you. If you give me a chance, could I take you out on a date?"

"WHAT!?" This takes you by surprise.

Seb looks at your reaction a bit embarrassed now, the red of his uniform blending up with his face, and expecting a massive rejection on his way.

"So you don't mind that I'm married?! You don't care about my past and all that's going on around me!? Are you serious?!" you look utterly shocked.

"No, I don't! I like you the way you are," he says, earnestly.

FUCK.

"But what about the press!? If they found out... WAIT, and your reputation!? Seeing us together could be damaging for your career..."

"Oh no problem about that, we won't hide"

"WHAT?!" your face is a poem.

"I'm never hiding... ever again. I'm going to love you freely and fuck the world" he smiles brightly, drops coming down his hair and big eyelashes.

"But... If you regret it?! And by then the damage is done, you need to think..."

"I don't care, honestly, but do you?" he captures your hands, which were going all over, like an Italian man illustrating something but on steroids, and caresses them.

"Well... I'm done with the hiding too"

"So we could... You know... try it?" his eyes spark, and he looks at you as the most precious being walking on earth.

He is crazy, this is crazy, you are crazy, but for some reason, you nod in agreement.

-

Mathew did not make that long travel to Japan just to join you at the GP, he wanted to give you the long-awaited news that finally you got Lenkov to go on trial in between happy tears, both hugging real tight.

-

Seb becomes your companion for this entire arduous and bitter process.

He even helps you practice your testimony acting as if he were the lawyer and judge questioning you.

That man has watched too much TV and movies.

"Where's my Emmy?" he asks you, papers in hand, dropping himself on the couch next to you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You chuckle.

-

Seb begs you to let him join you in person at the Lenkov's trial which will be held in a courthouse in Zurich, Switzerland.

He wants to be there for you when you have to face the man of your nightmares for the first time since you were a kid. You know that moment would take a toll on you.

But you say no, due to his protection and safe-being, you don't want to expose him.

-

You look astounded when you spot him among the court audience, feeling a bit mad at him at first but soon he becomes your rock during those three challenging nights.

Especially when he holds you in his warm embrace as you crash down in your hotel room, surveilled by security, after exchanging words and holding your own with Lenkov after years.

-

Going out on dates with Seb feels almost organic, natural, easy, and relaxed, there's no intimacy yet, not even a kiss, just tenderness all over, some cuddles, and nights spent together talking.

He is giving you the time you need, allowing you the space to heal, and it's exactly what you needed, who you needed, to pull you out of that void.

With Seb, there are no doubts, no secrets, just honesty and love.

The intrusive thoughts of Toto start to fade away, he slowly transforms into a distant memory.

-

Qatar

Nowadays, everywhere you go Sebastian is there by your side, at trips, galas, in corridors, at meetings, during breaks, at lunch and people are taking note of it.

Especially during the fancy party the Qatari organized due to their GP's anniversary.

You walked inside that luxurious open venue under the skylight, arm-in-arm with Seb, the two looking so comfortable with the lack of personal space between you.

As the party progresses, he, ever the charming gentleman with his warm smile, turns your way. His blond hair is tousled just enough to give him an air of carefree elegance; he looks radiant in his tailor suit while leaning closer.

“Shall we?” he asks you, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. It is a simple invitation that sends a cascade of feelings coursing through you.

With a playful pull, he leads you toward the empty dance floor, you walk shyly at first. Almost instinctively, people turn to see. You can feel their eyes on you, curiosity brewing as if you were an unexpected plot twist in a story.

As the live orchestra starts a new song, the smooth voice of the singer pours from the speakers, wrapping the room in a sweet, melodious embrace. “Sway,” begins, the gentle beat inviting you two to move closer.

Vettel pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist, his touch igniting heat. “Just focus on me,” he murmurs noticing your nervousness, his breath brushing your skin.

With a confidence that is uniquely his, he guides you into a gentle sway, your bodies moving in harmony with the sultry rhythm. You could feel the mix of surprise and judgment hovering at the tables, specifically the Ferrari and Mercedes ones.

Even from a distance, you caught sight of Toto's furrowed brow, eyebrows almost meeting in disapproval; Lewis watching with his arms crossed, shooting glances that said it all.

"Y/N" Seb sweetly calls your name, asking for your attention back. You look into his eyes, those deep pools of sincerity that are becoming so difficult to resist. Suddenly, your worries melt with each passing note, every sway bringing you closer to a reality where you can love freely.

His steady embrace encourages you to lean into him further, to bury yourself in his warmth, placing your head on his chest, and your entire group of friends gasp in complete disbelief.

"WHAT THA FUCK?!" Lando lets out, almost spilling his drink. "WHY?!"

Oscar and Samantha laugh at his reaction but are as surprised as him.

-

By the end of that night, you feel lighter as if finally you were liberated from constraints that had once shackled your heart. Maybe you were reaching several closures as a person.

-

USA

"Howdy partners!? PHEW! PHEW!" Charles greets Sam and you wearing the world's most insane cowboy outfit, barrell fake gun and all.

"You look like a cow with those spotted leather chaps!" words burst out of your mouth as an instant reaction, not even a hi first.

"Where did you leave Bob SquarePants?" Samantha asks him, howling with laughs. "It's giving Patrick Starr"

"PERFECT!" Charles seems way too cheerful about that.

It turns out Leclerc is dressed like this for a sponsor's charity event made in collaboration with Nickelodeon.

Families with kids are everywhere on the grounds and installations were created on the circuit's fields for the special event, Carlos is the first of the gang to join you there, still healing from his accident.

No one dared to ask you about your thing with Toto, even when something was clearly going on between you two, although not as clearly as it is with you and Seb, Toto was notifiable only if you paid attention.

But this time around it was impossible to ignore the elephant in the room, especially when the elephant was holding hands with you in public right now.

"So are you two..?" Mick asks with half a smile already forming on his lips.

"Yes." comes in unison from you.

They don't need to know more. They don't ask more.

-

After eating a delicious grilled burger, you observe the parents interact with kids, Everywhere you look around there are families and you wonder what that would be like.

Sam seems to read your mind and reaches you to hold your left hand, and then you feel Millie holding your right one, also getting a sense of what is going on, now you are in the middle of a Dobrev sandwich.

Then Normani holds Millie's hand, and finally, Seb joins in, adding "I don't know what is happening, but I just wanted to hold hands with you girls." he smiles big and bright, closing his eyes and taking in the sun rays feeling them on his skin.

-

It's George's birthday. And it goes the most awkward possible that can go.

Just by start, he is so freaked out about getting old, that much so he doesn't want to throw a party at all and refuses the group's many texts and invitations to go out.

So you guys being... YOU GUYS.

Plan a small gathering for him at the hotel bar, just a Casa Blanca-inspired night, something simple, not too over the top but old-timey and fun enough as his style is.

You all show up in your best tuxedos and gowns.

Hanging around in the same small space, with Seb by your side and Susie by Toto's feels awkward as fuck at first, but as the night progresses you come up with good terms at completely ignoring each other.

Even if you try to black it out, you are utterly aware of the "Wait isn't she married?! And those two know no shame!" vibes coming from people.

When you reach closer to greet Bono, hanging with Lewis as usual, you move to embrace Hamilton and he pulls you away, making your jaw drop and your heart sink. For the rest of the night, you seem keen to address it with him, you want to know how to fix it and understand fully what's going on.

But he doesn't allow you the chance.

-

For much that a visibly hopeless Niki tries to bring you, Lewis, and Toto closer, creating dumb excuses for you to interact.

Nothing succeeds.

Until Sam calls for a few rounds of "Cards against humanity" almost by the end of the party when it's just "the OGs" remaining as she and Charles love to refer.

And Toto drops a "Slap me____" card and you can't resist it for your life.

Answering "Like one of your headphones", making him and everyone laugh like idiots and steal away the points for you.

He bumps you playfully with his shoulder, smiling brightly.

For the first time in a while, it feels like it used to be.

Maybe the two of you could become friends?

Yeah, puff, who are you kidding!?

-

Mexico

During the Mexican Grand Prix, it was almost Halloween and Day of the Dead.

So you texted in advance on the group chat, weeks before, that you all should show up wearing costumes. Hey, dressing up is always fun!

So you arrive at the paddock, excited to see what the others pulled.

Your meeting spot is the usual, behind the medical wing, near the ambulances' entry, where you all have more privacy.

You get there along with Mick and Michael (who showed up in versions of their Williams uniform but like they were basketball and baseball players).

You went dressed as Niki - red cap hat, silver headphones on, plaid oversized shirt with an exaggerated size access badge hanging from your neck - rocking those denim dad's jeans, and a ridiculous and enormous flip phone along with like four walkie-talkies attached to your black belt.

"Goodness! HA, HA" George tells you, smiling big at you when you reach him; he was the first to get there, with Angela and Roscoe.

"Pow!" You throw him a pose, "Pow!" a turn, and another pose, "Pow pow!" you point to your orthopedic sneakers, it was all in the details.

"Wait till he sees you. He will love it, Oh, I need my Merc shirt in this version" George greets you while grabbing the fabric on Schumi's shirt. "This is so cool, mate!" They get caught in a conversation about Jordan, Kobe, and the old guard and prime of players while Mick and you play with Roscoe (who hates his costume and keeps taking it off, God knows how Angela was able to get him into his tootsie roll candy suit).

Lewis is not around there until a couple of minutes later, acting still cold at you, he just waves a hand your way and that's it. When George approaches him smiling and stands by his side it's when you fully appreciate their outfits; George is the fish, and Lewis the chips.

"Niki has a better ass!" Sam tells you, looking you all up and from all angles and slapping your left asscheek, she arrives dressed as Ocon's FIA time penalty charts, many large cardboard signs attached over a form-fitted black dress. Enough penalties to cover her to the knees.

And Millie arrives after with what turns out to be your favorite costume of the day as "Lewis lost-projected to the skies all worn-out tire from the Miami GP" It has you all rolling on the floor and gagging.

"Oh, It's so fucking good!" Sebastian tells the group looking like a cute Toad, and Millie pats his cute puffy mushroom head hat. "You can punch it and still I will not feel a thing. That's how puffy it is" he says, and four immediate slaps come on Sebastian's way. Big mistake.

After him comes Charles dressed as "Charles Brown", with an oversized t-shirt and shorts, but instead of a yellow one, it's a Ferrari's red zig-zag stripe one along with a tiny horse plushie popping out of his shorts pocket. His version of Snoopy.

You hear a sexy "Sum sum" to your left and turn around to be greeted by a Lando leaning sexyly on the wall in his censored naked Sim outfit.

"Argh! It's so genius!" Millie lets out.

Last but not least, Checo shows up dressed as a Catrin, which impresses you with how artistic and cool it is, with Carlos by his side wearing a Transformer version of his car. Everyone squeezes in the selfie before Angela takes a proper group photo. You feel ready to break the internet that day!

Smiles, chats, and laughter fill the place as usual when you are all together. But you are missing one, a very important one for you.

Where on earth was Toto? He is in the group. The idea of him in a silly outfit got you curious and eager for days.

Around 20 minutes later, Carlos notices a cameraman in the distance, then photographers start to snap pictures and get closer. You all try to ignore them and get them to go away.

You succeed but then, 10 minutes later, an FIA steward calls you to their offices.

You returned after a while, and now the group was forced to hang inside the W hospitality, since the fans and press found them, demanding photos and selfies, Michael saved everyone inviting them in, so you all are having nonalcoholic drinks, and food there.

"Guys the FIA wants us to get rid of our outfits, and change for quote on quote proper clothes, costumes are not allowed, apparently, "Makes us look unserious and cartoonish," they told me" You go and imitate a boring middle age man voice, "and it goes against the FIA dressing code, I had no idea there was a dressing code" you rub your chin, like thinking.

"Well, it's not like we are planning to race in these!" Checo adds as a reply to the absurdity. "Besides, it's super early! Of course, we will change, but not now. Well, I'm not. I don't know you guys?"

A lot of me neither are heard.

"What do they plan to do? If we don't comply, I mean. Penalize us all? It's stupid!" Sebastian comments, getting visibly annoyed at them, but in his usual calm and soft voice, resting his elbow on Checo's shoulder, he was on his feet, and Checo was sitting on the high stool, enjoying french fries.

-

Penalties for everyone. That's what they indeed did.

-

"Weirdly, Christian was the team principal who took it better when he got the notice" you gossip with Charles.

He even told me: "You should have let me know! I lost my opportunity to show up as Ginger Spice!" he joked with you when you both crossed paths on your way to the garages.

Your relationship with him is weird but good. He's a little shit and so annoying regarding work and his schemings, but he's an enjoyable person offside tracks. One day, you ended up sharing breakfast by chance, and he turned out to be different from what you expected, you spoke about life and so on. 

But with Toto, the news of getting a penalty on their way due to your dummy ideas went bizarre pretty fast, you recall.

"What happened to your costume? Did the dog eat it?" you tease Toto, looking at his plain Mercedes uniform that night in Mexico.

"I'm a team principal. I thought it wouldn't be a good look, and judging by the fine resolution, it wasn't," he answers you deadpan, arms crossed, both leaning relaxed against a wall near their motorhome.

"So, you do care about how you are perceived?"

"Not precisely, but I take my job, and my position here seriously."

Your eyebrows go up. "Thanks, man. I'm a joke, then"

He didn't mean it that way. But, hey, at least now you two are talking, instead of ignoring each other existence.

"Just because one has a little bit of fun while doing its work doesn't mean it's not professional" you defend your point.

"Shit, then, I should have shown up dressed as Roger Federer as I planned" he winks at you and enters his garage, ending the conversation right there.

Bringing you back to the present, Charles replies: "That's why I don't get them. Why do they create those stupid meetings promoting sportsmanship and building relationships to burn all bridges? It's absurd, no?" The three of you are in pajamas and getting facials since it was the end of the day.

"Toto was pissed. He truly hated you a bit." Sam informs you, in her insides even though she is happy you are with Seb, there's still in her this doubt about where you are truly regarding Torger. She thousands of times would prefer he was with you instead of back with Susie.

"Oh, that man takes his job too seriously! Could be bad for his health!" you hint no more.

"Not just him, you won't believe what Mattia warned us?! He pulled me and Sebastian to the side after a team brief, by the way, he hates Seb even more now that he's with you, and told us that we needed to get our mind straight, that you don't win championships by being the friendliest on the grid, and that we should stay aware of those so-called friends' real intentions" Charles spills the tea as the violet light of the mask on his face goes off.

"Imagine what would do to him if he found out you two live together?!" Sam starts to laugh maniacly.

"They are getting so paranoid! And that's Christian's job, and he was so chill" You roll your eyes, as the esthetician turns off your mask and pulls it away.

"Well, Millie and Lewis got added seconds, which is an advantage for his team and Max. So... I get why he be chill with it"

"Of course, he is going to be chill!" Charles agrees.

"I don't know guys, I'm not with you on this one! I think he meant it."

"It's just that we know him more." They both nod.

"Years, yeah, years," Sam states.

"I'm going to be more careful from now on, to avoid you guys' trouble, I'm still so sorry." you sound a bit sad.

-

You apologize for the hundred times on the group chat and you receive lots of "fuck them" replies.

"You do you. I don't care what the FIA says, you are the glue, I don't remember a near time when everyone was interacting like we are now and it's all because of you, you are the glue." Carlos expresses.

Those words warm your heart.

-

Before the race starts you tap Vettel's helmet tenderly, it's Morse code for the word love. He is inside his car already in formation.

Toto watches from a distance, but he turns away immediately as he gets caught by your eyes.

Yes. This could have been us if you had chosen me.

Lewis' car is right behind Seb's. He watches the full scene unfold before his eyes. You tried again to address things but he gave you no chance, he seemed so disappointed with you somehow.

-

After the race is over a furious Lewis intercepts Sebastian at the parking lot gates, as Vettel is close to his bike.

"You are a cheater, now?" takes him by surprise.

"It's not like that," Seb replies calmer, closing the gap. Lewis is wearing a gorgeous LV email leaning on an SUV.

"For real..." he rolls his eyes, angry, and shakes his head, hands entering the front pockets of his denim-pattered luxurious jacket.

"Lewis," says almost whispers, tender.

"You know I always held you so high." Hamilton bites his lips, not wanting to scream or cry.

"You trust me?"

"I don't know..." this seems to visibly hurt Seb, "If I do that anymore." he finishes saying.

"Why?" Sebastian sounds wounded.

"I don't comprehend who this is." Lewis gestures to him. "Who is this version of you? My Sebastian is a kind person and would never deceive anyone or hurt."

"Lewis, I am still that same person."

"Listen, don't mind me, you do you." Lewis moves his feet on the parking lot gravel, softly, he keeps his composure well.

"Lewis, it's not my place to tell you." Seb sounds hopeless.

"To tell me what?" Lewis for the first time, looks him straight in the eyes.

"The whole picture. Why don't you talk to her?"

"You are who I care about" his answer is fucking honest, "I just wanted to remind you that it never ends well, that you get burned when you play with fire, and that's all." Lewis shrugs his nose, sniffing a bit, the night air is as cold as this conversation.

"She cares so much about you, as well as I do, you know I love you. And I know you do, too."

"Well, as a person who got deeply hurt, almost annihilated, by a serial cheater, I don't feel like having business with someone of the same kind."

Sebastian knows Lewis means well. It is just his trauma and not understanding the whole picture talking.

"The truth always comes out," Seb reassures him. It is a phrase both faced in their lives.

Lewis always reacts weirdly when Sebastian has a new partner boy or girl. It was the same for him when Lewis introduced Miles to him. He just needs time.

"But, I hear you loud and clear," Vettel adds.

Lewis nods and gets inside the black-tinted car.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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[gothamite-rambler]

Harley and Scarecrow actually hate each other: Headcanon (or just wanting I wanted to try for fun)

Harley walked through the streets of Gotham and spotted Scarecrow fiddling with his jammed fear toxin machine.

Harley: Jonathan, you seem to be in a bit of a pickle.

Scarecrow (British accent, annoyed): Call me Scarecrow, you fecking know my name.

Harley: Your name is stupid, though, mate.

Scarecrow (condescending): Right, brilliant big words coming from Harley Quinn!

Harley (faking a British accent): Oh, bit harsh to say, innit?

Scarecrow: Don't say that, and don’t call me mate with that terrible accent!

Harley (smirking, leaning forward): At least mine is real.

Scarecrow (british angry): Sussex! I was born and raised in Sussex! Why don't you and that Spoiler—Let me calm down. I'm not dealing with you. Walk away, failed psychologist.

Harley: Big talk coming from a man who failed at being a psychologist—and British. Although you can't be missing much. I heard your soccer team is awful. You know, soccer? The correct way to call it.

Scarecrow: The American way, which also means the wrong way, stupid bent! At least we don’t measure distances with bloody American football fields!

Harley: Yeah, you just use stones to weigh stuff. And you eat beans on toast! When you lost the war against us, did we take your recipes too?

Scarecrow (really british angry): Beans on toast is a delicious meal! Where are all the bat brats to get you? I'm close to hitting you with my 'fear hose'! Don't play with me!

Harley: I'm sorry, bellend! How about we chat later over a couple of bo'oh'o'wa'er?

Scarecrow (tossing his hose to the ground): That's it! Let's go—put your fists up!

Harley (relishing this): You want to fight me? Perfect! I've always wanted to have a second round with you inbred failures.

Scarecrow: You are an absolute idiot and ruined your career for a clown! A literal clown!

Harley (mockingly): And you're a knockoff Alice in Wonderland villain. Mad Hatter says hi from Arkham, muppet.

As Harley smirked, the usually stoic Scarecrow growled and attempted to punch her. She caught his fist and punched him back. He quickly recovered and decked her in the nose. She sniffled but smiled and shook her head.

Harley: This is my type of pizza party! The next one’s for what you did to Nightwing!

The two began to fight, surprising most of the Bat-family, who watched from a distance. Spoiler pulled out her phone and started recording the sparring match, which involved slaps, punches, and headlocks, while Red Robin snuck over to disable the fear machine before it could be used.

Red Robin: Should we arrest him?

Batman: Nah, surprisingly, Harley’s got this one.

Orphan: They have history?

Batman: Yeah, they freaking hate each other, and Scarecrow hates everyone, so that’s saying a lot.

Nightwing: It’s funny seeing Scarecrow actually try to fight. Did she just defend me there too?

Batman: Yep. She felt bad after you had a breakdown from the toxin. Told me she wasn’t that bad anymore.

Nightwing shrugged, crossing his arms.

Nightwing: She's all right.

Harley (while giving Scarecrow a nuggie): Call them fries!

Scarecrow (really British and angry): Never!

[fuzzyduckduckyfuzz]

after all this time I still found you Timebomb part 8

Summary- months after jinx’s “death” Ekko had gone into a spiral, making everyone around his worried. He can’t stop the feeling that maybe she’s still out there, and it’s only when he finally goes looking for her that his dream and nightmare comes true

warnings- hella angst, some fluffity fluff, uh oh curse words, also mentions of depression and alcohol abuse.

Once again, Ekko found himself literally sprinting through the undercity, manoeuvring his way through bustling streets as he ran towards the fire light base. He was happy he had finally opened this place up to the public, happy him and his allies didn’t have to make a difference in silence anymore. He smiled fondly as he remembered vi and Caitlyn’s reaction to the news.

flash back

“What?!?” Vi exclaimed jumping up from her chair.

Caitlyn grabbed her by the shirt and tugged her back down to sit, a warm smile on her lips

“that’s a lovely idea Ekko. Opening your services to the public” she says kindly

“damn right it’s a good idea!!” Vi explained. A proud grin on her face as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest “I’m proud of you little man…but how exactly are you guys gonna pull that off?”

“wellll…i was thinking…with your guises help?” He says, his voicing getting higher pitched as he goes on. He knows it’s a large ask especially after…everything. But this is something he new he couldn’t do without there help.

“oh! Well…” Caitlyn trails off, she shifts her gaze to vi and then to you. Vi looked at her with a pleading puppy look that made Ekko snicker, and Caitlyn told her eyes “fine fine…we can help you out Ekko” she says, a fond smile in her lips

vi jumps up again and pumps her fist in the air “Hell yeah!!” She pauses when she notices one of the maids of the kiramman estate looking at her. She was unaware she had even walked in.

vi clears her throat and sits back down, feigning a calm persona as she clears her throat. “Ahem.i mean, yes Ekko that sounds great”

the maid quickly walks away from the awkward situation and Caitlyn and vi burst out laughing, but at the back of Ellis mind all he can think is “jinx…powder, would’ve loved this”….

end of flash back

Ekko chuckles to himself at the memory, but quickly shakes his head. He can’t dwell on the past when he has such an important mission to take care of. He soon reaches the entrance to the base and sprints inside, passing by other firelights quick so they don’t try and start a conversation, stalling his plan.

he must have looked like a goddamn crazy person, practically tearing the base apart trying to find this stupid clue from jinx, with literally no explanation from him to the other people in the building. When he finally thinks he thought of the wrong goddamn place, he remembers. His room! He hasn’t checked his room!

He raced through the building, making a b line to his room. He practically kicks in the door as he enters and he immediately starts tearing his already disastrous room apart even more. He has to step over clothes and empty booze bottles as he frantically looks around. He glances in the direction of his bed and, he had to admit, his bed looked extra comfortable after being out since the last night and the sun now almost fully risen.

he was having no goddamn luck finding this clue. Non at all. He lets out a frustrated huff and slams his fist into the desk, causing the area and surfaces around it to vibrate, and guess what falls on his head in that very moment. You guess it! The fucking clue! He lets out an annoyed grumble as he picks up the tin monkey.

“this is getting old.” He mutters as he takes the piece of paper from the monkeys hands. He unfolds it and reads the next clue

“haza! Haza! You found the damned clue! The next one my friend is rather close to you. A friend of mine and yours both very close bonds, holds the next clue that defines the odds”

he reads it am immediately knows who this person is but isn’t any less confused. Vi? How? Was she in on this? Did she know jinx was alive??

he continued to ask questions in his mind when he glasses at the window and sees…a peak of blue hair from the other side…that was without a doubt jinxes hair.

“jinx?!” He cries, running over to the glass door. He frantically opens it but just as he does, her hair disappears out of sight. He looks around in absolutely every direction calling out her name…nothing.

“…I think I’m starting to go fucking crazy…”