#the way I imagine their relationship is just

[flwrstqr]

【 愛 】 MUST BE LOVE 𓂃 WHEN YOU KISS THEM FIRST ────𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾-𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽. 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

엔하이픈 & fem!rea 𖹭 8OO establish relationship fluff imagines でも skinship petnames flirting kissing (obviously) ˊᯅˋ ❪ AMORE ❫ & clicks

다니 ⠀⦂⠀why do i feel like i haven't posted a ot7 fic in a while ㅠㅠ but here it is >//< hope you flueries enjoy MUAH

LEE HEESEUNG

“oh? what's this, baby?” heeseung chuckles, eyes glinting with mischief as you pull back, cheeks warm from the sudden courage that had you pressing a soft kiss to his lips. his hand slides to your waist, tugging you closer until you’re nearly in his lap. “didn’t know you were so bold,” he teases lightly. “come on, angel, don’t get shy now. one kiss isn’t enough, you know.” his thumb brushes slow circles against your hip, eyes never leaving yours as he leans in, barely an inch separating you. “what, did i steal all your confidence? you can kiss me again if you want,” he hums, lashes fluttering. his thumb traces slow, lazy circles on your hip, and the way he looks at you with a smirk on his lips. “c’mon, one more. for research purposes.”

PARY JAY

you press a quick kiss to jay’s lips, and the way his ears turn pink is almost too cute to handle. “oh?” he blinks, a soft laugh slipping out as he tries (and fails) to play it cool. “that’s all? you teasing me, baby?” his hands rest on your waist, thumbs brushing gently against your sides. he looks away, biting back a smile, but you can see right through him. “i mean, if you want more, i could—” he clears his throat, pretending to be casual. “i’ll pay you. $10 for another kiss?” when you raise an eyebrow, his lips tug into a pout. “fine, how about $1,000? is that fair?” his tone is light, but the way his eyes keep darting to your lips gives him away. “no? not even for a million dollars?” he sighs dramatically, pulling you closer. “guess i’ll just have to earn it the old-fashioned way, then.”

SIM JAKE

“hey—” jake barely gets the word out before your lips press against his, soft and fleeting, just enough to make him freeze for a second before you’re already pulling away. his brows furrow instantly, lips parted in disbelief. “that’s it?” he pouts, eyes narrowing as he leans in, closing the distance again before you can protest. his kiss is slower like he’s trying to make up for how unfairly short yours was. when he finally pulls back, breath warm against your lips. “you know the rule, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your jaw. “if you kiss me, i have to kiss you back.” his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “and since you only gave me one—” he steals another kiss, then another, grinning against your lips when you whine. “—i’m making up for it.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon barely blinks when you lean in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. he knew it was coming—the way you hovered near him, eyes flickering to his face every few seconds, fingers lightly tugging at his sleeve. you wanted attention. his attention. and who was he to deny you? without hesitation, he sets his phone aside, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into his lap. he presses a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek. “should’ve just said you wanted my attention, baby.” his hands settle on your waist, warm and steady, eyes flickering over your face like he’s committing every little detail to memory. “what do you want, hm? kisses?” he hums, tilting your chin up with his fingers before stealing another kiss. “or just me?”

KIM SUNOO

“yah—baby!” sunoo whines the second your lips press against his cheek, his hands flying up in protest as he dramatically inspects his reflection in the mirror. “i just did my skincare!” he huffs, lips jutting out in the cutest pout as he gently pats at his face like you just ruined hours of effort. but even as he complains, his ears turn pink, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips, like he’s secretly hoping you’ll do it again. you grin, leaning in once more, and he gasps, swatting at you half-heartedly. “no, stop—” his words die the moment you kiss him again. a beat of silence. then, with a defeated sigh, he mutters, “fine… just one more.” but the moment you pull away, he’s already tugging you back in, stealing another kiss for himself.

YANG JUNGWON

the moment your lips press against his, jungwon’s eyes flicker with something playful. before you can even process it, he’s already pulling you onto the bed with a mischievous grin. “oh? you think you can just kiss me and get away with it?” he teases, and before you can answer, he’s peppering kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead—each one quicker and more relentless than the last. you giggle, squirming under his hold as he hums in satisfaction, clearly winning whatever unspoken competition this has turned into. “hmm, i think i need more,” he muses, pinning you down just enough to press a dozen more kisses to your skin, his breath warm against your ear. “give up yet, baby?” but judging by the way he’s smiling, dimples on full display, he’s not planning to stop anytime soon.

NISHIMURA RIKI

the second your lips press against his, riki freezes—only for a beat—before a slow, smug grin spreads across his face. “whoa, whoa, whoa,” he drawls, leaning back with a teasing glint in his eyes. “you kissed me first? are you feeling okay, baby?” he places a hand over his chest, gasping. “wait—don’t tell me… you’re obsessed with me, huh?” he wiggles his brows, laughing when you groan and shove at his shoulder. but just as you’re about to turn away, he catches your wrist, effortlessly pulling you back in. “nah, don’t get shy now,” he murmurs, voice softer, teasing lilt still there but laced with something warmer. before you can process it, he closes the distance, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “see?” he smirks as he pulls away, eyes twinkling. “told you—you’re totally obsessed.”

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[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe2

[florihaei]

• ౨ৎ ────────── 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 ₊ ˖ ་.

엔하이픈 ꒰ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗌𝖾��𝖿𝗌

• ( 858 ) bf.enha 𓂃 est relationship + kissing, pet names, suggestive / ( FLORIHAEI VALUT )

reblogs and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!!, credits to boyfhee for the idea!!

HEESEUNG !

the second you stepped into the living room, heeseung’s eyes darkened, and his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. he leans back against the couch, arms stretched over the backrest, like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

“where do you think you’re going looking like that pretty girl?” his voice is lazy, but his gaze is anything but. it burns into your skin, traveling from the curve of your neck to the way your dress hugs your waist.

you tilt your head “out baby, why?”

heeseung chuckles, slow and deep before patting his thigh “c’mere for a second” when you hesitated, he grins “just wanna get a closer look at my baby before you make everyone else loose their mind.

when you do step closer, he doesn’t waste a second, catching your chin between his fingers before pulling you down for a kiss, slow and teasing like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you. he hums against your lips smirking “too bad i can’t keep you all to myself”

-

JONGSEONG !

jay’s fingers freeze on the cuff of his sleeve as you enter the room, his breath hitching slightly. his eyes trail down your figure, admiration and something else flickering behind them.

“you always look beautiful, but this?” he exhales shaking his head “it’s unfair..”

you smirk, steeping closer. “unfair?”

he hums, reaching for your hand and tracing slow circles on your wrists. “because now all i want to do is keep you here all to myself” his voice drops as he pulled you closer. “but you worked so hard getting dolled up, i guess i should let you go.. right princess?”

before you could answer, he leans in pressing a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, then another right at the edge of your mouth, teasingly slow. when you shift impatiently, he chuckles. “go on then, before i change my mind”

-

JAEHYUN !

jake was mid sip of his drink when you walked in, and now he’s just holding it frozen, mid air, staring

you quirk a brow, “are you going to say something?, or just keep staring at me baby..?”

he swallows, placing his glass down before standing up and closing the space between you. “oh im definitely going to say something” his fingers ghost over your waist before he leans in, lips barely brushing your ear “you look breathtaking sweetheart”

a warmth creeps up on your neck, but jake just chuckles, tilting your chin up. “your blushing already sweetheart?, i haven’t even started yet”

his lips find yours before you can even respond, the kiss deep and lingering, when he finally pulls away he lets out a low whistle “yeah.. i might need a minute to recover”

-

SUNGHOON !

sunghoon watches as you adjust your earring in the mirror, his arms crossed as he leans against the doorframe. his gaze is sharp, but there’s softness hidden in it too.

“you’ve been staring for a while” you tease, turning to face him “do i look okay?”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “that’s the problem, you look too good”

you laughed, stepping closer. “that’s a problem?”

sunghoon wraps an arm around your waist pulling you in. his breath tickles your lips as he murmurs “yeah because now i either have to let you go and suffer, or convince you to stay” his grip tightened just slightly. “what do you think princess?”

you barely have time to answer before he kisses you, like he’s trying to make you second guess yourself leaving. when he finally pulls away, he smirks “still sure about going out?”

-

SUNOO !

sunoo stops mid step when he sees you, eyes going wide. he blinks a few times as if making sure he’s not imagining things. “oh my goodness..”

you laugh at his reaction, twirling slightly. “is it that good?”

“that good? babe, you look unreal” he rushes over, holding your face between his hands. “like i always knew you were gorgeous, but this? this is next level”

you pout playfully. “so you’re saying i don’t always look this good?”

sunoo gasps, holding his hands up jokingly like he’s offended. “excuse me? you always look amazing, but this” he gestures dramatically. “this is lethal, i might actually faint.”

before you can protest further, he presses a soft peck against your lips, grinning “there, a little good luck charm for tonight.”

-

JUNGWON !

jungwon had been focused on his phone until you walked in. now he’s sitting up straighter, brows slightly raised as he takes in the sight of you.

“you…” he exhales. “ love… wow”

you chuckle, smoothing out your outfit. “that’s all you have to say?”

jungwon stands, closing the distance between you. his hands find your waist as he gazes down at you, voice softer now. “i just don’t know if i want anyone else seeing you like this love.”

you roll your eyes. “possessive much?”

he only hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “can you blame me?” his lips graze your temple before he sighs “at least promise me you’ll come back soon”

and just to make sure you do, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, it was brief but sweet enough to leave you wanting more.

-

RIKI !

niki’s reaction is more subtle than the others, but you don’t miss the way his eyes widen slightly when he first sees you. he tilts his head, studying you before nodding in approval.

“you look cool” he says simply.

you laugh. “cool?.. that’s it?”

he shrugs, but there’s a small knowing smirk on his lips. “would you rather i say you look really really pretty?”

you pause before nudging his arm. “i mean… yeah”

niki rolls his eyes but playfully ruffles your hair. “fine, you look really really pretty, happy now?”

you beam. “very”

he shakes his head but smiles. “good now don’t take too long, or i’ll get bored waiting for you to come back baby”

[dismalflo]

intervene

Poly!marauders x reader where james is oblivious to being flirted with ✩ 875 words

cw: reader is a lil jealous, fluff, established relationship

"She's obviously flirting with him, Rem," you murmur petulantly from your place on Remus’s lap. You've nestled yourself in a cozy armchair away from the chaos of the party, the two of you being the quieter pair in comparison to your more energetic boyfriends. Sirius had wandered off a while ago to do god knows what, and James—lovely, oblivious James—is standing across the room, completely unaware that the girl next to him is flirting with him. And, of course, you can’t help but glare at her from your spot.

"I know, dove," Remus replies with a lazy smile, pausing to squeeze your waist. His tone turns teasing as he adds, "I have eyes."

You whip your head around to look at him, incredulous. "You—you know? That's it? You're not going to do anything about it?" Your dramatics earn a soft smile from him, as he gently moves his hands to cup your face.

He plants a few quick kisses over your cheeks in an effort to placate you. And it works. You melt into Remus, happy to be doted on. Despite the noisy room full of people, in this moment with him, everything feels peaceful.

"I'm not doing anything about it because he keeps looking over at us and…" Remus’s mischievous glint catches your eye, that familiar spark he and the others get whenever they’re scheming. "Just imagine what Pads will do when he comes back and sees it."” 

Your jaw drops. "Oh, you're mean when you want to be." Despite the words, you cuddle in closer to Remus, and he beams down at you, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter.

"Mean? Me?" He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your temple as he continues to hold you close. "I’m just enjoying the show."

You glance back over at James and the girl. She’s still leaning in, giggling all but ignoring James’s distracted response. A strange mix of protective instinct and possessiveness bubbles up inside you. Just as you’re about to shuffle out of Remus’s lap and go retrieve James, you spot Sirius making his way over to him

You straighten up, suddenly feeling a little more tense. Remus’s arms tighten around you as he notices the shift in your demeanor.

“Here comes trouble,” he murmurs with a knowing smile, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

You can hardly hear the boys from where you’re sat but you do see the over the top fervent kiss Sirius gives James, the smitten smile on the curly haired boy afterwards, and the hardened features of Sirius’ face as he talks to the girl that was flirting a minute ago. Obviously she gets the hint, she walks off in the opposite direction and the two boys walk towards you and Remus.

Sirius arrives looking smug, bending down to give out kisses like he’s handing out gifts

"You’re welcome, poppet," he teases, and maybe your jealousy wasn’t as well hidden as you thought. Remus barks a laugh at your expense. James, still confused, looks from Sirius to you and back again, trying to process what just happened.

"Wait, what—did you—?" James stammers, blinking in surprise.

Sirius grins, savoring the moment. "Oh, I just, you know… intervened," he says with a dramatic flourish, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“She was flirting with you James.” Remus says bluntly, filling in the gaps of James’ knowledge. 

James looks at Remus with wide eyes, his face flushing a bit as the realization hits him. “What? She was? I—well, I wasn’t paying attention, was I?” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, still trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

You snicker at James’ obliviousness, then glance at Sirius, whose expression is a perfect mix of satisfaction and mischief. “Well done, siri”

James’s expression brightens with recognition, and he grins playfully. "So you sicced the dog on me, you little minx," he teases. "If you were jealous, you could’ve just said so."

You flush embarrassed to be caught and sink further into Remus’ embrace trying to hide from the teasing.

"Oi, I’m not a bloody dog," Sirius interjects, wrapping an arm around James and pulling him closer. "And you seemed to enjoy that kiss, Prongs."

James laughs, leaning into Sirius’s embrace, still a little dazed but clearly amused. "Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly complaining about it," he says with a wink. "And sorry for making you terribly jealous by accident, lovely."

You huff, "It wasn’t terribly—"

"It was, dove," Remus cuts in, his voice teasing as he remembers the dramatic pout you put on earlier.

"My poor baby," James exclaims, leaning over to pepper kisses all over your face, then doing the same to Remus just because he can.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. You can feel the warmth of Remus’ arms around you, his steady presence grounding you as the teasing continues. James leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and you can’t help but melt a little into him.

Sirius chuckles at the sight of you relaxing, finally breaking from your earlier pout. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teases, his smirk turning into something softer when you give him a playful shove.

₊��‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! <3

[v00do-d0ll]

I want a heartbreaking fic with the trope of

"Alfred Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne's Father"

It's in Alfred's POV starting with Martha and Thomas giving birth, and Alfred being handed Bruce and thinking "I think l'd die if anything happened to him." And it goes through all the aspects of Bruce's life through Alfred's eyes, with his internal thoughts.

Him being terrified that Bruce is going to take is life after his parents death. How Bruce no longer smiles or laughs. How he's just a shell of the boy he once was.

Finding out the Bruce has disappeared without a trace or a word to Alfred. Him being scared that something has happened to Bruce, and terrified over the thought that Bruce may never come home, and heartbroken that he may never see him again.

Bruce finally coming back to Gotham and Alfred realizing that this is not the same boy who left home, but a man who has gone through more things than he could imagine. Him realizing that Bruce is taller than he is now, larger to.

Bruce telling him that he's going to go out at night dressed as a bat to save Gotham, and the argument that ensues. Because he's scared that his boy is going to die on the streets of Gotham like his parents. But helping him anyway because his son has always been stubborn.

The nervousness when Bruce brings home a traumatized child from what was supposed to be a venture to get out of the house and do something normal for a change. Him not being sure if his son could look after a child.

Him seeing that Dick is actually doing some good for Bruce and watching as his son get's a little better each day taking care of Dick. Watching him become a father in his own right. Even if Dick doesn't see him that way yet.

Watching the devastation that the arguments between Dick and Bruce ensues. Knowing that Bruce is only scared of letting Dick go, but not being able to put that into words. Watching as each argument gets worse, the more Dick pulls away until it finally brakes and Dick leaves. Seeing the hurt that brings Bruce even though he unfortunately did it to himself.

Realizing that he picked up another child off the street.

Watching Dick come back just to scream at Bruce that he’s replaced him and gave the Robin mantle away when it wasn’t something for him to give. Seeing Bruce not form the right words to reassure Dick that he was not replaced, and making their bond break more.

Seeing Jason come out of his shell more and more, and watching the same effect Dick had on Bruce happen again with Jason. Watching as Dick comes back home more and more, and watching as Bruce and Dicks relationship starts to mend.

And then Jason dies, and nothing is the same.

The devastation of Bruce telling him that Jason was murdered. Bruce putting the funeral together quickly. Realizing that Bruce never told Dick about Jason until after the funeral. Their relationship snapping in two once again. The downward spiral that Bruce takes. Thinking, “He’s going to get himself killed, or he might do it himself.” And stopping him multiple times. Hearing his cries in the night, or him waking up screaming from another nightmare, and getting up to go into the kitchen so Bruce can “catch him there” and just sit with his boy for a long while. Knowing that nothing he can do or say will help his son.

Watching as he becomes more and more violent when he goes out at night, and not knowing what to do for his boy. Then seeing a small child come along and force his way into Bruce’s life. Watching Bruce try so hard to turn this boy away. Telling him to go back home. But the boy not listening. Tim is the child’s name, and seeing this boy do more for Bruce than he ever could. So even though it’s not a child’s place to fix a grown man, he is grateful. Because without Tim, Bruce would be dead by now.

Seeing Bruce get better but never the same as he once was, because he lost a child. His son. And Alfred has never been through that. But he’s grateful that his own son has not been taken from him yet…

Obviously there would be more but I can’t write all that down in a formate like this and I can’t write actual stories to save my life. But I hope you see my vision. In this fic it would also end up Superbat because they’re in love and you can’t tell me otherwise.

Bruce, visibly overwhelmed by Emotions as he watches a ten-year-old Dick goofing around in the batcave: Alfred. Alfred I think I'd die if something happened to him

Alfred: *carefully doesn't say that he thought the same thing when Martha and Thomas placed a newborn Bruce in his arms for the first time because he knows that'll completely destroy the little emotional bandwidth Bruce has*

[aaeeart]

this spawned into existence out of the "if you gave me a chance" part of Rather Be. because he would take it.

I know there was just not enough time to explore Kallus' time with the crew and I think it's a shame, because we could've got some wholesome moments.

And also moments like this, because Sasha has done things.

I kinda imagine his relationship with the rebels was rocky, kind of in the way Kieran was treated by Arthur in RDR2, though probably a little less harshly, makes me wanna read something like a diary that Kallus could keep about his time there, how his relationships evolved and stuff. Rambling <3

[makeyoumine69]

Delirium

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: During the wedding night, you suddenly ask Bruce to try for the baby because you've been thinking about it for a long time.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, smutty fluff, body worship, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, breeding kink, mild size kink, trying for a baby, true love, established relationships, dirty talk, pet names, hair pulling, marking, possessive behavior, biting, belly bulge, slightly Insecure!Reader, Husband!Bruce Wayne.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 4.3k

𝐀/𝐍: This is my first time writing for Bruce Wayne, I hope you like it!💕

The night was young in Gotham City, a million stars shone in the sky like tiny shards of glass, the white sleek yacht bobbed peacefully on the waves, anchored in the harbor waiting for its owners. Mr. Wayne and the newly married Mrs. Wayne were on their way to the harbor after the fancy wedding at the most prestigious restaurant in town, but the name of the restaurant had already slipped off your mind—you were too nervous about the upcoming wedding night and the little surprise you had prepared for your husband.

As the black limousine pulled up to the gates of the private section of Gotham Harbor, you tensed a bit—the echoes of the wedding party still vivid in your mind—and hugged yourself, sensing the soft material of your white fur coat, and looked out the car window in a feeble attempt to distract yourself. You'd never been this nervous before, and you couldn't really understand why, since you and Bruce were in love, and this marriage was the most genuine thing possible. At least you hoped it was, and so did he.

"Are you ready?" The man asked you briefly, turning to look at you and placing his hand on your knee, carefully running his fingers over the smooth fabric of your fabulous wedding dress. "Believe me, you're going to love it, honey."

You knew he was right—you would like it, of course, you would. But perhaps you were still unable to believe that the world around you was real, including Bruce as your husband.

Smiling a little shyly, you craned your neck to meet his intense gaze, his warm, big palm still caressing your leg, but not really going too far.

"Yes, I'm ready," you finally replied, putting your hand on top of his, and that little touch caused him to take your small hand in his and press a tender kiss against your soft skin. "It's just," your voice fell lower with a hint of uncertainty. "I've imagined all of this so many times…"

"Hey," your husband cut you off and cupped your face, forcing you to look directly into his mesmerizing eyes. "You don't have to imagine anymore. Everything is real and we're living this moment together," his lips curled into the boyish smile that always left you disarmed, his palm stroking your cheek with unadulterated tenderness. "Just let it go and I'll take care of the rest."

How this man always managed to be so charming, always choosing the right words to make you feel better, more relaxed. In those moments, you really believed that soul mates existed and that the two of you were definitely the most real soulmates ever—that unspoken understanding, that invisible line that connected the two of you, that was the strongest emotional bond— you could just reach out and press your hand against his strong chest and feel his heart beating so fast just for you.

And most importantly, it was all real.

Without saying a word, you leaned in to peck his perfectly shaved cheek before the two of you bent your heads to press your foreheads together in a moment of absolute delirium. Bruce held your hand, fingers intertwined like your souls. Entranced, you cuddled up to his massive frame and brushed your fingertips across his tuxedo, which was as dark as the night sky.

A little later, you reluctantly pulled away from each other as everyone on the yacht waited for you, including the captain and crew, who were probably already worried about the delay. Charming as ever, your husband offered you his hand as you stepped out of the limousine, and without hesitation, the man lifted you up to carry you, bridal style, all the way to the yacht. Even when you stepped on the ladder, Bruce never thought of letting go of you, holding you close to his chest like the most precious treasure he had.

Although it was not your first time on the yacht, you were amazed by its size and the luxury that surrounded you like the ocean around the yacht. It even made you feel a little uncomfortable. At one point you wanted to tell Bruce to slow down a bit and give you a second of respite, but one of the crew members, dressed in a perfect white naval uniform, was steering you somewhere deep inside the exquisite interior of the yacht. The long hallway you were walking through was lit by small chandeliers inscribed with diamonds, the finely made carpet underneath muffled the footsteps, making them almost inaudible. As you paused at the dark wooden door, something heavy dropped into your gut.

God, why couldn't you just stop being so nervous already?

"Your suit, sir," the young Marine replied, gesturing to the door in front of you. "If you need anything, let us know on the intercom."

"Thank you," Bruce nodded and the man turned on his heels before leaving. "Are you cold, sweetheart? You're shivering."

"No, it's okay, I just didn't expect everything to be so…"

"Extravagant? Does it bother you?" He asked, pushing the wooden door aside to carry you into the room.

Hugging his neck, you took in the surroundings, immersed in the opulence of the high-tech design and expensive furniture that screamed luxury. "'It doesn't," you murmured after a pause, still astonished by the unnatural atmosphere. "You just didn't tell me we were staying here."

Smirking, he just chuckled in response and strolled across the room to place you on the king-sized bed, which was covered in red rose petals—a clichéd but romantic choice.

"I hope it's not a problem," the man remarked, helping you to take off your fur coat. "I want some privacy," Bruce tossed your clothes onto the nearest armchair before taking off his own coat and then his wedding tuxedo, casually loosening the black bowtie. "A place where no one can bother us."

Leaning back on the bed, you watched him pull up his sleeves after undoing the gold cuffs and placing them on the small nightstand with a slight thud, and you could tell the man was a little nervous, too, though he tried to hide it.

"You never told me you had a yacht," you chirped teasingly, getting up from the bed to approach him standing next to the small portable bar. Bruce was rummaging through its contents, looking for a particular drink. "What other secrets do you have, Mr. Wayne?"

As soon as you reached him, you wrapped your arms around him and snuggled up against his broad back, the white shirt clinging so tightly to his muscular body, outlining his buff physique in the most delicious way.

Bruce's throaty laugh rumbled from his chest as he caught your hands and cocked his head to the side so he could see your playful eyes. "Why are you such a tease?" The man gave you a provocative grin, his smoldering gaze gliding over your beautiful face, paying special attention to your pretty lips. "I have no secrets, you know that. I'm like an open book to you," he slowly spun around to capture you in his embrace, lifting your chin to kiss it gently at first, but as soon as he heard your muffled gasp, his mouth was already busy leaving a wet hickey on the sensitive skin of your neck. "My love for you couldn't be more transparent."

"Bruce," you whispered his name in a slightly hoarse voice as your throat suddenly felt so dry. "Could you please wait for me here? I have a surprise for you."

Confused, he stopped in his tracks and lifted his dark eyes to you, his breathing already erratic and labored. "A surprise?"

You nodded and carefully removed his clinging arms from your supple figure. "But first you have to help me with this," you smiled mischievously and turned around so that he could see the ropes on the top of your voluminous wedding dress. "Uh, I think I forgot how to breathe normally in this dress."

Your husband frowned but didn't ask any questions, his hands tracing the curve of your back with undisguised admiration before he began to carefully undo the tight ribbons that together formed an intricate ornament. Rope after rope, more of your skin was exposed for his touch to feel, for his lips to caress, for his eyes to indulge, but as soon as the last lace was undone and the tight corset squeezing your chest was about to slip down, you caught it with both hands.

"Wait," you giggled at the tickling sensation as he kissed your shoulder blade, cupping your breasts and pressing you closer to him so you could feel how much he wanted you. "Bruce, please, I just need a few minutes."

With a low groan of frustration, the man finally released you and stepped back, leaning against the wall and catching air with his half-parted lips. "I hope you'll be really quick," Bruce declared, taking the bottle of some top-notch whiskey. "I can't make any promises regarding my patience."

Embarrassed and excited at the same time, you still held the wedding dress close to your almost naked body as you quickly rushed to the bed to pick up your purse, which was made of a fine cloth woven with gold threads. Bruce followed your every move with his attentive gaze until you disappeared behind the door in the small adjoining bathroom.

Once you were alone, you rested against the cold marble wall, breathing fast and feeling uneasy. There wasn't much time, as you didn't want to keep your husband waiting, so you quickly opened the faucet and looked at your reflection in the oval mirror framed in white gold, trying to regain some composure. The gurgling sound of the water seemed to drown out all the whispering voices in your head, which was your fear talking—a fear of being rejected and denied in your suggestions of… trying for a baby.

You let out a shaky sigh and closed your eyes for a second. Maybe tonight was not the best time for such offers, but the symbolism and romantic vibes of the wedding night were too appealing to drop the whole idea. But what if Bruce would not be happy? The mere thought of such a scenario sent cold shivers down your spine and made you claw at the porcelain surface of the sink. Sometimes it could be so hard to deal with your inner insecurities, because your mind could be easily manipulated by fear, making the worst outcomes seem like they had already happened.

Anxiously, you grabbed the purse with your shaky hands to open it, and then carefully took out a small package with something weighty inside—the pearls Bruce had given you the day he proposed, the family heirloom. As soon as you placed the elegant jewelry in your open palm, you couldn't take your eyes off it for a while, regretting that you never really allowed yourself to wear it, thinking that you couldn't accept such an expensive gift. After all, you loved this man not for his money, but for his personality and his big heart full of kindness not only for you, but for all mankind.

Somehow, such thoughts helped you to relax a bit and finally focus on the main goal of why you were here. In one smooth motion, you let the wedding dress slide down your petite frame until it was wrinkled at your feet, and as you stepped out of it, you looked into the mirror to see your naked body, and the only thing left was the pair of white lace panties. Without a second thought, you took them off as well, leaving only the white high-heeled shoes on. Then you carefully put the pearl necklace around your neck, taking a little extra time to fasten it, but in the end, the result was worth it. Running a finger along the smooth surface of the pearls, you smiled at your reflection, feeling good and confident about everything you had planned for tonight—your beloved husband would love it.

By the time you left the small bathroom, which looked as if you were the first person to ever use it, Bruce was lying on the bed, leaning against the headboard with one hand folded under his head. The dark-haired man didn't even hear you coming when you appeared in the doorway—completely naked except for the necklace and the pair of shoes. It was a miracle he didn't spill his drink all over himself and the bed, but you could tell he was having such a hard time keeping his composure because his eyes were now as dark as two black holes.

"Darling," Bruce only managed to say one word under his breath, obviously confused because he definitely hadn't expected anything like this. "I'm at a loss for words," he pushed himself off the headboard and stood up to put the glass on the bedside table without even looking at it, his eyes glued to your naked form. "'Cause there are no words to describe your beauty."

You walked towards him with a mischievous grin and he did the same. Bruce's face became more and more agitated, he even had to tug on his collar as he was literally suffocating, and the second there was no distance left between the two of you, the man knelt before you to hug your hips and bury his face in the warmth of your body.

"Mhmm," you closed your eyes and traced your fingers through his tangled hair, gently massaging his scalp. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

His hot breath scorched your bare skin, making you shiver and if he didn't hold you, you could easily fall. Intoxicated by your sweet scent, Bruce rubbed against your mound, peppering the area around it with little pecks as he began his ascent to your belly, then higher to the hollow between your breasts, and when he finally cupped them, you couldn't hold back your moans.

"A-ahh…Bruce," you leaned on his shoulders, clutching them almost desperately, wrinkling his shirt, smelling his cologne as it wafted around you like a hazy mist; your legs were about to give way from the intoxicating sensation of his tongue toying with one of your hard nipples. "Please…touch me…there…again."

Nuzzling your perfectly shaped breasts, the brown-haired man looked up at your slightly embarrassed face, the way you fluttered your big eyelashes so innocently sent tingles down his lower body and coaxed his dick to throb in his tailor-made pants. But all of that was nothing compared to your sweet little plea to be touched.

Without any hesitation, Bruce crouched down again and planted a lingering kiss on your pubic bone before he spread your legs a bit wider so he could get a taste of your already dripping pussy, and the second his hot tongue ran along your folds, you threw your head back, barely able to balance yourself on your feet with the last strength you had left.

"Like this?" He managed to ask between kisses, licks, little bites along your swollen lower lips. "You taste so good, Princess."

Tipsy from your taste, Bruce easily draped your leg over his shoulder to get better access to your blushing slit as he lapped at it like a starved man, giving everything he had for your pleasure. Whimpering and trembling in his hands, you looked down to see his blissful face bathed in red, his fingers digging into the soft mounds of your hips, holding you open for him.

"Ugh… Aaah…Bruce," you had to bite your lower lip from the tight knot that was swelling in your core, and with every flick of his tongue you were getting closer and closer to exploding like a pack of fireworks. "So good…please…keep going…mmmfffp!"

Your loud scream echoed off the walls of the opulent bedroom suit as Bruce stuffed your oozing cleft with two fingers at once, skyrocketing your pleasure at making you feel so full, stretched and overstimulated as he continued to slurp between your legs, sucking your throbbing clit from time to time in the most tantalizing way possible.

"Shit…oh shit," your voice cracked every time Bruce curled his long digits inside you to rub his finger pads against the spongy spot that was like a moth to the flame. "I'm almost there…ahh…please…"

You were about to gnaw at your hand when a million invisible tingles pierced through your nerve endings, setting them ablaze, and just when you thought you were going to faint and your heart was going to jump out of your chest, Bruce suddenly picked you up and threw you on the bed. In an instant, he was back between your legs, holding them apart and using everything he had on you: his teeth, his lips, his fingers, his tongue. Anything that would help him complete his mission to turn you into nothing but a wet, whimpering mess.

"Let it go, darling," the man husked, hoisting your legs over his shoulders, his digits buried knuckle deep in your soaped pussy once more. "Show me how much you love it."

And how could you refuse this man when he was so determined in every move he made?

Your orgasm washed over you in an awesome wave that forced every little part of your body to contract, your soft inner walls clenching mercilessly around his fingers as the man kept pumping you until the very last aftershock hit your body. As you wrinkled the white sheets, you saw stars dancing in front of your eyes as you looked up at the ceiling above you, your chest rising and falling so quickly that you even found it difficult to breathe—the level of pleasure was so immense that you had to put a hand to your head as a clear sign of how overwhelmed you were. And so was Bruce, but unlike you, he was still locked and loaded, his dick so hard it hurt, but he didn't want to rush things by fucking you right away. Instead, the man reveled in the sight of your post-climax body, your pussy covered in your flavor just like his face and his fingers, and he didn't forbid himself to take a moment and clean every last ounce of your cum.

Breathing heavily, Bruce straightened up to take a proper look at you—still shaking and unable to speak. "If you could see what I see right now," he murmured, hovering over you, taking both of your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. "So vulnerable," he nipped at your neck, using his other hand to practically sever his bowtie and several of the top buttons on his shirt. "So wet and hot…and completely at my mercy."

"Yes," you almost screamed the word, writhing beneath his heavy muscles, but not really trying to free yourself from his trap. " All of this... is for you."

"Say it again." Bruce demanded, and the next moment you heard him unzip his pants, your wrists still locked together and nailed to the mattress. "Tell me you're mine. Only mine."

Unable to maintain the intense visual contact, you closed your eyes and instinctively bent your legs, spreading them wider as you felt his hot length pressed against your dripping slit while he smeared your wetness around it, teasing your clit with barely perceptible rubs of his swollen tip against it.

Panting, you arched your back into his touch, wanting to feel more of him. "I'm all yours… only yours!"

Hesitant, Bruce wanted to say something more, but then he noticed the shining necklace around your neck—the realization hit him like a freight train. How could he have noticed it only now? The man must have been blinded by your beauty, unable to notice anything else. He outlined the roundness of one of the pearls and took a moment to contemplate, memories of your relationships flashing before his eyes as if he watched a documentary based on your lives.

"You finally wore them," he whispered against your mouth, loosening his grip on your wrists to stroke your warm cheek, the weight of his sturdy body still pressing against you like a heavy blanket. "They fit you more than you can imagine."

You smiled, barely holding back the itching tears that suddenly formed in the corners of your eyes. "Bruce," you hugged his shoulders faster than you could actually think, holding them as if they were the only anchor to reality. “I love you,” you watched him closing his eyes and leaning closer to brush his nose against yours and his hips were moving in their own momentum to keep you reeled up. "I love you so much, please, I want you, I need you!"

Those words, laced with such desperation and longing, were the last straw and Bruce couldn't resist the urge to own you here and now. Not anymore. Briefly licking his lips, the man leaned down to capture your mouth in a sloppy, almost brutal kiss, then placed a hand next to your head to lean on it, shifting his weight as he unceremoniously pulled down his pants, groaning as his dick grinded against your folds, your pelvis, the underside of your delicious hips.

"Fuck, you're literally perfection," he suddenly blurted out, giving himself several quick strokes before aligning his thick cock with your worn-out opening. "My perfection," Bruce thrust into you in one smooth motion, keeping one of your legs stretched to the side for the really deep penetration. "My wife…arghh…my love."

The bed began to crack beneath your bodies, your moans, his grunts, and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh mingled in a bawdy cacophony of pure lust. There were no barriers, just raw passion that you both experienced, you looped your legs around his lower back, sinking your nails into his skin as you sought some semblance of support in his shoulders from how hard he was fucking you. And that could only mean that Bruce had really lost control, that you had managed to push him beyond his limits, but as if that was not enough you rested both of your hands on his firm ass just to grope it with all your might.

Inflamed to the point of no return, he placed himself straight on his knees, lifting you up a bit to change the angle to hit all the hidden spots inside you as he wanted to feel you squeeze his dick in unbridled pleasure; the sight of your bouncing breasts only added to the depravity of the current situation, forcing him to grit his teeth as he felt himself on the brink of falling apart.

"Mmmh-Bruce ," you gripped his toned hips, unable to open your tear-filled eyes. "Put a baby inside me…please!"

Knitting his prominent eyebrows and slightly shocked by your sudden offer, the man did not stop pounding into you, literally impaling your body onto his beefy cock with pure abandon, as if you were going to die tomorrow. But the idea of breeding you, holy shit, could be something even hotter than that? The image of you carrying his child almost pushed him over the edge and he had to slow down a bit, leaning on the fist he was pressing against the bed.

"Do you… do you really want this?" Your husband asked in a gruff voice, wiping the sweat from his tense forehead.

Gulping, you looked up at him through your heavy lidded eyes before you took his large hand into your smaller one to press it against your abdomen. "I want you to fill me with your seed… until I am s-so full of it," you stammered as you felt the outline of his cock poking into your lower body, Bruce pressing his palm harder against your skin, feeling the same. "Until you get me pregnant with your kids."

"How can I say no to my dear wife… when she asks me so nicely?" Bruce replied through clenched teeth, literally doing his best not to cum right here and now. "Uh, pregnancy will suit you so beautifully, my darling."

Having said that, the man quickly pulled out of your pliable body to change positions, so that you were now standing on your knees and elbows, hugging the big pillow to muffle your screams as he began to fuck you from behind, grabbing your hair as he rammed himself into you without restraint. A white veil covered his vision as he was about to lose himself in this debauchery, in the way your ass jiggled, in the way you arched your back, in the way you moaned his name. Not to mention your pussy clinging to him like a vice, ready to milk him to the last drop. For a moment, Bruce didn't even realize that he was also moaning from the overwhelming pleasure, his hips snapping against yours as hard as he could, longing to bury himself as deep as he could. As soon as he felt the burning tension at the base of his spine, he leaned over you to literally bite into the wet mark he had left on your neck moments before, sneaking his hand between your legs to rub your feverish clit, and as your second orgasm crashed over your system, he was finally able to let himself go, shooting thick spurts of his fertile seed into you until it began to flow down your inner thighs, dripping onto the sheets.

Bruce was only able to find some peace after he had claimed you in the most primal way. It was such a strange feeling of tranquility, but somehow it turned out to be what he had been looking for all this time—the knowledge that the woman he loved more than anyone in the world would now carry his legacy. One day the world would be saved and he could spend the rest of his life with his family by his side, and that was something he was truly willing to fight for until his last breath.

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

I think we should worry less about labels, in general. I get that they can be very helpful and comforting to some people and for very quickly communicating the gist of things, they're quite good.

When I want someone to just understand that I like multiple genders with a tendency to prefer one over another, "I'm bisexual" gets the job done a lot quicker than describing the whole situation, everyone I've ever found attractive and who out of these people I'd actually sleep with.

But I feel like we've gotten really caught up in this way of thinking that dictates that every unique human experience needs a name and it's really confusing and limiting.

If a straight person finds someone of the same gender/sex attractive just once, they're suddenly confused and rattled, because they don't know what this means for their identity. Are they still straight?

A lot of terms are from a time when sexuality was better understood than gender and thus, the definitions of terms were still based on a gender binary. Now that this isn't the case anymore, we're struggling to say who can and can't be [label].

Can trans men be lesbians? Where do intersex people fall in this? Are nonbinary people trans, because being trans is just being not cis, or can they not be trans, because being trans has to do with transitioning? But not all mtf and ftm trans people transition either, and they're still valid, so-

Do you see what I mean? The definitions are so imprecise and we keep arguing about them, which is fucking pointless. It's not getting us anywhere. We shouldn't be infighting at all, but especially not at a time like this, when many of us are in peril and we're all in this together.

Who cares about these fucking definitions, man? Does it matter if I'm aro or just have commitment issues so big I can't imagine having a relationship? The result is the same. I'm not interested in a romantic relationship. Why am I worrying about whether a label fits me rather than thinking about how this part of my identity affects my life? Does it matter if chopping my tits off makes me trans? The result is the same, I look and feel different.

I get wanting to find out more about yourself and wanting to put everything in neat little boxes and having tools and words to find people just like you to share your experiences, support and advice with, I truly do, but I feel like we're really pulling the noose tighter around our own necks by focusing more on labels than on the fact that we're all human, we all have things in common as well as differences, and we're all too complex to describe with a single word per aspect of our identity.

You shouldn’t have to be trans to get any sex characteristic-related surgery. It’s not a limited resource. Plenty of cis men get implants and cis women get breast reductions. From Colby Gordon today and Leslie Feinberg in Transgender Warriors (1996).

[thehoneybeestings]

Arcane Actor Au's - Actor!Sevika x Actor! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Content/Warnings: sfw, arcane au in which they're all actors starring in the show, softttt sevika, loser!sevika if you squint, actress!reader, reader is fem/referred to with fem terms and pronouns

A/N: i am sure i'm not the only one who likes to imagine that every character in arcane is simply an actor, and they were simply acting; not actually experiencing the tragedy they cannot seem to catch a damn break from... so, without further ado, here is this first installment of this series!

as per the poll i posted, sevika will be first, and vi is up next!

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

Nina Singh as Sevika

୨ৎ You’re an up-and-coming actress, with Arcane being your debut television series

୨ৎ The audition process was no easy feat; after its first two seasons’ massive success, it was clear that Arcane’s casting directors were looking for the best of the best, and you were up against some intense competition

୨ৎ Some of which were were a-listers, so naturally, you had your moments of doubt, assuming that there was no way you were beating any of them out

୨ৎ You persevered anyhow, due mostly to the genuine love you had found for the character you were auditioning for: Evette, a prodigy mechanical engineer from Zaun who lands herself an internship with Hextech Labs. 

୨ৎ Her story consists of the tragic loss of her parents at the hands of enforcers, unyielding ambition driven by the desire to honor her late parents, and of course, one of the yummiest sapphic slow burns on television to date

୨ৎ You’re sure this slow burn is the main reason why so many actresses scrambled to land this role, and you couldn’t really blame them

୨ৎ Nina Singh was irrevocably and undeniably one the hottest people in existence, playing Sevika, one of the hottest characters in existence

୨ৎ This made for some very awkward chemistry tests between Nina and a few potential Evettes; actresses focusing so much on trying to seduce Sevika that at times, Nina felt like she was shooting the intro to some shitty porno

୨ৎ Then came you: one of the finalists for the role of Evette, unbeknownst to you 

୨ৎ You’re a nervous wreck in front of Nina- she’s an a-lister herself- and even still, your ability to embody Evette and bring the depths and nuances of her relationship with Sevika to life leaves the room taken aback

୨ৎ You’ll never forget the day of your chemistry test; you’re exchanging the final lines of the short scene you’re given to perform with Nina, heart pounding in  your chest

୨ৎ “Not getting any younger,” Nina gruffs in character, nodding towards your tedious work tightening the loose bolt on her arm, “and I’d rather not spend more time with a Piltie than I have to.”

୨ৎ Nina’s got a prosthetic arm in real life, so there’s actually a little bolt she lets you toy with for the scene

୨ৎ “If you want to leave with your arm short-circuting, be my guest,” you sigh, “but I don’t do sloppy work.” Your eyes flit up to hers for a moment- just until she catches you staring- before you continue tinkering with her arm. “And for the record,” you say, finally leaning back to admire your handiwork, “I’m not from Piltover.”

୨ৎ Nina’s brows furrow in confusion for a split second before she conceals her interest with Sevika’s typical scowl. “You didn’t tell me that.”

୨ৎ You smirk, looking up at her through your eyelashes. “You didn’t ask.” 

୨ৎ “Jesus,” the director calls out, “You two… I mean, the chemistry is palpable. Exactly what I'd envisioned. What do you think, Nina?”

୨ৎ You feel shy under her knowing smirk

୨ৎ “I think we’ve got our Evette.”

୨ৎ “Yeah?” The director responds with a smile, “What do you think, Y/n? How would you like to join us for season three of Arcane?”

୨ৎ Frankly, you almost shit yourself in front of the entire room

୨ৎ Thankfully, you’re able to keep it together and accept the role like a normal person; and now, here you are, three years later, and Arcane fans are obsessed with you

୨ৎ Even more than they’re obsessed with you, they’re obsessed with you and Nina 

୨ৎ Your character is a catalyst for the well-deserved, long overdue exploration of Sevika’s character and her vulnerabilities, and you and Nina are so invested in your characters that the bond you develop while filming inevitably goes beyond screen

୨ৎ At first, you’re wildly intimidated by her; she’s a renowned actress who’d been in the industry for a while, most known for roles similar to Sevika: guarded, icy, domineering

୨ৎ You’re quite tickled (and pleasantly surprised) to learn that Nina is the exact opposite

୨ৎ As soon as cut is called, she’s breaking into a smile, cracking a joke, or praising you for your performance

୨ৎ After particularly heavy or intense scenes, though, her expression tends to remain serious, and her focus isn’t on anyone but you until she knows you're all good

୨ৎ There’s one scene in particular- one where Sevika’s ripping into Evette- that Nina still feels bad about

୨ৎ It’s the first scene she thinks of when a journalist asks which scene from season three was the hardest to film

୨ৎ “I hate having to yell at her,” she says. “I can’t stand it; and you saw her bring on the tears- man, it broke my freakin’ heart!” 

୨ৎ You reach over to rub circles in between her shoulder blades, playfully rolling your eyes

୨ৎ “Poor baby,” you say, sticking your bottom lip out in a mocking pout

୨ৎ “So I take it Sevika’s disposition is much different than Nina’s?” The journalist inquires

୨ৎ “Oh, 100%,” you nod, “Apart from the RBF, Nina is a softie. I’ve never seen her angry.”

୨ৎ “I’m not a softie,” she mutters, resting her chin in her hand, “and what is RBF?”

୨ৎ “Resting Bitch Face,” you say in tandem with the journalist

୨ৎ She lets out a loud laugh, doubling over in her seat

୨ৎ It’s after this interview that fans begin to pick up on some… not-so-platonic energy between you and Nina

୨ৎ Nina is very sweet, yes, but she’s also very shy

୨ৎ But it seems that whenever she’s around you, she’s much more comfortable, coming out of her shell more than ever

୨ৎ Thus prompts the compilations 

୨ৎ “Nina Singh and Y/n Y/l/n being in love for 12 minutes and 54 seconds”

୨ৎ “Every time Nina manages to make the conversation about Y/n compilation”

୨ৎ “Take a shot every time Y/n makes Nina blush challenge: extreme”

୨ৎ But there are three moments in particular that fans can’t get enough of:

୨ৎ 1. The forever immortalized moment where you made Nina blush during a red carpet event

୨ৎ It wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to be paired for most press appearances, considering that your characters were a package deal in season 3, so you’re not surprised when you’re being photographed on the red carpet at the season premier and the photographers want a shot of you two together

୨ৎ “Let’s get some of the two of you, yeah?” the line of photographers begin to call out

୨ৎ Your hand reaches out for Nina- who’s a few feet away, getting her own photos taken- and she quickly slots next to you, arm wrapping around to hold your waist

୨ৎ Her fingers comb through her hair; once, twice, a third time

୨ৎ “My hair won’t stay out of my damn face,” she grumbles

୨ৎ Suddenly, you’re turning to her, reaching up to tuck the stray tendril of raven hair behind her ear and brushing back any other stray pieces

୨ৎ “Better?” You ask, turning back to the cameras like nothing had happened

୨ৎ You don’t notice that she’s acting like a total loser now; all fidgety and shy and awkward

୨ৎ In fact, she gets so bashful that her hand comes up to hide her face

୨ৎ And, of course, who wouldn’t photograph a moment so adorable?

୨ৎ She’s forever haunted by the circulation of her photographed schoolgirl crush freak out

୨ৎ 2. The one and only time she’s ever gone Sevika on someone in real life; and it was to defend you 

୨ৎ You’re sitting on your very first panel at a popular convention, as star-struck by the sea of fans in front of you as they are by the actors and actresses in front of them

୨ৎ This was the most pressure you’d felt during the press tour yet; being interviewed in real time in front of the show’s biggest supporters, answering questions from the show’s biggest supporters

୨ৎ Luckily, the crowd had been great so far

୨ৎ (You’re also sat in between Nina, who always eases your nerves, and Ekko’s actor, who you definitely shouldn’t have been seated next to because all you two do is cut up smh)

୨ৎ Until, a perturbed fan has a question for Nina

୨ৎ “I heard that Natalia Richmond was in the running for the role of Evette; I’m a big fan of both of your work, and I was honestly a little bummed to hear that she wouldn’t be starring alongside you. Not that Y/n didn’t do a good job, but do you wonder what Evette’s character could have looked like if someone else had gotten to take a stab at the character?”

୨ৎ The room falls silent

୨ৎ Your ears burn with embarrassment, and on instinct, you look over to Nina, whose jaw is set

୨ৎ She lowers her mic, turning her head to you with a scoff

୨ৎ “Are you fucking kidding me?”

୨ৎ The crowd lets out an awkward laugh; her mic had picked up her grievance 

୨ৎ Not that she gave a fuck

୨ৎ “Well,” she exhales, bringing the mic back up to her mouth, “truthfully, I don’t think Y/n did a good job. I think she did an incredible job.”

୨ৎ Your breath hitches in your throat

୨ৎ Her voice is stern, assertive; and for the first time since you’ve known her, Nina Singh is pissed

୨ৎ “I wouldn’t have been able to deliver the performance I wanted to this season without her. Sevika’s character arc would not have been executed as well as it was if i’d worked alongside anyone but the woman to my right; so no, I do not wonder what Evette’s character would have looked like if she weren’t played by Y/n, and I haven’t wondered since the day we had our chemistry test.”

୨ৎ With that, she sets the mic down, leaning back and crossing her arms in front of her with a scowl still on her face

୨ৎ The crowd gives her an applause- thankfully, the majority of Arcane’s fans adored you and could not have pictured the Arcane universe without you- and you lean over, giving Nina a “Thank you” and a squeeze on her arm

୨ৎ “Don’t mention it,” she shrugs; and at the sight of the warm smile on your face, she’s a giant teddy bear again

୨ৎ 3. The time you and Nina casually dropped that you’re basically U-Haul Lesbians

୨ৎ You two are setting up for an interview, and the camera is already rolling as your makeup artists powder your faces and your mics are adjusted

୨ৎ The footage starts in the middle of an idle conversation with the journalist

୨ৎ “So you hadn’t heard of RBF until then?” she asks

୨ৎ “I must be getting old,” she shrugs. She gives the makeup artist a soft “Thanks” as they walk away before she continues. “I hadn’t heard that phrase a day in my life; although I had heard that I’m a little unapproachable.”

୨ৎ You chuckle to yourself, thinking of the first time you met Nina; she does tend to sport a furrowed brow, but as soon as she speaks, she’s as kind as can be

୨ৎ “I didn’t think you liked me when we first met,” you muse 

୨ৎ “Oh, well you were right that time. I don’t like you.” 

୨ৎ You all burst out into a fit of laughter 

୨ৎ Anyone who knew of Nina knew of her affection for you

୨ৎ “Right, that’s why we're roomates; because you hate me so much,” you chuckle.

୨ৎ “Exactly- ‘s why we took in a stray cat, too, because who does that with someone they like?"

୨ৎ The journalist is now looking at both of you, gobsmacked

୨ৎ “You mean to tell me you two are living together and took in a stray cat together?”

୨ৎ Cluelessly, you both look to each other, then back to the journalist

୨ৎ “Yeah,” you smile, nodding innocently

୨ৎ “So you two are basically married…” 

୨ৎ Nina snorts, and you giggle, and you both agree

୨ৎ And that night, when you’re both back at home, Nina finally asks:

୨ৎ “Well, since we’re basically married, are you gonna let me take you out to dinner?”

୨ৎ Bonus: 

୨ৎ Yes, there was a sex scene

୨ৎ No, the two of you did not hear the director say cut

୨ৎ Tweets below… enjoy.

End ୨ৎ

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Ready for Sleep

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You fall asleep with Bucky after a tough mission.

Disclaimer: mentions of body injuries from a mission, established relationship, domestic fluff, short read. Not proof read.

You were ready to sleep for a year. Three severely bruised ribs and two dozen other bruises scattered across your entire body, a stiff neck that had been reminded a little by a hot shower, at least a dozen cuts and scrapes to your skin and enough images that will probably pop up one random night in a nightmare when you’re least expecting it. It was safe to say you were tired. 

Bucky had spent most of his morning reading. After two back to back missions, he’d been ready for a break so when Banner and Cho had forced Fury’s hand and allowed both himself and Sam to take a few weeks rest, he was more than happy to take it. 

He hadn’t heard you come back. Nor had he heard you limp down the hallway towards your room a few hours before his alarm went off. But he heard you when you walked into the living area just a little after two. 

“Hey- oh-” 

Holding the book still on his chest, Bucky looked over at you as you slowly made your way inside and across the room to him. Your hair was down and wet from your shower, your clothes had been changed from your standard black tactical gear to a fresh black t-shirt and a pair of shorts. 

“No, no, stay where you are.” You said to Bucky as he began to move. But you didn’t want to have to be constantly moving. You were ready to sleep. 

“What happened? I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.”

Almost as easy as breathing, Bucky spread his legs a little and helped you down onto the sofa with him until you were lying comfortably beside him. 

“We wrapped up early since we kinda got caught. Nothing’s broken, I promise.” Bucky’s hand softly rubbed at your arm as you got comfortable. He pressed a short kiss to your hairline. 

“Why didn’t somebody call-”

“I asked them not to.” You looked up at him. “You would have been worrying for nothing.”

Bucky just gave you the look of someone still should have called me. 

“I promise. I’m okay. I just want to sleep.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.” Then he kissed you. 

If his kiss couldn’t heal you, nothing could. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You graced him with a softened smile. “I am now.”

Bucky smiled down at you before kissing you slowly again, his hand softly wrapping around your wrist that lay on his chest. It was something he’d done since the beginning – counting the beats of your heart through your pulse. A reminder to him that you were real and not a figment of his imagination. 

“Want to tell me what happened?”

You were slow to nod. You’d already said everything on the video report on your way back home so it wasn’t like you needed to. But he was a worrier. And you found it easier talking to him than you did most people. 

“It was by complete accident. One of their new recruits didn’t know their way around the base so took a few wrong turns and ended up finding us. They did what they’d been told to do and pressed their button which alerted everyone else. From there, it was what you’d expect. Lots of noise, a lotta shouting and enough dust to give the desert a run for its money.”

Bucky chuckled and you felt the rumble in his chest under your ear. Softly, his fingers traced up and down your arm and side as you continued to explain. 

“We got what we went for. Though I paid a pretty good price for it.”

“How many?”

“Three. Bruised though, not broken. We landed this morning and I’ve already left everything for Hill on her desk.”

Bucky hummed. “You know she’s gonna be mad you broke into her office again.”

“Then she shouldn’t make it so easy for me to get in.”

Bucky chuckled again. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Came back here, took about an hour to get undressed and get into the shower.”

“Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“Didn’t want to wake you.”

A small scoff came from the back of his throat. “I’d rather you come and wake me up than put yourself through more pain.”

You just looked up at him. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise. Besides, it probably would have taken longer for me to get in the shower with you there.”

You didn’t miss the way the blush dusted his cheeks and ears when he realised what you were talking about. Then he laughed. “Okay, maybe you’ve got a point.”

You just smiled and kissed him again. 

“Want me to get you anything?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. I just need you and some sleep.”

With a soft smile, he kissed you again. “I think I can do that.”

Reaching to the back of the sofa, he pulled the thin blanket over you and him as you laid your head back on his chest. Within minutes you were fast asleep, his heartbeat beating steady in his chest helping you do so. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Nothing But Net III

Leah Williamson x Netballer!Reader

Summary: Leah is dramatic about your move

"Am I not essential?" Your girlfriend asks in her usual brand of drama," Don't you want to take me with you?"

You glance behind you as Leah sprawls herself out onto your suitcase, attempting to cram herself into the small space before deciding to just spread out all of her limbs so you could squish nothing in around her.

"Leah, you know I want you to come with but unless, you're leaving Arsenal, it's not happening."

She grunts as you roll her out of the suitcase and face first onto the bed.

You hum to yourself as you fold your clothes and place them into the case.

A small smile makes its way onto your face as Leah continues to lay face down in the pillows.

You couldn't imagine her ever leaving Arsenal. You think she'd sooner retire than leave that club.

"Do you think we can get Arsenal to relocate?"

"To Australia?" You giggle," I don't think so."

Leah rolls over, settling on her side as she watches you pack. "You're going to be so far though. I'm going to miss you."

"I'd hope that you would, seeing as you're dating me. I'd have questions if you didn't."

"You know what I mean" Leah says," We haven't slept apart since you moved in. I don't know what I'm meant to do now that we can't cuddle."

You drop your last shirt into your suitcase, sitting on the edge of the bed as you look around the room.

The offer from the Adelaide Thunderbirds had come out of thin air for you. You hadn't been expecting it but it was an offer you were more than eager to accept.

But you didn't.

Not at first anyway.

Australia was a long way away. An especially long way away when you took into account your girlfriend and your relationship.

You'd discussed it with her, of course. It wasn't the end of the world if you didn't go but both of you knew you wanted to.

You desperately wanted to and Leah only wanted the best for you.

So she encouraged your choice. She told you how good it would be for you. She told you how much she wanted you to be happy.

So you accepted the offer and now found yourself deciding what to pack in your plane luggage, what to send in the mail and what to leave at home with Leah.

You'd graciously allowed her to keep the air fryer and the cheese grater but decided to take almost all of the pots and pans with you because it wasn't like Leah would be using them in your absence.

"I could get you a body pillow," You tease, cupping Leah's face in your hands and placing a teasing kiss against her lips," You can buy those customised pillow cases now. I'll slap a picture of myself on it, would that make you happy?"

She laughs into the next kiss and you grin against her lips.

"Only if you're looking super sexy on it."

"So your teammates can barge in and see it? I think not, Williamson."

"Maybe not super sexy," Leah agrees," Maybe just kind of sexy then. I can't have the team finding out how sexy you are and trying to steal you from me."

"Well, I'll be safe in Australia while you sort them out."

"Mhm, yeah," Leah says as she steals another kiss," You will be. I guess we can go for that super sexy pillow case after all."

She rolls onto her back, hands blindly grabbing and pulling until you're seated on her lap comfortably.

"Oh, yeah? Which one are you thinking?"

Leah's hand sneaks under your shirt as her fingers gently stroke your waist in soft circles.

"That one when we went to Ibiza," She whispers against your skin," Where you're on your back tanning. In that little bikini I like."

"You're going to get teased so much if the girls find out you're going to be sleeping with a body pillow of me," You laugh, barely any space between your lips.

"I can deal with it."

"Are you sure? No pouty calls to me about the girls teasing you?"

"Well," Leah says," That's a non negotiable. You're always getting called about when the girls tease me. I have to have someone defend my honour, right?"

"All the way from Australia? I don't know how much of a defence I can imagine."

"But you'll try, right? You won't leave me all alone?"

You laugh. "I can try. If it gets bad, I'll get the first flight back so I can do it in person. How does that sound?"

Leah grins against your lips as she kisses you. "I'll take that. I can't wait to tell Beth to stop being mean to me otherwise I'll have to pull my girlfriend out of her very busy job in Australia to scold her. She's never going to piss me off again."

[scamanderishredmayniac]

I was once called a curious writer, by someone who had read snippets of an original piece I was working on some many years ago. I had never heard of anyone saying that before at the time. It felt bizarre, I knew what it meant to be a curious reader, but not a curious writer. I’m not 100% sure, but I think it was because I was allowing readers to explore the character’s past story, exploring why they felt and behaved in a certain way. She said something about how she liked how I was building up character and giving back story. The reality was I knew these characters inside out, well sort of. They had history outside the story in my mind, and personality such that were not on the page. I imagined a whole set of people as though they were real in this strange town I had written about. I wanted the reader to explore these people, to see into the characters minds, and explore their world. I’ll admit I didn’t know everything about the town they were living in, and the only thing at the time I was exploring was the town and its history. The only thing I explored and was curious about in the characters, or at least 3 of them was their feelings for each other.

I hadn’t been in a relationship at the time, I hadn’t experienced falling in love and finding someone, and only added a sort of love storyline because a friend asked me too. So my curiosity as a writer was to explore that side of things. So maybe this reader saw that, I don’t know. I just got the gist that it meant something very good. I’m not even sure why I’m rambling like an idiot when i should be climbing into bed and going to sleep, especially when I said I wouldn’t come onto tumblr for a month. Oops! I just saw a friend had reblogged this, and it made me think of that comment left on my work. I don’t know why i had to share this ling rambly story, but I quite liked being called a curious writer. It’s been a long time since I got such a compliment that made me feel good about my writing.

Basically being a curious writer is apparently a good thing and makes one’s story interesting. And it should really be a widely spread piece of advice to potential writers to be curious of what you’re writing.

“Be curious about what you’re writing about” is not stock Common Writing Advice but it really, really should be. There are a lot of written works that fail due to the authors just being obviously incurious about what they are writing about.

[mommyslittlebird]

Prelude

Stepmama!Wanda x Reader

Summary: Things with your mother had never been good, but when you truly couldn’t take it anymore, you turned to the only place you had left.

Word Count: ~2k ish

CW: MOMMY ISSUES, leaving home, references to past/current abuse.

A/N: Please leave your comments and thoughts on this! I’m not really sure where I want to take this series yet, and I would love to hear what you all want to see!

Prelude to Mama

———————————————————

You weren’t exactly sure what would be the final straw in the relationship between you and your mother, but you had always imagined it’d be something big. You always thought there would be one final moment, when she did something crazy, like maybe she would make some threat on your life or chase you out of the house with a knife or set all of your things on fire.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

There were no threats, no shouting, no one even raised their voice. It was just like any other Thursday afternoon, really. You were going through the cupboard, looking for something to eat for dinner. As usual, they were largely empty aside from some dry pasta, some stale potato chips, some cereal that would require milk you didn’t have, and some various unlabelled cans. You grabbed the cereal. You could make something work. You always did.

Your mother came into the kitchen snacking on a bag of Blue Diamond almonds. She shook the bag and held it out to you. “Do you want some almonds?”

You froze briefly. You were allergic to nuts. “No thanks. I'm allergic, remember?”

She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “No you’re not. Since when are you allergic to almonds?”

Since second grade. You had eaten some at a birthday party and went into anaphylactic shock in a bouncy castle. You had to be taken to the hospital. You ruined the whole party. You cried everyday for the rest of the school year because no one wanted to talk to the weird kid who had to get a shot in her butt cheek at a birthday party. You never got invited to another one. How could she not remember?

You looked at her silently for a long while. This wasn’t worth fighting over. You couldn’t expect her to remember everything about you. But the longer you looked at her, the more it seemed like she might not know anything about you at all. She knew you as her daughter, of course. She knew you as a good student: quiet, reserved, always well-behaved. She knew you as someone smart enough to do taxes, handy enough to fix the broken things around the house, resourceful enough to make dinner even with an empty cupboard. But none of those things were really you, they were all things you did for her.

Did she even know that there was you outside of her?

You had given her the opportunity to. You’d given her many opportunities to. In a lot of ways, that made it worse. You had opened your heart to her only to be told she didn’t want to see it. And here she was, looking at you like she didn’t even know you had a heart to open.

You started to feel dizzy, nauseated by the woman standing in front of you. At first, you couldn’t possibly comprehend that you had come out of her. You seemed so separated that it was impossible that the two of you had ever been connected in any way. Then, it seemed the opposite, that you were never really separated at all. It was now as it had been before you even came into the world: you were a part of her on every level.

And the worst part was, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be angry with her.

Just as you were an extension of her, she was an extension of everything that had happened to her. You could see it swirling inside of her: a maelstrom of trauma, pain, and mental illness. She was just as much a victim as she was a perpetrator. She wasn’t a monster, she was just a sick woman who never got the help she needed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally answered.

She shrugged and walked away. You calmly set the cereal back in the cabinet, swallowing your hurt and trying to make it dinner. You leaned forward to rest your head on the cupboard. What were you doing here?

Clearly she didn’t care that you were here. So what was holding you in this house? Why were you choosing this life where nothing was ever clean, there was never any food, and only other person around was a woman who couldn’t even remember your nut allergy.

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you making it hard to breathe. You felt incredibly tiny, yet like you were still taking up too much space. You had to get out of here.

You didn’t even put shoes on before running out of the house, grabbing your keys and throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. You could hardly see the road through your tears. You were in no state to be driving at all, really, but, miraculously, you made it safely across town to the home your dad lived in with your stepmother, Wanda.

Your father, as usual, was away on a business trip. You didn’t know your stepmother that well, but she was a kind woman that you figured would be welcoming. It was your house as much as it was hers, after all. Anything was better than what you were running from.

Going to your father’s house on a week he wasn’t home wouldn’t have been your first choice. Then again, you weren’t exactly in a place to be picky. It was nearly midnight by this point and it was pouring rain. Your father’s guest room would at least have a warm, dry bed for you to sleep in, which was more than you would get anywhere else. You doubted you could even find a vacant hotel room at this hour, not that you had the money for that anyway.

Wanda opened the thin curtain in the dining room when she saw the bright headlights. The driveway was long and far from the road, so headlights were rare, especially this late at night. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw it was your car. The front door was open before you were even on the porch. You stumbled inside, soaked in cold rain and tears.

“Honey, what happened?” she gasped, running to grab a towel to dry you off. She grabbed a nice fluffy towel, scrubbing your hair dry. She wrapped it around your shoulders, trying to get your frail body to stop shaking. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing but a small squeak came out. You were crying so hard you had to hold onto the banister to stay upright. She wrapped an arm around your waist, bracing you against her own body.

She slung your arm around her shoulder, trying to help you up the stairs. “Shshsh, baby,” she cooed, cradling your head and kissing your temple. “Let’s get you wrapped up and warm. You're gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” She eventually got you up to the guest room, the room she had long considered to be yours anyway. She sat you down on the edge of the bed before turning to grab some spare clothes from the wardrobe. She placed them in a folded pile next to you and knelt down in front of you, placing herself on your level.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you,” she soothed, rubbing your knee gently. “Just take a few deep breaths for me. Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

“M-mom…” was the only word you could choke out.

She nodded in understanding. “Something happened with your mom?”

You nodded and blabbered, but she could see you were just getting frustrated with your inability to speak.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda reassured, trying to quell your rising frustration. “Did she hurt you?”

You shook your head. “N-no. It was… well it was stupid, really. She… well, I was hungry… and she gave me… al-almonds.”

“Almonds?” Wanda’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. She rolled up your sleeve and pushed two fingers into the skin of your wrist, as if she was checking whether or not you were alive in front of her. Her other hand went up to cradle the side of your head, pressing her thumb to your cheekbone. “You didn’t eat any, did you? Do you have your EpiPen with you? I have an extra in the closet. I can…”

“No,” you interrupted. “I didn’t eat any. I’m okay. I just… I can’t believe she forgot. I mean I guess I can’t expect her to remember everything about me, but… I don’t know… this felt important.”

“Honey,” she started, tone growing a bit harsher. She wasn’t upset with you, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her. “She could’ve killed you. That isn’t just something that slips your mind. That’s carelessness. A carelessness that could have cost you dearly. God she shouldn’t even be eating almonds in the same room as you! Agh!”

You jumped a little bit. She felt a twinge of guilt. The last thing you needed right now was someone to scare you even more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

“I know,” you sniffled. “I just… I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She just forgot…”

“My love,” she started, cradling your face again, “do you know what these sheets are made of?”

You shook your head.

“Cotton. And it’s washed with hypoallergenic laundry detergent. Because I know my baby has sensitive skin, and polyester and scented detergents make you itchy. And you don’t stay here very often, but when you do, you deserve a nice soft bed that doesn’t break you out,” she explained. “I know you may not think of me as your mama, and that’s okay. You don’t have to. But know that I’d sooner forget my own name than forget you take your coffee with two creams and a sugar. It comes to me as natural as breathing. Because that’s what mama’s do. They love. They care. And they never forget.”

“But… she’s… she’s sick,” you stammered. “Her head… she’s… she’s in so much pain Wanda.”

She squeezed your hand. “Her pain is not a crucifix, sweetheart. You don’t not need to martyr yourself on it. She’s hurting you.” She lifted your head, forcing you to look at her. Her voice was quiet, regretful, even. As if it pained her to admit she’d let you live with her for so long. The more you spoke the clearer it became that this problem ran much deeper than almonds. Bile rose in her throat as she imagined what you had been through, even just in the year she’d known you. She should’ve seen it sooner, but she would not let you suffer any longer. “Baby. Please.”

You wanted to argue back: tell her that it wasn’t that your mother was bad, she just had a harder time being gentle and loving. Her head didn’t always work right. That’s why she treated you the way she did: not because she didn’t love or care about you, but because she was sick and broken.

You wanted to tell her that you weren’t weary or afraid of your mother, just that sick part of her. It wasn’t her; it was different. But then you took a long look into Wanda’s eyes. You felt her hand, soft and warm against your face. And you weren’t weary. And you weren’t afraid. There was no monster rippling under the surface, no eggshells under your feet. There was just Wanda. Your mama.

You fell forward, off the bed and into her arms. She caught you, pulling you against her chest and cradling your head into her shoulder while you cried. She gently pet your wet hair, soothing you and rocking you in her arms. “I know, baby. I know,” she whispered, kissing right next to your ear. “You deserve so much better, my love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything she ever did and didn’t do. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I would’ve come, if I had known. I will always come for you, I swear. But you don’t have to live like that anymore. I’m gonna take care of you, angel. Mama’s got you.”

You grabbed her shirt, balling it up in your fists like you were afraid she’d fly away. She rocked you, adjusting to sit on the floor with you in her lap. She cried too, remorseful and guilty for every second she let you rot in that house. She cried for the evenings you had gone hungry, the nights she hadn’t cradled you in her arms, and every biting action that had made you believe you were anything less than a miracle. It would never happen again. She would never let it happen.

You felt so small and frail in her arms. What kind of person could hurt a little angel like you? She wanted to burn down the other half of the city just thinking about it. She would drain every ounce of blood from your mother’s miserable veins if I could replace even a drop she took from you.

She rubbed your back and kissed your head, cooing words of reassurance and praise until your sobs turned to sniffles.

“Mama…” you cried softly into her neck. Her heart nearly lept from her chest. That was her. She was your mama.

She smiled, looking down at you. She lifted your head to rub your nose against her’s. “That’s right, baby. I’m your mama, and I’m never gonna let you go.”

[dearru]

do u guys know that one song by doja cat that goes “like fortnite ima need ur skin.” that’s what inspired this. hope u enjoy. | mlist

imagine you, an aspiring singer, starting to date the wildly influential streamer, kodzuken. you two are the definition of a picture perfect couple, and you start to make lots of content together. as a result, your career begins to take off, and kenma’s content grows in popularity,

everything’s great— until it isn’t. the relationship ends up crashing and burning in an embarrassingly public breakup.

people are devastated. video essays are made. diehard fans even claim the split is the equivalent of “parents divorcing.”

it’s a whole ordeal.

but as time passes, the wounds heal. and in true internet fashion, it becomes old news. some people still whisper about how they believe you two are soulmates, but for the most part, kenma’s chat and your comment section don’t get flooded with invasive questions about whether you two will get back together anymore.

fast forward to two years or so after the breakup, you and kenma end up growing in your respective careers. his several business ventures have grown exponentially, and you’re now selling out stadiums.

kenma doesn’t stream as much as he used to when you two were together, but he chalks it up to having to juggle so many different commitments now. fans speculate as to whether or not that’s the true reason, but as a collective, they agree that they’ll take whatever content they can get from the elusive creator.

despite not streaming as frequently, kenma still likes to indulge his audience every once in a while by hopping online. normally, he likes to decide what to play, but every once in a while, he’ll let chat decide.

tonight is one of those nights.

on a whim, he gives in to requests for him to boot up fortnite— an old favorite of his— for the first time in months.

big mistake.

the second he opens the once beloved game, he gets jumpscared by something that even his worst nightmares couldn’t have fathomed.

you.

everywhere.

to his horror, and the chat’s delight, he finds that you’ve become the poster child for fortnite’s newest campaign. your face is on the menu screen, banners of you flash in bright colors, and you’re plastered everywhere in the item shop.

they say men are constantly haunted by the ghost of their first love, and in a cruel twist of fate, it’s a saying that has become ironically true for kenma as he realizes that epic games has made you into a fucking skin.

he debates the consequences of throwing his pc into a wall, but his screen flashes with an overly excitable chat faster than he can make a decision. old fans are freaking out, new gen fans are wondering what all the fuss is about, and someone donates just to type “YOU’RE FUCKED.”

kenma has half the mind to laugh as the notification illuminates his face because he knows the donor is right.

he’s not an idiot. he knows that you’re popular now, but to be so famous that you have your own skin? he’s in absolute disbelief. there’s no way the universe hates him this much. it’s bad enough that you’re on every headline and radio station. now you’re in his favorite video game?!?!

he is so unbelievably, irrevocably fucked.

—a/n: i think that kenma’s viewers are evil and they all band together and emote on kenma with ur skin whenever they see him online.

—a/n #2: has anyone written abt this concept before. pls lmk. i would love to read it bc i giggled so hard when the thought popped in my head HAHAHA.

—a/n #3: guys i don’t play fortnite, watch streamers, or write for kenma at all so pls don’t hate on me ok thx love u

[currentlysleepingus]

I'm bored

let's make damian and danny have a mortician and gomez type of love.

Let's let danny be a known sought-after goth who everyone knows has a broken regeneration ability but can't prove it because he lets himself scar and can control when and where he regenerates. He wears stelletos and other heals and has a variety of weapons on him. People think he's a vampire, and he normally hangs out at the cemetery and such. He's a nightingale in this au, and the nightingales are the Addams family. Damian is smitten. Danny and him are in high school, Gotham Academy, and danny gets into fights with him a lot. They spar past first blood drawn and damian respects that. Let's make it enemies to weirdly stalker friends to lovers. They both partake in this, damian gets people, maybe tim, to dig stuff up on him and danny asks the dead about him.

Anyway, fast forward to them flirting and trying to court each other. Let's just say Gotham is terrified and happy for damian to have finally met his match. Danny once, during a galla slides in and, with his heart pulled visibly out of his chest resting inside a bunch of flowers asks damian to take what's his( his hearts) damian obliges and takes the flowers ripping Danny's heart out. Danny then gets up, he's taller than damian, and takes off his bloody shirt and courset and changes in front of him and asks him to go to dinner with his family. Danny doesn't button the top buttons of his shirt, leaving his chest out with the now gaping hile that isn't bleeding outta and tightens his courset. He tells damian that the food has a tendency to come alive, so he's going to have to impale it and kill it to eat it. Before he gets an answer, he takes a quill out of his pocket and stabs his arm, and then takes damians other hand to write out the date and address. And then waves goodbye, and while he's walking towards the window to jump out, he tells him to bring a vial of his blood so he can wear it. He leaves, and damien looks back at Danny's heart, opens it, and pulls out a necklace that has a vial of Danny's blood on it. He's smitten turns toward his horrified family and very proud Jason and says he's going.

Danny and damian give each other the heads of their enemies and wear each other's stuff. What if Danny's wedding courting includes fighting the father of your lover if their taking your last name. Like it could be in anything way the father chooses. I'm just imagining damain telling danny that he's taking his last name and Danny's like bet but you have to beat up my 'dad'( in this case imma make it his guardian aka the eldest male Dan) and danny wants to fight batman so he proposes that he challenges his father and damians like as you wish whoever wins gets to keep their last name.

Phantoms still a criminal and their both aware of the others hero identity but hasn't said anything. Please I want them to flirt in the weirdest ways.

Would Tailia approve of him?

The batfam are VERY concerned and wary of Danny and damians' relationship. Jason feels like he's watching a dark romance novel come to life and is here for it.

Please, I want danny eventually telling damian about being half ghost, and he then goes on to ask all of Danny's ghost friends and mentors on how to properly care and court him. They are ecstatic to teach him.

Anger management can also be in here. They like that but in more subtle ways.

[starqualityreadings]

Who's still thinking about you ? PAC reading

pick the scene you feel called to

I appreciate any feedback & thanks for reading !

1

time and space

a person you want to talk to wants to talk to you too . there are a lot of unexpressed feelings here, it feels like two people who grew apart or had to move away from each other. there could have been a false start or things that prevented you from fully having a relationship or knowing each other. a lot of things feel like forced choices or circumstances.

they imagine you as doing very well. someone who works hard to surround themselves with the things they want in life. its almost like they don't want to bother you or disturb your peace.

they have an idealized version of you in their head. at one time you were the complete package to them or did things that were very in tune with what they wanted from a connection. you may have been more soft and nurturing than what they were normally used to.

they are definitely thinking about the times you had together and craving more. in some ways, you deeply satisfied them and no one has given them the same feeling since you. they wish you would visit them or that they could see you again.

this person thinks about reaching out to you often and looks at your social medias or checks on you in any way they can. however, they are hoping you reach out to them first.

2

give and take

there may have been a lot of arguments, a bad breakup or even a toxic relationship you recently moved on from. this person stopped meeting your standards or you saw that they were never actually capable of doing so. Maybe they were presenting themselves as better or doing things they couldn't maintain over time.

age difference or emotional immaturity that should have been corrected by their age is significant. they may be thinking they can improve themselves to win you back or have one up on you.

they may be dating someone new or claiming they've moved on but deep down they are still emotionally attached to you. this may be especially hard because they had a lot of hopes for this connection or you may have planned a lot of things for your futures together.

this person is still very much upset and possibly vindictive or petty towards you because of this. they are struggling with the idea of fully moving on and wondering if there is any way they can get your attention.

3

knowing your worth

you may have left this person or situation to protect your peace after you felt unappreciated or betrayed

this is someone who is depressed, has a lot of baggage, or is often sick. this person is likely older, could have a higher position, or just thought they were superior to you in some way

I wouldn't necessarily say regret, but this person does feel bad for how they treated you at certain times or how things ended between you

your absence made this person realize just how meaningful your presence is. they could have been a lot more grateful or gracious towards you

they have thought about reaching out but you already blocked them or they feel like you would not want to hear them out after everything

a lot of things were felt but never said here. they wish they would have listened to you more or taken what you weren't saying to them into consideration. if you were going through a harder time than they originally thought, they are more aware of that now.