#this stress is not good for the sparkling...

[sacred3ugene]

destress .ᐟ

SYNOPSIS ⋆ a long day in the studio left billie completely tired. thankfully, her girlfriend might be what she needs to destress.

CONTENT :: g!p billie , p in v , unprotected sex , breeding

Billie is sure this is the eighth time she's checked her watch in less than thirty minutes. Today had not been a very pleasant day for her, frustration was present from the moment she set foot in the studio. There were some technical problems that lengthened the day, amidst the chaos that was her head, you were the only thought that made everything more— bearable.

"Can we just leave?" Finneas looked at his sister in surprise. Billie was not one to insist on leaving a place that brought her peace, but today was different, apparently.

"What's wrong?" Finneas asked, curious and worried.

"Nothing is just... today wasn't a good day." She sighed, tiredness evident in her mannerism. She rubbed her hand along her face, stopping at the bridge of her nose and squeezing the tear duct from her eyes.

Finneas let out a deep sigh, sharing the same sentiment with her. "We'll be out of here soon." He rested his cheek on the palm of his hand, running his other hand through his hair, playing with a few strands before letting it fall to his side.

Lately, they've been having some problems with the programs they used, their projects were deleted and all they've been working on the past weeks was no gone. It was stressing, it was the main reason Billie was to tense, holding back the need of smashing her head against the wall.

The hours passed slowly, Billie found herself checking her watch frequently again, Finneas tried to fix the programs that would continue to show errors with the help of his team. Everything was going from bad to worse. At least Billie knew that when she got home, her girlfriend would be waiting for her.

"Bill, hey." Finneas spoke in a whisper, gently patting his sister's shoulder, who was half asleep in the office chair. "We'll finish this later, you can go home if you need it." He stood up from his own chair, giving her one last smile before leaving the studio with his team, determined to fix the technical error.

"Okay." Billie said slowly, still confused of her surroundings after waking up.

She grabbed her car keys, dragging her feet to the parking lot, thankful that at least she'd be home in a few minutes. She spotted her car and was quick to get inside. Once she turns the car on, the radio was turned off, mind too noisy to overstimulate it.

The way home was not very pleasant either, the traffic—although no worse than the day at the studio—had delayed her arrival home, fingers tapping the steering wheel leather cover with impatience, a snort abandoning her body.

The delicate jingle of keys catches your attention, the creak of the door confirming that Billie was home. You'd be lying if you said you didn't worry about her late arrival, but you quickly assumed that work was holding her back.

You were about to speak, but you noticed her tired, irritated face. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of you, though her long face didn't change. You decided to stay quiet, you knew better than to upset someone with a certain level of frustration.

"Today was shit!" Her voice was sharp as a sword, letting you know she wasn't in a good mood. "There were technical problems everywhere." She plopped down on the couch next to you, arms stretched out on the backrest.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" With a sweet voice you spoke, wanting to help and cheer her up.

You waited for any answer—except the one her eyes said. A mix of mischief and an unknown feeling that you couldn't decipher dancing around her orbs. You could see behind them, her mind processing unethical images that consisted of you, hair scattered on the pillow, beads of sweat running down your body, her cock going in and out of you in a rapid rhythm— I guess you have an idea of what I'm talking about.

"Billie..."

"What?" She feign ignorance, trying to sound innocent.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Oh, she was playing dumb. You knew if it wasn't you who was actually proposing it, she'd never admit it.

"Like you want to fuck me." Your breathing quickly became agitated after saying those words, building something inside you, thighs involuntarily squeezing together.

She couldn't help it, her eyes went flying directly to your crotch, a predatory shine wrapping her orbs, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. "Well—I had a rough day." She started. "Don't you think I should... destress?" As she talks, her hand slowly crawls up your leg, to your thigh and then stopping just when she was about to touch your sensitive spot. She was teasing you, she enjoyed it. Weird— but she already felt her muscles relaxing, she got off in the way you shudder at her touch.

It was a lot to process, you thought maybe a massage or watching a movie would do the trick, but no. She still looked at you with hunger, her eyes never leaving you, a burning eye contact that lit the flames inside you.

She wasn't going to make the first move, and her day had been shit, so nothing mattered anymore. You pounced on her, joining your lips in a passionate, slow, and calm kiss, wanting to remember the taste, the texture, and the feeling.

"I've been waiting for this." Billie spoke between kisses, biting your lower lip fiercely, her hands playing with the hem of your shirt, debating whether to wait or take you now and here, on the couch. "You're too sweet."

Her words turn you on more than expected, she tries to make an effort not to tear your shirt apart, but it is in vain since the sound of the fabric breaking reaches your ears. "Billie!" You scold her, softly hitting her arm.

"I'll buy you another one, don't worry." With that being said, she catched your lips once again. She takes her time with you, making you feel comfortable, placing herself over you and trapping your body against the couch and her chest, rising up and down heavily.

You can already feel yourself getting wetter, your panties now being adorned by a big stain, wetness dripping down your leg like tears. Your mind fogs up, your gaze blurs, you're lost in the touch of her hands, groping you so good. You can't complain, you crave this as much as she does.

She unbuckles her belt, taking you out of your trance. She pulls her pants down, the bulge in her boxers right in front of your face, mouth drooling for it. "You want it?" She cups her cock behind the clothes, a playful smirk adorning her face so pretty, eyes glistening with desire, the flames inside her increase and her body becomes warm.

It's a lot to take in but you let your body guide you, your hands slowly pushing her boxers down, her cock springing, slapping against her stomach, pre-cum shining on her reddish tip, veins popping and covering her length.

"So hard for me." You mutter, seeing how a light blush spreads across her face, biting her lower lip with intensity.

"Shut up." It's all she can say, slowly backing up, taking a time to admire you, laying on the couch, hair slightly messy and your body asking for more as it tries to lean closer to her.

Her hands grab the edge of your underwear, pulling it down in desperation, eyes glowing with excitement when she sees how wet you are for her. It trickles down your legs, which shake furiously, waiting for the moment Billie sinks between them.

She grabs her cock in her hand, aligning it with your entrance, your wetness covering the glans, sticky sounds filling the space between, heavy breathing and loud moans accompanied the symphony of erotic melodies.

Slowly, she buries her cock in you, sliding between your walls, which squeeze her cock in a divine way, high-pitched moans coming out of her mouth. "Fuck, baby." She groans, hips starting to swing back and forth, the sticky sound of your wetness against her thighs and stomach reveaing the beauty of your lovemaking, couch witness of the heat irradiating from your bodies.

You throw your head back, your neck exposed, your soft skin demanding for Billie's fangs to mark it. The world seemed to fall away with each passing minute, her hips changing rhythm, slow then fast, aggressive then gentle—she wanted to drive you crazy for her and she was succeeding.

"Soo tight f' me, ma." You feel her fingers curl and grip your waist hard enough to leave a trail of bruises in the morning. The obscene 'plap' that echoed off the walls was etched in your mind, your eyes closed, lust and pleasure absorbed you with force.

When her moans became more agitated and her body fell on you, the sweat of her body against yours, you knew she was close to her climax, her hands now on your thighs as he pushes you down, taking more of her cock, legs shaking over her shoulders, nails scratching her back, marks that would give away the act of sex.

"Mmgh—" A growl escapes his lips, thrusting forcefully into you, her tip reaching your cervix with ease. "I'm so close, ma."

Her breathing becomes erratic as do her thrusts, her cock twitching against your walls and the muscles on her body tensing as her orgasm floods her body, stripes of hot, white cum staining your insides, moans floating in the air as you she tries to ride down her orgasm, giggling at how your bodies shakes aggressively along with hers.

She takes a deep breath, looking straight into your eyes, knowing you still didn't get to cum. Her fingertips press against your clit, a gasp leaving your body as she rubs you the right way, slowly starting to pump inside you, cum dripping down your leg and into the couch.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, your legs dropping to squeeze her waist, locking as you push her closer to you, grabbing her shoulders trying to find steadiness.

"Wanna cum, princess?" You nod fiercely, pressing your lips together when you notice the fluid seeping between your legs, bringing you closer to your orgasm. "Cum for me, c'mon..."

She changes her peace, pumping faster into you, the mix of cum and wetness creating a band of vulgar sounds that fill the air and echoes around the room. As she goes faster you come closer and closer to your orgasm until it hits you like a truck, your hands squeezing her shoulders with strength, toes curling in pleasure as you ride it down.

"Fuck..." You breath, wiping some beads of sweat from your forehead, letting yourself relax and sink in the couch, Billie falling next to you, embracing you in a tender cuddle.

remember you can leave requests ( yes i'm running out of ideas )

[sapphicswph]

Perhaps I have a request 🫣 Imagine Misty drugged reader with the tea instead of Ben, and has a weird crush on her. Reader is dating Shauna (they are very much in love, and Shauna is well….Shauna…and does not play about her girlfriend). Would love to see how Shauna reacts and responds to that 💀

Bonus points if reader is more of a masc lesbian that the rest of the girls maybe have a crush on too. Peak jealous Shauna, Misty just takes it way too far.

pairing: shauna x reader

warnings: slight angst, intoxication (drugged), fluff, jealousy, explicit language, not proofread, mdni

the cabin was as cozy as they could make it, with a fireplace and a few blankets scattered around. the girls had made the best of their situation, gathering firewood and setting up a makeshift camp. shauna was sitting in the corner, sharpening a stick with her knife, her brow furrowed in concentration. misty was by the fireplace, brewing some tea on a small stove. you were curled up in one of the blankets, your hair messy and your clothes casual.

misty turned around with a cheerful smile, holding out a steaming mug towards you. "here you go! special tea I made just for you." her eyes sparkled with an unusual intensity as she pushed the mug insistently into your hands. shauna suddenly looked up from her knife sharpening task, brow furrowing deeper this time with a hint of suspicion crossing her face at misty's overly enthusiastic gesture towards her girlfriend.

misty had always been...off somehow when it came to you. she'd linger a little too long during team huddles, her hand brushing your shoulder more than necessary. but since the plane crash, misty's behavior has been increasingly strange. she's always been a bit of an oddball, but now her actions are downright unsettling. she's taken to following you around like a shadow, finding excuses to touch your arm or brush against you when passing by. her compliments have grown more frequent, despite knowing about your relationship with shauna.

"here you go!" misty exclaimed again, her smile widening as she practically shoved the mug into your hands. you took it hesitantly. "it's got all sorts of good stuff in it," misty said, her voice rising an octave. "herbs and...other things." she paused, glancing over at shauna who was now watching the interaction with a guarded expression. "go on, drink up!"

you hesitated, looking between misty's eager face and shauna's stern one. something about this whole situation felt...off. misty was being too nice, too insistent. and why was she staring at you like that? you brought the mug to your lips, taking a sip to be polite. "no, no," misty said suddenly, reaching out to grab your wrist. "drink the whole thing. it's good for you."

shauna suddenly stood up, she walked over with purposeful strides, her hand reaching out to gently but firmly take the mug from your hands. misty's cheerful facade dropped instantly, replaced by a flash of anger and disappointment. "shauna—" she started protestingly. but shauna cut her off with a cold glare that silenced misty mid-sentence. "what did you put in this tea?"

misty's smile returned, but it was forced now. "nothing!" she said quickly. "just... herbs. to help with stress and anxiety." shauna's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she brought the mug to her nose, sniffing it deeply. her expression darkened. "she don’t need anything from you," she stated flatly, her voice turning dangerously low.

"shauna, you're being ridiculous," misty laughed, her patience wearing thin. "it's just tea! what's your problem?" shauna turned back to face misty fully, her stance aggressive. "my problem is that you're always trying to get too close to her. you know she's mine." misty's eyes flashed with jealousy, her lip twitching as her smile faltered.

"she's your girlfriend, not your property," misty snapped back, her voice rising. "and she's lonely out here. she needs someone to talk to, to comfort her. someone who understands her." shauna's face contorted with anger. "she doesn't need you and she’s sure as hell not lonely” she growled. "she has me, she needs me." you watched the scene unfold with growing discomfort. shauna has always been protective, but there was something different about her - something raw and territorial that made your heart flutter nervously.

"she needs someone who actually cares about her," misty retorted bitterly. "all you do is fuck her and ignore her the rest of the time. you don't even talk to her." ouch. that stung. you flinched internally, knowing that misty wasn't entirely wrong. sure, you guys loved each other deeply, but communication wasn't always shauna’s strongest suit. especially since the plane crash, things had been tense and distant between you and shauna.

"watch your fucking mouth," shauna snapped, stepping closer to misty, her voice dangerously low. "you think you know shit? where were you when she was terrified on that fucking plane? where were you when she was cold last night and she curled up in my arms for comfort? just because i don't fucking wear my heart on my sleeve-" she took one more step forward, face to face with misty now, "-doesn't mean i don't love her."

as the argument escalated, you felt the tea starting to take effect. your vision began to blur slightly, and your thoughts grew fuzzy. you struggled to focus on the heated exchange between shauna and misty. you felt a warmth spreading through your body, and suddenly everything seemed more intense, more vivid. the colors around you seemed brighter, the sounds louder. you felt...strange. very strange. "shit," you muttered under your breath, "shauna..."

shauna's head snapped towards you at the sound of your voice, her argument with misty instantly forgotten. she rushed over, her hands reaching out to your shoulders. "baby?" she asked urgently, her voice filled with concern as she noticed the glazed look in your eyes. misty watched this exchange with a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"what's wrong? are you feeling okay?" shauna asked, her hands moving to frame your face as she knelt down in front of you. misty moved closer behind shauna unnoticed by both of you two being so focused on each other right now - she watched as shauna cared for you intently. shauna's thumbs brushed over your cheeks softly as she searched your face for clues about what's happening, she knew misty did something.

as misty tried to move closer, shauna suddenly became aware of her presence behind her. shauna's arm shot back, pushing misty firmly away. "don’t," she growled lowly, her voice laced with warning. misty stumbled back slightly, caught off guard by shauna's sudden movement and the cold tone in her voice. shauna refocused all her attention back on you, her touch gentle as she caressed your face, "ignore her, just look at me."

the other girls in the cabin had stopped their activities, turning to watch the tense scene unfold. whispers and murmurs filled the air as they exchanged worried glances. shauna didn't pay them any mind; her entire focus was on you. she gently cupped your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks. misty stood back, her expression a mix of frustration and longing as she watched shauna tend to you with such care.

"hey, hey," she whispered softly, her voice gentle and soothing. "look at me, baby. focus on my voice, okay?" she continued, her thumbs continuing their gentle caress. you felt the warmth of her hands and the comfort of her voice slowly cutting through the fog in your mind. you blinked slowly, your gaze locking onto hers. "that's it," she murmured, smiling slightly.

a few hours had passed, and the cabin was filled with the sounds of the other girls going about their day - some playing card games, others cleaning up, and a few quietly talking among themselves. you were still sitting on the blankets, shauna's arms wrapped protectively around you as she held you close. the effects of the shrooms had faded, but not completely - your perception was still a bit off, colors a little too bright, sounds a little too loud. shauna's anger, on the other hand, hasn’t faded at all.

she sat with you on the floor, her chin resting on top of your head as she held you tightly. her expression stormy as she glared at misty across the room who was pretending to be busy with something else, her eyes filled with rage that she was trying hard to keep under control for your sake. misty would ever so often glance up, only to find shauna’s eyes boring into hers, filled with rage that made her increasingly uncomfortable.

the tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. the other girls noticed it too, casting uneasy glances between the two. misty tried her best to ignore the piercing gaze, focusing on her task at hand, but every time she looked up, she was met with the same intense stare, the same quiet, simmering anger. it was unnerving. terrifying even. she had never seen shauna this angry before. and she knew it was because of how protective she was over you.

didn’t really know how to end this lmao 🙈

[wilfre-the-medical-bot]

Oh, Primus...

I can't find Hummer...

I can't find him anywhere...

Where did he go...

He was here not too long ago, and now...

It's like he's...

Vanished...

He isn't responding to his comms either...

Hummer, where are you?

Where are you?

Whereareyouwhereareyouwhereareyouwhereareyou-

Agh- Ohh... F-Frag- Hnnnn-

N-Not right now, little one... P-Please...

[scho17]

In some fucked up way it was kinda funny. 

Guy on the run goes to Bludhaven to keep a low profile and catches the attention of a vigilante. The universe is laughing at him, surely. 

Everything was fine up until a month ago. Really, it was. Danny had obtained his own shitty apartment and yeah, maybe his dead end job made him want to eat dirt more than usual but everything was fine. There weren’t any eyes on him and now there were. A certain bird didn’t know how to leave him alone.

“Can I help you, Nightwing?” Danny says in a flat tone, leaning his forearms against the rails of the fire escape. He isn’t a cigarette type of guy but if ever there were a time this would be it.

“Mhum. I want names, same as always.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “We both know I can’t tell you anything.”

“But you could.”

“I could,” Danny acquiesced with a shallow nod. “And then what? When they can’t get to me, they’ll get to you.” He sighs, feeling infintely tired “in any case, the big bad bat isn’t known for leaving things he doesn’t understand alone, and I’m not really looking to be a lab rat again. Zero out of ten do not recommend. Turns out being vivisected fucking hurts, man.”

“Why won’t you let me take them out for you? Besides, I’m not weak. I can hold my own just fine.”

And thats the million dollar question, isn’t it? Dannys gaze fixes upon the ill looking moon, pallor as he peers through the smog of the dingy city and into the sky. “Because he told me to wait.”

“Who?”

Clockwork. 

Clockwork told him to wait. To do the one thing he hates more than anything in the world. To do the unforgivable - to sit idle when they had Ellie. As much as he’d love to spit venom and recite every reason why the GIW needed to be taken care of much sooner rather than whenever Clockwork had in mind, he can’t. He’s - and Ancients, he’ll never forgive himself - scared. He’s scared.

Logistically, he knows he’s strong. Stronger than anyone in any of those facilities compounded. Stronger than Vlad in terms of raw power if not in wiles, he’s stronger than Pariah Dark. Danny has tested his mettle against the worst of the worst and came out on top but he’s still fucking scared. Isn’t that something? Crown prince of the Infinite Realms is scared. 

There’s no one to magically make it better. No one to lean on because he’s the strongest, he’s it. And if the strongest can’t stand up because they’re too busy having a panic attack at the sight of a lab coat then really, what use are they?

“I can’t tell you that.” He glances down to the alleyway below them. It’s filthy. Wet newspaper plastered to the pavement, old gum cemented in place like spots on a dalmatian. It looks a lot like how Danny feels most days.

Nightwing frowns. “I can help you,” he says. It sounds painfully earnest, like he believes he really, really, could. 

“That's a nice offer, Nightwing, but I can’t take it yet.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

There he is. That’s the boy the bat raised. “Can’t.”

*

The next time Dick sees Danny it isn’t in Bludhaven. 

It’s months later in her sister city, Gotham. Crime Alley, to be specific. It was during the tail end of a joint patrol with the newly minted Robin, Tim, whom he had sent back to the cave early. His eyes snagged on the figure of a young man carrying a child in the middle of the wet season, a thin thoroughly soaked through navy blue sweater clinging to him like a second skin. It was pouring down like the heavens didn’t know how to stop grieving. 

It seemed as anguished as Dick was in the immediate absence of Jason. He blinks tiredly and washes the thought away. There’s a little girl cradled in Danny’s arms with hair just as pitch black as his own, burrowing her small face in his neck, tiny arms clinging as the man himself runs his hand soothingly on her back, murmuring apologies into her hair. “I know, I know, I’m sorry Ellie, I’m sorry. It’s okay, it's- We’re out. We’re okay.”

It’s a painfully private moment, one that he feels guilty for witnessing. The girl - Ellie, sobs into Danny’s chest. It isn’t his place to watch, to witness this. All the same, he wishes he could comfort them somehow. 

[wilfre-the-medical-bot]

Guys...

I have a bad feeling about this scenario...

Hummer himself isn't responding...

And... Who even is this... Glitchvoid...?

Oh, Primus...

What do I do...?

Hmm...

My- My Datapad has b-been acting up-

S-Sort of- Like- I-I don't know-

Gl!tch!n'-?

What- Who- What was that-?

............

Huh...

Anyways-

I-I don't-

It makes it- D-Difficult to- To do m-my work- Somedays-

0h, Humm3r. Ya n33d t0 tak3 a ch!ll p!ll.

W-What- Who- Who are you-!? How-

Calm d0wn, y0ung$t3r. Y3r fr4ak!ng 0ut 0v3r n0th!n'.

!t'$ m3, y3r n3w fr!3nd.

Gl!tchv0!d.

! c0uld u$3 y3r h3lp w!th s0m3th!n'.

H-Huh? I-I...

I don't even- Know you...

Y0u

Hav3

N0

Ch0!c3.

[jellyjamheadobb]

Not this being me at a local grocery store earlier :D

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

SiirrrrRE

MILES AXELROD GET THE FFFUCK

OUT OF MY WORKPLACE GARAGAGE MOTHERFUCKGIJTBT GOD DAMMITTT!!!!!! AWEERRHAAAAAAAAAAHAHGYG

All it cost me was my glasses and the massive grime and grease stain across my forehead now. I swear I'm not beyond-fucked insane when I say that the damn oil smelt like brown sugar what was that. Think that was the messiest I ever got fixing a car cause magically I did not care about anything anymore.

I uh. Hit the tag limit but I'm sure this will still pop up if I search his name in my blog search feature.

[thedorfmirrin]

Pixel Twinkle

[mythtiide]

i need 2 stop changing my layout around so much but i cant stop …. its too fun

[honey-dont]

the last half of ‘23 sucked so bad and i don’t have high hopes for ‘24 but at least it’s a fresh start

[keeps-ache]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ\(•-•)/･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

[bsecco]

my parents would have hated it for me but I love being an unambitious homebody. ever since moving out i've learned so much about cleaning and cooking that I genuinely did Not care about lol. How was I going like 8 months without vacuuming. Who even was that person

[glitter-in-the-grillcheese]

idk. these photos seem AI-generated. the bottom-left image has three faucet handles instead of two each for Hot and Cold water. and the top-left image has confusing faucet and handle physics & shapes.

㋡🥀

[the-shedevil-writes]

Polaroids (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Bob keeps your relationship private, but he doesn't try to hide the dozens of Polaroids of you all over his locker and truck. He has a daily routine of taping his favorite Polaroid of you to his jet's console, but when it goes missing, things get chaotic. Luckily, you're there to make everything better. WORD COUNT: 2.3k WARNINGS: Bob gets angry in this one, folks. Cussing. Fighting. Hangman's an asshole- sorry. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3

Bob didn’t like talking about his relationship. It’s not that he wasn’t proud of her, or that he felt ashamed. But in fact, the opposite. He’d seen these animals, he’d call co-workers, and how they’d treat girls. Granted, the squadron he was with now wasn’t so bad. Rooster, Hangman, and Fanboy were hard flirts, but they had basic decency. He never felt embarrassed by their behavior when they went out to the bars, and they’d try and pick up a girl. If they were successful, they celebrated. If they weren’t, they’d walk away and move on. 

But it was his past experiences with other pilots. Locker room talk always rubbed him the wrong way. He did his best not to judge these guys. He had those thoughts, too, but he had heard too many dehumanizing things said about women he knew and didn’t. So he preferred to keep his gorgeous girlfriend, Y/n, under wraps, even if he did trust his current friends.

They preferred to keep their lives separate anyway. With Bob having his work and friend group, and Y/n having hers. It kept their conversations interesting, as they had their own lives to discuss, not just their shared one. 

The Dagger Squad, of course, would try and pry any information out of him. All they knew was that he had a girlfriend. Half the time, they’d forget what her name was because they had never met her, and Bob preferred not to talk about her, for fear they’d ask to see her. 

He was surprised they didn’t notice the Polaroids. Taking pictures of his girl was his favorite thing to do besides flying. He wasn’t exactly a photographer. But he made good use out of the instant Polaroid camera she got him for Christmas. It was so much better than taking pictures on his phone because he could hold the memory in his hand. The light and the moment were captured and printed instantly just for him. 

They were stuck everywhere. Photos over the years were plastered all over the inside of his locker. In his phone case was a picture of her wearing his glasses. And in the fold-out mirror of his truck was a photo of her taken off guard in the kitchen that she hated, but he loved. The one of her kissing his cheek was usually tucked in the front pocket of his flight suit. They all served as reminders of what he had waiting for him once his shift was over. His best friend and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. 

His favorite was the photo he taped to his control panel every day. It was a little beat up, naturally, but he made sure to keep that one in the best condition it could be. It was his good luck charm- the first Polaroid he had ever taken of her. It was Christmas morning, and she sat next to the lit tree, in his old Lemoore High School shirt that she had stolen for herself. She hugged the frankly huge teddy bear that he had gotten her. While the lights on the tree sparkled in the photo and cast a golden glow on her smiling face. For some reason, when he had it, the missions went better. The days went by more easily when he got to see his girl’s face after a stressful hiccup in flight. 

It had been a long and grueling day flying under the sweltering sun. They had been training for a strike mission, and the dogfighting exercises had left him drenched in sweat, and owing Maverick 200 push-ups. Thanks, Payback, for the BRILLIANT idea. And thanks, Hangman, for doing what he did best- leaving him in the dust and pushing his buttons. 

After an almost embarrassing amount of time, he walked back to the locker room with biceps so sore they screamed. He unzipped his flight suit and took his glasses off, using the white shirt underneath to clean the fog and sweat off them. He couldn’t wait to go home and find his girlfriend in her study, working. And he especially couldn’t wait to bug and distract her from all of it. 

That’s when the sense of dread hit him, and he realized. He quickly checked all his pockets. Yes, the one of her kissing his cheek was there. But his lucky charm wasn’t in any of the other pockets. He rushed to climb out of his flight suit and scrambled to throw on a random shirt and shorts from his duffel. He couldn’t leave it in the jet. Who knew what maintenance would do if they found it? They’d probably just throw it away. 

Throwing on his backpack, he sprinted back down to the hangar. He didn’t even notice the whole squadron standing around talking. He didn’t care. All he wanted was his favorite picture and for this horrible day to be over with. 

The sunset shone on his forehead, exacerbating the glistening stress sweat. He quickly climbed the ladder onto the Super Hornet and looked inside the backseat interior. The only place it could be. And when he looked at the spot between the radar and the comms control, he put his face in his hands. It wasn’t there. The memory of the Christmas lights and the bear was missing. 

“Fuck.” He said to himself. It was hard to get Bob to curse, but this felt like an appropriate occasion.

Then Hangman’s voice rang out behind him. 

“Hey Baby on Board! You sure this isn’t a picture you found on Google?” 

Bob’s head whipped back to find Jake Seresin holding the photo. On one hand, he was just grateful that someone had found it. On the other hand, out of all the pilots, he wished so deeply that it wasn’t Hangman. 

He quickly climbed down the ladder. “Give me it back, please.” He said exasperated, and walked towards him.

Jake held the photo up so that Bob couldn’t get it. Neither of them was short, but Hangman was just slightly taller. 

“I’m not kidding.” He said, trying his best to keep his cool. It took a lot to make Bob angry. He was typically level-headed and able to logically think things through. That’s why he was a WSO Top Gun Graduate, and not necessarily a pilot. But right then, his whole day had been building up inside him, and this was the one thing he didn’t mess around with. 

“I just can’t believe that a babe like this is with a guy like you. Really, you should let me call her up.” He said teasingly with a smile. After leaving Bob and Phoenix stranded, AND doing this, Bob was at the end of his rope.

“Hangman, just give him back the photo,” Phoenix voiced with her arms crossed. She and Rooster watched the whole interaction, which just made him feel worse. This was humiliating. It was like they were boys in a school yard- which Bob would say was an apt description of most of the people he had worked with in the past.

He reached up for the photo and finally got a grip on it, but Hangman didn’t let go. 

“I just think it’s funny! I wanna look at it. I think there’s more in his locker, too.”

“Just let go, Hangman.” His voice was less whiny and more serious now. 

“No!” He grinned.

The two tussled and grabbed at the photo. It felt like a moment that was way too long. Until eventually they each pulled in a different direction, twisting it. It completely bent. Thankfully, it couldn’t rip because of the type of film, but the photo itself was fairly distorted. Bob’s heart beat out of his chest, and it was like his stomach twisted the same way the photo did. 

He suddenly let go of the photo and pushed Hangman so hard he stumbled back, surprised. The photo slapped onto the pavement. 

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE,” Bob said, following after him, ready to beat the shit out of him. Even though at first glance, most people would believe that Hangman would win in a fight between the two. It didn’t quite look it at the moment with the anger in Bob’s eyes and his arms pumped from the earlier push-ups.

Rooster quickly ran over and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back. “HEY HEY HEY!” 

Phoenix ran over and did the opposite, pushing her hand against Hangman’s chest, though he didn’t try to move forward. He knew he was in the wrong here, and it was clear by his guilty expression.

“Bob, man, calm down,” Rooster said. They all looked at him, surprised. Timid, awkward Bob was… kinda scary when he was pissed off. His glasses slightly crooked and red in the face. Maybe it was just strange to see him so out of control.

He slowly pushed Rooster off of him and walked over, grabbing the crumpled photo on the ground. After a failed attempt at straightening it out, he put it in his pocket and walked off, steaming. 

That night, when he got home, he slammed the door. He was never the type to do that, but he felt so defeated. His duffel bag dropped to the floor uncaringly. 

“Bob? Is that you?” Y/n called out from the study.

He sighed, a little relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” He said, his voice almost completely flat. That wasn’t normal. He’d usually meet her in the study, but at the sounds of distress, she quickly came out.

She walked out to find him hanging up his sweatshirt with a depressed look on his face. His usual smile was replaced by a small, tense frown, and his shoulders were high and stiff. Something was very wrong.

“Oh, baby.” She said, walking over, “What’s wrong?” Her voice was so gentle.

He sighed and quickly wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I need to shower,” He said, not having gotten the chance to on base. But he still squeezed her, needing the support dearly. 

She shook her head against his chest. “What happened?” She knew he was trying to avoid it. 

He stepped back and pulled the bent photo out of his pocket. “Hangman happened.”

She gasped at the sight of it in his hand. “Oh no… Is this a man or a dog we’re talking about here?” She asked confused, and that made him laugh a little. He was already so grateful to be home. 

“Man. Though he definitely acts like a dog.” He groaned.

She gently took the photo from his hands. “I can try and fix it. Straighten it out. There might be a crease still in it, though.” She tried her best to flatten it out like he did, but to no avail.

He shook his head. “You can try, but I doubt it’ll be okay.”

That answer was so depressing, she looked up and tilted her head. “Hey, we’ll get it back to normal. I’ll look it up. How about you go shower and eat? I made pasta cause I was too lazy to be a real chef tonight.” She tried to lighten the air. “Then you can tell me all about your day.” 

He sighed in relief. “You’re too good to me.” He said softly, pulling her in for a much-needed kiss.

And that’s exactly how they ended up sprawled on the couch, each with bowls of penne and vodka sauce. On the coffee table, the photo lay on a piece of wax paper and was buried under some thick fighter jet manuals Bob had. 

“It was just like the whole day had been building up in me. Payback’s bet. Hangman leaving me and Phoenix dead in the water. The two hundred push-ups. And the photo going missing in the first place drove me crazy. So when he bent it, I just… exploded a little.” He admitted, almost ashamed to have lost control.

She sighed. “That’s okay. It was natural after all of that.” She reassured gently, reaching for his calf and squeezing it. “This Hangman guy sounds like a real douche.”

“Understatement.” He said, but he was feeling better talking through it all with her. “I just hope that the photo is okay. You know it’s my good luck charm, and if it’s not flat, it won’t stick to my console very well.” 

A small smile appeared on her face. “It’s under some of the thickest books I’ve ever seen. If it’s not flattened, then that’s just defying gravity.” She said. 

He exhaled again, relaxing, and it was like the tension in him completely dissipated. “You’re right.” He said gently. 

“Hey, maybe after today he’ll leave you alone.” She suggested.

He scoffed, “Hangman? I give him less than a week before he starts using you against me.” 

She chuckled and set her bowl down so she could lie down against him. “Hmmmm, gotta get you enrolled in anger management classes then.” She teased.

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re funny.” He said sarcastically.

The next morning, he woke up at the crack of dawn per usual. He slowly slipped out of his girlfriend’s grasp, and she whined, half asleep. Their typical routine. He gently leaned down, ran his hand over her hair, and kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep.” He whispered, and she subconsciously did so.

He got ready in his khaki uniform and walked out to the living room. On the table were the stacks of manuals. He very carefully took them off one by one and set them on the couch to soften the noise. Checking on the Polaroid, he sighed in relief as it was flat again. A small crease was across the middle, but at the very least, it was flat. He turned it around and saw something new. On the plain white back of the photo was a lipstick kiss mark over the folded line. In the tiniest pen was ‘A kiss to make it better’. 

And the biggest smile grew on his face. This was better than he could’ve asked for. 

Now he didn’t just have a good luck charm, but also a kiss to remember her by. 

[matt-murdockk]

Statistically Speaking

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

words: 600 words

summary: Spencer thought he was in a long-term relationship— turns out, he forgot to tell her.

warnings: none, babe. this is pure fluff <3

“Come on, man,” Derek said, arms folded as he stared Spencer down across the break room table. “You can’t just read a thousand relationship books and think that’s the same as the real thing.”

Spencer looked up from the folder in his lap, utterly unbothered. “Thirty-nine books. And they’re peer-reviewed studies. It’s not about anecdotes, it’s about data.”

Penelope leaned over her coffee, eyes sparkling. “Oh boy. He’s going full empirical. This should be good.”

“It’s not that I think I understand relationships,” Spencer continued, adjusting his glasses. “It’s just that I recognize functional dynamics when I see them. And I happen to know what one looks like.”

Derek snorted. “Yeah? Like what, The Notebook?”

“No,” Spencer said. “Like me and Y/N.”

There was a beat of silence.

Y/N, seated two chairs down with a half-drunk coffee in her hand, turned very slowly. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Spencer blinked at her like she’d asked if water was wet. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘you and me’?”

He frowned, confused. “I mean us. Our dynamic. It’s a prime example of a healthy relationship.”

Garcia dropped her muffin.

Derek leaned in like he was about to watch a car crash in slow motion. “Go on.”

Spencer tilted his head at Y/N. “You seriously didn’t know?”

She blinked. “Know what exactly?”

“That we’re in a relationship. Or— at least something adjacent to one. I assumed we were both aware of that.”

Y/N stared at him.

Spencer, sensing the disbelief, leaned back in his chair and began to list things off like he was briefing a case. “We text every night before bed. You bring me coffee the way I like it— three sugars, not stirred— almost every day, without asking. I’ve picked you up from the airport twice. You’ve stayed over at my apartment more than once, and you steal my hoodies.”

“That’s just…” She trailed off, looking helplessly at Garcia, who was frozen mid-bite.

Spencer wasn’t done.

“We hold hands when we walk across busy streets. You braid my hair when I’m stressed. I read you poetry once and you cried, which I took as a positive emotional response and not distress.”

Y/N slowly set her coffee down. “Okay.”

“I’ve memorized your Chipotle order,” Spencer added, like that sealed it.

“Okay.”

Spencer leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “We literally hold hands all the time.”

“…Okay, yeah, I see where I went wrong.”

Derek lost it.

Garcia was fanning herself with a napkin, whispering “my stars” under her breath.

Y/N looked like she was debating the moral and logistical weight of throwing herself into the nearest garbage can.

Spencer, meanwhile, just looked vaguely betrayed. “How did you not know?”

She gave him a look. “Because you never said it out loud?”

“I thought it was implied!”

Derek clapped once, loud. “Oh, I live for this.”

Garcia blinked. “Cool, so I’ve been third-wheeling a relationship that wasn’t even technically happening. Love that for me.”

Y/N turned back to Spencer, who was still trying to solve the mystery of how she missed this.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

“No,” he said, after a beat. “Just… surprised. I really thought we were on the same page.”

“Well.” She exhaled, slow and a little amused. “We are now.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

Y/N shrugged. “Statistically speaking?”

That got the smallest smile out of him.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

a/n: first spencer fic can i get a whoop whoop (i hope this is good, oh god)

[rosemaryhoney27]

Operation: Gaslight the Billionaires”

aka: How Danny Phantom Accidentally Became the Perfect Wayne

The chaos of the Batcave had mostly settled. Danny had been with them for three days, and Vlad Masters was officially on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

It wasn’t the ghost attacks. It wasn’t even the rogue AI that tried to merge with the espresso machine (thanks, Tim). It was the fact that Danny was actively making him look insane.

Bruce entered the kitchen expecting the usual post-patrol disaster: someone bleeding, Jason frying something suspicious, Damian glaring at vegetables like they insulted his honor, and Tim unconscious on the table with a Red Bull IV.

Instead… the kitchen was sparkling.

Alfred was humming. HUMMING. And Danny?

Danny was wearing an apron that said “I cook with spirit (and some ectoplasm)” and was gently stirring a pot of something that smelled incredible. He handed Alfred a tray of prepped vegetables with the air of a beloved sous-chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant.

“Knife is clean and set aside, Mr. Pennyworth. Do you want the counter disinfected again before the meat’s on?”

Alfred smiled. Smiled. “That won’t be necessary, Master Daniel. You’ve done splendidly.”

Bruce stood in the doorway like a man waiting for a piano to fall on him. “…Who is this child?”

Alfred replied calmly, “The most helpful young man we’ve had in this kitchen in years. I daresay Master Richard could learn a thing or two.”

Danny looked up, beamed at Bruce, and said, “Good morning! You want coffee? I just finished a batch of Colombian roast. Tim said you like it strong enough to dissolve crime.”

Tim, from under the counter where he’d been sleeping with a tablet as a pillow: “That’s not even a joke. I’ve seen it eat through one of Damian’s throwing knives.”

Bruce walked over and took the mug Danny handed him. It was the perfect temperature. The exact strength he liked. He took a sip.

His soul briefly ascended.

“…This is better than Alfred’s.”

Alfred gave an approving nod. “Indeed. I showed him once.”

Vlad stormed into the room like a man preparing to perform an exorcism. His hair was frazzled, one of his slippers was missing, and there was what looked suspiciously like slime on his sleeve.

“BRUCE. Tell me honestly, what have you done to him?”

Bruce blinked. “To Danny? Nothing.”

“HE MADE A THREE-COURSE MEAL AND ASKED IF I WANTED A MIDNIGHT TEA.”

“I like being helpful,” Danny said, halo practically visible. “Uncle Vlad gets stressed so easily.”

“I DO NOT—!”

“He also helped Damian organize the armory,” Alfred added serenely.

“Color-coded the blades,” Damian muttered, glaring slightly less than usual. “And sharpened them.”

Jason walked in, paused, sniffed the air. “Is that real garlic bread? Did we finally break the food curse?”

Danny handed him a plate. “You should eat. You looked hangry yesterday.”

Jason stared at him. “I could kill for you.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Nice. Boundaries.”

Vlad was gaping. “You are all being tricked! This is an act! He’s a little gremlin with teeth! He ate my briefcase!”

Danny blinked innocently. “It smelled like almonds. I thought it was marzipan.”

“IT WAS NOT MARZIPAN.”

Cass wandered in, stole a breadstick, and gave Danny a high-five. “Nice work.”

Vlad turned to Bruce, furious and hollow-eyed. “This is not fair. He fought a space god last week, and now he’s making quiche.”

Bruce just shrugged. “Some people contain multitudes.”

“He bit a vampire diplomat in Prague.”

“He was undead and had no permit for summoning circles,” Danny added cheerfully. “Also, he was rude to the hotel staff.”

Stephanie peeked in. “Did I hear someone say quiche?”

“Spinach and mushroom,” Danny called.

“I’m going to implode,” Vlad whispered to the heavens.

Danny wiped his hands and turned to Vlad with a kind, innocent smile. “Uncle Vlad, I know it’s hard to accept, but maybe… I’ve matured?”

Vlad squinted. “You turned your teacher’s car invisible three weeks ago.”

“She parked in the ghost zone exit lane,” Danny said, wounded. “I was helping traffic.”

Bruce sipped his coffee and studied the boy who had seamlessly infiltrated his house like a social trojan horse. “How did you convince him to stay with you again?”

“I blackmailed the adoption agency and offered full scholarship access, six haunted properties, and a personal lab,” Vlad muttered.

“Reasonable,” Tim said. “Sounds like a good pitch.”

Bruce looked at Danny. “Would you like to stay a bit longer?”

Vlad: “No.”

Danny: “Sure!”

Jason: “New little brother unlocked.”

Vlad looked down into his empty tea mug like it had betrayed him. “This is how I die. In a Wayne manor. Smothered by domestic competency and passive-aggressive hospitality.”

Danny patted his arm. “It’s okay, Uncle Vlad. Want me to make you some chamomile?”

Vlad hissed like a vampire at dawn.