#i'm a bit worried bc i can't fall back on like

[shirayuricky]

(oh you sound so busy 😓 and a month is so close omg may uni be take it easy with you, fighting!! i'll look foward to it then I'm sure it will be so good 🥹)

fluff but hard thoughts (???)

this one is REALLY long .. i'm sorry !!

well, it's so embarrassing and a bit weird / cringey actually but i thought about it out of sudden and can't get it off my head pls help (pleasee ignore this if u don't like it im so embarrassed so i apologize if u think it's too weird 😅

rlly ah why i thought abt it 🫠

this is abt gunwookie btw i love him smmm

for reference i wanted to add those pictures of him wearing that snorlax onesie but i don't know why i can't add images here

reader lives alone on her apartment so she's always spending her free time doing the things that makes her happy. she rlly enjoys having these self-healing times but still feels kinda lonely sometimes, that's when she ends up falling asleep cuddling her GIANT teddy bear she got on one of that big claw machines. only when she feels lonely, she tells herself. she is good on her own... but who is she lying to? she hugs that bear so tightly every single night, that's her best friend. she didn't got close to anybody at college and the routine is tough, that fluffy bear is the only one that always hear the feelings she holds deep down her heart and she feels comforted by that she even named him and takes it all around the house, when she's watching movies, cooking and baking or just being. one night she got so worked up after watching a romance movie with unexpected hot scenes that she just couldn't sleep thinking about it. suddenly she felt her body heat up while still holding tight to her bear cause she thought hugging him again would help her sleep faster even tho it didn't. instead, she started slowing grinding on it searching for some kind of relief. when she realized she was whimpering against the bear's soft cheeks and couldn't stop riding it so she started crying she felt so needy, sad and hopeless at the same time. she felt asleep bc of all the crying and her heart breaking she just wished her teddy bear could hug her back and take care of her.

deep in her sleep she felt a really soft touch, caressing her thighs, her waist and then hear face. she tought it was a dream, but when she felt a small kiss on her cheek she woke up to the sight of the prettiest guy she's ever seen and he was smiling so prettily and sweet but still he was a stranger, obviously she would scream. her high pitched scream almost broke the cute boy's heart. why was she screaming like this after telling him i love you every night. he was teary-eyed.

"WHO TF ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU GOT IN MY ROOM YOU PERV?" she was freaking out, who wouldn't though? she was so disturbed by the vision of a unknown -tall as hell- man IN HER BED wearing fcking bear pajamas. who is tryna prank her?

he tilted his head to the side in confusion and said "it's me gunwookie"

she blinked like five times before widening her eyes and again asking herself if this is a prank, how could it be, no one knows about her shameful friendship with a teddy bear, so how could he knows the name of it? he must be a stalker.

"what are your intentions? why are you... stalking me? how do you know me?"

and he looked even more confused than her

"i just wanna take care of you, i love you so much too, it was you who brought me here and I'm so thankful that you treat me so well" he smiled again

something sparked on her brain and she looked around her room searching for the giant teddy bear until she noticed he was there anymore... it can't be...?

"wait... are you my wookie bear? what am i saying? that's impossible..."

he just nodded his head and smiled again

"are you for real??" and gunwook confirmed but seconds later his smile dropped

"why were you crying earlier? i got so worried" and he pouted sadly

oh so he is really my bear, she thought

"I was feeling too sad and lonely gunwookie :( that's why"

"is there something i can do to make you better?" he asked and she just jumped on him giving the biggest hug ever, she needed that

"just stay here with me please gunwookie"

"okay i won't go anywhere" and he hugged her back

after a moment he speaked up again "I'm so sorry"

"why are you saying that, wookie?"

"did i hurt you? you were near me doing those sounds and then you started crying, i don't really understand what happened.. it sounded like you were in pain.. did i do something wrong? please explain me and i promised i will apologize properly to you and repair any mistake"

oh this is gonna be a really long night

(oh 🍄 anon my tests for this week has ended and now i'm back to this. and i got your back! i found some pics of gunwook in a snorlax hoodie. if you're in anon, you can't share images, just links!)

so continuing on from where we left, you explained that you are not in pain, just desperate for pleasure. gunwook seems a bit clueless but when he gets what you're trying to mean, his cheeks blush in pink. he lets you take the lead, he doesn't want to hurt you. he just wanted you to feel satisfied in your sleep.

you ride his cock, bouncing up and down, as you interlocked both of your hands together with his hands. and his blush just gets more pink. he's getting flustered from the pleasure, sweet and soft moans spilling out of his lips.

after the both of you cummed, you tidied yourself up and gave gunwook a simple aftercare, solely made of cuddles. "sorry for that, i was just...needy." you apologised. "y/n, that's alright, at least you're...happy now." gunwook responded, wrapping his arms around you.

[skrunksthatwunk]

found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?

[nereidprinc3ss]

pretty little things

in which you can't keep hiding your stuffed animals from your boyfriend. spencer would like a formal introduction.

fluff! warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, newish established relationship, they're so cute, reader is still kinda shy around him, I'm really obsessed with this dynamic actually, implied intimacy if you decide to interpret it that way, kissing/maybe mildly suggestive a/n: this is dedicated to my friends @parfaitblogs and @gublersg1rl bc in another universe we are actually just three jellycat plushies on someone's bed which is where the inspo for this little thing came from. and thank u willow for naming your fox. ok bye love u hope u enjoy !! :D

The first time you’d shown Spencer your room, and the handful of times he’s been in it since, you very intentionally hid your stuffed animals underneath the bed. After all, you’re an adult. You have a grown up job. And you don’t need him thinking you’re some kind of freak this early into the relationship. You like him too much. 

Today, however—you didn’t have any warning. He comes over unannounced, which is all well and good, until you bring him to your bedroom so he can sit on the bed while you change from work clothes into something comfier for movie night. As soon as you open the bedroom door, you see them, lined up neatly by your pillow, and you know it’s too late. 

“Uh…”

Spencer runs into your back and takes it as an excuse to settle his hands on your hips as he peers over your shoulder. 

“What?”

You slip out of his easy hold and skitter to your bed, practically throwing yourself on the mattress and sitting unnaturally as the little beaded eyes of your friends dig into your back. Even your brightest smile doesn’t distract Spencer. He’s like a bloodhound for the truth. At least, that’s the sense you’re beginning to get. 

“What are you doing?” He tries again, eyes narrowed and closing the door carefully behind him. 

“Nothing!”

The urgency with which you say it has his eyebrows raising. Obviously delighted by the embarrassing secret he’s sure to uncover, he approaches. You lean back further even as he towers over you until you’re almost on your back and he’s folded over you, menacingly (and dizzyingly) close. This sort of position is still new-ish and has your heart pounding, even if it’s entirely playful and ostensibly innocent. 

“Nothing? Are you sure?”

You nod, still shying away from him into the pile of pillows. Without looking he reaches under you and pulls out your pink bunny. You squeak and hide your face. 

“What is this?” He laughs, and you yank it away, sitting up so he’s forced to give you some breathing room. The bunny is cradled protectively in your arms, though you try to hold it a bit more casually when you notice. 

“I said it’s nothing.”

“What about the other two behind you? The fox and the… what is that? A deer?”

“No—”

“I didn’t even know they made deer stuffed animals—”

“Spencer, stop!”

He does, at the desperate tone of voice and the way you’re still hiding from him. 

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

As usual he’s over apologetic, now sitting knee to knee with you on the mattress and leaning down to try and catch your eye. You huff and grant him some eye contact just so he doesn’t go over the edge with worry. 

“But it’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s really not,” he laughs. “It’s cute. I can’t believe you’ve been—what, hiding them from me? This whole time? That’s like not telling me you have kids.”

“It is not like that.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I think you should probably introduce me.”

You give him a look, letting your head fall to your shoulder. “Spencer.”

“I’m serious. I’m going to be apart of their lives now. You can’t keep shoving them under the bed every time I stay the night.”

This nerd is going to be the death of you. 

Eventually, you groan reluctantly. 

“Fine. Okay, um—this one is… well—her name is Bunny. It’s not… very creative, but it’s—that’s just her name, okay?”

Spencer doesn’t react to your unjustified defensiveness—only grabs your bunny’s round little pink paw and shakes. “Enchanted.”

“Shut up.” Your face is so hot as you bury your smile and set Bunny aside, making sure she’s comfortable against the pillow before bringing out your deer. Spencer doesn’t have the shit-eating grin you were partially expecting when you glance up at him from beneath your lashes—he’s smiling, but it’s so soft. A little twisted, like he’s holding back the full extent of it for your sake. But you wouldn’t mind it at full power. It’s like he’s hiding the sun in a saucepan and the lid’s not on quite right. And he’s looking right at you. Like you’re the source of all his joy. 

A moment passes. You clear your throat and look back down. “Um—this is Bambi. ’Cause—you know.”

“I do,” Spencer agrees genially, nodding as if this were a normal conversation. “Kind of a dark thing to name your deer, though.”

“You’re judging,” you accuse balefully. He chuckles and his hand finds your knee, rubbing apologetically. 

“I’m not, I’m not! I take it back. I retract it. Continue, please.”

For a moment you only pout, but it doesn’t deter him—he simply looks at you expectantly, and now those syrupy eyes come with the added bonus of his hand on your leg. Fine. He wins. But not without a deep, tortured sigh from you while you’re grabbing your fox that makes the corner of his mouth twitch up. 

“This one is…”

The name dies on your tongue, too ridiculous to be said out loud. 

“Tell me,” Spencer pleads in that gentle voice and with those big eyes that you’d consider burning him at the stake for because that look on his face has to be witchcraft. 

“Okay but you can’t laugh,” you insist in one quick breath, giving him a serious look that he can only partially reciprocate. 

“No laughing.”

“It’s… Mr. Cuddles.”Spencer bites the inside of his cheek to keep his promise. You melt inside both from embarrassment and from the way it only further defines an already superbly sculpted bone structure. “Do not.”

Spencer scoffs at your warning. “Don’t what? I’m behaving.”

“Don’t make fun of Mr. Cuddles!”

“Does it look like I’m making fun of him?”

“Her.”

“What?”

“Her. Mr. Cuddles is a girl.”

“I see… can you explain that to me?”

“If a human person said I am a girl and I would like you to call me Mister, would you question that? Would you ask them to explain it to you?”

“I guess not.”

“Exactly. Don’t be rude.”The way Spencer is looking at you now, eyes so clear and still so full of affection, like you’ve got some sort of heavenly spotlight trained on you, lips parted as if to say something but still silent, has you forgetting your momentary confidence. You shrink. “What?”

“I just… you’re amazing.” You throw Mr. Cuddles at his chest and fall into your pile of pillows with a groan. Spencer only continues rubbing your leg. It’s very nice, actually. He’s gentle. And patient. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you came to this conclusion just because I introduced you to my stuffed animals.”

“Not solely because of that. There are a lot of contributing factors. I mean, the stuffed animal thing helped.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you insist for the umpteenth time. 

“It’s adorable.”

Spencer pushes pillows aside and lies next to you so you’re eye to eye. It’s nice how his presence isn’t exhausting the way people sometimes are. He’s easy to exist with. He makes you enjoy existing a little more than usual. Even now. 

You raise your eyebrows and speak, cheek squished against fabric. “I’m a serious adult.”

“I know you are,” he assures with a solemn nod. 

Your eyes narrow ever so slightly. 

“Okay… well… don’t go forgetting that. I’m fun but I can also be not fun.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“No you wouldn’t. You would hate it. You’d be so scared.”

Spencer gives up on holding back a smile and moves his hand to tuck hair behind your ear. 

“You’re right. I’m already terrified. The anticipation… it’s killing me, you know?”

You’re giggling as you roll over on top of him and he roots his hand in your hair, pulling you in for a long, smiley kiss like he knew it was coming. Only when he blindly throws your stuffed friends from the bed do you pull away—just by an inch or so. 

“No respect,” you scold playfully. He kisses you again, tangling your legs and hands wandering. 

“Can I apologize later?”

You’re good with that. 

[sanguineterrain]

Hello! I recently found your blog and bruh I'M SMITTEN by your works.

Would it be alright if I requested Jason Todd x gn reader (also vigilante but only works on small cases and in safer places... Jason wouldn't let them anywhere else after a heavy injury they sustained in the past)...

Maybe they're searching for clues in one of the alleys and reader finds a baby there and takes it home (or maybe they fall upon a tired-looking woman throwing her baby over the bridge, reader manages to catch it but when they get back up the woman is gone)? Just overall how would Jason react to his partner finding a kid and bringing it home and what would happen after.

I made myself laugh bc I thought Jason would be like "good thing you went home and not to a bat cave, can't handle another sibling, the last one is already a living hell.

And I wanted to ask if it would be alright if I requested more than just one thing? Completely fine if not.

❤️❤️❤️

This is a super cute prompt!! Thanks for sending it in. And yes feel free to send more than one request 💓

Jason Todd x gn!reader. Abandoned baby, established relationship, Jason being a cutie patootie.

****

You find the baby in a grocery store basket stuffed with blankets behind a Walmart.

She's a tiny thing, with fat cheeks and a permanent wrinkle between her brow. She's frighteningly quiet.

You take her home.

Home has become synonymous with Jason's apartment. At some point, it just made more sense for you to move in long-term. Jason had gingerly brought it up to you one night and kissed you hard when you'd said yes.

You pick up some formula on the way home and a few other things. The baby starts to cry after a bit, to your relief, and after feeding and changing her, you sway her until she falls asleep.

You're content to hold her until you get a crib. You fully intend to do so.

You hear the first lock turn, then the second, then the third. There's no worry that Jason will wake the baby; he always enters a building like he's casing it.

You have the TV turned down low, channel switched to some late-night sitcom. Jason comes in and closes the door with his foot. He takes off his helmet, revealing his messy curls. You smile.

"Hey, Jaybird," you say.

Jason glances at you as he walks to the bedroom, unzipping his vest as he goes. He grins tiredly.

"Hey, sweetheart. Hello, baby."

You watch him disappear into the bedroom. The baby is still fast asleep. You adjust your legs to get more comfortable in the chair.

Jason backs out of the room a moment later, gear still on. His vest is half-unzipped.

"That's a baby," he says.

You nod. "Yep."

Jason pulls a face like he's doing calculus in his head. "Did—do we have a... did I...?"

"How would that even work, Jason?"

"Look, there's many ways that can happen! Y'know how many freakin' clones are in this city? My freakazoid brother could get you a genetically engineered baby in twelve hours."

"She is an organically produced baby not related to either of us. Okay?"

"Oh. Sure, yeah." Jason starts to turn, then comes back. "Wait, no, I still have questions. Why do you have a baby?"

"I found her."

Jason squints at you, then at the baby. "You found her."

"Uh-huh."

"I don't think that'll hold up in court, sweets."

"Relax, Jason. I'm ninety-nine percent sure she was abandoned. I found her behind a Walmart. I know I could've dropped her at the hospital, but I just..." You look down at her sleeping face. "She's just so little. And she needs human contact. Nurses are already overworked as it is. What harm is in taking her home?"

"Yeah, y'know what that is? A siren song. Pretty soon, you'll be fitting her for a domino mask and dressing her like a traffic light."

You roll your eyes. "Don't be silly. I wouldn't dare try to take Damian's title. Plus, traffic light color palettes are so outdated."

Jason pouts. "Are not."

You carefully stand, baby in your arms, and walk over to peck Jason on his cheek.

"Are too. Wanna hold her?"

Jason looks at her like she's a bomb. "I dunno. I might... what if I... hurt her?"

You frown. "You wouldn't hurt her, Jaybird."

"I might hold her wrong or make her cry, and then I'll have to throw myself off the roof."

"You are such a drama king. She's sleeping like a log. You won't wake her unless you scream in her ear."

Before Jason can reply, you're unloading her into his arms. He jumps into action, arms and hands awkward but trying. You smile gently.

"Put her head in the crook of your elbow. Yeah, good. Support her butt. Both arms. Yeah, good! Good job, honey."

You pat his arm. Jason looks spooked for a second, then seems to relax when she doesn't stir. She's cradled in his arms like she was made to fit there.

"Isn't she so cute?" you whisper.

"She is really cute. So small. God." He watches her for a moment, mouth downturned. "I was a small baby too."

"I bet you were a cute baby," you say, tucking a curl behind Jason's ear.

"Oh, sure. People came from all over the world to have a gander at the cutest baby on the planet. Looks like she's taken my title."

Jason starts to sway lightly, holding her like she's gold. You feel your face soften.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he looks up after a moment like he's expecting you to correct his posture. "What?"

You shake your head. "Nothing. Just... I'm just really in love with you, Jay."

Jason's cheeks turn pink. He bites the inside of his cheek.

"Oh. I'm, uh, really in love with you too."

You kiss him properly for that, and Jason hums into your mouth, then pulls back slightly.

"We can't keep the baby. Y'know that, right? I gotta marry you properly first," Jason says against your lips.

"This is the twenty-first century, buddy. People keep babies all the time, unwed or not."

"Yeah, I know. Still wanna marry you first."

You look down at the baby and give her an air kiss. Then you look up at Jason, putting on the saddest face you can muster. He sighs.

"Well," he says, gently touching her fingers. "Maybe we can keep her for a little while."

[k2ntoss]

hihi, it me, back again with more jason brain rot, this time brought to you by this random Instagram reel i saw while having dinner lol

anyway, just imagine this with Jay?? like, warm cozy domestic hugs and kisses in the middle of the kitchen?? simple domestic bliss?? absolute dreammmmmm 😭😭

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C3nuMFVMRhe/?igsh=MXhqMWdtYTQxbDNqMw==

-🦊

ps. hope you're doing well lovely, miss you <3

i crave and need fluff bc i love me a little sweet jason !!!!!!!!!!! (i'm single and i want a nice relationship) i can't see the reel now BUUUUUT i'm gonna do my magic and be a simp and this could be a second fluffy part to that drabble with subby jason having to skip patrol after getting good head from his gf hehehe you can read thar here

sometimes having your girlfriend to call sick for you so you can take a rest earns you three well deserved days to sleep late and have comforting hours without having to worry about patching wounds or chasing after criminals.

so after a night of being completely unable to move from bed because of how dizzy his head was, he's clumsily going out of the bedroom looking for you, rubbing his eyes to try and push his tiredness away because he didn't liked the feeling of waking up after you, when you had already left the bed and he isn't able to pull you closer and kiss you right away.

it's funny to see him like that, while you wait on the living room drinking a cup of coffee for him to wake up you're able to see him walk out of the room still half asleep but he looks just too cute. jason is a 6ft tall guy, big as a wall and rough but there he was, dragging his feet, his hair all fluffy and the black hoodie he wore to sleep looking messy; you can see him walk to the kitchen and he grunts softly when he sees nobody there but as soon as he turns around he spots you.

you know what jason is about to trap you under his body but damned be his long legs because you're not able to properly set your cup aside when jason is letting his weight fall over you like a tired cat "wait, baby... the coffee" you say between giggles but it's too late when your boyfriend is cuddling himself into your arms, hugging your waist and nuzzling his face against your neck "good morning, jay"

"g' morning, princess..." he mutters, voice is still hoarse but sweet as he greets you "why were you out of bed?" jason asks, kissing softly a small trail in your neck as you wrap one of your legs around his waist.

"were you looking for me, love? i thought about making breakfast for you before you woke up..." you say softly, trying to move and lean a bit to leave your cup on the table but failing when he just cuddles more into your chest making you chuckle softly "you looked so pretty sleeping i couldn't wake you up... are you still tired, red?" and that nickname makes him grin goofily, he loves the way it sounds when you call him that and even more as you keep babying him with soft pecks on his forehead.

"i feel like i could sleep for a month... but only if you're there with me" jason's voice is a low rumble, his words sending shivers through her spine and that mixed with how sweet it was knowing that he wanted you by his side even when his last months as the red hood had been so tiring.

"want to make breakfast with me and then we go eat on bed? we could watch a movie, does that sound good?" you ask him, reaching to cup jason's face between your hands and pressing a soft kiss on his lips which he gladly accepts with a soft purr leaving his throat.

he nods and you can swear he's never looked so calm before, so well rested and it was just what he needed more than anything. jason was sure he had done a lot of harm and there would be days when he didn't feel like deserving you but right now, having his sweet girlfriend to look at him like he hung up the moon and stars makes him feel worthy of love and care, even the big bad red hood deserved to be babied after all.

"then let's go, big guy" you say, starting to squirm in a failed attempt to slide from under jason's body and he chuckles at it before moving with you on his arms, picking your body up and walking to the kitchen as he lets soft kisses fall to your cheeks and neck before putting you back down.

and the morning goes like that, jason wishes he could get more of this. the way you walk around the kitchen as he tries to help, pouting softly when you don't let him do everything because he has to rest, he loves the warmth he feels on his chest as you walk past him and he pulls you back to steal a kiss from your lips before you try to walk away only to end up with him clinging to your back, kissing the top of your head as you cook.

[callme-holly]

Can you do a three times the gang almost caught and the one time they did with two dal or steve

But the reader is also a Curtis? Like their sister?

𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 [𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - i'm so sorry this took so long omg. I'm really trying to be faster but my attention span is so short and I just can't sit down for longer than 10 mins. I will probably also end up writing this sort of fic for Two-bit and Steve too, only bc I have literally nothing for them yet lmaoo. Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing, mentions of fighting

0.1 - more charm than sense 

The Curtis home is unusually quiet; everyone either out or at work. 

The radio plays on low, some commercial station that only seems to play the same ten songs before switching back to the first and replaying them all without end. 

You’re standing in front of the sink, towel in hand, and as you clean up the remnants of breakfast, your brother’s dirty plates are dumped haphazardly atop the counter in a less than neat pile. The water runs clear under your steady hands, and for a moment you forget that you aren’t entirely alone in the house, too focused on cleaning up to notice anything further than the sound of your own breathing and the light static of the radio.

You're so lost in thought that you barely register the lingering presence behind you, only startling once a familiar pair of arms wind themselves around your waist from behind, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cheap, most likely stolen, cologne filling your senses. Lips are pressed against the base of your neck, and a chin rests on your shoulder. The sudden weight is warm and familiar. 

“I thought ya invited me over to spend some time with me, doll, not clean.” Dallas drawls, his voice rough and his accent heavy. You can feel him smile into your skin as you sigh, letting go of the cloth in favour of turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall to your hips, and his thumbs trace lazy patterns into your skin. 

“I didn’t invite you, Dal,” You raise your brows, “You climbed in through my window.” 

Dallas laughs lowly in response, shrugging nonchalantly as he drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Didn't expect ya to be so preoccupied.” He trails off, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and nipping lightly along your jawline. “Thought I’d be gettin’ more attention than this.” 

You roll your eyes fondly in response, but don’t move away as he continues peppering kisses down your jaw and collar, your hands wandering idly to the hem of your shirt. You’re quick to slap him away, fixing him with a warning look. He just grins lazily, leaning in close enough to press his lips just below your ear. 

“Dallas.” Your tone is stern, and it has absolutely no effect whatsoever on the greaser, who merely hums in reply, hands moving back to your waist to pull you closer. “Not here.”

Dallas’ grip tightens for a moment, and he pulls back, tilting his head to the side. “C’mon, doll… You’re brothers are gone; what’s there to worry about?” There’s a wicked grin on his lips as he steps away from you and leans against the kitchen counter, watching you carefully. 

It had been a mutual agreement to hide your relationship from the gang, a decision made to spare you from the headache Darry would no doubt give you and the black eye Dallas would receive for even thinking about touching you. You knew it was stupid to try hiding things from the gang, especially when they could see right through you like nobody else did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell them.

Darry would probably skin you if he found out you were dating a hood like Dally, and you didn’t want to risk it. 

“There’s plenty to worry about,” you conclude, turning back to the sink. “What if Two-Bit or Johnny decide they wanna pay little old me a visit, huh, and they catch us here in the kitchen?” 

Dallas chuckles before placing his hands on your shoulders, leaning in close to whisper directly into your ear, “They won’t catch us, darlin’. They haven’t yet.” His hands begin to wander once more, and you drain the sink with a sigh, trying to find what little composure you have left to resist him and his words. He's relentless, damn him, and you know better than to hope for any sort of peace and quiet when you're home and alone.

His lips continue to trail a line down your neck, mouthing teasingly along the sensitive skin before moving back to your lips. This time, however, you give in, your fingers threading into his hair as you meet his eager advance. 

It's almost too easy to lose yourself in the haze of the moment, so much so that you hardly notice the thumping of footsteps on the porch until the screen door opens suddenly and Sodapop’s voice rings out.

“Y/N! You here?” His voice is loud with excitement as always, and you’re quick to jump away from Dallas, your eyes wide with surprise. 

“What the hell?” You hiss, glancing around the room frantically before spotting before your gaze lands on the bathroom door. You shove Dallas towards it, mumbling under your breath as you do so. “Get your ass outta here.” He snorts quietly, following your gaze and pressing a kiss to your cheek before closing the door behind him just as Soda rounds the corner in search of you. He beams brightly, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“You’re home early…” You start, and he shrugs, heading to the dining table to grab his lunch which is still sitting where you’d left it out this morning. 

“Forgot this,” He holds up the bag and you roll your eyes internally. Typical. 

“You know,” You head back to the sink, taking out the now-clean dishes and stacking them back in the cupboard. “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve lived this long.” 

Soda smirks and raises an eyebrow, backing towards the door, lunch now in hand. “What can I say? What I lack in sense, I make up for in charm.” He winks, flashing a cocky grin as he leaves the house, the door banging shut behind him.

You watch to make sure he's completely gone before jogging to the bathroom and throwing open the door. “I told you this would happen.” You start, but stop short when you see that the room is empty.

The only sign that anybody had even been in here in the first place is the open window, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, and that stupid cheap cologne that lingers in the air.

“Goddamnit, Winston…”  You huff, shaking your head and walking over to pull the window shut. 

0.2 - some unwanted visitors  

There’s a slight chill in the air; the summer nights slowly beginning to turn cooler as fall begins its slow, sleepy crawl across the state. 

Dallas has an arm thrown lazily over your shoulders, a cigarette dangling between his lips as he presses close, and a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. You lean into him slightly, savouring the warmth surrounding him and feeling content in his hold. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, neither wanting to break it nor quite being comfortable staying silent either.

“So... I suppose you're wanted back before curfew, huh?” Dallas eventually drawls, shifting slightly to lean his head against yours. You let out a small laugh, leaning further into him and  allowing your cheek to rest against his chest.

“You know it,” You murmur, and he hums, his fingers tracing little circles on the small of your back absentmindedly. “Darry thinks I'm out with friends again, so you’ll have to drop me off at the end of the street.”

The greaser frowns at that, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I ain’t lettin’ you out of my sight, doll, 'specially not this late.” He looks almost offended that you'd even suggest such an idea, and you shake your head, looking up at him. 

“Dal, I can handle myself. I don’t need you watching my ass 24/7.” 

He rolls his eyes, giving you an indignant scoff. “You ain’t got to act all high and mighty, doll. You know I ain’t going to let you walk alone.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers the next part. “Besides, we both know you like it when I watch your ass.” He pulls back then, grinning wildly when you roll your eyes dramatically, pushing him away. 

“Whatever, Winston,” You mutter, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as he reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together loosely. “But seriously, though, I’ll be fine.” 

Dallas simply grunts, choosing to drop the subject, giving you no further argument. You know he’ll still insist on walking you to your porch, regardless of whether your brothers spot you or not.

He thrives on adrenaline and the thrill of getting caught is just too much for him to resist. 

You both turn back to the movie playing on screen—some old beach movie with a plot no different from every other. It's cliche and unrealistic, but you're willing to put up with it just so you and Dallas can spend time together without hiding. 

It's not until halfway through the movie that you spot a familiar pair of faces making their way towards your row of seats, too caught up in their debate to spot you. Dallas currently has his head buried in the crook of your neck, the movie long since forgotten as he trails kisses along your jawline, and you're barely keeping your attention focused on the screen.

“Dal,” Your tone is hard, and you elbow him sharply in the ribs, eliciting an annoyed groan. “We’ve got company.” 

Dallas turns to glance towards the end of your row, and, sure enough, there stands none other than your brother Ponyboy Curits and Two-Bit Mathews, both of whom are yet to notice you both. 

“Shit,” He growls under his breath, arm slipping from around your shoulder as he turns his body away from them. “What’re they doin’ here?” 

You give him a half-hearted shrug, scanning the area for a way out and coming up short. The closest exits are the ones closest to your brother and Two-Bit, and you have no doubt that they’ll spot you if you try to make a break for it.

You're about to suggest going the long way and cutting through the crowds when suddenly someone comes up behind you, hands slamming into your shoulders and your voice cutting through your internal panic.

“Y/N Curtis!”

You whip your head around, meeting the gaze of Two-Bit, who is grinning like a madman. Dallas lets out a grunt of irritation, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting the two boys a cold look.

“What’d you want?” He snaps, and Ponyboy frowns, looking over at you curiously.

“I thought you told Darry you were out with friends tonight?” 

Your eyes widen, and your face heats instantly. “Well…” You trail off. “There was a change of plans.” 

Pony raises an eyebrow, seemingly sceptical at your words, as Two sits himself down in the seat beside you, stretching out and taking a sip from his drink. Dallas says nothing, his expression darkening, and you feel him tense up beside you. 

There's an awkward pause, broken only by the crackling audio of the movie, before Dal huffs impatiently and rises from his chair. He shoots you a look, and you instantly understand, standing in your own chair. 

“We’re going to go grab some drinks.” You state this before turning on your heel and following Dallas away from the seats, weaving through the rows until you find a secluded spot, away from the larger crowds and the prying eyes of the two greasers.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit watch to both go, frowning in confusion before Two raises a brow. “They seem pretty close.”

Pony shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “My sister isn’t stupid enough to date a hood like Dally.”

Oh, how wrong they are…  

0.3 - who’s jacket is that? 

You’re at the DX, leaning back against one of the gas pumps as you listen to whatever wild story Steve is telling you. His hands flail around dramatically, and you nod along slowly, only half paying attention as Dallas comes to stand beside you, a cigarette hanging lazily between his lips. 

He doesn't speak, simply resting a subtle hand against your lower back, his fingers drawing lazy patterns into your skin. Your mind races, and you take note of the people around you. How could any of your friends notice the small display of affection happening between the two of you? But they all seem too caught up in their own conversations to notice. 

Steve’s voice cuts through your thoughts just then, drawing you from your reverie and your attention away from Dallas. 

“And then she tosses her milkshake right in this asshole’s face and leaves!” You have no idea what he's talking about, but let out a small laugh regardless, at least trying to look somewhat interested in what he’s saying.

Dallas shifts a little next to you; the pressure of his hand is now more noticeable against your lower back, and you know that he knows you're distracted. You can almost sense the smirk he’s holding back, and you resist the urge to turn and glare at him, instead focusing back on Steve and the other boys, their mindless chatter continuing for a few moments longer before Johnny speaks up, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Hey, Y/N, is that a new jacket?” 

You turn to stare at the boy, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” You glance down, and you swear your heart stops for a moment. You're still wearing Dallas' jacket. Shit. 

Quickly, you clear your throat, hoping that the colour flooding your cheeks isn’t too obvious. “Oh… Uh–” By now, all eyes are on you; the previous conversation has long been forgotten in favour of watching you intently. It’s uncomfortable, and just as you’re about to offer up a poor attempt at an answer, Steve pipes up again, his brow furrowed. 

“Ain’t that your jacket, Dal?” He looks over at the greaser beside you, and Dallas hums, taking another drag of his cigarette. There’s a small smirk on his face, his eyes flickering down at you before he gives a shrug, blowing out a thin cloud of smoke. 

“Dunno. Could be.” He states this nonchalantly, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and slouching against the gas pump. “It looks awfully similar.” 

You swallow hard, averting your gaze as the gang glances back over at you, all sharing the same confused expressions. It seems Dallas isn't going to offer up any more on the subject, so with a few heavy sighs, everyone seems to drop it, returning to their previous conversations. 

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turn to look up at Dallas, who is still grinning smugly. His hand rests comfortably on your back once more, his fingers resuming their rhythmic pattern, and you allow your shoulders to relax a little, knowing he’ll tease you relentlessly later on. 

“They look awfully comfortable.” Steve remarks quietly, nodding his head in yours and Dallas's general direction. It seems your fond expression for the hood hasn’t gone unnoticed, and Soda snorts, nudging his buddy in the ribs. 

“What’re you talking about?” He raises a brow, taking a rag from his pocket and wiping off the oil staining his hands. His attention moves to you and Dallas, a knowing look spreading across his features as he watches the two of you interact and an impossibly soft look in Dally’s eyes as you talk to him. 

He can’t help but notice the jacket once more, how it’s just a little too big on you, and how it looks a little too much like Dallas’s to just be a coincidence. No, there’s no doubt in his mind about who exactly owns it, and if the smug smirk tugging at the corners of Dallas’ lips is anything to go by, then maybe, just maybe, Steve is right. 

Things are slowly starting to add up. 

0.4 - caught...

It’s early evening, and the sun is sinking low in the sky, casting dim rays of golden light throughout the room. It’s peaceful; the excitable chatter of the gang in the living room fills the air, muffled by your closed door. 

Dallas has his head resting in your lap, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers as he blows smoke out through your open window. His eyes are closed tight, bruises and cuts litter his face, and his skin is stained with blood and dirt. He doesn’t speak, merely wincing as your fingertips trail over his wounds, stopping occasionally to press gentle kisses to his hair. 

There’s a nasty gash above his eye, the blood trickling freely in little rivulets, and you wipe at it lightly with a wad of gauze, the sting of the alcohol drawing a pained grunt from the greaser.

“Do ya have to do that?” 

You give him a sympathetic smile, brushing your lips over his forehead tenderly. “Sorry,” you mutter, running your fingers through his matted hair. “I’m almost done.” 

Dallas doesn't move; he just stays silent, letting you dab gently at his injuries, his expression unreadable.

You never know how he's going to act after a rumble. Sometimes, he's fine, joking around and teasing with the others, but then there’s those small moments where the tension from the fight doesn’t dissipate, where he sits in complete silence, letting you work without complaint. 

These are the times when you worry, when it becomes obvious that he is hurting. He won’t tell you, not directly at least, but you know something's wrong. You can tell in the way he holds onto you, his face hidden from view, as his hands grip desperately at the fabric of your shirt. 

“Dal,” You murmur softly, and your tone is soft and soothing. “Talk to me.” Your fingers trail softly through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, and you notice his shoulders drop a little. He exhales heavily, pressing his cheek against your thigh, his eyes closed tightly.

“Not right now,” His voice is thick and rough, and words slurred slightly as he struggled to stay awake. Your eyebrows furrow as a soft sigh escapes your lips, reaching your free hand out to brush over his bruised jaw. It's rare to see him so vulnerable and obviously upset, and it hurts knowing that he will bottle things up and hide them away until he’s forced to let it all out. 

You don’t push, though. Instead, you take his hand in yours, running your thumb over his bruised knuckles as you lay back against the pillows. The movement causes Dallas to shift slightly, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, and he drifts off within seconds. 

You let your slip shut, allowing yourself to drift easily along with him, content to lay here with him and wait patiently until he’s ready to talk. 

“Hey, where’s Dally and Y/N?” Pony’s voice breaks through the cheerful laughter of the gang as they bounce around the living room, most still high on adrenaline and excitement, only slowing down slightly once the question reaches their ears. 

They all glanced about the space, their eyes scanning over every possible corner, before coming to rest with each other, sharing the same look of confusion. 

Darry pushes himself up from his chair with a sigh, tossing the first-aid kit in his lap to Soda, who catches it with ease. “Y/N is in her room. She might know where Dallas is.” The gang all watches as he heads down the hall, stopping just outside your door to knock softly. 

When there's no response, he frowns, glancing back towards the gang before knocking again. Still nothing. With a quick shrug, he turns the doorknob gently, pushing open the door and peeking inside.

Your bedroom is dark except for the faint glow emanating from your desk lamp, which illuminates the walls with a soft pale glow. Darry is about to call out to you, about to question you on where Dallas is, when he spots the hood in question asleep with his head in your lap. 

His breath hitches, and he pauses, his gaze wandering to you, your fingers threaded through his blonde locks. 

“Soda. Pony.” Darry calls quietly, catching both brothers’ attention immediately as he speaks. “Get over here.”

The two boys scramble up from their places on the couch, racing across the room and peering into your darkened room curiously, their eyes widening at the sigh before them.

“Well, damn.” Sodapop lets out a low whistle as the rest of the gang come up behind them. Two-Bit lets out a short laugh, and Steve cuts him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs. “I told you,” the former whispers, grinning broadly. “I told you they had something going on!” 

The group all share a look, the sound of Darry clearing his throat echoing in the quiet house. Slowly, he backs out of the room. closing the door once more and letting out a breath. 

There are words that will need to be had, promises that need to be made, but he supposes that can wait for another time. Right now, he'll let you and Dallas have your moment because it seems it's been long awaited. And it certainly has.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[luveline]

Jade, if you don't mind, I'd love to see more of Spencer with a badass!reader who doesn't want to show much emotion bc it's a bit hard for her :)

Have a nice day<33

thank u!

cw graphic imagery + minor character death 

The gunshot is loud. It's deafening. It's deja vu. 

Spencer watches the body collapse in on itself with ears ringing, a pitching forward, a mess where a head used to be hitting the tiled floor. Barely a teenager, snuffed to nothing. You collapse onto your knees beside it, the sound of your knee caps connecting with the floor the only distinctive sound to his ears. He can't hear Hotch, rarely pissed, and he can't hear the sirens outside. He can't hear any of it. 

Blood spray on your cheek transfers to his hand as he remembers himself, falling onto his knees beside you, gore sinking into his pants. It's hot in its pool, colder where it's painted your face, the spray metallic as he swipes it away from your eyelashes. "Are you okay?" he asks, trying to meet your eyes. 

Your gaze is a thousand miles away. You won't look at him. He forces your chin up and it doesn't matter; you aren't present, no you behind your eyes. 

He applies pressure to your face. Nothing cruel, enough to drag you back to the present as his thumb sets about stroking a soft line, the only softness he can offer right now. "Are you okay?" he asks again. He says your name. 

You barely blink. 

"Take her outside, Reid," Hotch says, pointless EMTs creeping into the room. They're there to confirm death. Nothing else. "Just take her out." 

Spencer hooks you under the arms and drags you up against his chest. You're rigid, dead weight, and he has to plead with you to get you moving. "Come on," he says, his arm behind your back. 

Morgan sees the struggle. He has questions of his own, but all his off-kilter teasing and pet names fall on deaf ears as the two men help you outside and onto a low flower bed wall. You seem to snap back into action, then, breath suddenly quick and hands stretching out to touch your blood slick knees. You visibly fret at the staining of your palms and wipe your hands down your calves, a bundle of harsh movements. 

"It's okay," Spencer says. 

"Does she need a medic?" Morgan asks. He sounds angry, somehow. Spencer knows it to be a manifestation of his worry for you in your reluctant friendship. 

You turn to Spencer, eyes imploring. 

"No," Spencer says, "just give us a minute." 

Morgan squints. A minute, he seems to agree, and not a second longer. You're quick to anger, sure, but quicker to logic, and your shock is catching everyone unprepared. You've never reacted like this. Spencer has never seen you on your knees like that. 

"I'm sorry," you say, touching his thigh. Your voice is barely your own, thready and hoarse. "I tried." 

"I know you tried. I know you did, you have nothing to be sorry for." Spencer's reeling himself. They haven't had a case like this in years, and it hits the same. Another bullied kid failed by the people around him, who could've hurt hundreds of people, who could've killed them, and killed you. It's complicated but remarkably simple. "He was going to hurt you." 

"We could've–" You choke on something, some suggestion of a what-if.

You don't let yourself connect to people on cases. You have sympathy for victims, empathy, but you don't react like this. You're like Emily in that you compartmentalise everything you can. You've never spoken about past cases and what you might change, never even suggested to him that you think about your failings after they've happened, until now. 

"I don't know what happened," you say, your voice near whining, high-pitched and logged with panic as you stare down at your legs and cover your face, as though you don't want him to see you. 

You turn away from him. 

"It's okay," he says. He tries to be soft but his adrenaline is coasting, his reassurance panicked. You sound like you're in pain. 

"I don't know what happened," you insist, covering the back of your head with your hands as you curl in on yourself. 

You don't cry. Spencer wasn't expecting you too. You just panic, tensed, turned away from him, and flinch at his attempts to touch you. "Don't. I'm fine," you force out. 

"You're not fine. You don't have to be fine," he stands up and you flicker, hands pushing down harder. Spencer covers them with his own and sighs. "It's okay. It's okay." He drops to a whisper. "It's okay, you're okay." 

You're hard to comfort, but it's not impossible. Spencer isn't stupid. He knows if this were anyone else touching you, you'd have sprung from your makeshift seat or pushed them away, but he's lucky in that you seem to have this tender spot for him, a sweetness that never wanes. He drifts in closer and hugs your head to his abdomen, one arm covering your hands until they fall, the other across your back. 

Your job is your job, but there is nothing wrong with needing comfort after seeing something horrific. "It's okay if you don't feel how you were expecting," he says, rubbing a half-circle into your back.

"It's hard… for me. This is…" 

You don't finish. It doesn't matter. Spencer paused any action to hold you, his eyes shuttering closed, dumb to any sound beside the strange shudder in your breath as you catch it. You've always had a talent for removing Spencer from his surroundings; you've looked at him and snagged him out of time. He never knew it could happen like this, though. You struggle to fall apart and Spencer doesn't know if he should hold you together or let it hurt. 

Whatever you do… "I'm here," he says, rubbing your back. 

You wrap your arms around his waist. 

[be-my-sunrise]

3:04am

pairings: idol bf!jeno x fem!reader

genre: smut, light fluff if you squint. minors pls dni

word count: 1,008 (i got carried away🤷🏻‍♀️)

warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, slight nipple play?, reader is feeling a bit jealous bc jeno went shirtless during smoothie, jeno gets handcuffed. let me know if i missed anything!

You don't exactly remember what happened, but one thing for sure is that you have been waiting all night to finally feel Jeno's body against yours. You both had just returned home from NCT Dream's concert, and the moment the door's closed, your lips immediately met his, hungrily moving against each other. One thing after another, the two of you are leaving a trail of clothes towards your bedroom. 

And now? Well, Jeno is currently between your legs and working his magic against your wet core using his tongue and fingers, making you into a moaning mess. His lips close around your clit, sucking on it whilst adding a second finger in your core. A breathy moan falls from your lips, back arching against the bed when he curls his fingers inside you. You rest your hand on his head to push him even closer. He looks up at you, reading your face to find out whether you're nearing your release.

Jeno pretty much knows you like the back of his hand. With the way you contort your face–jaw going slack, eyes screwed shut, eyebrows furrowing, chest heaving–he's 100% sure that you're close. The way you moan uncontrollably encourages him to pump his fingers faster and make you clench around him. You tug on his hair sharply, making him moan against your clit which sends low vibrations to it. Just when you feel the familiar knot in your stomach, you push his head and try to wiggle away from him.

"Wait, no–stop!"

Jeno immediately stops and looks at you with worry. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing's wrong, I just want you inside me when I cum." You said breathlessly.

His face relaxes and he smiles. He leaves a few kisses on the inside of your thighs before getting off of the bed. You prop your body up using your elbows and you see him licking his fingers clean, his eyes closing to relish the taste of your arousal. He softly hums before opening his eyes again to look at you, making you blush under his stare.

"Sweet as always."

Your eyes never leave his body as he unbuttons his pants and pulls it down along with his boxers, mouth watering when his cock slaps against his lower abdomen. Jeno also can't help but appreciate the view in front of him–you completely naked on the bed, legs parted widely, your pussy glistening with arousal even in the dimly lit room, your swollen lips–he swears he can just cum right then and there. He climbs onto the bed once again, his figure towering over yours, eyes never leaving yours as he leans in for another heated kiss. The two of you moan into the kiss. It's been a while since the two of you had sex, so let's just say, you both are barely keeping it together. 

He pulls away and whispers in your ear before he continues to leave kisses on your neck. "I take it you like my little surprise from earlier?"

You scoff, "I think everyone enjoyed your little surprise."

The slight attitude in your tone makes him smirk. He then looks at you with a knowing smile.

"Are you jealous?"

Your eyes widen at his question. 

"What? Of course not! You know I'm not really the jealous type." You shyly look away to avoid his gaze. "I just don't like that everyone was staring at what's mine. Not to mention that it was also broadcasted online."

Jeno chuckles and gently tucks his hand under your chin to make you look at him. 

"You don't have to be jealous, baby. I'm all yours." He swipes his thumb along your lower lip before pressing his lips against yours for a sweet kiss. "They can stare all they want, but you're the only one who can touch me. And I. Only. Want. You." He pecks your lips in between words as he finishes his last sentence. 

The two of you lock eyes intensely before you push him onto the bed, switching the positions in a quick movement. You can feel his erection poking your inner thigh with the way you're straddling him right now. You put both hands on him to feel his toned chest and abdomen, lightly scratching his skin as you trail your hands down, making him shudder. 

"Mine," you whisper.

"That's right, baby. I'm all yours."

You lean down and start peppering his neck with kisses while your hands roam free on his body. His hands grips your ass, pushing your waist down to press your bare pussy on his cock, making you grind against him. Your lips eventually find their way down to his chest. Jeno lets out a broken moan when you flick your tongue on one of his nipples while your finger massages the other. Only his heavy breaths and your muffled moans can be heard. The small noises that he makes make you want to continue what you're doing right now and make him cum. Then suddenly an idea pops up in your head and you quickly pull away from him, earning a whimper from him.

"Babe, why did you stop?"

You open the bottom drawer of your nightstand and rummages for the thing you need. He couldn't exactly see what it is you're looking for, but he can definitely hear the sound of metal clinking. He sees you smiling with a mischievous look in your eyes as you show him the handcuffs. You can literally see his face lit up as he sees it and immediately lifts both of his arms up, waiting for you to cuff him against the headboard. Once he's all handcuffed nicely, you gently cup his face to kiss the little mole near his eye and on the tip of his nose before finally meeting his lips. You pull away and position yourself between his legs before looking up at his face.

"I hope you still have enough energy, baby." You smile sweetly at him whilst pumping his hard cock. "Because we're not stopping until I say so."

a/n: thank you for reading! it's been a while since i last posted a smut, but i hope you enjoyed it hehe🫶🏻

[leighsartworks216]

Not Tonight. Not To You. Never Again.

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader (can possibly be read as platonic)

Something something Astarion would kill anybody who tries to take your drink at a party something something

I started this while sitting in the car doing laundry, and I'm finishing this while very sleepy. It was half proofread, again bc I'm sleepy

THIS FIC CONTAINS THEMES OF DATE-RAPE DRUGGING AND SEXUAL ASSAULT

Warnings: drugging, references to sexual assault, swearing, blood, murder, slight protective Astarion, no actual assault happens, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,374

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You blinked as the world tilted on its axis, blurring at the edges of your vision, before it stood upright again, only slightly hazy. Had you really had that many drinks tonight? It didn't seem like it. Maybe this tavern's brew was stronger than you were used to?

"Everythin’ alright? You look a bit sick."

You look up at Karlach with a reassuring grin. You hated to worry any of your friends, but least of all the tiefling. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and you'd hate to see it crack. "I'm fine. Think I should head to bed - this stuff is stronger than I thought it would be."

She frowned. "Really?" She peered into her tankard, confused. "Seemed a bit weak to me."

You chuckle. It sounded distant. "Guess I'm a bit of a lightweight." You push your mug away and stand on shaky legs, using the table for support. "Goodnight, everyone."

Those who hear you bid you goodnight as well, some raising their ales in gratitude and others teasing you about not being able to hold your liquor. Astarion stares at you like he's studying you, brow pinched tight. You offer him a smile, before doing your best to stumble toward the stairs.

Halfway there, a waiter comes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and smiling brightly. You recognized him through the fog in your vision; he'd been the one to serve you drinks. "Need a hand there, hero?"

You laugh, world spinning once more as you allow yourself to lean into his support. "A hero that can't hold their liquor," you drawl. "Some hero, eh?"

He chuckles by your ear. He bears most of your weight as he helps you up each well-worn step, steering you toward your room. How'd he know which one was yours? "I hardly think it affects the world's view of you," he assures. "After all, you did save Faerûn."

"It-" Your body lurched forward, all of your limbs turning to lead. The world continued to swirl and wave and twist, until you couldn't distinguish up from down or left from right. Black spots began dotting your vision, blocking out some of the vertigo. Your stomach churned, your head ached. "'t wasn' jus' me..."

"C'mon, love. Your room is just here. Let's get you to bed."

A bedroom spun in your vision, but not for long. The last thing you saw was the waiter's grinning face as you fell to the floor, too weak to stand any longer and too dizzy to stay upright if you had.

Where....

........... Astarion.........?

-

"Tav?" Something cold touches your face. "Darling, wake up."

"Mmnf..."

"That's it. You're safe now."

You blinked open your eyes but winced at the light that greeted you. You heard a soft hiss.

"Is that better?"

You tried again, and were grateful to find it was no longer so bright. You looked around, trying to get a sense of your surroundings.

"You're in your room." Astarion sneered, glaring at something on the floor. "But we should move you to mine before you try sleeping again.”

“Mm? Why..?” You groan as you sit up. Your body feels so heavy, like it was made entirely of stone. Astarion helped you up with a hand to your back. You followed where his gaze had been. Laying face down on the floor, in a puddle of blood, was… the waiter? You blinked stupidly at the corpse. “What happened?”

Once he was sure you wouldn’t fall backwards, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Bastard drugged you. Gods know what he would have done to you if I hadn’t followed you up.”

Your brain was still slow, trying to piece together what had happened before this. You remember celebrating a battle won. You’d bought drinks for everyone, and… You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as bile rose to your throat. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped. “I-I thought the drinks were just strong, I-”

He carefully touches your arm. “It’s not your fault, love. No doubt he’d gotten good at tricking people.”

You shook your head, looking at him with wide, lost eyes. “What if he’d drugged you? Or Karlach or Shadowheart or- or-!”

He scoffed in disbelief, nose scrunching. “You just got drugged and nearly assaulted, and all you’re worried about is what could have happened if it’d been one of us? Darling, please, have a little perspective.”

You grimace as you glance back at the body. The sight of the blood or the corpse itself doesn’t bother you anymore. But the thought of what could have happened sat thick and unpleasant in your stomach. You grab his hand from your arm and hold it in your lap, fiddling with his long fingers to distract yourself. “How did you know to… To follow?”

“Well, for one, I trust Karlach knows when an ale is strong. Two, I’ve seen you hold your own against her in your little drinking games before. And three…” He curls his fingers around your hands, stopping your fiddling and rubbing a thumb along your knuckles. “I’ve seen men like him play this same game before. Too many times. I wasn’t going to risk it happening to you, too.”

A chill runs through your body. You lean forward to press your forehead against his neck. He hesitantly brings up a hand to run along your back, holding you to him. “Thank you,” you murmur. You bury your face further into him. “Gods, I can’t believe I…” You sigh, soft and shaky, dread overwhelming you as the reality of what happened sunk in. “Thank you, Astarion.”

“As much as I’d love to sit here all night, listening to you praise me over and over for the hero I am,” he teases, earning a quiet huff from you, “you need to sleep. And not here.” He gently pulls you away from him and stands from the bed, squeezing your hands before he lets go. “We’ll just tuck you in down the hall, I’ll go downstairs and scold the others for being too careless, inform the innkeeper of his employee’s exploits - perhaps even get paid for doing so - and then we can get the Hells out of here come first light.”

You chuckled softly. He helped you stand, an arm around your waist keeping you steady as he walked you around the body and out the door. “And if I want you to stay?”

He hums as though the thought never crossed his mind, before sighing overdramatically. “Then I’ll just have to get paid for my bold rescue in the morning. I suppose it can wait until then. I won’t be cleaning up that mess anyway.”

He unlocks his door at the end of the hall and guides you to the bed, setting you down on the edge. You clumsily kick your boots off and he sets them by the door, toeing his off right next to them. You plop back into the pillows, giving in to the weight in your bones. He huffs a laugh at how pathetic you look, but it’s far more endearing than he wishes to admit.

You do your best to get comfortable under the thick duvet the inn provided, sinking into the warmth it offered. He easily slithered in beside you, touching you almost pensively as you turn into him and cuddle close to his chest. You’re so warm. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, the other draped over your waist, keeping you close. Keeping you safe.

Even just thinking about what could have happened if he hadn’t had the good sense to follow fills him with rage. He should have torn that bastard apart, piece by piece, until he only knows pain and remorse for every single victim that came before. But you’re safe, and that’s what really matters, more than his own revenge.

You press your nose against his neck, hot breaths fanning across his skin. He could almost feel the brush of your lips as you murmured another thank you. Your arms slipped around his middle, wrapping around him so you were as close as possible. You muttered another thanks, and another, and another, until exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you fell asleep in his arms.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted

[kisses4lao]

could u write sfw/nsfw hcs of raiden with a size kink maybeee👀

I had to look up how tall Raiden is bc in the new game he just looks like a short king THIS BITCH IS 6'2??????????

Frothing at the mouth rn

Tw/cw: AFAB reader, size kink(obviously), overstimulation, dacryfilia if you squint, nsfw and sfw, mirror sex mmmmm, belly bulge

Not proofread go fuck yourself

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sfw

Raiden is the type of guy to constantly put items on higher shelves so you can ask him for help.

He's also the type of guy to want to compare hand sizes whenever he can. He loves seeing how his rough, much bigger hands look in comparison to your small, softer hands.

God he'd love cooking with you. He'd adore standing behind you and and guiding your hands with his.

He's obsessed with the way he can pick you up and throw you around like you weigh nothing. To him, you don't.

He'd really enjoy getting matching couples pajama sets and then have you wear his set from time to time. Why? Because he likes seeing how big it is on you.

It's like that with all of his clothes, really. His shirts are like night gowns for you and he'd be lying if he said he didn't love seeing you in them.

You borrow his clothes so often that your wardrobe is practically his wardrobe. And he loves it.

Because of how he towers over you, he often just, touches you. Anywhere he can, really

He loves holding you by the waist and resting his head on your shoulder, though. Does his neck hurt like hell afterwards from bending down so much? Yeah. Is he gonna do it again? Absolutely.

Nsfw

He'd be SUCH a gentleman in bed, but he does lose control sometimes

I feel like he'd be very neutral on most sex positions. He doesn't have a preference, but he love the lotus

He'd love how your back is pressed against his chest while your thighs are on either side of his. Its the perfect position for him to feel every part of you.

The only downside, however, is he can't see your face. He loves seeing how your face contorts in pleasure as his thick cock drags it's way in and out of your pussy, but he can't in this position.

How does he solve this problem? Mirror sex. He isn't adamant on getting you to watch yourself while he's fucking you, he knows it must be embarrassing, but he's obsessed with watching you.

He can see everything thats happening, your face twisting in pleasure, the white ring forming at the bottom of his cock, but most importantly, the belly bulge.

Oh

My

God

The belly bulge.

Once it starts forming, he can't take his eyes off it. The thought of you being so small in comparison to him that his cock is making imprints in your tummy makes him lightheaded

This is where him losing control comes in. On rare occasions, usually when he comes back from training and missions, he'd be so worked up over the fact he couldnt see you, touch you, feel you.

You're doing you thing, getting into position, and he sees it. The belly bulge.

He goes beast mode dude.

He's instantly flipping you on your back and fucking you in missionary. I think he'd be a bit rough, mainly coming from his harsh pace, but nothing leaves his mouth except pleasurable moans and praise

His pace gets so fast and him constantly pressing down on said belly bulge makes you cum. Don't worry, he's right behind you, but he doesn't stop after one round

How can he when you look so good writhing underneath him?

You get overstimulated after a while because of how many times you already came. Raiden would feel bad, but he knows you want this, you'd use your safe word if you didn't.

So he continues. He usually only stops when your body goes limp and falls asleep from exhaustion. Hed kiss away all your tears that formed both during and after each session followed by him cleaning and dressing you.

Dressing you in what? One of his shirts. Nothing else. He likes it that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I'm getting so many good requests UGH if you guys do request anything pls remember it's taken me a bit to get to it 🙏🙏

[makethatelevenrings]

Reports and Renewal // S. Riley x f!reader

A/N: hiiiii consider this a 5k follower celebration!!! thank you!!! wtf!!! I am SLAMMED with life and work right now. I'm about to post this and go study some more but HI I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO MUCH.

I will hopefully be able to do more of a celebration/interactive follower thing once I absolutely dominate this test. Bc I will. (Manifesting!!) warnings: mentions of injuries (fractures, ligament tears) and fatigue, subtle misogyny, swearing but tbh if you're reading COD fanfics and are surprised by swearing...I can't help you

Two sharp raps against the wood of your door drew you away from the cursor blinking repeatedly and the slow creep of it across the page. It wasn’t your fault that it was taking you longer than usual. Only one of your hands was in commission right now thanks to a nasty fall during the last mission. The thought of the injury made your lips thin into a grimace as the sling on your shoulder dug into the tender skin there. A fractured radius and a torn ligament in your shoulder meant you would be stuck at a desk for about two months.

You shuffled the papers back into the manila folder and cleared your throat before calling out a brusque, “come in.”

While you were expecting someone to come in and add more to the growing piles of reports that you needed to type out. Since you weren’t able to be in the field, everyone on your team assumed that you would gladly take on their grunt work.

The massive form of Lieutenant Riley filled the doorframe and you instinctively glanced at his hands for some files, relieved to see something other than those fucking folders. But your brow raised as he stepped into your office and brandished what he held in his gloved hands.

“They gave me an extra sandwich by accident,” he said in lieu of an explanation. “Cook thinks I need to eat the whole fuckin’ Mess. Figured you’d need t’eat something since you weren’t there.”

You spared a glance at the clock on your computer and let out a noncommittal hum. Huh. Guess you were so focused on getting through all this work that you missed dinner call. That sparked your body into making you aware of the stiffness of your joints. You sat back against your chair, a small groan escaping you as your spine stretched and popped.

“Yeah, thanks.” You gestured with your uninjured hand for him to sit across from you. The lieutenant eased himself down into the small wooden desk chair and grimaced at the creak it emitted as it strained under his mass. He leaned forward and placed the sandwich on top of the file you had been working on before sitting back, eyeing the pile that had amassed in the corner of your desk.

“These all yours?” he grunted. You huffed out a laugh that turned into a triumphant cry when you successfully got the sandwich unwrapped.

“Clearly not considering I’m the only asshole around here who finishes their shit on time. Apparently desk duty means being the paperwork lackey. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on and brought me something to type up.”

His dark eyes studied the pile of papers and then he picked them up, thumbing through the paperwork. You didn’t worry about him looking at it. He was of equal rank as you and, while you weren’t 141, you operated in similar circles and collaborated on missions enough to know that he was a cold bastard, but he wouldn’t jeopardize anything.

“Any of these my guys?”

“Nah, MacTavish and Garrick would never.” You took a bite of the dry sandwich and nearly moaned. It was boring and plain and tasted a bit like sawdust, but you were starving. Simon silently nudged your water bottle closer to you and you nodded in thanks. He snapped the files close and set them back on the edge of the desk, the corner teetering off the side and nearly tipping over under the weight.

“Arm’s alright?” Ever the conscientious leader. The constant ache of your torn ligament and broken bone was frustrating, but it was a nice reminder that you were alive. The fall had been from a warehouse walkway when an assailant tossed his empty gun and instead went for a tackle that sent you both over the edge. You twisted your body to make sure he took the brunt of the fall, but your arm hit the ground first after he did. The evac had been a nightmare and couldn’t get in for three hours. Three hours of brutal pain radiating with every move as you and your team held back an onslaught of fire until the 141 was sent to finish business.

“I live to see another day,” you said, with both a hint of humor and the tension of your tentative morality lining your words. You sat back in your chair and winced as your arm jostled against your side.

“You should be resting,” he chastised.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you come back to work three hours after your appendix burst?”

His mask hid his face, but you could see the slight crinkle of his eyes and that was enough to confirm that the bastard was smirking. You had seen him walk out of medical after they dug two bullets out of his shoulder. There was a reason why the Ghost was such a legend. He didn’t answer but instead pointed at your food and you dutifully took another bite.

“Your team is a bunch of dicks,” he finally said. You bristled at his words and immediately went to defend your men, but he simply raised a hand to stop any arguments. That just made your skin prickle even more with indignation.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re good at what they do. But you’re better. Price has asked about bringing you onto our team.”

“Pretty sure I’d slow you down,” you muttered. Yeah, your team had no qualms in dropping piles of paperwork on your desk, leaving their shit in the gym for you to clean up, and made a point of never inviting you out after work hours. But you didn’t join the military to become best buddies with everyone. You were good at your job, but you weren’t task force material. The 141 were the guys that went in when no one else could. You were the person they sent in when it was a mid-level threat.

“Top of your recruitment class, high marks in everything except in things we can easily train you on. Besides, we got some demolition nuts already. Don’t need a third one of you or Price will go gray by next year. You’re one of the best analysts and have prepared more missions than most. Price thinks you should join us.”

You took a sip of your water to jostle the dryness out of your throat and then screwed the cap back on. Your eyes caught his and you met his stare head on. The Ghost should scare you. He should make you avert your gaze and apologize for daring to look.

He had never made you feel that way. From the moment you were assigned to this base, to this unit, to this office, the Ghost had been distant but decently nice. You had seen him ream out privates for forgetting to tuck their pants into their boots before. Hell, you could hear him yelling at privates and cadets as they attempted the obstacle courses in the pouring rain while you were inside. But he had never raised his voice with you. 

Sure, he had been firm and even snapped once or twice, but he hadn’t yelled the way he had at the kid who tracked mud through the halls last week. Simon made him get a bucket and a brush and to scrub the floors by hand so the janitors wouldn’t have to clean up his mess.

“You’re an established team already. I would just throw off the dynamics.”

“Garrick and Soap already agree they want you in,” he retorted.

Maybe you had a concussion too. Your mind was fuzzy with the details when the 141 came to evac your team. The pain had started to make your brain go foggy when they breached the building. How did you get onto the heli? Surely you walked, right? But you can also remember someone shaking you. That hurt like a bitch. Your team hadn’t given a shit about you at that point when they were busy saving their own hides. 

“What do you think about me joining?” The words left you before you could reel them back. You wanted to know. You were terrified of the answer. He had given you this hope, but was he cruel enough to take it away? Was this the Ghost toying with you? You wished you could see his face.

He merely stood and grabbed the stack of files from your desk, nodded curtly, and exited your office without another word. You waited until the door shut behind him before you let out a long, frustrated breath.

“That motherfucker,” you swore under your breath. Fucking hell, your shoulder ached. Your head ached too. You let it fall against the cool wood of your desk and shut your eyes in an attempt to ward off the exhaustion, pain, and embarrassment that now burned its way through your chest.

Might as well get this goddamn fucking report done.

You sat back up, pushed it all aside, compartmentalized, breathed. You opened the folder and began to peck at the keyboard once more.

Once it was done and sent to the appropriate COs and channels, you grabbed your bag and made your way down the hall towards the Mess. You were almost out of the office quadrant when a gruff voice called your name. Captain Price exited his office and extended his hand, luckily the opposite of your uninjured one so it wasn’t an awkward shake.

“Got your transfer paperwork drawn up and ready, if you want to sign it before you head out. Get you over to our team faster. I’ve heard great things from your CO and I’ve seen the work you’ve done in the field. It’ll be nice having someone more level headed than those muppets.” He paused and an almost pained look took over his face. “How likely are you to accidentally set off an explosive just for shits and giggles?”

You stifled a laugh and followed him into his office so you could sign those papers.

“Simon has told me what he’s seen during your training. You’ll be a great asset to have on the 141,” Price continued once you signed your name without hesitation. You paused once his words sunk in and looked up at your new boss.

“Ghost has talked about me?”

“Christ, I think he might be ready to make some fucking t-shirts with your face on it. Thought he damn near ripped the spines out of those boys who had you doing their reports. Don’t tell him I told you that. He’d take a right fucking piss out of me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, sir,” you assured.

“Right, dismissed then. Be here at 0700 tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if you’re on IR, we’ll find something for you that isn’t pecking the keys until your eyes fall out from staring at that screen.” You nodded and didn’t even try to fight the smile that crept onto your face. It lingered on your face, right next to the phantom touch of the Ghost’s gloves when he grasped your face the moment they found you in that warehouse.

[tervaneula]

u said leoichi drabble prompt request. consider. one injured and the other protecting them and then the injured one has to calm them down bc 'they're okay, really, promise, rest now'

OKAY SO this fused with a ghost of an idea I've had for a while and it ended up being a bit more serious than the prompt called for and a lot longer than just a drabble. (It's ~1120 words.) CW: blood and injury

Also I made a silly header thing I don't know what to do with, so I'm putting it here since this fic doesn't come with art of its own :'3

“Yui, I’m okay–” 

The rabbit turns his head to look at him, furious. 

“I heard your shell crack, Leonardo, and I'm not an idiot! Now stay down and let me handle this!” 

He falls quiet for a moment before redirecting his glare towards their adversary and then adds a muted, “Please.” 

There's no compromising with Yuichi in this state, apparently, and Leonardo stays right where he got crushed between metal claws and the concrete, splayed on the ground next to those very same claws which had gotten swiftly cut from the wrist for their transgressions.

He does roll onto his side to get his body weight off his shell, and yeah, alright, one or more of the old cracks that never healed properly must have split open again. It's tough to breathe and his back feels… His kimono is sticking to his shell and his back feels wet now that he's paying attention, and that. That is not good. 

Just his luck to run into a massive mecha wreaking havoc on an otherwise lovely day, huh. He wasn't even supposed to be on patrol and thus is embarrassingly swordless. 

Good thing that his date and their resident samurai always carries his. 

The slider watches as Yuichi does quick work of the metal hunk's wiring behind its knees, his frighteningly sharp katana slicing through the cables like butter. The mech falls with a ground-shaking rumble, unable to rise again, arm flailing as it tries to catch the rabbit. It's no use, Yuichi is much smaller and faster – and as soon as he reaches the mech's head, it's already rolling. The construct immediately loses power and Yuichi wrenches the windowed hatch in its chest open. Turns out there's no pilot, just a program-operated dashboard, and he makes sure that none of the controls are functional after he's done with them. 

Leonardo thinks he could watch Yuichi trash villains all day long, he's practically mesmerised by the strength hidden in that soft frame despite his shell throbbing unpleasantly in tandem with his heartbeat. He sighs, lovestruck. 

As his final move, Yuichi thrusts his katana into the heart of the mecha and Leonardo sees a spray of ink-black oil splash all over Yuichi's face and the front of his kimono. It makes him laugh and he realises his mistake too late, his lungs struggling to draw breath again as he finally gets hit with the pain, his body trying to stop him from moving; from causing any more damage. Shit, shit, shit. 

He had hoped he wouldn’t need to bother any of his brothers today since he was supposed to spend the whole day with Yuichi but he knows to pick his battles, now. He opens the comm link embedded in his prosthetic, contacting someone who he knows will pick up. 

“Che~ello!” comes the cheerful answer in just a few seconds, and Leonardo can't help but smile. 

“Mikeyyy, hermano, I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he wheezes, feeling the shift in his little brother's energy as soon as he hears the strain in his voice. 

“Leo? Are you okay?” 

“Not really, no,” Leonardo grunts. “Got into a scuffle with some big haywire robot– don’t worry, that’s taken care of. I suspect Donnie will want to scrap it for parts. Um. My shell’s– my shell’s cracked though.” 

Leonardo can vividly imagine the colour draining from Michelangelo's face and it would be funny if he wasn't acutely aware of a broken shell coming with the very real possibility of his innards turning into outnards. 

“I'm calling Draxy. Stay put, I'll get Lee to pick you up.” 

“Right,” Leonardo sighs, the line going out just when Yuichi is finally done with the mech and rushing to his side, face haphazardly wiped from oil. His gaze is sharp as he kneels next to him, sweaty and out of breath, and Leonardo thinks he looks like a knight. Or maybe like a samurai of the old, in this case. 

“There’s my hero,” he coos before Yuichi can get a word out and the rabbit’s brow furrows. 

“Don’t start,” he snaps but his tone softens almost immediately, “I saw you calling someone. It’s bad, isn’t it? It… it looks really bad.” 

“Yeeeah, this kimono is definitely ruined,” Leonardo laments, “unless you know how to, gh, get blood out of corduroy? No? Or the obi?” 

Yuichi stares. 

“A– a shame, really, I did like this one a lot–” 

“Leonardo!” Yuichi interrupts him and grabs his bicep, looking two seconds away from crying. Leonardo frowns. He knows he’s getting a little delirious but he was sincerely trying his best to lift his mate’s mood. 

“Leon, please, you’re rambling. Is someone coming? Can I do anything?” 

“‘m not rambling,” Leonardo grumbles, hissing when he fills his lungs again. “Leo’s coming to get us, Draxy– Draxum will treat the shell. And no, better keep the obi in place until we get to the medbay.” 

Yuichi’s shoulders slump and he sighs, most likely relieved that he’s not going to have to figure out how to deal with a cracked shell. Leonardo does not like the lingering worry in Yuichi’s gaze one bit, though, and he offers him a grin. It’s a little shaky but whatever. 

“Heeey, bunbun. Listen. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. I’ll be fine.” 

Yuichi gives him an honest-to-God kicked-puppy look and Leonardo thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life. He almost tells him so but Yuichi cups his cheek and his forced grin melts away into surprised silence. 

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Yuichi murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. The slider’s eyes flutter shut and he lifts his hand to hold onto Yuichi’s wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I mean it. I should’ve been more careful.” 

Yuichi huffs and leans away to gently bump their foreheads together. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Maybe, but ’m still sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Yuichi says, exasperated. “You should know that at this point, I’ll always worry.” 

Leonardo grins and this time it’s genuine. Breathing in his partner’s scent is like a balm to him, even if it’s tinged with the bitterness of motor oil, even if his body currently thinks that breathing is overrated. Even if he just got called an idiot by none other than said partner. 

“Raincheck on the date?” he mumbles, and finally he gets a chuckle out of the rabbit. Yuichi straightens his back and flicks him on the nose. 

“Like you even needed to ask. Idiot.” 

Before Leonardo can express his displeasure of being called an idiot for a second time there’s the familiar electric hum of a portal opening behind him, and someone whistles. 

“Sheesh, old man. That kimono is definitely ruined.” 

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Hi! Can you please write part 3 of bale batman x assistant reader as his wife? And how he handles jealousy after their marriage? Thank you 😊

Hello!!

I actually wrote something about this a little while ago, but because I feel like just linking the post is a bit of an asshole move, I'll add some of my thoughts!

I hope that's okay <3

Here's my previous post :)

~Fi 🐝

(My inspiration for Bruce has been dwindling, I desperately need to watch the movies again)

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

He will always, ALWAYS call you his wife. More than your actual name. He has to keep reminding people that you're unavailable and that you're his and his alone. Bruce perks up immediately whenever your name is mentioned. He's policing all of his employees at this point lmao

maybe someone talks about you to a coworker about how innovative you're thinking for the company is, that you're kind and exactly what this industry needs and Bruce just pops up out of nowhere like "who are you talking about? Hm? Oh, my beautiful, amazing, perfect wife? I couldn't agree more."

He gets so stealthy after being in the batman business that he scares them half to death because he's just there all of a sudden. After hearing some of the complaints the employees make (you're not at work as often anymore after Bruce insisted you focus on some hobbies instead) you're seriously contemplating putting a little bell on him just so you don't have to worry about anyone getting a heart attack.

He always has to be touching you in some kind of way. His go to is a hand on the small of your back or on your thigh when you're sitting down, he loves holding your hand, too. His thumb will brush over the cool metal of your wedding band and it puts his mind at ease.

Every single employee knows not to flirt with you, even as a joke. Not after Jake suddenly disappeared after Bruce caught him sweet talking you... (he may have a received a strongly worded letter from his landlord ((Bruce)) and, what do you know, for some reason, any other living opportunity in Gotham is unavailable right now)

He brings you flowers at least once a week (or until the ones he gifted you before can't hold their own anymore and wilt). They're always fragrant and bright in color, whatever is in season right now. And they stand nicely on your desk in a beautiful crystal vase that catches the light perfectly. He catches himself looking at them more than he he would like to admit.

Or, more specifically, he wants to see if he can catch you admiring them. He's gotten a new appreciation for these small things since you came into his life. They way you cup the delicate blossom and inhale its sweet scent is a picture he will dream of forever.

Bruce makes sure that you're only addressed as Mrs. Wayne (unless it's someone close like Luscius or a very nice coworker of yours) making it clear to everyone, again, that you're his. He gifts you a necklace with his name on it, which you wear proudly, and Bruce can't help but grin when he sees his name glint in the sunlight against your skin.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm so sorry for kinda half-assing my Bruce posts lately, but I can barely write anymore 😭

I usually write at night but I'm tired then too so I'm like "Oh, I'll just write during the day." BUT GUESS WHAT I'M ALSO TIRED DURING THE DAY

Fucking iron deficiency istg

I basically sleep all the time and when I do write, it's not a lot bc I'm literally falling sleep halfway through so yeah

[atinycafe]

so I found out that I'm the giggly, wobbly (wobbly as in i literally cannot walk for shit BAHAHISNFKXDN), but also quiet drunk from when i drank a little too much one night and I was wondering how ateez would handle a drunk like that bcs I can't stop thinking about it 🤭

ATZ WITH UNUSUALLY CALM DRUNK READER — headcanons

pairing: ateez x drunk!reader genre: fluff wrd cnt: 2.0k author's note: SEDRTFYGUKH BE CAREFUL GIRL, funny how my most popular post is about reader being drunk but i dont even drink alcohol irl, aniwayys i feel like i fucked up your ask but hope you like it still ⸂⸂⸜(രᴗര๑)⸝⸃⸃ also why is wooyo such a hater in this post, im living for it masterlist

　　○˳　　　　　　hongjoong

you feel a gentle hand on your thigh and you glance over to see hongjoong beside you, his worried eyes peering through the kohl makeup. he moves his hand from your thigh to the back of your head, caressing the back of your neck, his fingers tangling with the clasp of your necklace.

"you okay there, baby?" his soothing voice reaches your ear, even amidst the booming bass playing in the club.

"mmhm," you nod simply, the soft buzz of alcohol making your thoughts feel like they're moving in slow motion. you nuzzle your face against his shoulder, feeling sleepiness creeping in, making you hesitant to speak.

"you're usually… louder," he asks, noticing how you're staring blankly ahead. confused, you blink slowly, not fully processing his words, your mouth slightly agape. hongjoong brings a hand up to gently close your mouth, his thumb gliding over your glossy lips.

"… and you're so cute," you mumble, and hongjoong is taken aback, a rosy hue appearing on his cheeks. he chuckles in disbelief before leaning in for a sweet, small kiss.

"you think i'm cute?" he chuckles, gently placing his palm against your cheek, his eyes crinkling with delight as he catches your fleeting gaze. you nod quietly, letting your hand rest on his thigh as you slowly trace a path up to his face, before leaning in to plant another kiss on his lips, "nah baby you're the cutest."

　　○˳　　　　　　seonghwa

"getting shy already?" seonghwa whispers in your ear, pulling you closer by the belt of your low-rise jeans. you've been dancing with him for a few minutes now; it's become your usual thing whenever you're both at the club. you always look forward to dancing with him, but tonight, you've had a bit too much to drink, and now you're seeking solace, hiding your face in his chest.

"hwa, 'm tired i wanna sit," you say, looping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as you lean on him for support. he responds by holding you even tighter, his hand sneaking around your waist.

"baby's not feeling it tonight? let's get you somewhere more silent," he suggests, gently guiding you through the moving bodies. finally, you settle in a more secluded area, and he helps you sit down before taking a seat next to you.

"you good?" he asks, his eyes on you as you plot yourself on the cold table with your head tilted to the side, looking up at him through your eyelashes. he places a comforting hand on your head, patting it gently.

you take his hand and rest it against your smushed cheek separating it from the table, enjoying the cool sensation of the many rings on his fingers. he chuckles at your gesture.

"sweetheart remind me not to let you drink that much next time."

　　○˳　　　　　　yunho

"what're you staring at?" yunho slides a hand over your shoulders, looking curiously at the half-empty glass that has captured your attention for the past few minutes.

"puppy," he playfully nudges his head against yours, trying to bring you out of your daze when you don't respond. he pouts, not used to being ignored by you.

with a tongue-clicking sound, he grabs the glass from your hand, and you gasp, attempting to reach for it, but he holds it up higher, causing you to lean forward and accidentally fall onto his lap. now that he has you there, he smirks mischievously and drinks from the cup right in front of you until it's empty.

you frown at his theatrics, but he sighs loudly and places the glass back on the table beside you, then starts rubbing your back.

"what's wrong, tiny? don't feel like talking to me?" he smirks as you turn away, reaching for his own glass. however, yunho quickly grabs your wrists in his hands.

"uh-uh, you've had enough tonight. you're not even paying attention to me anymore." his whining matches yours, and you finally calm down when you see his pout. you peck his lips softly once and then again, ignoring the dramatic retching sounds coming from wooyoung behind you as yunho presses a hand on the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

　　○˳　　　　　　yeosang

yeosang, being a silent drinker himself, finds your hyped-up drunk self to be a perfect match for him. but when he sees you sitting there quietly, it puzzles him. despite the soft buzz from the alcohol, he senses that something might be bothering you.

he draws you closer, and you enjoy the sensation of his leather jacket against your bare skin. he absentmindedly plays with a curl of your hair as he bends down slightly, looking into your eyes from the side.

"what's wrong?" he whispers, observing your reaction carefully. however, you can only look at him with confusion because…

"what do you mean, what's wrong? nothing's wrong, i'm good, you're good, we're good." you answer, your words slurring as you hide your face in his jacket, sneaking a hand under his shirt, feeling his body.

"ah, my baby's totally wasted," he smiles, tilting your chin up to get a better look into your eyes. "do you wanna go home? i'll get us an uber right now."

"yeah, i'd like that," you reply, and he drops a kiss on your lips before taking out his phone to book the uber. you rest your head on his chest, watching as he arranges the ride for you. when he's done, you turn to him with big doe eyes, and your bottom lip juts out a bit.

"sangie," you say.

"what?" he blushes under your unwavering gaze and instinctively gets closer to you, feeling your warm breath on his face.

"you got games on your phone?"

　　○˳　　　　　　san

two fingers snap in front of your face, and you flinch. you turn to see the cause of the sound, and there's san, looking all pouty.

"what's up, baby? not having fun?" he takes your face in his big, rough hands, rubbing his thumbs reassuringly on your cheekbones. "we can head home if you want."

"honestly, san, i'm so drunk right now, i can't make out a word you're saying," you mumble, the words coming out slurred from your lips, making san's mouth form an "o."

he giggles at you, his flushed skin showing he's also quite tipsy. his dimples pop out, and you can't help but place a soft kiss on them. this makes him giggle even harder as he pulls you closer into a tight hug. san always gets clingy when he's drunk, and you both usually turn into the giddiest mess, but tonight you're too intoxicated to act like that.

"baby you don't have to talk, 's okay just kiss me," he says, not even waiting for you to make the first move. he starts peppering your face with thousands of little kisses. when he pulls back, you notice the glitter from your makeup adorning his plush lips.

"you got sum on your lips," you absent-mindedly mutter. he wipes at his lips, asking, "oh, where?" before you move closer, saying, "lemme get it for you."

and with that, you drop one last kiss, which turns into a full-on makeout session, making wooyoung groan disgustingly next to you.

　　○˳　　　　　　mingi

"princess, you don't look so good," mingi remarks, concern evident on his face as he notices you absent-mindedly fiddling with your fingers and your unfocused gaze. you turn towards him, briefly closing your eyes.

"do you," you start, trying to get your thoughts across clearly despite feeling a bit tipsy, "do you wanna hold hands?"

mingi takes a moment to grasp your words before he lets out a little laugh. he places his hand gently on your thigh, palm up, inviting you to take it. with a bashful smile, your unsteady fingers find his, intertwining with his own.

"'f course, i wanna hold hands. why wouldn't i want to hold hands with the prettiest girl in the room?" he says, his smile widening as you shyly look away. he didn't expect this reaction from you while being a bit drunk. mingi brings your hand to his lips, planting soft kisses on each knuckle, causing you to hide your face with your free hand.

"you're sooo drunk right now, usually you'd be grinding on me, but you wanna hold hands? and you're acting all shy about it, that's new." he playfully teases, squeezing your much smaller hand in his, enjoying the cute size difference.

"shut up," you mumble, attempting to withdraw your hand, but he doesn't let you. instead, he pulls you closer and places an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, whispering close to your ear.

"if i knew i'd be seeing you actin' like that, i would've gotten you on that henny earlier."

　　○˳　　　　　　wooyoung

"pretty come sit here," wooyoung says, spreading his legs out, causing san and yunho to grumble and move away. he pats his strong thigh, inviting you with a crooked smile, and you gently sit down, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he places a warm hand on your covered thigh, and the fabric hardly stops his warmth from reaching your skin. resting his face in the crook of your neck, his hair tickles you slightly. he playfully nibbles your collarbone before planting a sweet kiss on it, leaving a little red mark behind.

"why are you in the corner all alone, you're not having fun, mmh?" he asks in a soft voice, looking up at you from below your chin. you pout a little, enjoying the way wooyoung's soft voice soothes your ears after enduring the loud club music. "a beautiful girl like you should be dancing in the middle of the club."

"the alcohol's really strong here," you whine softly, and wooyoung pecks your bottom lip. he pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his own shining, as if he wants to remember your face forever.

"the alcohol's not strong, you're just a lightweight," he chuckles, making fun of you, which makes you grumble and hide your face in his neck, not wanting to be teased anymore. "come on, pretty, let me see your face. can't hide it from me, you'll make me cry."

"i hate you," you whisper, before giving in to temptation and pecking his soft lips. he smiles during the kiss, his hands gently caressing your legs.

"wrong, you're so in love me with me." as you nod against his head, he lets out a deep laugh, kissing your lips once again, pulling you even closer to him. "one more kiss, please?"

"i can't stand you."

"that's why you're sitting on my lap."

　　○˳　　　　　　jongho

you're snuggled up close to jongho, who's bantering with hongjoong in a boisterous manner. when your head rests on his shoulder, he glances at you and pulls you even nearer by wrapping an arm around your waist. with a sweet peck on your head, he greets you with a laid-back "hey."

"hey," you reply, gazing at him as if he's the most captivating thing in the world.

he asks, humming out, "you doin' okay? i haven't seen you dance at all."

feeling his chest vibrating against you adds to the charm of the moment as you answer, "'m doin' okay." jongho can't help but smile, finding your current state of calmness at the club adorable yet novel. it's not something he's seen before, but he definitely likes it.

"how many drinks did you have tonight?" he raises an eyebrow and chuckles when you count your drinks on your fingers. eight fingers are raised, indicating the extent of your indulgence.

"that much." you mumble absent-mindedly, prompting him to lovingly scrunch his nose at you. he takes one of your hands, bringing it to his lips, where he gently pecks two of your manicured nails.

turning to hongjoong, he asks for a glass of water, which his friend agrees to and glances down at you, slouching contentedly on jongho's shoulder.

"now that we're alone, i can finally do this," jongho murmurs, placing a hand on your face and gently brushing away the hair obscuring your eyes.

"do wha—" you start to ask, but he interrupts with a long, lingering kiss on the lips, savoring the taste of alcohol in your mouth. his tongue glides from the roof to the bottom, teasing and dancing with yours, leaving both of you breathless and wanting more.

"usually, you're the one pushing me to kiss you in front of everyone. never thought i'd miss it," he admits with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

[raayllum]

Do you think Callum will do dark magic again?

Oh yeah, not a doubt in my mind. This is for 3 main reasons:

1) You don't have a character say "But beware, if you ever do dark magic again, the darkness will overwhelm and corrupt you" and escalate the stakes of usage unless you're going to go there. It's kind of like how I know Callum is going to be possessed Again at one point (s7 dark my beloved) precisely because he's worried about it and more than that, that he's brought another character (Rayla) into the fold with a decision to make. No reason to have setup and then no payoff

2) Unless Callum does dark magic again, Aaravos can't possess him again. And as previously mentioned, Callum has to get possessed unless they want to throw away multiple episodes (4x04, 4x05, 4x07, 5x04, 5x08, all S6 + orb shots, 6x03) out the window. Ergo, he has to do dark magic again. Setup like this (i.e. Rayla as Callum's light being hinted at in framing in s2 and then much more overtly in s4 before being brought mostly home in s6) always comes back around in some manner, just gotta look for it

3) Viren parallels. Viren and Callum have always had oppositional (arc 1) and then mirrored (switching) foil arcs throughout the show (think Callum with wings vs Viren falling to his death in 3x09, or Viren swearing dark magic off in 5x09 and Callum having opened that door back up again an episode prior, etc). Viren, as stated, had sworn off dark magic saying he would never ever do it again, nor did he want to do it in 6x08 for a multitude of reasons.

However, someone he loved (Soren) as well as the extenuating circumstances caused him to use dark magic as a full on sacrifice that likewise only sacrificed himself. A couple episodes we had Callum 'fix' the hole dark magic had made inside him, but if he's following Viren's path, there's two likely angles: the first is that he, like Viren, will use dark magic even after trying so hard to rid himself of it (the mirrored arc). The second, overlapping angle is that Callum will refuse to sacrifice his heart (switching) because his heart is Rayla.

'I will think of you under every full moon. Please don’t let this hurt too much. But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always.' —Dear Callum

Kinda like how Aaravos demanded that Viren should make the sacrifice in 5x09, and Viren refused vs Rayla demanding that Callum should make the sacrifice in 6x03 (and Finnegrin a bit honestly) and Callum inevitably refusing cause Rayla can't permanently die lmao.

Other:

There's also the unsavoury implication that "restores bodies to spirits" spell Callum did in 5x09 has unique associations with the dark ritual spell Claudia did in killing Sir Sparklepuff that was undeniably dark magic usage.

The coin has been seemingly wiped clean now that Runaan is out (though maybe there's the symbol still on the other side?) but it does make me wonder of a potential plotline where Callum knew ahead of time, or belatedly, that this spell would require something adjacent to dark magic and he's done it, but the corruption Kosmo spoke of is gradual, making him more irritated, paranoid, etc. like the King of a 1000 Eyes that Amaya talked about. I think that'd be really interesting

The indirectness / the fact we'd only know it'd Happened retroactively makes me lean that we'll outright see another blatant usage in S7 since that's more Dramatic (which I've always been in favour of Callum viewing "I get possessed again bc I make a 'bad' choice and hand myself over to Aaravos" as a sacrifice of himself into "i'm already dead so kill me" territory). And if he breaks his promise to Rayla that he won't pick her over the greater good, then she can break her promise to him that she'll kill him (this is exactly beat for beat what I've wanted since s4 dropped and even before tbh)

TLDR; Absolutely Yes. S7 being Book Seven: Dark only adds to this and the stakes / set up are all there. I'm pumped

[katz-rambles]

Hii could I request a fic with Copia where his girlfriend is a single mother and is scared to tell him that she has a child bc she thinks that he'll leave her.

Yeah, ofcc!! It's not super long but I hope it's good!

(fluff and comfort, fem!reader, I think this is it?)

The words get caught in your throat, and you're not sure how to tell him. Would he leave you? In your heart, you know he won't. But the thoughts that plague your mind tell you he will. You hear the creak of the chair and soon a dip in the bed beside you as Copia wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. You lean your head back to rest on his chest and sigh, “maybe, it is my way of asking, or maybe not. Who knows.” You tease, finally finding a response, and he scoffs, lightly punching your arm with a laugh.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

“What do you think about kids?” You ask, your voice ringing out through the quiet of your shared bedroom. The question lingered for a few seconds, the silence deafening, before Copia answered. “I don't hate them,” he answers, not looking up from the stack of paperwork on the desk. “Amore Mio, is this your way of asking if we should have kids?” He chuckles and finally looks up, leaning back in his chair. You scoff when he gives you a suggestive look, and he laughs, moving back to finish the paperwork at his desk.

As the sun slowly starts to set and the room dims, you turn to see Copia fast asleep, yet you can't bring yourself to relax enough to fall asleep. Maybe you'll tell him tomorrow, but what if he's not ready. You can't stop the thoughts swarming in your mind, and you rub your temples to try and push the thoughts away. “What's wrong, tesoro?” Copias voice pulls you back down to reality. He pulls you close once more, resting his chin on the crown of your head and then placing a soft kiss to it. His fingers are tracing shapes into your arm, and you close your eyes. “There's something I need to tell you,” you start, feeling like there's something in your throat that's stopping you from speaking, “I'll tell you tomorrow,” you smile at him and you can feel him nod, giving one last kiss before he falls back asleep. There's no going back now. What's done is done. Hopefully, he has a good reaction. All you can do is hope.

—

You managed to wake up before him, way too early. The sun's just rising, despite it still being dark in the room. Your nerves are on fire, and you feel like you're going to vomit. You'll tell him after breakfast, maybe then you'll feel a bit less anxious.

The whole time you were in the dining hall, your mind was clouded. You could barely hear what the sisters beside you were talking about. “Did you hear?” One of them gently shakes you, awaiting a response. All you can do is shake your head in response. She smiles and explains to you the gossip of this week, and for a half hour, your worries were lifted.

Whenever you look over at Copia, it seems like he's already looking at you. It's sweet, but every time your eyes meet, you feel all the worries come rushing back. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, you could just tell him you forgot what you wanted to tell him, maybe he'll believe that. It's worth a shot.

“So, what was that all about? Being so mysterious last night.” Copia comes behind you and kisses your shoulder. You swallow down your nerves and take a deep breath. The plan you had made at breakfast seems to fall down the drain when he asks. There's no way he'd believe you. You open your mouth and close it, like some stupid fish, you don't know what to say. But, there's not a better way to say it, so you decide to tell him, and not sugar coat your words. “There's something you should know, I know that you may not be ready for kids, but-” you cut off your sentence and bury your face in your hands, Copia moves so he's in front of you and pulls your hands down. “I'm a mom, I have a kid. She's only five. But I have a kid.” You finish with a shaky breath. Hot teats prick your eyes as your mind prepares for the worst. Instead, you feel a kiss to your forehead. “Okay, so we'll raise her together.” You can feel Copias lips curl into a smile against your forehead as he speaks. He pulls you close to him and chuckles. “I meant it when I said I don't hate kids. They can be annoying, but not annoying enough that I'm not going to help. We're in this together, tesoro.” He says, rubbing your back. When he finishes speaking, you can feel the weight lifted off your shoulder. Maybe your mind was just working overtime. He's not leaving you anytime soon, and you just know that he's going to make an amazing father.