#runs surprisingly fast in those heels

[bibliosims]

@windbrook's SLASHED day 07 — THE BAD GIRL .

yasmin naqvi (deceased)

#runs surprisingly fast in those heels #but not fast enough #goes down with a fight !! claws tf out of the killer's face #*yasmin naqvi #windbrookslashed #mine #cas #challenges

[in-another-april]

─ desire | s.r

summary/prompt + genre - reader is down bad distracted by spencer during work | suggestive(ish) fluff

warnings - ending alludes to smut, making out

wc - 804

notes - this is literally just me shamelessly thirsting over spencer for 800 words im not sorry

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Since the day you met Spencer, there hasn’t been a moment you haven’t found him overwhelmingly attractive in all aspects. You were sure your dire levels of infatuation would slow down once you started dating, but even now it almost feels impossible not to practically swoon every time your eyes meet.

From his dorky dress shirts paired with his dark blazer and perpetually crooked ties, those honey-brown eyes that are constantly swimming with emotion, up to his gelled hair that only you have the privilege of running your fingers through as he cuddles up to you before bed every night, you’re infinitely grateful you get to call him yours. What’s more, that’s only covering his physical attributes, as you’re sure if you start thinking about everything you like about his personality you’ll be thinking for hours, something you’d be more than okay with doing if you didn’t have work to do.

It feels as though it hurts to tear your eyes away from him, but you don’t have much of a choice if you want to avoid being reprimanded by Hotch for straying from your tasks. It’s a relatively laid-back casework day at work, something you’d appreciate for its simplicity compared to field cases. That is, it would be easy, if your mind wasn’t stubbornly reverting back to thoughts of Spencer every time you tried to focus on your work. It’s an added level of torture knowing he’s right there at the desk next to you, flipping through his files effortlessly, unaware of the battle over him occurring in your head.

You finally manage to force your focus onto your work, only to be interrupted moments later by Spencer standing up from his desk and heading towards the coffee maker, your gaze following him the entire time. You mentally curse yourself for acting like a lovesick teenager whose thoughts revolve around their partner like they’re the sun in their solar system, and you have to act surprised when Spencer places a cup of coffee on your desk as if your eyes weren’t trained on his movements since he left his desk.

“I thought you might need some more coffee,” He speaks, bringing his own cup to his lips. “To finish all of that, I mean.” You follow his stare to the stack of files adorning your desk, mouth gaping as you notice how much taller it is compared to everybody else’s, never realizing just how fast time flies when you’re daydreaming about your boyfriend. “You okay? I can take some of those for you if you want.” He offers, the gesture unintentionally making the situation harder, causing your heart swell with love even more than before.

“You don’t have to.” You shake your head, biting your lip. “I’ve got it, really.” You roll your eyes as you see him swipe a few of your files off the top of your stack anyway, giving your shoulder a loving squeeze before taking off back to his desk. You mumble your thanks for both the coffee and him lightening your file load before returning your focus to your papers as best as you can.

Despite how you (surprisingly) make it to the end of the day with minimal distracting thoughts, you’re still as eager to get home as you were before, knowing the car ride home is going to feel excruciatingly long. You bounce impatiently on your heels as you wait for Spencer to pack up, practically yanking him to the elevator and ignoring the look Morgan and Emily share from your actions.

As soon as you make it past the threshold of your shared apartment, you allow yourself a breath of relief to leave your lips before promptly smashing them onto Spencer’s as you press his back against the front door, reveling in the shocked noise he makes upon impact. Despite his initial surprise, he tilts his head to return the kiss, trying to keep up with your fast pace as he cups your face in his hands. Your breath hitches in your throat at the feeling of his soft skin, eyes squeezed closed as your tongue moves to part his lips. It doesn’t get far, though, and you whine at the loss of contact as he pulls away to breathe.

“Where, uh-” he starts, clearing his throat, “Where did that come from?” He asks, face flushed and breathing heavily as he presses your foreheads together.

Your eyes immediately flit away from his, uncharacteristically shy as if you weren’t just sticking your tongue down his throat, “I just… I need you.” Is what you settle on, mind too fuzzy to think of a more eloquent explanation as your hands move to grip his arms.

His face flushes a deeper shade, moving your face to look at him again as he stutters out an, “I’m all yours.” before leaning in again.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #x reader

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

okok so i was listening to remains of the day and i could not stop thinking of corpsegroom!eddie and victor!steve from @undreaming-fanfiction's Corpse Groom AU

Aneta, ilysm!! i hope you don't mind me adding onto your au!!! 🫶

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Steve awoke slowly, blinking up at three (surprisingly) familiar faces. 

His kids.

Okay, not actually his kids, but the ones he took care of not that long ago. They had the same sort of blue tinge to their skin as Eddie did, but it was still them.

Wait...Eddie!

Steve sat up, way too fast, causing his head to spin.

“Whoa, slow down Steve.”

“Dustin? Dustin, what’s happening? You died! Years ago!” Steve frantically looks over the round faced boy, looking for any indication that this really wasn’t Dustin, but nope. He still looks exactly the same from the top of his curly-haired head right down to his feet.

“Yeah, I did. It’s not that big of a deal.” Dustin waves his hand nonchalantly and sits back on his heels from where he’d been kneeling over Steve.

“Not that–Dusty, buddy, I was crushed when you died. When all three of you did.” Steve looks at the other two, a red-headed young girl named Max, and the tall, lanky, and kind, Will. “I couldn’t believe you were all gone..”

“Well, it’s not like we meant to.” Max gripes at him, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of…wherever this is.

She’s right, of course, the sickness that had shot through the kids of their small town had taken many under its cloak, but luckily only scurried away to the afterlife with a handful. Steve had found out half of his beloved group of kids (friends?) he’d watch over passed when he and his parents returned from holiday. Having skipped over the short-lived plague by happenstance.

He would’ve taken any of their places in a heartbeat.

“O-of course,” Steve stutters out, “I didn’t..”

“It’s okay Steve, we know you didn’t mean anything by it.” Will pats his leg and stands up, offers Steve a hand. “But the real question is, why did Eddie drag you down here.”

Steve lets Will pull him up, and he’s surprisingly strong, maybe it’s a symptom of being dead. Undead? Do you get stronger when you un-die?

“Eddie…Eddie! Where’s Eddie?” Steve looks around for the boy–nope, not really ‘boy’ any longer. The corpse that clawed itself out from under that tree definitely looked older than when Steve first knew him all those years ago.

Looking around the place, he meets the curious eyes and empty eye sockets of the other souls of this world. All those whose skin hadn’t quite gone had the same blue tinge as Eddie and the kids, and some still bore the marks of the events that’d taken them here. To this pub.

Is the afterlife only a run-down looking pub?

Dustin interrupts his scanning of the bar’s patrons. “We really need to play catch-up here, how do you know Eddie?”

“We–I–how do you know Eddie?” Steve retorts.

Max rolls her eyes. “Met him down here, of course.”

“He took us under his wing, helped us adjust…kept us out of too much trouble.” Will smiles.

“So, back to the original question, how do you know him? Dustin asks again. 

Steve lets out a long breath. “I knew him when I was young. Younger than you lot. He taught me to play piano.” Steve smiles at the memories of Eddie humming and singing along to whatever tune Steve’d make up. “He was a very good friend to me, until I just…stopped seeing him around. Whatever happened to him?”

Dustin winces minutely. “It’s kind of a long story..”

“And what a story it is!” A booming voice calls out from behind them.

Steve whips around, finally laying eyes on Eddie again. His arms are held wide as he’d come through the doorway to the bar, but the dirty, rumpled suit he wore and his full head of curls, now filled with debris, did nothing to staunch the glow coming off him. 

He’s so beautiful… and apparently just as much of a showman he’d been when Steve had known him, a fact that made him smile.

“It's a tragic tale of romance, passion, and a murder most foul.” Eddie continues, his low story-teller’s voice cutting through the background noise of the bar as he stalks toward them.

Max elbows Steve in the ribs and says, “This is gonna be good.” at the same time Steve catches Dustin grumbling, “..please don’t.”

Steve gulps. “Did he say ‘murder’?”

Max nods enthusiastically, obviously having heard this story before, while Dustin and Will grimace and nod unenthusiastically, also obviously having heard this story before.

“You all know how this begins, with little ol’ Eddie being cordoned off to his own side of town after getting caught befriending a Harrington.” Eddie begins his tale, speaking to and winding through the tables of patrons. “Can’t have us low-lifes on the ritzy side of Hawkins now, can we?”

Ouch. That stung a little.

“Life moved on, Eddie grew into a dashing young man,” Eddie stands straight and flashes a charming smile over the bar, one hand comes up to his chest and the other flings half of his dark mane over his shoulder. “Dashing enough to even make a deal with a more well-off family perhaps?

“A deal was bartered with the Cunninghams, to wed their only daughter to the once-distinguished Munson family.”

Steve knew of the Cunninghams, their only daughter was shipped off years ago to be wedded to the Carver’s first-born son in the next town over. He’d never heard that she’d once been thought of for marriage to Eddie, though he had been forbidden from knowing anything of the long-haired boy he’d met after his father had found out.

“But alas, the lone Munson heir was not one to choose the company of ladies, as lovely as Christine was and likely still is. She was his best friend, and he would not put her through a loveless marriage. Especially not when he had a love of his own.

“SO!” Eddie jumps up onto a rickety-looking chair with the exclamation, “He did what he thought best and he planned to run away.” he steps up further, onto the small wooden table, much to the apparent excitement of the skeleton seated there. “He took what remained of his family’s money, leftover dowry from his mother’s marriage to his father, and fled.

“That was the plan,” Eddie continues, plodding across the closely placed tables as he went. “Take the money and run, elope with his beloved; they’d already picked a meeting place, so he asked Chrissy to send word to his lover to meet that night, in the graveyard by the old oak tree.”

Oh no. That’s where he first found Eddie.

The crowd reacted together in a combined wail of “Don’t go!” as if rehearsed, all of them hanging on his word.

“I must!” Eddie replied, as if this was a play and not the tale of his own murder. “My darling dear will wait for me and we will flee to my only remaining family!”

“No!” the patrons yell again.

“Yes! We will go to Uncle Wayne, we’ll elope, start anew…we’ll get to be together.” Steve’s chest starts to constrict hearing the story-telling tone leaving Eddie’s voice. This was real. This is what he’d actually thought back then, back when he was alive, still full of hope.

“Oh no..” comes Will’s whispered voice beside Steve.

There’s a single beat of silence where Eddie seems to collect himself at the same time the crowd waits on baited breath (at least they would be if they had any) for him to continue, knowing what happens next.

Eddie jumps from the table he’d been atop to the nearby stage, spins around, and starts again, voice fully back in story-mode, and many-times-repeated words spill from his mouth.

“So there I was, next to the graveyard by the old oak tree, on a dark foggy night at a quarter to three. Ready to go! But where was he?”

Another round of call-and-answer picked up across the dingy bar, the entire place calling out, “And then?”

“I waited…”

“And then?”

“There!” Eddie points off to the side of the stage, “In the shadows, was it him?!”

“And then?”

“My poor little heart beat sooo loud….” Eddie clasped both hands over his un-beating heart.

“And then?!”

Eddie’s chest was heaving.

Steve took a step forward on instinct, not knowing if the panic on Eddie’s face was just for show.

“And then…everything went black.” The crowd gasps at once, all still seeming to be horrified by the turn of events no matter how many times Eddie may’ve told this tale.

Eddie starts speaking again, gaze far away, back in time. “When I opened my eyes, I was dead as dust. The meager amount I had on me, gone, along with the sound of my heartbeat.”

He starts back across the tables toward their little group, voice gaining confidence again as he recites his story. “So I made a vow, lying under that tree, that I’d wait for my true love to come set me free. So long I’ve been waiting for someone to ask for my hand,” He quick-steps down to the floor from a chair so generously pulled out for him by a kind looking woman more skin-and-bone than flesh.

“Then out of the blue comes this beautiful young man,” Eddie’s directly in front of Steve now, and reaches for his hands. Steve lets him take them, takes in the man in front of him, every last detail he can.

He’s just as beautiful as Steve remembers, even through the lens of crushing on someone much older than you; his hair was just as wild, his eyes as fiery, his hands much colder than the ones that used to guide his fingers along piano keys, but just as soft, just as sure.

What had not been there before was the dark purple, crumpled looking gash on his forehead, just under his hairline. The sight of which had pure rage boiling in Steve’s gut at whoever decided it was his place to take such a soul from the world.

“He who vowed forever, to stay by my side.” Eddie all but whispers.

Steve looks down at their hands and his heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of his ring on Eddie’s finger. He looks up with a smile, squeezing Eddie’s fingers in his and suddenly, the panic is back on Eddie’s face. For a fraction of a second, then replaced by one fully-cocksure. 

Steve’s hands are suddenly empty, Eddie spinning around to the crowd, “That’s my story. The story of your resident corpse groom!”

Eddie flings his arms wide, like he had when he first returned to the bar, and gives the raucous crowd a low bow. 

The muted claps of the corpses’ skin on skin, and the rattling ones of the skeletons around him are drowned out as Steve steps forward to place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Eddie, I–”

“No worries Stevie, I’ll get you back up to the surface again, no sweat.” Eddie takes a step backward, then another, his face under the grin falling sharply, “I gotta go find Elder Gutknecht, he’ll know how to get you back, no ties still tethered here.” then he turns and all but runs from the room.

———————-

ahhh!!! i couldnt get the idea of eddie, the story-teller he is, being the one telling his own story in remains of the day 🥺

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st ficlet #st au #corpse bride #corpse bride au #dutin henderson #max mayfield #will byers #chrissy cunningham #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steveddie #emily corpse bride #victor van dort #emily x victor #noelle writes

[samsexualdeancurious]

Candy and Whiskey

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Words: 1,101

Summary: Dean brought a little adult treat for trick or treating with the twins.

Warnings: Drinking, some kinda dirty flirting between adults.

Written for an Angel Patron request

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“Abby! Stay with your sister!”

The youngest of your twins slows her pace but only a bit. Dean chuckles softly. He’s already holding both of their candy buckets, pink and purple pumpkins swinging from the hand that’s not curled around your own.

“Abby,” you call again and she comes to a halt at the end of the front walk of the next house. She taps one little princess slipper-clad foot while she waits for the rest of your to catch up.

“You walk too fast,” Maggie complains.

Abby mumbles an apology and snatches her purple bucket from her dad. Together, the twins make their way up to the front door of the house where various little superheroes are receiving their shares of candy from an older woman in a pointed witch hat.

“I swear,” you sigh. “Those two.”

“They’ll slow down when they get tired,” Dean assures you.

“Yeah, and we’ll end up carrying them the rest of the way home.”

Dean laughs, digging in the inner pocket of his coat for something. He’s dressed like a cowboy, right down to a leather vest and sheriff’s star under his long dark coat. It’s a damn good look, especially with the dark hat completing the outfit. You can’t help but admire him for a moment before you realize what he has in his hand.

“You did not.”

He smirks and gives the flask a little shake. “Want some?”

You hesitate a moment and then grab the flask. It’s straight whiskey inside and burns going down but the warmth is welcome in the chilly Halloween night. You pass the flask back to Dean, who takes a sip of his own and tucks it away. You shake your head fondly.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you murmur as the girls skip back down the front walk to you.

“You love me.”

Apparently, the girls are okay with carrying their own buckets again, because they immediately start leading the way down the sidewalk to the next house. You lean into Dean and follow them.

You don’t drink a lot but the few sips you get as your little family makes its way around the neighborhood definitely have you leaning more towards tipsy as you get closer to home. The girls are still going strong, surprisingly. You suspect they’ve been sneaking candy when you weren’t looking. Just like their father, of course. You wouldn’t expect anything less.

“Have I told you yet how fucking hot you look tonight?” Dean murmurs, low for your ears only as the girls run, squealing, past some homemade ghosts hanging from a tree.

Your cheeks burn. Your costume isn’t anything particularly complicated, just something you threw together last minute - a black dress that’s a little reminiscent of Morticia Addams with a less extreme plunge to the neckline, paired with some kick-ass boots and a long blue cloak. You’d already felt good about yourself when you twirled in front of the bathroom mirror but something about Dean telling you how good he thinks you look always sparks warmth in your belly.

“You’re sweet,” you reply, giving him a little shove. You’re feeling all warm and fuzzy but you can’t tell if it’s from the whiskey or Dean pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Mommy! Look at how big this candy bar is!”

Maggie is bounding down the steps, a king-sized Hershey’s bar clutched proudly in one fist. Abby is hot on her sister’s heels, her own Hershey’s bar held above her head for you to see.

“Wow! Those are big ones!” You crouch down to look at both candy bars. “Good job! Put them in your buckets so they don’t get lost.”

Both girls tuck their candy bars in their buckets with a reverence that has Dean muffling a snort.

“A few more houses and then we’re gonna head home,” he tells them. Both immediately start whining but a firm look silences their complaints. “Look how much candy you have! That’s enough to last you until next Halloween.”

“Not to mention, Dad’s going to stock up on more when it goes on sale tomorrow,” you tell the girls conspiratorially.

They giggle and Dean pouts but there’s no real heat to it. You shoot him a wink as the girls scurry off towards the next house.

“You’re trouble.”

His tone is low and a little dangerous. You can’t help a shiver of arousal at his words and your mouth goes dry but you somehow manage to muster a response.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

Dean yanks you close, mouth pressed to the sensitive spot behind your ear when he says in a low growl, “You’ll find out when we get home.”

He releases you abruptly and calls for the girls to wait for him at the end of the next driveway. You’re left standing in the middle of the sidewalk, probably looking a bit stunned.

When you’ve shaken yourself back to reality and caught up with your family, Dean’s chatting amicably with your neighbor Cindy while the girls compare candy with her son, Hunter. You plaster on a smile that you really hope doesn’t show any of the absolutely filthy thoughts you’re struggling to push from your mind.

“Hi, Y/N!” Cindy is dressed as a cat to match Hunter’s dog costume. “Looks like the girls are having a successful night.”

“They got king-size Hersheys at the last house,” you tell her.

“Oh, those are always the best houses. I’m surprised neither of you stayed home to give out candy.”

“We-ell,” you say slowly, drawing the word out as you shoot your husband a pointed look. “Someone at the whole bowl of candy in secret, so we didn’t have any candy to give out.”

Dean blushes, adorable pink spots high on his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck. Cindy laughs. When he’s distracted by Abby tugging on his coat and bends down to listen to what she’s saying, Cindy turns a knowing smile on you. She doesn’t say anything but you know exactly what she’s thinking. Every woman in the neighborhood has a massive crush on Dean.

After you say goodnight to Cindy and continue on your way, Dean loops his arm around your waist and tugs you in close.

“Want some more whiskey?” he asks and you shake your head.

“No.” You lean into his side. You should probably eat something when you get back to the house but the buzz you’re feeling is pleasant and warm in combination with the low-level arousal still burning in your belly. “No, I want to make sure I remember tonight.”

Dean groans.

—

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Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @emoryhemsworth @imsuperawkward

#my writing #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester/reader

[him-x-her]

Dead Lovers’ Lane

One shot fic, requested by @sincerelyaliciaamarie

…

I stand at the cemetery gates, feeling a little stupid. Well, a lot stupid. Who the fuck agrees to a date at the cemetery? How do you even dress for a date at a cemetery? I stand by the railing in my black skinny jeans, black converse low tops and a ‘Boys Don’t Cry’ shirt, featuring one of my favourite men - Robert Smith - on the front with his guitar. My long brown hair is straightened, hanging down and hiding half of my face. I am wearing very little in the way of makeup: some clear lipgloss and black pencil eyeliner.

I obsess over my choice in attire, wondering if I should’ve worn something girlier or showed a bit more skin. Then again, skinny jeans and band shirts are all I wear, and he must like me to have asked me out, right?

My mind flitters to that moment in our high school hallway. Mike and Jared were being complete dicks as usual, but this time turned their sights on Ville. He’d always been so quiet, disconnected, headphones on. We had that in common. I guess that’s why it pissed me off so much when they shoved him into the lockers and kicked his books. I had told them to go and fuck themselves, and helped Ville pick the books up, but in doing so for the first time I noticed how green his eyes were and almost became catatonic. It took his long fingers to brush mine for my trancelike state to break. Later that day he had waited by my locker to ask me out.

Fast-forward to now, I feel restless, hopeful this isn’t one big joke. I run my fingers across the rusty iron gates, entertaining myself with the slight ringing sound emanating from the metal. My finger brushes something sharp. “Ow, fuck!” I curse, examining my index finger. A pinprick of blood oozes from my small wound.

“I would be careful…” I hear in that deep baritone I have become so sensitive to, and spin around on my heel. I am face to face with those emerald eyes that have haunted me since. Ville swiftly lifts my palm to his mouth and sucks the blood from the tip of my finger.

“W-what are you doing?” I ask, weirded out but completely mesmerised.

“Just in case anything has entered your bloodstream through your wound… the safe thing is to suck it out.” He smiles.

“And swallow it?!” I raise my eyebrows.

“I don’t mind…” he smirks, running his hand through his hair. I take in his appearance. Black trousers, doc martens, a Black Sabbath shirt and a black suit jacket. Smart casual. My heart flutters. “Shall we?” he gestures to the cemetery entrance. I look up and follow his lead, feeling ever curious.

“I love your Cure shirt, by the way.” He compliments. We walk through the entrance and along a small stone path in between headstones.

“Oh, um yeah, thanks.” My cheeks grow pink at my awkward acceptance of his compliment. “I love them so much, Disintegration is…”

“Incredibly overrated.” He stops, and turns to me with an apologetic smile. “All the Cure fans love that album the best, but for me it’s-“

“Bloodflowers.” I interject. “If you had let me finish, I would’ve said that Disintegration is the most popular album, but my favourite is Bloodflowers.” I say with righteous indignation, annoyed at being interrupted.

“My apologies, I made an incorrect assumption.” He looks down at me, biting his moist lip. I watch it turn pink. “Bloodflowers is my favourite too.” I smile back. We have even more in common than I thought.

We reach a clearing in the cemetery where the grass subsides, and the space is occupied by a beautiful white statue, surprisingly bright and well preserved. It appears to be a some sort of Greek statue of a woman and her child, adorned in cloth. Ville leans against her and reaches in his pocket. He takes out a cigarette and lighter. I watch as he lights the cigarette, wraps his lips around the tan tip, closes his eyes and softly inhales his vice. His slender fingers flip the cigarette in my direction in offering. I impolitely refuse.

“I’m good without lung cancer, thanks.” I dismiss.

“Hmm, these things cause cancer? Never knew.” He responds sarcastically, producing another cigarette from his pocket and placing it between the stone lips of our statuesque friend. He humorously tries to light it.

“You’re very cavalier about death.” I observe.

Ville smirks, and with a flick of his wrist gestures around him. “Look where we are; we’re all gonna die someday. Eat the apple, Eve.”

I angrily yank the cigarette from his mouth, take a drag and blow it into his face, before dropping it on the ground and stamping on it.

The smoke dances in the daylight, swirling around us until the only thing visible to me are his beautiful green eyes. We gravitate closer, intoxicated, and his lips find mine. He kisses me gently, sucking softly on my bottom lip.

He pulls back to look at me, now the smoke has subsided. My mouth falls slightly open at the surprise of his affection.

He runs his hand through his hair and looks down, seemingly shy. “Thank you for helping me the other day…”

“With the books?” I ask. “Oh, that was nothing.”

“It was everything.” He looks up again and paralyses me with sea green irises. “In a world where people are cruel and selfish, it means everything.”

I look down, kicking the dirt with my dusty cons, feeling ever so self conscious. My curtain of hair falls forward, obscuring my face. His pale hand reaches out to sweep my hair behind my ear. “It is criminal to hide a face so beautiful.”, he whispers. His fingers find my chin and guide my gaze back up to him. “Can I kiss you… properly this time?” I nod, unable to speak. His lips press against mine and his warm tongue sweeps between, requesting access. I part my lips and meet his tongue with mine. His hands explore my hair as I wrap mine around his waist, lost in his sweet kiss.

A sudden gust of wind blows, leading my long brown locks to wrap around us. We open our eyes at the sudden sensation. Ville chuckles and I giggle, as he presses his forehead to mine.

“The elements approve.” He grins.

“So does Maria.” I laugh, and gesture to the statue.

“Why Maria?” He cocks his head one side curiously.

“I don’t know, she looks like a Maria?” I shrug. Ville holds out his large palm and I place my hand in his as we continue our walk.

“So, um, why the cemetery?” I implore, inquisitively.

“There’s beauty in being laid… to rest.” He smirks and my cheeks feel hot. What exactly is he suggesting?

We continue our Summer stroll until the path comes to a sudden end. In front of us are hundreds of gravestones and far as our eyes can see. Acres of stone and marbles and offerings of flowers and colourful trinkets. It is as sad as it is beautiful.

I take a long breath as we look out into the distance. “I can see the beauty in death. It’s incredibly peaceful here.” I sigh. “Where to next? There’s no path.”

Ville looks down, “This is my favourite place to frequent when I’ve had enough of humanity. There are hundreds of souls here, listening, not judging.”

The wind continues to blow gently as I kneel to read a beautifully carved white marble headstone. “Here lies Marco and Maria. Beloved husband and wife.” My eyes widen. “Maybe her name really was Maria!” I say, masking my disconcert at this information.

Ville kneels next to me as I continue to read, “Michael and Evelyn, Vincent and Isobel… they, they’re all couples.” I look at Ville, wondering why he has brought me here.

“I call it Dead Lovers’ Lane… the point where the path ends and so does life.” My eyebrows raise in fearful anticipation. “I imagine this is where we can go, when we get tired of living.” He says, eyelids heavy and expression morose.

I cup his cheek in my palm in comfort and he smiles. “Well then…” I decide, interlocking the fingers of my free hand with his. “Let’s head down Dead Lovers’ Lane.”

#ville valo fanfic #ville valo x reader #him fanfic #him x reader #vv #heartagram

[whitealiselights]

GUILTY FOR LIKING YOU ➡︎ [PART ONE]

AUTHORS NOTE¡ hi friendss ! , this is my second post so, this one might be just a bit better than the last ofc. also, thank you so much for 10 likes on my last post ! love you all, mwuah!

Genre; Fem reader x Spencer Reid angst (age gap¡ Spencer is in his early 20s , reader is in her mid 30s)

summary; you love spencer — but does he love you¿

——————-——————————————————

you had been working at bureau for almost two decades. everyone knew and loved you. it was hard for you to make friends when you were younger but, being in this job where you had to talk to people nearly everyday, and risk your life, made it somewhat easy.

You’re closest friend? Spencer Reid. You always thought he was the cute, sweet, shy kind of guy. it was what you first noticed about that sweet boy. It was something that you loved about him.

There He was. That sweet lucious brown hair, and those beautiful hazel eyes. “Hiya, Spencer!” You Said happily, Walking to get a cup of coffee. “Hi, Y/n” Spencer replied, waving back with a smile on his face. “Did you sleep well last night? I know after yesterday’s case it kind of had a toll on you.” You said. “Yes, im okay” He replied back. “Oh well, Thats good!” You exclaimed while walking back to your desk.

“Y/N , Y/N , Y/N , WHERE ARE YOUUU ???” You noticed that yell of excitement. Your favorite person of the whole entire world. Penelope Garcia. “Hiya Penelope, Im hereee !” You giggled waving at your favorite person who, surprisingly is pretty good at running in heels. “JJ just had her son, Henry. and omggg !!! , hes so adorable.!” Penelope yelled in excitement “WAIT OMG, I FREAKING MISSED IT?!” you screamed in excitement aswell.

“Ladies Keep it down in here.” There he was. Mr. Derek Morgan. He was a fine sexy man but, never really had a thing for him. “Whatever Morgan” You and penelope say in unison. “Hey Pretty boy.” Morgan Said Walking with spencer to go see what you guys were so excited about. “Hi Morgan” Spencer Replied. “So, You and Miss Pretty lady over there? You guys are thing yet?” Morgan Asked Reid.

“O-oh, I dont know, im not sure im ready for that.” Spencer Spoke. “Pretty boy really??, She likes you. like alot.” Morgan exclaimed. “I know but, im not sure im ready for that yet. atleast not now.” Spencer Told Morgan.

“Hi Friends, Whatcha talkin about over there?” You spoke in your Strong spanish accent. “Oh nothing, just talking with Pretty Boy here. Right Reid?” Morgan Looked at him. “Y-yeah.” Spencer spoke. “Oh alright well, I have paperwork to do. Sooo..I’ll see you guys later.” You spoke while you walked back to your desk.

“Well, We’ll get going, we have paperwork to do too.” Derek Spoke as he patted spencer’s back and went to his desk. “L/N I need you in my office.” Spoke Hotch leaning against his door frame. “Alright, Im coming.” You excused yourself.

“What do you need Hotch? If its about the paperwork, i swear im working on it right now-“ You were speaking so fast because you were nervous. “No, No its not that. You already have enough on your back.” He cut you off. “Oh then, what is it?” You questioned. “Are you okay? You’ve been looking sad and stressed.” Hotch asked.

Ofcourse You felt sad and stressed but, you didnt think anyone could tell. In your opinion you thought you hid your feelings well. “No, Im okay Hotch. I promise.” “Alright well, i was just making sure.” He said. “Well, thank you. may i go now? i have paperwork to finish.” “Yeah.”

Jesus. You didnt know why you felt sad. maybe it was work, or maybe just maybe it was what spencer had said earlier? About how he wasnt ready for a relationship yet. I mean, He treated you like he loved you, or that he wanted more than just what you had. A relationship. You knew that wasnt going to happen though. Not after what he had told Morgan atleast.

There you were again. infront of your computer and desk. Filling out papers that needed to be turned into Hotch before you left. “This is going to take forever” You thought. So you got straight to work.

You looked at the clock. It was 12:32 Am. You had been here for what felt like days. Everyone was gone so, It was time to go home. “Jesus, Never done so much paperwork in my life.” You sighed, already packing your things and putting your papers on Hotch’s Desk for the morning.

You walked back to your desk, grabbed your bag and headed out.

Finally, you were at home. “There he is!! Hey sweet boy” You hugged your cat, Leon. “I missed you like crazy buddy” You said while picking him up to move to the couch. You sigh and feel your phone vibrating. It was penelope.

“Hiya penelope, Whatcha doing calling at this hour?” You asked her. “Just wanted to check up on you. you looked kinda sad before i left for work today. are you okay?” She asked. “Honestly? No, not really.” “Oh no, why not cupcake?” She questioned.

“Penelope, I dont think spencer likes me anymore. I heard him and morgan talking earlier.” You replied. “Oh sweetcakes, ofcourse he likes you! he talks about you all the time. He never knows how shut his face when it comes to you.” She told you. “Yeah well, He told Morgan that He wasnt ready for a relationship. I feel like im Just sitting here looking dumb and vulnerable.” You told her. You want spencer to like you. but, sometimes we dont always get what we want.

“I really want him to like me. I dont know pen, i really like him. like really, i do.” “I know cupcake, and i promise you, he does like you. hes just not ready yet.” She explained. “Yeah, I guess.” “I think im gonna head to bed pen, i’lk see you tomorrow okay? Love ya” You spoke to her. “Alright sweetheart, Sleep well, See you tomorrow, I love you!” She said before hanging up.

You sigh and put your phone on the table. “Well, Looks like its time for bed Leon. Come on” You groaned before picking him up.

You were finally laying bed, sleepy and tired with Leon cuddle next to you. “I dont know what im gonna do leon, i want him to like me. I just dont know if he does, and thats maybe on me. You know?” You spike to your cat. He meows.

You pat him on the head. “Come on, Its time to sleep.” You turned off your side table lamp, and drifted off to bed.

Your alarm went off. The time was 8:30 AM. Hotch let you sleep in today since you had texted him late last night about how you had just gotten off work. He understood how important but, also how tiring this job could be. Hell, He was your boss, so you would imagine his job is alot harder.

Your phone vibrates. Its a Text from JJ. “Hey Y/N where are you? You arent here yet.” “Hotch Let me sleep in today so, I’ll be in a little later around 9:30” “Alright stay safe Y/N, I love you” “I love you too JJ.”

you loved your friends. they were your only family. sure, you had only known them for a couple years but, that didnt mean a thing to you. You’d do anything for them. Anything.

“Well, its time to get ready” You told yourself. Sometimes it was hard for you to get ready in silence, but you liked it. It made you feel calm.

You were finally in the car. You were running a little late but thats okay. You always took the freeway so, it didnt really matter.

“Hey, Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer asked. “Oh, yeah, Where is she?” Morgan Asked after. “She’ll be here soon, Hotch let her sleep in today.” Spoke JJ. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Spoke Emily.

You finally found yourself a parking spot. “Jesus, theres barely any parking spots” You spoke to yourself.

You eventually get into the bureau and set your stuff down on your desk. “Hi Y/N! How are you feeling?” It was penelope. she always checked up on you no matter what. “I’ve felt better, thanks pen.” You smiled at her as you walked to get coffee.

“Hey Pretty Lady, How are ya?” Asked Emily and JJ. “Im good Ladies Thanks.” You spoke as you leaned against the counter. “Theres the pretty lady!” Exclaimed Morgan walking over to hug you.

“Hi Morgan” You chuckled as you gave into the hug. “So, How are you and Pretty boy over there?” You turned to wear Derek was pointing. There he was. Spencer Reid, filling out his paperwork and talking to another Girl.

TO BE CONTINUED….

#artists on tumblr #criminal minds #angst #spencer reid #writers on tumblr #english as a second language #spanish #first time writer #music #part 1

[justimajin]

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 7

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (2.9k), Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes) 

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

↠ A/N: This is bit of a shorter chapter, but I'll be posting again on Friday and promise the chapter will be longer.

GIF credit.

↠ Next Update: Friday, August 25 (series masterpost here)

Ten days, two weekends, dinner rush hours. 

You deeply inhale, calculator in hand and pen quickly swirling down the numbers you conjugate. The thin sheet of paper before you has a dozen scribbles by now, mainly filled with multiplying your pay rate with hours of operation, followed by a bunch of addition of your combined shifts. Alongside this, hues of orange and pink flood your room as the sun rises and you’re dressed in business formal head to toe. 

Punching in the final numbers, you cross your fingers. 

The calculator spits out a number you’ve been crazily working for and your entire body sags, deflating against the chair. 

It’s enough. 

It’s enough by just a few numbers. 

You’ll be able to pay this month’s rent. 

The stress and tension has drained from your body, and you find your lids beginning to draw heavier, sleep granting you an invitation for your hard work. 

But that’s when‒ 

“The landlord!” 

You sit upright with a gasp, grabbing onto your bag and coat before hurrying out the door. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if you have enough money for rent or not, not until you manage to actually pay the landlord and put it into writing. 

Doing a double take on your watch, you should have enough time to pay the rent and head into work afterwards, granted this bus driver in front of you decides that he wants you to have a good day too. 

You discover he somewhat shares those sentiments, about to close the doors on your face until you very graciously project a chain of kind words for him. 

Grabbing on the seat on the bus, you wait until your stop is in sight, quickly bypassing the large crowd of people to head off.

Your heel click against the sidewalk and you spot his office, pushing against the door. 

To say that your landlord is a very interesting person, would be an understatement. 

At the most, he’s an elderly man that is a little persistent with demanding rent and not very surprisingly, isn’t the most understanding person. However when presented with the prospect of getting money, he turns into every single person you would expect. 

A welcoming smile lines his lips and he gestures for you to step in, accepting your payment and printing out a receipt for you. He even takes the opportunity to ask about your younger sister and her well-being, ironically someone he wouldn’t have thought twice to kick out from his apartment complex. 

“I wish you and Yuri the best.” He replied in his low voice, the smile on his features bothering you more than anything. 

“It’s Yuna.” You mimic his smile, “And thank you for your concern.” 

You left that place as fast as possible, not even turning back to hurry on to work. 

A shiver runs down your spine.

There’s a chilling breeze outside that feels like it’s cutting through your skin, and every time the bus driver stops to open up the plastic doors, another gush of it enters and leaves you frozen to your toes. It doesn’t help that you’re stuck between multiple individuals, seemingly getting squished every time the lengthy vehicle jerks.

By the time you’re dropped off to your stop, a deep exhale of relief leaves your form. Regardless, there’s a brighter smile on your features this time around. 

Things don’t seem as bright at the office. 

You wonder why it’s like a similar wind storm had hit the place – employee’s either appearing to be working vigorously at their cubicles or pacing around and sending side glances with whispers to each other. You stand in the middle of the mayhem, left baffled from the display.

Treading carefully, you head towards your cubicle and get greeted to the sight of both of your coworkers repeating the same exact actions.

Hoseok turns first, “Y/N.”

He stares at you and Yoongi is beside him, seated in his cubicle.

“Hi…” You say, warily glancing around, “What’s going on?”

“Oh right, you don’t know!” Hoseok shifts over right as the epiphany strikes him. He lowers his tone, whispering into your ear, “Everyone’s preparing for the visit.”

The way Hoseok frames it is like some kind of ominous presence is about to enter the confines of your office and you stare at him perplexed.

“Don’t say it like that.” Yoongi interjects, sounding a tad bit more annoyed than usual.

He leans back in his chair, “The head of our department is coming by today.”

Your brows raise, “The CFO?”

Yoongi hums, “He’ll be here in an hour. That’s why everyone’s on edge.”

You sit down at your desk, “I see…”

“Why is he visiting after so long?” Hoseok ponders, glancing at Yoongi.

He shrugs, “Maybe he wants to criticizeemployees about their work again.”

“He’s not that bad, hyung.” Hoseok nervously laughs, “Plus not all of our superiors are like that.”

“Too many of them are,” Yoongi bluntly states, “and last time this CFO paid a visit, I remember a lot of criticism.”

Hoseok frowns, though you can still see the tinge of positivity trying to sneak out in the midst of Yoongi’s nonchalant facts.

Although you’d like to be as optimistic as him, there is a part of you agreeing with Yoongi. A sudden drop in for the department wasn’t normally a huge surprise, but often times these visits have typically stemmed from two factors – either there was a major issue that needed their immediate intervention, or simply because they were told they needed to connect to employee’s and staff in a more ‘positive’ manner (cue the notorious criticism here and there).

Besides, past experiences haven’t been the greatest and you’ve heard many rumors circulate around, you can only leave it up to imagination as to why the Chief Financial Officer is here.

He jams his finger into the elevator button.

Warily peering around, his foot taps against the ground anxiously, and he glances at the watch on his wrist, the many minutes slipping away from him.

In all honesty, Seokjin didn’t mean to be late today. In fact, ever since you established some concrete terms with him, he was able to work alongside you a lot better than before. It actually made him genuinely pour some effort into learning about work done in the office – but unfortunately, the traffic along the way didn’t have the same hindsight in mind for him.

There’s a lot of scenarios he’s imagining in his head towards your reaction from his tardiness – mainly the ones that aren’t so pleasant. He pushes the thoughts back into the corner of his mind, staring at the slowly descending numbers as the elevator takes its sweet time.

“Come on.” Seokjin whispers, foot tapping growing louder as he plants his hands against his hips. His pupils roam around as he idles, stare coming to an abrupt halt. 

His eyes narrow for the briefest of moments. In a split-second, he actually considers it from all the scenarios playing in his mind.

It’s not long before his feet are moving away from the elevator and towards the door leading into the metallic steps. 

After all, stairs are just like slower elevators, right?

But in the midst of his extremely deep internal contemplation, he doesn’t notice the man walking towards him from the other direction.

“Shoot – I’m so sorry!” He instantly reaches out for the person, but he slips right by him, muttering a quick ‘it’s alright’ before he can say anything else.

Seokjin’s steps falter, and for a moment, he freezes all together. The apologetic smile he once adorned falls, and he slowly turns around, staring in the direction of the staircase door the man entered in.

 “No…” He whispers, squinting his eyes, “It can’t be…”

He shakes his head, snickering to himself, “Nah, why would he even be here?”

As his low laughter comes to an eventual halt, he doesn’t realize the elevator doors have already opened and are beginning to close.

His eyes immediately widen and he rushes towards them.

You raise your hands with a huff.

There’s a stack of papers within them that consists of documents for the next product that you had been meaning to get done while Seokjin wasn’t around. You were in the process of transporting them, but weren’t anticipating the elevator before you taking a decade.

Letting out a grateful sigh when it finally dings, you come face to face with the person you’re mentoring.

Seokjin’s mouth curves into a smile, “Y/N!”

You frown, “You’re late.”

“Okay, so I know that I am, but I have a really good excuse for it!” He begins, but his eyes catch sight of his surroundings, “What’s going on here?”

You sigh, “Nothing much – just the CFO deciding to make an appearance today.”

Seokjin blinks, “The CFO?”

“Yeah, he’s the head of the department, so we’re on top of our game right now.” You mention, gesturing to him, “You should get started on the tasks I have for you too.”

He doesn’t seem to hear you, “The CFO…is here?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I just said that.”

But you don’t notice how Seokjin’s eyes have lit up, a huge smile stretching across his lips, “No way…”

“Y/N?”

You pivot around to see Soyou peering at the two of you currently halted in front of the elevator doors.

You’re just about to respond back, but you catch sight of the man standing next to her.

He’s tall, like really tall. There’s a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and he’s adorned in a neat dark blue suit. He sheepishly smiles when he catches your gaze, two dimples appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widen.

“Is that–“

“Namjoon!”

 Whirling around, your eyes enlarge once you notice the way Seokjin practically beams at the man’s presence.

He walks over in an instant, swinging an arm around him.

“Good to see you’re doing well.” Namjoon remarks with a fond smile. 

“Of course I am, what else would you expect?” Seokjin loudly boasts. “I just can’t believe you’re the CFO now!”

Namjoon chuckles, “Ah well, it took me quite a lot of work to get to this position.”

Seokjin suddenly snaps his fingers together, an expression of recognition taking over him, “Wait, did you take the stairs to get up here?”

Namjoon exhales a lengthy sigh, before ultimately nodding.

“Admittedly, not a great move on my part.”

Seokjin lets out the most endearing laughter you’ve ever heard and it’s in that instance you don’t recall how long it’s been since you were frozen in position, simply watching the interaction play out before you.

You slowly shift forward, politely smiling at Namjoon and opting to stand next to Soyou. Namjoon gestures towards her and you assume they need to excuse themselves elsewhere, but Seokjin stops him in his tracks.

“Hey, Namjoon.” Seokjin brings up, turning his attention back to him, “Why are you here now anyways?”

“To check up on some things.” He states, “The company is working towards a new product launch, so I’ll be around and about here for a while.”

And with that, he departs along Soyou. 

“Let me get this straight–“ He whispers, “That man, over there –“

 He gestures towards the office, “That tall guy in the blue, is the CFO?”

You hum in response, typing some input in a spreadsheet.

His eyes flicker over to the handsome man standing next to Namjoon, a giant smile on his lips as he endearingly talks to him.

“And they know each other?”

Hoseok turns, still astounded. You glance over at him, nodding to his question.

“Apparently, he’s younger than Seokjin too.”

Hoseok nearly chokes, “Younge–“

“He’s Kim Namjoon, right?” Yoongi interjects on the other side, “I heard he became the CFO recently.”

“Interesting….”

 You and Hoseok swivel at the sound of another voice, one a tad bit deeper than the rest.

Taehyung leans against Yoongi’s cubicle, the latter barely flinching from his presence and continuing to work. He has a hand planted against his chin, eyebrows raised with an intrigued expression.

Hoseok blinks, “Where did you come from?”

“That’s not the point.” Taehyung interjects right away.

An amused smile crosses your lips, “Do you think we should be worried about this new CFO?”

“I don’t think so.” You mention, glancing at the two, “They seem close, and he seems a lot nicer compared to the last head of department.”

Hoseok grins, “You’re being too kind. He’s much better.”

“I don’t know.” Taehyung crosses his arms, eyeing you, “I would be careful if I were you, just in case.”

You hum in response, trying to understand what he was trying to imply. You suppose you’re not completely surprised that Seokjin knows Namjoon well, but it is a little jarring to know how close his contact is with the man that is in charge of your department.

Glancing at your monitor, you wonder if it’s also the reason why you’re working harder than usual too.

“He’s not that bad.” Hoseok brings up in retaliation.

“You sure?” Taehyung raises a brow, “There’s absolutely nothing fishy about him?”

“He came by to check in with HR and I saw no issues.” Hoseok remarks. 

Taehyung persists, “He could be pretending to be nice!” 

“Can the two of you have this argument somewhere else?”

Yoongi sighs from his end, continuing to work on his report. You turn around, facing the plastic separating your cubicles.

“What do you think about him, Yoongi?”

“He looks okay. Probably had some kind of history with Seokjin.” He shrugs, “Time will only tell.”

“See!” Hoseok exclaims, “Even Yoongi thinks he’s okay.”

Taehyung pouts in response, but you can’t help and let your eyes wander over, curiosity overtaking you.

“I’m surprised you were willing to take the staircase.”

Seokjin stands next to Namjoon, a playful tone to his words.

Namjoon grimaces, “There was a lot of traffic today, plus I can’t remember the last time I visited this building.” He shakes his head, “There’s too many floors for such small architecture.”

Seokjin chuckles and Namjoon looks at him apologetically. “I’m also sorry I missed you at the elevators, I was just trying to get up here as fast as possible.”

“No need to apologize.” Seokjin waves it off, “Congrats on officially becoming the new CFO.”

He smiles, “Thanks.”

Namjoon glances back and forth, before leaning closer and whispering in a low tone.

“This probably won’t be surprising, but–“ He intently stares at Seokjin, “You know I’m here to check up on things and one of those things is you, right?”

He softly smiles as Namjoon grows hesitant, “I heard the news recently…how are you taking it?”

“Becoming the CEO of this place with a two-month deadline.” Seokjin sharply laughs, “Just who wouldn’t love that kind of news?”

“I don’t think it’s that bad, you know.” Namjoon acknowledges, “I still think you can do it.”

“Well, you’ll be one of the many that still believe that.” He shakes his head, letting out a sigh.

“It’ll become easier, trust me.” Namjoon reaches his arm out, patting him on the shoulder and Seokjin gives him a half-smile.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Namjoon begins, speaking in a lighter tone, “You ran away?”

Seokjin stares at him wide eyed, “I didn’t ‘run away’, I took a break!”

Namjoon laughs and shakes his head, “You still haven’t changed, have you?”

Seokjin grins, “You mean hate this company even more so now that I’m working at it? Of course not.”

“I’ve also heard you have someone overseeing your training in the office.” Namjoon furrows his brows, “Y/N L/N, right?”

Seokjin hums, “She’s part of your department, and we’ve been working pretty well together ever since she negotiated with me.”

Namjoon tilts his head to the side, “Negotiated?”

“It’s a long story – it happened after I tried to run away and she had to come after me.” 

“You left the building and she came after you?” Namjoon’s eyes enlarge, as if he was still trying to process it.

“Like I said, a long story–“

“You know, these are the moments where I question how you’re older than me, right?” 

“And it’s in these moments where I tell you that I believe that having a naturally younger mentality has great effects on one’s outlook.”

The corner of Namjoon’s mouth curves upward. 

“Anyways,” Seokjin continues, “I guess I’ll just have to get better over time. It’s just that the office is so–“

“Boring? Mundane?” Namjoon ponders, counting them off on his fingers, “Way too consistent?”

Seokjin grins at not even needing to explain it, “Remember to try your best and that it’s important to–“

“I know, I know, and focus when I can.” He reiterates, “You don’t have to tell me again. Now come on, I’ll finally introduce you to her.” 

“A truly ambiguous role.” Namjoon wistfully sighs and Seokjin frowns. 

“I think your sense of humor has gotten a lot worse.”

“My sense of humor?” Namjoon frowns in confusion and Seokjin shakes his head, leading him away and towards the department.

“Her desk is just around here–“

Seokjin freezes, a snicker leaving his lips. Namjoon swivels around, sending a curious glance in his direction.

“What is it?”

He crosses his arms. “It looks like someone just became Mr. Popular here.”

Namjoon turns with rounded orbs to see four sets of eyes glued to him – all of which immediately turn away the moment he directly looks at him. He watches as they either resume working at their cubicles or tending to plants at someone else's cubicle – the latter one bringing on even more confusion towards him than he would have asked for.

Seokjin continues to laugh and Namjoon shakes his head, wondering how he managed to get paired with such a strange department.

#jin fanfic #bts jin ceo au #bts jin office au #bts jin fanfic #bts jin fluff #jin fluff #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fluff #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin fluff #bts office au #bts jin angst #jin angst #jin ceo au #bts ceo au #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jin x reader

[landograndprix]

Well I have an Eddie thought and it is this:

Imagine if Eddie paints his own nails sometimes but is talking about how frustrated he is that he can't quite "paint between the lines" and you're like "I've got you babe!" but you're not dating or anything and the babe throws him off and then you're painting his nails and he's looking at you like you're an angel idk it just gives me some feelings

love me a love sick man || [wc;506] || I don't proofread so there's that :')

Eddie isn't sure if he's heard you right or if the pet name that slipped from your lips is just him wishful thinking but it had caught him off guard– you've never called him babe or anything other than Ed or Eddie. 

His heart is beating surprisingly fast and his hands become sweaty while his stomach twists and turns, confusion washing over him like a cold, shocking shower– you're his best friend and nothing more, sure, eddie has had the biggest crush on you ever since he'd laid eyes on you but as the years went on, he truly thought he'd pushed those silly little feelings aside– boy was he wrong; 

The gears in his head run miles as he's looking up at you from where he's seated on your bed, he mumbles out "what didn't just say?" 

"I'm going to paint your nails?" 

"No," Eddie shakes his head "I mean yes but before that– something..something and then you said babe, you called me babe?" 

"Huh, did I?" Tapping the bottle of black nail polish into the palm of your hand, you sit down next to Eddie with your legs tucked underneath you "Sorry, I've been hanging around with Michelle today– you know how she is with her nicknames and all. Force of habit I guess" 

Oh, okay Eddie thinks to himself, do you didn't mean to say it, it didn't mean anything. 

And it's silly really how something so simple and so stupid would affect him this much– even if you did call him babe, it wouldn't change a single thing. 

"Munson, do you want me to paint your nails or are you going to do it yourself and complain about how bad they are for the next couple of days?" 

Eddie doesn't know why it feels so different and strange when your hand touches his, why your touch is so unfamiliar when you hold his fingers and how the cold polish on his nails sends a shiver down his spine– he watches you through thick lashes, how his hands are in your lap, the scrunch of your nose and your brows are knitted together in utter concentration, how your lashes kiss your cheeks every time you blink and your lips…christ, he's falling again like he did years ago– spiraling face first into what he had hoped was gone. 

he's looking at you as if you had hung the moon into the sky and delivered him the stars. As if you're the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, something so magical and unbelievable– and you are, you are something magical, something out of a dream and you're definitely the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on. 

He's a goner, head over heels, love sick..Eddie Munson is in love with his best friend. 

Eddie snorts, he'd put himself into another difficult situation..like always. He has to go through it again, the longing, the wishing and the hurt of rejection whenever you'd show up with a new date– no, he can't go through that again. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

[spikedsoul]

Hello, a request please, from bowser x reader, how does bowser react (mario and company) if about 7 boys and a girl arrive from the future and they turn out to be his children from the future (he still does not know the reader)

Bowser bares his fangs at the Mario Brothers, his claws held up in a defensive position as the three circle around each other like predator and prey.

"Give up," he snarls, "you two can't beat-"

His words are suddenly cut off by someone tackling him to the ground from behind, knowing just how to avoid his spikes. All he can see from his new place on the ground is five multicolor spiked koopa shells - like his - charging the Mario Brothers. Some of the weight on him shifts and his vision is suddenly blocked by a pair of little koopa feet.

He can hear Mario and Luigi yelling profanities in the background.

When he finally looks up, the snarl catches in his throat - standing before him is a koopa kid that looks remarkably like him, except his fiery red hair is pulled back into a ponytail and he's wearing a bandana with a crude drawing of a fanged mouth on it.

"Listen up, papa!" the little koopa declares.

Papa?

"What," he growls.

"We've all come here to make sure you get something through your thick skull!" The kid lightly raps his knuckles on Bowser's forehead, smirking a bit. "And you better listen or else we'll be back!"

"Just get to the point!" Bowser chuffs. His tail lashes, but he feels a pair of hands grab it that don't belong to whoever is on his back.

"Cool off, dad, geez! Junior, just get the message out already, we're on a timer!" comes a female voice. She holds his tail fast in her little but strong hands.

The koopa in front of Bowser pouts at the girl, but soon looks back down at him. "Alright, alright. Look - in the future, you're gonna attack Peach's castle again - be sure you go inside and take the lady hiding in the closet, got it?"

The closet? There's dozens of closets in that damn palace!

"And why wouldn't I just go straight for Peach?" he sneers.

Junior grabs his face, staring so intently into his eyes that the king is starting to feel uncomfortable. "Because she's not there. I'm tellin' you, the lady in the closet is who you want." Junior even narrows his eyes to drive the point home.

"Hey, kiddo, we gotta go!" one of the others calls from somewhere behind Junior.

"I'm comin', Roy, damn! You got it in your head, papa? I'm the closet!"

With that, the three bodies holding him down are suddenly up and running off, the little female koopa surprisingly sure-footed in her heels that look just a little big. Bowser manages to sit up just as all seven kids gather together and disappear from view.

There's a heavy silence between the three men remaining.

Mario is the first one to speak: "What the fuck?"

"Were those your kids?" Luigi asks, looking over to the baffled king.

"...I don't have any kids, far as I know," he reminds them. He's still staring at the spot they disappeared from.

Mario raises an eyebrow. "I mean, that little one looked just like you."

Mario's right. He did. That was undoubtedly Bowser's son. He remains quiet for a moment as a multitude of thoughts rush through his mind.

"I gotta go," he suddenly states, jumping onto his feet. The plumbers protest, but he throws them the bird and takes off - he's got to figure out what just happened, immediately.

#super mario bros #bowser #bowser jr #bowser junior #mario #Luigi #wendy o koopa #wendy o. koopa #koopalings #ficlet

[lucero-is-here]

Nadia Ben Yamin headcanons part 2:

1 - Nadia's handwriting is cursive. It's almost impossible to read her handwriting sometimes.

2 - she holds little tea parties at her place for the police squad and have them all come over to chat

3 - She has a set of earphones on her to listen to random podcasts or music.

4 - she listens to true crime podcasts all the time.

She always feels bad for the victims though.

5 - good relationship with her parents, but closer to her father. Her father spent more time with her when growing up, but she still loves both her parents equally.

6 - when buying clothes, she usually looks for anything that's really really pretty. But she also looks out for comfort. If something is pretty but uncomfortable, she's going to reluctantly put it back down and look for something else.

7 - her favourite subject while growing up was science class. She just loved it for no reason (yeah totally no reason- but her favourite topics were on the human body and organs and stuff)

8 - Chocolate is one of her favourite things and dark chocolate is her go to.

9 - She can run surprisingly fast in her high heels. The police squad witnessed her chasing after somehow in heels and were all scared of her now.

10 - she’s an absolute menace on April Fools Day. Expect to be pranked by her. For example: Enzo walked into his lab, saw a present box, opened it and a glitter bomb exploded, covering him and hus workplace in pink glitter. Émile went to his tech lab, and ending up finding the entire place wrapped with wrapping paper. And everything was rearranged so it took time for him to get everything back into place. Those are just some examplesz

11 - Nadia absolutely loves stingrays. She doesn’t know why, but she just loves them.

12 - Nadia canonly has a cat. That cat is a British shorthair, and it’s stupid. It found it’s way into the catnip once and was high for a good amount of time.

13 - Nadia tried pottery once. She proceeded to make several cups and vases, before giving away some as gifts.

14 - Nadia likes hearts. She has a white ribbon (can be worn like a tie, used as a hair accessory etc) that has several little black hearts on it and she loves it.

15 - She has handcream on her all the time. Her hands gets dry as hell some times- so she uses it.

16 - some of Nadia’s favourite colours include grey, black, and red. She mainly likes monochrome colours cause she finds them easier to style, but it doesn’t stop her from having some bright or pastel colours im the mix.

17 - doesn’t get cold easily. She rarely gets cold, and most of the time if she wears a jacket it’s more likely used as decoration and not cause she’s actually cold.

18 - when she gives people gifts, she has a wide variety. She either gives you some kind of self care product (hand cream and lip balm stuff) or make up. She has also given people small portraits before, or pieces of clothing. When Carrie had first joined the police force, Nadia gave her a nice little ribbon to wear with her outfit.

19 - Nadia came to work in a suit one day. Everyone asked her why and she said: I was feeling classy so here I am.

20 - Nadia is really protective of her coworkers. She saw one of them getting harassed by a suspect, and she proceeded to run over and tried to fight the suspect. They had to stop her from body slamming the person while she was yelling them curses in French-

Forgot something-

This is all for now. Possibly will be a part 3 but I’m not sure. It’s 12:27am where I am at now so I’ll be sleeping. I won’t post anymore until I wake up/have free time. If you have any requests drop me a message or write it in the comments!

#criminal case #headcanons #nadia ben yamin #no nadia don’t bodyslam anyone again-

[cherryrehab]

Lanceolate | Chapter 3

POV: You're a Zaunite fishmonger/fishwife and a blue-haired gangly girlchild comes to buy a fish in a bag from the tank because she found out her dad is into fish. (CHAPTER 1) (CHAPTER 2)

The cobblestone beneath your feet is unforgiving, yet at this point the soles of your feet are so numb you can barely feel it. Heels barely grazing the ground, your legs carry you forward automatically. You never thought you’d find kinship with prey animals but here you are. Thighs chafing, calves burning, toes numb from the cold, you focus on gripping the ledger closer to the left side of your body.

One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.

Pacing your breathing is harder that you remember. You wonder if he’s not far behind you. You want so badly to turn your head to see him, but it would give him another advantage on top of those surprisingly long legs.

You wonder if his breathing is rushed at all, if you’re imagining his growling breaths. The sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own wracking breaths make it impossible to tell.

One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.

The deeper you enter back into the promenade district the harder it becomes to keep your cool. In the dockyard, the open, emptied space, gave you an advantage in running but now – dodging tarped wooden stalls, shimmer addicts, puddles of grime and maybe blood, navigating twists and turns, jumping, skidding – you’re in for a treat.

Your chest is now on fire. The harder you run the harder you breathe, and the cold breeze is unforgiving on your lungs and nose, the back of your throat is itching, eyes previously dry from the cold are now damp from stressed tears that refuse to fall.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Every single fiber in your body feels as though it’s pulled as taut as it can be, and an irrational fear that if you slip and fall, you’ll snap like a rubber band floats by the back of your mind almost comically. It feels as though you’re the one doing the chasing.

The closer you come to your home the surer you are that leading this man to your home is a very bad idea. Just thinking about the man chasing you getting his hands on you is making you nauseous.

I get home then what? Then what? He’ll probably ounce on me and break me open like he did that poor man and he’ll kill me, he’ll kill me, I’ll be done for. Who’s going to feed the fish when I’m dead? Who will Mikhail hire?

Oh, Gods, oh Gods. Breathe, breathe.

Onetwothree. Onetwo–BANG!

Lost in your head, tunnel vision worsening, you’d completely lost track of your surroundings, failing to see the wooden cart in front of you. Colliding into it, tipping it over, five dozen apricots spill all over the street. As you push your hands forward to brace your fall, hopefully saving your teeth, the ledger slides underneath you.

Your knees land painfully on the cobblestone, and you let out a horse howl, throat completely battered by the cold air you’d breathed in. In a daze, body pulsing, you immediately scramble for the ledger and rise, hacking out a cough.

Just as you manage to stand and push aside the now-barren wheelbarrow a vice grip wraps around your elbow and pulls you back. Your back collides with your hunter’s chest.

"Stop. Fucking. Running,” the man behind you rasps out. Each word coming out in a tattered croak. It seems like your throat wasn’t the only victim of tonight’s temperature.

You jolt and gasp, completely having forgotten about him. At some point, between the ice-cold breaths, adrenaline, swat and burning muscles your body had begun running on autopilot – like a wild animal you’d run forward, unthinkingly. Suddenly, it all becomes real and a new rush of adrenaline, weak, useless but still there, floods your muscles, yet all you can do is hang your head and try not to upchuck your meager dinner.

Behind you, the man has already begun ventilating normally, and, deliriously, you’re a little jealous of his body’s ability to bounce back so fast after that frantic 10-minute chase. Your knees are still trembling.

Given what he did to that man tonight, he probably just hunts people down all the time, you try to console your ego and–oh no, that man. The crunch of bone comes to your mind for a second time tonight and you gasp again, body going completely limp. The man huffs, and his other hand comes to wrap around your waist, the grip on your arm tightening hard enough to bruise.

“Turn around.”

The answer comes out before you can even stop it.

“No.”

You hear a strangled chortle, and something about that sound causes goose bumps to erupt all over your skin. In a flash he manhandles you to him, turns you around, and shoves you to the wall of a nearby alleyway. Out of the corner of your eye you can see a few flies buzzing all over the bruised-open peaches.

“Look at me,” the man’s voice brokers no room for disagreement.

Finally, you gather all your leftover courage and meet his eyes.

Oh, fuck.

He is not a handsome man, but it makes him even more beautiful a creature. The eye you had assumed was glowing because of the moonlight has in fact a pitch back sclera and the shining is coming from the iris – a bright fluorescent orange that is making unrelenting contact with your own eyes. Something about his eye grates at something at the back of your mind – you’re missing something.

There is a woeful nobility to the line of his jaw and the slope of his nose that had gone unrecognized in the dockyard, your slight nearsightedness be damned. Those strands that he’d so gracefully tucked back a few moments ago had come loose again, to your repressed delight.

Something about the sharp planes of his face is intrinsically beguiling. Beguiling – you’re sure if you voiced that thought it’d be the last time you’d be voicing anything.

The man arches a graceful brow at your silent dissection, and you wonder when the last time was someone dared to look at him so closely. You hope your admiration is not apparent. Maybe it is, because your continued, awed silence makes the one of the corners of his lips twitch.

His amusement embarrasses you and right as you’re about to open your mouth and make a fool of yourself again, the hunter’s eyes cut down to the ledger clutched to your chest – cold recognition dousing the fire of his amusement.

One of the hands that’s braced against the wall, caging you between his warm body and the cold cobblestone at your back, moves to pull the ledger away from your stiff arms. Shocked, you let him have it. You’re not going to risk angering him further and you’re sure as hell not going to do that for Mikhail.

“I assume you must work for Mikhail,” he says matter-of-factly. Your jaw drops, but you recover and nod your head. Suddenly, that tickling in the back of your mind gets stronger.

His eye. The eye. This man is Silco.

Your mouth dries up. This is the man your idiot boss has been smuggling shimmer for. You don’t know how many degrees of separation lie between this man and your boss, but in a roundabout way you suppose he’s your boss now too?

Silco’s eyes twinkle with mirth, while his eyebows climb up his forehead I surprise. You realise you’ve just said that last part out loud.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he concedes. Silco looks down at you again, scrutinizing you like never before. You wonder what he sees. You know you’re still a little flushed from the chase, baby hair wet with sweat and sticking to your forehead, eyes probably still slightly glazed over.

“Given your surprise, and your mediocre run,” you squeak in indignation. “I assume Mikhail has kept you in the dark about his business.”

“Yeah,” you mumble out, when he waits for your answer expectantly.

"Well,” he begins, pulling his other hand from the wall, “in that case, you’re forgiven for wasting my time.” Menace leaks into that last part but you’re too busy missing his arms caging you into the wall to even register it.

As he pulls away from you fully, you take in the rest of him. His complements his body and visage gorgeously. The reds, blacks and dark greys, cut with a beautiful gold trim only enhance his predator-like grace and –

Enough.

While you pull your eyes up, feeling your ears pink, you notice a familiar blue blotch staining the pads of his index and middle fingers of his right hand. In fact, a couple of more blue blotches stain Silco’s clothes, unnoticeable if one doesn’t pay close attention. If one doesn’t know where they’re from.

Your suspicions feel foolish, but after tonight you’re not keen on mistrusting your instincts again. But still, this man? This man? Fathering that darling, thoughtful, mischievous little girl?

“A–are you,” Silco’s eyes quickly move back towards your face and his raised eyebrow implores you to speak.

“Are you Jinx’s father?” you mumble out and push your hair to the side as to obscure your gaze from his intense semi-glare. Your curiosity will get you killed one day. Silco prowls back towards you, closing in on you again, this time with a much, much more menacing aura.

“How do you know her,” he hisses out, “Talk.”

Dazed with fear, and perhaps with a little bit of awe, you nonsensically utter:

“Did you like the fish?"

Silco’s head whips back animatedly, well as animatedly as this man could possibly get, and his brow furrows.

“What?”

“Jinx,” at the utterance of her name his eyes narrow in a silent threat again, “she came to my shop, Mikhail sells fish, and she said that you liked them. She said you liked fish and that she wanted to give you a gift and she–she,” you take a deep breath, slowing down your rapid breathing, “I–I gave her one of the rainbow fish she picked out as your gift.”

At this point, you’ve closed your eyes, preparing for the worst. It doesn’t come – maybe it does? – when a soft chuckle tumbles out of Silco’s lips, warming your chest. You peek at him from under your lashes and the warmth in his eyes flusters you in a way you couldn’t have thought possible.

The tips of his ears have blushed, and he looks so vulnerable in front of you, a stranger, that you wonder if he killed you and this is some death-bed fever dream your rotting mind has conjured up.

He notices your anxiety and clears his throat. Pushing his hair back, he reconstitutes his façade again, and before you is the man you saw first tonight. Beautiful as the night, and twice as cold.

“I did.”

“Huh?”

He huffs, “thank you. I did like the fish.”

With that, he gives you a final nod and tells you that he’ll let Mikhail know you’ve fulfilled your duty, disappearing into the alleyways of the promenade.

“Goodnight,” you whisper into the dark, your feet dragging you home, wondering how the hell is this your life.

#silco x reader

[ahmeddsyed]

Think of Your Feet First

Isn't it time you stood out to the most diligent piece of your body - the foot? The foot is the most powerful construction we have. It works working together with the remainder of the body and is our best actual contact with the climate. There are 206 bones in the human body. A fourth of those are in the feet - 26 bones in each foot. There are additionally fine basket cases in the feet that assist the feet with making those unpretentious developments that empower us to keep our equilibrium and help with strolling and running.

Since our feet are a particularly significant component of our versatility and our everyday communication with our reality, it is fundamental that we treat them with care. cheap flip flops for weddings Perhaps focus on them. At the point when your feet are agreeable, you are agreeable. You can go out and finish the work and the reasoning that goes with it without being hampered by foot torment.

My work has been educating for a considerable length of time and that adds up to a great deal of strolling and standing. I have been irritated for quite a while with excruciating calluses on the chunks of my feet. This caused strolling and thus instructing to be entirely awkward. One day as I was glancing through a shoe list I saw a shoe with "negative heel innovation". With this shoe your heel is marginally lower than your toes with a delicate slope of 3.7 degrees and it upholds a characteristic strolling movement. It eases the heat off the bundle of the foot. I attempted the shoe and was recently astonished. My feet quit harming. I even had more energy since it worked on my stance and advanced better breath. This was an extraordinary method for dealing with my feet and, surprisingly, my body. At the point when your feet are appropriately adjusted it influences the remainder of your actual framework.

Since my involvement in the "negative heel innovation" I have become mindful of other new advancements. There is one called "fitflop microwobbleboard innovation."

We are know about the flipflop that doesn't have a lot of help by any means. This "flop" has a sole with 3 areas of help. There is mid-thickness material in the toe cap to assist with keeping up with speed and increment dependability. Then in the midriff there is low-thickness material. It makes shakiness which makes the muscles in the lower leg work harder. The impact point is high-thickness material so it can ingest a greater amount of the shock of the foot stirring things up around town.

There is actually no justifiable reason for not having a shoe with great help and providing your feet with a great time. We are in the data age and advances in science and wellbeing are occurring at an extremely fast speed. Just let your feet and body exploit them.

#cheap #flip #flop #forweddings

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[iambilliejeanok]

😈Mission gone wrong?😈

Scenario: You have to distract Jiraiya so Itachi and Kisame can kidnap Naruto but that goes horribly wrong in the best way possible 😀

Pairings: Jiraiya x reader. Kisame x Reader x Itachi.

Warnings:18+, very dirty and smutty. Be warned.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Taking in a deep breath, you watched the door knob turn, absolutely regretting everything at this point. If you had to turn back now, you’d ruin the entire mission and would have to face your team mates disappointment, nevermind the entire organization’s. In stepped the man you were sent here to distract, your breath hitching at the sight of him. He stood quite tall, much taller than Kisame you’d say, and he was even bulkier, his solid frame spiking your nerves and anxiety. So this was the legendary Jiraiya that Itachi spoke to you and Kisame about. If he’s so legendary then he might notice I’m just fronting, you thought, but he loved himself a beautiful young lady like you. The mini black dress you wore hugged your curves so sinfully, while the knee high, six inch heels elaborating your already long legs, made you look much taller and even sexier. Jiraiya was ready to empty his load inside you with those long legs wrapped around him.

Biting your lip you awkwardly placed your hands on your hips, trying your best to seem casual and sexy. “Hey there big guy”, you greeted as soon as he closed the door to the hotel room. “Damn you’re way more luscious than I expected, no wonder why they charged me such a hefty price”, he spoke, leaving you wondering if he was expecting an answer, or if he was just thinking out loud. “I hope you can satisfy me sweetheart, it would be a real shame if all my money went to waste”, he said with a frown on his surprisingly handsome face. Swallowing, you tried to keep your cool, forcing a smirk and bringing your hand up to twirl one of your braids, “Of course daddy”, you tried to flirt, dismally failing at that. Jiraiya grunted in either lust or disapproval, already guessing he’d be a little bit much for you. “Strip”, he commanded, making you accidentally cough in surprise. “I’m sorry?”, you blurted, not expecting him to jump right into this so fast. Man you were really bad at this. Itachi and Kisame would kill you themselves if you didn’t get this right. They need time. “Why rush into this when we have the whole afternoon love”, you said, slowly walking over to him, your hips sensually swaying while you were at it. His narrow dark eyes leaving yours for a second to skim over your curves, following them as you came closer, placing your hands on his muscular chest and slowly running them up and over his broad strong shoulders, absolutely stunned that you were enjoying the way he felt under your hands. Grabbing your neck you hissed in surprise, his fingers wrapping around the back and pulling you of off of him. He looked over at your face and he could see the uncertainty in your brown eyes. Little did you know he had long known this was a trap to distract him from Naruto and this was all artist of his plan . “On the bed. Now”, he spoke, his voice loud and stern. Immediately obeying his command, you hurried over to the bed, gulping as came closer, his frame towering over you, making you swallow again. Were you still fooling him? Or did he already know this was your plan. He roughly pushed you back so you fell into the soft mattress. Before you even had a chance to take the next breath he pulled you by your thighs, until your bottom sat right on the edge of the bed, his hands already pushing your dress up, exposing your clothed puss to him.

This was the very first time you were actually engaging in the act of sex and did not expect the act to actually take place. The first time an actual, real, manliest of men ever touched you like this. You were prepared to flirt with him and get him to relax, dragging the situation out as long as you could before Kisame and Itachi would burst in and distract Jiraiya, giving you an opportunity to get away. That was the plan, so how did you end up having a man as masculine and intimidating as Jiraiya sniffing your feminine parts and tracing his thick middle finger along your clothed folds, causing a shiver up your spine. While you struggled to adjust to how spread out your thighs were on his broad shoulders, he hooked his finger into your panties and pulled them right off of you. He was quick with his moves, as though he was in a rush, leaving you no time to get yourself together and push him off of you. The moment you were finally able to realize what was happening after being manhandled like that, you felt his warm breath on your core, making you ache in ways only your imagination would let on, your intense nerves only heightening the experience. You always got extremely horny when you were either nervous or afraid. “No wait!”, you whimpered, the fierce look in his eyes telling you he had no time for little games. He needed to work you up and fuck you so he could get back to other important matters. You placed your hand on his head in an attempt to push him away from your puss, but you gasped when you felt a strong stroke of something warm and wet drag from your wet entrance to your urethra, just missing your clit before repeating. Your hand on his head went from pushing him to gripping onto his thick, white mane. “Oh my god!”, you breathed out in surprise, not expecting the pleasure that coursed through your body like electricity to feel this intense. Instinctively bucking your hips, you pushed forward to try get him to lick the one part of you that throbbed to a point where it hurt, small whines involuntarily leaving your lips.

“Ahhhhh!”, you almost screamed when he finally latched onto your button, sucking so hard you thought you’d explode into a million pieces. It barely took any effort on Jiraiya’s part to get you to turn into a moaning mess, his tongue working your entire pussy before occasionally sucking on your nub. He was so focused on his actions that it seemed to you he didn’t care about how you felt, like he was drinking you up, sucking on your nub yet again, before gently grazing it with his teeth, plus a thick finger stretching your untouched pussy open, the lubrication making it way easier for him to fit in his middle finger to the knuckle making you scream out in a mixture of confusing pleasure and pain. You’d arched your back so hard multiple times, his giant head keeping you open for him to continue his work while his one arm gets you down to the bed. His finger hit a spot inside of you that made you instantly tremble, like your body was being forced into the most intense orgasm of your life. Shutting your eyes tights your cries and screams filled the room, Jiraiya’s mouth still on your nub making you squirt out all over this face, some of your juices falling to the sheets drenching them, the sanin perfectly managing to keep up with the mess you were making, the overstimulation driving you absolutely insane.

In the midst of the intense orgasm you were experiencing, you heard the door bust right open, the edge of your second orgasm quickly catching up with you, the pleasure distracting you from paying attention to what was happening in the room. “Oooh f-fuck!”, you cried, worried that you couldn’t manage to get your shit together during a time like this and because Jiraiya just wouldn’t stop sucking and finger fucking you. In the corner of your eye you thought you saw Itachi and Kisame just standing there, watching the sanin mercilessly eat you out. Your heart skipped a couple of beats, intensifying the second orgasm that took you by surprise. “Ahhhhh!”, you cried out again, your body violently shaking, forcing you shut your eyes to better anchor yourself, your free hand coming up to grip the sheets near your face.

When you finally managed to open your eyes again, your body still shook a little, occasionally shivering while you still whimpered like a puppy, your legs shut and your back still arching in the sexiest sinful way. “Oi, looks like you dismally failed the task y/n”, you heard the familiar voice talk. Your brown eyes shot open, fuck.

“K-kisame”, you said, afraid to meet his gaze and face whatever it was they had for you. You’d just lost them a very important mission. “You can’t even talk? Damn”, Kisame laughed, sitting down on the bed right beside you, his hand slowly rubbing your shivering thigh. Itachi stayed where was, very surprised that you were still drunk on your little orgasm. Is this her first time? He wondered, amazed that something like having someone eating you out would leave you this disoriented. You? A woman he actually didn’t want to mess with, in such an adorable mess over getting your nub sucked on? Your nub...pretty. He thought, cocking his head to side to continue eyeing your slick cooch, Kisame casually holding your thigh up so he could get a better look, benefiting the two of them. “Seems like that legend really made a mess out of you y/n”, Kisame teased, your cheeks flushing at the sudden realization. Kisame and Itachi were both analyzing your private. “I-tachi, Kisame”, you managed to say. “I’m sorry”. You’d never felt so worthless and ashamed in your life. “I’m not a whore, it just happened so fast”, you tried to defend yourself when you saw their expressions unchanging. You noticed Jiraiya wasn’t there anymore. When Itachi saw the slight confusion on your face he spoke, “That was simply a shadow clone”, his dark eyes set on your dripping pussy, hungrily licking his lips. You would just run away forever you figured, the thought making you feel a little less terrible. Trying to shut your thighs together you felt a resistance. Kisames larger hand keeping you wide open, adding to the disgrace you felt you were. Looking over at him you whined, “Please let me get dressed. I’ll leave”, you started to say before Itachi cut you off. “But you’re a mess. Let’s get you all cleaned up before we leave”, Itachi spoke, nearing you with every word. Were they going to clean you up? Why? “No thanks I’m good, I’ll just go”, you almost desperately pleaded.

“Yes. As soon as we clean you up you can leave”, Itachi said, placing a cold hand on your other thigh, spreading you even wider. His other other hand came up to his mouth, dipping his middle and index fingers inside to start sucking on them, getting them all nice and warm for you. “Fuck, you smell so good y/n…let me taste you?”, Kisame asked, leaning forward and placing his arm over your thigh, leaving you trapped with your pussy right in his face. Licking his lips, your teammate looked up at you for approval, noticing the bewildered expression on your face. “I’ll just clean you up, and then we can go…like you asked”, he said, hoping you’d be a little more convinced. Shyly, you nodded your head and at that moment Kisame went straight for lapping at your pussy, forcing his tongue inside of your tight cunt in desperation, the stretch making you moan aloud, gripping into his hair to slow him down. His tongue kept on exploring you, traveling over your clit, flicking it hard with his tongue, making you moan even louder since you were now so sensitive. “Kisame!”, you cried in such a sexy way, making the man between your legs growl before slowly suckling on your tender button, alternating between hard licking and gentle sucking, quickly driving you to the edge. Itachi could not take his eyes off of you, such a strong woman like you falling apart under a man’s touch. Interesting.

Itachi finally pulled his fingers out of his mouth, immediately burying both of them into your heat, his dick twitching at your reaction, your back arching and your hand immediately death gripping his wrist, the sexiest cry leaving your lips. His sharingan rapidly spun at the sight, he barely got to the knuckle and you already couldn’t handle it. She’s so tight, he thought, it really must be her first time. Kisame began focusing on your clit, his sideways position forcing him to roughly flick your clit in left to right strokes, before stopping to suck hard, distracting you from Itachi’s actions, making you fall back into the sheets and scream out loud. How could the two men that you feared and respected also reduce you to an independent needy mess. You felt so weak. But you also felt so good. Itachi pushed his fingers a little deeper inside of you, settling for a fast and rough pace when he found your gspot, immediately making you gush like a tap, your screaming like music to Kisames ears, enjoying the way you drenched his face, literally drinking you up like your pussy was a fountain. “Ahhh, there you go”, Itachi spoke, letting go of your thigh to bury that hand into your hair, tugging your head up so you could look at him. “Maybe if you cum a few more times just like you did right now for me, I’ll feel better about the failure of this mission y/n”, he said. “B-but…. Ooooohhhh!!!!!”, your grunted, Kisame never ceasing his actions while Itachi slowly rubbed your gspot. “What’s the matter y/n? Now you can’t talk? Answer me”, he groaned, moving his fingers a little quicker, adding a little more pressure. “Ahhhhhhh!!!! M-muuuuchhh oooohhhhh! P-please!”, you babbled, Itachi gruesomely finger fucking you to orgasm, your body now violently shaking, the strength of the two men keeping you right where they needed you. When you calmed, his fingers started moving again, long whines instantly leaving your lips. “Again. Until I feel better”, Itachi said, coming back up to hold your other thigh open. It didn’t matter if you were crying, screaming and kicking. Itachi was obsessed with watching you squirt and Kisame unable to quench his need to keep tasting you. Your team mates used you like this, and took turns carrying you back to the hideout, mildly conversing about doing this again. Maybe even fuck you next time.

#naruto imagines #ilovemyweirdendings #jiraiya x you #jiraiya imagines #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya smut #itachi x reader x kisame #uchiha itachi x reader #not daddy itachi being such a meanie😭😩i wanna cry 🥺🙊 #itachi smut #kisame x y/n #kisame x reader #kisame smut #kisame #nsft post

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Was This Vacation a Mistake?~Crazy Rich Asians (Astrid x black! fem! reader)~Part 2

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 

Summary: After your dreamy run in with Astrid, you meet up with her again at a bachelorette trip as things escalate with your presence there around other young rich women. Luckily for you, Rachel and Astrid remain at your side, even when things look bleak.

Word Count: 2, 708

Author’s Note: Ya’ll it’s here after 7 million years. I’m sorry if it’s been awhile with other fics but I’m slowly but surely getting to them. Hope you guys enjoy this! Comment and let me know how it’s going. I published chapter 2 guys! 2022 starting right!

“I can’t believe Nick’s rich rich,” I said before flopping onto the massive bed you had in your own suite. 

Rachel joined you, munching on a large cookie that was offered to the both of us as we returned to the hotel after an exhausting night. Of course Rachel was put on the spot as expected, but I’m still reeling from what happened to me. Was Astrid just being nice, or was she really--no. Ollie would have known, he’s the eyes and ears. Right?

“Y/N, are you even listening?” Rachel said. 

I nodded a bit too quickly. Rachel flopped onto her back to stare me down with those deep, brown eyes that always saw through a white lie whenever they ran from me. A perk and curse for knowing someone since high school. 

“What happened?” she said. “You haven’t spoken about it much. You hardly touched all that food Nick’s mother’s servants made either.” 

I deflated at her words.

“A lot happened,” I admitted. “It’s along the lines of something you wouldn’t understand.”

Rachel nodded and rubbed my knee. 

“I know, we may be the strongest minority alliance but--”

“We deal with a lot of different issues,” I said, finishing it. 

The unspoken rule of what happens if we don’t feel like talking about a certain microaggression or something infuriating racist that occurs. We’d eventually talk about it and sometimes we don’t. 

“Whatever it is, we can leave if you don’t feel safe,” Rachel said. She placed the remaining half of her cookie in it’s wrapper on the dresser to the right of the grand bed. 

Her arms found themselves around me. I melted into the embrace while she rubbed my shoulders gently. 

“I’m here all night,” Rachel said. “If anyone bothered you, you’d tell Nick right?”

I nodded against her chest. 

“Yeah. You’re my best friend Rachel, I’d tell you too, it’s just,” I paused to gather my thoughts. “Someone came to my rescue, surprisingly.” 

Rachel hummed and rocked us back and forth. 

“Are you going to tell me who?” she asked. 

“Yeah, don’t know if you know her,” I said. “But her name is Astrid. Nick’s cousin, I believe?” 

Rachel jumped and gasped, nearly scaring me to death. I turned to see a smile on her face with teeth and all. 

“Astrid? Sweet, beautiful Astrid?” she said. 

“Um, yeah,” I said, trying not to grow flushed with her holding me like this. “Stunning in fact, gorgeous even. She’s got this beauty mark that’s--ah! I need to chill!”

Rachel’s mouth gaped open, eyes wide with a combination of shock and humor. 

“You’ve got a crush.”

“No I don’t,” I said. Answered fast again, another lie Rachel saw through. 

“Please, I haven’t heard you talk about a person like that since Donnie Carr,” Rachel explained.

I buried my face into the covers, feeling a scream coming on. 

“Why’d you have to mention them?” 

Rachel giggled. 

“You were head over heels in love, and I didn’t hear the end of it when they had to transfer schools junior year.”

“Yeah, it was high school and I still don’t believe in love anymore,” I said as I sat up and held a pillow close to my chest.

“Well, maybe Astrid can change that,” Rachel suggested.

I wanted to toss the pillow at her face, yet I still had some restraint. 

“Yeah, let me ask out a divorcee, and a mother. Really Rachel? Even, Ollie revered to himself as a rainbow sheep of the family.”

 “Oh? Ollie came to the rescue too?” Rachel said with an eyebrow raised.

“Rachel! I’m being serious!” I groaned.

“I know, but you have to try!”  Rachel said. “Did she just defend you or did she flirt? I’m not going to ask if you flirted, you go blank with crushes.”

“I do not!” 

Rachel gave me an incredulous look before I continued. 

“Ok, she did say my name was cute and rubbed my arm but I wouldn’t call that flirting,” I said. “She was just being kind.”

“Rubbing your arm? Nick did that to me when I started acting nervous, and he just wasn’t being kind. Look where we are now.”

“Rachel,” I said. “It’s not the same.”

“How come?” Rachel said before resting her chin on the crown of my head. “You’re a catch and very intelligent.”

I nodded and untangled myself from her to keep a distance between us while I inhale, then exhale. 

“Yeah, but there are many factors when it comes to Astrid,” I said. 

“Oh yeah?” Rachel said. “She’s got an amazing accent. British, just the way you like, dreamy as Hugh Grant and Tom Hiddleston, you like her’s is even better if I had to guess.”  

“Rachel, Astrid is a divorcee with a child,” I said. “A child she had with a man. Rachel, she’s most likely straight. I shouldn’t crush on a straight woman again, especially after that Bumble date a few years back.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. 

“The bio said looking for a third, you should have reread miss English professor,” Rachel said. “Isn’t that like the thing you tell your students all the time?”

“It was tiny!” I whined. “The font she used was hard to read as well.”

“Well, Astrid isn’t like that. I’m sure, I’ve known her longer than you and she’s the sweetest,” Rachel said. “And Nick’s cousin so, believe me.”

“But what if she’s just being really nice,” I said. “There are overtly nice people who are touchy. But she might not like women like me.”

Rachel took my hands, holding tightly before tilting her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m sure she finds hot English professors lovely,” Rachel harped. “Besides, she came to help you, if she didn’t like you, she would have joined in the laughing and the microaggressions.” 

“Yeah,” I said. I watched Rachel’s hands move to my arms in an attempt to calm the nerves that bristled up since our conversation began. It wasn’t just her touch but my mind wondering back to Astrid and so much attention she brought to me, making me feel safe.

“You all right?” Rachel asked, her voice low that I could hardly hear. “My offer still stands, we can still go home.”

I shook my head, smiling to make Rachel grin as well.

“I can’t go home yet, we’ve got to look out for each other,” I said. Rachel giggled before raising her eyebrow a few times, silently urging me to continue. “And get to know Astrid a bit more.”

Rachel hugged me in a giddy fit prior to moving to her side of the bed, bidding me a goodnight. I replied, turned off the lamp and squirmed under the covers to mend my warping thoughts and mind.

...

The bacholorette party was on another Singaporean island that we flew to on a private jet. Nick’s friend’s friend and the bacholorette of the hour, Araminta was invited along with the rest of us to go on an expensive shopping spree thanks to some of Nick’s snobby, yet fashionable (and rather loaded) cousins. They gave me weird looks, but no microaggressions came or any word of me being a servant or lower. They allowed me to go on the spree as well, except that I couldn’t afford much of this due to my salary which went mostly to rent and those frequent visits to the cafe off campus. Doesn’t mean I can’t look, right? 

I found myself moving through a section of their makeshift store, raising a brow at all the prices while keeping a neutral look. There was this lavender dress with sparkles and silky feel, a bit small for me but still cute. 

“That would be a nice color on you.”

My body jolted at the sudden warm voice that flooded my ears. 

Astrid Leong herself wearing a blue, button down blouse, khakis and adorable black flats. She removed the shades she wore, baring a soft grin and her beautiful wavy hair. Concern soon clouded her face at my surprise.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Astrid said. “Y/N, right?”

I nodded. 

“Sorry I had to bolt last night,” she explained. She stepped closer, eyes on the clothes before us as she carried on with the conversation. “My son can’t get put down to bed without a story every night.”

I couldn’t stop staring at her perfect side profile; the wisps of hair that stuck out due to her shades resting on top of her head. Focus Y/N! Don’t stare too much and get to know her more. Son. Ollie said she was divorced. Stories, what kind does she read to him?

“What stories get the tike to sleep?” I said while looking at another amazing dress that most likely is not my size and out of my price range. 

“The Little Prince,” Astrid said. “Cassian’s already asking for more chapter books and he’s only in first grade.”

“That’s great, wish my kids were more enthusiastic about reading.”

Astrid’s eyes met yours as she raised an eyebrow.

“You have children?” she asked. 

Now I gushed for real this time: heat rising to both my chest and cheeks in an instant. 

“Ah! No. The students I teach,” I said. “Usually college freshmen who can barely read a fifteen page article without giving me lip.”

Astrid’s smile grew. “You teach?” she said. “With Rachel right, at NYU?”

Her enthusiasm made my entire body flare before I nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been teaching English and Creative Writing for three years now,” I said. “Doesn’t pay as much as it should but it’s fun. Doing my part in cultivating future generations I suppose.” 

Astrid nodded along with me. Her lips curled into a brighter grin, forcing my heart rate to skyrocket. 

“That’s fascinating. A beauty with such a fine mind, how does Nick run into you?” she said with a chuckle. “Maybe all of the traveling.”

It’s a complement only, right? God, where is Rachel when I need her? I decided to play off Astrid’s words (flirty words, maybe?) with a wave of a hand and a nervous laugh. 

“You have Cassian, and New York isn’t as great as they say,” I said.

Astrid shrugged. 

“Not as great as the people, right?” she said, eyeing me the entire time. 

Thanks to my mental call, Rachel darted by with bundles of clothes in her arms and other bacholerette party goers at her heels, tearing through racks of clothes like its second nature.

“Y/N. And Astrid, hey,” Rachel said, insinuating something that she shouldn’t. My face burned at the thought. 

“Hey Rach! Are you buying all of that?”

Rachel shook her head; Astrid and I went to assist her with putting most of the stuff back it’s respective racks. 

“So, did I interrupt something?” Rachel said. “Seems like you and Astrid were having a grand convo.” 

“No, I was just telling her how crappy New York actually is,” I said. “Tell her about it Rach, you know.”

Rachel shrugged. 

“Depends. Nick liked it so you might Astrid,” she said. “You might like Y/N a bit more though, just saying.”

I nudged Rachel in an attempt to stop her but Astrid chuckled anyway. 

“I think I will too.”

...

The small talk among the three of us calmed a bit as we all walked back to our own respective cabins. Astrid still payed attention to what I said, but her eyes didn’t linger on me to put a blush on me (at least when I noticed). Rachel didn’t tease me at all, keeping the conversation on us and university rather than me being a catch for Astrid. 

“All I’m saying is that Toni Morrison is a better author to discuss than Hemmingway,” I said as we walked up to Rachel and I’s shared cabin. 

Silence followed as I blinked up at Astrid and Rachel’s shocked faces. I chased their gaze toward our cabin, now defaced with red paint and the words: “You and your monkey go back to America.” The words n-word lover was sprayed across it too, making my heart leap and jump more in my chest. 

“Y/N?” Rachel said, hands already against my face. “I-”

Astrid took my hand. Both of us were at a loss, but the anger still boiled inside. I knew this trip was a horrible idea from the start. 

“It’s not safe here,” Astrid said. “I’ll call Nick and get you two set up at my place. I’m so sorry this happened Y/N.” 

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[drakenology]

Baby, Have My Babies - Ejiro Kirishima

summary: you and your pro hero fiancé take a romantic getaway for valentines day with one thing on his mind; baby making.

author’s note: oh hai! so this baby is for the corruption event @ultimate-astridwriting and @bummie is hosting for valentines day! shout out to them for including me 🥺. check out the other works that participated and as always enjoy!

warnings: smut! (minors no peeking!), breeding kink, use of the word “daddy” in the sack, unprotected sex, soft dom!kiri, prohero!kiri (the big bulky one with the long hair), dirrrrty talk, I cuss a lot and Kiri nuts a lot. all characters are aged up!

The night Kirishima proposed was a beautiful valentine’s night to remember. There you were, at one of the most expensive restaurants anyone could sit at in the middle of Bora Bora (your dream vacation spot), head empty. Just the image of your boyfriend, now fiancé kneeling down on one knee to pop the prettiest question.

“Will you marry me, baby?”, Crimson eyes full of love and adoration for you and only you as you gasp, your breath stolen as you watch him pull out the biggest diamond fucking ring you’d ever seen. Of course you said yes. Why the fuck wouldn’t you?

That same night you arrive at a hotel you were staying at in Bora Bora (the most romantic location to spend your valentines day). Kirishima saw to it that yours and his things would be taken up to the suite he had already reserved and decorated to surprise you.

You open the door swiftly, Kirishima’s chest swelling with pride when he hears your girlish squeal at the sight of the romantic decor (all done by yours truly). Flower pettles littered the carpet leading to the bed where countless gifts and a huge teddy bear rested. The room was covered in candles and roses and love. It smelled sweet like vanilla as a slow piano track played softly in the background. It was like a page out of a romance novel just opened up right in front of you.

Your eyes well up with tears at the wonderful gesture. Kirishima was always a romantic; his love language being gift giving and grand gestures, but he truly out did himself tonight. As you exclaim oo’s and ah’s at all of the suites glory you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

“You like it, honey?” He asked, leaving a trail of fluttering kisses along your neck as you swoon at his touch.

“I love it. I love you, Kiri.” Gushing as you spin around on your heels to reach up and kiss him. Instinctively, He hoists you into his loving arms; your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands firmly gripping your ass as one falls to push all the teddy bears off the bed he needed you in.

He lays you carefully onto the bed and admired your body from way up there (boy is tall), drinking you in and groaning at the sight of your face looking up at him all flushed and innocent-like. God, he couldn’t wait to ruin you completely and thoroughly.

“I’ve been thinking baby..” Kiri started to say, ripping your poor dress in half with his seemingly handcrafted hands and chuckling at your high pitched squeak. “What if..” after pressing a wet kiss on your midriff, trailing the attention down just above where you wanted him. “..we tried *kiss* for a *kiss* baby..?”

You shudder at his minstrations, biting your lip as you feel him prod his thick fingers over your clothed pussy. You wince at the sound of his groan at the feeling of your wet pussy practically sticking to your panties.

“So whaddya say?” He persisted, cock growing at the burning question. You were already so drunk on him, his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses over your covered heat causing you to slowly lose focus on anything other than the thought of just being railed already.

“M-Mm-hm..” You manage, nodding your head as you feel Kirishima smirk against your panties.

“You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me fuck that cunt? Hm?” At this point he’s slurping on your pussy as he’s talking to you with that filthy mouth of his. God yes, you wanted to say but he’s devouring so good the only thing you can say is his title.

“D-Daddy! Ughhn fuck.” You cry, nearing your end surprisingly fast as his soft lips wrap around your aching clit.

“C’mon, baby. Cum all over my fucking mouth.” He huffed against you, humming into your pussy as he reattached his lips onto the throbbing bud. You arch your back up off the bed, toes curling and eyes rolled at the back of your head as you do as you were told.

Curses leave your lips as Kirishima continues his assault on your pussy, fucking you through your orgasm and working on a second one as he now has those fingers inside you. You gasp, whimpering as he hooked his fingers just like always to drive you crazy. Works everytime.

“Daddy, p-please. S’too much!” You lament, trying to pry your poor overstimulated pussy away from the hungry beast devouring you.

Kirishima loves when you try to escape him; an ego trip floating in his mind as he watched you writhe and struggle to leave his strong grasp.

“Uh-uh baby, where ya goin’?” He teased, latching his mouth onto your pussy as he fingered you. His lips were replaced by his warm tongue, licking and sucking as he stroked your walls with his fingers. You melt under his touch, worrying that the other guests staying on your floor could hear your desperate cries for more.

“God, give it to me. Fuckin’ give it to me.” Kiri soothed, feeling your hands tangle into his long red tresses as another orgams ripped through your whole body. Your thighs clamp around his head as you shake like a leaf. He paused for a moment to take in your half-ruined body, hungry for the satisfaction completely railing you into a stuttering mess.

Kirishima sits right up and grabs your face to plant a sinful kiss, tongues tasting each other as moans exchange between the two of you.

He pulls away, slick coating his chin as he hoisted himself on top of you. He propped himself up on one arm, the other taking his bulging cock into his hand to tease against your dripping folds.

“So fucking wet, baby.” He panted, “Ready for me? Want my dick inside you? Huh baby?” He cooed, the only thing he can hear is an out of breath and whiny little baby begging for his dick.

Kirishima sat up, pulling you off the bed as he wrapped your legs around him. You mewl at his brut strength, him lifting you with such ease throwing you for a loop. You wrap your arms around his neck as he prodded himself at your soaking wet pussy, sinking your body down onto him as you both moan at the feeling.

“Gonna fill you so fucking good. You like that? You love it when I fuck you like this, dont you?” He rambled, your gummy walls felt so good wrapped around his swollen cock. His hands gripped your ass as he slammed you down onto his dick, the sudden deepness causing your nails to sink into his back.

You shriek everytime your pussy took him in, back arching as the head brushed up against your g-spot. Your legs are shaking again, watching your feet as they dangle at either side of Kirishima’s body. His thrusts are strong, purposeful as he used you like a fuck toy all while standing up.

Your pussy made embarrassing noises, Kirishima commenting as the assault continued more forcefully.

“Shiiit. I love your fucking pussy. So wet. All for me, yeah?” Your response frantic nonsense.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Yes, daddy. G-give me more.” And so he does; his grip on your hips tighten as he slams you down slower and harder repeatedly hitting your g-spot at a new angle as he hunched over with you in his arms.

He started thrusting up into you, his large hand smacking down on your ass as he pounded you into nirvana.

“Mmm, you feel so fucking good, baby. Want me to fill you? You like it when I stuff you, huh?”

There was the familiar feeling coming yet again, stomach flipping and eyes fluttering as you sob into Kirishima’s neck.

“God, yes daddy! Cum inside me please, I-I need it.” You gripe, grabbing hold of one of your breasts as you attempt to grind into his thrusts in time with him.

“You need it, baby? Oh, I’m gonna give it to you. Just cum one more time for me.” He huffed, the feeling of your sopping wet walls clamping down onto him slowly becoming too much.

You pant, your face pulling into that little fucked out face Kirishima loved as you scream his name. Your whole body ignites, curses leaving your mouth as you cream all over his dick.

“Yeahhhh. That’s it baby. ‘M gonna fill you-fuck! I love you.” Kirishima said frantically; rutting into as few times before unloading himself inside you.

You feel his cum fill you up deliciously, the feeling of his dick throbbing inside you as he oozed causing you to whine. You feel him fuck his cum inside you; eager to breed you before pulling you off of his cock with a satisfied groan.

“Fuck sake.” He gasped. You were always such a good fuck. It should be illegal for your pussy to be that good. As he pulled out of your used hole, you felt the thick liquid drip out of you as Kirishima carried you to the master bathroom which was also candlelit.

“Let’s get cleaned up and keep this going. I can’t wait to see you waddling with my baby inside you.” He manifested. You hum into his chest as he cradled you like precious cargo, running the hot water for a bath for two.

“Love you” You slur, lazily dipping a finger into the bath.

“Ditto, babe.”

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