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luandti · 1 year

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Museum AU (snippet)

Lucy Chen was angry. At HIM. Again.

“Is this really necessary?” she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at Tim Bradford, Head of Security.

He gave her an annoyed look in response.

“Listen, Chen. I do an important job here. Not all of us can make a living out of painting pictures of naked men.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. He knew damn well that wasn’t what her job was (she was actually an art teacher who worked in museum education). But ever since he had confiscated her flyers, looking for nude models for an art class, he made fun of her. Her co-worker Rachel had commented that it was a shame Tim Bradford didn’t volunteer because he was quote “fine as hell”. Lucy did absolutely not think about him naked after that, ever.

“What’s going on?” that was Angela Lopez who worked with Tim in security and from Lucy’s experience so far she was actually nice. Although, she looked pretty intimidating right now.

“I couldn’t get into the museum because my access card doesn’t work. Mr. super cop over there”, Lucy made an annoyed pointing gesture with her head in Tim’s direction, “pretends he doesn’t know who I am and sticks to protocol.”

Angela looked between them for a second. And Lucy could swear there was a gleam in her eye. “He called the cops on you?”

“I did not call the cops!”, Tim sounded exasperated. “I simply have to manually check her ID to make sure she actually works here”.

“You KNOW I work here”, Lucy said through gritted teeth.

Angela definitely had a gleam in her eye.

“Bradford”, Nyla Harper’s voice, laced with authority, came from accross the entrance hall. “You had your fun, now let her through”. Nyla was the co-head of security and Lucy loved her because she usually treated Tim like an annoying little brother.

Tim ignored Nyla. But after making a show out of looking closely at Lucy’s face and afterwards at her ID photo, he gave it back to her and let her pass. Angela promised she would be in touch as soon as they found out what was going on with her card.

“Ugh, he is the WORST”, Lucy was still angry when she entered the office which she shared with Rachel and Tamara, her roommate and intern.

“Tim again?”, Rachel asked and exchanged a meaningful glance with Tamara which Lucy choose to ignore.

“Why does he have to annoy me all of the time?”

“Are you sure that is what he does?” Tamara sounded amused.

“What are you implying?”

“I don’t know... I always thought he is kinda flirting with you?”

Lucy tried not to blush but failed. “He is not!”

She heard Tamara whisper “sure” under her breath and choose to ignore that, too.

The truth was Lucy had no idea what exactly she and Tim had going on. Sometimes she thought there might be something flirty there - especially after Nyla’s wedding last year when he had asked her to dance with him and actually smiled at her.

From the start she had not been intimidated by his tough exterior but seen it as a challenge. Sometimes she was extra cheerful whenever she intercated with him and in return he pretended to be annoyed by that. They had played pranks on each other, starting with Lucy stealing his money from him after he had lectured her about keeping her backpack in an “unsecure place” while she led a group of kindergartners through the museum (she had left her backpack in the break room like everyone else).

Sometimes they do share intimate stuff with each other, too. For example when Lucy had found out about Tim’s wife, Isabel, a former employee at the service desk who had been fired when she, repeatedly, came to work high. After not seeing her for over a year, Tim caught her stealing money from the museum. He had tried to cover up for her. But Lucy had seen him and decided to talk him out of it. She told him that he would regret helping Isabel. He had been angry with her at the time. But the next day she saw him entering Grey’s office. The museum director was generally a kind employer but he had reported Isabel to the police after that.

In the almost two years that had passed since then, Lucy had absolutely not asked Angela about Isabel at one point and had totally not felt a fluttery feeling in her chest when Angela had told her that after Isabel’s return from rehab, she and Tim had decided to get divorced.

Last May, when Lucy’s abusive ex-boyfriend Caleb had tried to contact her again and Lucy had been scared, Tim had noticed and walked her home from work for a month after that.

When her best friend Jackson, a fashion model, had been in a car accident and Lucy couldn’t find out what was going on, it was Tim who called one of his cop friends for information and later drove her to the hospital.

So, Lucy knew that Tim was actually a good peson. He was generally liked among his co-workers, too. Angela and him seemed to be best friends even.

But still there were a lot of times when Lucy and Tim were at each others throats. Like when she had tried to recruit naked models for her adult art class: Tim had taken all of her flyers away and said they were against museum policy. Lucy knew he had made that up.

Or the time when Lucy was so angry at him because he thought about marrying his then girlfriend Ashley, although, she didn’t like his dog, Kojo? What was he thinking?

------

Tim Bradford watched as Lucy Chen finally walked towards the elevators. Maybe he had been a bit over the top this morning, of course he knew who she was and there actually wasn’t any protocol which forced him to double check her ID. But he always enjoyed ruffling her feathers a bit.

“Timothy, you do know that you are beeing pretty obvious, right?”

Tim spun around, giving Angela what he hoped was an outraged look.

Angela couldn’t stop a teasing smile from appearing on her lips. “Ohhh... you really do like her then.”

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head gathering all of his patience.

“Ang... please not this again, he started walking back towards their office next to the Museum’s gigantic wooden entrance doors.

Angela followed him. “Tim is in looove”

“Angela! Stop it.” He opened the door to the small room full of monitors showing surveillance footage.

Entering behind him Angela was about to say something when Tim let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t want to talk about her, ok? Besides, she would never consider dating me.”

“Why are you so sure about that?”

“She knows about Isabel, ok? About what I almost did for her? How I couldn’t stop my wife from becoming a drug addict. How I was so bad at marriage that she choose to live on the street...”.

Angela stared at him for a moment. “So that is why you don’t ask her out? because you are ashamed of your divorce?”

Tim ignored her and sat down to go through his paperwork.

“Tim, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard”, Angela announced. “I am pretty sure Lucy is into you..”.

That caught Tim’s interest “Why would you say that?”

Angela rolled her eyes at him “I have told you this before you idiot: she asks me stuff about you sometimes.” Laughing quietly she added “she probbaly thinks she is low-key about it but she is really not.”

Tim thought about that for a minute. “Doesn’t matter she is dating that Chris guy from PR”. Tim said “Chris” with obvious distaste.

“No, they actually broke up a month ago”, none of them had realized that Smitty, the janitor, had stepped into the office.

“Smitty, do I wanna know how you found that out?” Angela asked carefully.

“I overheard her talking to Rachel”, Smitty revealed innocently.

“He still hasn’t ask her out, then?” Nyla appeared behind Smitty and Tim covered his face with his hands. Why was everyone involved in this?

“Oh, Timmy, don’t be sad”, Nyla gave him a playful clap on the shoulder.

“When you don’t ask her, I will...” Smitty couldn’t even finish his sentence before Angela and Nyla said in unison “No! Not again”.

Tim had enough. He walked past them, out of the building and took a deep breath on the sidewalk in front of Thorsen Art Museum.

---

I had the idea for this AU in my head for a while but I don’t have the patience or the time to write full fics (sorry ;)). But I wanted to bring it to life somehow. So here is a fraction of a Chenford Museum AU. I hope you enjoy this. Also I am sorry for any language mistakes.

Btw this is what I envision AU Lucy’s apartement to look like.

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stranger-awakening · 2 years

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since it’s been five years since dunkirk was released i feel like we don’t talk enough about how strong the harry styles girlies who went to see a literal war movie in cinemas were. y’all are braver than i could ever hope to be

#i've seen it but i didn't go and watch it in cinemas because i hate war movies and i'm so right for that #and i only watched it after i learned that aneurin was in it too which .... god christopher nolan you Owe me for that #i don't know anyone who actually saw it but i can imagine the cinema just being a bunch of dads and then teenage girls #and that's an insanely funny image to me #obviously not all hs fans are teenage girls but i think its safe to say that they were at the time either teenagers or early 20s #jess rants about life

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writingsonsaturn · 2 months

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Tim having a younger girlfriend who gets princess treatment from him, she very obviously in love with Tim, and nobody at the station believes he has a girlfriend, so one day she shows up and work and everyone gets to see and meet her and see just how much she has Tim wrapped around her finger <3

Sorry if it doesn't make sense

puppy love - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: hopefully this lives up to what you were thinking!! i did my best to capture all the main elements that you wanted in the story <33

word count: 1039

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Tim was notorious for being a hardass, his rough demeanor and strict ways of teaching made him seem like a total douchebag, for lack of a better word.

However, for you, he was a ball of sunshine, just don't let anyone else know that.

Tim was awoken to the deafening sound of his alarm clock, he looked over at the red numbers, the clock reading “6:00am”, he sighed and reached a hand over to turn the blaring sound off. He turned over at the movement of your sleeping body, his hand now brushing through your hair with a small smile on his lips, waking up wasn't so bad when he got to see your face every morning.

You woke up gently at the new warmth that was on your head, “do you have to leave today?” you whispered with annoyance, one eye looking at him while the other stayed shut hoping to retain some sleep “unfortunately i do, baby, but i'll be home in time for our date” he responds, leaning over and kissing your forehead.

He gets out of bed and heads for the closet putting on his uniform, once he’s done getting ready he reaches for his duty belt and gun that he keeps in his nightstand. Finally he leans over to give you one last kiss goodbye, “i love you, i’ll text you on break” you felt his lips move, “i love you too, be safe and come home to me” you respond as he walks out of the room gently shutting the door.

You shortly go back to sleep to get extra shuteye before having to go to your 9:00 am psychology class.

===

Tim made it to work early, going into the locker room and putting his duffle bag full of extra clothes and little snacks that you had snuck in there “just in case”, once he left the locker room he made his way to the debriefing room. “Hey Tim, you still owe me the 13 bucks for that burrito i bought you last week” Angela points out, while walking in behind him “ah right” he groans pulling out his wallet simply forgetting the little photo he kept of you in there.

The photo fell on the ground as Tim pulled out the cash, Angela reached down holding the picture “who is that?” she wonders while looking at the piece of paper “my girlfriend” he responds while holding out the $13, “you? You have a girlfriend?” she jokes “yeah, and i'm a millionaire” she finished sarcastically and walked away to sit down in her seat.

Tim just silently rolled his eyes and put your photo back in the safety of his wallet, after Grey gave his briefing, Angela and Nyla both started talking about Tim’s “girlfriend” the others overheard and suddenly everyone knew about Tim’s private life.

“Tim has a girlfriend?” Lucy questioned, while walking over the group and grinning. “That’s what he claims, when he was paying me back a photo slipped out of his wallet and when i asked who it was he said it was his girlfriend, but i don't know who would torture themselves like that” she explained, Nolan had his eyebrows raised “come on guys, Tim can’t be that bad” Nolan continued “he probably just doesn't like us” he smiled making the others laugh.

“Okay! Are you guys ready to stop being a bunch of highschoolers and gossiping about my love life so we can, I don't know, do our job?” Tim dead panned, they all quietly snickered, and some started getting ready to head out.

Tim heard the faint call of his name, and fast feet, “Tim! you forgot your lunch!” you spoke quickly while softly jogging towards him. “That’s what i forgot, thank you baby” Tim mentally smacked himself for forgetting the meal you had prepared for him the night before. You smiled at him, rushing as you had to get back to the campus as you had a final in 45 minutes.

Everyone looked slightly gobsmacked, realizing that Tim was in fact not lying about having a girlfriend, Angela came up to the love sick couple, “so you’re the pretty lady Tim keeps in his wallet” she spoke with playfulness, “you must be Angela! Tim talks about you all the time, im (Y/N)” you introduced yourself with a big smile. Tim smiled at you with all the love in the world, looking at you while you introduced yourself to his friends and colleagues.

“As much as i would absolutely love talking to you guys more, i have a really important test i have to go take” you explained with haste, everyone was extremely understanding and wished you good lucks, “One last thing, Tim, before you come home will you please pick up milk from the store? I used it all this morning” everyone looked at Tim awaiting his response “Yes ma’am” he complied, you kissed his cheek and gave everyone a last goodbye before leaving.

“Man she has you utterly whipped” Aaron spoke, while shaking his head, “yeah, you are so done for sir” Celina giggled. Tim looked at both of them with a stern face immediately making them shut up and get back to doing whatever they were doing.

“I'm glad you found someone Tim, you deserve a good person” Lucy quietly mentioned, Tim gave a silent nod of acknowledgement letting Lucy know that what she said meant a lot to him as she left and continued on with her duties.

Tim carried on with his day, doing paperwork, and counting the minutes until he came home to you.

Once he got off of work, he made sure he picked up milk and even got you you're favorite snack, as soon as he got home you two made dinner together and sat at the kitchen table, you told him how you’re very sure you passed your final with flying colors, and he told you about the mountains of paperwork that made him wish he was in bed watching a stupid reality show with you instead.

When it was time for bed you and Tim continued to talk about random thoughts, and your futures together before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x younger!reader #reader insert

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incorrectbatfam · 4 months

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Types of obnoxious batfam stans

Written by an obnoxious batfam stan

Not really a rant but something I've noticed over the years interacting in different spaces and I've decided to make your problem now.

Please note that I'm not saying there's any "right" way to be a fan because we all suck by virtue of being comic nerds, but there are certain kinds of batfamily fans that stick out to be in particular.

Anywho, here are 12 kinds of annoying batfam stans that you've probably run into and you better get a laugh out of it *points gun to your head*.

1) The Newbies Who Never Heard of Google

There's no shame in being new to something. It's a phase that we're all guaranteed to go through, whether we're 11 or 101. However, in this day and age, so many things can be easily googled that you don't need to shout every question you have into the VVorld VVide VVoid. If you need comic recs or a reading list, google it. If you wanna know a character's origin story, google it. If you need to know the color of Batman's underpants in a particular issue in 1965... well that's probably too specific for Google but Reddit will definitely have an answer.

2) The Middle School Authors

Before the 13-year-olds get up in my notes, I'm not saying everyone that age writes like this. Middle school is a state of mind. These fanfic writers usually stand out in a few ways.

They're oftentimes first-person POV or reader-insert. Give Y/N a break, she's tired.

The grammar is stunningly atrocious. I get if you're inexperienced or if you're writing in a second language, but we are in the prime era of autocorrect. If you need help, it's right there. Also, fuck c*nsoring b*d w*rds and fuck "unalive."

The characters do things that are out-of-character because the author is projecting their own personality. Bruce Wayne is a lot of things but he does not listen to the fucking Mountain Goats.

There's a lack of experience or research when it comes to certain topics. That's not how physics works. He can't walk that injury off. And that's definitely NOT how you do the horizontal hokey pokey.

3) The Neckbeards

Unfortunately, these basement-dwelling mouth-breathers tainted the image of what a comic fan is, though that's been changing recently. Still, we've all seen them. They gatekeep via pop quizzes, 'cause obviously you're not a real fan unless you know what page 10 of Batman #138 smells like. They give unsolicited commentary on people's cosplays, nitpicking the guys and being gross toward women. And heaven forbid the comics add a little diversity.

4) The Moviegoers

Nothing inherently wrong with getting into the fandom via the movies, nor is there anything wrong with sticking to that. I just feel like we're two different species of Galapagos finches, you know?

5) The Christopher Nolans

Separate from casual fans of the Nolan movies. I'm calling them the Christopher Nolans because these people have a tendency to reach for the grimdarkest thing possible. It's like they cannot fathom Batman having any other emotions besides punching and gargoyle brooding.

6) The Canon Purists

Wanna share a fun headcanon? NO, because Stephanie Brown never used cherry lip balm in the comics so therefore that must be the absolute truth. These people are a stickler for comic accuracy to the point where it's like... why bother interacting with the fandom in the first place? The worst part is when they're adamant on following a single continuity and refuse to consider anything else. This is comics we're talking about. Everything either has been or will be canon at some point.

7) The Fanon Worshippers

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the people who base their entire perception of the characters on something either they pulled out of their ass or that their mutual with 16 followers came up with, despite evidence directly contradicting it. I love WFA, but I feel like that's partially responsible for further perpetuating certain popular myths. Also, these fans tend to focus solely on the batfam/their ships. It's one thing to have some people in the foreground vs. background, but put some respect to Bart Allen's name you goddamn cheesecakes.

8) The Golden Age Dads

These guys aren't really obnoxious. I actually find it kind of cute how they think Jason Todd is still dead.

9) The Chronically Online

I have a rule of thumb when it comes to discourse: if it's not something I'd hear about at a bar, it's not worth my mental energy. Some people haven't gotten the memo, though.

These are either the well-intentioned but misinformed teenagers or grown-ass adults beefing with children because they don't have a life. They have takes that are oversimplified, rage-inducing, TikTok algorithm attention-grabbers that no one cares about in real life.

Don't get me wrong, we've got a bunch of issues in comics and fandom that are worth discussing. However, there comes a point where you're splitting hairs and need to go the fuck outside. I'm not gonna link the post 'cause I don't wanna call them and their 7 notes out, but the other week I saw someone saying Stephcass was a racist ship because something something colonialism parallel. You gotta be Elastigirl to have that kind of reach.

10) The Corporate Simps

I love comics. I appreciate the writers and artists. However, you will find my carcass in a ditch before you catch me licking the boots of DC/Warner Bros. Basically, these fans, fewer as they are, can't seem to fathom that their favorite franchise can (and does) put out some steaming motherfucking garbage.

11) The Hot Cosplayers

Not actually annoyed, I'm just a little jealous. Stop being hotter than me, please and thank you.

12) The One With A Punchline For Everything

Wait–

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nicohischierz · 3 months

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one in a million: luke hughes

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

he searched for you at every gathering, the saving grace and the only incentive he needed to attend anything.

the two of you would often hide away from the rest of the party. consumed in a world where it was just the two of you.

a world with no responsibilities and no comparisons.

luke understood you and you understood him.

“i’m gonna miss this when i’m gone,” luke whispered.

you smiled up at him, snuggling further into his chest. luke was your calm during the storm. the one person who always put you first.

both of you wished everyday could be like this.

“so you’re going to jersey? straight after frozen four, win or lose?” you asked.

he nodded.

when the game was over, luke only searched for one person. he found you almost immediately. to him, you stood out in the sea of faces, wearing his ntdp jersey.

luke tried changing as fast as he could to meet you but the devils representative stopped him. "I'm sorry but they want you on the plane immediately," the guy explained.

"i need to see her," luke fought.

the guy shook his head. "i'm sorry kid," he ushered luke away, giving the boy a solemn look.

walking into the locker room, you noticed the sour looks on everyone's faces. but at this point, you were only looking for one face and he didn't appear to be there.

erik portillo saw you first.

he initially came to tell you he was signing with the kings but when he saw your frantic nature, he knew he had to tell you about luke's departure.

the tall swede ushered you outside, making sure you were away from the media commotion before whispering "he left sötis,".

you almost let out a laugh before looking at erik. "that's not funny erik, where is he?" you asked.

erik's eyes were a giveaway that he truly wasn't lying. luke had left without so much as a goodbye.

your breathe was shaky as you looked around the hallway, tears filling up your eyes once again.

once you were back in your hotel room, you did what any sane person would do. you texted luke, telling him what a coward he was for leaving you like that.

lukie pookie: call me

that text alone sent you into a spiral.

obviously, you didn't call him. he was the one who left without saying a word so he should be the one to pay for the pain he caused you. a pain that rivalled what you felt with the pressures of the world.

it was obvious to everyone who knew you and luke that something was going on.

the once energetic duo, now barely had the energy to say hello.

after luke left the others started to leave one by one.

nolan joined a team in russia.

the seniors said their last goodbyes before going off.

mackie signed with the panthers.

and when erik left you felt as if things were changing too fast.

you followed the swedish boy to california and stayed with him until you wrapped your mind around what was going on.

alex turcotte was shocked to see you when he arrived to training one morning. well, he was shocked to see the shell of the girl he once knew. the chicago native immediately texted jack that you were in california and asked what happened.

“sötis, you can’t hide here forever.” erik prompted. he was currently trying to find flights for the two of you back to michigan so that you could spend summer with your family.

you ignored him and ate your soup dumplings. “i’ll pay the rent cost while i’m here erik. please don’t make me go back,” you begged.

but alas, erik had enlisted the help of alex who had brought trevor along with him. both older boys had their bags packed and tickets in hand as they reached the apartment.

“listen y/n/n, we’re not taking no for an answer. now either you pack your things and follow us or we pack for you and you get stuck with whatever we choose,” trevor gave the ultimatum.

rolling your eyes, you walked into your room as the three boys followed. they smiled as they watched you pack, happy that their slight threat worked.

erik drove the three of you to the airport and gave you one big hug before whispering “stay there for two weeks and if you don’t like it, i’ll buy you a ticket to sweden,”

you nodded. now you just had to get through two weeks and complain that it was a horrible experience.

“but you’re not allowed to make yourself hate the trip,” erik added. you hated how well he knew you.

that’s how you found yourself waiting for jack to pick you, trevor and alex from the airport.

jack ignored his two best friends as he ran over to you. engulfing you in a hug, spinning you around. “i missed you squish!” he exclaimed.

you smiled into jack’s shoulder. “i missed you too rowdy,” the middle hughes held onto you a little longer before greeting his friends.

the car ride to the lake house was silent in your part as you furiously texted erik about your dislike for his plans.

upon reaching the house, you were greeted by your fellow michigan classmates. they all yelled in delight at your presence and swarmed you into a hug.

“we thought we lost you to sweden!” dylan exclaimed, his arm around your shoulder.

you chuckled and looked to alex and trevor. the two boys wearing cheeky grins as they grabbed you bags. “well if it weren’t for these two i might’ve gone with erik,” you answered.

luke looked from a distance. pain and hurt in his eyes as he watched you interact with your friends and his family.

once everyone was done greeting you, you looked up at luke and smiled. the boy smiling back at you but no words exchanged.

you didn’t talk to luke until the boys first party.

just like every other party, you were hiding away on the roof. it didn't take long for luke to find you but once he did, he was glad.

the two of you sat in silence until you spoke up. "you didn't say goodbye," you murmured.

luke's heart broke as he heard your voice crack.

"they didn't let me bubbles. i wanted to come say bye to you but the guy said I needed to get on the plane. then my phone died and I didn't get any of your calls. when I tried to call you back it didn't go through," he ranted.

at this point, you were turned to luke. tears in both your eyes as you finally spoke about your feelings over the past two months.

"you're my best friend luke and we promised we'd be there for each other. you promised you'd never leave me and you didn't say goodbye," you raised your voice slightly.

more tears were streaming down your faces. your chest rose and sunk furiously as you tried to remain calm.

when luke didn't say anything more, you made your way back into the house. you glanced at him one more time before reaching his door.

"you weren't at my debut," he exclaimed.

you stilled and turned to him. "i was there luke. i bought the first available ticket to new jersey and the first ticket i could get my hands on for the game." you confessed.

luke's eyes softened. he ran over to you and brought you in for a hug. your face was nuzzled in his chest as both of you cried in each others arms.

"i don't want to lose you again bubbles," he whispered.

"you never lost me lukie,"

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nicohischierz writes

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angelbowerz · 6 months

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Being the only girl at Welton Academy/your first day

Movie- Dead poets society

Summary- it's your first day at Welton academy and you get taken in by the dead poets♡

-you started a few days into the semester and you basically spent your first day getting introduced to the school (no classes)

-you'll get a teachers room as your own dorm (with an en suite) because you obviously can't be sharing a bedroom and the showers with boys😭

-when the boys saw you walking to your dorm..their jaws DROPPED

-Cameron was the only one who disagreed with the idea

"This is called an all boys school for a reason🙄"

-when their classes ended for lunch, they were all hovering over your door until someone had the courage to knock on the door (cough cough Mr Charlie Dalton cough cough)

-when you open the door he gives *that smirk* and says "hello there pretty lady, need any help with anything?😏"

-all the others was just gawping, too scared to say anything

-After you finish packing, you go to Mr Nolan's office to find out what extra circular activities you get

-he gives VERY strict rules of no dating..blah blah blah

-then he says you're getting a tour from his 'best student'..more like favourite student

-and who walks through the door? Do I really need to answer that?

-OF COURSE IT'S RICHARD CAMERON

-the most awkward tour...mainly because

A. He doesn't want you at the school

And

B. He spends the whole time actually talking about the school (no small talk)

-At the end if the tour, Charlie finds you and says

"Ohhh it's the pretty lady...well hey, why don't you come meet my friends? ;)"

-the whole time you're sitting with the dead poets at dinner

Charlie just flirts with you

Todd is too shy to say more than 3 words

Cameron either talks about lessons and shades you until Charlie shuts him up

Meeks just watches you in awe and giggles the whole time

Pitts just blurts out random nonsense then just awkwardly laughs afterwards

Knox just talks about Chris

Neil is the sweetest one who generally keeps a conversation without flirting the whole time (cough cough charlie once again)

-Charlie invites you along to a dead poet meeting and Cameron just says

"Guys, do we really need MORE members"

-Charlie just puts him in his place (as per usual)

-anyway...later that night ya'll sneak out to the cave

-you sit (forced) next to Charlie

"I'll protect you pretty lady ;)"

-Meeks+Pitts still watches you in awe the whole time

"Your hair just looks so...amazing"

"Yeahhh...amazing"

*giggles*

-Neil and Cameron are the only ones who actually reads from the book

-Charlie does some overdramatic performance just to impress you

-Todd rarely speaks but sometimes smiles at you (cutiepie)

-what does knox do? Oh I wonder...TALKS ABOUT CHRIS THE WHOLE TIME!!!

-After they notice you getting sleepy ya'll sneak back into the school

-then you all go back to your dorms and fall asleep

#dead poets society #dead poets #dead poets headcanons #neil perry #todd anderson #gerard pitts #steven meeks #stephen meeks #charlie dalton #richard cameron #todd x neil #neil perry x reader #todd anderson x reader #gerard pitts x reader #steven meeks x reader #charlie dalton x reader #knox overstreet

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madddays · 1 year

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camera shy

pairing: yoongi x reader (f) summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (it’s a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour warnings: smut -- oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (they’re married it’s fine), terribly thought-out plot note: hello!!! i haven’t written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the “current timeline” but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but that’s where the title came from and i couldn’t think of another. okay. anyway.

Being on tour is exhausting.

You’re not sure you have the right to complain – you’re not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husband’s emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you.

And you’re dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely — the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence — being an idol’s wife didn’t really make you the most… sympathetic character.

So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum.

“If I have to duck out of one more cameraman’s way today…” you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs.

“There’s only so long they can spend in your room,” he placates. “And tomorrow you’ll have use of the business centre again.”

You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. You’re finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then —

“That’s it!” you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression.

“Whoops,” he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where he’d bumped the desk. “Should probably keep that closed.”

You see red. Just as you’re about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears.

“Jagiya,” Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. “I’m sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.”

You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. He’s turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in.

It’s not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed — a BTS member’s first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldn’t afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t the star. “No,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. I’ll try to be good.”

At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. “I’m not asking for a miracle,” he teases. “Just a little patience.” You roll your eyes. You can behave.

Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. “If that man crosses me one more time, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. He’s never more radiant than when he’s singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fans’ eyes — gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all.

And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you.

But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You can’t exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel.

So you stay behind tonight. It’s the last day of the American leg, and you’ve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines.

You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because you’d promised your boss an exclusive — first dibs on Agust D’s experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldn’t be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) you’re excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin.

But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Korea’s impact on global fashion getting to the finish line.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera that’s trained on the desk Yoongi’s claimed and flip it the bird.

Job done and borderline invasive filming (it’s only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, there’s not much left to do but wait.

When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesn’t provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. It’s not technically work if you’re just reading a dozen trashy ‘Who Wore It Best?’ segments. “Anne Hathaway, hwaiting!” you mutter to yourself.

--------------- xxx ---------------

A couple hours later, you’re still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard.

“Unnie, are you okay?” asks Ari, one of the stylists. “I was coming to call you to eat!”

“Oh, you’re all back! One sec!” You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ari’s surprised face greeting you. “Thanks, Ari-yah,” you grin, locking arms with her. “How was the show?”

“It was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.” Her face screws up a little. “He ripped another one of the jackets, though.”

An inconvenience to her, but you don’t share the irritation. Yoongi’s broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. “Oh,” you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, “that’s annoying.” Ari snorts.

“Sure. At least it’s new costumes for the next leg. We’ll refit them.”

You practically vibrate with excitement at that. “I haven’t seen them yet! I’m sure you all did an awesome job!”

She blushes. “I think it’ll be good! They’re not totally finalized yet, but I’ll send you a ton of pictures.” Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly.

Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they should’ve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.

“Come on,” you hear him grumble. “It’s not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.”

You snort. “And then tomorrow you’ll say ‘tomorrow never comes’.” If it were happening to someone else, you’d never let them live down how quickly their husband’s head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute.

Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Great, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,” he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again.

Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each other’s plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyone’s obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover.

And you’re right, because right after he’s done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. You’re a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers.

As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband.

But when you open the door, he’s already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks — sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He must’ve gone straight from the shower to his desk.

After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters.

“Hey!” he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. “I was waiting for you.”

“Clearly,” you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking “did I interrupt something?”

“No,” he assures you. “I got everything important down. You were right on time.” His fingers are drumming on your thigh like there’s still something on his mind, but you’re feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.

“Apparently, I was late.” His hair is cold when you ruffle it. “Let me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, can’t get sick.”

Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldn’t think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didn’t even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.

There’s still a restlessness about him when you’re done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him – hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.

There’s a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. “Come here,” he says softly. “I missed you.”

In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. “Oof,” you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.

“Dummy,” he teases. “Not even safe in a cushy hotel room.” You kick at his shin.

“Quit giving me bedroom eyes then.” You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. “Yes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.”

He moves your hand away, unimpressed. “It is a funny joke,” he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if he’d said it, you would’ve laughed. You’re down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.

Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself.

Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything you’re thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. “I love you,” he murmurs, and he kisses you.

Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate.

This isn’t a kiss just because, or goodnight or I’ll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.

You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so he’s over you, braced on his forearm. It’s urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat.

He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like it’s an hour.

When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize – it’s been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder you’re so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth.

He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.

He pulls away again with a low chuckle. “I’ve been neglecting you, my love,” he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.

“You’ve been such a good wife,” he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. “Shh, let your husband take care of you.”

He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Yoongi,” you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know he’s going to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s been so long since you’ve felt properly like his. “Smell so sweet,” he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You moan, sensitive from his touch. “You’re –” he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. “You’re unusually talkative tonight.”

He smiles up at you. “You like it,” he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what he’s going to do to you.

You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. “Your fucking tongue,” you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.

“Taste fucking perfect,” his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him.

Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. “Need to see you, jagi.” He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you – fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yoongi, please,” you choke. It’s getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. You’re so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.

“Pretty, pretty,” he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someone’s set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.

“Ahhh-hhhh,” you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like he’d just set a firecracker off inside of you – buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth.

He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. It’s so, so wet you’re sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. “Careful, baby,” he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. “Watch me.”

You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though you’re barely there, like he’s just using this to get himself off – except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows – shit shit it’s almost too much already.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you plead breathily, not even sure what you’re asking for. He’s already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places he’s touching you – big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. He’d taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. “I need – I nee –” you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.

“Don’t worry, love,” he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. “I know what my girl needs.” On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way he’s pressing you into the mattress

You’d teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. “Tongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where you’re not bragging about how good you eat pussy?” He’d only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didn’t.

Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast he’s pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene.

“Another?” he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low it’s become. You nod frantically, knowing you’re close.

When he adds his ring finger, you know you’re done for. There’s a searing heat all down your body — your belly’s tight, your feet digging into Yoongi’s back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. It’s building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips —

“That’s it, fuck, baby,” he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way you’re gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.

“N’more,” you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way you’ve drenched him.

He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. “Pussy monster,” you sigh deliriously.

He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more.

Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver.

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, down…

“Warm me up,” you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further.

“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. It’s evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist.

You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. You’re still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. “Baby,” you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. “Need it,” you whisper into his mouth. “How do you want me?”

Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. “How does my sweet girl want it?”

You flush even warmer. “Like this,” you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.

Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes – he’s already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. “The abs are new. I like them.” Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. “You’re in for it now.”

“Then fucking give it to me.”

He kisses you again, and he’s just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way he’s pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks – slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, he’d work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in.

Unfortunately for him, you’re worked up enough. He’s grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you haven’t had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since you’d met is driving you insane.

“Take off your fucking pants, Yoongi,” you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. “If you don’t fuck me right now –”

He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.

He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but it’s gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.

“So wet,” he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and there’s only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and – “Fuck.”

“Yoongi!” you cry out. His fingers hadn’t done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. “Oh –”

“I must be out of my fucking mind,” he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think you’re going to lose your mind. “How did I go without this for so long?”

He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. “Y-Yoon – “ you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point.

“My gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy — shit.” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you can’t think of anything but the way he’s filling you so good. The way you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

You’re blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing the tears away. He’s still going, deeper now instead of fast. “Can you give me one more, love?”

You’re dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. “Yeah,” you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in.

Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you.

“Shit, shit,” Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. He’s close. “Love you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,” his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and it’s enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. “Yoongi!”

“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “Squeeze me just like that,” and he’s coming too.

You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where you’re touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But you’re content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear.

“Should’ve used a condom,” you say hoarsely. There’s going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it.

“Fucking raw used to be so hot,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. “Now it’s a chore.”

Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips.

“Reel it in.” You boop his nose and he scrunches it. “I really cannot go another round. You’re gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongi’s in.

He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face.

By the time you’ve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you don’t worry about the mess you’ve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away.

He’s soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles. You don’t have to ask him what he means.

You laugh softly. “Silly,” you say, drifting off.

#yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #min yoongi imagine

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chadillacboseman · 2 months

Note

Makarov with a baby is cool, but I wanna read the fic where they MADE the baby 👀

Oh you're so right let's do it 🤌 F!Reader, mentions of getting PREGNANT, obviously.

Nothing gets Makarov's blood pumping like a close call.

Nolan is in the seat next to him, breaths coming in short, pained, waves as he clutches at the wound in his leg. Blood spills past his fingers in thick crimson rivulets, sliding down the fabric of his fatigues and to the leather of the seat beneath him.

Nolan will be fine, it's not his first rodeo; Makarov is sporting his own bullet wound, a clean shot through his upper arm that aches and throbs with each uneven piece of the road.

The rest of the trip is a blur, through rain-soaked streets and to the safehouse where a doctor held at gunpoint meticulously tends to their wounds, too scared to have an errant slip and get their brains blown out.

Sporting fresh stitches and a heart still thundering in his skull, Makarov pushes through the front door and kicks his boots off, ears straining against the thrum of his own blood to listen for your presence.

He calls for you in the darkness, knowing you're likely in bed by now; long gone are the days when you would wait up wringing your hands in his absence.

Makarov moves to the stairs, heavy footfalls carrying him up to your shared bedroom where he finds you curled up under the thick comforter. The moonlight glints off of your skin as your chest rises and falls gently.

"Любовь моя," he nudges you gently, stubbled mouth finding your ear, "I'm home."

"V!" You throw your arms around him and he chuckles, "oh my god, what happened?"

Your eyes are wide as you rake them over his bloodied shirt and the bullet hole in the fabric. You pass your hand over the frayed edges and he catches it in his own, bringing his mouth to dust gently over your knuckles.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin as he speaks, "but I missed you."

Makarov's mouth is on yours in a heartbeat, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with your own. His heart is still hammering, though for different reasons now, pulse thrumming in his ears.

A brush with death makes him desperate, wild and hungry for you; he needs to feel you, to be inside of you to keep himself grounded.

His hands move down your body to lift your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor near the bed. Makarov takes his lip in his teeth at the sight of you, causing your cheeks to warm under his hungry gaze.

Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he kisses his way down your stomach and to the waistband of your pajama pants. He tugs them down and off of you before discarding them next to your shirt.

Makarov's arm aches, but he ignores it as he lifts your legs up over his shoulders. You let out a tired whimper as he flattens his tongue and runs it over your clit, as if you are the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.

"V-" you whine out the nickname and he chuckles against your skin before pushing a finger inside you.

You buck against him and he slings an arm across your midriff to pin you in place. His dark eyes meet yours and they crinkle at the corners, giving away his devious grin.

Makarov wants to break you apart, to have you come undone over and over. He gets like that when he comes to to toe with death. He needs to hear you cry his name and beg him to relent before he gives you any mercy.

His finger curls inside you and you let out a pathetic moan as he finds a rhythm with his tongue that sets your mind ablaze. He loosens his grip on your middle and instead moves his hand up to your breasts, rough fingers rolling your one of your nipples between them.

"V, please-" you don't even know what you're begging for, your mind feels like a live wire draped into a puddle of water.

Makarov pauses and then sucks gently on your clit; the motion makes you cry out in earnest and he does it again before adding a second finger inside you.

Your heart fairly hammers in your chest as the pressure builds between your legs, threatening to overtake you. Everything feels overwhelming, unbearable, white hot. You finally hit your limit and thread your fingers into his hair as you grind up against his mouth with a choked sob.

He lets you ride out your high, grinning against your pussy until your legs shake on either side of his head. He gives you a moment to recover, then his tongue is back on you. You gasp, already so overstimulated that it's painful, and grip his hair tightly. You jerk his head up and his eyes find yours- he looks drunk, his eyes heavy lidded and his mouth upticked in a lopsided smile.

"Let me do this," Makarov whispers, "please."

He needs this just as much as you do.

You release his hair and he returns to work. Again and again he makes you come undone entirely until you can think of nothing. Your mind is a scorched forest, and he's the one holding the match.

He knows when you can take no more by the way your legs clamp onto his head and your voice is shrill, cracking in the quiet room. He's satisfied then and pulls away, his mouth still gleaming with your wetness as he shucks his shirt, then his pants.

All you can do is watch, dazed, as he wraps your legs around his waist and then slips inside you. You stare up at him, cockdumb and hazy, and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. You open your mouth and he puts the digit inside; he groans when you run your tongue along it.

Makarov's first thrust has you seeing stars, clinging to his broad shoulders as he fucks you. Another thrust and you feel like you're gasping for air.

"You can take it," he murmurs. You're not sure you can, "So pretty when you're taking me."

You swallow thickly and look up at him with your mouth slightly agape, pupils blown out with lust. His thrusts are quicker now, and each one nearly makes you sob. Makarov looks down at you as if you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

You are. He doesn't know how he ever got you to love him, or why you stay. He's a terrible man- a murderer, a bastard. He doesn't deserve a pretty, innocent thing like you.

"V," you whimper and he drops his sweat-soaked forehead to yours with a strangled 'hm?', "I want- I want you to cum inside me. Please."

The request sets his mind into a frenzy and he latches his mouth to yours, tongue forcing its way inside as his thrusts quicken.

"You want that, hm?" he pants when he breaks his mouth from yours, "To fill you up?"

You nod and he grins, his lips brushing against yours again before his next words, "you want me to make you a mother?"

Your eyes meet his and you see the intensity in his gaze. You don't even know what it would be like to have a child with him- how you could possibly make it work with his "work".

Makarov thrusts, hard, and you decide that you'll figure that part out later. You give him a choked off 'yes' that makes him feel as if his chest is going to burst from the way his heart hammers.

His next few thrusts are less measured, more sloppy, until he's cursing under his breath in Russian and you feel warmth bloom inside you. He stays planted there until his cock goes soft and he pulls out, pausing to examine his handiwork as it drips down the curve of your ass in pearlescent rivulets.

Makarov falls into the bed next to you and pulls you in close, letting you rest your head on his chest. You decide that cleanup can wait, right now you're content to melt into his embrace. He kisses your forehead and you hum contentedly.

"You sure you want a baby?" you ask, glancing up at him; he looks pensive, staring off into space in the darkness.

"Do you?" he finally looks down at you and his dark eyes are full of something you can't quite place.

"Maybe. Could you keep us safe?"

Makarov scoffs and knits his brows low over his eyes, "I'd kill anyone who even looked at you wrong."

You know he would. You've never felt unsafe for a moment since you met him, even though you know he's a hunted man.

"Then yes."

#makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #ns/fw

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freak-accident419 · 2 months

Text

The Unlikely Postulate of Clapton’s Love Life

Clapton Davis x GN!Reader Headcanons

Content: a little bit of fluff, mentions of virginity, mentions of underage drug use, that’s pretty much it :)

(A/n: Just like in the movie, I made a chapter title card as if you and Clapton’s relationship were inserted. I was really in love with the names such as ‘The Terrible Ultimatum of Clapton Davis’, ‘The Lonely Ballad of Billy Nolan,’ etc. so I came up with one as if these headcanons were scenes in the movie.)

You knew Clapton since Freshman year. You knew of him, at least, and you didn’t actually have a conversation with him until junior year. It all started when he asked you for a pen.

You weren’t too popular like him. But you were sort of the sweetheart of the school. Nobody would talk about you as much as they did Clapton, but when you were brought up, only good things were said about you.

A few small things had progressed your friendship with Clapton. First, it was the pen thing. Then you two were teamed up for a science project. This showed him how smart you were, so he began to rely on you. You were also charming and he began to become infatuated with you, so he asked you for homework help a lot of the time. You went on ‘dates’ and things, like how he skated you home, went on a movie date with you, went bowling together, until you two were official partners.

You two were both in Spanish classes. You were passing and he was failing, so you had to tutor him a whole lot. He came up to you one day with a giddy smile and said ‘Tu es mucho bonito.’ It wasn’t completely correct, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

He burned a CD for you consisting of all of your favorite songs.

Sometimes he appeared in your front yard at midnight for a late night skate. Other times he appeared, he went to your window and you two just made out.

You made out a lot. And you probably lost your virginity to him.

You two got high sometimes. One time you had a very long, weed-driven conversation about who the ‘real’ karate kid was: Ralph Macchio or Billy Zabka. He said it was obviously Macchio, but you liked to argue for Billy. In retrospect, you weren’t sure why.

You two are basically each other’s best friends. It took a while for the school to realize you were dating.

As attractive and charming as Clapton was, nobody really expected him to be in a relationship. He seemed like one of those cool chill guys who wouldn’t involve himself in one. That’s why everyone was so surprised to know that he was in a relationship, let alone with you—it was highly unlikely. Everyone in the school thought you were the power couple, though. Everyone talked and gossiped about your new relationship with him a lot.

You both didn’t like the idea of extravagant prom-posals. Plus, it was sort of a mutual understanding, you two knew you wanted to go together.

He loves holding your hand. Whether he’s walking you to your class or home, he cannot go without holding your hand.

He tried to teach you how to skateboard once because you asked him. You fell. It was terrible. But he patched you up and blamed himself for not teaching you or protecting you properly.

He loves sharing his music with you. Sharing earbuds and everything. When he found out that your go-to slow dance song was “Fields of Gold” by Sting, he instantly knew you were his soulmate.

Sometimes when you two cuddle, you talk about your future together. You hope to stay together long enough to get married. Then you think about articulate things like where to live, what kind of house, pets, etc.

He always said ‘Clapton don’t dance’ but that was a lie. He’d never hesitate to slow dance with you.

You made each other friendship bracelets. He never wants to take it off.

Riley was very supportive of your relationship. As Clapton’s best friend, she was glad that he found someone as amazing as you.

He loves whenever you play with his hair. You do it a lot.

Sometimes you’d ditch school to hang out at a 7-11 or smoke pot. It didn’t matter what you did, as long as he hung out with you. He enjoyed quality time.

One time, before you two were dating, you two ditched school because Clapton wanted to show you a trick he learned on the skateboard to impress you. Clearly he wasn’t ready because he fell, suffering a terrible injury. But there was something so dorkishly charming about that moment, that that was probably the first time you realized you liked him more than a friend.

The first time he said ‘I love you’ was by mistake. You two were both very high. He genuinely meant it, however. And so, the very next day, he properly confessed. And you expressed your reciprocation.

This was my first set of headcanons I’ve written, so I hope you enjoyed it! I hope I did this prompt justice :’) I was so proud of the title that I was too eager to wait until I got a solid fic idea, so I just decided to write headcanons :) thanks for reading!

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis x gn!reader #clapton davis headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #detention #detention 2011 #josh hutcherson #clapton davis #josh hutcherson x you #gender neutral reader #mike schmidt x reader #peeta mellark x reader #josh futturman x reader #josh hutcherson x reader

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xjulixred45x · 4 months

Text

I know I have to work on the requests, but I have to get this out of my head because now I have a rediscovered love for Invincible, bear with it.

(SOMETHING LIKE A CONTINUATION OF THIS)

SOME SITUATIONS WITH YANDERE AU MARK GRAYSON/INVINCIBLE

okay, I can definitely see that you two were a couple or at least liked each other before everything went to hell.

and although you were fine with Mark at that time, when he was being convinced to join the Viltrum empire, he was somewhat seeking your approval. although using very vague assumptions, such as "would you accept an alien race if it meant world peace?" "or if that would help with the development of medicine?" You know, like what Nolan wanted to do at the beginning with Mark. and obviously since you didn't have the context you said yes without hesitation, further fueling Mark's crazy ideas.

I may not have made it very clear in the first part, but you and Nolan definitely don't get along. I mean, he's nice to you in a way, but he treats you like a little kid who needs discipline, so he tries to push Mark into that. Not only that, but you also indirectly blame him for the sudden change in Mark's personality, you know that if Nolan hadn't gotten him into that shit, he wouldn't have so much blood on his hands. The Mark you knew wasn't like that. HE WASNT.

The main reason this Mark doesn't feel angry because of your traditional escape attempts or why he's so soft is because of something our Invincible doesn't usually have, and that's his ARROGANCE. This Mark does not believe that you are capable of running away from him, you are not capable of defending yourself from him, you are not capable of harming him and above all you are not capable of HATE HIM, because he sees you as a soft creature, who should be treated as such because you are confused.

He is delusional, SpongeBob and Squidward level of Delusional. You could perfectly tell him that you hate him, that he's the worst thing that happened to you in your life... and he thinks it's reverse psychology.

"fuck you"

"Is that an invitation?😚"

"I hate you"

"I love you too babe🥰"

"If we were trapped on a desert island I wouldn't hesitate for a second to make a raft with your limbs"

"Silly you, I would take you out flying😘"

Do you see what I'm saying? For the same reason, if you end up hurting him, he would be proud that now you can definitely defend yourself from the Revolutionaries who "kidnap you every now and then" (it's you on the run). dang it, if you hurt him probably even NOLAN would compliment you for doing it despite being "so weak" and would completely approve of you.

(I can already imagine you with a wedding dress and a bouquet of knives...you want to throw it at Mark...in the face)

I think the most Mark does to scare you into escape scenarios is to threaten to throw you and not catch you next time, that's the best he goes. He can't stand the idea of leaving you paralyzed because it would be very boring and sad to see only a shell of you.

He wouldn't kill Eve, but he would never hurt you...physically. Did you see that in the end in their universe they manage to imprison him and get rid of Omniman? you totally didn't let go of Fem! Cecil(Cecilia?) all the way to her base and thanking her with all your heart and tears. Cecilia comforted you awkwardly, but she understood that you must have definitely had a hard time with Mark.

Meanwhile, with Mark already locked up, even if the world is a bit messed up, you can breathe easy for the first time in years, you can leave the base without fear of what happens to the people around you, you can eat without a problem, you can CHAT with people! it's magic! It's like you don't even remember anything before Mark! out of pure fear!

Meanwhile, Mark in prison always asks about you AT LEAST once a day, even if they give him proof that you are WELL and HEALTHY, he just doesn't believe it and DEMANDS to see you to prove it, which they obviously deny him and only makes him think that even more. The guy thinks you must be dying of hunger and cold or being eaten by collotes while you live your best life🤣

"MY POOR BABE! She must be so confused and scared without me! How do I know they're not torturing her for information!? She must be so worried because we're not getting home!" and it goes on and on... meanwhile Darling: "happy~ happy~happy~" "OHHHOOOhhOO, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY!"

For now that's all. I hope the Viltrum empire doesn't come to shit on Darling's happiness☠️

#headcanons #drabbles #drabble #yandere invincible #invincible #yandere mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #nolan grayson #tw yandere #tw killing

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augustvandyne · 4 months

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Hi I wanted to ask if you would write a Lucy Chen imagine. Where the reader is also a police officer and gets hurt badly, so Lucy is very worried. Just fluff with a bit of angst.

Thank you very much.

ofc ofc ofc!

backup

Lucy could tell it was going to be bad by the shake of your voice on the radio. You’d shakily asked for backup, but it was too late.

You and Lucy hadn’t been riding together that day, and that was the worst decision Sergeant Grey had ever made.

You were assigned to a shop with yourself, while Lucy was with Tim.

She didn’t understand. She’d seen you twenty minutes ago, tops. But from there the two of you had went separate ways.

Her voice broke, “Tim,” as soon as your voice had disappeared, and with one look at the woman, he stepped on the gas.

Tim gave her the spiel, if she wasn’t able to handle it, she’d have to step aside until you were safely transported to the hospital, where Tim would take her right after this, along with the rest of the station.

To say the way you looked was bad, was an understatement. The sight of you had everyone speechless, even Nyla.

“Conscious, but unresponsive,” Nolan is able to get out over the lump in his throat.

The man you were obviously up against looked worse than you, if that’s even possible. He took a shot to the chest, and was DOA.

You, on the other hand, had taken several shots and several cuts. There were bruises starting to form along your body and blood pouring out of your cuts.

Bailey has to keep her tears from falling as she and her team load you onto a stretcher.

Lucy stands by the side the whole time, trying to keep her tears at bay, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t let a few slip.

Tim and the rest of the team escorted you to the hospital, following behind the ambulance that was going more than a few miles over the speed limit.

By the time Lucy had gotten to the hospital her face was red from rubbing her tears away and her hair was messy from her running her hands through it.

She’s out of the car and by your side before it’s even in park.

“Oh, my god,” Lucy can’t even look at you. She knows it isn’t her fault, but she can’t help but blame herself. She had a bad feeling the whole twenty minutes since she’d saw you, and she should’ve known. “Y/n, you’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna be here the whole time, okay? I’m not leaving until you’re sick of me.”

The nurses push you through, an O.R. already ready for you, as you are a loved face all over LA—the station, the community center, the hospital.

When the doors close, and Lucy can no longer follow, Tim is there to bring her into a tight hug.

He needed it just as bad as she did.

Lucy quite literally breaks down it his arms, and Tim isn’t sure what to do, so he just stays standing there with a broken Lucy in his arms until the rest of the team found the two of them.

The group went around hugging Lucy, which was greatly appreciated by her because she needed it, and that’s why everyone embraced her.

The two of you were at the height of your relationship, and so she was more in love with you than ever.

She was going to marry you, and she knew it, so she couldn’t let you die now.

Sergeant Grey granted Lucy a few days off to get you back up and on your feet, which she gratefully took.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

By the time your surgery was done, not a single person had left the hospital.

Tim had tried to get Lucy to go to the cafeteria to eat with him, and to get her to go home to get some things for you and herself, but she wouldn’t even budge.

Nyla had brought her at least two cups of coffee, but Lucy had just let them sit. She was still in shock.

Tim sat on Lucy’s right, while Nyla sat on her left.

Those three were the three most important people in your life.

Lucy was the love of your life. The reason you kept going. You’d attended the academy together, but you were a year behind her, so she’d never really spoken to you. Maybe once or twice at the bar, but that was it.

Tim was your best friend. Any problems you had, you took right to him. On your off days, he’d take you to your favorite food truck and did whatever he could to cheer you up, because when you were sad, there was no light in any room.

Then there was Nyla. Your T.O., mentor, teacher, whatever you wanted to call her. She would never admit it, but you were her favorite. You’d won her over in the first week, and that was a Nyla Harper record.

So here were your three favorite people, all praying you’d make it through this surgery, and then make it through the night.

The nurse that comes out happens to be friends with Tim, so he is able to sweet talk her into letting the three of them come see you in the ICU.

Even though you aren’t awake, Lucy, Tim, and Nyla want to see that you are okay and breathing.

You looked better.

The cuts had bandages over them, and most of the dirt on your face had been washed off.

You’d only taken two actual shots to your body—your ankle and your shoulder. Any other shots had been caught by the vest. That was evident from the bruises formed on your chest.

One of your legs had been cut up pretty badly, and it had stitches. Lucy knew you’d be self conscious over the big gash that ran horizontal on your thigh.

Nyla lets out a loud sigh, her hands on her lower back as she stares at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling.

“Where was her goddamn backup?” Nyla lowers her guard for a second when a tear falls down her face.

“Nolan was on his way,” Tim keeps his jaw clenched, his hands in his pockets to keep himself from doing something he’d regret. “He said he was responding. I don’t— I don’t know. He—“

Lucy stands in the corner next to Nyla, afraid to speak.

Seeing Tim and Nyla so distraught has Lucy’s tears come back. Her heart breaks and drops to the ground all over again, and it definitely doesn’t feel good.

“God, if I’d have drove faster, maybe—“

“Don’t blame yourself,” Nyla takes a seat in the chair by your side, holding one of your hands in hers. “Don’t blame anyone. It’s no one’s fault but the man who did this.”

“I had a bad feeling,” Lucy has to bite her lip to keep herself from breaking down again.

“Lucy—“

“No,” Lucy scoffs. “I should have known.”

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Lucy is still asleep by the time you wake up. Nyla and Tim agreed to take turns staying with Lucy until you were discharged from the hospital. Which would be in a few days.

You had a bit of internal bleeding, so the doctors want to keep you for a few days to watch over you.

Tim is in the cafeteria grabbing some air and coffee. The two of you were asleep, so he figured he could have at least ten minutes to himself.

You wake Lucy when you’re reaching for the water, your throat was uncomfortably dry.

Lucy is immediately grabbing the cup and pitcher and pouring you water.

“Lucy—“

“Don’t talk,” Lucy feels her eyes watering again.

“Then don’t cry,” You whisper. You try to reach out and wipe her tears, but it pains you due to the shot in your arm. “I think my arms broken.”

Lucy laughs, glad to have some relief after those last agonizing hours without you.

“You were shot in the foot and shoulder. Your shoulder is broken, baby, but you’ll be okay. You have a large cut on your right thigh, too. I’ll take you to physical therapy, and you’ll be as good as new, okay? Grey gave me the next week or so off, but if you need more time with me, I will stay off longer. You’ll be back soon enough—“

It takes everything in you to lean forward and kiss Lucy.

“It’s okay, Luce,” You smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lucy’s features soften.

“Lay with me,” You insist.

“Are you sure you won’t break another bone moving over?”

“Lay with me,” You say more aggressive this time so Lucy knows you aren’t kidding.

“Okay, fine,” Lucy fits in the spot you open up for her, despite the pain it caused to open it, it was totally worth it. “Now, let me tell you about how I saw Tim crying.”

Tim decides to come in at that moment.

“Oh— you’re awake,” Tim’s brows raise.

“Come and sit,” You turn your head towards him as he sits in the chair beside your bed. “Lucy was just about to tell me about how big and bad Timmy was spotted crying.”

Tim rolls his eyes but listens anyways.

#the rookie x reader #the rookie #please ask me about them #send asks #send anons #lucy chen x reader #lucy chen #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #nyla harper x reader #nyla harper

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weebsinstash · 6 months

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Do you think Nolan or Thragg would ever be a GirlDad (TM)? Like, I can imagine Nolan finding out his wife is pregnant with a girl, and he thinks he's going to treat her the same as Mark, but then he holds her in his arms for the 1st time and all of a sudden she's Daddy's Little Princess and he's teaching her how to subjugate her enemies during her "princess tea parties" and they're both wearing tiaras cuz "Please daddy?" with puppy dog eyes.

Hooting hollering howling and slapping my knee because I never finished the goddamn post but if you take a gander over here in my drafts

SAME BRAINCELL WOO WOO

That gif is his response to you asking when you get to date lmaooo

I almost wrote like something short for it, and I kind of am constantly bouncing around between "Do I want this to be short or long or what" but I can just imagine daughter Reader and Nolan going at it "you just don't want me to date because you want me to save myself for a VILTRUMITE man, don't you?! Humans aren't good enough, huh?! I'm 'too good for a human man'?!" And he just loses it and shouts back "you're too good for ANY man, you don't NEED any man, I'M the only man you need, I'M your FATHER!!" Like. Nolan is one of those super dare I use the term emotionally incestuous yandere dads

Like. Ok I guess this is a throwaway spoiler because I would be absolutely fucking shocked if they bothered to animate this, it's such a small deal, but like. Idk. Idk. How do I phrase this. "There's another character in the series who also has to deal with their daughter wanting to have A Ho Phase and Daddy Doesn't Like It" and for the love of fucking god Nolan and Thragg wouldn't let you date for absolute shit. No dating, no fucking, you are, their pure innocent sweet but also savage little fierce warrior princess and you are untouched by no man like the goddess Artemis to them.

God. Having a yelling screaming argument where you're just so upset, "OH YEAH WELL YOU KNOW YOUR CHANCELLORS SON, THE ONE I MET THE OTHER WEEK? YEAH, YEAH, I FUCKED HIM, I FUCKED HIM IN MY BED, IN THE HOUSE YOU PROVIDE FOR ME, HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, DADDY" and that's like OH MY GOD you've cut them so deep it's like actual fucking sacrilege to them. The EMOTIONAL DAMAGE. Fists are nothing knives are nothing bombs are nothing BUT HEARING THAT THEIR BABY GIRL GOT DEFLOWERED? It's like a fucking DEBUFF. Imagine you scream at Nolan about how you sucked off a Viltrumite HIS AGE and he just PHYSICALLY STUMBLES, HAS TO REGAIN HIS BALANCE, HAND OVER HIS HEART

And Thragg is, obsessively hollering about how you're the Grand Regents daughter and you're of too high status for any of these males, just screaming at you, "WHY DID I CATCH THAT MAN'S TONGUE IN YOUR MOUTH? HE IS BENEATH YOU" and you hit him with "YEAH HE WAS BENEATH ME, AND BEHIND ME, AND ON TOP OF ME--" and Thragg gets so fucking RED, I feel like he's one of those wall punching dads. He won't ever hit you but he might manhandle-grab you and physically intimidate you at times. Thragg can just give you The Look and you INSTANTLY know you're in for a punishment, or that he's absolutely furious, and you're on your knees, "Please Daddy I'm sorry I didn't mean it, I was angry, please don't be upset with me, i-i-i just dont like you being disappointed in me, i love you and i want us to get along 🥺" and like. Obviously it works. But. He's not mad at YOU, he's mad at THE GUY, so, as cute and effective as buttering him up or even just genuinely being afraid and pleading earnestly is, you're not his target. The guy's still getting, tortured and maimed or something. But thanks for telling Father you love him, that'll perk him up during his next planet raid ❤️

BUT NO LITERALLY ACTUALLY Nolan with his knees bent in a little tiny plastic chair nearly on the ground with his little fake cup of tea as he sits there having "tea" with you and your Princess Ladybug doll and he's all, "now sweetheart, what did we learn today?" "That if we defeat our enemies, we should also take out their family and their allies, so they don't come back for vengeance?" "Yes sweetie, that's so good, you're so smart 🥰"

Nolan/Thragg getting in a physical fight and they could be getting maimed and disembowled or taking punches and it's like whatever, they're still chilling, but, do some shit like, knock their treasured keychain out of their pocket that you gave them or an embroidered handkerchief or just a little personal photo of you they keep on them gets ruined in the scuffle, oh, oh, NOW they're fucking pissed, NOW they've got some serious unfinished business in this fight and their opponents get DEMOLISHED and they're sitting there pouting with their broken/ruined thing you gave them because even if they got a new one from you, this one still had memories and sentimental value

I feel like similar to parents keeping baby teeth, Thragg would keep things like, first weapon you ever trained with, memorial photo of your first spar with another child that you won, your first flightsuit, a toddlers toy that was crushed on accident because you suddenly got your powers and had far too much strength than you knew what to do with. And Nolan, if he's raising you on Earth with Debbie, he's at all your school functions, whether it's dancing or sports, and if you aren't in those things, he encourages you HEAVILY (it totally isn't. Training or anything or making sure you're staying fit and active for anything in the future hahaha). He's taking photos and cheering in the crowds. He wants your art in his office. He wants to play games with you once you get your powers. He buys a case for any medals and trophies to proudly display.

Also like do you have any idea how much of an actual phenomenon it is, I've seen videos of it, where dads basically have infinitely more sympathy for their new daughters when they already have sons. I distinctly remember a video where a man was holding his second-born, his first daughter, and he was like weeping because he was feeling intense empathy for his infant daughter because she was crying and looking at him as he held her, and the wife was filming and it was captioned "he never did this with our son" and like. LMAO, THAT'S NOLAN WITH YOU WHEN YOU CRY. THAT'S THRAGG SUDDENLY GIVING A FUCK ABOUT ONLY YOU SPECIFICALLY AFTER LIKE TONS OF KIDS.

Daughter Reader would definitely be their spoiled little princess but you're also their spoiled little princess under very specific terms of CONTAINMENT AND SURVEILLANCE. You've got curfews, they need to know who your friends are, what families do they come from, what do their parents do. They'll treat you like a princess but they'll also socially isolate you from others and. Basically control your life. And if you ever try and pull away from Dear Old Dad, well. Viltrumites can have some pretty extreme reactions. Will Nolan have to disfigure that boy you won't stop talking to? Will Thragg have to build a pretty little cell so that his adult daughter doesn't sneak out to drink and fuck unknown men? That's up to how much of an obedient faithful daughter you want to be. Don't make them do something only you will regret ❤️

Jfjfkfm EDIT; I ALSO TOTALLY MISSES YOU SENT THIS

No but absolutely you're sitting there in your little costume jewelry as you twist a barbie doll and wring her like a towel "for disobeying High Queen Princess Barbie" and here's Thragg, "that's very good. The chain of command should always be respected" and you just happily start chattering away in that "im a small child and I don't know how to keep secrets or lie" kind of way

"Then Teddy Mason from down the street chased me into the woods and I kept telling him to stop but he kept using a stick to pull up my skirt so I grabbed him by the leg and threw him up into the air so he went SPLAT when he came back down!!" And you bang your little hand down on your table and Thragg is nodding in approval and Nolan just comes in looking mortified because he has no idea why Thragg is there until he. Sees that you're putting all kinds of stupid plastic hair clips in the man's hair and even his mustache and giggling and putting stickers on him And Thragg Is Just Totally Letting It Happen. Just totally casual, "Ah Nolan, you're finally here" and stands up to talk to Nolan with you in his arms or on his shoulder or just, hovering around him continuing to play with all the hair clips while your very horrified father is wondering what alternate dimension he just stumbled into to see the Grand Regent so. Calm.

The two men go into the other room "to have a grownup talk" and are they talking about the invasion? About Viltrum? No, Thragg is demanding to see all your baby photos as Nolan starts pulling out all his photo albums with absolute glee

#yandere invincible #yandere x reader #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 2 months

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Why Crosshair Will Live

(aka an essay by a Crosshair girlie who loves her clone husband too much)

So, I've been thinking long and hard about the final season and how it could end. Obviously, it's gonna be an emotional rollercoaster and all that. However, there's always going to be discourse about who's gonna bite it, especially since our main characters don't have plot armor and this show is allowed to go way darker than Rebels. Crosshair is my favorite character and I don't hide that at all. He's all over my page. But looking at his character, there's a part of me that believes he actually might make it out in one piece. Let's get started!

"Redemption Equals Death"- Out of all the tropes, this is the one Crosshair embodies the most. He was the villain for a season, but now he's changing his ways. In past seasons, I would've said this is how his story ends. His brothers find him and Omega on Tantiss and he goes out protecting them, proving he deep down he still loved them. But after season 3, I don't think that's the case anymore. I think he's passed the point. Crosshair in season 3 is actively redeeming himself through his actions and words with his family and the other clones. We don't need to see him go out in some big self-sacrifice because we already see the person he truly is inside. More importantly, his family sees the person he's become. He's already proven it in so many ways. Crosshair openly admitted his mistakes, saved Hunter from the wyrm, is very protective of Omega, and saved his brothers, Omega, and Rex + Howzer from CX-2. At this point, Crosshair has passed the "redemption equals death" marker. His redemption is playing out and the people around him are seeing the changes.

His Character Arc- Crosshair's character arc has always been about loyalty and identity. Go all the way back to season 1 with the infamous "this is who I am" line and his whole spiel about the Batch not being loyal to him. "Aftermath" shows us this poor man already beginning to struggle. In season 2, Crosshair is going through every hurt no comfort fic trope in the book. This man was pushed to the brink, with every sense of his being questioned. And he almost didn't make it. Crosshair in "The Outpost" was so close to dying after trekking through the blizzard and shooting Nolan. He's suffered through so much already from being severely burnt to freezing, and now almost drowning. Pretty much half way through season 3 and Crosshair's trials aren't over. His hand is still bothering him and he's still trying to find himself.

Although Crosshair has made peace with his family, I believe he still needs to make peace with himself. He's been humbled sure, but there's more to go. Who is he if he isn't a soldier or sharpshooter? Crosshair's arc will probably finish with him realizing being a soldier isn't entirely who he is. His hand tremor still could be related to his internal conflict, we don't know. So far, he's doing a great job. We've seen Crosshair begin to find peace on Pabu and comfort with Omega. It would be so satisfying to see him make it out of this mess alive. My best BB ending would be him (and his brothers) alongside Omega retired somewhere. They have each other and that is enough.

His Poster and Theme- Crosshair is the only character as of right now in the Batch who has a separate poster for season 3. Not even Omega has a separate one (although I can see her getting one later). In fact, Omega shares her with Crosshair. Both are wearing their prison outfits, showing their shared situation and stand against a white/grey backdrop. We also see Cross gripping his right hand, referring to the issue he's having with it. However, he also has one of himself in the same golden lighting as his brothers. Crosshair stares at his helmet with a calm look on his face and appears to be contemplating. That has to mean something. From my POV, I get the sense he's wondering about who he is. Wouldn't it be a great ending if Cross finds himself and lives to see that self be happy?

He is also the only member of the Batch (Omega aside) to have his own theme/leitmotif. He has two actually: his Imperial one and his heroic one. His heroic theme aka the "Mayday" theme is stunning and highlights his struggle perfectly. You can actually hear it in season 1 fun fact but it's faint. The fact that he does have a separate poster and theme from the others does give me hope that he will make it. Not to say that the others aren't important, but something about Crosshair and his journey is very meaningful to have warranted this. You can argue that he shares the title of "heart of the show" to some degree because his arc is the most dynamic of all the Batch. His struggles and fight back towards the light truly raise this show to greatness.

Crosshair is also season 3's "Batcher of Year" award and so far, they're doing everything we wanted and more. For two whole seasons, his character has been building and building towards this season. And they better give us a great payoff. Crosshair's character going to continue to soar as the season progresses. I can definitely see him making it through to the end because of the focus on him.

Omega- how can we forget about the kid who never gave up on our grumpy sniper? Omega (and we can argue Cross to a lesser degree) is the heart of the show. She gives the Batch a new outlook on life and it is through her that they grow and change. Omega brings out the paternal and softer side in each of her brothers. Crosshair, however, takes a bit longer to get there. He's the only character whose main development happens away from Omega. When he finally gets home, he becomes Crossdad. But Omega is still a kid, despite her capabilities. If the other Batchers die, who will take care of her? Omega being on her own just doesn't feel right. We also know going off with Rex wouldn't feel satisfying either even though he would take really good care of her.

Now that Crosshair is back, it feels like the show is propping him up to take over Hunter's role. Hunter parented for 2 whole seasons. As the mentor figure, he might bite it. But wait! Crosshair is still here. There is no way the writers would just let Omega finish alone or get killed off. She will have someone with her. Crosshair, having spent the majority of the show away, will probably be the best candidate narratively speaking. As mentioned above, he gets two posters showing just how integral he is this season. He's also been getting a lot of screen time with Omega. So, I can definitely see the show ending with just the two of them left. It would be bittersweet, but still satisfying.

Disney- let's ask the question: would Disney kill off an entire family aside from their child? My best guess is no (this isn't a Disney movie with a prince to save the day). Tying into my last point, I can't see this family-friendly company letting a literal child lose her entire family and end up all alone in the end. We all saw Rogue One and we know that this is a plausible option. However, I'm beginning to think that they aren't gonna do that because again, Omega is a child. She's gonna hopefully have one, if not all, her brothers alongside her. And I swear, if they give her to someone else not named Crosshair, Hunter, Wrecker, or Echo, I will blow a gasket. She needs her family. Disney and Star Wars is all about hope and it's not very hopeful to me if all of the BB but Omega dies.

Rebuttal- let's get this out of the way: if Cross dies, it will be with his brothers, protecting Omega, and defeating Hemlock. There is literally no other way he could go out that would be satisfying. He's redeemed and fought the Ghost of Crosshair's Future (aka CX-2). Backpedaling on his character arc would suck. If he dies, it will be as a Bad Batcher, a loving brother, and the best sniper the galaxy has ever seen.

But I don't think that will happen. I do genuinely think Crosshair has a chance to survive. But what do you guys think? Obviously, I'll still be nervous about the whole thing, but I'm trying here.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #please guys just let me have this #crosshair will live #im manifesting this right now #he will be ok #he and omega will be together #and all will be well #jennifer do you hear me #let's get our prayer circle and hold hands #tbb omega #tbb meta #tbb analysis

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